Anakin shook his head. Working on the droids was the one slender thread that connected him to his childhood on Tatooine. It was a frayed thread he was not willing to snap off completely.

The smell came to his nostrils, a mixture of smoky metal and something unpleasantly organic, the residue of food or waste. He tuned it out as his gaze eagerly swept the rubble.

He was grateful for his Jedi training. His eyes were sharp, even in the shadows. He did not want to risk a glow rod. It was dangerous to advertise your presence here.

Better to act as a shadow.

He kept his eyes trained on the ground as he walked.

Sometimes parts dropped off the giant hydrolifts that were used to transport the junk. He had uncovered some great finds by kicking through the dirt and debris beneath his boots.

Ah — a circuit, almost completely intact. Anakin rubbed it against his tunic, not caring about the crusty dirt that left a dark stain. He tucked it in his belt. And here — part of a hydrospanner. He could always use that, just in case he broke the ones he had. Cheaper to fuse an old one than to look for an intact one.

He scanned the heap ahead of him. One of his goals was to assemble his own small power terminal in his room so that he would not have to hook up to the Temple's terminal in order to power his droids. The more he stayed out of sight with his hobby, the better.

There — he could see it on top of the heap. Could it be a motivator circuit board? Yes — if he could just manage to Force-jump up there without sending the assembled heap of junk tumbling. He scanned the side of the heap for a good landing site. A battered piece of durasteel seemed to rest solidly on the junk beneath it. If he landed softly, he should be able to balance on it long enough to swipe the piece. He was a Jedi, and his balance was perfect. Anakin jumped.

He landed a bit harder than he had meant to, and with a little too much pressure on his right foot.

You're not a Jedi yet.

He heard Obi-Wan's gentle, admonishing tone in his ear even as he scrambled to avoid sending a small avalanche of parts back down the pile along with him.

Willing his muscles to stay flexible and his mind focused, he balanced carefully on the durasteel and eased out one hand. .

. . only to see another hand appear from the other side of the heap, reaching for the same part. No doubt it was a Manikon.

He wasn't about to let one Manikon come between him and a new motivator. Anakin threw himself forward, but he miscalculated how stable his footing was. Part of the heap began to slide, taking him along with it. He felt something or someone grab his ankle.

He crashed backward, at the same time reaching out to grab at the creature holding him. He felt some fabric in his fingers and held on. Together, the two of them banged and slid down the heap. Anakin smashed against sharp objects and bumped against durasteel and chunks of ferrocrete, still furiously hanging on to the scrap of fabric while his ankle was held securely in the creature's grasp.

At last they hit bottom. Anakin wrenched his foot away and sprang to his feet, ready for battle. The other creature did the same.

The hood of the creature fell back, and Anakin found himself face-to-face with a fellow Jedi student, Tru Veld.

"What are you doing here?" Anakin hissed angrily.

"That was my part," Tru answered. "I had my hand right on it."

"I was reaching for it — "

"And thanks to you, it's lost now."

Suddenly Anakin spotted the part on the ground between them. It must have slid down along with them. He pounced on it.

"It's not lost now!" he cried, grinning.

"Give that to me, Anakin," Tru said, his slanted silver eyes gleaming. Tru was a humanoid species, a native of the planet Teevan. His skin had a silvery cast, and he was tall and lanky. Teevans were exceptionally flexible and could bend in surprising ways. Anakin suddenly remembered that this quality had made Tru very good at fighting.

"I'm not afraid of you," Anakin said.

"Of course you're not," Tru said in a disgusted tone. "I'm not going to fight you for it. I'm waiting for you to do the right thing."

Anakin frowned. There were times he forgot he was a Jedi.

For a moment, he had been the slave boy on Tatooine, still bound by the rules of play on that harsh world. Those who find, keep. Those who hesitate, lose.

He wasn't a slave boy. He was a Jedi.

"I have a Protocol Droid with a bad motivator," Anakin said. "I really need this."

But Tru wasn't listening. He was squinting into the darkness. "Now we're in for it," he said in a low tone. He signaled to Anakin. A short distance away, Anakin saw a clump of moving shapes. Manikons.

"If we're very quiet," Anakin murmured, "they won't spot us." He took a step back, and his foot kicked a piece of durasteel scrap. It landed against another piece of junk with a loud clang.

"Is that what you call quiet?" Tru hissed.

The Manikons turned. They saw the Jedi.

"Maybe if we don't move, they won't come at us," Anakin breathed.

The Manikons surged forward.

"Interesting notion," Tru said. "Got any other ideas?"

Manikons ran on four legs and reared up to two when attacking. They had blunt, heavy feet that they used to bludgeon their enemy. If they got close, they could spew a stinging venom from their eyes that had the power to temporarily blind their attacker.

There was no question that Anakin and Tru would need their lightsabers. Before the thought had completely registered, Anakin found the hilt in his hand. He didn't think it was such a good idea to reveal the fact that two Jedi were scavenging beneath the city. But he didn't particularly want to be pummeled and blinded, either.

Tru jumped to his left, and Anakin immediately saw his strategy. He wanted to avoid the pummeling feet and the stinging venom, which could only be directed straight ahead.

Anakin followed Tru, leaping to engage the first Manikon. He knew he was a more aggressive fighter than Tru. He needed to avoid wounding or killing. He just had to frighten the Manikons enough to retreat.

"If we attack their bundles, they'll retreat," he told Tru confidently. "They won't want to lose what they have."

He leaped forward, going after the booty tied to their backs in large sacks. Whirling and dodging the flying feet, he slashed at the straps of leather tying the bags to their backs. The maneuver required the most precise of touches. A fraction off, and he could easily slice off an arm. This was why he loved the action of a lightsaber. It was the ultimate instrument. He had seen firsthand the mistake that many Jedi students made. They did not realize how delicate it could be, how you could use it like a breath of air. Like a feather, not a stick, the best lightsaber teacher, Soara Antana, had said.