Darth Maul reached out. The Force surged toward the lightsaber in Garfield's paw.
Nothing.
He tried harder, focusing all his will.
The blade didn't so much as twitch.
What?
Garfield glanced down at the lightsaber, then back at Darth Maul, whose outstretched hand trembled with effort.
The cat's whiskers twitched.
"You want this?"
Darth Maul's hand dropped.
He shook his head stiffly. "No. I... occasionally... lose control of my body. Strange movements."
"Ah. Yes. This king understands." Garfield nodded sagely. "Happens to me sometimes too."
Bam
A single paw strike sent Darth Maul spinning.
Before he could recover, Garfield, a blur of orange fur and the Sith found himself flipped, bound in a glowing golden rope, and thoroughly introduced to the business end of feline aggression.
When it was over, Darth Maul's face was a masterpiece of bruises.
A stinking sock, where did that even come from had been woven into a makeshift gag and stuffed firmly between his teeth.
"Mmph! Mmph mmph!"
He thrashed. The rope held.
Garfield dusted off his paws, satisfied, and turned his attention elsewhere.
The intelligence network, courtesy of the Trade Federation's thoroughly compromised systems reported that Qui-Gon's party had reached Coruscant, failed to sway the Senate or the Jedi Council, and were now heading back to Naboo.
Good.
Garfield considered his options. Padmé was sharp, but she didn't need to know everything.
Anakin, young as he was, could already sense more than most. Best to keep this conversation small.
"Robot dog. Hail Qui-Gon's shuttle."
"Acknowledged. Connecting... connection established."
Onboard the inbound shuttle, Qui-Gon felt the vibration in his pocket.
He excused himself quietly, meditation and slipped into his quarters.
The communicator was small, palm-sized. Garfield had given it to him before they'd even set foot on Naboo the first time.
Back then, his warnings had seemed like riddles.
Now, Qui-Gon understood. Almost everything Garfield had said was coming true.
The Sith warrior. The political dead end. The shadows moving behind the scenes.
If this was the path to saving the Jedi... so be it.
He activated the device.
"I am Qui-Gon Jinn."
Garfield's face appeared, if you could call it a face. Orange fur, lazy eyes, a piece of meat hovering near his mouth.
"Qui-Gon. You'll bring your ship to the Trade Federation command vessel. I've captured the Sith."
"You and your apprentice need to know how the next scene plays."
Qui-Gon hesitated. "Obi-Wan? He knows about you, but... if he's not part of this, the Council will question him."
"He might reveal something without meaning to."
Garfield scratched his chin.
"Fine. You all come. Let yourselves be captured. Then escape."
Qui-Gon blinked. "That's... not very Jedi-like."
"Use the Force, influence the pilots. It's a suggestion."
The communication ended.
Qui-Gon stared at the silent device, then sighed. Influence the pilots. Yes. Very Jedi.
In the cockpit, the pilots never noticed the shift.
One moment, they were on course for Naboo's surface.
The next, a gentle nudge, a feeling that this was the right way, the safe way and the shuttle curved toward the looming bulk of the Trade Federation command ship.
By the time anyone realized something was wrong, it was too late.
The shuttle touched down in the hangar bay. The ramp lowered.
And Padmé, Anakin, Obi-Wan, and the droids found themselves staring at a wall of battle droids.
Padmé's voice was sharp. "What happened? Why are we here?"
Pilot One shook his head, dazed. "I... I don't know, Your Majesty. I just... felt like we should come here."
Pilot Two nodded. "Same. Like something was guiding us."
Obi-Wan's hand drifted toward his lightsaber.
He was a Jedi Knight.
And he knew a Force suggestion when he felt one.