Attack of the Clones Read Online Free PDF

pull himself up at all, it sped away, dragging him along.
    “Hold on, Dad!” Owen, the driver, cried to him.
    Cliegg did. With the same stubbornness that had sustained him through all the difficult times at the moisture farm, the same gritty determination that had allowed him to conquer the harsh wild land of Tatooine, Cliegg Lars held on. For all his life, and with Tuskens in fast pursuit, Cliegg Lars held on.
    And for Shmi, for the only chance she had of any rescue, Cliegg Lars held on.
    Back up the slope, Owen stopped the speeder and leapt off, grabbing at his father’s torn leg. He tied it off as well as he could with the few moments he had, then helped Cliegg, who was fast slipping from consciousness, to lie over the back of the speeder.
    Then Owen sped away, throttle flat out. He knew that he had to get his father home, and quickly. The vicious wound had to be cleaned and sealed.
    It occurred to Owen that only a single pair of speeders were to be seen fleeing the massacre ahead of him, and that through all the commotion behind, he didn’t hear the hum of a single speeder engine.
    Forcing despair away, finding the same grounded determination that sustained Cliegg, Owen didn’t think of the many lost friends, didn’t think of his father’s plight, didn’t think of anything except the course to his necessary destination.
    “This is not good news,” Captain Panaka remarked, after delivering the blow to Senator Amidala.
    “We’ve suspected all along that Count Dooku and his separatists would court the Trade Federation and the various commercial guilds,” Padmé replied, trying to put a good face on it all. Panaka had just come in with Captain Typho, his nephew, with the report that the Trade Federation had thrown in with the separatist movement that now threatened to tear the Republic apart.
    “Viceroy Gunray is an opportunist,” she continued. “He will do anything that he believes will benefit him financially. His loyalties end at his purse. Count Dooku must be offering him favorable trade agreements, free run to produce goods without regard to the conditions of the workers or the effect on the environment. Viceroy Gunray has left more than one planet as a barren dead ball, floating in space. Or perhaps Count Dooku is offeringthe Trade Federation absolute control of lucrative markets, without competition.”
    “I’m more concerned with the implications to you, Senator,” Panaka remarked, drawing a curious stare from Padmé.
    “The separatists have shown themselves not to be above violence,” he explained. “There have been assassination attempts across the Republic.”
    “But wouldn’t Count Dooku and the separatists consider Senator Amidala almost an ally at this time?” Captain Typho interjected, and both Panaka and Padmé looked at the usually quiet man in surprise.
    Padmé’s look quickly turned into a stare; there was an angry edge to her fair features. “I am no friend to any who would dissolve the Republic, Captain,” she insisted, her tone leaving no room for debate—and of course, there would be no debating that point. In the few years she had been a Senator, Amidala had shown herself to be among the most loyal and powerful supporters of the Republic, a legislator determined to improve the system, but to do so within the framework of the Republic’s constitution. Senator Amidala fervently believed that the real beauty of the governing system was its built-in abilities, even demands, for self-improvement.
    “Agreed, Senator,” Typho said with a bow. He was shorter than his uncle but powerfully built, muscles filling the blue sleeves of his uniform, his chest solid under the brown leather tunic. He wore a black leather patch over his left eye, which he had lost in the battle with that same Trade Federation a decade before. Typho had been just a teenager then, but had shown himself well, and made his uncle Panaka proud. “And no offense meant. But on this issue concerning the creation