"I am Qui-Gon Jinn and this is Obi-Wan Kenobi," Qui-Gon introduced them.

"Yes, big surprise, Jedi are not hard to spot," the pilot mumbled, picking up a loading carton.

"And you are…" Qui-Gon waited.

"Pilot. I am what I do." He had the red-streaked yellow eyes of a Phindian, as well as hands that dangled near his ankles.

"You're a Phindian," Obi-Wan said. "I have a friend… someone I know is a Phindian. His name is Guerra." Guerra had been a fellow mining slave on the platform where Obi-Wan had been held captive. He had almost lost his life in order to save Obi-Wan.

"So I know him?" Pilot answered gruffly. "I am expected to know every Phindian in the galaxy!"

"No, of course not," Obi-Wan said, confused. The pilot's rudeness surprised him. It was almost as though Obi-Wan had offended him in some way.

"Then let me load, and you board," Pilot answered brusquely.

"Come, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon directed.

Obi-Wan trailed after Qui-Gon into the cockpit, where they took their seats.

"For our first mission together, Yoda has chosen something he thinks will be routine," Qui-Gon told him. "Of course, Yoda also says,?If routine you count on, disappointed your hopes will be.'"

Obi-Wan grinned. "It is better to expect nothing, and let each moment surprise you," he said. It was something he had been taught at the Temple.

Qui-Gon nodded. "The planet of Gala has been ruled for many years by the Beju-Tallah dynasty. They were successful in uniting a world with deep tribal hatreds. There are three tribes on Gala? the city people, the hill people, and the sea people. Over the years the Tallah rulers grew corrupt. They plundered the planet of wealth, and the people are close to revolt. The old Queen knows this. Instead of giving the throne to her son, Prince Beju, she has agreed to elections. The people will choose among three candidates. The Prince is among them. He has lived in seclusion for mush of his life. The Queen feared for his safety. Yet he was trained as a ruler, and is anxious to gain the throne."