Obi-Wan was hardly more enthusiastic than Padmé had been, but at least he did not try to threaten Qui-Gon with the Queen’s displeasure. Of course, he’s known me long enough to realize it would be a pointless thing to do, Qui-Gon thought.
As he shut off the comlink, Shmi came out onto the porch that ran along the rear of the slave quarters. She watched the excited group around the Podracer for a moment, her expression grave.
Qui-Gon rose and joined her. “You should be proud of your son,” he said gently. “He gives without any thought of reward.”
“He knows nothing of greed,” Shmi said. “He has—” She stopped short and gave Qui-Gon a sidelong look, as if she was not sure how much to say.
“He has special powers,” Qui-Gon prompted.
“Yes.” Shmi’s voice was hardly more than a whisper.
“He can see things before they happen,” Qui-Gon continued. “That’s why he appears to have such quick reflexes. It is a Jedi trait.”
“He deserves better than a slave’s life.”
“The Force is unusually strong with him, that much is clear,” Qui-Gon murmured. He could feel that the Force was with this woman, too, though not nearly so strongly as with her son. Where had Anakin gotten such strength? “Who was his father?”
Shmi looked away. “There was no father, that I know of,” she said in a low voice. “I carried him, I gave birth…I can’t explain what happened.” When Qui-Gon did not reply, she glanced back and said, “He was special from the very beginning. Can you help him?”
“I’m afraid not,” Qui-Gon said, staring down at the Podracer. “Had he been born in the Republic, we would have identified him early, and he would have become a Jedi, no doubt. He has the way. But it’s too late for him now. He’s too old.”
Even as he spoke, he wondered whether that were true.
The Council might make an exception for someone so talented. He was more and more certain that the Force had drawn him to Anakin for some specific purpose.
Anakin had never felt so happy. His Podracer did work—well, he’d always known it would, but it was different, actually having the engines ignite for real. He was entered in the Boonta Race, and Padmé would watch him. He would win this time, he knew it. I have to win. For Padmé. And he had a real Jedi Knight staying with him, even if it was only for a night or two. With a sigh of contentment, he leaned back to look at the stars.
“Sit still, Annie,” said Qui-Gon from beside him. “Let me clean this cut.”
The cut was nothing; he’d had hundreds of worse ones. But he couldn’t contradict a Jedi. “There are so many stars!” he said instead. “Do they all have a system of planets?”
“Most of them,” Qui-Gon replied.
“Has anyone been to them all?”
The Jedi laughed. “Not likely.”
“I want to be the first one to see them all,” Anakin said. To get away from Tatooine, to go to places where no one knew that he had ever been a slave, to see all the places Padmé must have seen, and more…Something pricked his arm. “Ow!”
“There,” Qui-Gon said, wiping a patch of blood from Anakin’s arm. “Good as new.”
“Annie!” his mother shouted from inside. “Bedtime!”
Qui-Gon scraped some of the blood onto a small chip. Anakin stared. “What are you doing?”
“Checking your blood for infections,” Qui-Gon said.
Anakin looked at him suspiciously. “I’ve never seen—”
“Annie!” His mother sounded almost cross. “I’m not going to tell you again!”
She would, though; he had at least one more “last time” call before she got really mad. And he still had a lot of questions…but Qui-Gon gestured him inside. “Go on,” the Jedi said. “You have a big day tomorrow.”
Anakin hesitated. “Good night,” Qui-Gon said pointedly.
Grown-ups! Anakin rolled his eyes. But there was no getting out of it. He slid down from the porch railing and ran into the house.
Qui-Gon watched until the door closed behind Anakin, then inserted the blood-smeared chip into his comlink and called the ship. Obi-Wan answered at once. “Make an analysis of this blood sample I’m sending you,” Qui-Gon told him.
“It’ll take a minute,” Obi-Wan said.
“I need a midi-chlorian count.” The midi-chlorian symbionts channeled the Force to individuals. The more midi-chlorians were present in a person’s cells, the more easily that person could sense the Force. Qui-Gon was sure that Anakin’s blood would have a high number of midi-chlorians. The question is how high.…
“All right, I’ve got it,” Obi-Wan said—but he did not continue.
“What are your readings?” Qui-Gon asked after a moment.
“Something must be wrong with the transmission.” Obi-Wan sounded uncertain.
Qui-Gon pressed the test button on his comlink. “Here’s a signal check.”
“Strange,” Obi-Wan said after a moment. “The transmission seems to be in good order, but the reading is off the chart—over twenty thousand.”
“That’s it then,” Qui-Gon said with satisfaction. This was why the Force had brought him to Anakin. With a midi-chlorian count like that, the boy needed training, no matter how old he was.
“Even Master Yoda doesn’t have a midi-chlorian count that high!” Obi-Wan continued.
“No Jedi has,” Qui-Gon murmured. Until now. But the boy was a slave. How could they get him safely off Tatooine? They couldn’t just buy him; they didn’t even have enough money to buy hyperdrive parts.
“What does it mean?”
“I’m not sure,” Qui-Gon said, and cut off the link. He would have to think about this. Leaning back, he looked out at the stars.
The long, sinister Sith spacecraft settled to the ground atop a rocky mesa in the Tatooine desert. Darth Maul checked the ship’s readouts to make sure no one had detected the landing. There was not much more of Tatooine left to search, and he did not want to lose his prey at the last minute through carelessness. He did not leave the ship until he was satisfied that no detectors were focused in his direction.
Outside, he studied the horizon briefly, then lowered his electrobinoculars. Three more cities to check for the missing Jedi and their spaceship. Only three. Soon, I will have them. Two probes per city should be enough to do the job. He punched a code into the control pad on his wrist.
Six black globes floated out of the ship. As they started toward the distant city lights, they split up into pairs, two probe droids per city. Darth Maul watched until they vanished in the darkness. Soon.
The twin suns had just risen when Amidala, dressed once more in Padmé’s clothes, came out into the yard to check on the Podracer. She thought she understood Shmi’s worries a little better, now that she had gotten a good look at the thing. The Podracer resembled a chariot, pulled by two souped-up Radon-Ulzer Pod engines. Anakin’s Pod was tiny, just large enough to hold him and all the controls. His engines, by contrast, were huge—narrow gold machines twice the length of the Podracer, and at least as big around, even with the foils closed.
Artoo-Detoo was still painting the Pod. “I hope you’re about finished,” Amidala said. Artoo gave a whistle that could only mean yes. As she turned away, Amidala saw Anakin’s friend Kitster riding toward them on an eopie, leading a second animal behind him. Time to go, she thought.
She walked over to Anakin, who was still sleeping soundly beside the Podracer. He looked so young…and they were risking everything on him. If Anakin doesn’t win, we’ll be stuck on Tatooine. What will become of my people then? She sighed and touched Anakin’s cheek.
Anakin stirred and looked up at her, blinking. “You were in my dream,” he said hazily. “You were leading a huge army into battle.”
“I hope not. I hate fighting.” Amidala felt another little chill run down her spine. What was it about this boy that unnerved her so? “Your mother wants you to come in and clean up. We have to leave soon.”
Nodding, Anakin stood up. He saw
his friend and the eopies, and waved at the Podracer. “Hook them up, Kitster!” he called. Then he looked at Amidala. “I won’t be long. Where’s Qui-Gon?”
“He and Jar Jar left already,” Amidala told him. Anakin nodded and ran inside.
I do not like this idea of Qui-Gon’s, Amidala thought as she watched him leave. But it was too late for any more objections. They were committed.
Judging from the crowd in the Podracing hangar, the Boonta Race was a very important event. Qui-Gon could see natives of nearly every one of the Outer Rim worlds, from Malastare to Tund. Each of them had brought a custom-designed Podracer and a crew of droids and mechanics to work on them. The prize money for this race must be significant, to attract so many. Watto seemed to take it for granted; he flew alongside Qui-Gon without paying much attention to the racers or their crews.
“I want to see your spaceship the moment the race is over,” Watto said as they made their way toward the area assigned to Anakin.
“Patience, my blue friend,” Qui-Gon replied. “You’ll have your winnings before the suns set, and we’ll be far away from here.” But with or without Anakin Skywalker? He still had no idea how to free the boy and his mother, though he had spent a considerable part of the night thinking about it. An opportunity will arise.
“Not if your ship belongs to me, I think,” Watto said. “And I warn you—no funny business.”
“You don’t think Anakin will win?”
Watto laughed. “That boy is a credit to your race, but Sebulba there is going to win, I think. He always does. I’m betting heavily on Sebulba.”
This is it. This is the chance I’ve been waiting for. “I’ll take that bet,” Qui-Gon said.
Abruptly, Watto stopped laughing. “What? What do you mean?”
“I’ll wager my new racing Pod against…say…the boy and his mother.”
“A Pod for slaves?” Watto considered. “Well, perhaps. But just one. The mother, maybe. The boy isn’t for sale.”
“The boy is small; he can’t be worth much,” Qui-Gon said persuasively. “For the fastest Pod ever built…”
Watto shook his head.
“Both, or no bet,” Qui-Gon said. If he could free both of them…
Watto shook his head again. “No Pod’s worth two slaves, not by a long shot. One slave or nothing.”
“The boy, then,” said Qui-Gon. Shmi wanted freedom for her son. She would understand. But would Anakin?
Watto pulled a red-and-blue chance cube from his pocket. “We’ll let fate decide. Blue it’s the boy, red his mother.” As he tossed it down, Qui-Gon reached out with the Force and twitched the cube. It landed blue side up. Watto glared, first at the cube, then at Qui-Gon. “You won the small toss, outlander, but you won’t win the race,” he growled. “So it makes little difference.” The thought seemed to cheer him, and he gave a gravelly laugh.
As Watto started toward the grandstand, Anakin’s Podracer arrived in a parade of pieces. First came Anakin and Padmé, riding an eopie and dragging one engine behind them; then came Anakin’s friend Kitster on a second eopie, dragging the other engine. Last of all, Artoo-Detoo pulled the Pod itself, with Shmi riding in it as if it were a landspeeder.
Watto stopped by Anakin’s eopie. “Better stop your friend’s betting,” Qui-Gon heard him say in Huttese, “or I’ll end up owning him, too.” Still chuckling, he flew off.
“What did he mean by that?” Anakin asked with a scowl as he dismounted.
“I’ll tell you later,” Qui-Gon said. No need to put any more pressure on the boy. He had enough riding on his actions already, and he knew how important it was. Qui-Gon could sense the tension within him.
“This is so wizard!” said Kitster, pulling up with the second engine. “I’m sure you’ll finish the race this time, Annie.”
Padmé looked at Anakin. “You’ve never won a race? Not even finished?” She sounded horrified.
“I will this time!” Anakin said defiantly.
“Of course you will,” Qui-Gon told him in a soothing tone. “Let’s get this Podracer together.” From the corner of his eye, he saw Padmé glaring at him, but the Queen’s favorite could wait. Anakin was the one on whom their hopes depended.
As they checked the engines, Qui-Gon felt the dangerous tension within Anakin change slowly to normal excitement. The Jedi breathed a small sigh of relief. Though he did not doubt the power of the Force, the Force could not act through a mind clouded by fear.
The signal came for the Podracers to take their positions. Anakin joined the row of pilots, while the rest of the group and the eopies hauled his Podracer out into the arena. The grandstand was huge and filled to overflowing. There must be a hundred thousand beings here, Qui-Gon thought.
Brightly colored canopies shaded the more expensive seats, and food vendors had set up stands in several places. The racecourse itself swung into the desert and out of sight. Most of the spectators had purchased small, specialized view screens so they could follow every minute of the Podrace. The excitement in the air was catching.
A two-headed Troig announcer began his commentary. Qui-Gon saw several of the sluglike Hutts ooze into a large box near the center of the grandstand. The pilots all bowed to them, while one of the Troig’s heads announced, “His honor, our glorious host, Jabba the Hutt has entered the arena.”
The Hutt in the center of the box waved to the crowd. As Kitster unhitched the eopies, Jabba began announcing the names and planets of the Podracers. Shmi bent and hugged Anakin tightly. “Be safe,” she told him in a tone that was half-command, half-entreaty.
“I will, Mom,” Anakin said. “I promise.”
Unsteadily, Shmi walked toward the grandstand. Anakin was already double-checking the cables that held the engines to the Podracer.
“…Anakin Skywalker tuta Tatooine…” boomed Jabba the Hutt’s voice, and the crowd roared approval. Anakin waved, then returned to his work. A good sign, thought Qui-Gon. He is not easily distracted.
It was nearly time for them to go. Qui-Gon gestured for Jar Jar and Padmé to join Shmi in the stands. Jar Jar nodded and turned to Anakin. “Dis berry loony, Annie,” he said. “May da guds be kind, mesa palo.”
Anakin grinned at him. Padmé came up to him next, and Qui-Gon stiffened slightly. But all she did was kiss Anakin’s cheek and say, “You carry all our hopes.”
“I won’t let you down,” Anakin replied with determination.
As Padmé left to join Shmi, the Hutt finished his introductions. The crowd cheered. Qui-Gon helped Anakin into the Podracer and made sure that he was properly strapped in. “Are you all set, Annie?”
Anakin nodded.
Qui-Gon hesitated. “Remember, concentrate on the moment. Feel. Don’t think. Trust your instincts.” It was as near as he could safely come to telling Anakin to use the Force that flowed so strongly in him. Without training, more specific advice would only confuse the boy. Smiling, Qui-Gon added, “May the Force be with you.”
As he walked to the stands to join the others, Qui-Gon heard the roar of dozens of Podracer engines starting.
It is up to Anakin now.
Anakin felt a familiar surge of excitement as his engines began to roar. Excitement, and fear—but Podracing fear was the only kind of fear that felt good. He could forget about Watto, and about being a slave. When he raced, he was in control of his fate. If he crashed, if he won, it was because of his own decisions, not his owner’s. He had tried to explain to his mother once, but she was so worried about his racing that she didn’t really listen.
The starting light flashed green, and Anakin forgot everything but the race. He shoved the control levers, hoping to establish a good position from the very beginning. The Podracer leaped forward…and the engines coughed and died.
No! They can’t do this! Frantically, Anakin worked the controls as Podracer after Podracer swerved around him and vanished into the desert. Finally, he saw the problem—the fuel regulator had been manually adjusted to full open, and the engines
had flooded. How did that happen? Artoo checked it; Kitster checked it; I checked it.…He lost more precious seconds waiting for the extra fuel to evaporate and the engines to start again. At last, they ignited.
Without waiting to see if the engines would keep running, Anakin sent his Podracer screaming after the pack. As he rounded the first turn, he glimpsed a smoking fireball smeared across the base of a rock formation. Somebody swung too wide and crashed. Got to remember to watch that on the next lap.
He sped easily through the series of stone arches; without other Podracers getting in his way, they were simple. The trailing Podracers came into view ahead of him. I’m catching them! Again, he worked the controls, feeding power first to one engine, then the other. The Podracer swept around the other stragglers, one after another. If I can get out of this bunch, I can really catch up.…
A Podracer just ahead of him slid sideways, blocking him. Anakin veered to the opposite side, but the other driver seemed to expect it, and cut him off again. And again. Anakin frowned in concentration. There’s a drop coming up—where I wiped out, two races ago. He pulled back, leaving an extra length between his Podracer and the one that blocked him. Then, just as the other driver went over the drop, Anakin shoved both engine controls full open.
The Podracer surged forward. It flew off the edge of the cliff and over the blocking racer, barely missing the other driver’s engines. The Pod came down with a jolt that rattled Anakin’s teeth, but a quick check showed all the warning lights still shining green. It worked! Too bad it happened way out here; I hope Padmé was watching a view screen.
At the canyon dune turn, he saw another wreck ahead of him. Some instinct made him veer to one side, though he was nowhere close to the burning Podracer. An instant later, a shot bounced off the rear of his Pod.
Tusken Raiders! Good thing I dodged in time. He sped up unevenly, trying to make the Podracer a hard target to hit. He must have been successful; no more shots struck his Pod while he was still within range.
Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace Page 6
