| abstract | - Boonta Eve dawned like any other Tatooine morning, unbearably bright and hot. Yet Qui-Gon took no notice of it as he walked briskly through the streets of Mos Espa intent on going somewhere. The faithful R2-D2 trundled behind him. It seemed as if every being and his bantha was off to the arena this morning. Shops were closed apart from cantinas which were full to bursting, droves of people were in the streets and it was almost impossible to pass a vehicle through them with any form of speed whatsoever. Once at the arena, Watto was not hard to find. Qui-Gon found him in the main hanger, he stood idly where Anakin’s pod was supposed to go when it arrived. It wasn't long before the Toydarian swooped on him and subjected the Jedi to a repetitive, self-praising tirade on what he saw as the set outcome of the day. “I want to see your ship the minute the race is over,” Watto said for what seemed like the tenth time. “Relax, my friend. You’ll have your winnings when the suns set,” Qui-Gon reassured, “And I and my companions will be far away from here.” “Not if your ship belongs to me!” Watto retorted, flapping his wings at a frantic pace. “Well now,” Qui-Gon said, he saw it was the time to add a level to this ‘bargain’, “you don’t think Anakin can win?” “Annie? Win the race?” Watto laughed as if it was the funniest joke he had ever heard. “No offence, outlander, he is a credit to your species, I give you that…but,” he gestured over to the familiar looking Dug getting massaged by two blue female Twi’leks, “I think Sebulba is going to win today.” “What makes you think that?” the Jedi asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “He always wins!” Watto said with a laugh, waving his hands with emotion. “I am betting heavily on Sebulba.” “I’ll take that bet,” Qui-Gon said, turning his back on the Dug. “What?” the smile fell off Watto’s face faster than a sand panther pounced on a womp rat. “What are you talking about?” “I’ll wager my pod, against…” Qui-Gon let his words trail off, intentionally leaving the Toydarian in suspense. “Against the boy and his mother,” the Jedi finished crisply. “No pod is worth two slaves,” Watto growled. “Not even the fastest ever built?” Qui-Gon asked, stepping closer to Watto. “No…well,” Watto scratched his grizzly chin, “perhaps just one. The mother, maybe. The boy is not for sale.” “The boy is small,” Qui-Gon suggested, “he cannot be worth much.” “I don’t think so,” the Toydarian disagreed. “Both, or no bet,” he said. He caught sight of a series of figures on eopies coming closer, it was Anakin, Padmé and the protocol droid with Danta, Shmi and Kitster. With them was the podracer. For a few moments the Jedi observed them assembling the racer, and he stepped aside so Watto’s line of vision matched his own. Several minutes passed before the Toydarian spoke again. “No pod is worth two slaves,” he said, frowning hard at the podracer, “not by a long shot! It’s one slave, or nothing!” “The boy then,” Qui-Gon said, not batting an eyelid. “No, no. Ah...” Watto’s voice slowly changed from contempt to mild amusement, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cube studded blue and red. “We will let fate decide, good thing I have my chance cube here.” He held the cube between his fingers for the Jedi to examine. “Shall we say blue is the boy, and red his mother.” Qui-Gon nodded mutely and Watto tossed the cube. As he did so Qui-Gon made a slight gesture with his hand, the cube turned over and over until finally settling with the blue side up. “What?” Watto looked at Qui-Gon, shock and anger was apparent on his face. Qui-Gon merely shrugged, he had suspected the cube was loaded all along. “You've won that toss, outlander!” Watto barked, stabbing his finger into the air like a loaded blaster. “But that doesn’t mean you will win the race!” “We’ll see,” Qui-Gon said with a sly smile. Watto flitted over to Anakin and addressed him Huttese. “You better stop your friend from betting,” the Toydarian said, “soon I’ll end up owning him too!” And with a laugh, he was off. “What is he talking about?” Anakin asked Qui-Gon. “I’ll tell you later,” the Jedi promised. Kitster walked over to Anakin, his face smeared with grease. “This is really wizard, Annie,” he said with a smile. “I bet you’ll really do it this time.” “Do what?” Padmé asked. “Finish the race of course,” Kitster replied. “What? You’ve never won a race?” Padmé asked, her voice filled with incredulity. “You haven’t even finished one?” “Well…not exactly,” Anakin said shamefacedly, embarrassed to be shown up in front of Padmé and least of all by his best friend. “But Kitster’s right,” Anakin said with a grin. “I will win this time.” Padmé smiled dryly and rolled her eyes. “I'm sure you will,” Qui-Gon said confidently, and patted the boy’s shoulder kindly. As the suns settled in the highest place in the sky the time, for the race drew near. The streets were almost deserted, save a few who kept watch of the race on portable viewscreens. Unnoticed by anyone, one of the black probe droids hovered through the streets. Its large black lens examining everything and missing nothing. But in the stands were full to bursting with beings of many species, the air thick with noise and strange smells. Vendors were making their way up and down the stands, selling refreshments that may have been tasty for one species but fatal for another. And of course there were those in groups, looking up the names of racers as the proceeded onto the track. Anakin walked into all of this, with his podracer towed by eopies. The experience was so unreal that he decided to focus on what was closest to him—for the time being anyway. His mother and Qui-Gon were walking with him, as were Padmé, Danta and Artoo. Threepio came last of all carrying a blue and white flag then left to join the parade of other flags. Over the loudspeakers the two-headed compere introduced the racers in both Basic and Huttese. Ben Quadinaros, Teemto Pagslies , Ody Mandrell, Gasgano, Clegg Holdfast… “Oh no!” Danta shrieked, Anakin’s head whipped around like a krayt dragon that had spotted a bantha. Sure enough, right next to them standing near his over-sized pod was Sebulba, bossing his pit droids and surreptitiously checking out the other racers. “The reigning champion!” shouted the announcer, to deafening cheers. “And the crowd favourite! Se-bul-ba!” The Dug, no stranger to posterity, waved his arms about and smiled indulgently. He noticed Anakin was watching him and waved. Anakin ignored him and helped Qui-Gon and Kitster unload the pod. “And here we have Anakin Skywalker, a local boy,” the announcer said, there were a few cheers, not as many as Sebulba had had but Anakin waved and smiled to the crowd. “Let’s just hope he can finish the race!” the announcer continued before going on to the next racer. Anakin looked at the ground, not wanting any one to see the tears welling in his eyes. It wasn't just an ordinary race, and if he lost there was far more to lose. No, Anakin thought decidedly, shutting down even the possibility or losing. He would win because he had to win. There was no other way about it. In a high box above the track two enormous creatures slithered into view, each accompanied by a considerable retinue. Their appearance was met with cheers, it was Jabba the Hutt and his friend and sometime rival Gardulla. “Chowbaso!” boomed Jabba with a mouth that could easily eat a human head whole. “Tam ka chee Boonta rulee ya, kee madd ahdrudda du wandee!” The crowd roared again, the noise was growing, the anticipation building. “All set,” Kitster said with a smile, he punched Anakin lightly on the arm. “I’ll be right here, Annie.” He had volunteered to wait beside the stands with Artoo if Anakin needed assistance during the race, but Anakin knew he didn’t need to. “Annie,” he felt his mother’s arms around him, holding him tight as if to protect him from any danger that might come his way. She kissed his cheek then put her hands on his shoulders. “Be safe,” she said, trying to be brave for his sake. “I will, Mom,” Anakin promised. “Thesa very loony, Annie,” Danta said, looking askance at the racers, “may tha Guds keep you safe.” “Thanks Danta,” Anakin said, though he noticed the Gungan stood well out of harms way. “You carry all our hopes,” Padmé said, kissing Anakin softly on the cheek. “Be careful,” she added as Anakin could feel his face getting hot. “I…I won’t let you down,” he said, though she gave him a long stare, she wasn't convinced yet. “You’re bantha poodoo,” said Sebulba as he came past, jumping into his cockpit. “Grabbel moggo!” “Don’t count on it, slime ball,” Anakin retorted, walking towards his own cockpit as Qui-Gon approached him. “Kaa bazza kundee da tam brudda!” bellowed Jabba the Hutt, indicating the race would start soon, it was almost time… Qui-Gon helped Anakin into the cockpit and handed the boy his helmet after he was securely strapped in. Anakin fixed the goggles in place and checked his readouts, everything was as it should be. “All set, Annie?” Qui-Gon asked, Anakin merely nodded and somehow, Qui-Gon with his piercing gaze, understood the boy’s silence. “Remember,” the Jedi said softly in the Anakin’s ear, “concentrate on the moment. Feel, don’t think, trust your instincts,” he patted Anakin lightly on the shoulder. “May the Force be with you, Annie,” he added, and as he walked away to where Shmi and the others were standing, had a feeling it would be. “Is he—” Shmi said, her face pale. “He’s fine,” Qui-Gon said, ushering them into the box and it started to ascend. “Master Jinn,” Padmé said in an uncertain voice, “isn’t this quite an unnecessary gamble? If it comes to worse—” “I believe it won’t, Padmé,” the Jedi Master interrupted lightly. “Need I remind you to trust your feelings?” Padmé crossed her arms and leaned against the side of the box as it locked into place. She hoped he was right, he better be right for if he wasn't… she refused to consider the consequences. Anakin could feel his stomach quivering as he waited. This was the worst part, the waiting before the race. Once the race began he was completely within another element and didn’t think about anything. But still, there was the waiting. “Gentlemen, start your engines!” called the compere. Anakin ignited his engines, the flames belching out from behind. His eyes on the small set of lights above, waiting for the green. Any moment now… Above them all Jabba the Hutt bit the head off a small creature and spat it out so it struck a gong. At the same moment the light flashed green and the race was underway.
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