Chapter 3

Jar Jar dozed off shortly after a tense meal that Anakin let his droid fill with various bits of conversation. The outlanders spoke of their highly secretive mission and necessity for the parts they needed, as well as where they were going. Padmé eventually asked about him, but Anakin deftly steered the conversation away from himself, though he spoke easily about slavery in general.

With neither the Jedi nor Padmé commenting on the bitter undertone he couldn't quite keep out of his voice, he told them of how, at the age of ten, he and his mother had been won by Watto in a bet on the pod racing circuit. They'd spent three years having Watto exploit his mechanical aptitude before he'd begun racing. He didn't go into detail and the curious look Padmé shot him told him she wasn't fooled by how he avoided the subject.

Finally, Anakin settled back from his meal and wiped his lips with a piece of cloth that passed for a napkin. "Needless to say, slavery is alive and well on Tatooine."

"Why don't you just run away?"

"Every slave has an implant to prevent it - so that if they do decide to run away their master can simply flick a switch and blow them up."

"That's horrible!"

"That's life," Anakin took a sip of his drink and shrugged. He wasn't about to mention the fact that the whole transceiver was a lie. He'd built a machine to scan himself and found nothing. It was simply a fear tactic to keep the slaves in line. Anakin was betting that some day he could use it to his advantage - he just didn't know how yet. "Besides, where would I go? Everything I know is here."

"You could come with us." Padmé told him, and then blushed hotly as if she realized what she'd said.

"It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, Padmé, really I do, but you can't even afford the parts for your ship. How could you possibly afford to pay for me? I'm worth more to Watto if I'm under his employ."

"Speaking of ship parts," Qui-Gon broke in; he'd been watching the young man - a curious mix of childhood innocence and grown-up cynicism - intently. "Is there anything that Watto would take in trade for them seeing as how we don't have the credits?"

Anakin's gaze flicked directly to Padmé and then back to his glass. There was something alright. "No; nothing."

"He's got to have a weakness of some kind," Padmé pressed. "Something that we can exploit."

"Nothing you could exploit without funds, Padmé. Watto's only vices are credits and betting on the pod races."

Qui-Gon stroked his beard thoughtfully and Anakin tried to ignore the look.

"Nothing at all?" Padmé pressed.

Anakin flushed guiltily under her pleading gaze and slumped in his chair. "Well, there is maybe one thing."

"What?"

He didn't look up, instead used his thumb to pick sand from under one nail and watched the grains intently. "You could enter my pod in the Boonta Eve race tomorrow and, if I win, the winnings would more than cover the cost of the parts you need."

"Your pod?"

Anakin nodded, still not looking up, feeling as if he was standing directly under the twin suns at high noon. "Yeah. Watto doesn't know I've been building it."

"Does it work?"

Anakin's head jerked up at the Jedi's no-nonsense tone and was stung into responding. "It will - once I find a power source. I can show it to you after the storm lets up. It'll be the fastest racer ever built - one that even Sebulba won't be able to beat!"

"You're very confident."

"I should be, Master Jedi," he refused to call the Jedi by his first name. "I've had almost ten years of practicing my mechanical skills. C3P0 was a project I did when I was a kid and bored - when I needed to use my hands. I started building my pod racer when my step brother, Owen, began smuggling in parts for me early this season."

"Why would your step brother smuggle parts in for you?"

"Why not?" Anakin met Padmé's gaze for a brief moment before looking back to his hands. One was clenched, the knuckles turning white. "The idea was to make Watto believe the pod racer is Owen's and wager me against the winnings - with me as the driver - in one of the bigger races." He swallowed hard, realizing what he was offering to give up in helping them.

"We can't let you give up your chance at freedom just to help us." Padmé's tone was firm and uncompromising causing him to look up in surprise. He caught her watching Qui-Gon with a dark expression. "We'll just have to find another way."

Qui-Gon wasn't looking at the fiery young woman; his gaze had never left Anakin.

Anakin avoided the Jedi's gaze, feeling the muscles in his stomach curl, the insistent feeling that had been pushing him towards this conversation all evening exploding into the fore-front of his mind. Bile rose in his throat and he cleared it. "The decision isn't yours, Padmé."

"Anakin-"

"No," he shook his head, finally lifting it completely to look at her with certainty. This was the path, his senses were screaming. This is why building the pod racer has been of utmost importance. To help this young woman get on with her journey. He managed a faint smile. "The choice is mine. If you can convince Watto that the pod racer is yours, and for him to let me pilot it, I'll make sure you have the parts you need."

"And your freedom, Anakin?" Qui-Gon asked knowingly.

"I won't be a slave forever, Master Jedi. I'll simply have to wait until opportunity knocks again."

--

Anakin cautiously opened the back patio door to his small home and checked for swirling sand. The wind had died several minutes earlier, and he'd wanted to be sure it wasn't simply a lull. Everything was quiet, the flat plains of sun-bleached granules stretching out beyond towards the slowly setting suns. He stepped out, taking a quick look around, and then eagerly jumped the ledge to the courtyard below.

Or rather, the small walled enclosure that passed as one. Inside it was a sleek, angular metal body with a bucketed seat in the center, done in a blue and white paint scheme. He patted the nose lovingly, running his hands along it in a possessive caress and enjoying the feel of polished metal against his hands. The sleek lines of the craft were all angled specifically for speed. The nacelles, two large tubular engines which held yet untested speed capacity, lay on either side, attached by cables to the body. It was the feeling of freedom under his finger tips.

Anakin glanced back up towards the balcony and grinned. "She's a beauty, isn't she?"

"She's wonderful," Padmé agreed, taking the stairs to join him on the ground.

Qui-Gon crossed his arms over his chest and looked thoroughly unimpressed. "She certainly looks like she's built for speed, Anakin. Here." He pulled a cylindrical object from a fold in his robes and tossed it to the young man. "Try this."

"Thanks." Anakin caught the object, turning it over one in his hands and then bent over the racer's control panels. Padmé reached the ground as Anakin finished connecting the power cell to the pod racer and stood back. He grinned at her eagerly. "Shall we see what it does?"

She nodded; his enthusiasm catching.

Anakin vaulted over the side and into the body of the racer. He leaned back, almost completely disappearing into the metallic body and he knew the moment Padmé realized there was only a thin shell of metal between him and the ground. Her eyes widened and she looked at him in shock.

"You don't have a death wish, do you?"

He grinned, laughing. "Never. Hold on!"

Padmé stepped back two steps as Anakin adjusted the power flow and hit the ignition switch. It took a couple of tries before the engines spewed black smoke and then coughed to life, whirring up with a powerful roar. Anakin let out a whoop, punching one fist in the air, elation and adrenaline coursing through him as the magnitude of his accomplishment hit him.

"Yeah!!"

Padmé's delighted laughter was drowned out by the roar of the engines, but there was no mistaking the set of the Jedi's shoulders on the balcony above. Anakin smile was feral. Let him doubt. He, Anakin Skywalker, was going to win the Boonta Eve classic - he just knew it!

--

After the successful trial of the pod racer, Anakin wasted no time in letting Qui-Gon know that the sound would have carried. If Qui-Gon was going to make anything happen, or hope Watto would believe that he'd won it in a game of chance, they had to act quickly. Anakin volunteered to run ahead and soften up his Master; Watto would take it better coming from his pilot than from an outlander.

Qui-Gon bowed to Anakin's greater knowledge of the situation and agreed to meet him at Watto's shop to finalize the arrangements for the following day. Anakin had then, hesitantly, offered them the use of his home for the evening. Seeing as how it was only for one night, and they'd be leaving after the race, he didn't see the harm in it. The Jedi Master had agreed, saying that they would be better off sticking together and keeping a low profile until the race the following afternoon.

"Master?"

"I thought I sent you home, boy." Watto told him with a frown, his wings battling the air in a constant hum.

Anakin swallowed the anger he always felt when Watto called him boy; it was bad enough to be the creature's slave, but that was the ultimate insult. He managed to find a shrug and an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry, Master, I wouldn't have returned if the outlanders hadn't approached me."

"The outlanders? What for?"

Anakin met Watto's gaze squarely, knowing he appreciated frank speaking. "They want to sponsor me in the Boonta Eve Classic - I told them you would have to approve it before I could say yes or no."

Watto stroked his flaccid chin, eyeing Anakin carefully, but Qui-Gon stepped into the shop at that moment and Watto turned his attention to the Jedi. "The boy tells me you wanna sponsor him in the race. How can you do this? Not on republic credits, I think."

Qui-Gon produced a hand-held holo emitter from his robes and flicked the on switch. Anakin's eyes widened as he took in the hologram of the ship. Qui-Gon's next words both startled and humbled him, showing him exactly how much faith Qui-Gon put in his abilities. "My ship will be the entry fee. It's in good order - except for the parts I need."

"Very nice... Nubian I think." Watto flew upwards, stroking his chin again, and looking at Qui-Gon curiously. "What will the boy drive? He smashed up my pod last race - will take him long time to fix, I think."

"Sebulba flashed me with his vents," Anakin told Qui-Gon in his own self defense. "I saved the pod - mostly."

"That you did." Watto's reluctant praise had Anakin straightening his shoulders. It was rare his master said anything good about him. "The boy is good, I'll give him that."

"I've acquired a pod in a game of chance. The fastest ever built." Qui-Gon sent Anakin a glance and a faint half-smile.

"I hope you didn't kill anyone I know." Watto told him with a chuckle. Anakin's eyes narrowed on his master. Watto seemed to be taking this in stride, far more easily than anything Anakin had seen before - except sure thing bets. "Well then, you supply the pod, I supply the boy and we split the winnings fifty-fifty, I think."

Anakin's gaze snapped to Qui-Gon's in alarm but the Jedi Master was obviously no novice when it came to haggling.

"If we're going to split the winnings, I suggest you front the entry fee. And if we win, you keep all the winnings, minus the parts I need. Either way, you win."

Watto appeared to consider the deal but Anakin knew, by the way his dangling legs twitched, that the Jedi had offered his Master a deal too good to pass up. Watto made a show of reluctance and then grinned. "Deal." He slapped the Jedi's hand in the traditional bargain sealing shake and then Qui-Gon smiled and departed.

Anakin suppressed a whoop. They'd done it! Watto had agreed to let him pilot his own pod racer in the biggest race of the season!

Watto turned to him with a chuckle. "Your friend's a little foolish, me thinks."

Anakin managed to keep the disgusted look off his face. "Then why agree with him?"

Watto's smile revealed most of his rotting teeth. "Because when you lose, his ship is mine. Go; rest."

Anakin didn't wait to be told a second time, darting from the hut and back out into the streets. His disgust for Watto swelled in his breast as he stalked away from the junk shop. Some day, he promised himself silently. Some day I'm going to come back here and wipe that cocky grin right off his face!

"Anakin?"

He stopped, surprised. "Padmé?" He glanced around, looking for her Jedi shadow and frowned when he didn't see it. "Where's Qui-Gon?"

"He's looking over the pod." A blush, which seemed a permanent adornment around him, tinted her cheeks a light pink. "I wanted to talk to you."

Anakin resumed his walk, but shortened his steps to match hers as she picked up her pace. "About what?"

"Tomorrow. Is it really as dangerous as you say?"

He shrugged. "More."

"More?" Padmé stopped, staring at him aghast. "More dangerous?"

Anakin turned to face her, looking left and then right before grabbing her arm and dragging her into a nearby doorway. He darted a look outside before lowering his voice. "I'll be fine, Padmé. Really. Qui-Gon was right; my reflexes are a Jedi trait."

"I don't understand."

Anakin's tone turned bitter. "I've always had abnormally fast reflexes for a human boy. The year before mom was bought and freed this drifter came in and took an interest in me. He was a Jedi. I thought he'd come to free the slaves; I was wrong."

"What happened?"

"He talked me into a game of speed and skill that showcased my reflexes. I didn't realize until too late that he'd arranged for Watto to be watching. When I won, Watto not only took my winnings - which would have bought my freedom, but took the Jedi aside. I was put in a pod the next day."

"He forced you to race?"

Anakin's shrug was indifferent as he glanced beyond the small cubby they were in. "The first time, yeah. After that I came to love the thrill and the challenge. Mom used to say I was special, that I was here for a purpose. I used to think that when Cleigg saw mom at one of the races, I had found that purpose. But I was wrong."

Padmé was silent, digesting the information. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I was meant to help you."

"You can't know that."

He lifted his hand hesitantly, but it fell as he lost his nerve to touch her. He couldn't - not yet. "I know." He said instead. "I know it with every fiber of my being that this is why I was introduced to pod racing, that this is the reason I was given my skills. Whatever happens to me on the track after I cross that finish line tomorrow doesn't matter - it's getting there that counts."

"You don't mean-" She regarded him horrified, grabbing his arm in alarm. "Anakin, it's not worth killing yourself over!"

His gaze was drawn to her tight grasp of his arm, her fingers flexing as she adjusted her grip. "I always knew pod racing would set me free, Padmé. Death is more welcome than the life I'm currently living."

"Then come with us." Her eyes bore into his, earnest in their recommendation. "Bet yourself against your performance, or better yet, against your pod racer. Make it so that Watto has to give you your freedom."

"It doesn't work that way and you know it." He covered her hand with his own, feeling the softness, the smoothness of her skin. The flashes of the future were there, stronger this time, and his hand twitched away. "The pod belongs to Qui-Gon and he'd never bet me against it. He doesn't like me."

"That's not true!"

Anakin smiled faintly. "Ask him yourself, Padmé. Come on; he's getting worried."

Padmé pulled back on his arm - the grip she hadn't relinquished when he turned to go. "Anakin?"

"Yeah?"

"Are you a Jedi?"

"Nope." He grinned roguishly. "Just able to use what they call the Force is all. Come on."

She followed him, but her hands remained gripped solidly about his forearm as they did, as if she was worried about losing him, that in the loss of his touch he would disappear. He could have told her not to worry, but she didn't seem inclined to listen. Anakin wasn't about to do anything foolish until after they left planet. Once they were safely away and he'd fixed Watto's pod he could contemplate the best way to go out with a bang - or gain his freedom.

--

Anakin leaned back against lo wall, his eyes on the star-lit heavens. He'd whetted Padmé's appetite today, given her a glimpse of what and who had made him the way he was. He picked up a handful of the sand, letting them run slowly through his fingers and into the gentle evening breeze. The sand fell, whirling about his hands to disappear into the dark night.

"Lives are like sand, you know."

Anakin didn't so much as jump, having expected the Jedi to come looking for him. He opened his hand, letting the last of the grains drift away on the wind. "Coarse, unrefined and meaningless?" Qui-Gon's chuckle brought Anakin's gaze down from the sky. "I don't see how that's funny."

"No one's life is meaningless, Anakin." Qui-Gon motioned to the low wall where Anakin had chosen to perch. "May I join you?"

"I guess." Anakin looked out into the night, not wanting to have the Jedi watching him. He felt distinctly uncomfortable with the older man. As a child who'd grown up without a father and the only stable relationship having been with his mother, his comfort level with strangers - especially male strangers - had never been high.

Qui-Gon settled himself on the low wall, watching the young man with curiosity and concern. The silence, long and uncomfortable, stretched between them and Anakin silently willed the older man away. It didn't work - not that he'd expected it to - but because he sensed the Jedi had something he wanted to talk to him about.

Anakin finally sighed, exasperated. "What?"

"Are you always this talkative?"

Anakin's expression darkened. "If you don't like it you can leave, Master Jedi."

"I didn't come here to pick a fight, Anakin," Qui-Gon told him honestly.

Anakin wasn't about to admit that he'd already known that. He simply looked away again. "So? Maybe I don't want your company."

"Then why allow me to stay?"

Why indeed? Anakin struggled internally with the question. He didn't like Jedi, had every reason to distrust them, but something about this Jedi Master instilled confidence, made him want to trust him. Or maybe it was just the Jedi aura - but he doubted it. His feelings had never been wrong about people - only the Jedi who had deliberately hid his intentions. He'd been burned once - he wasn't about to be burned again.

"Anakin?"

Anakin met Qui-Gon's gaze unintentionally as he looked back and was immediately caught. The Jedi's gaze was open, honest. He'd lowered his mental shields deliberately, allowing Anakin to feel for himself, to see for himself, that Qui-Gon's intentions weren't like those of the Jedi who'd hurt him before. Anakin swallowed hard, tearing his gaze away to drop it to his boots. He felt shocked, like standing too close to an unshielded power coupling; the calmness the Jedi radiated wasn't an act like it'd been with the other he'd met. Qui-Gon was truly at peace with his choices. "I guess a part of me wants you to stay."

He didn't see Qui-Gon's smile, but he could well imagine the tilt in his lips. "May I ask why?"

Anakin shrugged uncomfortably, glancing up and then away. "Maybe 'cause I think you can help me. Maybe because Padmé trusts you so I should too. I don't know. I don't like Jedi."

"So I gathered. Care to explain why?"

"Not really." Anakin's head came up in time to catch Qui-Gon's acceptance of his answer. "I just don't trust Jedi."

"Did one of us do something to hurt you?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

Qui-Gon folded his hands into his sleeves, watching the young man with an intent expression. "May I ask you a question?"

"Don't expect an answer."

"I'm rapidly realizing that, Anakin." Qui-Gon replied easily.

"Then you can ask whatever you want."

"How generous. My question is this. Do you judge all species, races, professions and ways of life by your first encounter or do you allow individuals of each to make their own impressions despite your original apathy?"

Anakin jerked as if he'd been struck, the question, the last thing he'd been expecting, blindsiding him like a sucker punch to the gut. Not fair! his mind was screaming. Not fair, the Jedi doesn't play fair! But, despite his initial reaction, his brain was already processing the question. Was he that judgmental? Did he truly base his knowledge of a species, race, profession or way of life on a single individual?

Qui-Gon rose from his seated position, not giving Anakin a chance to recover. "You've asked us to look beyond your status as a slave to see the person underneath, Anakin. I think it would only be fair for you to give me the same courtesy. Good night."

Anakin stared after the Jedi Master, shame quickly stealing over him. He was better than that. He knew better than to judge another individual by the trappings they wore, or where they came from. Was it any different condemning a man he knew next to nothing about as being as bad as the only other example of a Jedi he'd ever known? The embarrassment had him speaking up before he was ready. "Master Jinn?"

Qui-Gon stopped inside the doorway, turning to look at Anakin. "Yes?"

Anakin shifted on the wall, dangling his long legs towards the terrace and finding purchase on the rough stone. He lifted his head. "I... I've let past prejudices dictate my actions towards you. I'm sorry for that; you're right. It's just I have no reason to trust Jedi."

Qui-Gon smiled. "It takes a brave man to admit to his faults and a wise man to recognize them, Anakin. I think tomorrow we'll simply have to give you a reason to trust us. Get some sleep; it's late."

Anakin shook his head. "You go ahead. I think I'll stay out here for a few more minutes."

"Good night, Anakin."

"Good night, Master Jinn."

"Anakin."

"Yes, Master?"

Qui-Gon's smile was almost gentle. "Call me Qui-Gon." And then he was gone.

Anakin stared after the Jedi Master, turning the man's words over in his mind. He'd been called on his prejudice and, while he fully recognized it, he didn't know if he could move beyond it. The previous Jedi had almost certainly guaranteed his life-time as a slave. Unless the Jedi could free him, evening the score, he'd save his judgment for later.