Star Wars: Episode 1—A Retelling
The Phantom Menace
By: Tellemicus Sundance
#07: The Podrace

Port Pixelito, Malastare
Sebulba's Legacy Podrace
King's Box

Ran Yen was bursting with an almost uncontrollable energy that filled every cell of his body. The Governor of the Gran Protectorate was seated in the fittingly named 'King's Box' that overlooked the finish line of the race. It was booth that was specially reserved for those of high-class and wealth in society, thus it was only natural that nearly all of the twenty other beings in it with him were Gran government officials or business owners/representatives. There were a few exceptions, of course, like the single Dug who was allowed entry, Doge Nakha Urus.

Though he had to grit his teeth, Ran Yen greeted the Dug amicably and offered him a seat of rare privilege near the center of the booth and the holo-screen. The Dug king had made himself quite comfortable and was helping himself to the accommodations, clearly noticing and relishing in Ran Yen's repressed anger and disgust.

"So, my lord Doge," Ran Yen started. "Any prospects on who you believe will win?"

"Sebulba," Nakha answered immediately, sipping his favorite wine. "As if there was any doubt."

"Indeed," Ran Yen agreed, smiling lightly. "Well, I'm betting on our very own Mawhonic."

"Ha! Indeed," Nakha sneered, preening his mustache. "But the odds are quite clearly stacked against him. He has never once beaten Sebulba and I know he's not about to now."

'Perfect!' "Care to make a wager on that?" Ran Yen had to exercise quite a bit of self-control to keep from sneering in triumph when he saw that he'd quickly caught the Dug's attention.

"What would the stakes be?" Nakha asked, curious. He knew that gambling was a risky business, but sometimes the profits were worth the risk.

"I know how much you and your people covet the positions of power the Protectorate possess on this world and the Republic as a whole," Ran Yen said, baiting the line carefully. "I will wager my very own position as Governor of Malastare, and even throw in our esteemed Senator's place."

Nakha tried and failed to not gawk in astonishment. Ran Yen was practically offering up leadership and representation rights of Malastare, on a simple Podrace bet! This was almost too good to be true! Then his practical and rational side kicked in with a vengeance. If it was too good to be true, then it probably was. "And what do you desire in return if, by some miracle, Sebulba loses?"

"Rights and ownership to the fuel industry," Ran Yen said with practiced ease, trying to pretend that this was simply a decision made on a whim. "Quite a trade, don't you think: Governor and Senator of Malastare for the fuel industry?"

Nakha Urus looked like he was ready to explode in a rage. This bet was almost too dangerous to risk! Sure, if he won, he'd finally have control of the planet and could start repairing the damage that the Grans had been doing since their hostile takeover more than a millennium ago. But the risk was losing the Dugs' fuel industry, the last shred of hope and claim the Dugs had left of Malastare which they protected religiously!

Incidentally, Nakha Urus wasn't able to make his decision at that time. If he had, he probably would've backed down, judging the risks as too high. But, as it were, a small montraled head popped up next to the holo-screen that the Dug and Gran were seated beside, startling both leaders from the abruptness from which it had appeared. After a moment of calming their racing hearts, they took in their little visitor. It was an orange-skinned Togruta youngling, wearing a very stately dress of light greens and blues, and wearing an exotic golden headdress.

Noticing that she'd gotten their attentions, the youngling smiled widely. "Hi! Can I play too? I wanna play too!"

"Now, now, Your Highness," a calm voice spoke up from behind the girl, drawing the pair's attention. Both of them recoiled in surprise at seeing a full-fledged Jedi Master standing behind the Togruta. "We really shouldn't trouble these gentlemen. They are—"

But the Togruta royal was ignoring the Jedi as she seized hold of the holo-screen and was cycling through the various racers before abruptly stopping and choosing one. Interrupting the Jedi Master, she said, "I bet he's gonna win!"

Finally snapping from their surprise, Nakha and Ran Yen both reacted by standing to their feet and turning to greet their unexpected visitors. "Master Jedi, to what do we owe the surprise?" Ran Yen asked, trying to keep his sudden slight unease out of his voice.

"Greetings, I'm Master Qui-gon Jinn," the Jedi said, bowing slightly to them. "I was returning to the Temple with Princess Ahsoka, but we heard of the big race and she wanted to come see it before she got started on her Jedi training."

"Is that so?" Nakha said, looking closer at the youngling. She was most certainly carrying herself as royalty, acting so forward and carefree around adult strangers, as if she was used to bossing them around. And he could definitely understand her desire to watch a Podrace in person. What little he knew of Jedi training suggested that they didn't get much free time until they became Padawans under a Master or Knight. Plus, he had to secretly admit to himself, he had a slight soft spot for younglings.

Looking up at the racer that she'd chosen as her champion, Nakha couldn't prevent the raise of his brow. It was a human boy, not even into his teen years, and very small of stature. The stats on his racer seemed…irregular. Like the engines had been amped up for increased power and speed, but sacrificed fuel efficiency. Not to mention that the image of the podracer showed a rusted and dented piece of junk that looked as though it'd been salvaged from a junkyard and slapped together to form a podracer. And the stats of the pilot were just as irregular. He was listed as having raced in over fifty different tracks, mostly on Tatooine, but had only won three. As far as a human was concerned, the fact that he was still alive after just five races was impressive, never mind his horrendous track record.

"Why do you want this one, princess?" Nakha asked kindly to the Togruta. "He's only won three races. The chances of him winning this one are…" He glanced quickly at the estimated odds. "fifty to one. Maybe you should choose a different racer."

The little princess shook her head forcefully. "He'll win! I know it!" she said with the utmost confidence and determination of a child, smiling broadly up at the Dug the whole time. Then, she turned and plugged in a credit disk and quickly typed in a number. '2,564 credits for Anakin Skywalker winning.'

"Is this really wise, Master Jedi?" Ran Yen asked, his unease increasing the longer the Jedi remained present. This was unplanned and unexpected! What was a Jedi doing here?! "She's too young to gamble! Isn't there some code or rule that says she can't?"

"Technically, she's still not a Jedi youngling," Qui-gon pointed out calmly. "And as royalty, she can gamble as she wishes and I have no say in her actions…for right now." Turning a slightly scrutinizing gaze upon the Gran, he asked, "Why are you so nervous, Governor?"

Ran Yen just snorted slightly as he turned back to the Dug. "So, Doge Urus, do we have a bet?"

Blinking for a moment, Nakha looked suspiciously over at his companion as he again weighed the pros and cons of the gamble. But, unlike earlier, he was suddenly feeling a lot calmer. Whereas Ran Yen was starting to sweat out of anxiety at the Jedi's presence, Nakha found himself growing confident. "Yes, we do." Turning around to the holo-screen, he entered in his own bet and pressed the accept button. With a slight hesitation, Ran Yen copied him.

And so, the bet for the Dugs' fuel industry, the Gran's Governor and Senatorial positions, and 'Princess' Ahsoka's 2,500 credits was officially recorded and sealed.


Port Pixelito

In the center of the city, the crowds were beginning to thin as the population gravitated in increasing numbers toward the Podracer arena at the edge of the spaceport. Most of the shops and stalls were already closed, and the rest were in the process of doing so. Owners and vendors were completing sales and glancing anxiously in the direction of the traffic's steady flow.

Amid the confusion and bustle, three Sith probe droids slowly floated along, mechanical eyes traveling from shop to shop, from face to face, searching.


Race Track

Over a hundred thousand beings had filled the Podracer arena by midmorning, jamming into the grandstand seats, crowding onto the broad viewing platforms, filling the available space. The arena became a vast sea of color, movement, and sound in the emptiness of the barren lands surrounding the city. Flags and banners bearing the insignia of the racers and their sponsors waved over the assemblage, signifying favorites and creating impromptu cheering sections. Bands played in the support of some racers, and isolated horns and drums beat in wild appreciation for all. Vendors walked the aisles, carrying food and drink from canopied stands below to sell to the crowd. Everywhere, excitement and anticipation was building.

Then a roar erupted as the racers began to emerge from the main hangar on the far side of the start line. One by one the Podracers hove into view, some towed by lumbering creatures, some by hand, some by repulsorsled, all part of a long procession of pilots, pit crews, and hangers-on. Standard bears, each carrying a flag that identified the pilot and sponsor, marched along, forming a colorful line in front of the assembly of Podracers. Overhead, the sun of Malastare shone down with a bright, hungry glare that was peeking out around gathering storm clouds.

As the racers moved onto the track in front of the arena stands, a flurry of movement in the King's Box signaled the arrival of Ran Yen and Nakha Urus. Moving into view of the stands below them, Nakha having to stand upon an elevated platform to be visible, the pair of them waved down at the peoples. Ran Yen stood in his place of prominence, directly in the midst of the arched overlook where could be seen the easiest. Lifting his arm in greeting, the Gran Governor basked in the crowd's appreciative roar. Nakha scowled discreetly at the Gran, but did his level best to ignore the Governor.

Below, the Podracer pilots formed a line facing the King's Box and on command bowed deeply in recognition of and to pay homage to their benefactors. As this was happening, the crowd roared some more, arms and flags waving madly. Horns sounded as Ran Yen began his introduction of the racers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it is with great pleasure that I introduce our star pilots of the newly sanctioned race of Sebulba's Legacy!" Ran Yen called over the intercom, earning roars of approval and anticipation. "Here at special request to race is Pixelito's very own, Sebulba!"

The Dug, standing at the head of the line, rose on his back legs and waved to the stands, positively eating up the attention with delicious relish. A band played wildly in support, and Sebulba's fan and anxious bettors depending on the odds that favored the Dug cheered and shouted in response.

One by one, Ran Yen recognized the Podracer pilots. Gasgano, Boles Roor, Ben Quadinaros, Aldar Beedo, Ody Mandrell, and Xelbree, to name a few. Anakin listened to the names, shifting anxiously, eager to begin. A glance over his shoulder revealed Obi-wan and Padme, dressed as simple pit mechanics, attaching his refurbished engines to the Pod with the Steelton cables, checking the fastenings with sharp tugs.

"Mawhonic of Hok!" Ran Yen's voice penetrated his distraction, causing Anakin to glance over at the Gran racer. He couldn't help but wonder if Mawhonic was even aware of the plot against Sebulba and the Dugs. 'Either way, it doesn't really matter,' Anakin decided.

"Anakin Skywalker of Tatooine!" Applause burst from the crowd, though it was not as enthusiastic as it had been for Sebulba or even Mawhonic. Anakin just waved in response, eyes traveling over the thousands gathered, his mind already out on the track.

When he returned to the walk to his racer, Anakin found Jar Jar waiting for him. The Gungan patted the boy on the back, his billed face a mask of worry and consternation. "Tis very loony, Annie. May da Guds be kind, me friend."

Padme appeared and bent down to kiss Anakin's cheek. Her dark eyes were intense. "You carry all the hopes of Dugs," she said quietly. "Please don't do anything too reckless out there."

Anakin's lower lip jutted out in a slight pout. "But then it wouldn't be as fun." At the handmaiden's stern gaze, he bowed his head ever-so-slightly in submission as he solemnly said, "I won't let them down." She gave him a long stare, and then moved away. As she did so, Sebulba sidled up to him, his wizened, whiskery face angling close.

"Well, well," the Dug drawled out conceitedly in Huttesse. "If it isn't the little slave boy from Tatooine. Did you miss getting beaten by me so much that you came back to lose against me again?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, asswipe," Anakin answered in the same language, turning from where he was carefully inspecting the fuel lines of pod engines to glare at the all-too-familiar Dug racer. "This race hasn't even begun yet."

"Maybe," Selbulba conceded, sneering knowingly. "But this time, you're not going to walk away, slave scum! This is my track, my race, my world! And after today, you won't even be memory."

"Don't count it, slime face," Anakin said, his glare deepening as he realized what the Dug was hinting at. "I'll see you at the finish line."

Selbulba didn't even bother to reply, merely chuckling conceitedly as he turned and walked back over to his own racer. After watching the Dug waddle away, Anakin quickly set his tools aside and walked over to inspect his pod engines again. After only a few moments of checking, he was unsurprised to find a several minor components of the engine hanging loose or entirely detached. Cussing quietly to himself, he quickly fixed the attempted sabotage.

"Anakin, calm down," Obi-wan Kenobi said as the boy walked over to the pod cockpit, sensing his considerable anger with ease. The boy wore his feelings out on his sleeve, making it very easy to determine his mood and for him to subtly influence the surrounding Force. "It takes a clear head to win any competition. Calm down, stay focused, and win cleanly."

"Yes sir," Anakin said. After a few moments his anger had waned with considerable effort, but it was still very much present. Glancing up towards the fancy first-class booth that had multiple advertising streamers and displays hanging from it, Anakin tried to futilely spot Ahsoka and Qui-gon up there. "I hope they can at least enjoy this, cause I can already tell this race is gonna be a pain in the ass."

As horns blared and a new roar rose from the crowd, the Jedi helped Anakin climb into his Pod. The roar of the crowd began to build even further as the minutes to countdown started growing increasing shorter. Anakin quickly settled himself in place in the seat, securing his safety harness, fitting his old battered racing helmet over his head and bringing down the goggles.

"Are you all set, Ani?" the Jedi Padawan asked. The boy nodded, eyes intense, steady. Obi-wan held his gaze as he looked down upon the boy for a moment before reaching forward and patting Anakin's shoulder reassuringly. "Stay calm out there, Ani. Remember, concentrate on the moment. Feel, don't think. Trust your instincts."

Anakin nodded, understanding what the Padawan was trying to say. "It won't be the first time. I'll win for sure."

Obi-wan smiled slightly at the boy's unwavering self-confidence. "May the Force be with you, Anakin."

Moving quickly through the crowd to the viewing platform where Jar Jar, Padme, and R2 were waiting, Obi-wan glanced back only once at Anakin and found the boy calmly fitting his goggles back into place. The young Jedi nodded to himself. The boy would do alright. He mounted the viewing platform with the others just as it began to ascend into position for the race.

Padme shook her head doubtfully. "You Jedi are far too reckless," she said quietly. "The Queen—"

"The Queen has faith in our plan and young Skywalker," Obi-wan interrupted smoothly, closely watching her. "Perhaps you should try to have some too."

"You assume too much," she glared back at him.

The viewing platform locked into place, and all eyes turned toward the racers. Energy binders were engaged, powerful electro-magnetic currents arcing between coaxial plates, locking the twin engines of each Pod together as a single unit. The engines themselves began to turn over, their booming coughs and rumbles mingling with and then overwhelming the roar of the crowd. Flag bearers and pit crews moved hastily aside, clearing the start line beneath the arch that marked the beginning and end of the race. Overhead, a red light held the racers in place. Anticipating the green, the pilots gunned their engines, the massive casings shaking with the force of the power they generated, the cables that bound them to the Pods and their drivers straining to break free.

Standing next to Obi-wan, Jar Jar Binks covered his eyes in dismay. "Me no watch. Dis gonna be messy!"

Though he could not bring himself to say so, the Jedi Padawan was inclined to agree. Steady, Anakin Skywalker, he thought to himself. Concentrate.

Then the light over the starting line flashed bright green, and the race was underway.


When the starting light turned green, Anakin jammed the twin thruster bars to the extreme forward position, sending maximum power to the engines. The big rocket engines bucked and roared like a caged beast as the Pod leapt forward with a powerful jolt. Thanks to the heightened acceleration he'd modified the engines to have, Anakin easily passed by more than half of the slower starting racers. Ahead of him, he counted no less than five others who'd managed to gun their engines into powerful accelerations as well. He easily recognized Sebulba, Mawhonic, and Quadinaros due to their Pods' distinctive designs.

The first set of rock formations rose up against the horizon. Anakin could see the other Podracers now, bright metal shapes whipping across the flats, engines throwing out fire and smoke. He closed in on them quickly, his engines screaming. In an open stretch, he knew that there were no others that could match his own thanks to his modifications. A flush of white-hot excitement burned through him as he caught up with the lead group.

He haled back on the thruster bars, as he came up on them giving himself space to maneuver. He went by two as if they were standing still, angling his way left and then right, threading through the needle of space they had left between them. When he was clear, he fed power to the engines anew, and the g-force slammed him back against the padded seat. He caught multi-limbed Gasgano next. Easing up to the Troiken's snub-nosed Podracer, he got ready to pass.

The large, rugged forest loomed ahead, and he wanted to be clear of the others when he navigated through the trees. Maneuvering cautiously, he prepared to overtake on the right. But Gasgano saw him and quickly moved to cut him off. Anakin waited, then angled left for another try. Again, Gasgano cut him off. Back and forth they slid above the rocky ground, Anakin constantly trying to slip by and getting cut off by Gasgano each time.

A cliff drop into a low river appeared as a ragged line in the trees on the horizon. Anakin slowed, giving Gasgano the impression he was preparing for a drop shift. The wiry pilot, glancing back quickly to make certain where the boy was, held his position until he reached the land's edge over the river, then took the drop first. The moment he did so, Anakin jammed the thruster bars all the way forward, and his racer accelerated with such speed that it rocketed right over the top of Gasgano before the other could do anything to prevent it.

The dark crease of a small river canyon loomed ahead, and Anakin threaded the eye of its needle opening with a seamstress's skill, racing into the cool shadows beyond. The engines hummed anxiously, the energy binders keeping them in sync, the cables drawing on the racing Pod with just the right amount of give through the wicked turns. Anakin worked the thrusters with small, precise movements, envisioning the course in his mind. With the feather touch of the Force to help guide him, each twist, each deviation, each rise and drop, everything was clear and certain to him. Everything was revealed as he followed the river's path through the forest, like a canyon on Tatooine.

Dodging around a particular large jutting river rock, he shot out of the river canyon and back out onto the open country. Ahead, beyond several others, Mawhonic and Sebulba fought for the lead. The Dug's distinctive split-X engines lifted and rose, maneuvering for position. But Mawhonic's slender racer was slowly gliding away. Then Sebulba accelerated and swung violently left, careening toward the other pilot. Mawhonic reacted instinctively, swinging left as well. As the two were duking it out, Xelbree tried to slip past the Dug on the other side. Unfortunately, Sebulba noticed Xelbree's presence and rose to block his passage. Xelbree slid left, drawing alongside, holding fast. Sebulba seemed to lose ground, to give way slightly, especially when Mawhonic tried to capitalize on the advantage and slammed into the Dug's racer. Then the Dug triggered his side vents in his engines exhaust.

Fire spewed laterally into Xelbree's engine, cutting apart the metal housing as if it were made of flimsiplast. Xelbree tried to frantically move away, but he was too slow. Fuel caught and ignited, the damaged engine exploded, spewing debris everywhere behind them as the remaining engine and its Pod flew off to the side and shattered against the rocky grounds. Anakin and the three racers ahead of him had to frantically dodge around the engine debris to prevent any fragments from entering their own and damaging them.

However, Mawhonic was much more accustomed to the Dug's dirty tricks. He had seen the side vents opening and reacted a fraction of a second sooner. He had pulled his Pod away enough that the rampaging fires only mildly burned and darkened his engine's plating. Nevertheless, with Xelbree's destruction and Mawhonic's retreat, Sebulba pulled ahead and took the lead firmly.

That was when Anakin sensed danger. Though he was still a fair distance away from the Dug, he could easily see the unnatural fiery oranges and reds that were spreading through the split-X engines. Fire and smoke began bursting out of cracks in the armor, particularly around where the side vents were hidden. A second later, the energy binders abruptly died and the two flaming engines shot off in different directions. In a way, it was actually quite fortunate for Mawhonic that he had fallen behind the Dug since one of the flaming engines would've otherwise knocked his own Pod reeling. As the engines shot apart, the Pod itself was wrenched to pieces as the cables gave way. Once free, the Pod crashed spectacularly into the rocky ground, spinning and careening wildly until it smashed into a group of trees.

Anakin didn't have time to see if Sebulba had survived the crash since they were already drawing up to their first lap.


King's Box

In the arena stands and viewing platforms scattered throughout the course, the crowd watched the progress of the race on handheld viewscreens as pictures of the racers were transmitted from droid observation holocams. From a monitoring tower, a two-headed announcer who bantered incessantly with himself reported on the leaders. Qui-gon studied a screen with Ahsoka, but there was neither mention nor sight of Anakin. The announcer's twin voices rose and fell in measured cadence, filling the air with their inflection, building in pitch to stir the already frenzied crowd.

Qui-gon turned and stared off towards the rocky plains surrounding the city. Even without viewscreen, he knew where Anakin was. The boy was drawing deeply into the Force as he piloted the dangerous terrain of the race, his exhilaration for the race and anger towards his cheating competitors caused a maelstrom of Force energies to swirl around him, marking him almost like a lighthouse in the Force.

"Master, where's my racer?" Ahsoka asked, leaning out slightly over the edge of the balcony as she tried to futilely spot Anakin in the distance.

"Have some patience, Your Majesty," Qui-gon said in his practiced teacher voice. "He'll be here shortly, I can sense it."

"I'm not signing the rights just yet!" a loud, angry voice yelled, drawing Qui-gon and Princess Ahsoka's attentions back into the booth. Nakha and Ran Yen were apparently already arguing over their 'little bet' since Sebulba's Podracer had already been taken out of the race.

From what little could be seen of what happened, Qui-gon had surmised that the Dug's engines had been warped and melted from the inside when the Dug had used his side vents to blast his fellow racers and fire. If Qui-gon hadn't already known from Anakin that the Dug quite frequently used and maintained those vents, even he would've been fooled into thinking it was just bad luck and faulty parts giving way. But now he understood that this was indeed a blatant act of disguised sabotage.

"What's the point of delaying?" Ran Yen asked, a full blown sneer on his face. "Your champion is already out and mine is not."

"He has yet to win the race!" Nakha snapped.

"Gentlemen," Qui-gon interrupted smoothly. "Let's keep this civil. And, Ran Yen, Doge Urus is correct. The race is not yet over and I do believe the terms of the bet was if Mawhonic would win the race."

"Thank you, Master Jinn," Nakha said, using considerable self-control to rein in his temper.

"Look! Look!" Ahsoka suddenly called out excitedly. "Here they come! Yeah, go Skyguy! Kick those cocksuckers where the sun don't shine!"

The little Togruta Princess's exclamation caught quite a few glances from the other officials in the box. Despite himself, Qui-gon just rubbed his temples in aggravation as several Podracers roared through the stands as they began their second lap. 'It would seem Anakin's potty mouth has also rubbed off on her.'


At the beginning of the second lap, Anakin was in third place, behind only Mawhonic and Quadinaros. As the race progressed, he was slowly disappearing back into the workings of his racer. He became one with its engines, feeling the strain and tug on each rivet and screw. Wind whipped by him in a screaming rush, locking him away in its white noise. There was only him and the machine, all speed and response. It was the way racing affected him, melding his body with the Pod and engines until he was a part of both. Moment by moment, the symbiosis deepened, joining them, giving him insights and understandings that transcended his senses and knowledge, projecting him past the present and into a place others could not reach.

Approaching the forest again, he could feel a pair of racers bearing down on him from behind. Skimming the ground, Aldar Beedo and Boles Roor whipped past him on the left. On his other side, Ody Mandrell banked too hard over a sandy rise and caught his engine in the sand. Ody's racer cartwheeled in a spectacular twisting of engines and Pod, exploding apart shortly thereafter. As that happened, Anakin was faced with his own problems.

The racers whipped through the forest and out into the river in a ragged line, with Anakin narrowing the gap between himself and Aldar Beedo. Then, ahead of both of them, Boles Roor got clipped by a low-hanging tree limb. The distraction caused him to veer to the side, crashing into another tree where his engines shredded the tree and exploded in a fiery inferno. Anakin flew through the vaporized wreckage in pursuit of the others. A large piece of shrapnel of the former Pod snagged the Steelton line on Anakin's right engine and released the binding.

Instantly Anakin's Pod began to swing violently at the end of its single remaining line, whipsawing back and forth. The engines continued to act in concert, locked together by the energy binders, but the racer was out of control. Anakin worked the stabilizer pedals with his feet, fighting to hold the Pod steady as it swung like a pendulum. The unhooked line snapped viciously in the wake of the engine's exhaust, threatening to tangle and snag on an outcropping and drag the racer down. Anakin groped along the floor of his cockpit, searching for the magnetic retriever.

When he found it, he flicked on the power button and extended the retriever out to the right side, trying to make contact with the loose line. The effort forced him to pull back on the thruster bars to cut power, and he fell behind several racers. Elan Mak, Habba Kee, and now Obitoki swept by him easily. Anakin glanced frantically over his shoulder. The bulk of the pack was closing on him.

After a dozen tries, he finally focused his concentration sufficiently to snag the loose engine line with the retriever and maneuver it back to it hook. Sweat and grit coated his face, and his jacket sleeve was ripped. Casting down the retriever, he jammed the thruster bars forward once more. Stabilized at the ends of the Steelton lines, the Pod held steady now as the engines bucked, and the racer accelerated after the leaders once again.

Anakin caught Elan Mak and slid around him easily. He was closing on Habba Kee when Obitoki tried to pass Quadinaros. But Quadinaros had no issues with using his much larger and heavier engines to smash Obitoki to the side. Obitoki's engines were forced under Quadinaros's, causing the entire racer to dive nose first into the river below them, sending a spray of water and steam everywhere as the engines were smothered and shorted out. Needless to say, Obitoki's engines came to an abrupt halt and the Pod itself was yanked up into the air and slammed upside-down into the river quite violently.

Momentarily blinded by the water spray, Habba Kee unintentionally flew into one of Obitoki's engines that hadn't been fully submerged. Engines and Pod tangled and crashed in a wild explosion. Anakin followed Habba Kee into the spray, blinded as well. A piece of steaming metal flew at him out of the haze, careening off his right engine housing and barely missing his head. But the boy was seeing with more than his eyes, sensing with his mind, calm and steady within himself. He could feel the danger waiting and he worked the thruster bars smoothly, sliding past the wreckage.

Then he was in the clear again and bearing down on Mawhonic and Quadinaros. He caught the pair as they screamed past the arena and under the finish arch for the start of the third and final lap.

In his mind, he could see Qui-gon up in the King's Box having to forcefull hold Ahsoka back as she was leaning too far forward in her wild cheering of him. R2 in the crew pits beeping encouragingly. Obi-wan having a look of solemn indifference, Padme's beautiful face framed with worry, and Jar Jar wide-eyed and open-mouth in over-eager excitement. He could see them all, as if he were standing among them, standing outside himself, watching the race…

He blocked their faces away, banished the images from his thoughts, and focused everything on his last two rivals ahead of him.

They were speeding out towards the forest again when Mawhonic decided he was sick of the frail human boy constantly tailing him. As Anakin was trying to pass him on his left side, opposite of Quadinaros, Mawhonic instantly swung slightly over to knock Anakin's engines off course. But Anakin was more than prepared for such tricks. He lifted the nose of his craft skyward, jammed the thruster bars forward, and accelerated. The engines boomed, his racer gave a frightening lurch, and he leapfrogged right over Mawhonic to take the lead into the forest.

Upon reaching the river, Anakin gunned the engines to speeds that almost sacrificed his maneuverability too much. He weaved down the river, swerving around the corners and turns of its natural flow. And finally, after what felt like hours to his hyper-awareness, he burst into the clear once again. Again Mawhonic tried to regain the lead with Quadinaros mere seconds behind him, pushing for an opening, but Anakin held him off.

Down the flat, open final stretch of the course, the Podracers tore, one after another, as the arena stands and warding statuary began to take shape ahead. Mawhonic was screaming in frustration as every move he made to try and pass the human was countered before it even began. Quadinaros was in a similar situation. Despite the vast open space of the final stretch, the quickest route to the finish line was a straight line, upon which the young Skywalker was dancing as he expertly cut off Mawhonic and by extension Quadinaros. Hanging on to maintain control as he crossed the finish line, he became, at nine years of age, the first and youngest winner of Sebulba's Legacy race.


King's Box

From his place up in the King's Box, Qui-gon watched the crowd surge toward Anakin's racer. The boy had brought the Pod to a skidding halt in the center of the raceway, shut down the engines, and climbed out. Even amongst the wild crowd, he could see the familiar shine of the white and blue R2 unit pulling up next to the boy to congratulate him as well. When the crowd converged moments later, they hoisted Anakin aloft and carried him away, chanting and shouting his name. Qui-gon exchanged a warm smile with the excited but knowing grin of Ahsoka, nodding his approval of the boy's performance. Anakin Skywalker was special indeed.

Turning around, he found a rather curious sight before him. Ran Yen and Nakha Urus were staring out at the chanting crowd, hovering at the edge of the balcony, looks of disbelief on their faces. After a few moments, Ahsoka popped up next to them, smiling widely. "See! I told you the Skyguy was gonna win!"

The moment he caught sight of Princess Ahsoka, Ran Yen's disbelief transformed into something akin to fear. Turning back to the betting holo-screen, the Gran Governor stared in horror at what he saw. Because of the simple fact that the little Togruta princess had entered her own bet onto their very same table, coincidentally choosing the winner, that meant that he had actually lost. He had first allowed the princess to place her bet because the Jedi Master's presence had intimidated him and he had honestly thought that her champion didn't stand a chance of winning. But then he finally remembered a special ability that Jedi were known to possess.

Spinning around to face the Jedi Master, the Gran pointed accusingly at him as he shook in rage. "You! You swindled me! You knew the boy was going to win! You used your Force tricks to see the future!" All his work of sabotaging Sebulba's infamous side vents, paying off his mechanics, setting up the race, organizing this conspiracy agreement with the Trade Federation and Sullustan refineries. All of it had been for naught!

Qui-gon just smiled benignly. "I'm afraid that foresight of that type is not within my abilities, Governor. And it wasn't me who placed the bet on young Skywalker down there. That would be Princess Ahsoka." Turning to slightly face Nakha and Ahsoka who were also watching the raging Gran, Qui-gon continued, "I believe by the terms of the bet, that would make Princess Ahsoka here the winner. What did she win exactly anyway?"

"The Governorship and Senate seat of Malastare and ownership of the Dug fuel industry," Nakha answered in a somewhat dumbfounded voice. He really wanted to be angry, at Ran Yen for pushing the stakes on him, at Ahsoka for winning the bet, at himself for even daring to bet the Dugs' lifeline in the first place. But in the end, one look at the youngling next to him showed that she had absolutely no idea what he was really talking about, not understanding just what kind of power she now held over all of Malastare.

"Eh?" Princess Ahsoka said, cocking her head slightly to the side. "But I don't want any of that stuff! All I want is my money!" With that said, she turned and plugged in her credit disk and deposited her winnings of 128 thousand credits. Taking out another disk, she added her other 'winnings' to it before turning and holding it out to Nakha. Nakha just stared at the disk that the youngling was holding out towards him in confusion. Looking up at her smiling face in askance, she answered his unasked question, "I like you! You can have this stuff. I just wanted the money."

"She can't do that!" Ran Yen snapped immediately, trying to grab the disk from her little hand. But Qui-gon caught his arm in a tight grip as Nakha instantly snatched up the disk protectively. "She cheated! This race was rigged!"

"Perhaps you'd like to discuss this with the Senate, Governor?" Qui-gon asked, gazing sternly at the Gran's three eyes. "I'm sure they'd be very interested to hear about betting on a rigged race." The stern and knowing expression in the Jedi's face, the slightly warning tone of his voice, and the subtle verbal jab was lost on neither Ran Yen nor Nakha. In that instant, Ran Yen realized that the Jedi Master had known about his plot all along and Nakha realized that something was amiss as he cradled his 'winnings' much more protectively.

After a moment of forcefully calming himself down and yanking his arm from the Jedi's grasp, Ran Yen straightened himself and said, "No need for that, Master Jedi." Turning to Nakha, he grated out, "Congratulations on your good fortunes, Governor Urus."

"It was a pleasure, I assure," Nakha answered hauntingly as he glared suspiciously at the Gran.

Turning to Ahsoka, Qui-gon beckoned her over. "Come on, Princess Ahsoka. We really must get on our way."

"Okay, Master," Ahsoka whined out in a slightly resigned voice.

As the pair were walking out of the King's Box, neither of them noticed the subtle, furious glance that the former Governor shot towards, vowing vengeance.


(Author's Note) I'm so sorry about the long wait. Not only did the holidays sap my energy and enthusiasm, but a very bad lingering cold hit me. Then there was having to deal with a departing roommate who felt the need to constantly throw 'going away' beer parties left and right. And worrying about paying bills and Christmas presents. Ugh, it was awful. Suffice to say, I hope this chapter came out alright. It's largely unbeta-read, so if there's any errors or inconsistencies, that's why.

Have a Happy Holidays!