Chapter Fourteen:
Luke lay in the semi dark of his small tent, which was blessedly separate from Garris' upon the plains of Dantooine. It had been five weeks total since Luke had begun his intense training as a racing pilot. He had flown just about every conceivable racing vehicle the man knew of, from speederbikes to pod racers. And to his mixed feelings, Luke had even been asked to try a few lesser-known things such as primitive contraptions and living animals.
Luke wasn't all that keen on the animals, as there was an added risk factor since those creatures could be unpredictable. And truthfully, Luke had little experience with riding animals, so he wasn't entirely comfortable with it. But he really had little choice in the matter: if Garris said Luke would race an animal, then Luke would race an animal.
Or Han and Dewlanna would suffer.
Luke hadn't been permitted to contact Han or Dewlanna the entire time he had been away, and he missed them terribly. But Garris had promised that if Luke did well in his first race, he would allow a call to Luke's best friend and mother-figure.
So now here they were on Dantooine, the morning of Luke's entrance into the world of racing. Garris had informed Luke that he would be introduced as a mysterious figure called Smalls; a herald to Luke's stature.
His face would be concealed by a full-facial helmet anytime he was out in public for the events. Any and all publicity moments would be with it on also. Questions about 'Smalls' would be answered by Garris and Dessh, depending on who was with him at the time. Luke was to remain mute unless his handlers said otherwise.
Luke didn't like that, but what could he do? And as he really thought it over, maybe this secrecy was a good thing. Surely if Luke became a celebrity his racing name and information— including holos and such— would be shared all over the galaxy. And that meant Vader would see at some point. And if he could see Luke's face, then he would identify him.
But would that mean he could track Luke without the helmet then? Would he see Luke's ability and become curious, and if so, would it grow until he acted? The thought terrified the youth so much that he tossed and turned until he had to get up. What if Vader did track Luke via the races? Luke's heart leapt about in fear of the black-armored giant. He didn't want to find himself in the clutches of the galaxy's second-most feared man.
He had heard countless tales of the Sith Lord's cruelty... his bad temper... his ability to do things no other mortal could, like choke people without touching them. Luke's hands leapt to his throat as if the man's invisible grasp was there, and he had to work hard to control his breathing.
Luke had purposefully placed himself with Garris so he could disappear, and never have Vader find him. He was the one man Luke truly feared above all others, even more-so than Garris.
The thought of Garris brought Luke around to another conclusion. Garris was selfish to a fault, and wanted Luke all to himself to earn the man as much money as possible. There was no way the guy would make his and Luke's schedule predictable and traceable. He didn't want people to have any chance of stealing his prize away.
Or at least Luke hoped that was the case. Would Garris allow any level of publicity? And if so, how much? Would he get carried away in the fame that might come his way and get careless?
Garris had already made a big deal about his new upstart racer, and Luke's helmeted image was popping up in many underground markets and cantinas where racing was a thing.
Luke groaned and with an effort gave up fretting. He needed to focus on the race, not on a possibility that Vader would catch up to Luke at last. He thought he could count on Garris' tendency towards hoarding things for himself to help Luke avoid Vader. But still, Luke fretted over whether or not his skill would draw unwanted attention.
Not that Luke was flaunting his abilities, but he knew he had talent. He also had the feeling his prowess behind the wheel would do more harm than good. But here Luke found himself in a jam: race the way he knew he could and protect his family, or purposely hide his true talent and avoid Vader's attention?
Luke desperately wanted the latter option, but he could never save himself with the knowledge that it would bring pain and suffering to Han and Dewlanna. Luke was willing to sacrifice himself for his brother and mother-figure.
With that determination settled into his soul, Luke accepted the possibilities ahead of him and let go of his immediate fear. He could not control everything, and he would not live in terror of what might happen. If it did happen, he would go from there. Besides, fear would not help him win anything, let alone races. With a world-weary sigh, Luke returned to his cot and slipped into a dreamless sleep.
The next day found him in a small cave with Garris and Dessh. The latter was making some last-minute checks and adjustments before the race began while Garris spoke to his pilot.
"Now, I know this is your first race, so I will be somewhat lenient," he was saying, "however, I have seen your training record, and I know you will do just fine."
Translation: 'don't let me down' Luke knew, and he tried to ignore the weight settling onto his chest.
"I'll do my best."
Garris nodded once and handed a datapad to Luke. "While you wait, study the track a bit more: I want you to be familiar with the route."
"Yes sir," Luke murmured, accepting the device and sitting on a crate.
They were apart from the rest of the racers so Luke could make his debut in a big way—that was Garris' wish. Personally, Luke would have preferred no attention save to be announced as a newcomer and let things be after that. But Garris was staking a lot on his new venture, Luke understood.
Luke glanced over the datapad to the modified helmet. It was still the one Dessh had given him the first day of training, except that there was a full-face shield that was made of one-way transparisteel. This meant that Luke could see from inside his helmet, but no one could see into it from the other side. This would provide exactly what Garris wanted: mystery.
Luke sighed softly and gazed upon the information available on the race course he would be flying today. It would start in the hills in which they were currently sitting, and would take them across the open plains until they reached a thicket of trees, where they would have to maneuver through the boughs while also angling west to reach the next leg of the race. Once out of the vegetation, the racers would move across more plains to a ravine that was only wide enough for one swoop bike. The ravine was mostly straight until the last mile, which curved here and there until the mouth appeared out of nowhere, spilling them out into an area few ventured.
Dantooine may be beautiful, but it housed a few nasty surprises for the unwise traveler. Such as the tar pits the race would cross. Luke shuddered to think of falling off his swoop and getting stuck there. Would Garris come for him, or be so disgusted he would leave Luke to a slow, but certain death?
Luke would rather not find out.
After the tar pits the race would circle back towards the hills, though the plains terrain would change without warning so the group would probably split up so pass around the various hills. But so long as they made it back to the starting point, all would be well.
The chosen vehicle for this race was a swoop bike. It was not the speederbike Luke had stolen, because that would have been a giveaway, and Garris didn't want anything like that traced back to him.
No, it was one Dessh had paid good money for and upgraded so it ran as smoothly as an Alderaanian thranta in the sky. Luke had ridden it a few times in training for this particular race and he was pleased with how it responded to him, so he knew the bike would perform beautifully today.
Luke's musings and study were interrupted by the sound of a horn being played outside. Garris clapped eager hands together and waved Luke forward.
Luke took a deep breath and stood, accepting his helmet and donning it before he followed Garris to the entrance of their cave. Dessh followed with the bike, which he proceeded to place in Luke's assigned starting position. Luke saw other racing aids doing likewise with their vehicles. Next to the other bikes which had custom paint jobs to no-doubt match the personality of their pilots, Luke's swoop looked rather... dull. But Garris had wanted to wait until Luke had shown he could earn his keep before customizing any of his racers.
Luke let his eyes roam the area, taking in the portable grandstands and recording droids that would broadcast the entire race to the multitude of fans. Luke wondered if there were droids stationed all along the route or if there were some that would shadow the racers. He supposed it didn't really matter.
Will Han and Dewlanna be watching me race? Luke thought.
"Now, the purse for winning is seven-hundred credits." Garris turned to Luke, and somehow found the youth's eyes despite the opaque visor. "That is a good sum of money, so if you win, we can see about personalizing your stuff."
Luke nodded, feeling excitement swell at the chance to do that. He already had some designs in mind!
"Focus, Smalls," Garris was saying, and Luke dutifully ceased his daydreaming. "Good Lad. Now, we just have to wait for your name to be announced. It will be last since you are new."
Luke didn't get to answer because the announcer came on then, welcoming everyone in a grandiose manner. No doubt the man speaking was used to getting crowds excited for an event, because he was doing a rather fine job if it. The people in the stands cheered and whistled, the noise gratefully muffled somewhat by Luke's helmet.
Dessh appeared and spoke to Garris, who frowned. He nodded, turned to Luke and motioned for the boy to stay put, and then disappeared towards the announcer's box.
After a minute, and as the names were continuing to be called, a shadow fell across Luke. He looked up to see an orange-skinned Kaleesh looking down its nose at the youth.
"Aren't you a bit young to be here, Kid?" he asked haughtily. "Shouldn't you be back home with Mommy or your nanny?"
The comment stung Luke, as he had never known his mother. But he knew the other was just trying to get under his skin, so he didn't reply or react.
The Kaleesh snorted and lowered his horned head in Luke's direction. "I can all but smell your fear. You might as well give up. This kind of race is for the professionals... or the idiots who have nothing left to lose."
Luke looked away, wondering just who this guy was. His answer came when the next name was spoken from the speakers.
"And here is the fan favorite, Riczo Quo!"
Thunderous applause flooded the area and the Kaleesh straightened proudly, sniffed disdainfully at Luke and sauntered into the sunlight. His arms opened wide as if to physically receive all the adulation coming his way. Riczo even took a little bow before mounting his swoop bike, which was painted a bold yellow with red and black flames painted across the nose.
Luke saw that he was the only one left to announce, and so he straightened his shoulders, refusing to be cowed. He was Luke Skywalker, great pilot and survivor: he would not be bullied by his fellow racers.
Garris reappeared, looking more pleased. "They wanted to make sure they had your name right. Now, make me proud, my boy."
Luke didn't like it when Garris called him that, but he said nothing.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a new racer coming onto the track today! You've heard of him around the cantinas no doubt, and many have been talking about him! Making his debut in our humble race, please welcome Smalls!"
Luke squared his shoulders and walked silently out to his swoop. There was a mixture of boos and hesitant clapping as he did so. No doubt they weren't sure what to make of such a... short, unknown person coming onto the scene.
Luke suddenly felt the pressure on his shoulders double. Not only did Garris expect him to succeed, but now he was expected by the crowd to perform some miracle. Luke's heart clenched, but then he resolutely willed his uncertainty away. He tuned out the noise of the crowd, listening only to the official, who began telling the rules.
Once that was finished, his tone changed. "Start your engines!"
Swoops came to life all around Luke, filling the dell with thunder that reverberated off the concave walls around them. Luke's bike rumbled and purred like a nexu coiling for a spring.
A signal light was floated to the starting line by a pair of hover droids, the lights currently red. Racers lowered visors or adjusted gloves or such until all settled into an expectant hush.
Luke kept his eyes on the lights while his hands feathered the throttle just so...
Three... two... one... GO!
There was an explosion of bikes as the gaggle of racers tore from the natural amphitheater and out onto the open plains after a moment of navigating their way out of the hills. Luke had a good start, and found himself in the middle of the pack, relishing the rush of the wind over his body as the bike zoomed through the air.
Suddenly everything that had bothered him melted away as Luke simply gave himself over to the event. He knew, deep in his being, that piloting was in his blood. And he truly loved flying, no matter what form it took. Though one day Luke hoped it would be in his own ship among the stars... with no one to answer to and no Sith Lord on his six.
A smile broke out on Luke' face and his tension melted mostly away. He leaned forward somewhat and allowed instinct to take over like he had before. Luke didn't worry about making his way to the front of the pack just yet.
Dessh had warned Luke that some of the racers got violent and tried to take out any other opponents they could in their fight for first place. With that knowledge, Luke had felt it was wise to allow the other racers to start taking each other out at the begining of the race while he focused on keeping up and staying alive.
And Luke realized he had chosen correctly when, up ahead, one swoop swerved into another and the second one lost control, with the bike coming back towards the rest of the racers.
Swoops broke formation as each person avoided the hazard, though before they reached the thicket two more racers were taken down. Luke hoped they at least survived, though he knew that at these speeds, there was no way they weren't injured.
Luke saw the tree line coming and tried to find a path with his eyes. He couldn't find anything though, and the first stirrings of doubt wormed into his mind before something whispered to him... and Luke recalled Malastare.
Without question Luke directed his speeder three degrees east, and was rewarded with a nearly-clear path through the first half of the woods. There were still trees to dodge, and fallen ones to either duck under or leap over, but he felt his confidence boost a few notches. He heard an explosion behind him a ways and glanced back to see a fireball. Luke winced, and then a Rodian leveled up to Luke's bike.
"You don't belong in this race, Smalls!" he snarled, moving to slam his bike into Luke's.
Instead of panicking, Luke simply hit the brakes for a second, slowing him down just long enough for the Rodian to miss him completely and end up side-swiping a rather large tree trunk. The Rodian screamed and then Luke was beyond him at full speed again.
Something guided Luke in a path towards the west, and he maneuvered in and out of the random scattering of trees with apparent ease. He didn't know what position he was in yet, though when he broke through the thicket, he spied four racers ahead of him, Riczo included. Luke determined swiftly that Riczo was in fact in the lead, and began planning his advance.
Luke saw the racers ahead beginning to form a single-file line, though the second-place person attempted to jump ahead of Riczo. Instead of allowing the other to safely enter the ravine, Riczo sped up and as a result the other ended up off-course, which meant he would have to circle back around and try catching up. Luke entered the ravine in fourth place, and felt just a hint of fear at how close the walls of rock were to his swoop on both sides.
If he deviated more than a few inches to either side, he would be finished. And he then realized that if anyone in front of him wiped out, they would likely take anyone behind them along.
Shaking his head somewhat to clear it, Luke tried to give himself over to that strange helping power that kept whispering to him. With that effort, his muscles relaxed a bit and he simply flew, trusting that he would make it through the ravine.
The curves appeared from almost nowhere and Luke saw the person in front of him make their curve too wide and with a metallic screech their bike bounced violently off the rock face, barreling in an uncontrolled tumble towards Luke.
Seeing a pattern in the way it fell— how could he see that? Luke wondered in a small part of his mind— Luke adjusted his thrusters, and just before the crashing bike got to him Luke used his repulsors to bounce upward.
The wreck passed by underneath Luke and he willed himself not to look at the racer's body as it too went by.
Luke straightened out and focused on getting out of the ravine alive. Before he knew it, there was an ascent, and Luke burst forth from the mouth of the ravine like a torpedo from its tube.
He had hardly flown a few meters when black sticky bubbles burst a random pattern all around him, some of their spray splattering onto his pant legs. Luke resolutely ignored the tar pits and put on speed, making his move now that they were nearing the final stretch.
He caught up to the two leaders while dodging large black tar-bubbles and even some skeletal remains protruding up from them in one place. Luke felt the urge to hold back some, and he frowned, but decided that this feeling had gotten him this far, so Luke did as it asked.
And he was very glad he did. Riczo, seeing that his competitor was coming even with him and about to take point, pulled an electrostaffs from a holster strapped across his back. He turned it on, and Luke watched in horror as he probed the side of the human man with purple electricity... and holding it there while he flew in tandem with the other.
The man being shocked screamed and writhed until he fell off his swoop into the tar. Luke's heart leapt into his throat and he wanted to help the poor soul. But, if he failed...
Thoughts of what Garris would do if Luke didn't win came to his mind, and Luke had to turn away from the man in need. It was hard, but the choice was made easier when he saw a vehicle from that man's team approach the tar pits from the direction of the finish line.
Luke and Riczo were the only ones left up front, something the youth verified by looking aft to see no one. And the tar pits were fading away to be replaced with open plain once more, which meant that the hills were approaching.
An idea formed in Luke's mind, and he once again picked up speed. He would try to out fly Riczo in the hills. Riczo veered right and so Luke went left at the first hill. They ended up intersecting at the other end of the hill for a few seconds before they had to veer again. Luke ended up having to go a bit farther this time to be able to make his way back to the place he needed to be.
Worried that this would cost him, Luke opened the throttle completely, and felt the bike pull underneath him as inertia fought against his body. Luke's navigation unit told him he was back on track and so he straightened out.
Moments later, something briefly struck Luke in the hip, and he screamed as a jolt of energy ran through him. His control of the swoop wavered, and Luke struggled to get away from his attacker while also attempting to not crash.
Riczo appeared beside Luke, who glanced at the Kaleesh warily. The other was sneering at him and he brandished his weapon once more, clearly intending to stick it in Luke's chest this time.
Luke had no idea what happened, or how he did it: but one second, Riczo was thrusting his weapon at Luke, and in the next Luke had the same weapon in his own grasp and stabbed it into Riczo's thigh.
Riczo jumped with a shriek and ended up falling off his swoop, which wobbled and crashed into the next hill. Luke nearly followed suit, but he dropped the weapon and grabbed the controls just in time to swerve, though his feet grazed the grass as he did so.
Luke saw the finish line appear, and he made a beeline for it, crossing it to raucous cheering on his behalf. He did hear some angry shouts at Riczo's loss, but the boy paid it no mind. Luke managed to first slow and then stop his swoop before he slipped off, collapsing into a heap when his hip gave out under his weight.
He wasn't on the floor long, as Garris and Dessh appeared, both with large grins. While Dessh took control of the swoop, Garris hoisted Luke up and showed him off like a trophy to the spectators.
Luke could have cared less about their praises; all he wanted was for his hip to stop hurting. But he supposed that compared to some of the other racers he had it pretty good.
A furious shout sounded and Luke turned his head to see a frazzled and scuffed Riczo stamping toward him. "You little pile of bantha poodoo!" he hollered.
Luke glared back even though Riczo could not see. "You cheated sleemo!" he yelled back before Garris hit him pointedly in the hip to shut him up. Luke hissed in pain and allowed the adults to handle the furious Kaleesh.
"You need to back off, Riczo," Garris was saying in a cold tone. "My racer won fair and square, despite your attempts to sabotage him. I could have you imprisoned for cheating, but if you back off now, I won't press charges."
Riczo gestured rudely. "And who would care about cheating?"
Garris smiled predatorily. "Why, the Hutts who are sponsoring this race, of course. They do care where their money goes, after all."
The Kaleesh seemed to shrink back at that, and finally he did move away, though not without a few more insults thrown at Luke, most of which would have made a Hutt blush.
Luke ignored him and endured the after-race mayhem while he was marched to the winner's box and presented with his prize. He was then photographed, and Garris was interviewed by a member of the holopress.
Luke did his best to stand at attention, though his hip hurt fiercely. Finally, when it was all over, and the crowds began to disperse, Garris led Luke back into their cave. Luke was both relieved and grateful to see a medic waiting for him.
"Good job, Boy," Garris praised Luke, holding out his hand expectantly. Luke pressed his winnings into the man's large palm and turned away. "You do have a promising future ahead of you."
There was an undercurrent in Garris' voice that Luke didn't like, but the medic claimed his attention before he could dwell on it.