Chapter 3

The Hutt Empire Gets a LuckyFoothold

His master was terrible, if great. A man only by the sinewy flesh that strapped together his bones, otherwise he was a being of divine cruelty. A better Master of the Dark could not be wished for but even he was not infallible. After the failure of Vader, Palpatine had become more wary, more doubtful of his own ingenious. His apprentice was as young as Anakin Skywalker once was and just as angry. He couldn't understand why the redemption of Darth Vader was so momentous, as he was too young to truly remember the power of Anakin the Jedi and only vaguely recalled the horror of Vader that followed.

The young Sith grew reckless, feeling trapped and cornered by the established Jedi Order. A blasphemous thought began to build in his head- perhaps his master was not all knowing in this matter. His fixation on his old apprentice, that failure, was blinding him. His fear was too strong.

There was only one solution, if the Sith were to succeed and rebuild the vision of the galaxy as it was meant to be.

Anakin Skywalker, that indecisive Jediscum, needed to die.

And the young Sith betrayed his master, as Sith do, and he plotted his own schemes to eliminate this distraction. His master would never know, and if anything would reward the boy for his skill. That is what the young man thought.

Later, when Palpatine discovers this foolishness, he sighs and accepts the rage flowing in his veins. He accepts that his latest apprentice was another failure- and that he was good as dead. Anakin Skywalker was unlikely to fall when Palpatine had failed to strike him down.

Luke Skywalker needed to be located much sooner than he had thought. Much sooner indeed.

Podracing was a dangerous occupation, and borderline suicide for human contestants. The pods are built small and shoddy, often personally, and on Tatooine there was not much for precious building material. It was still something the humans in the villages would come to see, especially children. It was one of the only times these children would see the seedy Mos Eisley, and these races had become so infamous in the last couple decades that visitors from other planets began betting pools and eventually luxury trips to watch the lowlifes of a dusty crummy planet race for their lives.

This made the backwater planet more visible to the general population of the Republic, and a positive turnout was the diminished presence of the Hutts. Slavers were still a dangerous component to life on the Outer Rim, but generally the attention podracing had garnered was doing wonders. Though Mos Eisley was still dirtbag central, it was hyperlanes better than the days that Anakin had spent wandering its streets.

He felt some calm at the sight of children, running and weaving their way through the stalls. They looked carefree, and not garbed in a slave's rough hewn cloth. They also showed no fear of being snatched, either from the safety a podracing day provided or maybe things really had improved that much. They vanished from his line of sight, but he felt better all the same.

"Anakin." Obi-Wan called through the force. He sent his old partner, and old friend, contentedness. There was no welling of buried emotion brough to the surface by this planet of many memories. As much as the podraces have become popular among the rich, noble, and the betting sort; Anakin was aware this was more of a test than anything else. He also knew it was not necessary- he couldn't muster that rage anymore. Burnt out by the sizzling hands of his once most-trusted confidante, Sheev Palpatine.

He had made so many mistakes, but Padmé was his worst. She had died, thinking of him- of the horrible fate he had subjected himself to. The Jedi had luckily been able to recover her body after Palpatine's siege on Naboo that Anakin had sabotaged. But that was all- her body. Until he had turned from the Dark, returned to the Temple, he had not learned of how her death truly came about.

It seemed she had died from suffocation. The ceiling gave out suddenly, and crushed her lungs. It took four days to find her and by then it was too late.

If only Anakin had not fled, if only he had known she was still there-

It is no use circling back to the same poisonous thoughts, he concluded. And made his way in line with his Jedi Master companions to watch a race, not compete in one. He lets the pain of losing his wife, losing his unborn child, go to the back of his mind where it lives uncumbered.

So much had changed, in these years. So much. And Anakin made it to his seat unaware that it was all going to change again.

"I wish they were wearing battle cloth, like in the holos!" Luke absentmindedly nodded, he too loved the holos about the Jedi and the Clone Wars. He had seen one or two in the village class held weekly. But right now, he needed to leave the off limits zone to get to Fixer, not focus on the Order of the Jedi... The race would be gearing up soon, and he was pumped with excitement. All his time in the canyons, in the risky Jundlands, were sure to pay off now.

"I'm off," he whispered. Biggs clapped him on the back once more, and Luke shot him a grateful smile. His friends weren't going to be able to get seats or anything of the like, without credits. To his knowledge they would maybe stay here, or find a more suitable off limits zone than the landing strip. With his uncanny senses, he made his way out onto the main streets again without being hassled.

Fixer stood outside his junkyard, the humanoid looked tense.

"Kid, what takes so long?" His accent was never easy for Luke, but over the last year he'd heard it a lot more. Practically decipherable.

"Nothing, nothing," he reassured. "I'm here now, aren't I?" Fixer gives him a stink eye and a raised eyebrow.

"You don't win," he stated. "You good, not winning. But I see. You don't will die. You get top three."

"I won't die." Luke repeated. "And of course I'll get top three. I'll try and win!"

"Not win," Fixer shakes his head. "You won't win. Many in gure- and so you will get top three if you focus to fly." Luke shifted uncomfortably at the reminder. Life forms didget hurt in these races, sometimes grievously injured as Fixer said. And Luke was only a small human boy compared to those who commonly competed! But it happened once before a human won, granted Luke knew very little of how, but a human has won before. So he puffed up in bravado and smiled at the grim partial human in front of him.

"I'll try," Luke repeated. And he took his ignitor from Fixer's outreached hand, to make his way to the racing track less than a few minutes walk away. He felt a cold sliver of dread go down his spine. It was the first negative thing Luke had felt all day...

Something was certainly... not... right...

"MOVE." Luke lept aside, head down. He had been too distracted, and his sixth sense had failed him. Kriffing hell, maybe he was just nervous.

There are many spectators, more than he had ever remembered. The rich people seemed to like to watch poor people fight for money. Luke didn't care much about a cash prize, but if he won one he'd be very happy and maybe the money would help Owen forgive his dad. Maybe he would like Luke more- just a bit more, and he wouldn't have to work so hard...

Most importantly, he owed it to Fixer. Literally owed it to him like, with credits. The junkyard humanoid was expecting payment for the help he'd gotten for materials- after seeing Luke fly he gave the boy a big chance. His uncanny senses had better be right this time too- Luke wasa good flier. He had to win top three, he had to.

The Rodian at the racer's entrance at the bottom of the stands was eyeing him suspiciously.

"No way," it said. "No kriffing way, laserbrain." Obstinately Luke thrust forward his ignitor, and willed with all his little heart and soul that the Rodian recognised he was not lying. With a pause too long for Luke to be comfortable, the Rodian male eventually sniffed. "Your funeral," it grinned nastily and stepped aside. "Little thing of a human, aren't you?" Luke walked by quickly as he could and didn't answer.

He could see his pod already, and he jogged past the other racers attending to theirs. Their grumbles and frowns would mean nothing once the race began.

"Force tell me!" Qui-Gon exclaimed. "Is that a child? And it looks to be a human too! There are rather frail for such games if I recall correct, are they not Obi-Wan?" The man in question was half raised out of his seat to get a better look.

"Not much has changed it seems," he muttered, but he looked round to his partner quickly. Anakin was naturally already alert. They both remembered how they met.

"Absolutely-" he looked to be at a loss for words. "Absolutely not!" He continued with a raised voice. "Not as much has changed as we have been led to believe if a child, a humanchild, can be forced to- to death like this!" Obi-Wan was worried at the anger in his friend's voice, not of him but for him. Master Windu, and a choice few others, had been sceptical about the tales that Anakin had told upon his return. But he had more than proven himself truthful to Obi-Wan. Like he had expected, Windu was now equally alert and eyeing Anakin. Surprisingly instead of a reprimand-

"It is extremely unorthodox," Master Windu added. "Perhaps he is, trained, for it?" That little mop of platinum blond hair was disappearing into his pod.

"You can't," Anakin sputtered. "train a child to- I was guided by the Force- this is-" Obi-Wan laid a hand on his friend's arm.

"R-R-Racers!" Shouting the commentator from his box. "Take your positions, steady your soul, prepare- and into battle you go!" It seemed the words had barely come out before a loud trumpet exploded into the air with ugly sound.

Their agreement that no child, especially not one unprotected by the Force, should be competing in such a deadly race was in vain. Too late- because as they spoke the race began, with Anakin looking on in horror.

The pods ripped off, and a few Coruscant visitors tittered in shock. The reliable lack of safety on Tattooine must be a shock for the upperclass new to the Outer Rim, Anakin thought wryly. The small and bright haired child had taken off as well.

Anakin felt out of control, that little child was out of his control. He couldn't- he couldn't help it- not up here- maybe with the Force-

But his delibration did not get to last very long. As the racers looped, the entire stadium collapsed. From second to second, and then there was this presence of utter malice in Force- kriffing hell how hadn't they felt it before-

The rubble of the stadium had certainly crushed a few, and the Hutt representatives were roaring. The Council was already on its feet, ready for this newest threat. Anakin was extraordinarily ready, hand on his hip, ignoring the itch of sand that had managed to permeate his clothes.

The screams seemed to fade out for the Jedi, and Qui-Gon raised his lit saber. The Dark was here and it was strong in presence. They heard a resounding thrum of another lightsaber, and the Jedi turned grim.

"Qui-Gon," Yoda rasped. "Your fight, is it?"

"I will remain," said the stiff man. Obi-Wan moved to stand shoulder-to-shoulder with his old teacher.

"As I," added Anakin quickly. "This is not- it's not him." Anakin sounded almost disappointed it wasn't Sidious. "I would know."

"You would, yes," Yoda said. "Return, we will. Be a ploy, this may." Neither Obi-Wan or Anakin had considered that. They shared a look of determination.

"The integrity of the capital is paramount," said Qui-Gon. The other five Council members that had trekked along to Tatooine gave short bows of the head, and Master Windu let his gaze linger on Anakin, who was resolutely ignoring him. As they walked away towards the strip they had come in on, the remaining Jedi saw what had become of the city sprawling in that direction.

Plumes of black smokes and red licking flames beat down the landscape, and now they could hear the screaming again but it was not just from the collapsed stadium.

It looked to be all of Mos Eisley.

A tall figure, shrouded by a thick black cloth, stood with an ignited black lightsaber thrumming on the empty race pitch. The racers had been intelligent enough to stop, and a few were hastily getting out of their pods a little ways away. Some life forms were rising from the rubble of the stadium, likely injured or greatly confused.

Foolish, the safest place was in a pod for these life forms. Now the Jedi were no longer thinking of the boy, they were far more focused on this threat.

Anakin stepped before Qui-Gon, who's displeasure he felt.

"Anakin Skywalker," the Sith hissed out. "You will die today, Jedi!" Anakin felt a bolt of old fear go through him, but like always it only made him stronger. "You are a blemish to my Master's prowess!" Anakin flinched at that. So Sidious was out there, and found this one to train in the stead of his failure with Anakin.

He shouldered on.

"I think you are mixing up my fate for yours."

"There is no escaping the past," rasped the cloak. "It is happening right now, and it will continue to happen in your future. Time is constantly instantaneous." But this time, the scarred man showed no flinch to the reminder of his past, or his fervent emotions surrounding it that refused to allow him to forgive himself.

"Then your end was written in every moment you've spent, just wasting your time," Anakin spat while unsheathing his saber. It crackled electric blue. "Come meet me, your inevitable death, Sith!" The Darth hissed and his blade charged as well- but he instantly thrust it to the side and skewered a young Bothan running by, strapping and long-legged, now dead. Anakin sucked in a breath and parried forward, determined not to look at the slack jawed barely-teen that lay prone on the dirt ground.

The sizzle of the lightsabers was exhilarating, each thrust met with a quick lunge or well practiced dodge. Qui-Gon stepped up to parry, and he saw Obi-Wan circle around. They were ready, a team like they used to be.