Chapter 8
If anyone would say Darth Maul is capable of feeling fear some time ago, he would have cackled in their face before ensuring that they suffer a painful death and probably even slaughtered the fool's family and friends. For a long time, he believed he no longer felt fear - no longer capable of - not even in the presence of his own Master.
On Orisis, he learned the skills of an assassin. However, Sidious ordered him to forgo any use of the Force, save for his heightened senses, and to improve in terms of lightsaber combat.
The young Zabrak, upon being introduced to the students, challenged the tall Abyssin Dalok to prove himself and defeated him with such ferocity that he bit him on the nose. He defeated many in his time yet now the presence is closing in on him.
When he was younger, the boy constantly feared for his life, but he learned that he must turn his fear into anger, therefore using it many times in his hunts against the Jedi of their pathetic Order and growing ever more powerful as he drained off of the dark side.
All he has to do is destroy a mere Jedi Master who would expire shortly and an arrogant Padawan and one part of his mission would be completed then he shall retreat until this traitor to the ways of the Sith diverges from the Queen and capture the Queen and bring her to Coruscant.
That has been the plan; the plan that Darth Sidious formulated; now, he could sense the presence closing upon him greater than before; he senses pressure surrounding his chest, whoever this being's presence in the dark side as strong as his own Master. Dread feels him as he realizes that the plan is failing and that means as a result he will fail his Master if this figure is indeed as powerful as his Force Signature.
The modified Naboo speeder accelerates to him, and, not even forming a confronting stance, the figure extracts himself from the vehicle, looking ever the more intimidating with the Twin Suns at his back. Ruthless and cold as ice, and for the first time in a long time, the Sith Apprentice shivers. Power and domination radiate around him.
The Zabrak Assassin glares, angry at the power of this mockery obtaining this immense power but also interested in seeing if he can bring him before his Master, for him to drain his power and to give it to them so they can obtain unlimited power or perhaps a better alternative would be able to convince him to join them. He observes the figure, completely clouded in black, staring up at his enemies with his golden eyes. The battle-worn armor reminds him all too much of Darth Revan's ancient lost armor and the mask that is similar to Darth Malgus.
Like a prey hunting for a hunter, the Zabrak snarls, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber before activating the crimson weapon, twirling his lightsaber across the sandy ground, and attempting to intimidate this traitor, seeing that despite his Master's warning to avoid the Jedi, a confrontation is inevitable.
The shadow huffs - or makes a noise that sounds like it. "Fool, you are hardly even worthy of being called a Sith. To believe otherwise is pathetic. You are just a tool."
The Zabrak points his upper lightsaber horizontally at the figure, a cold fury intensifying within him. "Your allies would be defeated."
The dark shadow chuckles. "You would have to defeat me. You are a weapon long past its time, were you to ally with me some time ago, I would have welcomed your strength, but we shall do battle here, and the victor shall prove their worth to be the greatest among us. Show me you are truly worthy of being called Sith..." the figure draws, grasping the hilt of his lightsaber and activating it. "Make your mother proud."
The Zabrak lunges, utilizing more momentum than ever before. He dares to mock him and cut a core deep within him that reminds him of his mother! He shall die! Yes, the Zabrak shall see that this shadow suffers the most pain he has ever seen and see to it that he feels every wound! He would first take his corpse to Mustafar where he would char his remaining body parts for days! He would then travel to Dathomir and command them to devour this shadow's remaining ashes to the point where he screams for death!
The shadow's lightsaber comes up as he waits patiently for the Zabrak to attack. It only further incenses the Zabrak that he isn't willing to regard him as a challenge.
And the clash begins.
The Zabrak's agility on inhuman legs and flashing blades seems to push the dark figure away. But only at the beginning. With dawning amazement and horror, he realizes that the being is deflecting all of his strikes… with only one blade! He feels his rage deepen and calls upon the dark side even more. Speed increasing still, he blurs away from the figure, then streaks back even faster, hoping to take it by surprise and pierce it through the torso.
Each of his blows is countered with a casualness that surprises him. What's more, his own strikes appear to be far more powerful. From his time in training, the Zabrak can see that the mysterious foe is battering each of his strikes. He is trained in all seven forms yet his foe is requiring merely one form to defeat him! It made him angry but the shadow didn't break his source for combat! When the Zabrak attempts to jump over him and dashes at him, the shadow merely turns like a talented dancer, masterfully parries the assault by the Zabrak, and continues to advance!
The Zabrak finds himself back on defense, parrying each assault with a noticeable strain in his muscles, gritting his teeth as the force of the shadow's blows descends down upon him. The shadow jabs him in the shoulder and manages to break through his assault, striking him in the torso with his fist, causing him to grunt and his lightsaber to fly several feet away.
The shadow plants his knee on his abdomen, preventing him from moving. "Sloppy," the shadow declares with some sort of amusement. "Many others can fight better. How anyone like you could be viewed as an Assassin by your Master is beyond me."
The Zabrak catches him in the face and kicks him off of his form, using the Force in calling his double-bladed lightsaber horizontally into his grip and activating it, breathing heavily as he glares at this adversary. This being is a mockery of everything he was taught. Working with Jedi! Associating with inadequate individuals who only bury themselves away with wealth without obtaining any real power!
He would show him the power of the dark side.
"It appears that your mastery of the Dark Side is not as complete as you wished," the scornful voice taunts. "Shame. A learned disciple might have corroborated a formidable bludgeon to be implemented as I have striven."
The shadow swings his lightsaber around the Zabrak in under a second, and he can sense the light and the darkness in every swipe that sends a waver through the Force surrounding him, the shadow pulling back and raising his hand, before propelling sand off the ground and sending the storm he has constructed with the Force into the Assassin's direction, provoking the Zabrak into raising his double-bladed lightsaber and blocks the assault, gritting his teeth as the strain of his muscles begins to become evident before he raises his hand and blasts the sand back at the user.
The Zabrak, beyond irritated, sends the wind of sand away, striking his way to the fog and hacking at where his opponent is... or was. As the wind clears up, he can't see his rival anywhere...
Only to dodge a swipe a second earlier from decapitating his head from his shoulders! The Zabrak kicks him back, parrying five assaults, and Force Blasts him away, rotating his blade before welcoming him to attack with one motion of his hand. The shadow walks over calmly, slashing at the Zabrak who parries each of the strikes. The Zabrak aims for a downer strike, attempting to catch him off-balance in the knee. His strike is promptly blocked without much effort.
The shadow returns his attention to him, aiming his lightsaber at him. "Unfortunately, assassin, you have yet to realize both Orders are pathways to misery. The Order of Bane and the Order of Jedi is tortuous; one Order cannot control their emotions while the other is immensely detached. Both Orders must collapse for balance to be restored once and for all. And I shall see to it."
The Zabrak glares at him, golden eyes flashing as he lunges at the shadow, hacking away endlessly at the man that the blows alone would have killed any other inexperienced individual. The Zabrak spurts forward, and the shadow tears forward to meet him, the former attempting to send flurries over flurries in a pathetic attempt to destroy him. The shadow merely rammers him aside in all to the calm of a gesture that adds to his anger as he skids across the ground, sending his lightsaber away the second time that day.
The Zabrak gets into a pouncing position before he feels it once again. Within his advisory, the light and dark synchronize. They merge, the boundaries between them breaking down until it becomes nearly impossible to tell one from the other. Like the twin suns above, he is the center point of the Force in its ecumenicity. Existing within the same echelon as other mortal beings, and yet at the same time reaching a level that they could not, should not encompass.
The Zabrak dodges the slash that could have ended his life and reaches out and grabs his lightsaber with the Force, causing the shadow to glide slightly as it activates and spin towards its creator horizontally. Had he been a second late, the shadow would have been cleaved clean and vertically into two.
The Zabrak catches his lightsaber with a menacing grin, spinning it in his hand for a moment in an attempt at intimidation, not able to resist the urge to speak for the first time. "What's the matter, traitor of the Sith? Exhausted."
"Attempting to stall while you are losing this battle. You are inconsequential, pretender." the shadow ridicules darkly, hammering his blow aside before locking blades. "Easily negligible. Undomesticated. Pity how once you would have been serviceable to me. I have once fought an elder Former Jedi and he was incomparably more powerful than you, even in his final moments."
The Zabrak pulls back and twirls his lightsaber expeditiously towards the shadow who briskly repels his assaults, the shadow intercepting his lightsaber with his own.
"Your lightsaber movements are beyond sloppy. It is disparaging to the Sith title itself." the shadow taunts, sensing the Zabrak's arrogance is slowly materializing. "You think yourself special, boy. You're just a child with no experience of the galaxy."
"I'm a Sith!" The Zabrak rages, golden eyes flashing, finally losing the little patience he has left. He wants to wipe out the smirk that must be on his foe's face, wants to decapitate his head repeatedly and deform his corpse all over, and wants to show his Master how powerful he is.
The shadow chuckles. "You are truly a pathetic waste of Force Sensitivity in all realities."
Although a small part of him is bemused at what the shadow meant by all realities, the Zabrak feels himself in the dark side of the Force reaching the climax, the dark side itself roaring inside of his being. Executing a move phenomenally, the Zabrak lunges at the massive shape. The shadow repulses the stab with equal speed, riposting with a counter slash that the Zabrak barely parries. Another parry and Maul counters again, using this opportunity to move around the towering shadow.
They continue to trade blows, with the Sith now backing toward his shuttle. Once his saber and the shadow's lock, the interaction of the two energy fields precipitated violent sparking and coruscating. A low buzzing sound rises from the overrefinement power units as each saber solicits to override the other.
Baring his fangs into a dangerous grin, the Zabrak pushes forward, attempting to intimidate him. "You believe the Jedi would accept your presence, even after assisting one of their own and Naboo? They would only seek to apprehend you and question you because of the dark side of the Force surrounding you. They wiped out an entire institution of purebloods because of their history. Surrender and my Master would show you true unchallenging power."
"The Jedi Council may attempt to restrain me," the shadow reveals, thrusting the Zabrak back with equal vehemence, "but I am imperturbable. No matter their methods they may attempt to use against me, they would only dwindle. You however have done mental damage to my brother, forcing him into self-isolation. You killed his father figure, his lover, and even attempted to kill his little brother. You're nothing but an animal. Your Master is just as such."
The shadow raises his hand, lightning extending through his fingertips, and crashing full friction into the Zabrak. It is a common torture method that his Master previously use on him, one of his weaknesses. The Zabrak collapses in agony as the lightning courses through his body, deactivating his lightsaber as he tries to break away from the might of the being.
The shadow ends his assault. "Show me the animal you truly are. Show me that you are worthy of being called Sith." He taunts, before sending more lightning at him with his powers, the anger intensifying within the Zabrak. "Good. Good. Lash out, boy. Strike me down if you are truly the master of the dark side, and you prove your abilities and possibly would be able to overthrow your Master."
With the power of the dark side of the Force, the Zabrak raises his hands and brings the shadow down to his knees; unbeknownst to him, a similar move pulled his rival into a fortress that nearly caused her to sink into the dark side many years ago.
Even in his valuable state, the Zabrak shows no hesitation and launches himself into the air, his twin-bladed lightsaber whirling as it lands with a hiss against the shadow, who somersaults in the air, landing perfectly, cape spiraling behind him as the sand blows around himself, admittedly creating a dramatic effect around himself. The Zabrak winces, but charges again, he whips his saber around his head and body, hitting the shadow from both sides so quickly there seems to be no delay in between.
The shadow moves to cleanse him in two, but the Zabrak can counter his assault. The two relentlessly hack away at each other, strikes nearly hitting too close to home multiple times for both. The Zabrak would never know this, but the shadow is swift to acknowledge that the Zabrak is indeed remarkable and talented with a lightsaber and that this would not be a fight he could win with no effort. The shadow is a former Sith Lord, however, and his admiration for his foe cannot be confused with fear.
The shadow lunges, his crimson lightsaber moving with a frantic pace but with deadly precision; he blocks all of the Zabrak's strikes, and when possible, would give his own, thrusting into the open space between the Zabrak's blades, only for his saber to be caught and pushes aside at the last second.
The Zabrak lunges back, eager to engage again, but with a different strategy, he clearly could not defeat the shadow with speed and force alone.
"You have commendable experience I must admit, but that will not win you this fight." the Zabrak snipes, breathing heavily as he squares down his foe once more.
"You have not seen my full power yet, and I can assure you, it is far beyond your own pathetic method," the shadow responds, his crimson lightsaber angle downwards in a challenging motion, the tip burning the sand.
"We shall see," the Zabrak growls.
Again, he launches himself at the shadow, this time his lightsaber catching part of the shadow's cape, tearing it off. The shadow is quick to respond, launching a flurry of attacks, each but the last being parried by the Zabrak, with it catching his hilt, causing one of the blades to deactivate in an instant. The Zabrak switches up his lightsaber style yet again, but this time he is clearly at a disadvantage, he may not have been able to defeat the shadow with both of his blades, but now he has put himself fully in the shadow's court.
"If you are truthful in claiming you are not harnessing your full power against me, then do it!" the Zabrak bellows, beyond irritated as the shadow backs himself up or moves on the defense.
"So be it," the shadow acknowledges.
The Master of the Force versus the apprentice of the most powerful Sith Lord in the entire galaxy.
Master of Djem So, the shadow swipes furiously at him before he brings his lightsaber down on the Zabrak from above, from the sides, and then from underneath, each strike bringing with it immense power and speed, the Zabrak's blocks are barely keeping the shadow's lightsaber away. The Zabrak snarls and lets out a Force Push with his free hand, but it is met with the shadow's own; and the Force energy he let out, dissipates into nothing. The shadow brings his lightsaber down once more, and when the Zabrak parries, and brings it back up with blazing speed, the shadow's continued entourage didn't stop.
Their battle carries down the hills for what feels like hours, what probably have been, the Twin Suns above them, but there is no mercy in either strike as they continue to hack away at each other with blows that would kill anyone else with less experience but both are powerful in their own right.
To none that would witness this battle, this shadow, and this Zabrak is two blurs of movements, crimson lightsabers crashing rapidly. The Zabrak notices his opponent is slightly weaker in defensive than offensive, striking at him rapidly to ensure that his opponent doesn't gain an advantage. His opponent regains the advantage of attacking by moving around him.
They finally lock blades, both knowing that the next move by either side would determine how this battle would end.
The Zabrak slowly realizes that he is outmatched. Eventually, the shadow cuts through the Zabrak's lightsaber, deactivating it completely.
"Erk-" He jerks to a stop almost afterward, his momentum entirely ceasing. His eyes roll wildly as he witnesses himself rising slowly off the ground. His throat! A Force choke! Him, Darth Maul, under one assault by the Force!
The victor stares at the one who he had just defeated, and with a slight tilt of his head, cracking sounds begin to come from the Zabrak's ribs, his desperate attempts to force the only one foe whoever defeated him away being mere futile efforts.
"RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" His force enhance cry hardly even staggers the victor.
"You believe that would work on me, Darth Maul," the victor says, a chuckle coming onto his lips. "Listen to me, little Sith, you will depart or you would die. It is up to you to decide. You would not be killing no Jedi today no matter of your Master's commands nor would the Queen of Naboo be another prey of yours."
Vader simply flicks a finger in Maul's direction, shattering his barriers as his Master always did in their fiercest days of Jedi training, and sends a command which knocks him out within a second.
Obi-Wan sits on his seat, researching the slave boy that is Anakin Skywalker. That boy has the potential to become a powerful Jedi for sure, but his relationship with his mother is a drawback especially since his attachments with her may never be severed so ultimately training him as a Jedi is going to only fail.
Not to mention, there is a hidden seed within him. It is also continuous powerlessness and complete dependence on its owner. Even if you have a house, clothes, and food, you're still an object. You are deprived of your individuality, your humanity, and your rights. People tend to have ambitions, dreams, and goals that they can work towards, but as a slave, you don't have any of that.
Obi-Wan can never relate to that to be honest. He never did. He would rather die before walking down that path.
Immediately, the Force Presence of Vader flares outwards, causing the Jedi Padawan to walk out of his quarters to find Vader drinking coffee, his hood raised over his head. Obi-Wan leans forward and sees a lightsaber clipped to his belt that is not his own, something that made Obi-Wan wonder what the kriff happen.
His deepest insecurities cause him to wonder did Vader has encountered a Jedi and kill him or her. Was this plan the entire time to separate both Master and Padawan to kill both one by one before striking against the Jedi and finally using the Queen for his own sadistic needs whether it involves killing her or another sort of plan?
But, as he probes outwards, he can't sense any threat within Vader's posture. So, Vader has kept true to his word and doesn't have any intention of betraying them even when they are valuable. He isn't the bloodthirsty Sith that the Council have described them to be but someone who truly appears to care to protect the innocent, something which Obi-Wan is ashamed to admit.
"Vader," Obi-Wan greets, folding his arms across his chest and only slightly letting his guard down when danger can still be present.
"Will you just relax?" Vader's irritation makes it obvious that he is exasperated with all the skepticism. "I'm clearly not here to kill you. Otherwise, we would have been fighting already or you would have been dead. I'm not an enemy to the Jedi unless they form me into one nor am I'm property of the Jedi Order. Just because I have contrary beliefs to your Masters doesn't mean that I wish to massacre through innocents."
Obi-Wan has to admit feeling slightly at ease at that, given the truth that rings off Vader's words but that could be another deception. How is he supposed to know whatever Vader is up to at this point? How can he know a mysterious man who has been gaining the trust of the Queen and her advisors but also wielding a crimson lightsaber which can make him as much as a Sith as the last one thousand years ago?
"I don't give my trust easily," Obi-Wan replies, deciding to seize the chance that both known Vader have just opened up designedly. "Care to explain where you received the lightsaber from?"
"Yes, I was just fighting a Sith who was attempting to kill your Master," Vader replies, sounding genuinely caring despite his posture suggesting otherwise, leaving Obi-Wan in deep shock about the revelation that the Sith has returned. "His lightsaber are now in my possession that you would be able to show off to your Council, my friend, so if they believe me an enemy, they would be proven incorrect."
Vader gulps down another round of coffee. "Please, do tell me, Obi-Wan, why do you view me as a threat? Is it because I explore the dark side? That is certainly hypocritical, my friend.
"I'm not entirely certain we are even friends, Vader," Obi-Wan replies, truly meaning that statement, and there is the slightest of a grimace within Vader's. And for reasons that escape him, Obi-Wan sits down across him. "It depends entirely on your motive or if you are the Sith we should worry about. You are someone who is embraced by the dark side which makes you a threat."
"Oh," Vader responds, sounding more or less unenthusiastic than kooky. "Have I already proven myself to you?" And his posture drops, signifying a sign of his annoyance once more. "And we have been through this. I am not a Sith, and while I may have once walked down that dark path, it is a path that I shall no longer follow. I am the protector of the Queen of Naboo and perhaps even can teach you something."
Obi-Wan's teeth grind together but he is not willing to show the man that his words are beginning to get to him.
"Your call to battle suggests otherwise..." Obi-Wan replies, not willing to allow himself to refer to Vader as a cruel individual despite his association with the dark side. "I am not going to pretend I understand who you are or where you came from, however I can only assume who you are by your attitude. If you are not a Sith, then you are a Jedi. You cannot be someone in between."
"You have much to learn about the history of your own Order, Padawan." And Obi-Wan is not going to pretend that Vader's words didn't have a drip of amusement within the tone, but there is curiosity at those words. While he has been warned about the Sith like other Jedi and other such teachings, is it possible for the Jedi to have not taught them everything about given history?
"What do you mean?" Obi-Wan asks.
"There was once different Force Users that ran an Order like your Jedi did now, but they were allowed to embrace attachments without it being frowned upon or severed the moment they are brought in and trained. As long as they learn self-control within themselves, the Order would not grow apprehensive. They were referred to as Je'daii." Vader replies, knowing that acting on Obi-Wan's confusion can eventually break him away from the Jedi Order.
"The Je'daai?" Obi-Wan questions, furrowing his eyebrows and wrinkling up his nose.
"Je'daii," Vader corrects persistently. "But enough questions and statements about the past, let us focus on the now, mainly to the reason why you are on the freighter without the required part to leave this miserable planet and without your Master currently being present. I know you have discovered something."
Obi-Wan heaves a breath. He still is not capable of trusting Vader no matter the fact that he has proven to be a friend to them if not the Jedi so far so he would respectfully not disclose any information about the little boy they have discovered earlier.
"Just another lifeform... A boy strong with the Force..." Obi-Wan admits, knowing that attempting to deny it is not wise.
"No," Vader responds, drinking more coffee, and Obi-Wan would love to ignore the obvious shit-eating grin under the hood. "You have discovered the Chosen One. He is here. I see him clearly as I see you now."
"Wh-how did you know?!" Obi-Wan exclaims, his eyes immediately going wide with shock.
"One does not train as much as in the Force as I and learned by being foolish or unprepared. The Chosen One have always been destined to be born and would soon become much more than a Jedi or a Sith. I can see that you play a pivotal role in his future." Vader responds, allowing his aura to become clearer for some reason, causing Obi-Wan to immediately reach out and sense what he is thinking. If he is planning to take the boy and train him in the ways of the Sith, the Jedi would have to apprehend him sooner.
He is surprised to find Vader imagining someone completely different. A pure soul with so much power like a Jedi who is seeking to protect the peace but also someone who can mow down entire armies like a Sith.
Obi-Wan is not certain what to do with this information.
"For now, let us talk about you. I won't manipulate you to turn on the Jedi should you seek me out to learn," Vader replies. "However, if you stick with me, Obi-Wan, by the time I'm done training you, you'll be able to take on the likes of the Grandmaster of the Jedi Order and the Master of the Order."
"Without having to become evil?" Kenobi gives him a firm look.
"No; unless you want to." Vader replies. He knows that allowing Kenobi to choose would be wiser.
"Not happening." Kenobi snaps, making him smile.
Vader knows that sooner or later he would have to turn him away from the Jedi Order or otherwise Obi-Wan would fall with the rest of the Jedi Order, something that he wouldn't allow to happen yet again.
Anakin Skywalker dream that night, and in his dream, he is of a different, but indeterminate age. He is young still, though not so young as now, but old, too. He is cut from stone, and his thoughts are emblazoned with a vision so frightening he could not bring himself to consider it fully, only to leave it just out of reach, simmering over a fire of ambition and hope. He is in a different place and time, in a world he did not recognize, in a landscape he has never seen. It is vague and shadowy in his dream, all flat and rugged at once, changing with the swiftness of a mirage born out of Tatooine's desert flats.
The dream shimmers, and voices reach out to him, soft and distant. He turns toward them, away from a wave of dark movement that suddenly appears before him, away from the sleep that gives his dream life.
"I hope you're about finished," he hears Padmé say.
But Padmé is at the head of the dark wave of his dream, and the wave is an army, marching toward him...
And then a man clouded in black armor, robes, and a cape, marching in the similar residence, a cylinder hilt on his belt that is similar to Qui-Gon sir... surrounded by flames?
R2-D2 whistles and beeps, and C-3PO chimes in with hasty assurances, saying everything is done, all is in readiness, and he stirs again.
A hand touches his cheek, brushing it softly, and the dream fades and is gone. Anakin blinks awake, rubbing at his eyes, yawning, and turning over on his side. He is no longer stretched out by the parts crate where he had fallen asleep the night before but is back in his own bed.
The hand lifts away from his cheek, and Anakin stares up at Padmé, at a face he finds an angel it brings a tightness to his throat. Yet he stares at her in confusion, for she is; the central figure in his dream, different from now, older, sadder... and something more.
"You were in my dream," he admits, swallowing hard to get the words out. "You were leading a huge army into battle."
The girl stares at him in wonder then smiles. "I hope not. I hate fighting." Her voice is merry and light, dismissive in a way that bothers him. "And?"
"There is also this strange man clouded in black and flames," he replies, uncertain how to describe them.
Padmé frowns. "Your mother wants you to get up now. We have to leave soon."
Anakin climbs to his feet, fully awake. He walks to the back door and stood looking out at the anthill complex of the slave quarters, at the bustle of slaves going about their daily work, at the clear, bright early morning sky that promised good weather for the Boonta Eve race. The Podracer hangs level before him on its antigrav lifts, freshly painted and gleaming in the new day's sunlight. R2-D2 bustle about with a brush and can of paint, completing the final detailing of the craft. C-3PO, still missing most of his outer skin, his working parts clearly visible, followed along, pointing out missed patches, giving unsolicited opinions and bits of advice.
Still, in the back of his mind, he wonders who is the man in his dream. He has never seen him before but he seems particularly familiar. His figure awes the boy, and it feels strangely familiar.
The sharp wheeze of an eopie brings him around to find Kitster riding toward them on the first of two of the beasts he commandeered to help haul the Podracer to the arena. Kitster's dark face is aglow with expectation, and he waves eagerly at Anakin as he approaches.
Anakin waves back, shouting, "Hook 'em up, Kitster!" He turns back to Padmé. "Where's Qui-Gon?"
The girl gestures. "He left with Jar Jar for the arena. They've gone to find Watto."
Anakin sprints to his bedroom to wash and dress.
Qui-Gon Jinn strolls through the main hangar of the Mos Espa Podracer arena, glancing at the activity about him with seemingly casual interest. The hangar is a cavernous building that houses Podracers and equipment year-round and served as a staging area for vehicles and crews on race days. A handful of racers are already in place on the service pads, dozens of aliens who had found their way to Tatooine from every corner of the galaxy crawling all over the Pods and engines as pit bosses and pilots shouts instructions. The clash and shriek of metal-on-metal echoes in an earsplitting din through the hangar's vast chamber, forcing conversations to be held at something approaching a shout.
Jar Jar hugs one shoulder of the Jedi Master while Watto buzzes close by the other. The former is his normal fretful, nervous self, eyes rolling on their stalks, head twisting this way and that with such frantic concern it seems certain it must soon twist off altogether. Watto flies with blatant disregard for everything but his own conversation, which rambles on and on, covering the same points endlessly-
"So it must be understood clearly that our bargain is sealed, outlander," he repeats for at least the third time in the last ten minutes. His blue-snout head bobs with emphasis. "I'll want to see your spaceship the moment the race is over."
He makes no bones about the fact that he believed that gaining lawful possession of the Naboo transport was only a matter of time. He did not once since Qui-Gon had found him at the betting booths suggested that things might work out otherwise.
The Jedi Master dismisses him with a shrug. "Patience, my blue friend. You'll have your winnings before the suns set, and my companions and I will be far away from here."
"Not if your ship belongs to me, I think!" Watto snorts and gives a satisfied laugh. Just as quickly, his sharp eyes fixed on the Jedi. "I warn you, no funny business!"
Qui-Gon resists a smirk. 'Well, we might have to use Vader if this goes wrong. The Force cannot be wrong however.'
Qui-Gon keeps walking, his gaze directs elsewhere, carefully baiting the hook he has set for the Toydarian. "You don't think Anakin will win?"
Watto flies around in front of him and brought them all to a stop. Wings beating furiously, he motions to a bright orange racer park close at hand, its engines modify so that when the energy binders are activated and the engines joined, they formed a distinctive X-shape. Sitting to one side of the racer is the Dug who attacked Jar Jar two days earlier, Sebulba, his wicked eyes fix on them, his slender limbs drawl up in a vaguely menacing gesture. A pair of lithesome Twi'leks work diligently massaging the Dug's neck and shoulders. The Twi'leks are humanoid aliens from the planet Ryloth; they have pointed teeth, smooth blue skin, and twin tentacles that drape gracefully from their hairless heads down their silken backs. Their red eyes lift to Qui-Gon momentarily, interest flickering in their depths, then returns quickly to their master.
Watto snorts. "Don't get me wrong," he announces, shaking his head in an odd cocking motion. "I have great faith in the boy. He's a credit to your species." His snaggletooth mouth tightens. "But Sebulba there is going to win, I think."
Qui-Gon pretends to study the Dug carefully. "Why?"
"Because he always wins!" The Toydarian breaks into a fit of laughter, consumed by his own cleverness. "I'm betting heavily on Sebulba!"
"I'll take that bet," Qui-Gon says at once.
Watto stops laughing instantly, jerking away as if scalded by hot oil. "What?" He shakes his head in astonishment. "What do you mean?"
Qui-Gon takes yet another step, backing the Toydarian away. "I'll wager my new racing Pod against..." He trails off thoughtfully, letting Watto hang. "Against, say, the boy and his mother."
Watto is aghast. "A Pod for slaves! I don't think so!" The blue wings are a blur as he flitted this way and that, head cocked. "Well, perhaps. Just one. The mother, maybe. The boy isn't for sale."
Qui-Gon frowns. "The boy is small. He can't be worth much."
Watto shakes his head decisively.
"For the fastest Pod ever built?"
Watto shakes his head again.
"Both, or no bet."
They are standing near the front entrance of the hangar, and the noise of the crew work had lessened. Beyond, the arena stands rise against the desert sky, a vast, curve complex complete with boxes for the Hutts, a race announcer's booth, course monitoring equipment, and food stands. Already the stands are beginning to fill, the population of Mos Espa turning out in full force for the event, shops, and stalls closing, and the city is on holiday. Bright streamers and banners fly, and approaching racers flames with the reflection of sunlight and polish.
Qui-Gon catches sight of Anakin appearing through the crowds, riding an eopie with Padmé up behind him, towing one of the massive Radon-Ulzer engines. His friend, Kitster, follows on a second eopie, towing the other engine. The eopies are gangly, long-snouted pack animals with tough, leathery skin and short fur particularly well-suited to resisting the Tatooine desert heat. R2-D2 and C-3PO trail the little procession with the Pod and Shmi. The Jedi Master deliberately turns to watch their approach, drawing Watto's gaze after his own. The Toydarian's eyes glitter at the sight of the boy and the racer.
His Padawan is fumbling at the other side of the shop, shooting uneasy glances at the boy every so often, believing no one sees him and looking away. Displeasure screams off the man through their bond, but there is something else that gives Qui-Gon some hesitation, a shadow lingering over his Padawan that Qui-Gon cannot just recognize, that hasn't been there before.
He is interrupted by his musing when the slaver looks back at Qui-Gon and gives an anxious snort. "No Pod's worth two slaves... not by a long shot! One slave or nothing!"
Qui-Gon folds his arms over his chest. "The boy, then." Watto huffs and shakes his head.
He jerks with the tension; his deliberation generating inside his pudgy blue body. "No, no... " Then abruptly he reaches inside his pocket and produces a small cube, which he tosses from one hand to the other as if it is too hot to hold. "We'll let fate decide. Blue, it's the boy. Red, it's the mother."
Watto cast the cube to the hangar floor. As he does, Qui-Gon makes a small, surreptitious gesture with one hand, calling on his Jedi power to produce a small inflection in the Force.
The cube bounces, rolls, and settles, the blue side facing up. Watto throws up his hands angrily, his eyes turning narrow and sharp.
"You won the toss, outlander!" he sneers in dismissal. "But you won't win the race, so it makes little difference, I think."
"We'll see," Qui-Gon replies calmly.
Anakin and the others reach them, entering the hangar with the Pod and engines. Watto wheels away from Qui-Gon in a huff, pausing long enough to snap irritably at the boy.
"Better stop your friend's betting," he declares with an angry snort, "or I'll end up owning him, too!"
One of the eopies sniffs expectantly at him, and he swears at the beast in Huttese with such ferocity that it backs away. His wings beating madly, Watto gives Qui-Gon a withering glance and flies off into the hangar shadows.
"What did he mean by that?" Anakin asks as he slows the eopie beside Qui-Gon, glancing after the retreating Toydarian.
Qui-Gon shrugs. "I'll tell you later."
Kitster pulls to a stop beside Anakin, his face alight with excitement as he looks around. "This is so wizard! I'm sure you'll do it this time, Annie!"
Padmé's gaze shifts from one to the other. "Do what?" she asks suspiciously.
Kitster beams. "Finish the race, of course!"
The girl pales. Her eyes burn into Anakin. "You've never even won in a race?" she demands incredulously.
The boy blushes. "Well... not exactly." His mouth tightens with determination.
"Not even finished?!" She asks in horror.
"But Kitster's right. I will this time."
Qui-Gon takes the eopie's reins in his hand and pats the boy's leg. "Of course, you will," he agrees.
Padmé Naberrie just stares at him wordlessly, staring at the Jedi Master as if he had just grown a double head. Her people are in danger! And they are relying on someone who never even won a race to get them a kriffing starfighter part?! Oh, they would be having words later!