Chapter 2: Boska, Ootmian (Let's Go, Outlander)
"Are you sure about this? Trusting our fate to a boy we hardly know? The Queen will not approve."
"The Queen doesn't need to know," Qui-Gon says over his shoulder to the disgruntled handmaiden as he pushes his way through the crowd.
"Well, I don't approve," Padmé mutters. She follows in his wake, allowing him to clear a path for her through the throng. Qui-Gon just glances at her over his shoulder. It hardly matters now whether she or her sovereign approve of Qui-Gon's actions—the bet has already been placed. All that's left is to find a good vantage point to watch the games and wait for young Anakin, their unlikely benefactor, to join them. The boy had said that he would find them inside, as enslaved sentients were not allowed to use the arena's main entrance. Qui-Gon privately thinks that it is likely that those in bondage, like droids, are not allowed in the arena at all, at least not without their owner, and Ani is really finding a way to sneak in.
The boy is surprising, for more than one reason. Qui-Gon had not expected to find a latent Force-sensitive child on this barren world, but he wouldn't be the first Jedi to encounter one on a mission. Not all younglings in the crèche came there by way of Jedi seekers.
The real surprise is that the boy clearly had training. He had reached out to Qui-Gon in the Force, and upon realizing that Qui-Gon was aware of his scrutiny, had retreated behind rudimentary shields, though not quickly enough for Qui-Gon to miss his apprehension. Qui-Gon regrets scaring the boy with his own overture in the Force. He could have handled that more delicately.
Qui-Gon wonders who trained Anakin, but knows better than to ask. It would only make the boy more suspicious of his intentions. The answer may yet be revealed to him.
Or Qui-Gon could be forced to continue the mission at hand without learning anything more about little Ani. Qui-Gon knows that time is of the essence for the queen and her people, but he still hopes that he might learn more about the boy. There is something about Anakin, something that told Qui-Gon that he could trust the boy's plan, which is admittedly risky—betting what credits they have on an arena fighter called Hell Hunter who is competing in the gladiatorial games that are part of the Boonta Eve celebrations.
The odds on Anakin's chosen fighter are not as good as some of the others, but that hardly gives Qui-Gon pause. Longer odds means a bigger payout if the fighter wins. Not to mention that the arena's betting office is one of the very few places that would reluctantly accept their credits, though at a truly terrible exchange rate. Qui-Gon reassures himself with that knowledge as Padmé sulkily takes a seat in the section he chose for them.
The three fights they are forced to sit through before Hell Hunter is up are brutal, which Qui-Gon had anticipated. He knows these Outer Rim gladiatorial arenas by reputation, though he has never actually seen the games himself. He watches to get a sense of the terrain and the procedure for the fights. He's not sure why Padmé watches—she clearly disdains every minute of it. Qui-Gon wonders if Padmé knows that most of the sentients in the ring are enslaved beings or prisoners who have no choice in their participation. The female Twi'lek that was killed by a nexu in the second bout carried no weapons and had no armor, and Qui-Gon is certain that it was meant to be an execution, though he cannot understand the Huttese the announcer is speaking. He decides not to mention this; it would only sour Padmé's mood further if she does not already know of the practice.
Anakin only joins them in the third fight, which is enough to convince Qui-Gon that he is indeed not supposed to be here. He will not be at all surprised if the boy makes his excuses to leave immediately after Hell Hunter's match.
Ani plops down in the seat Padmé saved for him and immediately begins chattering away at her, telling her about the gambling odds, Boonta Eve traditions, his adventures as a budding pilot and mechanic, and a dozen other things. Qui-Gon allows himself a little smile. The boy's regard for the pretty handmaiden is sweet, and Padmé is very kindly indulging him.
Qui-Gon is also glad that they have something to occupy their attention besides the fight, in which a Trandoshan is systematically taking apart a Gamorrean with a vibroblade. There is quite a lot of blood on the sand by the time the Trandoshan is declared victorious. The Gamorrean is still alive, but the crowd is not pleased with his performance, and the arbiter's final decision goes against him. The Trandoshan finishes him with a slash to the throat, and the crowd roars its approval. Qui-Gon notices that Padmé averts her face from the scene, but Anakin watches with wide eyes, biting his lip.
Qui-Gon looks on, disgusted with the bloodlust he can feel from the crowd and saddened at the utter waste of life these games perpetuate. He is glad now that Ani had made it clear that Hell Hunter specializes in beasts. He is not sure he could stomach betting on a man who may win by butchering a sentient opponent.
The sand is cleared and Anakin's voice trails off as the emcee announces the next bout. His attention turns fully to the arena. The boy is on the edge of his seat, fidgety in anticipation for this fight. He has forgotten to reinforce his shields and is leaking anxiety into the Force. Qui-Gon knows better now than to attempt to send him calming energy, as that would likely only make him more nervous, but he wishes he could. He did not anticipate that the child would be so invested in Hell Hunter's match. Perhaps he is worried that his fighter will lose and Qui-Gon and Padmé will blame him for their loss. Or perhaps…he knows this fighter personally.
Hell Hunter is announced, and the fighter strides into the arena. He is a human or near-human male adorned in light armor that appears to have been assembled piecemeal from whatever he could find—he sees scraps of metal, plastoid, leather, even what appears to be bone. Qui-Gon wonders if the man is enslaved, forced by an uncaring owner to see to his own protection in the arena.
The man raises a long spear to the crowd, which cheers his acknowledgement. And then his opponent is introduced—by a loud shrilling sound.
Qui-Gon watches with a sinking feeling as something spiky, green, and very, very large is forced from a tunnel into the arena. The creature shrills again, dancing away from the beast handlers' static pikes on durasteel-hard claws and snapping long, razor-sharp teeth. Qui-Gon hears Padmé's sharp intake of breath, sees Anakin's wide eyes and white knuckles as he grips the edge of his seat.
"What is that?" Padmé asks, and Qui-Gon can hear the horror in her voice.
"It's an acklay," he tells her. "An amphibious predator native to Vendaxa. They are…very dangerous." Qui-Gon has seen one only once before, in its natural habitat. He had watched as it speared a lemnai, cracked open its tough shell, and feasted on its innards. He really hopes that he's not about to witness a repeat of that experience.
"I've never seen one of those before," Anakin says, a slight tremor in his voice. Qui-Gon again wishes he could soothe the child's fears, but he restrains himself, turns his focus instead to the match.
The acklay has caught sight of its challenger now, and rushes toward him. Though Qui-Gon estimates the man to be of average size for a human, next to the acklay, he appears insignificant.
His abilities, though, are not insignificant at all. The man does not meet the acklay's charge, but instead dodges, light and lithe on his feet, turning the acklay aside with his spear. He sidesteps a heavy claw that would have speared right through him and jabs at the beast's soft belly. The creature shrieks.
As the match goes on, Qui-Gon sees that the man is fully in control of this fight. He ducks, weaves, dances and dodges rather than meet the acklay's attacks head on, which is smart. The creature is far too large, fast and strong for a human to directly defend against. The man leads the beast in circles around the arena, and with every evasion, he thrusts his spear into a vulnerable part of the creature—its belly, long neck, or the space where the neck and carapace are joined. The acklay is soon bleeding from several small wounds.
Following his intuition, Qui-Gon opens himself up to the Force, observing the way it shifts around the combatants. Though he is far from the action and the many people in the crowd are loud in the Force, almost drowning him out, Qui-Gon can just sense the way the gladiator bends the Force around him, making his reflexes quicker, his leaps farther, his spear more accurate. The man is Force-sensitive, and he is well-trained. The Force flows through him as a natural extension of his physical body. It is rather beautiful to watch. Qui-Gon idly wonders what the man would be like with a lightsaber in his hand.
The battle wears on, the acklay growing slower with every prick of the spear. Qui-Gon with his long experience of evaluating fighters can see that the man is tiring too, his motions not quite as quick and graceful as they were at the beginning, though the Force is still strong with him. That is, until the man jams his spear just under the acklay's carapace and the creature rears back onto its hind claws, wrenching the spear from his grasp. The acklay takes the spear in its wide jaws and pulls it from its flesh, then snaps the spear in two with one powerful bite.
With that, the gladiator has lost the advantage of the spear's reach. He goes for the vibroblade strapped to his thigh, but the acklay doesn't give him a chance to use it. The man retreats before the beast's dangerous claws and teeth. He tries to buy himself some time by putting a stone pillar used for stringing up criminals or in supporting scenery between him and the creature, but the acklay slams itself against the pillar, knocking it clean over. The fighter is forced to dive away from the falling rock. As he rolls, the acklay catches him with a powerful swing from its foreclaw, and the man flies halfway across the arena to lie in a heap against the wall.
The crowd is wild with bloodlust, screaming and cheering. When he glances over to check on his two charges, Qui-Gon sees that Anakin is clinging to Padmé's hand, face white. Qui-Gon can feel his fear, thick as smoke.
Their fighter is rising, and far more quickly than Qui-Gon would have expected after a blow like that, but the acklay is charging even faster. The beast foregoes the use of its claws in favor of its snapping jaws this time. The man uses the wall as support in standing, and at the last minute, rolls along the wall away from the gnashing teeth. But he does not go too far. His arm flashes out and the creature rears back, roaring in pain. There is a hole where its right eye used to be. The vibroblade in the man's hand is red with blood.
The man must finish the beast quickly now if he is to win the bout, and Qui-Gon wonders how he is going to do that without his spear. The fighter does not hesitate though. While the acklay is still reeling with pain, he jumps—using the Force just enough—vaults off one of its legs and lands on the spiny carapace. He avoids the head swinging around toward him by dropping flat to the creature's back, then raises the vibroblade and plunges it down into the join where the neck extends from the carapace.
The acklay shrieks, rising all the way up onto its back claws, waving its foreclaws in the air, then comes down hard. The momentum throws their fighter over its front shoulder, and as he is still holding onto the blade, his falling weight carves a deep path down the acklay's front. He lands hard on his back just under the beast, and is forced to roll about on the ground in an effort to dodge all six claws as the creature writhes in pain. When he finally regains his feet, the man hacks at the claws—not the hardened ends, but the places where they meet the body, severing tendons.
The acklay stumbles and finally retreats, limping, trying to get away from the fighter. The man pursues, blade raised in front of him, but the creature folds in on itself, bringing its claws in close around it and curling its neck, turning the shielding crest on its head to face its attacker. It is an effective defense, hiding all soft and vulnerable parts beneath layers of its tough natural armor, but also means that it can no longer move without exposing itself.
The fighter stops, chest heaving with exertion, and looks up toward the sponsors' box, searching for a signal that the fight is over. Sure enough, a blue light is ignited, declaring the victory his.
The arena erupts in cacophonous adulation. Ani is jumping up and down in excitement, still clinging to Padmé's hand. Even the handmaiden is cheering, disapproval of the games momentarily forgotten. Qui-Gon smiles, folding his shaking hands under his poncho, and watches the victorious gladiator, covered in the blood of his foe, raise his red blade to the crowd, accepting the adoration of the masses. It certainly made for quite the picture of barbaric splendor.
That really had been an amazing fight; it is no wonder the spectators are so happy with his performance. But their fighter is not unscathed. As the beast handlers run out to tranquilize the injured acklay and drag it back to its enclosure, the man makes his way to another exit. Qui-Gon can see that his gait is slightly uneven, and he seems to be holding his right arm still and close to his side as well. Qui-Gon is willing to bet that not all of the blood staining his armor and tunic belongs to the acklay. The fighter remains upright and confident, however, as he exits the arena, leaving as firm an impression of strength as he can. For the first time, Qui-Gon wonders what kind of medical care the fighters like this man can expect to receive. Likely it depends on the whim of their owner, if they are enslaved. He hopes that this man will be allowed the means to heal, whether he is enslaved or not.
Anakin interrupts Qui-Gon from his musings by tugging on his poncho. "I've got to go now, out the other way. The emcee just announced that a sandstorm has been detected heading this way, so they're breaking until the storm is over. You can collect your winnings later, but you should find shelter now. Do you have somewhere safe?"
"We'll head back to our ship," Qui-Gon replies, but wonders how close the sandstorm is.
"Is it far?"
"It's on the outskirts," Padmé replies.
"You'll never reach the outskirts in time. Sandstorms are very, very dangerous. You should come with me to my place and wait it out. This one shouldn't last long, only a few hours, max. Meet me at the corner of the square and we'll go."
"That's a very generous offer, my young friend. We will do as you suggest."
As Anakin dashes off, Qui-Gon can't help but feel pleased that he has a good excuse to spend a few more hours in the company of this boy. It's an intriguing mystery, to find two Force-sensitives with some kind of connection to each other on this backwater planet, both with at least some training in the use of the Force, possibly by a member of his own Order.
Unfortunately, with the situation on Naboo growing more desperate by the day, he only wonders if he will be allowed to do anything at all to help these two.
"So your boy just picks up Qui-Gon Jinn on the side of the road, gives him some insider gambling tips, and then brings him home with him for dinner?"
"Essentially, yes."
"…"
"Anakin brings home junk parts, stray tookas, supposedly deactivated undetonated landmines—don't ask—krayt dragon eggs, a Jawa that got accidentally left behind by his clan, assorted prosthetic body parts, and most of a defunct protocol droid. Why not a stranded Jedi too?"
"Yeah, sure. Why not."
"Believed this meeting to be the will of the Force, Qui-Gon did. Agree, do you?"
"It certainly was fortunate they met Ani when they did. Otherwise Queen Amidala might still be stranded on Tatooine."
"To the queen's plight, Qui-Gon was not referring. Spoke to you, did he, of the prophecy?"
"No, I'm not familiar with any prophecy."
"Believed, Qui-Gon did, that young Anakin the Chosen One of prophecy is. Bring balance to the Force, the Chosen One shall."
"But what makes him think that Anakin is this Chosen One?"
"Hoping, we were, that shed light on this you could."
"Then perhaps I should continue my tale."
"Kenobi, why do I feel like this story just gets crazier?"
"Master Windu, as a respected Jedi Master and Master of the Order, I'm sure that you have found it necessary to hone your senses to be able to pick up on…a certain degree of crazy."
"Mhmhmhm!"
"Master Yoda, as a respected Jedi Master and Grand Master of the Order, I'm sure that you know when it is and is not appropriate to have a laugh at the expense of the Master of the Order, which is never, because I happen to have the power to assign you to the next mission to Hoth."
"Nice this time of year, I hear Hoth is."
"My finely tuned senses are detecting more crazy, Grand Master."
"Impertinent as a youngling, you are."
"Oho, look at the nerf calling the bantha scruffy."
"Um, Masters? Do I need to call a crèchemaster to mediate this dispute?"
"Just tell us what happens next, Kenobi, before Master Yoda talks himself into a year of overseeing the Temple sanitation team."
"Hmph!"
"…Yes, Master Windu."
Author's note: The name Hell Hunter is pretty dumb, I know. But it's kind of supposed to be? I mean, he's a gladiator on a Hutt-controlled planet, I see the sobriquets being pretty cheesy. I don't know, he didn't choose it. ;P
Also, sorry, Mace, the story just got started. You have a lot more of Yoda's nonsense to put up with. XD
ln(^_^)