The Dangerous Games

  of the way. But Anakin had no desire to argue with Ferus again. He didn't

  care about him enough to argue.

  He had more important things to do - like check out the Podracers.

  Anakin told himself that someone on the Jedi teams needed to do so.

  Logically, he was the best candidate. He was the only one who had raced,

  and he was sure to know some of the beings involved. He hadn't raced since

  he was eight years old, six and a half years ago. But the racers tended to

  keep racing, if they weren't killed.

  Of course, Obi-Wan hadn't asked him to check out the Podracers. But he

  had left him free to choose what he wanted to see. Anakin assured himself

  that he wasn't disobeying Obi-Wan by going.

  Still, he didn't want to advertise his plans to his fellow Padawans.

  He could trust Tru, but Ferus was another matter. It would be just like

  Ferus to make a big deal of it.

  "I'll catch up with you later," he told Ferus and Tru. "I have

  something I need to check out first."

  Disappointment clouded Tru's silvery eyes. "Oh?"

  Anakin knew that Tru had been looking forward to spending time with

  him, too. When you made friends among the Jedi, you treasured the times you

  were together because they could be rare.

  Ferus gave him a glance that was more pointed. "Obi-Wan asked you to

  do something?"

  Anakin could not lie. Not even to Ferus. He pretended he had not heard

  him over the noise of the crowd. He turned to go, and Tru leaned over and

  spoke softly in his ear. "Transit Red, end of the line."

  So Tru did know where he was headed.

  "You're a good friend," Anakin said as he dashed off before Ferus

  could say anything more.

  Eusebus had converted its largest air taxis to a free transit system.

  He found Transit Red and hopped aboard. He didn't mind missing the opening

  rituals, which no doubt would be filled with parading teams and boring

  speeches. The real fun was taking place elsewhere

  At the last stop on Transit Red, the buildings ended abruptly. There

  was no gradual thinning of structures. An apartment block ended, the road

  narrowed, and the horizon was before him. There appeared to be nothing in

  sight but bare hills.

  Now what? Anakin wondered as he descended from the air taxi and looked

  from right to left.

  He closed his eyes and summoned the Force. He felt it rise from the

  red dust and bound off the hills back at him. And then he felt the Living

  Force as a wave that gathered momentum and broke over him in a shower of

  light.

  There.

  He took off toward the hills to his left. Well, if this mission was

  supposed to teach him about the Living Force, he doubted there was much to

  learn. Sometimes he thought he was in better touch with the Living Force

  than his Master. Obi-Wan lived in his head. His emotions were reserved.

  Anakin often had no idea what his Master felt or thought. Sometimes he

  seemed to respond to the beings they met on their travels simply as ways to

  get something accomplished. A scrappy pilot with hair-raising stories of

  smuggling tech parts through the Outer Rim systems was just a means to get

  from the Manda spaceport to Circarpous Major. A tavern owner who kept pet

  dinkos was a contact to discover the location of a possible weapons cache.

  A young brother and sister bounty-hunting team was taken along just to

  provide an answer to the mystery of who was behind a Jedi's kidnapping.

  It wasn't that Obi-Wan lacked compassion, Anakin mused. It was just

  that there was a little more distance between him and other living beings.

  Qui-Gon had not been able to pass along his connection to the Living Force

  to his Padawan, Anakin felt.

  Anakin treasured his Master. But sometimes he wondered what it would

  have been like to have Qui-Gon as a Master instead. Would Qui-Gon have

  shared his feelings more easily? Anakin had felt a connection to Qui-Gon

  from the start. It had taken more time with Obi-Wan. It was still taking

  time.

  He reached the hills, which were covered with thorny green bushes and

  small, squat trees. Anakin followed the hillside until he spotted scorch

  marks, then an abandoned hydrospanner. He was close.

  He strode forward ten meters, pushed aside a dense covering of leaves,

  and found the cave opening. He walked inside, already feeling the presence

  of living beings. The cave opened out as he walked. There were two security

  guards, but they were unaware of Anakin's silent tread. Soon the ceiling

  soared a hundred meters over his head.

  He heard the clang of metal. The muffled sound of shouts and curses.

  The whine and sputter of engines being tuned and tweaked. The roar of

  powerful turbines. Someone whistling off-tune and someone else shouting at

  him to stop or he'd shove an oily rag down his slimy throat.

  Anakin smiled. It sounded like home.

  The cave opened out and he saw a makeshift pit hangar set up ahead.

  Podracers were parked haphazardly while beings of every size and

  description and varying degrees of oil-soaked clothing worked on them. Pit

  droids scuttled about, hauling huge lubricant hoses and tugging power cell

  chargers.

  He stopped at the edge and watched for a moment. Hydrospanners clanged

  and macrofusers flew. Someone yelled for a fusioncutter. Some of the

  Podracer pilots sat on elaborate folding chairs, sipping grog or tea and

  keeping a watchful eye on their mechanics. Other pilots, not yet rich

  enough to have someone else to tweak their engines, worked steadily and

  with enormous concentration. The smallest mistake could cause a Podracer to

  turn a fraction too sluggishly, resulting in a spectacular crash.

  Anakin recognized Aldar Beedo, a Glymphid he had raced against several

  times. He was surprised Beedo was still alive, let alone racing. Beedo had

  never been particularly skillful, but he'd been cunning and fearless and

  willing to cheat, and that had made him more successful at Podracing than

  he had any right to be. Anakin would have thought he'd have crashed or been

  run out of the Podraces by this time. Then again, there wasn't much

  policing of Podracing. Race officials attempted to keep some sort of

  control, but Podracers schemed to get away with as much as they could.

  Anakin noticed a Podracer mechanic nearby. He could only see a pair of

  short legs sticking out from underneath while another mechanic stood near

  the console, pushing buttons in what appeared to be a random fashion. The

  two mechanics were Aleenas. He recognized their three-toed feet and bluish

  scaly skin. The Podracer looked familiar. It had been re-painted and

  buffed, but he was sure he recognized it. He took a couple of steps closer.

  "Doby, hand me that hydrospanner, will you? I've almost got this

  fused. Then we can start her up again."

  A hydrospanner twirled through the air, nearly taking off the tip of

  Anakin's nose. A hand reached up from underneath the Podracer and caught

  it.

  "Go ahead and use it, but I'm telling you, Deland, it's not the joint,

  " the mechanic at the console said. "No chance, never ever. If the engine

&
nbsp; overheats during gear switches, it's got to be a sensor problem."

  "But the sensor doesn't show a problem, blope-head."

  "That's the problem, bantha-breath. If you'd just let me finish

  checking out the sensor suite..."

  "I've been doing this longer than you have, baby brother, so slap your

  flapping lips shut."

  "You're only fourteen months older..."

  "Fourteen and a half. And I'm the pilot. You're the mechanic."

  "My point exact - "

  "Got it!" A face stained with grease appeared in a pair of grimy

  welding goggles. Deland sprang to his feet in one motion. "Let's fire her

  up."

  "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Anakin said.

  Doby and Deland peered at him from behind their goggles.

  "And we should listen to you because?" Deland asked.

  Anakin took a step closer. "Because if your engine is overheating

  during gear changes, the problem could be in the current filter. Have you

  used an impulse detector?" The words flowed easily, like a native language

  he had not spoken in years but would never forget.

  "Not that it's your business, but yes," Doby said. "It didn't show

  anything wrong."

  "Then it's definitely the current filter," Anakin said. "It's clogged.

  "

  "Slap it shut, you son of a durkii," Deland warned his brother. "This

  guy could be working for another Podracer. He's just trying to spook us."

  Doby leaned toward his brother and said in a whisper, "Haven't you

  noticed? He's a Jedi."

  "He's a fraud and a fake," Deland hissed. "Sebulba probably hired him.

  "

  Anakin felt a rush of heat that made his face flame. Back on Tatooine,

  Sebulba the Dug had tried to cheat his way to victory in the Boonta Eve

  race and nearly killed Anakin in the process. They had always sparred,

  though Sebulba had never taken him seriously enough to worry about him.

  Until the race on Boonta Eve, when he'd beaten him in an extremely close

  race. "Sebulba is still racing?"

  "Everybody knows that," Deland said. "Now I know you're lying. Doby,

  fire up that engine!"

  "You're going to blow out the intake valves on the turbines," Anakin

  warned.

  In answer, Deland reached over and flipped on the engine. Anakin had

  already stepped out of the way. Aloud explosion blew Deland back onto the

  ground. Doby was almost blasted by a roar of fire from the left turbine.

  Anakin reached over and shut off the engine.

  "I'll be a Kowakian monkey-lizard!" Doby cried. "You were right!"

  Deland picked himself up and dusted off his leggings. "Lucky guess."

  "Are you two related to Ratts Tyerell?" Anakin asked curiously. "I

  think I recognize this Podracer."

  Doby nodded proudly. "He was our father. He died in the great Boonta

  Eve Classic six years ago. Did you know him?"

  "I raced against him in that race," Anakin said. "He was one of the

  fastest. Incredibly quick reflexes." "Not quick enough," Doby said

  sorrowfully.

  "Lying again," Deland said to Anakin. "No human can be a Podracer."

  "One was," Doby said. "A human child. A slave. He won his freedom, and

  after the race he disappeared. His name was - "

  "Anakin Skywalker," Anakin supplied. "Pleased to meet you."

  "Now you're a Jedi?" Doby asked in disbelief. "And you were a slave?"

  "It's a strange galaxy," Anakin said with a grin.

  "Totally true," Doby agreed.

  "Don't want to interrupt this getting-to-know-you gush, but we have a

  job to do," Deland said gruffly.

  "I'll help you if you want," Anakin said spontaneously. He'd love to

  get his hands on a Podracer engine again, but he knew Obi-Wan would

  certainly disapprove.

  "What's in it for you?" Deland asked suspiciously.

  "Who cares?" Doby asked. "He beat Sebulba, Deland! Now we have to." He

  turned to Anakin. "After our father died, we had no money, so our uncle

  sold our sister into slavery. Djulla's master is now Sebulba. We have to

  get her out of his clutches! We bet our Podracer that we'd win. Sebulba bet

  Djulla's freedom. This time, though, he's not racing. His son Hekula is."

  "I'm sorry that your sister is a slave," Anakin said. "Do you know

  Shmi, my mother? She's a slave, too. Or she was, when I saw her last."

  Doby shook his head. "Mos Espa is full of beings. We don't know them

  all."

  Anakin blinked as tears filled his eyes, surprising him. For a moment,

  Shmi had seemed so close. But she was as far away as she always was. He

  turned away quickly, his gaze roaming around the makeshift hangar. He

  didn't see Sebulba. But he did see something familiar - his old Podracer.

  Could it be?

  "Whose Podracer is that?" he asked, pointing it out.

  "Hekula's," Deland said, giving it a glance.

  Yes, it was definitely Anakin's old Podracer, a customized Radon-

  Ulzer. It had been painted and retooled, but he would recognize it

  anywhere. He knew Qui-Gon had sold the Podracer, but not to whom. Sebulba

  must have bought it. Anakin burned at the thought of Sebulba owning the

  Podracer he had built and maintained so lovingly.

  A tall young Dug suddenly moved into Anakin's field of vision. "What

  are you looking at, spy?" he shouted.

  "What I look at is not your concern," Anakin shot back.

  "When it's my Podracer it is," the Dug hissed back. "Spy!"

  "It's Hekula," Doby warned Anakin in a whisper. "Be careful."

  Anakin looked at Sebulba's son carefully. He felt the dark side of the

  Force shimmer off him. He had taken after his father, that was clear.

  A movement caught his eye. Another Dug had scuttled across the

  distance toward him.

  Anakin found himself face-to-face with his old enemy, Sebulba.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Anakin's fingers itched for his lightsaber. The last time Sebulba had

  threatened him, he'd been just a child and untrained. Now he could dispatch

  Sebulba before the Dug could manage to blink.

  But he saw immediately that Sebulba didn't recognize him. His gaze was

  hostile, but the hostility wasn't personal. He had no idea that Anakin was

  the young slave boy who had humiliated him in a race years before.

  Anakin smiled again.

  The smile infuriated Sebulba. "What are you smiling at? And how dare

  you bully my son!"

  "He's wasn't bullying me, Father," Hekula whined in Huttese. "I am

  bullying him!"

  "You were doing a very poor job of it," Anakin answered in Huttese.

  "But that doesn't surprise me."

  "How dare you!" Sebulba roared. "Prepare to die!"

  Deland quickly moved between them. "Who's talking about dying?" he

  said in a jovial tone. "Let's save that for the Podrace. Right, Hekula? I'd

  worry about crashing more than spies, if I were you. I've seen you race!"

  Hekula's long head thrust toward Deland. "You'll choke on my dust, son

  of a Raft!"

  Sebulba was more clever than his son. He grinned craftily and shot a

  look at Djulla, who was standing by Hekula's Podracer, preparing a snack

  for the two Dugs. "I hope you're alive to see your sister wipe the floor

  under our feet," he hissed. "For the next fifty years!"

  Anakin and De
land both tensed, ready to strike. In Sebulba's taunt

  Anakin heard every cruelty he and his mother had ever endured.

  Doby grabbed the hems of Anakin's and Deland's tunics. "Just let them

  go," he murmured. "We'll win the race. That is our better best revenge."

  Anakin saw Deland's hand clench and unclench. His own fingertips

  burned to slip his lightsaber from its sheath.

  "Let's leave the cowards to their play," Sebulba sneered. He and

  Hekula slithered off, their footfalls clattering on the stony ground.

  Deland wiped his oily hands with a rag viciously, as though wiping

  away the memory of Sebulba's taunt. "We've got to beat them. We've got to."

  "He's fast," Doby said, watching Hekula and Sebulba return to their

  entourage. A look of pain crossed his face as Djulla handed Hekula a cup of

  juma juice and Hekula spat it out while shouting an insult. "He's just as

  cruel and dangerous as his father. Maybe more so, because he takes more

  chances."

  Temptation loomed before Anakin. He could help Doby and Deland beat

  Hekula. He knew it. It was not part of his mission here. But Obi-Wan had

  allowed him to have free time. What better way to use it than free a slave