Chapter 1: Self-taught
If you don't know how nature or a great power decided to play a joke on the Jews, then you are out of luck, for in this galaxy the Jews are such a strange race, the Toidarians. A fat man with a scary face and wings that he uses to move above the earth.
Why "Jew" all of a sudden, you ask? And you try to talk to him for more than five seconds and any native of our humble planet will have in his mind the image of a smart peddler, typical in appearance and with a local colloquialism. No, Watto didn't speak Hebrew, but that didn't change anything - his habit of selling anything, of answering a question with a question, of always being busy with some commercial business of his own.... Yes, definitely Watto was canonical to the point of being anecdotally Jewish. Even if Israel is unimaginably many parsecs away, it doesn't change the character. And the habit of incorporating words from his native tongue into his speech is characteristic.
How did these thoughts come into my head? Very simple. I'm Anakin Skywalker, slave, property, and fetch-and-deliver for this flappy merchant. Though, by the way, fetch-and-die is a different matter, since I appeared in this place, which is extremely reminiscent of a Middle Eastern country, where there are shahs, emirs, and other kings, and there are slaves or just concubines, since then I have learnt a lot about technology. And the ability to fix an iron on the ground, which can also be referred to as "knowledge of technology" and what is meant by these words in this galaxy are two big differences.
Chapter 1.
Consciousness was somewhere. Seriously, like it was blurring all over the universe, yes, so much so that it became scary for a second, but after a while, it suddenly went away.
It smelled like dust. Yes, perhaps, dust, sand, a little clay, in general, the smell is ordinary, so it is easy to get used to it, but only being, so to speak, here, but after the strange sensation of the universe, this smell literally fell on me, like thunder in the midst of the quiet hum of rain, like a flash of lightning after a dark sky.
Smelling the odour, I opened my eyes and saw ....
The ceiling. Apparently. Clay. Well, this place isn't very nice.
My next thought was, "where am I?" I didn't drink, I didn't smoke, I was so calm about my life. But here it was. The first thing I did was to get up from my-- the hard and uncomfortable bunk.
It was quiet. There was a buzzing somewhere in the house. It must have been the old droid's servos going bad again, that's why it buzzes every time I move like....
"Freeze! What the hell are servos and what the hell is a droid?" - I thought, looking around.
Luckily or unluckily, I knew what servos I was thinking of - old ones, found among the rubbish in Watto's shop. I built the droid myself. And my name is. Anakin Skywalker.
That "happy" thought made me want to bang my head against the clay wall. Yes, it was my head, and it was the wall - after I remembered everything Anakin remembered....
A child, but still, he knew a lot and understood more than I did. Slavery isn't sitting on your arse in front of a monitor, killing years of your life on some vkontaktic....
I am Anakin Skywalker, ten years old. I'm a slave who works at Watto's shop, which sells junk and not-so-junk.
- Anakin! - A woman's voice came from the next room. Breakfast.
Here we go. Now I have to meet my mother. Anakin's memory quickly conjured up an image of a woman in her forties with some warm feelings. Anakin loved his mother, and now I love her. Yeah. it turns out I'm not the only one here, and Ani never moved out. That's interesting!
- Coming, Mum! - I shouted, and hurried off to do my morning exercise in the form of a body inventory. Anakin's a little small and puny, and he's a bit of a snot. I'll have to do something about it, especially since I'm now obliged to be diligent in my self-improvement. But the first thing to do is to find out what time it is. Or maybe I'm dreaming I'm Skywalker. Or is Skywalker dreaming that I'm Skywalker? Or... hmm. I've seen this somewhere before. Let's call it the butterfly problem for the record. But what I'm feeling is very real, I'm sure it's not a dream. And there's no pain in a dream, and I had no trouble pinching myself. I'm awake. So I'm Anakin Skywalker, a slave on the planet Tatooine, and right now it occurred to me that I might as well do my best, and if the Medichlorians from the film have created such pandemonium in my bloodstream as Yoda had, I should try and take advantage of the forcing. Or, at the very least, start trying, you can't live the way you've been living so far.
I stepped out of my cubbyhole into the hallway-living room. A slave shack is not a luxury hotel, or even a holiday cottage, it's a total disaster, but I tried not to complain. Honestly I tried.
Mum gave me the usual hug and said:
- "Here, Ani, breakfast. And hurry up to Watto, he doesn't like to wait.
- Okay, mum, - I said in a long forgotten voice and mum rubbed me on the head and left in an unknown direction.
Breakfast was just like the rest of this planet - disgusting, but slaves can't complain. So, having stuffed myself with the marvels of local cookery, I hastily put on my shoes and followed the memory to Watto's. As I sank into a pensive state, getting used to my new and incomprehensible Anakin Skywalker state, my feet brought me to the right place.
Entering the shop to the chime of a bell, I caught the attention of Watto. Well... it won't be long before I'm used to the local races. The Toydarian was flapping his wings and hovering above the floor, picking up a pile of junk.
- Anakin, you're just in time today. Get this place sorted out, and take anything you can sell for cheap back to the warehouse," he said to me, tossing the part he was examining into the pile, and then he went off into the back room. Yeah.
Watto was speaking in his own Thodarian. Anakin must have learnt his winged owner's language well enough to understand such fluent speech. I wasn't surprised, either, but it was unusual to know the languages of winged humanoids.
I approached the pile of iron - it looked like someone had got rid of the rubbish in the shed, and now I should separate the flies from the cutlets.
I got to the task at once, gradually and recognising the details. Engine wreckage from the car, parts of various droids, pieces of plating from the ship.... Not a bad ship, you could say pieces of armour from a warship. But the armour was of high quality, light and damn strong. I can't remember the name of the metal, but this scrap metal should be brought back, it'll come in handy. I put it away.
After half an hour of my activity, there were two piles - rubbish and conventionally valuable goodies.
I started hauling the second one to the warehouse. I harnessed the droids to do it, and I harnessed myself.
Watto's warehouse was combined with a workshop, where I and a couple of repair droids worked.
The droids turned out to be extremely dull-witted and arbitrary. I remember in the film, a couple of them had achieved "stunning" results when an idiot racer decided to save the team a pit stop.
Watto was still grumbling for a long time, flying around, but didn't get in the way of work, so I moved that junk into storage and asked the patron:
- Anything else?
- No, you can go to your workshop. Just don't go anywhere! - He waved his paw at me and turned away, staring at some papers.
Without objecting, I went to the good old workshop I had seen. Its smell alone was inexpressible and recognisable to me. Old oil, iron, piles of electronics, a half-finished droid polyglot sitripio... judging by the stage of readiness, there's still plenty of time before the esteemed Jedi visit... Should I attempt self-improvement alone, or wait for a teacher? Ani's experience said to wait, but the Earthman's experience said not to delay. If you want to live, you've got to keep moving, that's the way it is. Although I'm in no danger, I should try harder.
My desire to try immediately stung as much as the soldering iron I'd grabbed carelessly. The power. It's hard to feel, but as Yoda said, which I remember well - "the force is everywhere" and "I will feel the force". Basically, all valuable instruction ends there - just "feel it".
It was hard to feel it, but it was felt. Clearly felt like... I can't put it into words. Like a sixth sense, and including intuition, telepathy, or even clairvoyance. Something in between. I guess young Ani didn't know about the power, but simply relied on it, thanks to it, and raced carriages that pale in comparison to any
formula one from the ground. Yeah, it looks fun, considering all the artificial obstacles that are put in front of the racers here. Anakin's reaction was the first thing I witnessed, and not as a reaction to something I'd already seen - it was while carrying parts, I was carrying three awkward parts from a moisture trap, but one of them slipped out of my hands. I briefly picked it up, directing my hand so that it would meet the part at the right time and place. It's like in a computer game - I knew, felt how the part was falling, so it was easy to grab it - even when it just slipped off, I already felt where I could intercept it and in what position it would be. And even the weight, knew everything... Skywalker used to put it down to his reactions, but reactions aren't the same - I didn't even see the iron! I just caught it, and the Force helped me do it. Hmm. yeah, that was definitely the one, which makes sense. It also made sense that Anakin hadn't been a youngling, but had gone straight to padawan - he could already feel the Force, and not bad if, like in the film, he could anticipate what Windu was showing him... And no one would have propagandised the Republic to a Tatooine slave. It would be embarrassing. Or it would be a scandal, and no one wants to lose their teacher's authority.
That's how I got, or rather, found out that I had power after all. I didn't assemble the droid yet, but pushing away from the chair a set of servo drives of a good old car, which I also assembled myself (dodgy hands, what can you do...), I sat down and tried to do the cherished thing. Meditate. It didn't work very well - thoughts still came into my head, but I took the lotus pose, or rather a parody of it, sat stubbornly and courageously and closed my eyes and tried to feel the power.
On the plus side, at least I knew for sure that it was there, and even felt something like that all the time. All that was left was to reach for that feeling and try to feel it....
* Three months later *
- Anakin, you're late tonight. - Watto looked up at me, but when he saw no remorse, he sighed heavily and said, "Fuck it, it's been quiet for a week anyway. Everybody's running around with these car races. Nobody cares about the junk dealer... They'll be selling junk to place their bets! - he exclaimed hopefully and looked at me:
- I hope you won't take part?
- My car isn't ready yet. But in the next race, I'll probably take part.... - I nodded, displeasing Watto:
- Suit yourself, suit yourself. You have a pretty good reaction time and since you haven't killed yourself yet, so be it.
I went to my workshop. Watto was a good master, not much work and not much demand, just fiddling with machinery, trying to make something of value out of the rubbish.
In the last few days, however, my activity had decreased considerably, as I spent my time meditating. I don't know if it's because I'm a medichlorian or something else, but I've been able to feel the power clearly enough after two weeks of daily training. It's always there, everywhere, like air, or rather radiation, or even a gopher. You can't see it, but it's there.
The power was like water, draughty, flowing through everything in the world. And through me too, especially through me. I was proud of it - not only did I feel it, but I made my first tentative attempts to move something with it. The whole day was wasted yesterday because of that - the power didn't work at first, but I tried again, changing my approach. Changing until I tried to imagine a very important moment from the film - when the bad me strangled an imperial general. Yes, the strangling was good, but this isn't the place. It smells of dust and oil and old iron. There's a clay chair under the seat, and there's all sorts of working electronics crackling and humming around. Well, it's also very hot, but I gradually got used to the heat. Anyway, it's not a film. It's not a film.
This is reality. Imagining myself as a kind of "invisible hand" like economists, I tried to lift the battery into the air. Yes, I failed at the first time, but the "invisible hand" approach proved itself - I managed to feel this very hand. Overjoyed, I started to try again, and again... until the battery could not be moved a little. A little, but it has already caused a storm of delight on my part, what can you do - a personality with some strange quirks half-child, half-adult. It's hard to separate the two, though, because Skywalker's childhood is still a childhood, and adults are just like children, only bigger and with different toys. I tried it again, and the battery moved obediently, rolling across the table. It fell sideways and rolled... and rolled off the table. Instinctively grabbing it by force, I squeezed it too hard, and it crumpled into a lump, completely ruined. You have to be gentler.
I tried it again, but it didn't work. Again I succeeded only on the third attempt, but this time the "hand" was an open palm, on which I slowly lifted up the remains of the heroically dead battery.
Having died a brave death in the noble cause of my experiments with force, it was solemnly buried in an urn. By force, I was too lazy to get up from my seat, considering that my legs were quickly getting stiff from the uncomfortable position. It took me a few more days of experimenting with telekinesis before I could lift the object properly. Confidently, without a hitch. The difference in weight... let's just say, yodelling rights - there isn't one. Telekinesis doesn't know the concept of mass, so I was able to lift very large objects found in an open warehouse, or rather parts piled up in the backyard, with the same ease.
While I was looking for ways to use my new ability, I went to the holonet. Looking for... lightsabers. Yes, those. They were originally a common weapon in Lucas's saga, but then the screenwriters decided to give them only to the Forcers to make them stand out from the rest. Whether the technology is public or secret is a separate question. At least, no one has ever seen one, although I witnessed a couple of scuffles with shooting blasters.
To collect myself a weapon was art great, because to anticipate such a thing as a shot from a blaster was for me quite realistic. I was not a weakling, but a normal boy with Yoda's strength. Potentially. And such parameters gave me advantages over other beginners, and although I had little desire to become a Jedi, I had to master the force. Even if it was a Jedi. It turned out to be the golden mean. Lightsabers had been used for many millennia, and many people had them, not only under the Jedi council, but also renegades and their followers, like all sects of "witches"... what kind of secrecy we're talking about if the first renegade declassifies the blueprints. Not complicated, by the way. In terms of wiring diagrams, a teapot is more complicated, or rather similar.
And so began the first serious training. The sword turned out to be quite a simple device, but it was difficult to create something worthwhile. It needed a hilt, a fuse, an emitter matrix, a lens system, a power unit, a power source, and a recharging connector. Completing the picture was the focusing crystal itself. Prices at the holonet flea market were small, everything except the crystal could be bought for a thousand credits - the handle was not complicated, I'm not talking about the button at all, the emitter was a useful thing in industrial business - cutters were built on similar technology and stood in every astrodroid, but those didn't suit me. Lenses and power system - no discussion, there is such a constructor that you can buy, straight from the factory already ready version. Very good and expensive are those energy systems that are used in implantology, in prostheses. But considering I'm a slave on Tatooine...
And there was a whole article why I shouldn't play with such things - the arch, or simply "blade" of the sword, had a strong gyroscopic effect, while all the physical weight in the sword was concentrated in the hilt. This already felt more than strange, and to swing the sword left and right would require incredibly powerful arms, let alone cutting off something vital was easy. But am I a technician or am I out for a walk? So what if swords aren't used and people prefer blasters, who cares?
The first thing I did was to put the datapad aside and start pacing the room, thinking about how to get such a powerful weapon. Assemble it, of course! But how to find all the parts? Let's say the hilt is easy to make - droids for what? Just make the necessary programme-model and give them the material, and these tin cans will figure out what to saw off and where to melt. Next on the list is the power button. Even simpler. The lens system. you can get it from a droid. It's cheap and cheap. Especially since you can tweak it with a file if you need to.
There was nothing complicated in the design, just a portable projector, which projected the light created by the crystal in a limited space, creating an arc, but...
But as always, there's a "but." To create your own light saber, you have to adjust the parts on a molecular level, slowly and carefully. The holonet said that the Jedi do this with their mystical powers. And in the second film, it was said that a light saber can be assembled in two days. If you really have to and know how.
The first thing I did was to put the datapad away and sit down to meditate again - to feel not only the power, but to somehow affect the metal with it. Or any material at all.
If it said it could, it was possible. Probably.
*after a long time*
I don't know the approach, so I spent a long time trying to solder the two wires together. I kept working with power on a more primitive level, trying new theories. Gradually, my skills improved enough to manage such a small amount of force, so that a month after I started the force-soldering, I got results. It turned out to be much simpler than my first ideas - force is everywhere, right? Which means objects are imbued with force. Wiring "a" has force in it, just like a current, and wiring "b" has force in it too, it runs through it. To solder two wires so that there is no seam left, it is only necessary to combine the power in them, literally to merge them together, having first connected the wires themselves. I managed to make my first step in the art of influencing the physical world with the help of force - except for the fact that after the heroically dead battery, I did not relax, but began to use telekinesis in my work with renewed vigour. Considering my build and height, it was damn convenient not to climb a stepladder, but to reach by force. Or just to drag a mountain of small parts, picking them all up at once. As time passed and I used the ability, it grew stronger, but I didn't take it for granted - I had to encrypt myself. In the film, I wonder if Anakin had it as easy to master it all. There was no mention of that, but it was about how powerful and promising he was in the first part and how he grew up in the second. It's sad. Yeah, yeah, sad. I hope I don't fall in love with this strange lady. My aversion to politicians will hopefully keep the part of my soul that can be tentatively called "local", Anakin, from falling in love with this wench.
After getting a couple of dozen wires soldered together in the workshop, I went further in the art of using the force. More precisely in my crazy and probably in some places dangerous experiments - I soldered a bolt. Just soldered it to the metal monolithically. It was simple - the gap between the materials is small, so that the part of the force that settled in the bolt, dissolved in the part that was in the metal. Now the construction is unbreakable, and the droid that will disassemble it will have to be repaired - it will have a CPU freeze.
*Six months later
The light saber is ready! Yes, finally! And I've tried hard to make my hands not as weak as they were before - I've been training constantly, both in the art of force control and just physically.
Initially I planned to make a sword hilt with the help of droids, but then, by common sense and to test my skills, I cut off a piece of previously stolen armour by force and gradually softened it, giving the force inside a shape, removing the force outside, so that it would not affect my precise, jewellery work. The metal became like plasticine by feel and I rolled it into a cylinder and made hollows for the buttons, the power element, for the previously prepared construction from lenses and crystal. It remained only to insert all this goodness into the construction. Indeed, it was difficult to work on a molecular level, but for a guy who assembled his race car without any power, it really wasn't difficult to assemble such a thing. "Easy" took five and a half months of work - first I experimented with controlling the force inside the metal, then with fitting the parts, as there was a lot of old junk in Watto's warehouse. Then I experimented with the metal again... And then I had to find the parts. Anakin already knew where and what to find, except for the crystal. The lenses had been shared with an old scout droid - the lenses were great, though that was all that was good in that bucket of nuts. The power cell is not a question at all - any technique has it, all that's left is to attach the power pack and the charging socket. It should be enough for a month of continuous work. It's the same as in the small droids, just half a handful.
Lastly, I even tightened the hilt in desert lizard skin, which absorbs moisture very well. Now the sword wouldn't slip out of my hands if my palms got sweaty.
Once assembled, I looked at my creation. The sword will be beautiful, even a little stylish, given its white leather hilt and chrome-plated look, just to my earthling taste. It smells so "light" it stings my eyes. The skills of working with metal were acquired and, by the way, the assembly of this object, which took a month of work, was a very good training.
Having finished with it, I again went to the holonet, now for detailed explanations. It revealed details. Clearly official data - no one would assemble complex (without the use of force) weapons, if there is a blaster - long-range, high-speed, convenient and so native to all law enforcers and smugglers.
Having finished my first sword, except for the most expensive one - the crystal, I flicked the power button, closed the lid and put the valuable thing on the shelf. Thanks to the power, I was able to work with metal with amazing precision, which I'll be honest, as a technician, I liked. The training in controlling the force was also excellent, especially the meditation on the half-finished piece, which allowed me to concentrate on the object itself. I took one last look at the item and began my immediate work. Since no one paid the slave, there was no point in using power in the work, but as a training it was invaluable - I disassembled the old droid, shovelled the parts, removed sand, dust, rust, lubricated where necessary, reassembled, started. The droid's good as new, and that's in an hour's work. Wotto sincerely believes that it takes me all day to do such a thing, so there's plenty of free time in the workshop. When I handed over the working droid, which was probably in better condition than new, I earned praise and a few credits as a bonus. The droid would be a hundred times more expensive, but for a slave any money is bread. I went to the spaceport and continued my "relatively honest" robbery of money and valuables from strangers. I need money badly, I need it badly! Where can I get it? Mos Eisley is probably the largest settlement on Tatooine, and definitely one of the most important havens for smugglers and bandits. There's no law enforcement, so if anything happens, bodies in the sand and loose ends in the water. Or the local authorities like Jabba the Hut will sort it out if it's really serious. So.
My first victim was a drunken smuggler. He looked like a smuggler, and they always carry a blaster on their belt.
The money here was ordinary - a special chip protected from all attempts to forge it, which contained information on monetary units, credits. The credits themselves existed not only as numbers on a bank account, but as a virtual object - each had its own unique number, a protection system, and information about where it was issued, or rather - what computer of the banking clans created it. It was incredibly difficult to forge it, but it was possible. At the same time, the first loan lost its value, because it was impossible to perform the operation twice - the system tracked and registered the position of the money. If you paid, say, in a bar, with such a chip, and then went to a neighbouring bar to pay with a copy of the first one, the system quickly found that such a credit had already been spent elsewhere, and the current one was invalid. That's how it is, an awesome galactic network, comparable in scale only to the holonet, and even then very conditionally - the amount of information is less, but the network is spread everywhere where there are reasonable people. You can even transfer credits to other people's cards, you just need to insert both of them into a special computer and perform a credit transfer operation. It was a perfect security system, not a word about it, but each credit took up space like a rather weighty computer program, which meant that to deal with one single unit of money would require months of work - droids were understandably unsuitable for analysing data compiled by auto-analysis-protected algorithms.
The smuggler's money was like a plastic card, only a little wider. But it was understandable - if in our earthly world there were such technologies as plastic cards and flash-cards, then here in such a small device there was a gigantic amount of information that could be transferred to another card through the computer in a couple of seconds.
Forcefully pulling a black painted, let it be "credit card", credit card out of my pocket, I quickly brought it closer to me and continued on my way without sensing any danger. The smuggler was cautious and had definitely spotted me, but I just stood there staring at the entrance to the bar. I was a slave, too, so I didn't attract attention - I was far away. He looked at me with a cloudy gaze and went about his business.
It was the first but not the last, far from the last, and today I went to my honest trade, or rather forced humanitarian aid to the slaves of Tatooine.
By tradition, I hid in a place where you can meet a lot of money customers - closer to the spaceport and shopping districts. I went to the local vomitorium, which was more of a shawarma stand than a cafe, but slaves don't get that often. I bought myself a lunch of meat and fruit with credits given to me by Wotto, and began to eat it slowly, drinking hot tea.
Slave is a unique status that I am somewhat grateful for. Because a slave on Tatooine is like a droid, ignored as if slaves were a detail of the planet's interior. So if someone told Jabba that the "elusive thief" was a boy slave, Jabba would reward him for his sense of humour, or feed him to his dogs, depending on what mood the Hutt was in. He's been looking for me since I swiped a dude's credit card with a large sum of money a week ago. Before that, I'd made a good profit, too - after all, I don't walk down the street, "accidentally" bumping into passers-by, but I just stand at a table, eat shawarma, ie local food, and look around. Meanwhile, my intuition, aimed at finding money, invisibly drew my attention to a man passing by. I, reaching out forcefully, felt a familiar credit card in my pocket and it quietly, sliding the pocket so that I would not feel it, came out and immediately fell to the ground and was covered with sand. Three-four seconds more - to lead this rectangle of plastic card under the sand camouflage to the nearest corner and voila! The client goes on, unsuspecting, and the credit card crawled away to the side of the house and hid under a pile of sand. There was no joy from the acquisition, but I developed my talent in the criminal sphere. At one time, I even thought about whether I should send these Jedi to hell, and not to do criminal work. But the thought remained, and it never went away. Thanks to my intuition, I could choose the one with the most money or the least attention from two people, and thanks to my strength, I could pull off a credit card with monstrous efficiency. After that incident, after which Jabba opened the season of hunting for me, I tried to commit no more than two thefts a week, and even that on small things. The average income was impossible to calculate; everyone had a different amount on them, from two credits to fourteen thousand, like the one who'd complained to Hutt. My main secret credit card was already decent, very, very decent. I'd been freelancing for a month, stealing credit cards by the dozens from stray passersby with an average of a hundred credits on them, but I hadn't learnt to use the gift yet, or rather hadn't thought to look for the power of those with the most money. After that incident with Jabba, I had to lay low, and I was selective in my approach to objects. Tatooine was not only a vile sand hole, but also a planet where the Mafia had settled, where smuggling went through Tatooine, where the legendary "black market" was located because no one cared about the laws of the Republic, slave trade, drug trafficking, illegal goods... the list goes on and on. But most importantly, there was money here. There were enough people here who had credit cards in their pockets and I didn't care who I robbed - a smuggler who got his khabar for a shipment of goods or a slave trader who got his money for live goods. So some slave trader came to Tatooine, sold slaves, got ten thousand dollars, went about his business, and the money was stolen. Welcome to Tatooine, man!
Today was a richer catch - three people, and money, the force pointed to it in the form of intuition. All that's left is to get the credit card cache and roll credits... Well, they say the favourite part of the job is getting paid. I'll do the pleasant thing tomorrow, and now, having taken food in store, I went home to my slave cabin....
* Next day, morning *
I piled into Watto's shop, happy as a cat who'd found a stash of valerian after a date with his cat.
Watteau was busy as usual, so he sent me off to work, after giving me a scolding. I went into my workshop and dumped everything I'd accumulated in a fortnight of fishing around the spaceport on the table. Since I hadn't shone anywhere, there shouldn't be a problem.
I dumped my belongings out of my duffel bag - a sword blank, some food my mother had packed, and... a whole bunch of colourful credit cards. Yeah, I got quite a few, quite a few. I didn't have time to check it, though. The only defence against thieves is your own eyes. And they did not help half a hundred people in the good cause of protecting their money.
The first credit card had fifty credits on it. That's not bad, you can live. But there's more. The first one, the one I stole from the smuggler, was a tricky credit card. It was used by people who didn't want to be traced, otherwise the banking clans couldn't extend their reach to planets like Tatooine, where every other transaction was against the laws of the Republic.
The second one had a couple of hundred credits on it. That's what I took from one Mandalorian. That's very, very good, I've got the money.
It took a while to gut the purses. Now I understand why the Jedi are so strictly watching the gifted - using the force in criminal business can go far - there you have the "invisible hand" of telekinesis, and a sense of danger, and incredible, in terms of the laws of physics and biology, reaction ....
On average, the finances of each cleaned out, if we take those who have less than a thousand, were equal to three hundred fifty-three credits, and if we add the recent clients - then on average they have seven and a half thousand, but there are only five people. And one more, that bitch who snitched on Jabba, for fourteen and a half thousand. My fortune's gone past the sixty-thousand level. The price for such a fancy payday was a thirty-thousand dollar bounty on my head, but that's the small stuff of life - nobody saw me, nobody felt anything, so nobody has any leads. It was... well, you could buy a pretty good ship with that kind of dough. Or ten slaves. Like me.
A slave can't own that kind of money, though slaves are not forbidden to own property - they're given just enough to keep us working. Basically, it's the same on earth, only slaves are called "office plankton" and "proletariat". If you can't boast of anything special, you'll be paid enough to barely make ends meet.
Having finished the calculations, I put the credit card with all the money in my pocket and disposed of the rest - I simply turned them all by force into an indefinable mass of matter, in which the elements of electronics, metal and plastic were mixed.
Already something to work with when Qui-Gon arrives. Besides, if I really am the highest betting odds... I think I'll continue to steal from the wealthiest passersby, and I might be able to improve my financial well-being. Even if Kwygon doesn't come, which is likely, I can remove the slave chips from me and my mother by force, and use the money to go somewhere far away, where even the Yuuzhan-wongs won't find me....
I postponed the strength exercises until tomorrow, and today, having done the work for Watto, I hurried home. The kar was almost ready, only a few little things needed to be done. But now I had the power, and I could use it to look inside the car. Inside was just a mountain of rubbish - greedy Watto had allowed me not only to assemble but also to use the car, for even a third place win would pay for the cost of me. In such a case, Watto can and risk, good thing he did not need to do anything, only to complain some low-value parts from his warehouse of junk. I began to collect the kart in secret, but Watteau quickly learnt about it and, after punishing me roughly and estimating my winnings, allowed me to continue with the racing theme. I was a valuable slave, but not so valuable that my threefold price did not tempt the Toidarian.
After a few frantic races, I was already a good novice racer and, not having been killed so far, I cherished Watto's dreams of making unprecedented money from my risk.
The kart was ruthlessly rebuilt by force - dust and sand were removed from all working areas, rust was removed, gyroscopes and repulsor motors were rebalanced... the latter had to be seriously worked on to make them look good. But, after an hour of my work on the engines, they're more efficient. A lot more efficient, especially compared to the "before" state. The power drives were already mounted, but they too had to be cleaned up by removing debris through the sheathing and tweaking the controls as well.
* Four months later *
How old was Ani in the film when Quigon took him? About ten, I guess. I mean, there's a Bounty Eve Classic that I didn't take part in, and Kwygon still hasn't flown. The next race is in a month and after that it's closing season, there'll be sandstorms, so punts will be useless. In the meantime, I've been training. Yes, you have. The sword was one of the training grounds, or rather a billet for a lightsaber. Gradually I managed to buy some parts as well, such as an emitter, and good batteries with a power cell. It's like building a computer, very similar. I bought parts as I could light up without danger of being detected. And so - on my master's business, need a part... who cares what my master sent me for and who I belong to anyway? So there were few questions - I brought a credit card with a ready sum, got the part, gave the money. That's it.
At the same time I continued my criminal career - the reward for my head is already fifty thousand credits, and on the streets there are people from whom my sixth sense tells me to stay away. There's no better game than one where the stakes are your life, the adrenaline is just off the charts with each new theft. Am I becoming a klepto? Who knows, who knows... But I'm still stealing and stealing badly. Here, a few people in a company of non-humans passed by, all so important... but the main one in the company, the ringleader, had a credit card... in his pocket. Now in the sand, and I sit quietly and eat, even sometimes good food - I need to grow up, vitamins there... though what are vitamins here - on Tatooine even to eat growing organism has nothing but meat.
Today my catch was three thousand. I added it to the hundred and seven I already had. And what would you think, it's not for you to sell pies at the railway station - the sum by the standards of honest earnings is huge, but I did not stop, continuing at different times of the day and in different areas of Mos-aisley to snatch valuables and credit cards. People were becoming more cautious, but that didn't save them. All over the spaceport you could see notices saying that the "invisible thief," as people dubbed me, was entitled to fifty thousand dollars. That was more than a large sum - for a hundred thousand you could buy a new YT-1300 ship, and a used one for twenty-five. I suppose I don't need to start a career as a smuggler, but if I'm in a pinch... then yeah, I can get out of here and buy a ship.
* Three days later *
It started out simple. Watto gave me the task of sitting down and scrubbing the dirt off the parts. I, like an honest man, sat down and, armed with a rag and strength, with the speed of an industrial cleaner, scraped rust and old paint from the parts of the spaceship, of which there were many, both ships and parts from old cars.
I didn't notice three people entering the shop. A man, a woman and a Gungan. Yeah, those three. A pretty girl, a decent-looking man, and this big-eared, fidgety, naive Gungan.
Noticing Watto turning towards the visitors, I turned around and looked at them and whispered quietly to myself: "it has begun."
Kwai gong Jinn left with Watto to watch the gravitsapa...I mean hyperdrive. Just like in the film, the clever Watto was already rubbing his hands together. It's a good thing Kwigon's not too flashy, or he wouldn't have paid at all. Hyperdrive... something. Expensive stuff that only Watto has. Probably no one would sell it to them for their Republican money, and certainly not for new....
So I was left to sit and clean the parts, with a Gungan and a pretty girl about seventeen or nineteen years old by my side. Hmmm... decent, pretty... if she wasn't a queen, maybe I would have repeated the path of my past self.
Finished with the detail, I started the conversation, seeing that she was hesitant to speak first:
- Is this your first time on Tatooine?
- Yeah. It's so interesting...
- Yeah. Bandits, smugglers, maniacs, slave traders, mafia, drug dealers... great planet! A must-see. Don't forget to buy a ticket..." I smirked at my sarcasm.
- Well, our engine broke down, so we had to land on Tatooine....
- Yeah, double bad luck. Hey, Eeyore! Watch it out there! - I shouted to the Gungan, who was climbing up to the droids.
- You have such a bad opinion of your planet? Then why do you live here?
- Hmmm... - I smiled to myself at this directness. - You see, beautiful, slaves don't have a choice.
- So you are a slave! - she exclaimed, a little embarrassed at the 'beautiful'. Well, understandably, her royal persona was hardly ever complimented in such a rude way.
- I'm human! And my name is Anakin! - I answered her with my crowning and canonical phrase.
- I'm sorry," she said, embarrassed, "this is the first time I've been here, and...
- It's all right, I forgive you," I smiled, and threw my arm out sharply at the Gungan, picking up the falling droid by force and interlocking the fingers of my invisible hand around the eared one's neck, dragging him back here on that collar. This creature makes me nervous - too dumb, too energetic. There's a reason he was kicked out of his hometown, oh, there's a reason... I had to add the kind of authority to my voice that I was capable of in my past life, but never as a slave:
- Listen to my ears, Gungan, if you don't stop breaking everything here, you will become a head shorter," I squeezed his neck a little, and Gungan nodded quickly, "good boy. I smiled, not noticing that I'd laced the threatening influence with a little mental influence from the force. It just sort of worked itself out. I lowered my hand and turned to the princess, and said in the same direct, childlike voice:
- Where were we? Oh, your knowledge of Galapolitics. I'm tempted to ask where you're from, but I'm guessing Naboo.
Padme, too, was affected by my speech, or was it the power I was using involuntarily, an ability I still have little control over. But after my speech, spoken in a tone more typical of Darth Vader, she dropped a little from her face, and even turned pale... yeah, what am I, pushing my power on pretty politicians?
- Naboo? - Padme perked up and definitely smelled something. I'm not supposed to know that, am I? No, you're not. But logic is our friend, and we must be friends with it:
- You're wearing Nabuan clothes, you have a Gungan with you, and they live on Naboo, that Jedi was looking for hyperdrive te-fourteen, and they only stand on Nubians and a few other Corellian models... should I go on? - I raised an eyebrow ironically. Padme, who lowered a quick glance at her outfit, listened to this as a criticism of poor camouflage. The criticism was substantial.
- Yes, we're with Naboo. I hope you won't tell anyone..." she said, but then caught the gist of it, "Jedi? What makes you think we have a Jedi with us? She asked, preparing to get an equally interesting answer, and it followed, but there was no logic in it:
- Elementary, lady, he is in Jedi garb, though such robes are common, it is rare among those who travel the galaxy. There is power in him, lots of it. Light, if I've identified correctly, and he has a lightsaber, I can feel it," I shrugged and Padme Amidala went deep into her thoughts.
After a moment, she returned from the depths of her musings and asked:
- But how? The Jedi can use this power, that much is clear, but....
- But what? It's not just the Jedi who can use the force. - I defiantly picked up a couple of parts and stacked them on the far shelf with the same junk.
- ... - Padme thought again, but this time not so deeply, - well, then why don't you show yourself to the Jedi if you know how to use this power of yours?
- Firstly, I'm a slave, and secondly, the only Jedi I've seen is the one who left with Watto. And the Force tells me you're not going to get out of here that easily," I smirked and continued to look at her face. It was beautiful.
Amidala was, if not in shock, then in an extremely unbalanced state. The teachings of the Force were common only among the Jedi, some knew what it was, some guessed... the rest of us didn't get much information about what the Force was and what it was good for. So Amidala hardly knew what it was or how. But she knew that the Jedi were looking for gifted people all over the galaxy, so she thought that I should be shown to Master Quigon, she could read it on her face, though it was hard to read, she had a very pretty face...
Gungan after the mental suggestion, combined with my threatening tone and the "boa constrictor" sat quieter than water and lower than grass and did not utter a word. But Padme did not keep silent:
- You must be shown to Quigon. - She said confidently and nodded to her thoughts, which were now easily readable on her beautiful face.
- Is this the Jedi? - I asked.
Quigon Jinn himself walked in just at that moment, but Amidala didn't notice and answered:
- Yes, the Jedi. If you...
- Excuse me, but what's wrong? - Quigon Jinn himself, the very Quigon Jinn under discussion, approached us. Padme, hearing his voice, turned round, and he had already said to her reproachfully: - You are not good at keeping secrets, lady. I guess bringing you along was a mistake.
- Um...Master Jedi, I didn't tell him anything, I just..." Quigon took Padme under his arm and dragged her out of the shop, but his hopes of reprimanding his companion without being overheard were not to be:
- Quigon Jinn? I suppose you should make adjustments for the wind," I smiled at my phrase, which they probably didn't understand.
The Jedi stopped and asked me:
- And you, young man, follow me," and walked off again, dragging Padme with him.
There was nothing to do, so I had to go. Quigon was a treasure trove of calm, so it wasn't hard to talk to him. I followed the Jedi, who was confidently dragging Padmé with him under his elbow. Or, more accurately, "maid."
We stepped out into the bright sun, and stepped aside, only then did Quigon begin his rant. Me. - Now, young man, what amendments were you talking about? Shut up," he said to Padme, who wanted to say something. She pouted, but remained silent. Apparently, the Jedi was not happy that her companion had blabbed and was thinking about how to wave his hand in front of my nose and say, "You didn't see anything.
- I mean, the lady didn't tell me anything. But it's obvious, you're a Jedi, and you're flying from Naboo.
- What makes you think that? - He asked with interest.
- Firstly, the lady is wearing Nabooan clothes. Secondly, you have a Gungan with you, and thirdly, you said you were looking for t-14s, and they are used on Nubians and some other yachts that are not widely used in the galaxy because no one gives a damn about the environmental friendliness of the engines. So I take it from all this that you're with Naboo, Lady Nubian, and you brought a Gungan with you for some reason.
- Hmm..." Quigon thought for a moment. Hard," "and what about the Jedi?
- First of all, you're wearing Jedi robes. And don't say that everyone wears them, it's a Jedi style. You have a lightsaber, I saw you while you were going after the money, and you also give off a power that can be felt a mile away. Oh, yeah, the crystal in your sword is a bit phonetic, but that's nothing," I smiled as I saw Qui-Gon's face stretch.
- Can you feel the power? - he wondered.
- Well... yeah," I didn't understand what was so surprising.
-You mean you can feel me?
- Exactly. You're so powerful, it's hard not to. - I nodded in affirmation.
- Then you're coming with us. That's out of the question. - The code says that no one with power should be left without the Order's supervision.
- Well, I could use a teacher. - I nodded my head, but Quigon didn't seem to be listening.
- But Master, what about the hyperdrive? - Padme asked, masquerading as a peasant girl, or, ugh, a maid-servant.
- Refused. The Republic money won't take it. - Quigon sighed.
- How much do you want? - I asked, interrupting Padme.
- Nine or ten thousand. - Quigon shook his head, looking around at the company.
- I'll pay. But on three conditions," I said hastily.
- What conditions? - Padme was surprised, but Quigon interrupted her:
- 'Agreed. What do you want? - He looked at me slyly. Eh, I guess she didn't expect a trick from the boy.....
- Firstly, my mum's coming with us. Secondly, you'll be teaching me. Thirdly, I'll take part in the next Bounty Classic race. - I made my demands. Logical, in my opinion. - Oh, yeah, you'll bet on me in the race with the money I give you and you won't ask questions. - That's cheeky, isn't it? As long as he's not the sensei, you can take liberties. Especially since he depends on me to some extent. At least now I won't have to put the ship on the line.
Kwygon mumbled....
- Do you have to be in the race?
- Yes. I'll explain later," I nodded my head.
- All right then," the Jedi said after a little thought, "we should get back to the ship.
- No need, there will be a sandstorm soon...I don't think you'll make it in time. - I shook my head. Indeed, the storm was coming.
- Then what? - Padme looked alternately at me and Quigon.
- Then we'll find shelter," the Jedi replied.
- I can invite you to join us. I don't think a slave cabin is a good place for guests, but it's better than nothing. - I opened my arms.
Quigon agreed and we went. I just looked in on Watto and told him I was done and he let me go home, grumbling for good measure.
Quigon and Padme, followed by the Gungan, who surprised the Jedi by his taciturnity, followed me towards the slave quarter.
The mud huts were no godsend, of course, but a sandstorm could wait out a sandstorm. On the way we passed my car, and Quigon, having looked at it with the help of his power, was pleased.
- Well, Mum was already home, which is good news.
- Mum, we have visitors... you don't mind, do you? - I asked, leaving the rest of the contacts to Quigon's conscience.
- No, of course not. Come in - Mum looked round at the company and with a sigh went to gather the table.
There's been more money since I stole, so I'll have to go out and steal again while Quigon sleeps and dreams. I remember the odds on me were at the highest odds, almost a hundred to one. Or even more, and every credit spent today is a hundred won tomorrow.
When Quigon and Padmé had gone off to chat with Mum, I made a quick escape, and before the storm started, that is, in the hour and a half or two hours I had left, I drove down Mos Eisley, as the flow of people had increased - everyone was in a hurry and thinking about how they could get away....
I ran back to Watto's place, where I went into the workshop and pumped a little over three thousand into my second credit card on the pretext of modifying the droid. I added up to ten thousand from the first one and decided to solemnly hand it to the Jedi.
I had a large sum left on mine. In case I didn't make it through the race, which was unlikely, I left a sum to buy my mother out and a little for her to live on. Let her live as a free man for a while.
One hundred and twelve thousand credits left. With that kind of money you could buy a ship or a farm somewhere on a nice planet and live off the income, but that's not our method, the game is worth it - the use of force is not limited by the rules, which, in fact, do not exist. So, I can win, even have a good chance of winning, with twenty-five thousand as the grand prize. It's not a bad, very good sum, but if I take the risk, I can have it all, and the Jedi can bet the big money, no problem with that either-the rules of the sweepstakes are strictly enforced, and the amount of the winnings has to be fabulous, but not so much that the Hutt, who runs Tatooine's shady business, would squeeze the money. Sending assassin-robbers on the trail would be in his nature. In any case, Kwygon wouldn't leave me to rot on Tatooine, so I could risk the money, and I wouldn't starve to death if I lost.
The finances were divided, counted, transferred to the right chips, and all I had to do was go home and do the good deed of trying to influence Kwygon in some way so that I wouldn't have any problems in the future. Not now, though, definitely not now.
I walked around the workshop and took my saber blank out of the drawer and put it in my pocket, next to the money, and went home. The day tomorrow, as well as the next two days before the race, were not easy - the car is not ready for a serious race, and I should use my strength to bring it to the ideal condition. And I'd have to use the power to get it in perfect condition, because I'd have to put a lot of work into it. Oh, and Padme's pushing the wedge with her feminine curiosity, trying to find out why I'm so drawn to racing and what it is about car racing. But I suppose it's not hard to explain to her. Only after the fatality statistics are released, she'll worry for nothing.
Greed is a bad thing. She's shovelling it in. Clever idea, though!
Finished with financial matters, I ran home, because the storm had already begun, and I should hurry ...
* Morning *
Morning paints the walls of an ancient slave hut with a gentle light. Dawn on Tatooine was not a pretty sight, the two stars of tattoo one and tattoo two were just beginning to blaze over the planet that was not lucky enough to be in this starry blaze.
I was up early, as always. To my surprise, Quigon was up, too, and was now sitting in the living room, meditating. When I came out, he pretended to be a slimmed-down Buddha for a while longer, then opened his eyes.
- Good morning, Anakin. How did you sleep?
- Fine, especially good in a sandstorm. I don't know why.
The Jedi smiled, and drew his sword, with the words:
- You said you noticed yesterday? Well, that's good. The Jedi twirled the sword in his hand. Inside it felt like a small grain of sand in the force - a crystal. Now, that's what I wanted to talk to you about.
- Um... how do I address you?
- You can just call me by my first name," he said, giving me an interested look.
- Quigon, I was wondering... where can I buy a crystal for my lightsaber?
- What do you need it for? Well, it doesn't matter. The crystals are sold by a separate company run by the Jedi temple. There are plenty more on the market, both collectible and common. The Padawans get everything they need for their swords for free, so you don't have to worry about that," he assured me in a "I'll have everything, and kirzats, and loincloths..." kind of way.
I thought about it for a moment, but then I reached into my pocket and pulled out.....
Yes, Quigon was surprised. Or rather, he coughed when I pulled out my sword blank.
- Here, I was going to put it together. Pretty good for training, by the way, but I can't buy the crystal here, so it's just a billet," I said in an innocent voice as I watched the Jedi hurriedly regain his composure.
- Anakin... can I see it? - Quigon asked, looking at the billet.
- Yes, of course," I held out my creation to him and watched as Quigon sniffed the hilt, then turned it in his hands, gazing at it. Then he closed his eyes and apparently fell into a trance, holding my future sword with both hands.....
- Hmm..." he said without opening his eyes. I stood for a few more minutes, waiting for the verdict. The sword was my little pride and the Jedi did not disappoint me by saying:
- Very interesting work. It's not bad either, for what it's worth... what kind of metal is it?
- I don't know, someone sold a piece of starship armour to Watto, so I got some metal from it....
Quigon opened his eyes and held out the hilt of his sword to me, saying:
- "I didn't expect that. It's a fine piece of work, though you lack experience.
- Thank you, Quigon. I've been working on this piece for a long time," I nodded, and sat down in a chair. The Jedi Knight followed my example and sat down as well, starting the conversation:
- Anakin, you certainly have the Force and you have it well... I've never heard of an untrained man being able to use the Force like that," Quigon paused for a moment and then continued, "but I suppose it's all right if you don't mind being trained by the temple?
- Of course, Quigon, I don't mind coming to you," I reassured him. Really, why would he want to drive a wedge when I said I was all for it?
- Then I'd like to see what you can do. - He said and, pointing to a container of water, asked, "Can you lift objects? That carafe, for example?
In response, the decanter flew into the air. And then a couple of glasses, and then I poured water into glasses and put one in front of the Jedi.
Quigon was no longer surprised, but he still looked thoughtful. After all my training with credit cards, it was more than easy for me to do such a thing... when you pull a credit card out of your pocket....
- So that's how..." the Jedi thought for a moment. Just at that moment Mum came out, still stretching... Quigon looked at her and, smiling, said:
- Yes, Shmi, I'm even more surprised than you are. There is still the question of money..." the Jedi glanced at me, but I reminded him:
- One of the conditions - no questions, remember?
- Yes, yes..." Quigon said hastily. Mum came over to me, starting the new day by asking:
- Ani, are you hiding something from me? Quigon said you're going to be a Jedi, but....
- Never mind, Mum," I said, "a Jedi is better than a slave. Besides, who knew that...?
- Yes, yes..." Mum nodded hastily and exchanged quick glances with Quigon. Oh, something's not right! Quigon reminded me of the canon and pulled a box out of his pocket and said, "Anakin, you wouldn't mind giving me some blood, would you?"
I had to put my finger under the injection. Quigon thoughtfully avoided talking to his padawan right there and walked out, leaving Mum and me alone. To break the silence, I asked:
- Are those two still asleep?
- Yes..." Mum nodded absent-mindedly.
- Nothing. We'll be out of here soon.
- Yes, Quigon told me yesterday. But why didn't you tell me? - she went from distracted to indignant and angry. Oops.
- I'm sorry, Mum, but how would you have understood that? And what would have changed then? Well, I can use the power," I lifted a glass of untouched water into the air and held it up to my mum, who watched the flying clay glass with her lips pressed together. But she took the water, and I continued," So what? Many people use this power. Mum drank some and, stroking my head, said grumpily:
- But still, you should have told your mother everything. What kind of fashion is it to keep secrets from your own mother? I should be learning these things from you, not from some Jedi who came from nowhere!
The Gungan woke up to the noise. The Nubian queen was still asleep, and the sun was already shining outside the window....
- Ja-ja, how could I forget breakfast! - Mum exclaimed and went to prepare the table for us, but I stopped her:
- "No need, mum, you better rest," I handed her a credit card with a couple of hundred U.E.'s on it - There's not a lot of money here. Well, our guests are not empty-pocketed, and I still have to deal with the car....
- Oh, Ani, you could crash!
- I know, Mum, but thanks to my strength, it's unlikely to happen. So at least I'll be the last one to arrive, but alive, and we'll be out of here at last.
- Okay," Mum sighed heavily. Well, she didn't like it when I raced, but in time, I managed to get her ideologically processed and she didn't get so radical about racing.
* The morning of race day *
Watto dashed out of his shop and headed towards the stadium. He was in high spirits and even placed a small bet on Sebulba. You bet, Quigon had returned to him yesterday and bought back two slaves for a good price, so the junk dealer could buy five of them and still have some left over.... Watto knew Anakin would try his luck in this race and decided to cheer a little for his former slave, now a free man. Unlike the other spectators, the Toidarian made his way to the garage where the racers were preparing for the race. He recognised Anakin's kar quickly, so flew towards him, but he was only spotted when Watto approached.
- Good afternoon, Anakin, and...
- Quigon. - introduced himself to the Jedi. Anakin, surprised to hear his former master's voice, turned and regarded Watto with all eyes.
- So that's how... well, I hope you bet on me, Watto. - Anakin smiled slyly.
- On Sebulba. - The Toydarian said and flew closer to the engines, looking them over thoughtfully. - Is that so? Hmmm...
Quigon kept his eyes on Watto while Anakin sat in his racing car, tweaking the control programme.
Meanwhile, at the other end of the garage, Sebulba was enjoying a massage instead of tinkering with his car. As Anakin and Quigon entered the garage, the Twi'leks chuckled, eyeing the Jedi and Anakin with interest. The two individuals with azure skin and pretty faces were fanned by Sebulbuoy and continued the massage.
The Toydarian assessed the engines and hurriedly bowed out, wishing Anakin good luck.
No one was surprised when Skywalker, slave to Watto, went to buy engines from an old decommissioned fighter...sure, a little work with power and some restored metal integrity. After an hour of work, the engines were ready to be the star of the race - they were one and a half times more powerful than the new ones, to say nothing of the fact that Anakin had installed thrust reversal and other useful features in his racing car. At the top of the collection was the adjustment of the control system to use the force and the handles at the same time. Now the car had more manoeuvrability than before, because the power user had an incredible reaction. The speed of the car on the test run was too high, because after the installation of a fuel pump with increased power, the engine began to overheat, but it produced much more than before. And twice as much power as the previous engine. Minor changes have been made to the cockpit as well, but these are minor things. After some thought, Skywalker ran off to the spaceport the day before the race and returned with the details. Under Quigon's curious glances, the boy forcefully and with a screwdriver took apart the engine nacelles, and installed a new system, fitting the parts not as precisely as in the mecha, but close to it. After the modification, the excess power was blocked, and the remote control had a button "Afterburner", pressing which removed the fuses and the engine blasted forward, giving additional power. Of course, the air-jet engine was superficially familiar to him from his life on Earth, and Skywalker, who had added the Air Force insignia in the form of a red star to his kar, was pleased with his creation. Now he had something to surprise his guests with. He didn't even have to hope that the engine would stall - the kar was definitely the best after being tested and tweaked by force.
Watto, appreciating the beauty of the mod, flew to the bookies to make a new bet, and Anakin, after a glance with Quigon, climbed out of the kar.
After all the questions were settled and the kar was ready, Skywalker paced from side to side, shivering. Quigon remained unfazed, believing that if the force had brought them together, it was unlikely anything would happen, he would sense trouble. Shmi was escorted away, to the first bleachers and now the command was sounded - 'on your mark'. Anakin, after listening to Quigon's admonition to trust his instincts, nodded and led the kar to the starting line. As usual, Skywalker's place was at the tail end of the formation, and as the flag bearers began to move out in front of them, the boy grew anxious again. It was time to start the engines.
To Anakin's surprise, a Tung named Ben still took part in the race, though their race was famous for being flamboyant sociopaths who couldn't string two words together in front of a large crowd of people. After the flag bearers had passed, the commentator turned everyone's attention to the local sheik, Jabba the Hutt.
One hundred thousand credits were bet on Anakin, which caught the attention of many, for he was the dark horse, but mostly people and non-humans laughed as they looked at Kwygon, who remained simply samurai-like.
Padme and Shmi were in the front row, and watched Anakin's carom. After Shmi had been ransomed from slavery, Padme had changed Skywalker into the same clothes she had, that is, the clothes of a maid in the Nabuan royal palace. Amazingly, the woman had transformed for the better in one day, Anakin now realised what the man who had bought her off in Lucas's saga had found in her. It was impossible to recognise Shmi, still a little make-up, decent clothes... in general, she looked in her thirties, and not a year more.
After the droids and humanoids carrying the racers' flags were lined up, Jabba took the floor. He said little, but succinctly enough, and struck the gong.
The afterburner was already pushed in, and Anakin had a plan to win the race - the most dangerous part was the clinch with the other competitors, so the winner would stay in front and, because of the lack of other racers, build up the lead. However, this was always the case and whoever moved into the final stage of the race ahead of everyone else won. It used to be Sebulba, who didn't skimp on engines and was a daredevil like all the other Dagas. When the gong sounded Anakin began to execute his cunning plan and, as soon as the racers moved, he waited until they were far ahead and pushed both knobs to full throttle. Skywalker's eyes darkened, but the kar obediently sped off at double speed and, fitting in between the flying racers, quickly pulled ahead. The spectators in the stands fell silent in shock as Skywalker took off a good three hundred metres and steadily increased his lead, but was forced to turn off the afterburner for fear of overheating the engines. Anakin, not seeing where his opponents were behind him, drove his kart as if it were a driving test - neatly and academically, uninhibited in his movements, he fit into the corners. Gungan Jar-ja was happy in the stands and did not let Padma and Shmi watch Skywalker confidently leading the race on the tablet, exclaiming all the time.
The rest of the racers, seeing such mayhem, immediately rushed forward, jostling cockpits and engines, pushing their opponents back onto the rocks. Not even one lap later, the number of competitors was halved - most of them died in the crush. Ten of the eighteen competitors remained, and Anakin was pleased to find that there was a straight line that led across the stadium. He turned on the afterburner and began to accelerate again, but there was plenty of room. Half a minute later, Skywalker's kar was literally lightning, raising a small plume of dust, flew in front of the audience, and went for a second lap. Fifteen seconds later, Sebulba flew by, followed by the rest of the competitors. The spectators welcomed Dag with whistles, as he was the most bet on.
What should happen happened, and one racer dropped out because he used the dumb droids as a pit stop, and a droid hitting the radiator destroyed the engine.
Anakin whizzed around for a few more seconds and turned off the afterburner. Kar's speed was noticeably slower, but it was enough of a gap that he didn't have to worry about being overtaken, which gave him great manoeuvring ability and reassurance. Gradually the gap was closing, and when Anakin was nearing the end of the second lap, Sebulba's kar appeared on the radar. Skywalker turned on the afterburner again, and Sebulba had to move away from the jets of Skywalker's engine.
Doug was frantic, but there was nothing he could do - Skywalker's kar was sailing ahead of him again.
Shmi wasn't as worried about her son this time as she had been before, and the Gungan was besieged by the approaching Quigon and out of the way. Only the Jedi and Anakin knew about the amount of the bet, so Padme and Shmi weren't as worried as Quigon was. After Anakin finished the second and entered the final lap, now with eight competitors on his tail, Quigon became anxious, for there was a lot at stake, and if he won, he would have to go to the Hutt as well.
On average, each lap took five minutes, and at kara speed, that was quite a lot. Skywalker was leading steadily, infuriating the Dag who was following second, but with a ten second gap, the only way he could hope to win was if Skywalker had something wrong with his kar. Sebulba had already regretted a hundred times that he hadn't tampered with Anakin's kar as he had originally planned - he had guarded his car so tightly from any passersby.
And... yes, what was going to happen happened - Anakin won, to the wailing of the stands his white and blue kar with a red star on its side flew over the starting line and stopped with the help of reverse thrust and brake engines. Anakin had already started to climb out as Sebulba crossed the finish line, followed by a couple of other riders. The rest of them were more like tailing off, so they probably weren't in a hurry anymore.
Anakin was immediately rushed to Anakin by his mother and Padme. The former lifted her son in her arms, smiling happily, and Anakin was glowing, but for a different reason - Greed. Quigon, unlike his companions, did not approach Skywalker, but went to the bookie to claim his winnings.
As soon as Shmi let Anakin go, Padme couldn't help herself and kissed the pink-haired winner on the cheek.
Quigon went to the bookie's window and handed him his ticket. The secretary droid answered the Jedi:
- I'm sorry, we don't have that amount, we'll have to wait.
- That's alright, I'll wait. - The Jedi nodded and began to look at the passersby. Not many people won today, so no one was bothering the Jedi until a man from Jabba came running in, immediately informing:
- Did you win this? Ah, yes, sorry. Here," the man held out a credit card to the Jedi, but Quigon, sensing something wrong, gave him his own and asked him to transfer the money to it.
The secretary had to handle the transfer and then present the winnings to the "lucky" owner of the fortune.
Quigon headed back to the garage and found Anakin in the company of everyone else. Skywalker had already stripped the nacelles off the car and was taking his transport apart.
- Anakin, why are you taking the car apart? - The Jedi asked the boy, holding out a credit card. Smiling, Anakin took his money and informed the spectators:
- It's only for one run anyway, the engines burned out from the afterburner. But who cares now? - Finished with the dismantling work, Skywalker turned to the waiting ladies:
- I guess we can fly away now. Quigon?
- Yes, yes, of course. We have no more business here.
- Where is your ship? - Anakin asked and the Jedi Knight led the procession behind him.
* Anakin *
It did happen. Mum had warned us to leave as soon as possible, I was afraid that this Sith who was out there would find us and there would be casualties, maybe even me. For self-defence, and even more so for attacking, my skills, carefully developed, are useless - except for throwing something at the horned man, but with increasing range the mass of the lifted objects decreases, so in a serious fight my skills are worth little. I had to rely on Kwygon's defence, and strode to the nubian - the hyperdrive had already been installed on it, so the ship was ready for departure.
It was a strange feeling, parting with my planet - on the one hand I hated Tatooine with every fibre of my soul - the heat, the dust, the crime... But on the other hand I was scared - there was so much ahead of me that it was scary to leave, as if I were throwing myself off a cliff - there would be no turning back. And now there was no way back, since he had met Quigon and expressed his desire to join their order....
The huge chrome yacht stood on the outskirts of the city, a couple of hundred metres from the last buildings, so I had yet to get to it, so I was thinking about my hard fate. It was a win-win, especially since I'd have to quit being a thief and start fresh. Mum took me by the hand and we followed Quigon in a procession - me, Mum, Padme, the Gungan who was always talking and the droid. My droid is c3po. "c3po." Somewhat more like a chemical formula, so I called him either tripio or chatterbot. The droid oddly enough didn't mind, and followed us silently. A translator is a necessary thing, simply indispensable - if on Earth people were separated by a language barrier, what to say about the galaxy, where there were thousands of intelligent races? And each had its own language, from which you can separate various dialects and dialects, which created a mishmash. Of course, the oldest races in the galaxy had already switched to a galaxy-wide aurebesh, so the droid is extremely useful. And not a bucket of eyes like an astrodroid. Astrodroids were a separate topic - they were primarily a part of a ship or ship, they could do repairs in flight, they could be navigators, even pilots, I'm not even talking about the fact that on a medium-sized ship, like a Nubian, astrodroids did everything except those processes where iron was useless. So the Erdva was a big-time space wolf. However, I didn't quite understand why a farmer from Tatooine bought an astrodroid at the beginning of the fourth part - does he need to calculate hyperjump coordinates or maintain the farm with an astrodroid? Yeah, let's leave that to George Lucas. And so the astrodroid is an indispensable assistant, and when I want to buy a ship for myself, and I can't resist, I know myself, I'll definitely get someone like Erdva. Or did that bucket of eyes belong to Anakin anyway? Right, he's just a simple droid on Nubian's team for now. The Star Wars world's "pen-pen" - he doesn't say anything, but he understands everything.
The Nubian was handsome, by Nabooan standards. Sure, it was big, it had a sleek silhouette, it was chrome-plated... but it all looked kind of dysfunctional - it was a spaceship! Why does it need this silhouette, because it hardly ever flies in the atmosphere. But apparently it's a matter of ponts for the queen, i.e. Amidala.
***
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