Within the Force (Star Wars fan fic) Book One

Chapter Six

The viewing platform settled in place smoothly, and its occupants off-loaded onto the raceway in a rush.

Allowing his companions to join the celebration, the Jedi Master turned back toward the stands. Ascending the stairways swiftly, with Ashlyn at his heels, he reached Watto's private box in minutes. A knot of aliens departed just in front of him, laughing and joking in several languages, counting fistfuls of currency and credits. Watto was staring out at the chanting crowd, hovering at the edge of the viewport, a dejected look on his wrinkled blue face.

The moment he caught sight of Qui-Gon, his dejection transformed, and he flew at the Jedi Master in undisguised fury.

"You! You swindled me!" He bounced in the air in front of Qui-Gon, shaking with rage. "You knew the boy was going to win! Somehow you knew it! I lost everything!"

Qui-Gon smiled benignly. "Whenever you gamble, my friend, eventually you'll lose. Today wasn't your day." The smile dropped away. "Bring the hyperdrive parts to the main hangar right away. I'll come by your shop later so you can release the boy."

The Toydarian shoved his snout against Qui-Gon's nose. "You can't have him! It wasn't a fair bet!"

Ashlyn looked him up and down with a chilly stare. "Would you like to discuss it with the Hutts? I'm sure they'd be happy to settle the matter."

Watto jerked as if stung, his beady eyes filled with hate. "No, no! I want no more of your tricks." He gestured emphatically. "Take the boy! Be gone!"

He wheeled away and flew out of the box, body hunched beneath madly beating wings. Ashlyn and Qui-Gon watched him depart, then started down the stairs for the racetrack, both their minds already turning to other things.

Had either of them not been so preoccupied with their plans for what lay ahead, they might have caught sight of the Sith probe droid trailing after them.

Within an hour, the arena had emptied, the racers had been stored or hauled away for repairs, and the main hangar left almost deserted. A few pit droids were still engaged in salvaging pieces of wreckage from the race, corning and going in steady pursuit of their work. Anakin alone of the Pod pilots remained, checking over his damaged racer. He was dirty and ragged, his hair spiky and his face streaked with sweat and grime. His jacket was torn in several places, and there was blood on his clothing where he had slashed his arm on a jagged piece of metal during the battle with Sebulba.

Qui-Gon watched him thoughtfully, standing to one side with Ashlyn, Padmé, and Shmii as the boy, Jar Jar, Artoo, and Threepio moved busily over the Pod and engines.

Could it be? he was wondering for what must have been the hundredth time, pondering the way the boy handled a Podracer, the maturity he exhibited, and the instincts he possessed. Was it possible?

He shelved his questions for another time. It would be up to the Council to decide. Abruptly, he left the women, walking over to the boy and kneeling beside him.

"You're a bit worse for wear, Annie," he said softly, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders and looking him in the eyes, "but you did well." Smiling reassuringly, he wiped a patch of dirt off the boy's face. "There, good as new."

He ruffled the boy's unruly hair and helped bind his injured arm. Shmi and Padmé joined them and were moved to give Anakin fresh hugs and kisses, checking him over carefully, touching his cheeks and forehead.

"Ah, gee... enough of this," the boy mumbled in embarrassment.

His mother smiled, shaking her head. "It's so wonderful, Annie— what you've done here. Do you know? You've brought hope to those who have none. I'm so very proud of you."