by A. L. Singer
Above the track on a metal bridge, a large light glowed red. The flaggers, who’d been standing under the bridge, now moved off. Out of the corner of his eye, Anakin saw his mother and his new friends rising upward on an elevated viewing platform.
Three laps. Three long laps. He’d have to keep his enthusiasm in check, keep enough back for a killer final kick.
“START YOUR ENGINES!” commanded Fode/Beed.
GRRRRROMMMMMMM!
As the main engines ignited with a thunderous boom, all eyes focused on Jabba. Following the Hutt tradition, he bit the head off a froglike creature and spit it out at the ceremonial gong.
The head bounced. The gong clanged.
The light turned green.
Anakin jammed the accelerator. The engine screamed.
And died.
“LITTLE SKYWALKER HAS STALLED!”
The exhaust of the departed Podracers filled Anakin’s lungs as he saw his hopes crushed. He thought of Qui-Gon’s words: The moment. Concentrate on the moment. Trust your instincts.
Instantly he set the air intakes to max and opened the throttle all the way.
WOOOOOOM!
The Podracer took off.
The others were way ahead. Anakin knew that catching them would require a miracle. But he believed in miracles.
A lot could happen in three laps.
He floored the accelerator, shooting across the desert. The flying sand made small pits and gullies in his windshield, and his back pressed against the seat, flattening the cushion.
In no time he approached the rearmost contestants — Aldar Beedo… Dud Bolt… Ark Roose… Neva Kee…
Passing them was no great triumph.
Faster.
Directly ahead of him was the green Podracer of the treacherous Gasgano. Anakin veered right to pass.
Gasgano promptly veered right, too, directly in front of him.
Left.
Blocked again.
Right.
Nope.
The canyon dune turn was approaching — a sharp cliff that would subtly change the air current flow. Anakin slowed slightly.
As Gasgano flew over, his Podracer dipped. For a nanosecond, Gasgano’s gyroscopic oscillator would need to reset.
Anakin gunned the accelerator. With a burst of engine fire, he shot over the top of Gasgano into open air.
Crrack! Crrrack!
Anakin’s Podracer jerked. Sniper fire. He glanced below, toward the sound.
They were lying on a desert rock, their brown masks and tunics camouflaging all but the rifle barrels that glinted in the morning sun.
Tusken raiders. The Sand People. Tatooine natives, bent on disrupting the race.
He swung left, out of the range of fire. The others were visible now, a clutch of vehicles all jockeying for position as the end of the first lap approached.
Anakin gritted his teeth. His engine gauges were all maxed-out now.
He reached the others just as they vaulted over a sand jump — only to be greeted by two massive rock outcroppings.
Anakin neatly banked to avoid the obstacles. So did the others.
They rocketed over open dune sea now. A wreck passed below — Mawhonic’s Podracer, at the foot of Mushroom Mesa. Then Ratts Tyerell’s Podracer crashed in Laguna Caves.
Two down.
Anakin struggled to break out of the pack but it was too congested. Any sudden move would be stupid. They leaned into the final turn together.
The arena seemed to rise up out of the sands. As they sped through, the crowd’s lusty roar fired Anakin’s spirit. He caught a fleeting glimpse of Padmé, his mother, and Qui-Gon — cheering like mad.
As they whooshed into the second lap, Anakin pulled farther ahead in the pack.
He could see Sebulba now. Trading first place with three other racers. They were slowing each other down.
Anakin closed ground fast. At the moment, Mars Guo and Sebulba were neck and neck in front.
Anakin made his move to pass Mars.
Sebulba, glancing at him, broke a metal ornament off his Podracer and tossed it into Mars’s engine.
SCREEEEEEE…
Mars veered toward Anakin.
Anakin swung sharply. Mars pitched downward and crashed in a cloud of sand.
As they tore past the stands once more, Anakin pulled up to Sebulba’s side. The roar of the crowd was percussive and brief, like a dewback’s bark.
Last lap.
Anakin tried to pull ahead. Sebulba would play fair near the stands — but once out of sight, all bets were off.
The Dug was setting the pace. Suddenly a flame burst from Sebulba’s starboard bow. Anakin saw it lick the side of his engine.
He yanked the controls to the left.
The Podracer banked. He was on the edge of the allowed course-width, the so-called service ramp — about to crash.
With a controlled thrust, Anakin launched up — swooping high to get back on course — and ahead of Sebulba.
The desert stretched out before him, wide and empty. He pulled back the throttle, but it was already at full. No turbine could withstand such sustained strain.
Thunk.
The Podracer jumped. Anakin glanced in the rearview mirror and saw Sebulba on his tail, trying to bump him off course.
Thunk.
Anakin’s engine gauge began to flash. One of the resistors had gone.
He switched to auxiliary mode — which meant a momentary loss of power.
Sebulba instantly pulled into the lead.
Anakin made quick moves to pass, but the Dug blocked each one. Finally, with a skillful fake to the inside, Anakin darted outside. This time Sebulba wasn’t quick enough to block.
They were engine to engine now. Anakin slowly pulled ahead.
Sebulba nudged right.
Smack…
Anakin’s Podracer jolted.
Smack…
Sebulba was bouncing against him now, a little harder each time. Anakin struggled to keep on course.
Smack…
Smack…
CLICK!
Suddenly the bouncing stopped. The two Podracers’ steering arms were locked together.
Ahead of them was the arena, just coming over the horizon line.
Sebulba grinned.
If they stayed like this, it was a sure tie.
This was the worst thing Sebulba could do. Worse than knocking Anakin off course.
It was a coward’s choice.
If Sebulba wanted this race, he would have to earn it. Anakin pulled the wheel to the right, trying to break loose. The rods bent, straining against each other.
Anakin banked right again, sharper.
Crrrrunch.
The two Podracers lunged away from each other. Anakin’s steering arm hung in shreds by the post side.
He screamed. The desert and sky were a spinning blur around him. The Podracer was uncontrollable, hurtling forward blindly.
On the recoil, Sebulba arced high and fast toward an outcropping. He quickly righted the cockpit.
The port engine, however, was not so lucky.
It smashed against the outcropping, caroming back to hit the starboard engine.
With a boom that echoed throughout the plain, both turbines exploded into flames. Sebulba’s Pod thrust forward on its own momentum, coming to a rest just outside the arena.
Then there was a second explosion. Softer but growing louder by the nanosecond. An explosion of voices and cheers and beeps and whistles and musical instruments.
“SKYWALKERRRRR!” bellowed Fode/Beed’s ecstatic voice.
Anakin hurtled into the arena. Alone.
The winner.
At this point, readers who chose to follow the adventure in the Star Wars Adventures Game Book can return to Podrace to Freedom.
“YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT! YOU DID IT!”
Kitster’s shouting drowned out all other sounds. But Anakin didn’t mind. Not a bit. He felt himself being lifted high in the air. He saw a bl
ur of faces — tan, brown, blue, green, mottled, smooth — creatures from all over the Outer Rim, smiling with admiration and recognition. They knew him now. They knew who he was. From now on, it would no longer be Anakin the slave, Anakin the little boy.
It would be Anakin Skywalker, youngest-ever victor of the Boonta Eve Classic.
As he circled around on a sea of shoulders, Anakin spotted one cross face hovering above the others — Watto’s. The Toydarian was nose to nose with Qui-Gon, shouting.
“You!” Watto’s voice rang out. “You swindled me! You knew the boy was going to win — somehow you knew it! I lost everything!”
Qui-Gon calmly smiled. “Whenever you gamble, my friend, eventually you’ll lose. Bring the parts to the main hangar…”
Anakin could no longer hear the argument. But he saw the wisdom in Qui-Gon’s actions now. The Jedi was not a gambler after all. He had merely used Watto’s weakness against him, to get the T-14 hyperdrive generator Watto should have sold him in the first place.
After the press interviews, the congratulations, and the brief holo op with Jabba himself, Anakin could enjoy his victory with people he cared about. The hangar was finally beginning to clear out.
First Jar Jar gave him a big, squishy hug.
Then Padmé.
Finally, his mom. A long one.
“Ah, gee, enough of this…” Anakin finally murmured.
“It’s so wonderful, Annie,” his mother said. “You have brought hope to those who have none. I’m so very proud of you.”
“We owe you everything,” Padmé added.
Anakin smiled. “Just feeling this good was worth it.”
“Padmé, Jar Jar!” called Qui-Gon from the hangar door. “Let’s go, we’ve got to get these parts back to the ship.”
The eopies were harnessed to rolling containers full of equipment. Qui-Gon mounted one of them and helped Padme climb up behind him. It was hard for Anakin to say good-bye to Padmé, but he knew he had to.
After several tries, Jar Jar managed to climb on the other eopie.
“I’ll return the eopies by midday!” Qui-Gon called over his shoulder.
Shmi and Anakin waved as the others set off.
When Qui-Gon returned to the Skywalkers’ home, he pulled something from his poncho and held it out.
Wupiupi. A fistful of them. More than Anakin had seen in his life.
“These are yours,” Qui-Gon said. “We sold the Podracer.”
“Yes!”
Anakin took the money and raced to Shmi. “Mom! Qui-Gon sold the Pod. Look at all the money we have!”
As he held out the credits, Shmi gasped. “Oh my goodness! That’s wonderful.”
“And,” Qui-Gon said, walking into the room, “Anakin has been freed.”
Anakin whirled around to face him. “What?”
Qui-Gon nodded. “You’re no longer a slave.”
Anakin leaped off the floor. “Did you hear that, Mom!”
“Let’s just say Watto has learned an important lesson about gambling,” Qui-Gon answered.
Shmi beamed at her son. “Now you can make your dreams come true, Annie — you’re free!” She turned to Qui-Gon. “Will you take him with you? Is he to become a Jedi?”
“Our meeting was not a coincidence,” Qui-Gon replied. “Nothing happens by accident. You are strong with the Force, Anakin.”
“A Jedi!” Anakin could barely get the words out. “You mean, I get to go with you in your starship?”
Qui-Gon knelt down to meet him face-to-face. “Anakin, training to be a Jedi will not be an easy challenge. And if you succeed, it will be a hard life.”
“But it’s all I want — what I’ve always dreamed about. Can I go, Mom?”
Shmi just looked at him silently, her face composed but mournful.
“This path has been placed before you, Annie,” she said. “The choice to take it is yours alone.”
Anakin took a deep breath. He didn’t want to anger or worry his mother. A Jedi’s life was dangerous.
But then again, so was a Podrace.
“I want to go,” Anakin said softly.
“Then pack your things,” Qui-Gon replied. “We haven’t much time.”
“YIPPIIIIEEEEE!”
Anakin ran to his mother, gave her a big hug, and headed for his room.
Mom.
He stopped short. He’d been so excited, he’d forgotten to ask about her. “What about Mom?” he said. “Is she free, too? You’re coming, aren’t you, Mom?”
“I tried to free your mother, Annie,” Qui-Gon said gently, “but Watto wouldn’t have it.”
“But the money from selling —”
“It’s not nearly enough.”
Anakin blinked.
No. This couldn’t be.
Anakin knew the whole thing had been too good to be true. How could he leave without the one person who meant everything to him? How would she survive? How would he survive?
Shmi and Qui-Gon exchanged a look. And in that glance, Anakin realized she had thought about this long and hard. So had Qui-Gon.
“Son, my place is here,” Shmi said, sitting next to him. “My future is here. It is time for you to let go — to let go of me. I cannot go with you.”
“I want to stay with you!” Anakin replied. “I don’t want things to change.”
“You can’t stop change any more than you can stop the suns from setting. Listen to your feelings, Annie. You know what’s right.”
Anakin’s head sank. The thoughts inside him swirled, making him dizzier than he’d been in any Podrace. It was an impossible choice. Freedom at home or service to the Galactic Republic. Life with the only person who loved him or the rugged life of a lone warrior.
Son of a tatooine slave.
Jedi Knight.
There was only one choice.
When Anakin looked up, he had to blink away tears. “I’m going to miss you so much, Mom…”
Saying good-bye to C-3PO was strange. But seeing Kitster outside his front door was even worse.
“There are so many of us who want you to stay, Annie,” Kitster said. “You’re a hero.”
Anakin pulled some wupiupi out of his pocket and handed them to his friend. Kitster could use them more than he could now. “I — I have to go.”
“Thanks for every moment you’ve been here,” Kitster said. “You’re my best friend.”
“I won’t forget,” Anakin promised.
Qui-Gon was already walking down the street. Anakin pulled himself up and started after him.
There was no turning back now. He had to look forward. He had to cut off the pain that was building within him.
The Jedi Master’s steps were huge. It would be hard to fill them, but that was Anakin’s life now. A life of bravery. Challenge. Danger. Loneliness.
Anakin turned back, one last time.
His feet stopped moving.
And he ran back.
Who was he fooling? This was his life. His mother. His people. “I can’t do it!” he cried, folding himself into his mother’s warm tunic. “I just can’t!”
Shmi looked at him with an expression full of emotions — sorrow, forgiveness, joy, and pride — that seemed to wash over her like a dancing flame. “Annie, remember when you climbed the great dune in order to chase the Banthas away so they wouldn’t be shot? Remember how you collapsed several times, exhausted, thinking you couldn’t do it?”
Anakin nodded.
“This is one of those times when you have to do something you don’t think you can do. I know how strong you are, Annie. I know you can do this.”
“Will I ever — see you again?”
“What does your heart tell you?”
Anakin listened, but all he could hear was static and confusion. “I hope so… yes… I guess.”
Shmi smiled. “Then we will see each other again.”
“I — I will become a Jedi and I will come back and free you, Mom. I promise.”
“No matter where yo
u are, my love will be with you. Now be brave, and don’t look back. Don’t look back.”
Anakin turned. He began to walk.
And he didn’t look back.
“Probe droid,” Qui-Gon said, inspecting the hunk of smoldering metal on the ground before them.
The droid had been hovering near them as they left the outskirts of Mos Espa. Anakin hadn’t seen it, but Qui-Gon had — and he’d wasted no time slashing it to bits.
“Very unusual,” Qui-Gon continued. “Not like anything I’ve seen before. Come on!”
He began running.
Anakin followed him out into the desert. The Jedi took long strides, and Anakin was determined to keep pace, but in the heat and dust it was impossible. “Master Qui-Gon, wait!” he yelled.
Qui-Gon turned, and then stopped short. His eyes were riveted on the horizon, where a patch of billowing dust came toward them fast. “Anakin, drop!”
Anakin fell to the ground. Over his head raced a repulsor-powered speeder, nearly touching his hair.
A flash of light sliced through the air toward Qui-Gon.
Qui-Gon’s lightsaber seemed to materialize in his hands. With reflexes faster than any Anakin had ever seen, he blocked the blast.
A dark figure leaped off the speeder, his black robe flaring out behind him. His face was tattooed red and black, and he held an enormous, double-bladed lightsaber.
He struck at Qui-Gon with a murderous fierceness.
“Annie, get to the ship,” Qui-Gon shouted. “Take off! Go!”
Anakin ran the rest of the way to the ship. He raced up the ramp and inside. Padmé was there, working with the ship’s captain.
“Qui-Gon’s in trouble!” Anakin cried out. “He says to take off!”
“I don’t see anything,” the captain said.
Anakin pointed toward the distant dust cloud. “Over there — fly low!”
The pilot jumped into his seat. Padmé pulled Anakin inside, and the ship took off with the ramp still hanging open.
Anakin held tight. Jar Jar was on board, and R2-D2 — along with another, younger man.
As they swooped down toward the battle, Qui-Gon leaped onto the ramp.
As Qui-Gon tumbled inside, the ramp shut and the ship blasted away.