by Troy Denning
Maybe she was simply growing accustomed to the place. Or maybe the Force was acting on her again, awakening some spiritual connection passed down from her father. Leia could not say which. She only knew that she was growing steadily more unsettled, that she felt like she was losing control of the mission. In everything she was learning about her father, in her dreams aboard the Falcon and during her previous visit, there was no denying the hand of the Force. It was not guiding her exactly, but it was certainly touching her, nudging her down dark alleys she did not want to explore.
The landspeeder entered a vast sunken arena at the edge of town. Though there was no barricade to control access, a metal sign arching over the outer edge of the lot read, MOS ESPA SWOOP ARENA. The SWOOP had been riveted over another word, with the PO still visible at the beginning and CING at the end.
Tamora directed Chewbacca around the far end and down to a row of dilapidated hangars designated OWNERS’ ROW by a small sign display. The hangar doors had corrosion stains bleeding down the front and towers of sand piled high in the corners, and they looked as though they had not been opened in years. But most had Wookiee-sized portals in the center, with fans of hard-packed ground in front suggesting regular use.
Chewbacca opened the cowling, and they climbed out of the speeder’s climate-controlled comfort into the dusty heat of a Tatooine late afternoon. Tamora—who’d had the foresight to leave her children with Wald—started toward a hangar in the center, where a small servo-droid greeter stood just inside an extra set of transparisteel doors. Leaving Chewbacca and C-3PO behind to make themselves a little less identifiable, Leia and Han raised the hoods of their sand cloaks and followed.
As they approached the doors, Han leaned close and asked, “How are you doing?”
“Fine.” Leia knew what he was really asking, but she did not want to talk about it. “Why shouldn’t I be?”
“I didn’t say you weren’t.” Han was the one person who never seemed to notice her don’t press it tone. “I just want to know what was going on back there with Wald. Why should you care if he thinks Anakin was some sort of hero?”
“Obviously, I don’t.” Leia regretted her sharp tone as soon as she spoke. She stopped and took Han’s hand. “I’m sorry. I’m having a hard time with all this pro-Darth-Vader blather.”
“Yeah, I keep wondering when somebody’s going to tell us about the real kid,” Han said. “The one who used to tie grenades on bantha tails.”
Leia smiled, weakly. “It’s a little worse than that.”
Han lifted his brow and waited.
“Not here.” Leia nodded toward the doors. “We’ve got a swoop to borrow.”
“Later, then.” Han smiled and kissed her, then tightened his sand hood and turned toward the doors. “If they have a holograph of your father mounted on a pedestal or something, try not to start an argument. It’s going to be hard enough to convince this Ulda to help us save her ex-husband.”
As it turned out, Ulda’s was not the kind of place to display a holograph of anyone. A combination lounge and betting parlor that had been converted from an old Podracer owner’s booth, it was clean but austere, with a bar and several betting windows in the rear. In front, three rows of plastoid tables were arrayed before a transparisteel wall that overlooked the track below. Though no race appeared imminent, a dozen beings sat together down in front, making notes on datapads and watching swoop mechanics take test runs.
Leia was surprised to feel her heart flutter as she began to see the magnitude of the dilapidated racing track. At least five hundred meters wide, it stretched a full two kilometers in each direction before vanishing from sight, curving away into a labyrinth of rocky pinnacles on one end and emerging from an immense plain of gray dustpack on the other.
This was where her father had won his freedom. Looking out at the enormous banks of seats, Leia could almost hear the crowd roaring as Anakin Skywalker came tearing across the finish line. At that moment, he could not have known the path that lay before him. Life would have seemed so full of promise to him—to the only human ever to win the Boonta Eve Classic. Had he foreseen that day what winning would mean—what his victory would eventually cost him and the galaxy—would he have come in second? Would he have had the courage to remain a slave here on Tatooine?
A human woman of about fifty emerged from behind the bar and approached, her gaze locked on Tamora with a look that could only be described as astonished. Slender and tall, she had the high cheekbones and arced eyebrows of a Kuati aristocrat, an impression reinforced by her broad-shouldered gown and bejeweled belt.
“Well, well… Tamora Spice.” She stopped and put her hands on her hips, looking Tamora up and down. “You’ve put on a few kilos—but bearing the children of another woman’s man will do that to you.”
Tamora’s face reddened, but she resisted the temptation to make a sharp reply. “You look as lovely as ever, Ulda.”
Ulda flipped a nonchalant hand. “Money.” She smiled bitterly. “Speaking of which, I hear Kit put that awful holocube of his in Mawbo’s auction.”
Tamora nodded.
“Good riddance, I say.” Ulda finally glanced at Tamora’s companions, then—apparently seeing no sign beneath their sand hoods that they were beings of consequence—returned to tormenting Tamora. “Now that the Rendala Estate is closed, I suppose finances must be tight.”
“We’re managing.”
Ulda pushed out her lip. “Pity. I thought you might be here for a loan.”
“As a matter of fact,” Han said. He stepped forward, his patience with the woman’s harassment coming to a quick end—as Leia had known it would. “We do—”
Leia caught him by the wrist. “Let Tamora handle this.”
“Yes, do.” Ulda shot Han a laser-hot look. “Whoever you are.”
Clearly, she was a woman who had been nursing a grudge for a long time, and Tamora was playing her just right. Leia pulled Han back to her side and whispered for him to stay there.
Tamora swallowed, then said, “My friend is right. We do need to borrow something.”
Ulda’s face brightened. “Really?” Still ignoring Tamora’s companions, she took her to a nearby table and sat down. She did not invite Tamora to sit with her. “Continue. I’m going to enjoy this.”
“Maybe not,” Tamora said. “Kit’s in trouble.”
Ulda chuckled. “And why shouldn’t I enjoy that? I think I deserve it.”
“He’s in big trouble,” Tamora said. “The Imperials are looking for him.”
“For Kit?” Ulda’s expression hovered somewhere between shock and doubt. “Whatever for?”
Instead of answering, Tamora said, “He took Wald’s swoop.”
Ulda’s face fell. “He did what?”
“He took Wald’s swoop into Arch Canyon,” Tamora said. “To get away from the Imperials.”
“Kit can’t ride swoops! And Arch Canyon…” Ulda let the sentence trail off and shook her head, then looked up at Tamora again. “You still haven’t told me why the Imperials are looking for him.”
Deciding now would be a good time to take control of the conversation, Leia stepped to Tamora’s side. “He stole a painting they wanted.”
Ulda stared up for a moment, obviously waiting for Leia to lower her sand hood. When Leia did not, Ulda shrugged and did not object. On Tatooine, it was wise not to press those who were reluctant to reveal their faces.
Instead, Ulda asked, “Killik Twilight?”
Leia nodded.
“Why?”
“We’re still trying to figure that out,” Leia said.
“To save it,” Tamora insisted. “A Devaronian tried to destroy it at the auction, and Wald says now the Imperials think there’s something hidden in it.”
“Yeah, Kit was just trying to be helpful,” Han said, ever the cynic. “And maybe he thought a few credits would be nice, too.”
Ulda considered this, then shook her head sadly. “Either way, I’m going to miss him.” She tu
rned back to Tamora. “He used to come in here from time to time—at least when he still had something to bet.”
“He did?” Tamora gasped. “In here?”
Ulda smiled sadly. “I knew he didn’t tell you. Men—you can’t trust them.”
Tamora summoned her resolve. “Wald said you have Rao’s swoop.”
Ulda shrugged. “So?”
“So, I’m going after Kit,” Han said.
Ulda’s glare was directed at Leia. “Is that so?”
“My husband is an excellent swoop pilot.” Leia motioned Han back. Kuati women rarely liked to be addressed by strange men. “And I’ll be glad to pay for its use.”
“That bike’s not for rent,” Ulda said. “Maybe I can let him take another.”
“Another one can’t catch Wald’s,” Tamora said. “If Kit sees someone coming up behind him, he’ll hit the thrusters and be gone. You know that.”
“We’ll purchase Rao’s swoop,” Leia offered. “Is fifteen thousand enough?”
That caught Ulda’s attention. She looked up into the darkness beneath Leia’s hood, either trying to guess the identity of her visitor or calculating how much she could take her for.
“Thirty thousand,” Leia said. “Kitster already has a twenty-minute lead.”
“And you’re not going to change that by getting your man killed.” Ulda stood and turned to the group gathered down in the front of the parlor. “Ody, go fetch Rao. I need her to take her old swoop out—”
“You don’t want to do that, ma’am.” A blue-skinned Er’Kit with a large egg-shaped head and downturned ears turned to look back at her. “She couldn’t pilot a landspeeder right now.”
“Again?”
The Er’Kit nodded and went back to his datapad.
Leia exchanged a relieved glance with Han, then said, “I can’t imagine that thirty thousand isn’t enough, but—”
“It’s not the credits,” Ulda said. “I’d give it to you for twenty. But that thing’s been the death of six riders. I bought it just to keep it off the track.”
Han stepped forward. “Look, lady, if it has a seat and a thruster, I can fly it.”
To Leia’s surprise, Ulda did not lash out at Han for daring to speak to her. She merely studied him, then turned to Leia. “Let me see him ride a regular swoop first.”
“We don’t really have the time—”
“If he’s good enough to handle Rao’s swoop, you’ll make up the time. It’ll take ten minutes.” Without awaiting a reply, Ulda turned to the front of the parlor again. “Ody, take this man down to the hangar. Let him take that old Novastar around the test track once.”
The Er’Kit rose and, hobbling badly, started toward them. “The Novastar?”
“The Novastar. Do we need to have your ears flushed again?” Ulda turned to Leia. “Podracers. You have to wonder whether they have half a brain left because they used to race, or they used to race because they had half a brain.”
It was a nice cover, but Leia was too careful a listener to have missed the surprise in the Er’Kit’s voice. There was something wrong with the Novastar. She turned to Han.
“Take the Wookiee along and give that swoop a close look. If you don’t like it, ask for another.” Leia felt bad enough about dragging Han into this mess without putting him at unnecessary risk. She turned back to Ulda and narrowed her eyes. “I’m sure Ulda wouldn’t mind.”
“What’s not to like?” Han gave a quick head tip to show that he understood the warning, then turned to follow Ody. “They haven’t made swoops like Novastars in twenty years.”
Ulda smiled. “Your man does seem to know his swoops. Perhaps you’d care for a drink? It will be a few minutes before they’re on the track.”
“Eyeblaster.” It was what Leia always ordered in her tough-girl persona. “Atomized, not fizzed.”
“The only way.” Ulda turned to Tamora. “Would you mind? I’m sure you remember where everything is.”
Tamora glowered, then put on a false smile. “Of course not.”
Whether Tamora intended it that way or not, it was the perfect play. Ulda watched her go behind the bar and smirked comfortably.
“Tamora was my best mixer.” She gestured toward the front of the parlor. “A pity she had to steal my man.”
Leia descended the stairs to the forwardmost row of tables, where the beings with the datapads sat watching the swoop tests. Most were simply old for their species, but one—a jagged-toothed Veknoid whose face was all mouth—was as hunched and battered as Ody, missing an arm and badly scarred from burns.
“Was that Veknoid a Podracer as well?” Leia asked.
“They aren’t hard to identify,” Ulda said. “Even swoop racers don’t look that bad.”
Motioning Leia to follow, Ulda led the way over to the Veknoid and leaned down close to his ear. It was a melted mess.
“Teemto!” Ulda was practically shouting. “Tell this lady about your Podracing days.”
The Veknoid ignored her. Down on the test track, a swoop abruptly lost power and settled into the sand. He made an entry on the datapad in his lap, shielding it with his body so Leia and Ulda could not see.
“I’m talking into your good ear,” Ulda said. “I know you can hear.”
Finally, Teemto looked away from his datapad. “It was fast.”
“That’s all?” Leia asked. “Just fast?”
Tamora appeared with two drinks on a tray. Teemto grinned and took one of the drinks.
He winked his good eye. “Real fast.”
Ulda’s face reddened. She did not like being embarrassed in front of a guest—and especially not by a male. “And you would know,” she said. “As I recall, that’s how you lost your arm. Going too fast.”
Teemto frowned and raised a finger to clean his ear.
“Um, Ulda, there’s no need to press,” Leia said. She had lived with Han long enough to know what the Kuati was doing; there was no faster way to make a pilot talk than to challenge his skills. “If Teemto doesn’t feel like discussing it…”
Ulda ignored her and pointed at the stump of Teemto’s missing arm. “You heard me. You lost that because you couldn’t handle speed.”
Teemto glared at Ulda a moment, then bared his jagged teeth and turned to Leia. “I was handling the speed just fine, until Hit Man Beedo threw a wrench in my starboard pod.”
“That doesn’t sound very fair,” Leia said.
“Excuses,” Ulda scoffed.
The reason Kitster had taken up with Tamora was growing clearer by the moment, though Leia was having trouble understanding why he had ever married Ulda in the first place. She glanced down at the track. There were a handful of mechanics and riders working in the pit area, but still no sign of Han.
“Tell the lady how your ears got melted off,” Ulda said. When the Veknoid was not quick enough to answer, she added, “Or maybe you’d rather I call in my marker.”
Teemto’s expression changed from one of irritation to one of incredulity, but he grunted and squinted at Leia. “That happened in the Boonta. The Tuskens shot out one of my engines.” He turned back to Ulda. “Got a vid to prove it. Now, want me to tell her how I lost my eye?”
Leia barely heard this last question. “The Boonta? The Boonta Eve Classic?”
“That’s the one,” he said. “The same year that human kid won.”
“Anakin Skywalker?” Leia heard the shock in her voice and realized she was showing too much interest. The smart thing would have been to change the subject and hope no one noticed, but she wanted to know what kind of racer her father had been—how driven he had been to win his freedom. Besides, Han still wasn’t out on the track. “Was the boy as good as they say?”
Teemto studied her for a moment, his big lips starting into a snarl, then he seemed to decide it was not worth the effort of defying Ulda and set the pilfered eyeblaster aside.
“Anakin was great. A human who beat Sebulba head-to-head?” He rubbed his burn scars, not seeming to realize h
e was doing it. “I’m just sorry so much of that race is a blank.”
“But you raced him before that,” Ulda prompted. “Tell her what kind of pilot he was.”
Leia began to wonder if Ulda had guessed her identity; if so, she would only confirm it by changing the subject now. “It sounds like there was a lot of cheating.”
“Not from Skywalker.” Teemto stared through the transparisteel, his thoughts lost in another time, and chuckled. “That little human never cheated—still young enough to think you could win honest, I guess.”
“Never?” Leia found this hard to believe. “Maybe you didn’t notice.”
Now Teemto did snarl. “Lady, you ever see a Podrace?”
Ulda took Leia by the arm. “Everyone says Anakin flew a clean race—apparently, he was one of the few.” She pulled her toward the opposite end of the parlor. “Here’s your man now. Perhaps we should watch from over here.”
Tamora appeared with a fresh eyeblaster. Down on the track, Han and Chewbacca were following Ody out to the test loop, walking a battered swoop between them. The handicappers at the other end of the parlor sat forward murmuring, and Leia’s stomach grew queasy. Han had bored her many times with tales of the races he had won as a boy, which—along with Dewlanna, the old Wookiee cook who had looked after him—seemed to be the only things he recalled fondly from his childhood. But there was something wrong about that bike. Really wrong.
“This has gone far enough,” Leia said to Ulda.
“There’s no need to worry.” Ulda continued to watch them approach the test loop. “If your man is good enough to handle Rao’s swoop, he’ll be fine on this little Novastar.”
Leia recognized a classic Bothan claim test when she saw one—put the subject in a situation where he either had to admit he was lying or prove that he wasn’t—but this one had a hidden twist. And she didn’t like hidden twists, not with Han’s life at risk.