Obi-Wan zigzagged through the air of the stadium, sailing through the loops and hitting the laser targets. Vista gave up trying to unseat him and concentrated on gaining points. Soon the humming peepers had all been hit. The glowing hoops dissolved into particles of light.
The stadium went black. Obi-Wan immediately pulled back on the swoop’s power and hovered in the air, waiting. Below, on the mid-level landing platform, a group of holographic Gladiator Droids appeared. Bright orange erupted from flame projectors in their fists. A bright red laser winked in the center of their foreheads.
Obi-Wan flew down to the landing platform and leaped off the swoop. The Gladiator Droids shot blaster fire at him, just harmless points of light. The flames licked close to him but there was no heat. He could not use the race weapon or his lightsaber against light, so he had to dodge the flames and blaster bolts.
This obstacle was similar to an exercise called Art of Movement at the Temple, introduced to him when he was just a student, even younger than Anakin. The students were required to keep moving, dodging both lines of light that zigzagged the room and points that scampered randomly. The objective was simply to get from the door to the opposite wall. The exercise required split-second timing and an agile body. Some students were better than others at compressing their limbs, jumping, and flattening themselves against the floor. As a human, Obi-Wan was hampered by his solid skeletal frame, but he had practiced for hours until he could judge the best way to move with a minimum of effort. He had even had private tutorials with the Jedi Knight Fy-Tor-Ana, known for her grace.
All of the lessons came back to him in a rush. He had not trained for this specifically, as Maxo Vista had. He hadn’t practiced the Art of Movement in years. But he could feel his body respond and move even as the laser points skittered around him. Using the Force, he was able to gauge where the pinpoints of light would hit.
Maxo Vista had trained for this. He was adept at movement. The crowd gasped at the flexible grace of the two opponents. Obi-Wan got close enough to one Gladiator Droid to score a point. Vista scored another. In the dim light, the shimmering outlines of the Droids melted against the velvet darkness.
Obi-Wan could feel the Force around him and feel the ripples of disturbance. Maxo Vista’s surprise was near. Even as he dodged the light and moved in to strike another blow at a Gladiator Droid, he knew what was coming.
One of the Droids was real.
Obi-Wan had to use the Force. It was too dark to be absolutely sure. The lights exploding around him could be lethal or not. He noted now that Maxo Vista was pretending to be slow, keeping Obi-Wan between him and the fire.
He saw a Gladiator Droid well behind the others, its blasters firing. That was the one.
He unsheathed his lightsaber. With his lightsaber in one hand and his event weapon in the other, he leaped. With one hand, he hit each laser target on each droid, twisting and hanging in midair. With the other, he deflected the real blaster fire.
He ended with a midair somersault and sank his lightsaber into the real droid’s control panel.
The counter rang furiously. The scoreboard lit up. The crowd was on its feet now, stamping its approval.
The lights in the stadium came up. Maxo Vista raised his head from his position crouching on the floor. He blinked, surprised to hear the boos directed at him.
The crowd screamed for the Jedi. But Obi-Wan had disappeared.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Doby and Deland paced nervously by the Podracer. “Maybe we should check the intake valves again,” Doby said.
“We’ve checked them three times,” Anakin said. “Everything is fine. We’re ready to go.”
He was strapped into his seat, his goggles pushed up on his head. The official starter stood talking to the Podrace organizer. Hekula was receiving last-minute instructions from Sebulba.
It all felt so familiar. He could be back in the Mos Espa Grand Arena again. His mother was watching. Qui-Gon and PadmŠ were there. He wanted to do his best for them.
Anakin swallowed against the emotion that swelled in him. He was older now. Things were more complicated. His emotions would never be so simple again. But here in the cockpit doubt fell away and uncertainty had no place. Left behind was only one goal: winning. “All right, then,” Deland said. He held his arm carefully against his side, and his face was pale. “Good luck, Anakin. We won’t forget this. Neither will Djulla.”
“We shouldn’t have let you, but we had to.” Doby leaned in to speak to him earnestly. “Don’t worry. You’re going to win. Just don’t crash.”
Anakin grinned. “Right.”
“Come on, Doby, you’re making him nervous.” Deland yanked his brother away.