Beneath his mask, Vader smiled at his son's infectious joy. The Sith Lord's body relaxed for the first time in years, enjoying the presence of his healthy son. He could almost forget that he was Vader.
Luke eyes widened, and his heart thumped with excitement as he fidgeted in the command seat across the aisle from his father on the Lambda-class shuttle. Two Imperial officers piloted the craft headed to the other side of Tatooine—Mos Espa.
With his blond curls bobbing, the boy peered out the large cockpit screen as the shuttle approached the landing pad. He pretended to pull the control to lower the stabilizers and to turn the wheel to level out the ship on approach while the pilots mirrored his motions to land the craft.
Vader dreamed of the day he would take Luke up on his first training spaceflight. It won't be a shuttle, though. His first spaceflight will be in a fighter. It is his destiny.
The craft landed outside the Grand Arena of Mos Espa. The arena bracketed the pod race track across the desert canyons and monoliths. The repulsor lifts pumped out excess steam while the ramp lowered.
After landing behind the shuttle, two troop transports deployed stormtroopers to the site. The troops covered all entrances, guarded each section of the stands, and took up positions in the pit.
Lord Vader exited the craft with Luke at his side. The populace crowding the avenue pulled back in fear. The Sith Lord ignored the populace's fear, leading his apprentice and attaché toward the pits.
Luke ducked as a pod sped over his head. "Did it start already? Did we miss it?"
"No, Luke. These are the practice laps. Each driver has the course for two laps without interference." The dark lord watched the pod speed away with longing.
The boy twisted his neck, scanning the area around him as they entered the canyon that formed the pit stops. Pods of all shapes and sizes were parked along the red-rock canyon. Pilots and pit crews inspected the crafts and made tiny adjustments.
The boy stopped at one that had four engines hooked together with crossed cables. He ran his hand on the fuselage of one of the engines, but the pilot cursed him in Huttese.
"Luke." Vader pulled the boy's hand away from the pod. "Sabotage is one of the primary strategies in pod racing. Always wait for an invitation before touching someone else's pod."
"Sorry—oh, wow! What are those?" He pointed to a string of flags that festooned the pit area.
"Those are the pod racing flags of the winners of the Boonta Eve Classic."
Vader breathed a few cycles before turning to Piett. The Sith Lord pointed to a flag with a white background and a sky-blue, diagonal cross on the hoist edge. A golden monogram adorned the upper corner. "Lieutenant, I want that one brought to me immediately."
"Yes, my lord." Piett skittered away to the nearest stormtrooper.
Vader led Luke through the pit area, stopping at a pod that looked vaguely familiar. A crew of beat-up astromech droids worked on the pod's engines while a small Rodian flicked switches, trying to turn the engines over.
A blue Toydarian hovered around the area, striking the juvenile Rodian on the shoulder with a stick. The insect-like creature cursed in Huttese before continuing his tirade in Galactic Basic. "Challu, if you don't get this fixed right now, you are going to lose your practice laps. If you lose this race, we are ruined. I have barely stayed afloat after your last cra—"
Vader stretched forth his hand, giving the Toydarian a gentle warning squeeze around his neck. "Sa ya do Hodrudda, Watto?" Vader asked in Huttese.
The Toydarian's eyes bulged as he turned his gaze to the Sith Lord. His voice trembled. His wings fluttered. "No, Lord Vader. Nothing to disturb you."
Vader looked at Luke, his eyes upset. He could feel Luke's compassion for this creature. With shame, he felt his son's disgust at his methods.
As Vader released the man, a deep rumbling laugh emanated from behind him. The Sith Lord turned his attention to the source of that laugh, finding a gigantic slug-like Hutt blocking the avenue between the pods.
The large slug boomed, "Conche, Talkdroid."
A silver protocol droid waddled forward. "Yes, your supreme excellency."
The Hutt ordered something in Huttese, to which the protocol droid promptly turned to Lord Vader and said, "The Great Jabba the Hutt—"
Vader raised his hand, silencing the droid. "Noah keata. Achuta, Jabba."
Jabba said in Huttese, "Lord Vader. I am honored by your visit. I hope we can both be reasonable here. I'm sure the Empire would not want an entire system rebelling because of a small . . ." He waved his miniscule hand at the arena. ". . . entertainment venture."
Vader crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I think we can come to a profitable understanding for all involved."
The slug laughed. "And what does the Empire desire?"
"An end to slavery in this system, immediately."
"You ask the impossible. It would destroy our economy."
"It would be a shame if I had to leave a garrison here, permanently. Tatooine would make an excellent maximum-security prison." Vader tilted his head.
"I will issue the decree tomorrow."
Vader stepped forward, clenching an invisible hand around the corpulent slug. "You will issue it today at the end of the race."
The slug's eyes widened, and his large tongue flapped. "Yes, Lord Vader."
Vader released him. "There, I knew we could come to an agreeable solution. Now, if you'll excuse me, my s—apprentice and I would like to view the races from that box. Clear it." The Sith Lord pointed to a circular box on a pole in the middle of the arena with an hydraulic lift.
"Of course, Lord Vader." The slug slithered away from Vader, speaking earnestly to his majordomo, a Twi'lek named Bib Fortuna.
One of the aide's long, green lekku was draped around his neck like a scarf, while the other hung loosely at his back. The man clenched his fingers, his pointed fingernails biting into his palm, as Jabba approached. When he smiled, ravenous teeth brushed his scabrous lips.
Deep in muted conversation, Jabba and Fortuna headed for the grand stand.
Vader turned back to the viewing pod, catching sight of the Toydarian. The bug perched on the top of the engine compartment, poking his gnarled fingers in it while the Rodian boy looked on.
Vader asked the young pilot, "What seems to be the problem?"
The pilot took one look at Vader and another at Watto, shaking as he stood. The blue Rodian's extended lips pulled together, his antenna wiggling in fear. "The power couplings won't transfer fuel. Only one engine is firing."
Watto hit the boy on the back of the head. "Address him as 'my lord,' Challu." The Toydarian turned to Vader. "My apologies. The boy is simple, stupid. You know these Rodians."
"Yes, yes, I do. When I was a boy, my best friend was a Rodian. I find the species to be more intelligent than certain Toydarians."
The Toydarian's eyes grew even bigger as the bug-like creature flew out of reach of the dark lord. He's grunts and moans permeated the air.
Luke tugged at his father's cloak as he stood on his toes, trying to see into the engine compartment.
Vader stepped forward, holding his hand out. "May I? I have some experience with these engines."
The boy looked at Watto. When the blue Toydarian nodded, the Rodian handed him the spanner. "Of course, Lord Vader. Thank you."
Vader poked inside the compartment, lifting wires and pushing tubing around. "Pilex driver and some pinchers. Luke, do you see the problem here?"
The boy jumped up, trying to see inside the compartment. He whined, "I can't see."
Vader waved his hand, lifting the small boy with the Force.
"Yeah, I see it. The line linking the regulator to the power flow's been severed."
"Very good. How do we repair this?"
"Replace the line with a new one."
"And if we don't have a new one?"
Luke scrunched his face together as he thought. "Fuse binding tape over the split and seal it with a heat torch?"
Vader nodded his approval. He grabbed the binding tape that lay on the top of the engine. It did not take long before Vader had repaired the craft and tested it by flicking on the switches with the Force. He lowered Luke to the ground while Challu climbed back into the cockpit.
The left engine sputtered a few times, but by the fourth click of the switch, the engine ignited, its ventral wings flaring.
"Luke, stand back, or you might get sucked into the jet!"
The boy jumped back quickly.
Vader looked at the small Rodian. He took a deep breath before saying the words he had neither heard nor said in over eight years. "May the Force be with you."
"Thank you, Lord Vader." The pilot settled his helmet onto his bulbous head and revved the engines.
Vader pulled Luke back to safety as Challu sped off on his practice rotations. The pod flew through arena, blazing out onto the Starlite Flats, the easiest part of the course typified by flat sand dunes.
Vader led Luke to the spectator pod. They climbed into it quickly and activated the lift with a press of a button.
He grabbed a handheld viewer from the slot in front of him and pulled up the map of the circuit. He showed the boy the route, pointing out the different features and dangers of the course.
"When they first leave the arena, the pilots hit the Starlite Flats. This is a wide area where many with faster pods but less maneuverability try to gain a forward position before the enter the curving canyon that slices through the Waldo Flats, here. This is a dangerous canyon, with walls that narrow to less than a meter of excess room on either side. One wrong jiggle, and you end up splattered against the canyon wall."
"Wow! That would be so cool."
"But also dangerous for the other drivers. If the fireball explodes too close to another driver, it can take out many pods at once. No one wants to see a collision in this stretch."
Luke answered with an open-mouthed "Oh."
"The next stretch is the Mushroom Mesa. The pilots weave around bulbous monoliths, trying to find an advantage. If they get too close to one, or go around on the wrong side of one, they will crash into the stone. Then they drop down this escarpment, the Metta Drop. They have to watch out for changes in air temperature and high winds that can pull a pod out of control. If they make it this far, they then speed across Ebe Crater Valley to the Notch where—"
Luke pointed at the screen and shouted with glee. "That's Beggar's Canyon. I've flown through that. I recognize those houses in the cliffs."
"It's one thing to ride along in a speeder through here, Luke. I can assure it is quite another to race a pod through it."
"No, I flew the Skyhopper through it. The wind gusts were frightening!"
"Your uncle let you fly a Skyhopper through that?"
Luke smiled in mischief. "I didn't say he let me. I just didn't tell him where I was going."
Vader shook his head at his son and rumpled his hair before showing Luke the Arch Canyon. "The course continues—"
A fanfare from the orchestral balcony cut off Vader's words. Luke and Vader turned their heads to the royal box where Jabba slid forward under the prime arch. "Chowbaso! Bis doe chawa!"
The engines fired up as the flags of the different racers paraded past the mob of pods.
"It's starting! It's starting!" Luke grabbed onto his father's arm. He hopped, trying to see over the rim of the box.
The dark lord grabbed his small son in his arms and lifted him onto his shoulders.
Luke grabbed the top of his helmet. "Whoa! We're so far up. This is awesome."
Jabba bit the head off a frog and spit it at a metal gong, starting the race. The racers headed off, causing Luke to bounce up-and-down on his father's shoulders and pound on the top of his helmet.
"Luke." Vader grabbed the boy's hand firmly. "Not on the helmet."
"Sorry, Daddy! Look, Challu's closing in on that red one."
Vader lifted the view screen so that they could both watch the video feed captured by the multiple drones positioned throughout the course. "There they go into the canyon."
Luke strained his neck down, watching the screen. "Ooh! That was bad." One of the pods ran into the side of the canyon, taking out another pod as well. A fireball flared, scorching the wall and a few trailing pods.
"And that's why you will never race pods." Vader's voice rumbled his disapproval.
"But I see right before things happen. I could avoid it."
Vader growled at that remark.
"Okay, no pods." He rested his head on the top of his father's helmet and clutched his hands around his father's forehead.
For Vader, there was nothing like this feeling—having a son sitting on his shoulders watching the races with him—two of his three passions. If only Padmé were here with them, everything would be right.
Did you know . . .
● The flag Vader requested was his own.
● Now Vader understands the fear his mother experienced every time he raced.
Tell me what you think . . .
● Will Jabba hold up his end of the deal, or has Vader met his match?