The Dragon in the Dying Star

𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚 𝐄𝐯𝐞

Chapter IV: Boonta Eve

The howling winds of Tatooine sang a song of ominous passion. The giant sandstorm engulfed the town, gusting drifts of sands through its vacant streets. Inside, the two slaves and their guests listened to the winds of Dim-U wail beyond the safety of their hovel.

They sat down to eat Shmi's dinner, the storm still howling without, an eerie backdrop of sound against the silence within. Qui-Gon and Dejah occupied the ends of the table, while Anakin, Jar Jar, Padmé and Shmi sat at its sides. Anakin, in the way of small boys, began talking about life as a slave, in no way embarrassed to be doing so, thinking of it only as a fact of his life and anxious to share himself with his new friends. Shmi, more protective of her son's station, was making an effort to help their guests appreciate the severity of their situation.

"All slaves have transmitters placed inside their bodies," Shmi was explaining.

"I've been working on a scanner to try to locate them, but so far no luck," Anakin said solemnly.

Shmi smiled. "Any attempt at escape..."

"...and they blow you up!" the boy finished. "Boom!"

Jar Jar had been slurping contentedly at his soup, listening with half an ear as he devoured the very tasty broth. He overdid it on hearing this, however, making such a loud noise that he stopped conversation altogether. All eyes turned on him momentarily. He lowered his head in embarrassment and pretended not to see.

Padmé looked back at Shmi. "I can't believe slavery is still permitted in the galaxy. The Republic's antislavery laws should-"

"The Republic doesn't exist out here," Shmi interrupted quickly, her voice hard. "We must survive on our own."

There was an awkward silence as Padmé looked away, not knowing what else to say.

"Have you ever seen a Podrace?" Anakin asked, turning to Dejah in trying to ease the discomfort.

The ebony haired girl nodded her head yes. She glanced at Shmi, noting the sudden concern on the woman's lined face. Jar Jar launched his tongue at a morsel of food nestled deep in a serving bowl at the far end of the table, deftly plucking it out, drawing it in, swallowing it, and smacking his lips in satisfaction. A disapproving look from Qui-Gon and Dejah quickly silenced him.

"They have Podracing on Malastare," the Jedi Master observed. "Very fast, very dangerous."

Anakin grinned. "I'm the only human who can do it!" A sharp glance from his mother wiped the grin from his face. "Mom, what? I'm not bragging. It's true! Watto says he's never heard of a human doing it."

Qui-Gon sent Dejah a glance. Her instincts told her the man was beginning to understand what she herself had felt the very moment the young boy had entered the junk shop hours prior. Qui-Gon studied Anakin carefully. "You must have Jedi reflexes if you race Pods."

Anakin smiled broadly at the compliment. Jar Jar's tongue snaked toward the serving bowl in an effort to snare another morsel, but this time Qui-Gon was waiting, hand moved swiftly, and in a heartbeat he had secured the Gungan's tongue between his thumb and forefinger. Jar Jar froze, his mouth open, his tongue held fast, his eyes wide.

"Don't do that again," Qui-Gon advised, an edge to his soft voice.

Jar Jar tried to say something, but it came out an unintelligible mumble. Qui-Gon released the Gungan's tongue, and it snapped back into place. Jar Jar massaged his billed mouth ruefully.

Anakin's young face lifted to the older man's, and his voice was hesitant. "I... I was wondering something."

Qui-Gon nodded for him to continue.