The first couple of weeks on this alien world proved to be an incredible experience for Harry. It semed that right before Harry came into the world as Anakin, he had recently survived a harrowing pod race, which seemed to be a death-defying ordeal. A mid-race altercation with his rival, Sebulba, had led to a crash that, against all odds, Anakin miraculously survived, much to Sebulba's disapointment. In the world of pod racing, where accidents were usually fatal, surviving even a single incident like this was an impressive feat. Yet Harry's new memories revealed that Anakin had not only survived one such crash but had walked away from five different accidents, each seemingly more deadly than the last.
Harry suspected that it was Anakin's uncanny and almost supernatural senses that allowed him to not only survive these life-threatening accidents but also compete in a sport seemingly dominated by alien competitors. These extraterrestrial racers possessed physical advantages, such as extra limbs, additional eyes, or unique physiological traits, which granted them the upper hand on the racing track – advantages that humans lacked. Harry couldn't help but marvel at Anakin's resilience and extraordinary abilities as he adjusted to the quirks and challenges of this unfamiliar world.
Due to the recent pod race crash, Watto, Anakin's owner and employer, had tasked him with repairing the battered pod racer in preparation for the next race Anakin was entered into.
Meeting Watto on his very first day in this alien world, Harry couldn't help but compare the blue-skinned alien to the memories of his dreadful uncle and aunt. Although slavery was still a grim reality in this place, Watto appeared to be less cruel than Harry's abusive relatives. Nevertheless, Harry felt a strong aversion to any form of servitude, and he knew that, regardless of his original purpose for being here, he was determined to eventually find a way to end the practice of slavery on this planet.
In the following weeks, apart from tending to the pod racer. Watto recognized the value of Harry's now exceptional engineering skills, began using Harry to meet with potential clients, utilizing his expertise to diagnose their needs. Once Harry had performed his assessments, Watto would step in to negotiate and sell whatever he could offer to his potential client.
It was during these conversations that Harry started noticing another surprising ability. One he had originally discounted when he noticed it when conversing with Watto, as he had wondered if it was somehow related to Watto's alien physiology. However, when Harry had met the first client, a fellow human, he was shocked to realize he could suddenly discerned the person's intentions while in close proximity. Drawing from memories of Anakin's discovery of the ability, Harry decided it would be best to keep this ability to himself. He knew that advertising such a skill might lead to stigmatization or exploitation, so he kept it hidden, using it discreetly when needed.
Beyond sensing intentions, Harry was also surprised to find that he had inherited some unexplained extrasensory precognitive perceptions. One evening, as he diligently worked on Anakin's secret project, trying to link up auxiliary power couplings to maintain a steady energy output, he experienced a peculiar feeling. He 'sensed' his mother approaching, prompting him to turn and greet her, assuming he had heard her footsteps. However, as he spun around, his mother was nowhere in sight. A moment of confusion settled in before the door to the room opened, and his mother entered, calling him to supper.
In the beginning, Harry dismissed these experiences as mere coincidences, attributing them to random happenstance. However, over the following weeks, these moments of intuition became more frequent, particularly when he found himself under stress. These inexplicable feelings enabled him to anticipate events and people's intentions. Initially, the disorienting nature of these sensations left him ignoring them as often as he trusted them.
----------------------------------------
Two weeks into his life on this new world, Harry found himself in the cluttered salvage shop, where he had recently concluded a transaction with a customer. As he was tidying up, the distinct approach of Watto, his alien owner, grew louder, and the next words out of Watto's mouth took him by surprise.
"You will race tomorrow, boy!"
Harry's eyebrows shot up at the unexpected exclamation from Watto. This was unexpected for a couple of reasons. Firstly, ever since Anakin's last race, Watto had shown some reluctance to have his slave participate in pod races, at least unless the potential prize was substantial. Secondly, it was only that very morning that Harry had finished repairing the podracer, and they hadn't even had the chance to test it yet.
In addition to the unexpectedness of Watto's announcement, Harry couldn't help but feel extremely apprehensive about the idea of participating in an actual podrace. Everything he had gathered about podracing, including his own memories, indicated that it was exponentially more perilous than even his most harrowing experiences on a broomstick, like his life-threatening encounter with a Hungarian Horntail during the Triwizard Tournament, which he had been lucky to walk away from. Anakin may have possessed an uncanny knack for surviving these high-speed high-stake races, but in a sport where casualties were tragically common, Harry was acutely aware that his good fortune might run out, especially given that he had never even tried podracing before.
"Would it be alright if I took the podracer for a practice run tonight? Just to ensure it's in perfect working condition," Harry inquired, hoping to at least get practice in beforehand.
Watto let out what sounded like a derisive laugh, "Oba chee ka? You got any idea what a practice run costs? It's almost as expensive as entering you into the actual race. No, I won't be paying for you just to practice."
Harry's shoulders slumped in resignation. He realized there was little he could say or do at this point to escape the impending race. "If you're certain, Watto..."
"Yes, I'm sure, and you better take good care of that podracer this time. I'm tired of constantly shelling out credits for parts to fix it. Try not to get it damaged this time," Watto instructed. Noticing someone entering the shop Watto pointed. "Oh, a customer. Go see what they want and call me if they are seriously interested in buying something," he commanded, as he turned and flew off in the direction of his office.
"Ah fidget." Harry muttered the curse under his breath, a phrase he had picked up from some of the local boys. He turned and walked over to the tall Ithorian customer who appeared somewhat out of place amidst the scrap of the shop. "Hello, how can I assist you today..."
After finishing the day's tasks at the salvage shop, Harry stepped out into the dry evening heat of Tatooine, securing his scarf around the lower part of his face to shield himself from the blowing sand.
Harry had barely taken five steps when he felt an intuitive nudge that two figures were rapidly approaching from behind … two familiar figures … Turning around with a welcoming smile, Harry greeted his two friends who had been attempting to sneak up on him. "Kitster! Wald! Good to see you! What are you up to?"
Kitster, a fellow human slave, rose from his crouch with a sigh. "Awe fidget, Ani. How do you always do that? One of these days we'll catch you off guard. Wanna come hang out? Wald and I were thinking of trying to sneak into one of the cantinas to chat with the pilots and spacers."
"Sorry guys, I wish I could." Harry said as he glanced back and forth between his friends. He realized he genuinely meant it. While they were not Ron and Hermione, and despite the age gap between them and Harry's 17-year-old mind, Kitster and Wald were incredibly fun to hang out with and were genuinely good-ish individuals.
Kitster raised an eyebrow, looking curious.
Harry explained further, "Yeah … Watto wants me to race tomorrow, and I promised my mom this morning that I would be home for dinner. Don't want to be late if I am racing tomorrow."
"That's awesome Ani! Maybe I'll see if I can sneak out of my duties and watch the race." Kitster said with a grin.
Wald nodded, his large head bobbing up and down, "Best of luck, Ani. Hope you don't die."
Kitster chimed in, his excitement palpable, "Definitely not. I have been stashing away all the druggats I have found to place a bet on you. The Boonta Eve Classic is coming up and as long as you are in the race, I will bet on you with one of the offworlders. They always bet against a human managing to survive, so even if you don't win there are good odds for betting that you will survive."
Harry, while appreciating the vote of confidence from his friend, offered a somewhat strained smile in response. "I'll give it my all to stay alive until then. But I'm not sure if Watto will grant me permission to race."
Wald chimed in with an air of assurance, "Don't worry, Ani. If the pod's in good shape, Watto will let you race. There is too much betting to not participate in the Boonta Eve Classic. You've got a natural talent for podracing, and if you were to employ just a bit of 'creative strategy' like all of the other racers do, there'd be no stopping you."
Harry couldn't help but smile, recognizing that this was a familiar conversation that had occurred between the friends before. "I know, I know, you guys have said it all before, but if I'm going to win, it'll be a victory without any cheating. I want to win in a way that leaves no room for complaints or challenges. Just think about what Sebulba would do if I won by cheating ... So, until Watto makes up his mind about whether I'm racing in the Boonta Eve Classic, I'll do my best to stay alive. But I'll focus on tomorrow's race first."
His declaration elicited laughter from both Kitster and Wald. Kitster then gave him an understanding look and said, "That's a fair point, Ani. Best of luck tomorrow, and don't forget to say hello to your mom for us."
With a friendly farewell, Kitster and Wald turned on their heels, making their way toward the closest cantina, their jovial laughter slowly fading into the distance. Harry watched them depart, a tinge of disappointment lingering as he pondered the missed opportunity to join his friends. Yet, he was determined not to rely solely on Anakin's prior knowledge of podracing and his innate instincts.
As the twin suns cast their long shadows over the desert landscape, Harry resolved to spend most of the night delving into the intricacies of podracing. His goal was to gain a deeper understanding and become more at ease with the sport before the imminent race. He realized that if he survived the ordeal and managed not to make a complete fool of himself, he could consider it a triumph.
The following morning, Harry faced the challenge of getting out of bed after only managing a mere two standard hours of sleep. He had reluctantly torn himself away from the holoscreen late in the night, recognizing the need for a bit of rest before the high-stakes race.
As he sat down at the table, fatigue weighing him down, his mothing noticed his condition.
"Oh, Ani, didn't you sleep at all last night? You look absolutely exhausted," his mother, Shmi, observed with a hint of concern in her voice.
Harry managed a weary smile, still adjusting to the presence of the maternal personality. "I tried, Mom. I think I was just a bit more nervous than usual about today's race."
Shmi's face displayed a mix of sympathy and worry. "Oh, Ani, that's not good at all. Is there any way we can talk to Watto and maybe find a way out of it?"
Harry shook his head, the weariness evident in his movements. This conversation, too, was a well-worn path he traveled many times before. But as he knew all too well, once Watto made up his mind that Anakin was going to race, there was no turning back. Especially not on the morning of the race, with Watto having already shelled out a substantial entrance fee. The reality was that Watto had little incentive to pay someone else when he had Anakin, who would race for free.
"I'll be fine, Mom, I always am. It was just a rough night's sleep," Harry reassured her, though his attempt to sound nonchalant did little to ease the concern etched on her face.
"If you're certain ... I'll be in the stands, watching, as always."
Harry nodded, well aware that there was no convincing her otherwise, a part of him excited by the aspect of having a parent in the stand watching his race.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
----------------------------------------
Sitting in the pod at the starting line, Harry could feel the thrum of electric energy coursing through the powerlines beneath him, resulting in microvibrations that resonated through the pod. It was as though the entire world around him was gradually slowing down, a sensation reminiscent of those moments just before a Quidditch match, albeit magnified many times over. In this heightened state, he found himself observing the world with an increased clarity. Individual grains of sand seemed suspended in mid-air, the once-blurred engine rotors on a neighboring podracer became distinctly visible, and the continuous buzz of microvibrations through his ship resolved into a discernible, rhythmic pattern.
Harry couldn't help but shake his head, once more wondering about the origin of this extraordinary ability. Was it a genetic predisposition, or perhaps some gift from Fate to help him with the trials ahead?
Realizing that he could ill afford to be distracted at this moment, Harry redirected his focus to the course before him. The support crews scrambled off the track, responding to some unseen signal that heralded the imminent start of the race.
As Harry heard the announcements to start the engines being translated into several different languages for all the racers, he prepared to engage the engines. Excitement surged within him, his fingers quivering with anticipation as they hovered over the ignition button.
'Gong'
The resounding sound pierced the air, resonating across the entire field and stadium, a universal signal that the race was beginning. In that electrifying moment, Harry's fingers struck the button with a burst of energy. The distinct roar of his engines resounded, mingling with the intense heat radiating from his own podracer and the immediate heat surge from the nearby pods. The sensations were both exhilarating and nerve-wracking.
As the pod rocketed forward, Harry was thrust forcefully backward into his seat, the sheer acceleration generating a grin that stretched across his face. The rush of speed and the raw power of the podracer were undeniable, and he couldn't help but revel in the sensation.
"Well... this is going to be a blast," he thought aloud to himself, adrenaline surging through his veins.
In what seemed like a heartbeat, Harry had already surged past the nearby pods, leaving them in his wake. To his astonishment, he found himself in second place as they shot off the starting line. The racer in the lead was a diminutive, insect-like alien, a creature with a staggering eight limbs, six of which were in a frenzied dance, expertly manipulating the pod's myriad buttons and levers. The alien's meticulous control was clearly aimed at extracting every last drop of potential from the pod's engine, setting the stage for an exhilarating race to the end.
In the midst of the race, a peculiar twinge of instinct tugged at Harry's senses. Having started to be accustomed to trusting these unsettling sensations, he didn't hesitate and promptly acted on his gut feeling. With swift decisiveness, he adjusted the course of his podracer, altering its trajectory by a distance of approximately two pod lengths.
Less than a heartbeat later, the maneuver he'd initiated bore fruit. He watched as Sebulba, his gesticulating rival, whizzed past, occupying the very space he had vacated just moments earlier. The near-miss sent a rush of adrenaline through Harry's veins, reminding him of the razor-thin margins between victory and defeat in the world of podracing.
Determined to stay focused on the long and grueling race ahead, Harry opted not to overreact or engage in a physical confrontation with Sebulba, whose racer was slightly larger than the one Watto had entrusted to him. Instead, he gritted his teeth and skillfully settled into the draft stream created by Sebulba's pod. This strategic move allowed him to conserve the energy of his engines, biding his time until the moment he could make his move, all while remaining poised and vigilant in the heat of the race.
Over the next ten minutes, Harry proceeded through the race with a sense of cautious enthusiasm. Well, relatively cautious, for in that brief time span, he had come to realize that podracing was unlike anything he had ever encountered before. The velocity at which he hurtled through the course was beyond anything he'd experienced, surpassing even the fastest broomsticks in the Wizarding World. The sheer breakneck speeds left him breathless and exhilarated.
The track itself was a completely different beast, unlike any terrain he had ever navigated. It demanded pilots to skim just feet above the ground, weaving amidst a rugged landscape peppered with boulders the size of Hagrid's hut. The racers careened through dimly lit tunnels, where visibility was virtually non-existent, and negotiated treacherous slopes that plunged at almost vertical angles.
Nevertheless, no matter how daunting the challenges Harry encountered on this treacherous course, he couldn't suppress the smile that crept across his face. The sheer exhilaration of the task at hand, the adrenaline coursing through his veins, and the unmistakable sense of adventure that podracing provided was something he had never known before. The Wizarding World's most daring Quidditch matches couldn't hold a candle to this heart-pounding thrill.
During the initial phase of the race, Harry had managed to keep relatively close to the front-runners. Yet, it was becoming increasingly evident that his ability to stay in the race was due largely to his own piloting skills. His pod, while sturdy and well-maintained, seemed outmatched in terms of speed, size, and maneuverability when compared to the sleek and nimble racers of both Sebulba and the insect-like alien who had managed to maintain a consistent lead.
Twice during the race, Harry's uncanny instincts warned him of competitors making moves from behind, actions that posed no immediate threat to his position. In both instances, he chose to let these racers execute their maneuvers, partly to assess their capabilities and partly to gauge how the current frontrunners would respond. However, in both cases, he bore witness to Sebulba's ruthlessness, as the Dug racer brutally dealt with the attempts to overtake him.
The first challenger, who had attempted to overtake Sebulba, ended up careening into a cliff wall, after Sebulba slammed the weight of his engine into their pod, their podracer reduced to a crumpled heap. The second, daring competitor, who had tried to pass Sebulba and had likewise been on the receiving end of an unfortunate collision, saw one of their engines violently detach from their pod. This resulted in a chaotic spin that sent their racer into a perilous and uncontrolled spiral, narrowly missing Harry's own pod before careening in the opposite direction, colliding with a racer further back in the field.
At this point, it seemed that no racer in the field was daring or desperate enough to make a move to overtake Sebulba, especially in the face of the merciless tactics he employed to maintain his position. The tension on the course remained palpable, as the field remained wary of Sebulba's retaliatory brutality.
As they approached the midpoint of the second lap, Harry and the rest of the racers found themselves navigating a gentle leftward curve, situated at the base of a colossal cliff face. Harry's sharp eyes followed Sebulba's maneuver as the Dug pilot veered right, attempting to create a trajectory that would overtake the race leader.
Just as Sebulba reached the pinnacle of his arc, a subtle sputter emanated from his podracer's engine, a telltale sign of impending trouble. The Dug racer began to lose ground on the race leader, and a knowing smile graced Harry's face. This was the opening he had been waiting for, the opportunity to seize control.
Swiftly, Harry adjusted his podracer to the left, setting his sights on the narrow window of opportunity between the cliff wall and the leader. An odd twinge of unease nagged at him, a momentary doubt that almost gave him pause. He darted a quick glance around, searching for any potential threats, but found none. Deciding to trust his first thought and recognizing the limited window of time he had, he pushed aside the lingering uncertainty.
Harry knew that if he wanted to capitalize on this fleeting chance, he had to act without delay. The opening between the cliff and the leader was rapidly closing, and he had mere seconds to make his move and propel himself into the race lead.
Harry found himself caught in a maelstrom of conflicting emotions. Nevertheless, he steeled himself and made the decision to go for it. With unwavering determination, he engaged the full thrust of his engines, feeling the familiar surge of acceleration propelling him forward once more. The gap between him and the leader gradually shrank as they approached the impending curve, and he couldn't help but hold his breath in anticipation.
Thirty meters...
Twenty meters...
It was an exhilarating race for the lead, and Harry was convinced he was on the brink of overtaking the front-runner. But then, the unmistakable sensation of worry and unease surged within him, threatening to disrupt his focus. It was so overwhelming that he nearly lost control of his podracer, and panic set in.
Risking a quick, sidelong glance to his right, Harry's eyes widened in shock and realization. There, a few meters away, a chuckling Sebulba was deftly maneuvering his left engine, wedging it between Harry's right engine and the pod. This cunning move effectively trapped him, with the podracer's powerful engine poised to immobilize his own. In that precarious moment, Harry found himself caught in Sebulba's relentless grip, a prisoner of the Dug's cunning and ruthless tactics.
For a full second, Harry was paralyzed, his mind racing to process the inexplicable events unfolding before him. Unconscious reactions kicked in as he grappled with what had occurred. He tried to process the notion that Sebulba had somehow managed to cycle through his engines after losing power.
Then, a sudden epiphany struck him like a lightning bolt. It had been a ruse, a cleverly orchestrated act of deception. There was no engine trouble; Sebulba had merely redirected power from his engines into an illegal afterburner. This maneuver created the illusion of power loss while, simultaneously, storing energy to be unleashed when needed and immediately make up for any lost ground.
These afterburners were considered contraband in the world of podracing, forbidden for a simple but harrowing reason. Most individuals' physiologies could not withstand the immediate and brutal surge in speed, a factor that had led to countless fatalities among those who attempted to use them. Survival was a rare exception, occurring in roughly one in a hundred cases. However, Sebulba's unique physiology appeared to be an exception to the rule, allowing him to harness the lethal power of the afterburner without peril.
Harry berated himself internally for falling into Sebulba's trap. He had allowed himself to be goaded into overcommitting, putting himself in this position. He felt like a fool for dismissing his initial instincts. The twinge of unease had been a warning he should have heeded. He resisted the urge to bang his head against the control column, painfully aware that he should have trusted his feelings … he knew them to be true.
However, he couldn't afford to dwell on his mistake. If he was to have any hope of surviving this predicament, he needed to focus on the present moment. He felt the larger, more powerful podracer of Sebulba's gradually, inexorably pushing his own pod toward the cliff face. It inched closer and closer, a steady march toward an imminent collision.
At this point, Harry recognized the dire predicament he was in. Sebulba's pod outclassed his in almost every conceivable aspect, making escape from the impending impact with the wall seem all but impossible. The harsh reality was that he was at the mercy of Sebulba's relentless tactics, and his chances of coming out unscathed were growing increasingly dim.
Aware of the desperate circumstances, Harry knew that his only option was to attempt a maneuver so absurd, so outrageous, that even Sebulba would dismiss it as a futile and reckless endeavor. With the seconds ticking away, he dared to steal another glimpse at his opponent.
As their eyes locked, Harry couldn't help but notice the malevolent smirk etched on Sebulba's face. It was a grim reminder of the impending doom Harry faced. In a last-ditch effort, he exaggeratedly moved to disconnect power from his engines. He hoped that Sebulba, observing this movement, would instinctively slow down, believing that Harry was making a desperate move to cut power to avoid crashing into the cliff wall by dropping back.
However, while it appeared that Harry had cut off power to both engines, in reality, he had intentionally shut down the right engine while simultaneously channeling all available power into the left engine, creating an explosive burst of acceleration. It was a risky gambit, one that he was sure would either propel him to safety or end in a catastrophic failure. But it was a move born of necessity and a refusal to surrender to Sebulba's strategy.
Unprepared for Harry's daring maneuver, Sebulba was slow to react, momentarily caught off guard. Harry watched with bated breath as his pod began to inch forward, freeing itself from the treacherous squeeze between Sebulba's pod and the unforgiving cliff face. However, as only one engine was actively powering his pod while the other functioned essentially as an oversized rudder, the outcome wasn't as smooth as he had hoped.
His pod veered at an almost ninety-degree angle, heading directly into the path of Sebulba's oncoming racer. Harry's heart raced as he leaned forward, struggling to increase the output to both engines. The tension and anxiety that had gripped him before paled in comparison to the sheer panic and urgency he felt now. It was as if time had slowed to a crawl as he watched himself inching forward in what felt like slow motion.
Harry's gaze darted to his right, where the menacing pod of his opponent, piloted by the ever-grinning Sebulba, bore down on him. Sebulba seemed almost eager at the prospect of plowing right through his rival. Just when it seemed that Harry might successfully pass by Sebulba's right engine and evade the impending collision completely, a hiccup rippled through his own engine. It was a momentary but critical loss of power, and in a race where inches meant everything, it proved to be all the margin that fate required.
In a flash, everything seemed to speed up, and Harry braced for the inevitable impact. The tremendous force of Sebulba's engine crashing into the rear of Harry's pod sent violent shockwaves reverberating through his entire body.
Whether it was the result of the collision's violent jolt, the effects of the daring maneuver Harry had executed, a static discharge between the pods, or a cruel act of a power beyond his comprehension, Harry couldn't say. However, he was suddenly confronted with a nightmarish sight. In a horrifying twist of fate, both of his engines lost their magnetic cohesion, and the Steelton cables that tethered them to the pod snapped, launching the powerful engines off into the unforgiving expanse of the Dune Sea.
Deprived of the propulsive force of his engines, there was no means to even attempt to regain control of the pod following the collision. Harry helplessly watched as the world outside the pod disintegrated into a chaotic, disorienting blur. Gravity seeming to pull him in different directions all at once, without the safety straps Harry had no doubt he would have been ejected from the pod at an incredible velocity.
Amid the calamity, the agonizing sounds of metal crunching and glass panels shattering filled his ears. Desperately, Harry reached out in an attempt to stabilize himself, to anchor onto anything within his reach as he was tossed about within the pod's confines.
Time seemed to slow down, but yet it seemed as if everything outside of the pod had sped up. Then, in a sudden and unexpected moment, Harry's head collided with one of the cushioned metal support beams inside the pod. It was a harsh impact, and he mercifully lost consciousness, spared from the harrowing turmoil that had overtaken him.
----------------------------------------
Kind Regards,
FavoriteAuthor
----------------------------------------
A large thanks to those of you out there who enjoy my stories, I promise to keep updating the stories as long as you all are enjoying them, and a special thanks to those of you who have taken the time to leave feedback or have reached out to me directly.