Episode 1 - The Phantom Menace (Terry Brooks), Star Wars - Books And Short Stories
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Terry BrooksThe Phantom MenaceTo Lisa, Jill, Amanda, & Alex, the kids who grew up with the story & toHunter, the first of the generationA LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...1Tatooine.The suns burned down out of a cloudless blue sky, washing the vastdesert wastes of the planet in brilliant white light. The resultant glarerose off the flat, sandy surface in a wet shimmer of blistering heat to fillthe gaps between the massive cliff faces and solitary outcroppings of themountains that were the planet's sole distinguishing feature. Sharplyetched, the monoliths stood like sentinels keeping watch in a watery haze.When the Podracers streaked past, engines roaring with ferocious hunger andrelentless drive, the heat and the light seemed to shatter and the mountainsthemselves to tremble.Anakin Skywalker leaned into the curve of the raceway that took himpast the stone arch marking the entry into Beggar's Canyon on the first lapof the run, easing the thruster bars forward, giving the engines a littlemore juice. The wedge-shaped rockets exploded with power, the right a tadharder than the left, banking the Pod in which Anakin sat sharply left toclear the turn. Swiftly, he adjusted the steering to straighten the racer,boosted power further, and shot through the arch.Loose sand whiplashed in the wake of his passing, filling the air witha gritty sheen, whirling and dancing through the heat. He ripped into thecanyon, fingers playing across the controls, hands steady on the steering.It was all so quick, so instantaneous. One mistake, one misjudgment,and he would be out of the race and lucky if he weren't dead. That was thethrill of it. All that power, all that speed, just at his fingertips, and nomargin for error. Two huge turbines dragged a fragile Pod over sandy flats,around jagged - edged mountains, down shadowed draws, and overheart-wrenching drops in a series of twisting, winding curves and jumps atthe greatest speed a driver could manage. Control cables ran fr'lffi the Podto the engines, and energy binders locked the engines to each other. If anypart of the three struck something solid, the whole of the assembly wouldcollapse in a splintering of metal and a fiery wash of rocket fuel. If anypart broke free, it was all over.A grin split Anakin's young face as he injected a bit more power intothe thrusters.Ahead, the canyon narrowed and the shadows deepened. Anakin bore downon the slit of brightness that opened back onto the flats, keeping low tothe ground where passage was widest. If he stayed high, he risked brushingthe cliff faces on either side. That had happened to Regga in a race lastmonth, and they were still looking for the pieces.It would not happen to him.He shoved the thruster bars forward and exploded through the gap ontothe flats, engines screaming.Sitting in the Pod with his hands on the controls, Anakin could feelthe vibration of the engines travel up the controlcables and fill him with their music. Wrapped in his rough-madejumpsuit, his racing helmet, his goggles, and his gloves, he was wedged soclosely in his seat that he could feel the rush of the wind across the Pod'sskin beneath him. When he raced like this, he was never simply the driver ofa Podracer, never just an additional part. Rather, he was at one with thewhole, and engines, Pod, and he were bound together in a way he could notentirely explain. Each shimmy, each small throb, each tug and twist of strutand tie were apparent to him, and he could sense at any given moment exactlywhat was happening throughout the length and breadth of his racer. It spoketo him in its own language, a mix of sounds and feelings, and though it didnot use words, he could understand everything it said.Sometimes, he thought dreamily, he could sense what it would say beforeit even spoke.A flash of gleaming orange metal shot past him on his right, and hewatched the distinctive split-X of Sebulba's engines flare out before him,taking away the lead he had seized through an unusually quick start. Hisbrow wrinkled in disgust at himself for his momentary lapse of concentrationand his dislike of the other racer. All gangly and crook-legged, Sebulba wasas twisted inside as out, a dangerous adversary who won often and tookdelight in doing so at the expense of others. The Dug had caused more than adozen crashes of other Podracers in the past year alone, and his eyesglinted with wicked pleasure when he recounted the tales to others on thedusty streets of Mos Espa. Anakin knew Sebulba well - and knew better thanto take chances with him.He rode the thruster bars forward, fed fresh power to the engines, androcketed ahead.It didn't help, he supposed as he watched the distance between themnarrow, that he was human or, much worse, that he was theonly human ever to drive in the Podraces. The ultimate test of skilland daring on Tatooine and the favorite spectator sport of the citizens ofMos Espa, it was supposed to be beyond the skill and capability of anyhuman. Multiple arms and multihinged joints, stalk eyes, heads that swiveled180 degrees, and bodies that twisted as if boneless gave advantages to othercreatures that humans could not begin to overcome. The most famous racers,the best of a rare breed, were strangely shaped, complexly formed beingswith a penchant for taking risks that bordered on insanity.But Anakin Skywalker, while nothing like these, was so intuitive in hisunderstanding of the skills required by his sport and so comfortable withits demands that his lack of these other attributes seemed to matter not atall. It was a source of some mystery to everyone, and a source of disgustand growing irritation to Sebulba in particular.Last month, in another race, the wily Dug had tried to run Anakin intoa cliff face. He had failed only because Anakin sensed him coming up frombehind and underneath, an illegal razor saw extended to sever Anakin's rightSteelton control cable, and Anakin lifted away to safety before the sawcould do its damage. His escape cost him the race, but allowed him to keephis life. It was a trade he was still angry at having been forced to make.The racers whipped through columns of ancient statuary and across thefloor of the arena erected on the edge of Mos Espa. They swept under thewinner's arch, past row upon row of seats crammed with spectators cheeringthem on, past pit droids, repair stations, and the boxes where the Huttswatched in isolated splendor above the commoners. From an overlook in atower centered on the arch, the two-headed Troig who served as announcerwouldbe shouting out their names and positions to the crowd.Anakin allowed himself a momentary glimpse of blurred figures that wereleft behind so fast they might have been nothing more than a mirage. Hismother, Shmi, would be among them, worrying as she always did. She hatedwatching him drive in the Podraces, but she couldn't help herself. She neversaid so, but he thought she believed that simply by being there she couldkeep him from coming to harm. It had worked so far. He had crashed twice andfailed to finish even once, but after more than half a dozen races he wasunharmed. And he liked having her there. It gave him a strange sort ofconfidence in himself he didn't like to think about too closely.Besides, what choice did they have in the matter? He raced because hewas good at it, Watto knew he was good at it, and whatever Watto wanted ofhim he would do. That was the price you paid when you were a slave, andAnakin Skywalker had been a slave all his life.Arch Canyon rose broad and deep before him, an expanse of rock leadinginto Jag Crag Gorge, a twisting channel the racers were required to navigateon their way to the high flats beyond. Sebulba was just ahead, rocketing lowand tight across the ground, trying to put some distance between Anakin andhimself. Behind Anakin, close now, were three other racers spread outagainst the horizon. A quick glance revealed Mawhonic, Gasgano, and Rimkartrailing in his strange bubble pod. All three were gaining. Anakin startedto engage his thrusters, then drew back. They were too close to the gorge.Too much power there, and he would be in trouble. Response time in thechannel was. compacted down to almost nothing. It was better to wait.Mawhonic and Gasgano seemed to agree, settling their Pods into placebehind his as they approached the split in the rock. But Rimkar was notcontent to wait and roared past Anakin split seconds before they entered thecleft and disappeared into darkness.Anakin leveled out his Pod, lifting slightly from the rockstrewn floorof the channel, letting his memory and his instincts take him down thewinding cut. When he raced, everything around him slowed down rather thansped up. It was different than you'd expect. Rock and sand and shadows flewpast in a wild mix of patterns and shapes, and still he could see soclearly. All the details seemed to jump out at him, as if illuminated byexactly what should make them so difficult to distinguish. He could almostclose his eyes and drive, he thought. He was that much in tune witheverything around him, that much aware of where he was.He eased swiftly down the channel, catching glimpses of Rimkar's engineexhausts as they flashed crimson in the shadows. Far, far overhead, the skywas a brilliant blue streak down the center of the mountain, sending a frailstreamer of light into ... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
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Terry BrooksThe Phantom MenaceTo Lisa, Jill, Amanda, & Alex, the kids who grew up with the story & toHunter, the first of the generationA LONG TIME AGO IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...1Tatooine.The suns burned down out of a cloudless blue sky, washing the vastdesert wastes of the planet in brilliant white light. The resultant glarerose off the flat, sandy surface in a wet shimmer of blistering heat to fillthe gaps between the massive cliff faces and solitary outcroppings of themountains that were the planet's sole distinguishing feature. Sharplyetched, the monoliths stood like sentinels keeping watch in a watery haze.When the Podracers streaked past, engines roaring with ferocious hunger andrelentless drive, the heat and the light seemed to shatter and the mountainsthemselves to tremble.Anakin Skywalker leaned into the curve of the raceway that took himpast the stone arch marking the entry into Beggar's Canyon on the first lapof the run, easing the thruster bars forward, giving the engines a littlemore juice. The wedge-shaped rockets exploded with power, the right a tadharder than the left, banking the Pod in which Anakin sat sharply left toclear the turn. Swiftly, he adjusted the steering to straighten the racer,boosted power further, and shot through the arch.Loose sand whiplashed in the wake of his passing, filling the air witha gritty sheen, whirling and dancing through the heat. He ripped into thecanyon, fingers playing across the controls, hands steady on the steering.It was all so quick, so instantaneous. One mistake, one misjudgment,and he would be out of the race and lucky if he weren't dead. That was thethrill of it. All that power, all that speed, just at his fingertips, and nomargin for error. Two huge turbines dragged a fragile Pod over sandy flats,around jagged - edged mountains, down shadowed draws, and overheart-wrenching drops in a series of twisting, winding curves and jumps atthe greatest speed a driver could manage. Control cables ran fr'lffi the Podto the engines, and energy binders locked the engines to each other. If anypart of the three struck something solid, the whole of the assembly wouldcollapse in a splintering of metal and a fiery wash of rocket fuel. If anypart broke free, it was all over.A grin split Anakin's young face as he injected a bit more power intothe thrusters.Ahead, the canyon narrowed and the shadows deepened. Anakin bore downon the slit of brightness that opened back onto the flats, keeping low tothe ground where passage was widest. If he stayed high, he risked brushingthe cliff faces on either side. That had happened to Regga in a race lastmonth, and they were still looking for the pieces.It would not happen to him.He shoved the thruster bars forward and exploded through the gap ontothe flats, engines screaming.Sitting in the Pod with his hands on the controls, Anakin could feelthe vibration of the engines travel up the controlcables and fill him with their music. Wrapped in his rough-madejumpsuit, his racing helmet, his goggles, and his gloves, he was wedged soclosely in his seat that he could feel the rush of the wind across the Pod'sskin beneath him. When he raced like this, he was never simply the driver ofa Podracer, never just an additional part. Rather, he was at one with thewhole, and engines, Pod, and he were bound together in a way he could notentirely explain. Each shimmy, each small throb, each tug and twist of strutand tie were apparent to him, and he could sense at any given moment exactlywhat was happening throughout the length and breadth of his racer. It spoketo him in its own language, a mix of sounds and feelings, and though it didnot use words, he could understand everything it said.Sometimes, he thought dreamily, he could sense what it would say beforeit even spoke.A flash of gleaming orange metal shot past him on his right, and hewatched the distinctive split-X of Sebulba's engines flare out before him,taking away the lead he had seized through an unusually quick start. Hisbrow wrinkled in disgust at himself for his momentary lapse of concentrationand his dislike of the other racer. All gangly and crook-legged, Sebulba wasas twisted inside as out, a dangerous adversary who won often and tookdelight in doing so at the expense of others. The Dug had caused more than adozen crashes of other Podracers in the past year alone, and his eyesglinted with wicked pleasure when he recounted the tales to others on thedusty streets of Mos Espa. Anakin knew Sebulba well - and knew better thanto take chances with him.He rode the thruster bars forward, fed fresh power to the engines, androcketed ahead.It didn't help, he supposed as he watched the distance between themnarrow, that he was human or, much worse, that he was theonly human ever to drive in the Podraces. The ultimate test of skilland daring on Tatooine and the favorite spectator sport of the citizens ofMos Espa, it was supposed to be beyond the skill and capability of anyhuman. Multiple arms and multihinged joints, stalk eyes, heads that swiveled180 degrees, and bodies that twisted as if boneless gave advantages to othercreatures that humans could not begin to overcome. The most famous racers,the best of a rare breed, were strangely shaped, complexly formed beingswith a penchant for taking risks that bordered on insanity.But Anakin Skywalker, while nothing like these, was so intuitive in hisunderstanding of the skills required by his sport and so comfortable withits demands that his lack of these other attributes seemed to matter not atall. It was a source of some mystery to everyone, and a source of disgustand growing irritation to Sebulba in particular.Last month, in another race, the wily Dug had tried to run Anakin intoa cliff face. He had failed only because Anakin sensed him coming up frombehind and underneath, an illegal razor saw extended to sever Anakin's rightSteelton control cable, and Anakin lifted away to safety before the sawcould do its damage. His escape cost him the race, but allowed him to keephis life. It was a trade he was still angry at having been forced to make.The racers whipped through columns of ancient statuary and across thefloor of the arena erected on the edge of Mos Espa. They swept under thewinner's arch, past row upon row of seats crammed with spectators cheeringthem on, past pit droids, repair stations, and the boxes where the Huttswatched in isolated splendor above the commoners. From an overlook in atower centered on the arch, the two-headed Troig who served as announcerwouldbe shouting out their names and positions to the crowd.Anakin allowed himself a momentary glimpse of blurred figures that wereleft behind so fast they might have been nothing more than a mirage. Hismother, Shmi, would be among them, worrying as she always did. She hatedwatching him drive in the Podraces, but she couldn't help herself. She neversaid so, but he thought she believed that simply by being there she couldkeep him from coming to harm. It had worked so far. He had crashed twice andfailed to finish even once, but after more than half a dozen races he wasunharmed. And he liked having her there. It gave him a strange sort ofconfidence in himself he didn't like to think about too closely.Besides, what choice did they have in the matter? He raced because hewas good at it, Watto knew he was good at it, and whatever Watto wanted ofhim he would do. That was the price you paid when you were a slave, andAnakin Skywalker had been a slave all his life.Arch Canyon rose broad and deep before him, an expanse of rock leadinginto Jag Crag Gorge, a twisting channel the racers were required to navigateon their way to the high flats beyond. Sebulba was just ahead, rocketing lowand tight across the ground, trying to put some distance between Anakin andhimself. Behind Anakin, close now, were three other racers spread outagainst the horizon. A quick glance revealed Mawhonic, Gasgano, and Rimkartrailing in his strange bubble pod. All three were gaining. Anakin startedto engage his thrusters, then drew back. They were too close to the gorge.Too much power there, and he would be in trouble. Response time in thechannel was. compacted down to almost nothing. It was better to wait.Mawhonic and Gasgano seemed to agree, settling their Pods into placebehind his as they approached the split in the rock. But Rimkar was notcontent to wait and roared past Anakin split seconds before they entered thecleft and disappeared into darkness.Anakin leveled out his Pod, lifting slightly from the rockstrewn floorof the channel, letting his memory and his instincts take him down thewinding cut. When he raced, everything around him slowed down rather thansped up. It was different than you'd expect. Rock and sand and shadows flewpast in a wild mix of patterns and shapes, and still he could see soclearly. All the details seemed to jump out at him, as if illuminated byexactly what should make them so difficult to distinguish. He could almostclose his eyes and drive, he thought. He was that much in tune witheverything around him, that much aware of where he was.He eased swiftly down the channel, catching glimpses of Rimkar's engineexhausts as they flashed crimson in the shadows. Far, far overhead, the skywas a brilliant blue streak down the center of the mountain, sending a frailstreamer of light into ... [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]