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| - Gadon was relieved to see the group come back, accelerator in hand. Keeping his word, the blind gang leader put Nik’s name down as Hidden Bek rider. While the mechanics installed the part into the swoop bike, everyone spent the night at the Bek base. Nik couldn’t sleep; there was too much on his mind. He had some riding swoops in his teens, but one with an unstable accelerator would be a challenge. So instead of resting he spent the entire night going over the basics of swoop bike riding—and praying that he wouldn’t screw things up. Morning came sooner than expected. Nik left the others to their sleep while he went out to the race track, enjoying the warm breeze from the exhaust vents of the Lower City. It was still early, and the streets were silent. Even the Coruscant of the Outer Rim had to sleep at some time. The place was packed with swoopers who had the hard look of experience on their faces. He tried to mimic that expression to no avail, and decided he best keep to himself. The stands soon became crowded with citizens from every part of Taris; even the rich folk of Upper City came to watch, and news reporters were broadcasting the event all over the planet, and to most of the Outer Rim. Getting the thumbs up sign from the head mechanic, Nik walked over the registration desk headed by a withered Duros. The alien looked up, and his red eyes seemed to dig into Nik’s soul. "I'm Nik Starfall for the Hiden Beks.” The Duros nodded and began typing on his desk, muttering out loud. "Nik. Nik Starfall. Name of great legend. Much will come of you, yes?" It took a minute for Nik to interpret the bald Duros's question. "You mean am I going to win the race? Absolutely." "Yes, that what they all say," the alien chuckled Before Nik could think of a witty response, two mechanics grabbed him by the arms and hauled him into Gadon's swoop bike. When he failed to find any safety restraints, he began to reconsider things. Getting out would definitely be the smart thing to do, but he couldn't afford to lose Bastila to some offworld slaver, not after all the trouble he had gone to find her. Resigning from the race may have been safe, but it was too risky. Nik's knuckles went numb, clinging on to the control handles as the elevator descended into the depths of Taris. Once they arrived on the planet surface, hovering maintenance vehicles towed each bike into place. Since the Beks were the largest gang in the Lower City, Nik's got front row center. It almost managed to cheer him up. The Duros announcer's voice rang throughout the Undercity. "Those who swoop, start the engines!" Nik found the ignition on only the third try. "Get set!" His feet kept slipping off the pedals. Once he solved that problem, he began to decipher the swoop's array of lights, switches, and levers. He recognized the speedometer as a set of bright symbols of alien origin. Next to that were a red switch and a series of handwritten letters that he could not understand. He hoped it was just the model number or serial code. The foot pedals were of standard design, though he was not familiar with the arrangement of the hand controls. He deafened his ears as various racers shouted taunts and insults to each other, and focused on the three bright lights above. 3...2...1. Nik slammed his feet on the pedals, the roar of the swoop engine assaulting his hearing. The bike didn't move. Not at first, anyway. Swoopers reared him from behind. The collision hurled his bike into the air without effort. Nauseas from the disorienting spin, he failed to stick the landing, crashing a good twenty meters from the starting point. Swoops whirled past him, and Nik could swear he heard several drivers laughing at him. He swallowed a bit of something nasty and stomped his feet once more. In half a second Nik was racing through the desolate Undercity highlands. Within minutes his overcharged swoop caught up with the other racers. At least he knew that the accelerator was working. Fiddling with the hand controls, Nik dodged other swoops as his beefed-up bike zoomed through the track. Soon he had taken the lead. The swoopers weren't laughing anymore. The other riders took notice of this newcomer who was trying to out-show them. A pair of swoopers began to conspire against Nik, sideswiping his bike from either side. One couldn't handle the recoil and swerved off the course; the other crashed into the guardrail as the track made a sharp curve. Nik carefully turned round the bend, avoiding the various space junk that jutted out of the dead soil. A few more turns took the riders into a section of the planet's vast sewer system. It looked like the same area that he had just visited, but Nik doubted it. The prototype accelerator began to cough and sputter. Nik burned his hands on the bike's metal frame as parts of it caught on fire. Nik, the bike, and the faulty accelerator plunged into the Tarisian sewage. The one thing Nik was grateful for was that he had landed in the "clean" end of the water recycling process. Nik wasn't sure if it was the sewage water or the prototype accelerator doing its job, but the flames died down and his bike roared to life and continued down the track. Nik caught up to the rider that had taken the lead, a psychotic Rodian swooper that Nik had seen before check-in. The alien screamed a string of Huttese insults and began assaulting Nik with his bike. Sparks flew in all directions as the two metal frames scraped against each other. A few beeps from the monitor told Nik that the accelerator couldn't handle the strain. He flipped a few switches at random, cursing himself for not recognizing the letters. More curses from the Rodian swooper and it finally struck him. He followed the last-minute instructions the Bek mechanic had left him and flipped the mysterious red switch. Fire swirled out of the bike's exhaust vent, engulfing the enemy rider in flames. Nik wiped his still-wet hair with one hand and shifted gears with the other, sitting back to enjoy the homestretch. The air exploded with applause from the crowds as Nik finally brought his bike to a halt next to the mechanics, who jumped up and down, each congratulating the winning rider in their own language. As he got out, he avoided all pats on the back as he looked in the pit stop for one thing: a bucket. Grabbing it, he vomited what the Beks had given him for breakfast until the Duros announcer grabbed him for the award ceremony. Nik looked into the stands and saw Carth, Zaalbar, and Mission cheering their loudest, and next to them Gadon nodded a sign of approval to the young soldier. "Present the prize to great winner of season opener, Nik Starkiller!” Nik rolled his eyes at the Duros announcer, quickly took bow, and muttered, "Starfall." "Yes, right. Name of legend. Nik Starfall!" The crowd cheered with enthusiasm. Even the losing riders applauded the rookie swooper who had beaten them at their own game. "Here your prize, oogily moogily Republic slave girl." Nik muttered her name and looked upon Bastila with pity. Dressed in a ridiculous slave outfit and imprisoned in a cage, and once again she appeared to be drugged and unconscious. No one deserved such humiliation, especially not a Jedi. "People, hear me!" called a voice familiar to all. Everyone turned to a young man who Nik identified as the Vulkar leader Brejik. "Before you present the prize to the winning rider, there is something you must know. That Bek swooper is a cheat!" Nik stepped forward and glared at the gang leader. "You're a damn liar, Brejik! And a traitor as well.” He pointedly took a dramatic pause and turned around to look into the eyes of each swooper present. “Everybody here knows it!" The crowd grumbled in agreement; even some of the Vulkars admitted it. Brejik’s hand rested on his blaster. "Don’t talk to me like that, you damn greasy swooper!” The gang leader turned to the crowd as well, raising his voice so that all could hear. “He used an illegal prototype accelerator to win the race. Because of this treachery, the Black Vulkars are withdrawing their share of the prize." The group of swoopers booed and howled with outrage. Eventually, all fell silent, bowing to the Duros announcer’s judgement. "That go against tradition! No gang take back prize!" Brejik shoved the alien to the ground. "You old fool! Your traditions mean nothing to me! I am the leader of the Black Vulkars. I am the wave of the future! No swoop trash like you can tell me what to do with my property!" "I might have something to say about that," called a smooth feminine voice. The crowd turned their eyes to the prisoner's cage, taking sight of a fully conscious Bastila. The young Jedi motioned with her hand, the cage obeying her command. With one swift kick, she brought her single guard to the ground and bent down to retrieve the fallen Vulkar's double-ended vibroblade. Brejik’s mouth nearly dropped to the floor. "What? You were restrained by a neural disruptor!" "You underestimate the strength of a Jedi's mind, Brejik. A mistake you won't live to regret." Frantically, Brejik whipped out his blaster. "Vulkars! Kill the Jedi! Kill the swooper! Kill them all!" Blaster shots rang, and everyone in the crowd screamed as people climbed over each to get away from the fire fight. Nik decked one of the Black Vulkars and grabbed his shock stick, narrowly deflecting a swing from the swooper's partner. With a left-hook he knocked out one Vulkar and dug into another with his knife, the electrified blade singing the alien's flesh. As Nik tackled another group of swoopers, with quick, graceful motions the twin blades of Bastila's sword sliced through Vulkar after Vulkar. Nik dared to look into her eyes; the burning call of battle blazed within each of them, raging passion and inflamed anger. Nik staggered back, unable to take in the deluge of emotion. Bastila blocked Brejik's blaster shots with her quarter staff. "Give up, Brejik. You cannot hope to win." Bastila twirled her double-bladed sword so that the tip of one blade barely pricked the Vulkar's throat. The gang leader looked about nervously, each of his comrades wounded on the floor. "Think again, Jedi!" The Vulkar slapped his arm band, and a pair of ceiling turrets rained fire on the pair of Republic officers. She looked at her fallen foe, the enemy she had so feared to face, and at last felt relief, her mission successful. Nik could almost feel her pride, the enjoyment of her final victory. She bent down and removed the shadow's mask. Underneath lay nothing but darkness. With a few manipulations of the Force, Bastila made the two turrets fired on each other. Brejik still would not bow down, and continued to attack the Jedi even as she dealt him his final blow. Nik stood up and dusted off his rifle, trying to recover from the visions in his head. "Well, maybe those bloody Vulkars will think twice next time before trying to keep a Jedi prisoner!” Bastila kneeled over Brejik’s body and picked up her doubled-ended lightsaber. Her attention then turned to Nik. “And as for you. If you think you collect me as a prize--wait, I don’t believe this. You’re one of the soldiers from the Endar Spire!" He held out his hand. "I'm Nik Starfall. I'm here to rescue you." Bastila leered at the young soldier and ignored his hand. "Ha! Rescue me? I had everything under control until you showed up. You might as well say I rescued you." Nik was still dazed from his burning shoulder wound, the disorienting swoop race, and the confusing battle that took place afterwards. The visions made him feel worse. He was not in the mood to argue, especially not with Bastila Shan. "Whatever, lady. We should be getting back to Carth." Bastila gasped and breathed a huge sigh of relief. "Carth Onasi is alive? Then there is hope. Very well, flyboy, lead the way."
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