I quickly said goodbye to Redd and started hauling dozens of parts with me, struggling to drag the entire collection along.
The combined weight of everything felt almost absurd.
By the time I reached our apartment, I was drenched in sweat.
My mouth had also started to go dry since I hadn’t properly rehydrated after training.
When I opened the door, Shmi immediately cried out in alarm.
I looked deathly pale, as if I were about to collapse at any moment.
Only after I calmed her down and assured her that I was fine did she help me carry all the parts inside.
“Anakin, why do you need all this junk?
And why are you exhausting yourself because of it?” she asked after we brought in the last pieces.
Her arms were crossed, and she wore that unmistakable stern expression shared by every worried mother.
Anger and concern were clearly mixed in her eyes.
She looked as if she was trying to decide whether to hug me first or give me a long lecture about how a nine-year-old boy shouldn’t be carrying things heavier than himself.
“Mom, this isn’t junk, and you know it,” I protested.
“These are parts I traded for with Redd.
They’re valuable and necessary for one of my projects.”
When she still seemed unconvinced, I had to resort to the secret weapon of every nine-year-old.
“But Mom…” I pleaded in the voice of a child wronged by cruel reality while simultaneously making the cutest expression I could manage.
“Pff…
You know I can’t stay angry at you, and you shamelessly take advantage of that!” she exclaimed accusingly.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t escape the scolding.
Still, I knew she only said those things because she cared about me.
Once she finally finished her monologue, I carried my things into my room while she returned to preparing breakfast.
After sorting everything I had brought home, I realized there were still several minutes left before breakfast.
So I started disassembling the moisture vaporator.
A project that would hopefully provide me with a substantial amount of credits.
To make that happen, I needed someone honest enough not to rob a slave who happened to possess truly valuable technology.
And that second problem was far more difficult.
Especially here on Tatooine.
That was why I came up with the idea of improving a moisture vaporator.
I wasn’t sure whether I could increase its efficiency enough to profit from it significantly.
However, after my skills improved, I became certain that I could enhance its performance by roughly one hundred and fifty percent compared to models currently available on the market.
I also happened to know a very wealthy and influential businessman on Tatooine who was, at the same time, exceptionally honorable.
There was a good chance that if I presented this technology to him, he wouldn’t immediately try to rob and kill me.
Thanks to my ability to sense others, I was fairly confident that he was a genuinely good person who wouldn’t stoop to stealing from a child.
At worst, he would try to negotiate the price down.
But I didn’t need full value for my invention.
I only needed enough to buy Shmi’s freedom.
And that task would have to be entrusted to a certain Jedi after my victory in the race.
After all, nobody was going to take the offer of a nine-year-old seriously.
Since only a few days remained before the events of the movie, I had to move quickly.
Besides this project, I also needed to make several modifications to Watto’s podracer the one Anakin had built to ensure complete certainty of victory.
I didn’t want to leave anything to chance.
As if that wasn’t enough, I still had to continue training while also acquiring and modifying a medical droid capable of removing my implant.
Honestly, the number of responsibilities piling up each day was starting to overwhelm me.
For my small nine-year-old body, it sometimes felt like too much.
But what choice did I have?
From a purely logical perspective, I could wait until surgery at the Jedi Temple.
However, I couldn’t sleep peacefully knowing I had a bomb inside my chest.
When those thoughts finally left my mind, I looked down at my hands again and realized that I had already unpacked most of the equipment I had brought home.
Soon afterward, dinner time arrived.
The following day began exactly like the previous one, following a schedule as precise as a chronometer.
Meditation.
Training.
Work for Watto.
After ten hours of hard labor in the workshop, I returned home and immediately resumed working on the vaporator project.
Boonta Eve was drawing closer.
Time Remaining Until Boonta Eve: 9 Days
Telekinesis – Level 2
(105/200 XP) → Level 3 (115/400 XP)
No major changes had occurred in my abilities, but Telekinesis had crossed another threshold, allowing me to summon small objects.
I stood up, called with force several tools into my hand, and left the house.
It was one of the most enjoyable parts of my day because that was when I truly felt like I had a superpower.
Meanwhile, my engineering projects were progressing exceptionally well.
Watto’s workshop was filled with noise.
Cargo droids moved crates of parts, customers bargained near the counter, and Watto floated above it all, constantly raising his voice while trying to squeeze a few extra credits out of every deal.
Outwardly, I spent the day repairing speeders, repulsorlifts, and countless broken machines brought in by customers.
In reality, part of my attention remained focused on something hidden far from the workshop.
My podracer.
Watto still had no idea it existed.
Every component had been gathered piece by piece over the years.
Some parts came from scrap.
Others had been repaired so many times that most mechanics would have thrown them away long ago.
The racer remained hidden in one of the abandoned sections near the outskirts of Mos Espa, away from curious eyes.
Each evening, whenever I found enough time, I continued improving it.
During the last few days I had replaced several damaged connectors, reinforced sections of the cooling system, and modified part of the fuel delivery assembly.
small changes but with new knowledge I knew they would dramatically increase its performance
I remembered every bolt, every cable, and every hour spent assembling it late at night while everyone else slept.
A slight smile appeared on my face.
My chances of winning Boonta Eve increased with every modification.
I had no intention of leaving anything to chance.
If I was going to win, I wanted absolute certainty.
Since Anakin spent so much time building it, I can’t let him down and not win this race.
I’ll finally have some fun after all that effort.
Moisture vaporator was also nearing completion.
Because of the numerous modifications introduced during development, I had to devote much more time to it than originally planned.
Still, results justified every effort.
First rays of sunlight had only just begun illuminating Tatooine’s desert when I carefully carried the vaporator outside.
Device was heavier than I had expected.
After several minutes of walking, I reached an area near Mos Espa’s boundaries limits I would never cross until my implant was removed.
I placed my prototype beside one of the standard vaporators used by local residents.
Most changes were hidden inside its casing, making it appear almost identical to existing models.
However, its interior contained:
– a new condensation system,
– modified filters,
– a more efficient cooling mechanism.
In theory, everything should work.
I connected the power supply.
Both devices activated almost simultaneously.
Sitting down on a toolbox, I began recording results.
First hour.
Difference was minor.
Second hour.
My design started pulling ahead.
Third hour.
Results left no room for doubt.
My vaporator produced approximately one and half times more water than a standard model.
Efficiency had increased by nearly one hundred and fifty percent.
I looked at both reservoirs.
Standard vaporator functioned exactly as intended.
Slowly, I closed my notebook.
If devices like this reached moisture farmers, they could transform life for thousands across Tatooine.
Greater water security during day to day
Perhaps I could save hundreds of lives.
For a brief moment, I imagined what this planet might look like if such technology became widespread.
Then I sighed.
I couldn’t simply start mass production.
But that didn’t matter.
I looked at the vaporator with satisfaction.
It actually worked.
Thanks to acquaintances and information gathered through various channels, I had also learned something incredibly important.
In four days, a certain merchant was expected to acquire one of the newer surgical droid models and intended to put it up for sale.
Apparently, a wealthy client had imported it directly from the Core Worlds.
After using it, he planned to auction it off to recover part of his expenses.
My heartbeat quickened.
If rumors proved true, I would finally have a chance to obtain exactly what I needed to solve my problem.
Only one small obstacle remained.
By then, I had to gather enough credits.
As a result, my vaporator project instantly jumped to the top of my priority list.
I spent the next several hours working like a madman, refining the design before another day passed.
One issue involved overheating after many hours of continuous operation, but I managed to solve it by modifying the cooling system.
When evening finally arrived, I once again replaced sleep with meditation.
After eight long hours, as soon as the sun rose, I jumped to my feet.
After getting dressed, I thoroughly inspected both the moisture vaporator and all plans and calculations prepared for my presentation.
I couldn’t afford a single mistake.
For me, this was a way out.
Carefully packing the device, I slipped out of the house.
Then I headed toward Mos Espa’s commercial district.
I knew I had to proceed quietly.
I couldn’t risk someone informing Watto about my little business venture.
Toydarians were greedy.
And I was still his property.
So I kept my head down, avoided attracting attention, and moved directly toward my destination.
If not for my social status, this technology could easily have sold for several hundred thousand credits of the republic.
It was an innovation capable of redefining the entire moisture vaporator industry.
Unfortunately, reality wasn’t so kind.
I couldn’t patent my invention or even conduct official negotiations without risking someone claiming the project belonged to my owner.
Because of those obvious limitations, I had to lower my expectations considerably.
My absolute minimum price was seventy-five thousand republic credits.
That amount would allow me to buy Shmi’s freedom, obtain an appropriate surgical droid, and provide enough resources for her to begin a new life.
Of course, I intended to negotiate.
My true goal was one hundred thousand credits converted into local currency three thousand paggats.
After all, there was never such a thing as too many credits.