Kaelen's monstrosity, the "Improvised Field Stabilizer," hummed softly in the heart of the engine room, an insult to every principle of Naboo engineering. Captain Panaka glared at it as if it were a snake about to strike.
"Absolutely not," Panaka decreed, his voice echoing through the room. "I will not install a bomb on this ship. We will rely on the Jedi."
Rely on the Jedi. Translation: rely on a kid winning a death race. Sounds like a foolproof plan. Kaelen shrugged. Their funeral.
But it was Padmé who intervened. She stepped forward, her handmaiden disguise doing little to hide the authority in her voice. "We will do both." Everyone turned to her. "Captain, the Jedi Master's gamble is our best option for permanently acquiring the hyperdrive. But failure is not an option." Her gaze settled on Kaelen. "Engineer Ror, prepare your device. Install it. If the child... if Anakin loses, we will not wait. We will leave immediately."
Panaka opened his mouth to protest, but Padmé's gaze was steel. He nodded stiffly. Qui-Gon, who had remained silent, offered Kaelen a small, enigmatic smile. "The Force works in mysterious ways. Sometimes, through faith. Sometimes, it seems, through scrap and ingenuity."
Don't mix your space magic with my science, buddy. Mine actually works.
Kaelen gave him an insolent grin. "Don't worry, Master Jedi. My ingenuity has a much higher success rate than blind faith."
The Boonta Eve Classic
They watched the Boonta Eve Classic from a long-range scanner on the ship's bridge. The transmission was grainy, but the madness was clear. Kaelen watched, not with the tension of the others, but with the analytical eye of an engineer.
This kid is good. Intuitive. He feels the flow of his machine. But he's reckless, too reliant on instinct.
He watched as Sebulba, the cheating Dug, sabotaged another racer, then zeroed in on Anakin.
And of course, the ugly one's the cheater. This universe has the subtlety of a hammer blow. But look at that...
On a tight turn, Sebulba tried to snag his engine onto Anakin's. But Anakin's podracer shook violently, the power manifold sputtered, and then broke free. It was the exact spot Kaelen had pointed out to him in Watto's shop. The small modification, the extra insulation he suggested, had just saved his race.
Heh. You're welcome, destiny child.
Anakin won. A collective sigh of relief swept through the bridge. Shortly after, Qui-Gon made contact. He had secured the parts and, thanks to a second wager with Watto, Anakin's freedom as well. But his voice was urgent. "We're heading there now. Prepare the ship for immediate liftoff. We have company."
Kaelen didn't need to be told twice. He raced to the engine room. "Company" could only mean one thing: the horned guy with the bad attitude was back.
Hyperspace Or Bust
I'm in the engine room, sweating more from concentration than Tatooine's heat. My baby, my ugly, beautiful baby, is connected to the ship's heart. R2-D2 is beside me, beeping nervously.
"Easy there, soda can. Everything's theoretically under control," I tell him, though "theoretically" is doing a lot of heavy lifting in that sentence.
The ship's ramp lowers. I hear the shouts, the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber igniting. There's our horned friend. Over the comm, Panaka's voice is a panicked shout: "Qui-Gon is fighting on the ramp! We can't wait for him! Go!"
Padmé's voice cuts him off, clear and steady. "Kaelen! Are you ready?"
"Born ready!" I shout back, my hands flying over an improvised control console I hooked up to my device. Numbers on the screen flicker red. Power is building. The Stabilizer hums, rising to a high-pitched whine. The entire engine room deck vibrates beneath my feet. It feels like standing on a volcano about to erupt.
"Get us out of the atmosphere!" I order the bridge. "I need clear sky so we don't crash into some random satellite!"
The ship lurches upward. Qui-Gon leaps aboard just as the ramp seals. I feel the thuds of blaster fire from Maul's ship hitting our hull.
"NOW, KAELEN, NOW!" Padmé screams over the comm.
Showtime.
I slam a huge, ridiculous red button I installed on the console. A button that screams "PANIC."
The Aftermath
The effect was not the sleek, clean jump to hyperspace the crew knew. It was a violence.
The ship didn't stretch; it was crushed. The tunnel of blue stars was replaced by a chaotic vortex of sickly colors—greens, purples, and yellows that twisted like oil paint. The entire ship groaned, metal screeching as if it would tear apart. Lights flickered and died, plunging everything into darkness save for the ghostly glow of the vortex outside.
In the engine room, Kaelen struggled to stay upright. The Field Stabilizer glowed with a blinding white light, and small molten drips began to bleed from the metal. It was working. It was tearing reality just enough for them to squeeze through.
It was amidst that chaos, as the ship was flung through a nightmare dimension, that Kaelen's system reacted. The sharp pain returned, but this time it was different. It was an expansion.
HIGH-RISK ACTION SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED
EXTREME INGENUITY PARAMETERS REACHED
SYNCHRONIZATION INCREASED: +2%
TOTAL SYNCHRONIZATION LEVEL: 12%
NEW KNOWLEDGE UNLOCKED:
- Advanced Chemistry (Basic Level)
- Data Manipulation & Encryption (Basic Level)
A torrent of new information flooded his mind. Suddenly, he didn't just see the hull's metal; he understood its molecular composition, its stress points, the impurities in the alloy. He looked at the flickering console and saw beyond the code: he understood the ship's encryption architecture, its vulnerabilities, how he could break or enhance it with ease.
As suddenly as it began, the journey ended. With a final jolt that threw everyone against the nearest wall, the ship returned to normal space. The stars were stable, silent pinpricks. In the engine room, the Field Stabilizer let out one last, mournful groan, then collapsed in on itself in a pool of molten, smoking metal, just as Kaelen had predicted.
He was exhausted, leaning against a wall, breathing hard, but with a wide grin on his face. It worked.
A moment later, Padmé entered the room. Her hair was disheveled, a smudge of soot on her cheek, but her eyes shone with a respect she had never shown him before. She walked over to him, ignoring the smoking wreckage on the floor.
"You did it," she said, her voice barely a whisper.
"Told you science is more reliable than luck," Kaelen replied, his voice hoarse.
She didn't smile. Instead, she did something that surprised him. She placed a hand on his arm, her fingers squeezing gently. The contact was warm, real.
"Thank you, Kaelen."
There was no formality in her voice. No trace of Queen or handmaiden. It was just Padmé. And in that moment, Kaelen knew the game had changed forever. He was no longer just the amusing engineer. He was the man who had accomplished the impossible. And in the eyes of Naboo's true Queen, that made him the most important person in the galaxy.