The Lost Eighteen:

Prolog

Twin suns blazed in the heavens, sending massive amounts of solar radiation through space and atmosphere to bake sandy dunes. Most was reflected back into space, further heating the atmosphere on its journey. What little stayed only served to heat the sand hot enough to boil water. There was, however, no water to be boiled in the Dune Sea. There was, in fact, no water on the surface of the entire planet of Tatooine.

It had been speculated by some that water could be found in vast underground rivers and lakes, fed by springs in deep underground wells. Such had never been proven and few had searched in recent centuries, but on a desert planet such stories were favored, and so persisted.

The most popular was a story that was claimed to have come from the journal of a man named Jules Cloudjogger, who journeyed into the mouth of a long dead volcano, went on to find a vast underground lake, sail across it, and resurface on the far side of the planet. At least that had been the popular story when Obi-Wan Kenobi was in Mos Espa during the last Boonta's Eve celebration.

He had only been there for some supplies he needed to repair several vaporators that had burned out when a sand storm came blowing through town, forcing him to seek shelter. He had found himself at an orphanage. After two days, he could quote the story by heart. After three days, he caught himself contemplating the effects of igniting his lightsaber with the working end held to his temple.

When the storm lifted, he gladly made a swift exodus while the town's citizens reveled in the streets, intent upon making up for the lost holiday.

Now, three weeks later, he found himself silently reviewing the story of Jules Cloudjogger as he rested in the shade of a small cave where the Dune Sea met the Jundland Wastes. He watched as the suns tortured the rolling landscape before him.

The idea of a journal had appealed to him. So much so that he had decided to keep one of his own. He was not cataloging his story, but information about the Jedi. He decided to write about the most critical things a Jedi would need to know. More precisely, things that his former pupil, Anakin's, son would need to defeat his father and the Emperor.

Obi-Wan put the journal down with a sigh. He had just finished transcribing instructions on lightsaber construction. "Will he be able to do it?" he wondered aloud. His voice echoed in the depths of the cave.

"If not him, then who?" came the reply. A blue shade shimmered into existence beside him.

"I should have finished the job myself when I had the chance," his voice barely constituted a whisper

"You didn't know he would live," the shade said. "And that still would have left The Emperor. He would only have found another pupil."

Obi-Wan tracked a line of Sand People on the horizon, their silhouettes moving slowly across the red sky. The second sun had almost disappeared beyond the sea of sand.

"But it wouldn't have been him," Obi-Wan turned to face the ghost of his former master. "He wouldn't be out there, right now, serving evil." He turned back to watching the tuskens make their trek.

"We put a lot of weight on his shoulders. He knew about the prophesy from the start. The day we landed on Coruscant he heard it. He knew what we expected from him." Obi-Wan turned back to face his master's ethereal from. "We're putting the same weight on his son. Maybe more."

"You fear him falling prey to his father's weakness." It was not a question.

"I can't help but wonder."

"We have been over this before, Obi-Wan. We all agreed what must be done." Qui-Gon regarded his former student in an almost fatherly manner. "Obi-Wan, What's really bothering you?"

The Jedi sighed again and stood. "What's bothering me is sitting here on this backwater rock while the civilization I dedicated my life to protect is being turned upside down by a madman who has the most powerful force user the galaxy has seen in ages under his thumb. I know that we can't confront them directly but there has to be something that we can do to at least slow them down."

"Swatting at locusts won't slow the swarm."

Obi-Wan smiled at the remark. He couldn't help but remember the time he and Qui-Gon had stirred up a swarm of carnivorous locusts on Alkard IX in the deep core. The onslaught had been so fierce and so sudden; they had killed countless hundreds in less than a minute. Thinking quickly, his master had sent out a force suggestion to the large bugs telling them they were not hungry but tired. Even Qui-Gon had been mildly surprised at the speed the swarm left, intent on sleeping. Obi-Wan had only been a padawan then, but the event had stuck with him vividly.

The Empire was very much like a plague of locusts. Its Clone Troopers, spreading through the galaxy subduing any that gave resistance to the new order, and conquering territories that never had joined the Republic, killing and maiming as they went.

Swatting at a handful of them would never slow the flood. Putting them all to sleep was a task that not even Yoda could have managed, and would do little but give the army a short and restful hiatus. Even if they could kill or incapacitate the entire army, the emperor would just order a new one.

The stars had exploded into their full splendor in the cloudless night sky. Obi-Wan studied them for a time before coming out of his reverie. "Your right, of course" he said to the faintly glowing figure sharing his cave. "I still wish there was something we could do."

Obi-Wan Kenobi was not often bothered by dreams. He had returned home after talking with Qui-Gon and gone straight to bed. He woke up not long after, swimming in sweat, sheets tangled, his breath short and gasping.

He hadn't had a dream. He had just had the worst nightmare imaginable. A nightmare in which…

He couldn't bring himself to think of it. It had been horrible.

Then a thought occurred to him, a small little seed of a thought. He tried to dismiss it, but it took root and began to grow. The more he thought about it, the less he liked it, but he couldn't help himself.

Walking to the refresher station he tried to laugh it off. Then he washed his face as if he could scrub the thought out. The longer it persisted the more it seemed to have merit and a 'no that would never…' turned into a 'what if'. After a few hours the 'what if' turned into a 'maybe' and by morning it was a full-fledged idea.

After dressing and breakfasting he had made up his mind. He summoned Qui-Gon's shade and told him the plan. The shade didn't have much of an opinion but agreed to deliver a message to Yoda.

Obi-Wan packed what supplies he would need for a trip to Mos Eisley. It was closer than Mos Espa and the small town had become a hot spot for out of work pilots. It was perfect.

He set out just before nightfall, after securing his house for an extended absence.

He was on his way to stir up trouble for the fledgling empire!

More chapters to follow!