Twenty-five years ago
My aunt and uncle are going to kill me.
But he's sick of spending his summers breaking his back, slaving away at the farm in nowhere Tatooine. He left a note explaining that he'll be back after the weekend.
Luke cringes as he steps off the bus. Tourists mill about, pressing in on every side. He expected crowds, but not like this. Luke stumbles, almost dropping his backpack. Biggs, where are you? His friend said he'd meet Luke directly at the bus stop. With a sigh, Luke drops his bag onto the pavement and plops down on top of it, waiting.
The sun crawls below the treeline, and still Luke waits. Now annoyance starts to creep in.
"Artoo, come back here!"
Luke turns in the direction of the out-of-place British accent as a short, plump gray and white dog leaps at him. The blue collar around the animal's neck flashes in the weeping sunlight. A laugh bubbles from Luke's throat as the dog licks his face. At least someone's glad to see him.
"Oh, my goodness! I do apologize, sir, Artoo's a bit—" A man stoops down, tugging at Artoo's leash. Artoo whimpers, straining, paws still on Luke's chest.
"No, it's fine," Luke ekes out. "You're a friendly fellow, aren't you?" He scratches the dog's ears, and Artoo pants happily. At least someone's greeting me. And they're even happy about it.
"Artoo, we're supposed to be finding Leia! Bail won't be happy if we return without his daughter!"
They need to get going. "Sorry," Luke apologizes, pushing Artoo away. "Go with your owner—is it Artoo?"
"It is," the man allows. "And I am Threepio."
"Luke Skywalker," Luke answers as Artoo presses towards him again. He rubs the dog's head.
"Oh. Oh." Threepio covers his mouth, releasing Artoo's leash. The dog promptly knocks Luke back onto his rear. "Oh goodness gracious me, I am so sorry—Artoo, you naughty dog, you—"
"It's really okay," Luke protests, gaping up at the man. "Do you know my name?"
"What? Oh—no. No, I don't, Mr. Skywalker." Threepio peers down the street. Two little kids pounce on Artoo, their parents shrugging apologetically. "Are you waiting for someone?"
"My friend, but I don't know where he is. He was supposed to meet my bus at three," Luke admits, face flushing. Now it seems like I'm a loser. "Might as well wait for the next bus to get back to Tatooine."
"Tatooine? Oh, but there isn't another bus," Threepio says. "Not until next Sunday."
"What?" Luke's jaw drops.
"There are some rooms above in several local hotels," Threepio suggests.
"Thanks." Luke grimaces. "I don't have money for that."
"Oh dear." Threepio wrings his hands. The children scamper off, and he reaches down to pick up Artoo's leash again.
"Don't worry about me," Luke says glumly. The light dims to a dusky blue. "I'll figure something out." Honestly, Biggs? So much for being friends. Next time Luke sees him, he'll give him an earful. Although it's nothing compared to the earful he'll get from Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. He can hear the peculiar pronunciation of irreSPONsible right now.
"Well, I could ask my boss if he has a place for you to stay," Threepio muses.
"Really?" Luke gasps. If he can stay for the weekend after all, maybe it won't be a waste. Maybe he'll have some good memories to get him through the hours of work waiting at the farm, something fun to report when his teachers ask what he did over the summer when school starts again. For the first time ever.
"Senator Organa is a very kind man. Of course, if I don't find his daughter, I'm afraid I won't be able to—"
"How old is she?" Luke asks, scrambling to his feet. Maybe if he can get a place for tonight, he can find Biggs in the morning. "What does she look like?"
"She's fifteen," Threepio answers. "She wears her hair in two buns. Her name is Leia Organa."
My age. Luke tries to shake off his curiosity. "Where does she like to hang out?" He hoists his bag up, pulse quickening. We're gonna find her. Artoo woofs as if he's pleased with Luke helping them out.
"The boardwalk, but no one saw her there—there was a very large and rowdy party on the beach last night; the police have been quite strict since—" Threepio mutters to himself as he pushes through the crowds. "But she wasn't involved; I'm sure of it, and they didn't find her there—she was reading on the beach, so please don't assume that of her. She's smarter than most teenagers in some ways—oh, why does she have to run off like this?"
"Maybe we can ask people if they've seen her?" Luke suggests. Shops surround them, along with three competing bars. "Do you think she'd be in one of these?"
"I do hope not," Threepio frets. "If Artoo and I take the one across the street, would you be able to check in here?"
"Of course," Luke agrees, reading the sign. Mos Eisley Cantina. "I'll meet you back out here in ten minutes?" He's desperate for some adventure. And since he's here until Sunday, he'll take anything that makes his bus ticket less of a waste of his meager allowance.
"Will do." Threepio nods and affords him a very tight smile. "Come along, Artoo."
The dog whines as Threepio pulls him away. Luke waves and ducks into the bar, which smells of sweet alcohol and sweat. A man with a hooked nose vomits in one corner, and two others seem to be engaged in a shouting match.
"Are you even old enough to drink?" demands the bar owner, marching up to him.
"Does it matter?" Luke asks.
"The police are cracking down, so yes, it does. Scram!"
"I'm just looking for someone," Luke tries again. "Leia Organa. Fifteen, hair in two buns?" Oh, good grief, he doesn't even know what color this Leia's hair is.
"Haven't seen her. Now get out." The barman crosses his arms over his barrel chest.
"But maybe one of your patrons has?" Luke asks. "I'm not going to drink; I just want to ask if—"
"You better listen to him, kid," says a voice to Luke's left. He whirls around to see a tall boy, handsome despite the sweat on his face. An even taller boy with more of a beard than Luke suspects he'll ever be able to grow in his entire life stands behind him. "He's not playing around."
Who do they think they are? Humiliation crawls out of Luke's chest. He's so sick of everyone just seeing him as he is: a boring farmer, an outsider, a naive child. "You don't look much older than me," he protests. "Don't call me kid."
"I have ID." The boy rolls his eyes.
Luke grits his teeth. "Well, have you seen Leia Organa? Hair in two buns, fifteen?"
"Does it seem like fifteen-year-olds are welcome here?" the boy demands. "Sorry, kid—er, what's your name?"
"Luke Skywalker." The band turns up the music, saxophones wailing. Uncle Owen would like this music.
"Okay, Luke Skywalker. I'm Han Solo. But you need to get out of here, and no, I haven't seen this Organa princess."
"Princess?" Luke echoes.
"The Organas are one of those families," Han says, rolling his eyes. "Not in the least surprised that a rich girl would vanish at night to do God knows what with God knows whom."
Luke's nose crinkles, repulsed. "You shouldn't say stuff like that. You don't even know her."
Han laughs. "I say what I want. Now leave."
Scowling, Luke retreats. He hates being treated like an ignorant—
"Luke! Oh, good!" exclaims Threepio, darting across the street.
"Sorry," Luke says. "I couldn't get to ask—"
"Well, does it matter?" interrupts a voice from behind him. "I'm here. Not in any of the bars, but thanks for assuming that, Threepio."
Luke turns to see a short girl, thick brown hair done up in two glossy buns and draped in a flowing, short white dress. She's beautiful. "Leia Organa? I presume?"
"Yeah, and who are you?" She narrows her eyes.
"I'm—Luke Skywalker." He swallows.
"Well, nice to meet you." Leia nods. "Threepio says you need a place to stay; I'm sure my dad will work something out."
Artoo barks and she laughs, dropping to her knees to scratch around the dog's ears.
"Shall we leave?" Threepio asks, looking exhausted. Somehow Luke suspects that if his job is to look after Leia and keep her out of trouble, he has years of stress behind and ahead of him.
"Not so fast," interrupts an impossibly deep voice. Luke's spine stiffens, and dread seeps through him.
"What do you want?" demands Leia.
A tall man, dressed in a police uniform and with a face that looks like it's out of a horror film—burned and scarred—scowls at them. "I received a tip, Miss Organa. That you may have been involved in the ruckus on the beach the other night."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Leia insists. "I was at home. Threepio can tell you."
"She was indeed," Threepio confirms. He frowns.
Didn't Threepio say she was reading on the beach? Luke remembers. How does one even read on the beach after dark?
"Not good enough. Hand over your purse."
"For what?" Leia yelps.
"Officer Vader, I'm afraid I must protest!" Threepio cries. "She's not—"
"If she has nothing to hide, then she has nothing to fear," Officer Vader points out. The first stars appear overhead, and a very full moon gleams against the red and violet sky. "If you're carrying anything illegal—"
"I'm not high, and while I probably could fit a can or two in here, I assure you I don't have anything," Leia retorts.
"We shall see." He holds out his gloved hand. Weird. It's summer.
"I don't want you searching my purse," Leia snaps. Luke swallows.
"Do you have a warrant?" comes another voice.
Han. Luke's mouth falls open.
"Stay out of this," orders Vader.
"I'm just saying, Leia, that he can't search your purse without a warrant or probable cause." Han shrugs his shoulders.
Leia's eyes spark. A smile tugs at Luke's lips.
"Well then," Threepio says.
"Fine. But inform your father, Miss Organa, that I will not tolerate any more flouting of the law in this town. I don't care how powerful your family is."
Leia waits until his back is turned before she flips him off.
"Leia!" gasps Threepio.
"He wasn't looking for beer or drugs," Leia says. "What could those even prove? He was looking for these letters." She taps her purse.
"What?" yelps Threepio.
"They prove his corruption. Or, help the case Dad's building against him and other terrible cops," Leia insists.
Luke's impressed. Fifteen, and you're already doing this kind of thing?
"Threepio, if you'd be so kind as to deliver it to my father at his summer office," Leia says. "On Alderaan Street."
"I know where it is, but—" Threepio looks as if she just asked him to deliver a nuclear warhead.
"I'll take Luke to our home," Leia cuts in, grabbing Luke's arm. "Thanks, Threepio. And you." She looks to Han.
"Han Solo," he introduces himself, and then motions to his bearded friend. "This is Chewbacca. Chewie for short."
"Well, you know who I am. I appreciate it." Leia holds up her finger. "And not a word to anyone about what I just said, you hear?"
Han spreads his arms. "Does it look as if I'm the kind of guy who—"
"Yes," Leia cuts in. "For the right price. And don't count Vader out of paying it. He's not above anything." She jerks her head. "Come on, Luke."
Muttering, Threepio stalks down the street. Leia and Luke head in the other direction. After a few steps, Luke realizes Han's following.
"What do you want?"
"Is it a crime to head in the same direction?"
"No, but stalking's a crime," Leia snaps.
Han's face darkens, and Luke almost feels badly for him. "Well, it doesn't look as if the police will be coming to your aid anytime soon, princess."
"What did you just call me?" Leia rips her arm out of Luke's.
Han smirks. "I said—"
Leia's face, however, is downright terrifying. Her eyes narrow and blacken. "I don't know what you think you're—"
Chewie gasps and points. Luke whirls around. His heart stops at what he sees.
"But you're going to leave right now—" Leia continues.
"Leia!" Luke grabs her arm.
"Not you, too!" Leia complains.
"Not that! Vader's heading back this way!" Luke hisses. He can see the cop, silhouetted by the street lights as he passes a couple canoodling on a bench.
"Shit," Leia breathes.
"What do we do?" Luke gasps.
"Run!" Han shouts it, and without thinking, Luke takes off, Leia and Chewie behind them. They careen down a side street.
"Shit!" Leia stumbles. Han grabs her arm.
Luke rounds the corner and skids to a stop. Horror pricks him like a million frozen needles. "It's a dead end!"
"Great job!" Leia snaps at Han.
"Well, sorry I don't run from cops often!"
"That's a lie and we both know it." Leia rushes over to a dumpster.
"You don't have the papers anymore, do you?" Luke calls, desperate. I'm an accomplice! "So it won't be a—"
"Knowing Vader, he'll arrest us for running from him, and despite what this I'm-so-cool guy says over here, he does not want to be caught by the police!" Leia rips open the top of the dumpster. A foul stench emerges as she hoists herself up, peering in.
Han pales.
"Get in." Leia jerks her hand.
"In there?" Luke squeaks, aghast.
"You want to call your parents and tell them you're in jail?"
Luke can only imagine Aunt Beru's face. He'd rather not imagine Uncle Owen's lecture. "I live with my aunt and uncle."
"Sorry," Leia says with a grimace. Chewie climbs in, groaning as he slips inside. "I really am, Luke. Is this your first time in Yavin?"
He nods. Han reluctantly climbs inside, coughing, and reaches up to pull Luke in. Leia jumps, and the lid closes over them.
The stench is so foul that it's all Luke can do not to gag. The dumpster's mostly empty, but he steps in something slimy and doesn't even want to think about it.
"Great idea, princess," Han ekes out. Chewie coughs.
"Someone had to save our skins," she responds. In spite of himself, Luke breaks into a smile.
"I'm either going to kill you or I'm starting to like you," Han grouses.
Leia snorts. Luke bites back a snort. The stench seems to be getting worse the longer they're inside. He covers his nose with his hands. Footsteps echo outside, and Luke can hear muffled voices arguing.
"I can't make out what they're saying," Luke whispers. His heart pounds. If they open the dumpster—"Hello, Beru and Owen Lars? We found your nephew hiding from the cops in a garbage dumpster."
Footsteps head away, and Chewie covers his mouth to silence a cough. Leia sighs.
"So what are those papers exactly?" Han chokes out. "And why was a cop looking for them?"
Leia's quiet for a moment, and all Luke can hear is their stilted breaths. "They're financial information," she answers. "That indicates Chief Palpatine—or at least, Krennic, who's known as one of his pals—is being paid off and—"
"You need proof for that?" Han scoffs. "Everyone knows that. No one cares, though, and good luck finding someone who would."
"Really?" Leia demands. "The state attorney might care. And Vader's after my father. He has some kind of grudge against him and I can't imagine why, but he's determined to set him up to take the fall. The papers show that; my father can trace them and protect himself—"
What beach incident? Luke wants to scream.
"Wasn't it him?" Han asks. "If you have these plans—"
"No," Leia answers. "It was other people. Friends. We weren't involved, actually, my father not at all—don't—"
"Relax, Princess, I believe you."
"Stop calling me that!"
"You like it."
"I do not!"
Luke groans, his head thunking back against the dumpster. Ew!
The top of the dumpster creaks, and all of them shut up. Luke's heart pounds. This can't be—
"All right, kids," comes a voice Luke's never heard before, kind and almost amused. "Out of the dumpster."
"Obi-Wan!" shrieks Leia.
"How did you get him to leave?" Leia gasps as she, Han, Luke, and Chewie all gather in Obi-Wan's living room. Obi-Wan invited them all to quickly rinse off in his bathroom, but even so, he lights about six different candles, all smelling of a different type of flower.
"You're right under my apartment," Obi-Wan says. "I simply told Vader that I was taking out my trash and hadn't seen anyone." He frowns at her. "You have to be more careful in the future."
"Obi-Wan used to be a cop," Leia tells Luke and Han. Han grimaces.
"Yes, I know about you," Obi-Wan tells him. "The key words here are 'used to be.' You have nothing to fear."
Still wary, Han eases himself onto the sofa, hair damp and clinging to his forehead. Leia turns away.
"And who are you?" Obi-Wan asks Luke.
"Luke Skywalker," says the boy, who's cute and gives off a sweet, innocent aura. "I was supposed to visit my friend Biggs—"
"Darklighter?" Chewie interrupts. "He was arrested earlier today for the beach incident. He'll be out tomorrow."
"Oh." Luke relaxes. Leia focuses on a red rose candle glowing behind her. She breathes in the scene, trying to push the putrid memory of the trash can away. It's worth it, if it helps her father. And Palpatine's an evil bastard. He can't be allowed to ruin so many lives, him and Krennic and Vader.
"You live with Beru and Owen?" Obi-Wan questions.
Huh? Leia blinks.
"Yeah," Luke says, combing his wet hair with his fingers. "I do. You know them?"
"I know them, yes." Obi-Wan smiles, leaning forward. "Somehow I suspect they don't know you're here."
Wow. Although Leia shouldn't be so shocked. Obi-Wan knows everybody.
Luke drops his gaze. "They know now. I left a note."
Han whistles. "A runaway? Wouldn't have pegged you as the type."
Leia rolls her eyes. Poor Luke.
"Your parents dead?" Han asks.
Luke nods, but Leia's jaw drops. "That's a terrible thing to—"
"Mine died when I was twelve. Car crash," Han says.
Oh. Leia's mother died when she was that age, too. She was so beautiful, and everything Leia aspires to be. Would she be proud of me, for smuggling those papers to Dad? Or scold me for risking myself?
Dad will be proud of her. And her conscience wouldn't have stayed quiet if she'd ignored Cassian Andor's request. That's not who Leia is. When she sees something that is wrong, she has to try to fix it. She has to.
"Just for the weekend," Luke protests. He peers at the towering bookshelf, simply carved but massive, every inch stuffed with books. "Are you related to Ben Kenobi?"
"I am Ben Kenobi, or should I say, Ben Kenobi is me," Obi-Wan answers. "It's my pen name. Beru and Owen are old friends of mine."
"No way!" Luke exclaims. "I'm a huge fan of yours, sir—I want to be a journalist, just like you."
"You're a fan of mine, hm? I haven't even accomplished much," Obi-Wan says with a smile.
"Yes, you have," Leia insists. "Your work on the presidential scandal was enough to win you an award and it's the reason that university wants you to teach there." Obi-Wan's her second hero, after her father.
Han raises his eyebrows as if he's impressed.
Obi-Wan clears his throat. "I'm leaving at the end of the summer, as your father's told you."
She nods. Try as she might, Leia can't picture summer here at Yavin without Obi-Wan. He's always been here, almost like an uncle to chase her through the water, give her chocolate when her father's not looking, and since her mother's death, regale her with stories about her life. A lump grows in Leia's throat.
"I can call Beru and Owen and see if you can spend more time here," Obi-Wan says. "Should you want to stay with me for a few weeks, and help me edit my latest book, you'd be welcome to."
"Really?" Luke leaps to his feet. Shock spreads through Leia, but the good kind of shock, the kind that makes you dizzy with the mere idea. Because for all of Yavin's perks, Leia's lacking some close friends her age.
"We'll see," Obi-Wan amends. "We used to be close friends," he adds, staring at a white lily candle.
"Did you know my parents?" Luke blurts out.
"Yes, and what happened was truly tragic." Obi-Wan presses his lips together.
What did happen? Leia wonders. She looks at the blonde boy and sees someone who wonders, someone whom she feels a strange understanding with. And he didn't have to help. Neither Luke, nor Han, nor Chewie did. And still they helped her. Leia's heart soars. People are good at heart.
"That's a story for another time," Obi-Wan concludes.