A/N:
Sage 1988: Thanks
for adding my story to your favorite list! Hope you are enjoying it.
Orange Rain: Hello, and happy reading, hope you like where this goes!
Jenny 2412: Yes, there will be things in this story that don't mesh with how it was originally written, but as warned this is how we see the story going. Whether or not Leia is a bigger fighter then this when it comes to her Father we will see...
As always thanks to those who are reading this, please review as the story goes along, your suggestions are more than welcome and desired! I was stalling a bit on this chapter as I knew it would be a longer one, and I personally hate longer chapters, they slow down the pace too much for me. I had thought about breaking it up some to make it an easier pill to swallow and decided against it. Forgive the misplacement of when the torture proid droid, as it is not where it is supposed to be in chronological order...but I thought it would be more fitting in the next chapter. I will be more more mindful of this in the future. My apologies for not posting recently, this week has been a bit nuts! Without further ado...the new chapter!
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Chapter 4: A Boy's Discovery:
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Jundland Wastes, or "No Man's Land", where the rugged desert mesas meet the foreboding dune sea. The twin suns blazed down on the sands creating a glare that if not careful had been known to blind people. The escape pod lies half-buried in the sand, evidence of a violent escape from the Star Destroyer. Two tracks line the hot sand as two helpless droids kick up clouds of sand as they leave the lifepod and clumsily work their way across the desert wasteland.
"How did we get into this mess? I really don't know how. We seem to be made to suffer. It's our lot in life." Threepio's metallic voice droned on, his appraisal of situations never sounded to be cast in a positive manner. Artoo just answers him with a series of beeping noises.
"I've got to rest before I fall apart. My joints are almost frozen." Threepio picks up one leg kicking it around a bit, jiggling back and forth, and then the other, hoping to get rid of some of the sand that was caked in his joints.
Artoo's head piece swivels to look at Threepio as they continued to trek on. More beeps stemming from his the little blue and white droid. It was a good thing for Artoo that when he was constructed the maker was thoughtful enough to include some heavy duty air filtration devices around the wheel base, otherwise his bearings would have seized up by now causing him to be immobile.
"What a desolate place this is." Threepio never knew when to shut up and his constant barrage of prissy whining always knew how to grate on someone's nerves, it was just lucky for him that Artoo was very considerate of such things.
Suddenly Artoo whistles, makes a sharp right turn and starts off in the direction the rocky desert mesas. Threepio stops in his tracks looking back at Artoo. "Where are you going?" A stream of electronic noises pours from the small droid, turning quite argumentative. "Well I'm not going that way. It's much too rocky. This way is much easier."
Artoo counters with a long whistle. If droids could be impatient, then this little one had almost lost his. Threepio could not believe that they were arguing over this, it seemed absurd to him. "What makes you think there are settlements over that way?" Artoo turned more argumentative. "Don't you get technical with me."
Turning and heading down his new direction for a few paces, before the cylinder head rotated back to Threepio once more. Jarbles and beeps sounds coming from Artoo. "What mission? What are you talking about? I've had just about enough of you! Go that way!" Threepio takes a few steps towards the little droid standing next to him now. "You'll be malfunctioning within a day, you nearsighted scrap pile!"
Threepio gives Artoo a little kick towards the bottom part of his main cylinder and starts off towards the direction of the vast dune sea. "And don't let me catch you following me begging for help, because you won't get it." Artoo's reply was a rather rude sound. He turns and trudges off in the direction of the towering rocks. "No more adventures. I'm not going that way." Threepio halted looking back at Artoo.
Artoo no longer caring what Threepio has to say about the matter, fully sets his direction towards the distant mountains. Making small beeping noises to only himself now he took up what seemed to be a light melody of humming.
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A few hours later......
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Threepio makes his way through the desert, separated from his counterpart he struggled up over the ridge of a dune, only to find more dunes, which seemed to go on for endless miles. He looks back in the direction that he came from and towards the rock mesas. "That malfunctioning little twerp. This is all his fault! He tricked me into going this way, but he'll do no better."
In a huff of anger and frustration, Threepio knocks the sand from his joints. His plight seems hopeless, when a glint of light in the distance reveals an object moving towards him. Threepio seemed to perk up then as he caught sight of it.
"Wait, what's that? A transport! I'm saved!" The bronze plated android waves frantically and yells at the approaching transport. "Over here! Help! Please, help! Over here!"
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Sunset.....
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The gargantuan rock formations are shrouded in a strange foreboding mist and the onimous sounds of unearthly creatures fill the air. Artoo moves cautiously through the creepy rock canyon, inadvertently making a loud clicking noise as he goes. He hears a distant hard, metallic sound and stops his movement for several moments. Convinced he is alone he continues on his way.
In the distance, a pebble tumbles down the steep canyon wall and a small dark figure darts into the shadows. A little further up the canyon a slight flicker of light reveals a pair of eyes hooded by a dark brown hood in the dark recesses only a few feet from the narrow path.
The insuspecting robot waddles along the rugged trail until suddenly, out of nowhere, a powerful magnetic ray shoots out of the rocks and engulfs the small droid with an eerie glow. He manages one electronic squeak before he topples over on to his back. His bright computer lights flicker, then finally dim out. Out of the rocks scurry three Jawas. Cloaked in dark brown robes and hoods, they were no bigger than Artoo himself. They holster complex and strange looking weapons as the cautiously approach the droid. Faces shrouded by the hoods, only their glowing yellow eyes could be seen, they hiss and make odd guttural sounds as the heave the robot onto their shoulders and carry him off down the trail.
The eight Jawas carry Artoo out of the canyon to a huge tank-like vehicle that standsfour stories high. They weld a small disk on the side of Artoo and place him under a large tube on the side of the vehicle as the small droid is sucked up into the giant machine. The filthy little creatures scurry like rats up a small set of ladders and enter the main cabin of the behemoth transport.
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The interior of the Sandcrawler is bleak, a droid component room is littered with spare parts, old droids that are broken down, rusting away because they have outlived their usefullness. The ceiling is four feet high, making this area very cramped for taller droids. Artoo slips down the chute and crashes loudly into the chamber waking up several droids. Other droids mill about, others engaged in various forms of electronic conversations. A voice of recognition calls out from the gloom of the small room.
"Artoo-Detoo! It's you! It's you!" Threepio's vocabulator was shrill and sounded excited at the return of his friend. Battered, Threepio scrambled up to his friend and embraces him. The enormous Sandcrawler lumbers off toward the magnificent twin suns that slowly set over the distant mountains.
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Four Imperial Storm Troopers mill about in front of the half-buried lifepod that brought Threepio and Artoo to Tattooine. A couple are on foot, one is mounted on a large creature, complete with a harness. It's hide is tough, has a long tail and it bent down sniffing at the sand as if to catch a trail. A trooper yells to an officer some distance away. "Someone was in the pod. The tracks go off in this direction."
A second trooper picks a small bit of metal out of the sane and gives it to the first trooper. "Look, sir.....droids."
The Sandcrawler moves slowly down a great dand dune as the troopers continue to investigate the scene at hand. Knowing that if they have any hope of evading Darth Vader's quick judgements and punishments they had better find those droids, and the best way to do that was to follow the tracks....
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The droids bounce around in the small room as the giant tank trudges along. Artoo and Threepio see this as a prison, as a gross violation of what they were programmed to do in the first place. Artoo appears to be shut off as the the Sandcrawler begins to slow down. "Artoo? Wake up! Wake up!" Threepio bangs on Artoo's domed head a few times in an attempt to speed up the process. Suddenly the bouncing and shaking of the crawler stops, creating quite a commotion among the mechanical men.
Artoo's computer lights begin to turn on as he begins beeping after Threepio's constant banging on his head seemed to do the trick. At the far end of a long chamber a hatch opens, filling the chamber with blinding white light. A dozen or so Jawas make their way through the odd assortment of droids. Threepio sees the tiny creatures move through what some would call assorted junk towards him and Artoo. Looking down at his friend his voice grows dim. "We're doomed. Do you think they'll melt us down?" Artoo responds with only a series of very low beeps, almost like he is depressed. The Jawa comes up to them pointing his odd shaped blaster at the two droids and prods them with the muzzle to get moving. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! Will this never end?" Threepio mutters as they are pushed down the ramp and outside.
The Jawas mutter gibberish as the busily line up their droids for inspection to include Threepio and Artoo. The droids take their places in front of the crawler which is parked besides a small homestead consisiting of three large holes in the ground surrounded by several tall moisture vaporators and one small adobe block house.
Jawas flutter around fussing over the droids, straightening them up or brushing of some dust from a dented metallic elbow. The shrouded little creatures smell horribly, attracting small insects to the dark areas where their mouths and nostrils should be.
Out of the dingy side-building limps Owen Lars. A large burly man, quite a bit older his hair is grey along with his scraggly beard. His reddish eyes are sunken in a dust-covered face. As the farmer carefully inspects each robot, he is closely followed by his slump-shouldered nephew, Luke Skywalker. One of the little Jawas walks ahead of the farmer spouting an animated sales pitch in a queer, unintelligible language.
A voice calls out from one of the huge hols that form the homestead. Luke goes over to the edge and sees his Aunt Beru standing in the main courtyard. "Luke tell Owen that if he gets a translator droid to be sure it speaks Bocce."
"It looks like we don't have much of a choice but I'll remind him." Luke nodded his head and ran back over to his Uncle's side. Looking over the assembled amount of equipment together, they continue to discuss the prices with the Jawa leader.
"I have no need for a protocol droid." Owen merely states as he comes to stop in front of Threepio.
Threepio seemed a bit disturbed by this but quickly responded. "Of course not sir, not in an environment like this, that's why I've also been programmed for over thirty secondary functions that..."
Owen had no time for this. Cutting off the droid his voice was gruff. All business. "What I really need is a droid that understand the binary language of moisture vaporators."
Threepio threw up his arms excitedly. "Vaporators! Sir, my first job was programming binary load lifters, very similar to your vaparators. You could say..."
Damn! This droid could talk, he would have to see about limiting his speech some. Owen eyed the droid, eyes turning into narrow slits as he looked him over, still a bit skeptive."Do you speak Bocce?"
Threepio saw his chance, the odds were in his favor that this strange farmer would pick him in a sales transaction. "Of course I can sir, I am fluent in over six million forms of communication. It's like a second language to me..."
"Alright shut up." Owen turned to the Jawa nodding his head. "I'll take this one." Moving down the line the lead Jawa waved his arms slightly, a signal to get Threepio ready to be transfered over. Seeing a red Artoo unit he picked that one too. "Luke, take these two over to the garage, will you? I want you to have of them cleaned up before dinner."
Luke shook his head, he could not believe it. He had already made plans and his Uncle expected him to change them, this could wait till tomorrow! "But I was going into Toshi Station to pick up some power converters..."
Owen held up his hand to silence what he already knew was coming. "You can waste time with your friends when your chores are done. Now come on, get to it."
"Alright come on!" Luke waited for a moment as he watched the red Artoo unit. As Luke begins to lead the two droids into the garage area the Jawas begin to take the remaining three droids into the crawler. Artoo lets out some pathetic little beeps and starts after his old friend Threepio. He is held back by a Jawa who points an electronic device at Artoo and with a push of a button Artoo falls silent.
Owen is still negotiating the price with the Lead Jawa when the red Artoo unit begins to spark and smoke. Sizzling sounds are heard coming from it and Luke turns back around and watches as the droid effectively fries itself out. Leaning over the droid to inspect it Luke shakes his head. "Uncle Owen..."
Owen looks up from his talks with the Jawa to Luke. "Yeah?" Luke holds up a couple of wires that he has pulled from the droid to show his Uncle that the red astromech droid was not worth it. "This R2 unit has a bad motivator. Look!"
Owen turned to the Jawa pointing a finger at him. His tone turned a bit menacing, trying to intimidate the little creature. "Hey, what're you trying to push on us?"
The Jawa goes into a loud spiel. Meanwhile, Artoo has sneaked out of line and is moving up and down trying to attract attention. He lets out a low whistle. Threepio taps Luke on the shoulder, pointing to Artoo. "Excuse me sir, but that Artoo unit is in prime condition. A real bargain."
Luke considers this for a moment and watched the small blue droid. It seemed ok. "Uncle Owen....what about that one?"
Owen looks at a wildly bouncing Artoo and looks back to the Jawa. "What about that blue one? We'll that that one instead." With a little reluctance the little brown cloaked creature noded and traded the damaged droid for Artoo calling it even.
Threepio looked at look and nodded his shiny head. "I'm quite sure you'll be very pleased with that one sir. He really is in first-class condition. I've worked with him before. Here he comes now."
Owen pays off the still whining Jawa as Luke and the two robots head inside the garage. "Now, don't you forget this! Why I should stick my neck out for you is quite beyond my capacity!" Threepio mutters to Artoo as Luke takes them inside finally.
The garage is cluttered and worn, but a friendly peaceful atmosphere permeates the low grey chamber. Various parts of a speeder and other various mechanical devices are scattered around the small circular room. Threepio lowers himself into a large vat filled with warm oil. The steam can be seen coming off it's surface. Near the landspeeder little Artoo rests with a large battery cable attached to a socket located in his head piece.
"Thank the maker! This oil bath is going to feel so good. I've got such a bad case of dust contimanation, I can barely move!" Artoo beeps a muffled reply. Luke seems to be lost in thought as he runs his hand over the damaged fin of a small two-man Skyhopper spaceship resting in a low hangar off the garage. Finally Luke's frustrations get the better of him and he slams a wrench across the workbench.
"It just isn't fair. Oh, Biggs is right. I'm never gonna get out of here!"
Threepio begins to rise from the steaming oil. Now gleaming in the low light of the garage he would appear to be almost brand new if not for the different colored plating on his lower left leg. "Is there anything I might do to help?"
Sighing a bit Luke glances to the battered robot. A bit of his anger subsiding and a tiny smile creeps over his face. "Well, not unless you can alter time, speed up the harvest, or teleport me off this rock!" He almost had to laugh at that, he was never getting out of here.
Stepping out of the bath Threepio ponders this for a moment and merely tosses up his hands in an animated gesture. "I don't think so sir. I'm only a droid and not very knowledgeable about such things. Not on this planet anyways. As a matter of fact, I'm not even sure which planet I'm on.
Luke being a smart ass sometimes responded the only way he could think of. "Well if there's a bright center to the universe, you're on the planet that it's farthest from."
"I see sir,"
"Uh, you can call me Luke"
"I see sir Luke."
Luke had to laugh at that, he was bent over the little astromech droid now, cleaning him off with the edge of a knife. Scraping off some muck or another he found the gold colored droid to be at least interesting to talk to. "Just Luke."
"And I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg relations, and this is my counterpart, Artoo-Detoo"
Look stopped scraping the blue droid for a moment and drew the knife up almost like he was waving. "Hello."
Artoo beeps a response and Luke goes back to scraping off several of Artoo's connectors. Wiping off some spots and he scoots over to work on another section Luke looks over his shoulder at Threepio. "Your friend has got a lot of carbon scoring here. It looks like you boys have seen a lot of action."
"With all we've been through sir, sometimes I'm amazed we're in as good condition as we are, what with the Rebellion and all."
"You know of the Rebellion against the Empire?!" Luke could not believe what he was hearing from Threepio.
"That's how we came to be in your service, if you take my meaning, sir."
"Have you been in many battles?"
"Several, I think. Actually, there's not much to tell. I'm not much more than an intrerpreter, and not very good at telling stories. Well, not at making them interesting, anyways."
Luke is crouched down and struggles to remove a small metal fragment from Artoo's neck joint. Swapping out tools he picks up a larger blade and continues to work on the droid, hoping to pry out whatever it is that's stuck in the section. "Well my little friend, you've got something jammed in here real good. Were you on a crusiser or...."
The fragment breaks loose with a snap, sending Luke reeling back head over heels. He sits up and sees a twelve-inch, three-dimensional hologram image of Leia Organa, the Rebel Senator from Alderaan, being projected from a little circle emittier that resembled an eye from the little face of Artoo. The image is a rainbow of colors as it flickers and jiggles in the dimly lit garage. Luke's tampering obviously messing up the recording. His mouth hangs open in awe of the beauty he sees before him. "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."
"What's this?" Luke asks. Caught up in the beauty of the image of the girl in the image. She could not be any older then he was, and never in his years growing up here on Tattooine had he ever seen anything that looked so gorgeous.
Artoo looks around and sheepishly beeps an answer for Threepio to translate. Leia continues to repeat the same fragment over and over. "What is what?!? He asked you a question.." Threepio pointed to the holo-image. "What is that?"
"Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope."
Artoo made some beeps and warbles as the image kept playing. "Oh, he says it's nothing, sir. Merely a malfunction. Old data, pay it no mind."
Luke becomes intrigued by the beauty, canting his head to the side. His mind seems to filled with her image, committing it to memory, seemingly hynpotized. "Who is she? She's beautiful."
"I'm afraid I'm not quite sure, sir."
Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi.....
"I think she was a passenger on our last voyage. A person of some importance, sir. I believe our captain was attached to----"
"Is there more to this recording?" Luke asked, having a need to see what else this young woman had to say. Luke reaches out for Artoo but he lets out several frantic squeaks and a whistle.
"Behave yourself Artoo. You're going to get us in trouble. It's all right, you can trust him. He's our new master."
Artoo whistles and beeps, seeming to get excited. "He says he's the property of Obi-Wan Kenobi, a resident of these parts. And it's a private message for him. Quite frankly, sir, I don't know what he's talking about. Our last master was Captain Antilles, but with what we've been through, this little R2 unit has become a bit eccentric."
"Obi-Wan Kenobi? I wonder if he means old Ben Kenobi?" Luke muses mostly to himself but out loud hoping that Threepio could shed some more light on it.
"I beg your pardon, sir, but do you know what he's talking about?"
"Well I don't know anyone named Obi-Wan, but old Ben lives out beyond the dune sea. He's kind of a strange old hermit." Luke gazes over the princess for a few moments. "I wonder who she is. It sounds like she's in trouble. I'd better play back the whole thing." Luke readjusts his position reaching out to Artoo.
"He says the restraining bolt has short circuited his recording system. He suggests that if you remove the bolt, he might be able to play back the entire recording."
Luke lost in a daze as he watches the recording, his eyes wander over the lovely princess and had not heard a word Threepio had said. "H'm? Oh yeah, well, I guess you're too small to run away on me if I take this off. Okay.." Luke takes a wedged bar and pops off the droid. "There you go." The princess image disappears instantly. "Hey, what a minute. Where'd she go? Bring her back! Play back the entire message."
Artoo beeps an innocent reply to Threepio as the bronze droid sits up in embarrassment. "What message? The one you're carrying around inside your rusty innards!" A woman's voice calls out from another room.
"Luke? Luke! Come on for dinner!" Luke stands up shaking his head at the malfunctioning droid.
"All right, I'll be right there Aunt Beru."
"I'm sorry sir, but he appears to have picked up a slight flutter."
Luke tosses Artoo's restraining bolt on to a nearby workbench and hurries out of the room. "See what you can do with him. I'll be right back." With that Luke vanishes off into the other room for dinner. Threepio looks to Artoo, seemingly quite annoyed with his little friend.
"Just you reconsider playing that message for him." Artoo beeped a little at that, and a few raspberries slipped out. "No, I don't think he likes you at all." Another beep from the blue astromech droid. "No, I don't like you either."
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The dining area was small, cramped but represented the comfortable sense of living. One not wasted on riches, but on survivability. The three of them sat around the table as his Aunt fussed over the sink.
Aunt Beru, a warm, motherly woman, filled a pitcher with a blue milk from a refrigerated container in the well-used kitchen. She puts it on a tray with some small bowls of food and sets it all down on the table between them. Dishing out the bowls and a few smaller ones filled with red grain they all begin to eat silently. Pausing for a moment Luke looks between his Aunt and Uncle stirring his food around with a spoon. "You know, I think that R2 unit we bought might have been stolen..."
"What makes you think that?" Came the gruff response from his Uncle.
"Well, I stumbled across a recording while I was cleaning him. He says he belonged to someone called Obi-Wan Kenobi." Owen seemed to be alarmed by the mentioning of this name but kept his calm as Luke plodded along. "I thought he might have meant old Ben. Do you know what he's talking about? Well I wonder if he's related to old Ben."
Owen lets his control drop as he listens to Luke and his wondering about old Ben. "That old man's just a crazy old wizard. Tomorrow I want you to take that R2 unit into Anchorhead and have it's memory wiped. That'll be the end of it. That droid belongs to us now."
"But what if this Obi-Wan comes looking for him?"
"He won't. I don't think he exists anymore. He died about the same time as your Father."
"He knew my Father?" Luke could not believe what he was hearing, such a subject was usually banned from being talked about. Falling silent for a moment he took several bites of food as Owen spoke up once more.
"I told you to forget it. Your only concern is to prepare te new droids for tomorrow. In the morning I want them on the south ridge working on those condensers."
Taking a few moments to respond, he thought it was the perfect time to brooch the subject as it was a matter that usually made tempers flare. "You know, I think those new droids are going to work out fine. In fact, I, uh, was also thinking about our agreement about my staying on another season. And if these new droids do work out, I want to transmit my application to the Academy this year."
Owen's face becomes a scowl and his temper drew higher although he tries to suppress it. "You mean the next semester before the harvest."
"Sure, there's more than enough droids." Luke whined the last part of this.
"Harvest is when I need you the most. It's only one more season. This year we'll make enough on the harvest so I'll be able to hire some more hands. And then you can go to the Academy next year. Luke continues to toy with his food, not looking at his Uncle. "You must understand I need you here, Luke."
"But it's a whole 'nother year."
"Look it's only one more season."
Luke pushes his half-eaten plate of food aside and stands. "Where are you going?" This came from his Aunt Beru as she looked up at him curious as to where he was off to.
"It looks like I'm going nowhere. I've got to finish cleaning those droids." Luke looked to his Uncle pointedly, making sure he got his point across. Resigned to his fate, Luke paddles out of the room. Owen mechanically finishes his dinner.
"Owen, he can't stay here forever. Most of his friends have gone. It means so much to him."
"I'll make it up to him next year. I promise."
"Luke's just not a farmer, Owen. He had too much of his Father in him."
"That's what I'm afraid of."
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Luke enters the garage to discover the droids are nowhere in sight. He takes a small control rod from his belt similar to the one that Jawas were carrying. He activates the rod, which creates a low hum, and Threepio, letting out a short yell, pops up from behind the Skyhopper spaceship. "What are you doing hiding there?" Threepio stumbles forward, but Artoo is still nowhere in sight.
"It wasn't my fault, sir. Please don't deactivate me. I told him not to go, but he's faulty, malfunctioning, kept babbling on about his mission."
"Oh, no!"
Luke races out of the garage followed by Threepio. Rushing out of the small domed entry to the homestead and searches the darkening horizon for the small tripod astro-mech droid. Threepio struggles out of the home and on the salt flat as Luke scans the landscape with his electrobinoculars. "That R2 unit has always beena problem. These astro-droids are getting quite out of hand. Even I can't understand their logic at times." Threepio blathered on, explaining something that obviously did not need explaining.
"How could I be so stupid? He's nowhere in sight. Blast it!"
"Pardon me, sir, but couldn't we go after him?"
"It's too dangerous with all the Sandpeople around, we'll have to wait till morning."
Owen yelled out from the house plaza. "Luke? I'm shutting down the power for the night."
"All right, I'll be there in a few minutes. Boy, am I gonna get it." Taking one final look over the dim horizon he begins to head inside. "You know that little droid is going to cause me a lot of trouble."
"Oh he excels at that, sir."
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Getting to sleep that night had been a bit of an issue for Luke. After cleaning up in his refresher he had layed down on his small but comfortable bed. Staring up at the ceiling his thoughts had turned firstly to finding the little droid. How on earth was he going to find him now? The droid had plenty of a headstart on him, and Tattooine was known as a planet that if one wanted to get lost, it was easy to disappear on.
But secondly and maybe more importantly was the recording. He had to find out who she was. This thought over-rode all others as he finally fell asleep. His eyes moving rapidly behind shut lids as a dream came over him. The image from the recording of the beautiful woman in a white gown that did little to hid her figure. "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope." The words seemed to torment him not only when the image had first burts out to slightly light up the small garage, but now even in his sleep.
Obi-Wan Kenobi...old Ben Kenobi...his mind reached during his slumber, trying to find the connection between the two. The dream shifted, showing him Threepio and he picked up his words of her, and how she must be someone of great importance. Why would she choose to contact Obi-Wan? As he stated before she seemed like she was in some sort of trouble...
These images, words haunted him during his sleep causing him to wake up early. He threw on his usual attite, simple pants, boots and a light tunic, all colored in a light sand. The outfit served as much for function as it did for comfortability in the hot reflections of Twin Suns. Musing over the course of action he had to take, he activated Threepio and put his hand over the mouth piece in a sign for him not to say anything. "Come on...we got a roaming astro-mech droid to find before Uncle Owen has my hide." With that they moved out to the landspeeder and were off in search of the little bugger.
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Morning slowly creeps into the sparse but sparkling oasis of the open courtyard. The idyll is broken only by the yelling of Uncle Owen, his voice echoing throughout the homestead. Owen made his way out into the courtyard. "Luke? Luke? Luuuke? Where could he be?" Shaking his head he went back inside for breakfast before starting his daily duties.
The interior of the kitchen is a warm glow as Aunt Beru prepares the morning breakfast. Several pots on the stove steaming as she stirs one and chops up some green vegetables. Owen enters in a huff. "Have you seen Luke this morning?"
"He said he had some things to fo before he started today, so he left early."
"Uh? Did he take those two new droids with him?"
"I think so."
"Well he'd better have those units in the south range repaired by mid-day or there'll be hell to pay!"
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The rock and sand of the desert floor are a bit of a blur as Threepio pilots the sleek landspeeder gracefully across the vast wasteland. Luke using his electrobinoculars to scan the terrain for the little astromech droid. Setting down the binos for a moment he looks at Threepio a strange look passing over his features. "Old Ben Kenobi lives out in this direction somewhere, but I don't see how that R2 unit could have come this far. We must have missed him. Uncle Owen isn't going to take this vert well."
"Sir, would it help if you told him it was my fault?"
Luke brightened up a bit at the droid's question. "Sure, he needs you. He'd probably only deactivate you for a day or so...Wait, there's something dead ahead on the scanner. It looks like our droid hit the accelerator!"
From high on a rock mesa, the tiny landspeeder can be seen gliding across the desert floor. Suddenly two weather-beaten Sandpeople shrouded in their grimy desert cloaks peer over the edge of the rock cliff. One of the marginally human creatures raises a long ominous blaster rifle and points it at the speeder, but the second creature grabs the blaster before it can be fired.
The Sandpeople, or also known as Tusken Raiders, speak in a coarse barbaric language as they get into an animated argument. The second Tusken Raider seems to get in the final word as the nomads scurry over the rocky terrain.
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Luke parks the speeder when he finally gets a visual on Artoo. Parked in a rock bed of a massive canyon, Luke jumped out of the speeder with his long blaster rifle slung over his shoulder. Jogging a couple of steps to place himself in front of Artoo he puts his hand on the little one's domed head.
"Hey, whoa, just where do you think you're going?"
Artoo whistles his response in a resigned fashion and it is low in tone, feeble. Threepio comes up behind Artoo his arms moving around excitedly. "Master Luke is your rightful owner. We'll have no more of this Obi-Wan Kenobi jibberish...and don't talk to me about your mission either."
"Well come on. It's getting late. I only hope we can get back before Uncle Owen really blows up."
"If you don't mind me saying so, sir, I think you should deactivate the little fugitive until you've gotten him back to your workshop."
"Ah, no, he's not going to try anything."
Suddenly the little droid jumps to life with a mass of frantic whistles and screams. Bouncing on his little roller-feet his head spins looking to Threepio.
"What's wrong with him now?"
"Oh my, sir.....he says that there are several creatures approaching from the southeast."
Bringing his rifle up to bear he looks down the canyon, searching the sides and edges of the top for any signs that the Tuskens were around. "Sandpeople, or worse! Come on, let's go have a look. Come on."
Luke carefully made his way to the top of a rock ridge and scanned the canyon with his electrobinoculars. He spots the two riderless Bathas. Threepio struggles up behind the young adventurer. "There are two Bathas down there but I don't see any...wait a second, they're Sandpeople all right. I can see one of them now." He watches the distant Tusken through his binos. Suddenly a shadow passes in front of the lenses blocking his field of view. Before either Luke or Threepio can react a large, gruesome Raider looms over them. Threepio is startled and backs away, right off the side of the cliff. He can be heard for several moments as he clangs, bangs and rattles down the side of the mountain.
The towering creature brings down his curved, double-pointed gaderffii, the dreaded axe blade that has struck terror in the heart of the local settlers. Luke manages to block the strike with his rifle, which is now smashed to pieces. The terrified farm boy scrambles backward until he is forced to the edge of a deep crevice. The sinister Raider stands over him with his weapon raised and lets out a horrible shrieking laugh.
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Artoo forces himself into the shadows of a small alcove in the rocks as the vicious Sandpeople walk past carrying the inert Luke. Dropping him in a heap before the speeder they ransack it, throwing parts and supplies in all directions. Suddenly they stop, then everything is quiet for a few moments. A great howling moan is heard echoing throughout the canyon which sends the Raiders fleeing in terror.
Artoo moves even tighter into the shadows as the slight swishing sound that frightened off the Sandpeople grows even closer, until a shabby old desert-rat-of-a-man appears and leans over Luke. This man's face is hidden from view by a large brown hood, body cloaked in the same color robe. His ancient leathery face, cracked and weathered by exotic climates is set off by dark penetrating eyes and a scraggly white beard. Ben Kenobi squints his eyes as he scrutinizes the unconscious farm boy. Artoo makes a slight sound and Ben turns to look right at him.
"Why hello there! Come here my little friend. Don't be afraid."
Artoo waddles over to where Luke lies crumpled in a heap and begins to whistle and beep his concern. Ben puts his hand on Luke's foregead and the boy begins to come around. "Don't worry, he'll be all right." Ben reassured the droid.
"What happened?" Luke asked a bit groggy from the attack.
"Rest easy, son, you've had a busy day. You're fortunate you're still in one piece."
"Ben? Ben Kenonbi! Boy, am I glad to see you!"
"The Jundland Wastes are not to be traveled lightly. Tell me young Luke, what brings you out this far?"
"Oh this little droid! I think he's searching for his former master...I've never seen such devotion in a droid before...there seems to be no stopping him. He claims to be the property of an Obi-Wan Kenobi. Is he a relative of yours? Do you know who he's talking about?"
Ben ponders this for a moment, scratching his chin through the scruffy beard with a fingertip. "Obi-Wan Kenobi? Obi-Wan? Now that's a name I haven't heard in a long time, long time."
"I think my Uncle knew him. He said he was dead."
"Oh he's not dead.." Ben's eyes rolled in his head a bit. "Not...not yet."
"You know him!"
"Well of course, of course I know him. He's me! I haven't gone by the name Obi-Wan since oh, well before you were born."
"Then the droid does belong to you."
"Don't seem to remember ever owning a droid. Very interesting...." Ben suddenly looks up at the overhanging cliffs. "I think we better get indoors. The Sandpeople are easily startled but they will soon be back and in greater numbers."
Luke sits up rubbing his head. Artoo lets out a pathetic beep causing Luke to remember something. He looks around. "Threepio!" Luke and Ben stand over a very dented and tangled Threepio lying half buried in the sand. Threepio was a mess, wires hanging out everywhere, one of his arms had broken off. Luke tries several times to revive the droid by shaking him and then flips a hidden switch on his back of his neck several times until the mechanical man's systems turn on. "Where am I? I must have taken a bad step."
"Can you stand? We've got to get out of here before the Sandpeople return."
"I don't think I can make it. You go on Master Luke. There's no sense in you risking yourself on my account. I'm done for." Artoo makes a loud and flustered beeping noise, hearing Threepio's despair.
Luke merely shook his head. "No, you're not. What kind of talk is that anyways?" Luke and Ben help the battered droid to his feet. Little Artoo watches from the top of the pit. Ben glances around suspiciously. Sensing something he stands up and sniffs the air. "Quickly now, they're on the move."
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The small dwelling had very few things inside of it. Obi-Wan obviously did not believe in having a lot of personal possessions, though it is a bit cluttered with desert junk, it still manages to radiate an air of time-worn comfort and security. Luke is in one corner of the small home repairing Threepio's arm as old Ben sits thinking. "No, my Father didn't fight in the wars, he was a navigator on a spice freighter."
"That's what your Uncle told you. He didn't hold with your Father's ideals. Thought he should have stayed here and not gotten involved."
"You fought in the Clone Wars?"
Ben considered this for a moment, and he had known that for a long time this day would come. "Yes, I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your Father."
"He was the best star-piloit in the galaxy, and a cunning warrior, and a very good friend. I understand you've become quite a good pilot yourself. Which reminds me...." Ben got up and went to a chest where he rummages around some. As Luke finishes the repairs to Threepio's arm he starts to fit the restraining bolt back on but Threepio looks at him nervously. Luke considers it for a moment and then puts it on the table instead. Ben shuffles up and presents Luke with a short handle with several electronic gadgets attached to it.
"I have something here for you. Your Father wanted you to have this when you were old enough, but your Uncle wouldn't allow it. He feared you might follow old Obi-Wan on some damned-fool idealilstic crusade like your Father did."
"Sir, if you'll not be needing me, I'll close down for awhile."
"Sure go ahead." Luke watched Ben, transfixed at his tale, never having heard any of this. Ben handed Luke the saber and Luke grabbed at it, looking at it in a puzzled manner. "What is it?"
"Your Father's lightsaber. This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight. Not as clumsy or as random as a blaster."
Luke thumbed a button, a snap-hiss is heard as the lightsaber hums to life and a long beam of white-blue light shoots out of the tip about four feet and flickers there. The light plays across the ceiling as Luke begins to make small motions with it, hearing it hum in the air with each stroke.
"An elegant weapon for a more civilized time. For over a thousand generations the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic. Before the dark times, before the Emperor." Luke had not really been listening. Mesmerized by the lightsaber.
"How did my Father die?"
"A young Jedi named Darth Vader, who was a pupil of mine until he turned to evil, helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights. He betrayed and murdered your Father. Now the Jedi are all but extinct. Vader was seduced by the Dark Side of the Force."
"The Force?"
"Well, the Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us and penetrates us. It binds the galaxy together." Artoo makes some beeping noises attracting the attention of Ben and Luke. "Now, let's see if we can't figure out what you are, my little friend. And where you come from."
"I saw part of the message he was..." Luke is cut short as the recorded image of the lovely young Rebel princess is projected from the small lens planted in Artoo's face.
"I see, to have found it." Luke stops his work and shuts down the lightsaber, transfixed by the beautiful girl.
"General Kenobi, years ago you served my Father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my Father's request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack and I'm afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed. I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. My Father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid delivered safely to him on Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope."
There is a little static and the recording winks out, the light fading from the walls and cieling of the small dwelling. Old Ben leans back and scratches his head. He silently sits for a moment considering his options. Luke has stars in his eyes, obviously lost by watching the image again. Ben picked up on his surface thoughts and knew that Luke would be willing to help, if not for his Uncle. "You must learn the ways of he Force if you're to come with me to Alderaan."
Luke laughed, not believing his ears. "Alderaan, I'm not going to Alderaan. I've got to go home. It's late, I'm in for it as it is."
"I need your help Luke. She needs your help. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."
"I can't get involved! I've got work to do! It's not that I like the Empire. I hate it! But there's nothing I can do about it right now. It's such a long way from here."
"That's your Uncle talking."
"Oh, God, my Uncle. How am I ever going to explain this?"
"Learn about the Force Luke."
"Look I can take you as far as Anchorhead. You can get a transport there to Mos Eisley or wherever you're going."
"You must do what you feel is right of course."
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An Imperial Star Destroyer streaks across the heavens. It's course is the Empire's ultimate weapon, the Death Star itself. Inside one of the conference rooms on the Death Star, eight Imperial senators and generals sit around a table. Storm Troopers stand guard around the room itself. Commander Tagge, a young, slimy-looking general speaks to all the assembled members. "Until this battle station is fully operational we are vulnerable. The Rebel Alliance is too well equipped. They're more dangerous than you realize."
The bitter Admiral Motti twists in his chair nervously. He grew tired of this argument. "Dangerous to your starfleet, Commander, not to this battle station."
"The Rebellion will continue to gain support in the Imperial Senate as long as...."
Suddenly all heads turn as Commander Tagge's speech is cut off and the Grand Moff Tarkin, governor of the Imperial outland regions enters. He is followed by his powerful ally, The Sith Lord, Darth Vader. All of the generals stand and bow before the thin, evil-looking governor as he takes his place at the head of the table. The Dark Lord stands behind him. Tarkin's voice is loud and sinister. "The Imperial Senate will no longer be of any concern to us. I've just received word that the Emperor has dissolved the council permanently. The last remnants of the Old Republic have been swept away."
Commander Tagge could not believe what he was hearing, could it be true? "That's impossible! How will the Emperor maintain control without the bureaucracy?"
"The regional governors now have direct control over the territories. Fear will keep the local systems in line. Fear of this battle station." Came the quick response from Tarkin.
"And what of the Rebellion? If the Rebels have obtained a complete technical readout of this station, it is possible, however unlikely, that they might find a weakness and exploit it." Tagge was not complaining, just pointing out a fact that others had voiced also. It was a genuine concern.
"The plans you refer to will soon be back in our hands." This came from Vader, his deep, mechanical voice booming out for those gathered to listen to.
"Any attack made by the Rebels against this station would be a useless gesture, no matter what technical data they've obtained. This station is now the ultimate power in the universe. I suggest we use it." It had always been one of Admiral Motti's faults to speak out of turn, out of place and it was no different now.
"Don't be too proud of this technological terror you've constructed. The ability to destroy a planet is insignificant next to the power of the Force." Vader had begun to pace back and forth slightly, growing impatient. He had more pressing matters to attend to, his Daughter for instance.
"Don't try to frighten us with your sorcerer's ways, Lord Vader. Your sad devotion to that ancient religion has not helped you conjure up the stolen data tapes, or given you clairvoyance enough to find the Rebel's hidden fort...." Motti suddenly chokes and starts to turn blue under Vader's grip. The Dark Lord's hand was outstretched towards Motti, fingers curled. Motti began to sputter under Vader's control, it was like a phantom hand had clamped down around the man's throat.
"I find your lack of faith disturbing."
"Enough of this! Vader, release him!" Tarkin commanded of Vader, the only man ballsy enough to do so.
"As you wish." With a wave of his hand Vader let go of his grip of Motti's throat through the Force and the man collapsed to the table his breathing ragged. Tarkin turned to the group of people gathered looking each in the eye as he spoke.
"This bickering is pointless. Lord Vader will provide us with the location of the Rebel fortress by the time this station is operational. We will then crush the Rebellion with one swift stroke."
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Luke's speeder stops before what remains of the huge Jawas Sandcrawler. Luke and Ben both get out and walk among the smoldering rubble and scattered bodies. Shaking his head Luke took in the damage and the mass of bodies. Who could do such a thing to such creatures who really posed no threat?
"It looks like Sandpeople did this all right. Look, here are Gaffi sticks, Batha tracks. It's just....I've never heard of them hitting anything this bog before."
Ben crouches down, studying the tracks, the patterns they make. "They didn't. But we are meant to think they did. These tracks are side by side. Sandpeople always ride single file to hide their numbers."
"These are the same Jawas that sold us Artoo and Threepio."
Ben had now stood, moving up to the crawler itself. Inspecting some of the damage of it. Suddenly he knew what happened, what would happen. The Force was whispering to him of past and slightly future events, and he knew what he had to do. "And these blast points, too accurate for Sandpeople. Only Imperial Storm Troopers are so precise."
"Why would Imperial troops want to slaughter Jawas?" Luke looks back at the speeder tossing down one of the Gaffi sticks he had picked up. Artoo and Threepio are inspecting the dead Jawas and he finally puts two and two together. "If they traced the droids here, that means they may have leaned who they sold them to. And that would lead them.....home!" Luke reaches a sudden realization and races for his speeder jumping into it.
"Wait, Luke! It's too dangerous!" Ben cried out but it was too late. Luke was already on his way home. Racing off he leaves Ben and the two droids alone with the burning Sandcrawler.
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Luke races across the desert in his battered speeder, hoping beyond hope that he was wrong. But as he got closer he could seem a stream of black smoke snaking up into the skin. With a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach the speeder roared up the burning homestead. He jumped out and runs to the smoking holes that were once his home. Debris is scattered everywhere and it looks as if a great battle has taken place. "Uncle Owen! Aunt Beru! Uncle Owen!"
Luke stumbles around in a daze looking for his Aunt and Uncle. Suddenly he comes across their smoldering remains. He is stunned and cannot speak. Hate replaces fear and a new resolve comes over him.
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There is a large bonfire of Jawa bodies blazing in front of the Sandcrawler as Ben and the droids finish burning the dead. Luke pulls up in his speeder, a look of him being broken, lost, filled with anger and despair. All of these emotions pass over his face and are easily readable by Ben.
"There's nothing you could have done Luke, had you been there. You'd have been killed too and the droids would not be in the hands of the Empire."
"I want to come with you to Alderaan. There's nothing here for me now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my Father."
Ben claps a hand down on Luke's shoulder. A silent form of saying that he knew just how Luke felt, that he was reassuring him even as he said nothing. Hoping that the boy would not grieve for too long, they had serious matters to attend to.
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Alright folks! Sorry for the long chapter as I said up top! But I am glad to have it finished finally!
More next time and please review!
