Luke was waiting to show me to his family's dining room when I came out of the garage, even though I could see his aunt placing bowls of food on the table through a doorway. He raised an eyebrow at my lateness.

"Did you get lost?"

I ignored him, walking up to the table, nodding in response to Beru's questions about if I was feeling better or not, and sitting where she directed me. Luke sank into a chair next to me, the insults that I had hurled at him obviously forgotten.

"Did you get anything else out of those two droids?"

I shook my head. His proximity was making me extremely uncomfortable.

Owen sat down as Beru filled our glasses with a blue liquid that Dima didn't like me to buy on my trips into Anchorhead. I took a sip, and was surprised by its sweetness.

"You know, I think that that R2 unit we bought might have been stolen," Luke said casually to his uncle, placing several spoonfuls of red grain on his plate.

"What makes you think that?"

"Well, I stumbled across a recording while I was cleaning him. He says he belongs to someone named Obi-Wan Kenobi."

Owen's eyes widened briefly. My gaze snapped to him, and seeing the twitching muscles in his jaw and the sudden increase in his breathing, I realized that the name meant something to him. I resisted the urge to call him out on it, though, because that would just give Luke another opportunity to question me. Speaking of Luke, he was continuing.

"I thought he might have meant old Ben. Do you know what he's talking about?" The fact that he was the only one participating in the conversation didn't seem to have dawned on him yet. "Well, I wonder if he's related to Ben."

"The R2 unit?" I asked. Owen and Beru laughed a little too hard.

"I'm sure it's nothing, Luke," his uncle said, concentrating on his food.

"No, really, I think I should bring him out to Ben," he said. "It might be—"

Owen slammed his fist down on the table. I flinched.

"That old man's just a crazy old wizard," he snapped. "Tomorrow, I want you to take that R2 unit into Anchorhead and have its memory flushed. That'll be the end of it, you hear? It belongs to us now. There's no need to take it out to—"

"Owen!" Beru snapped. About halfway during his tirade, I had stood up abruptly, knocking my chair over and searching for a weapon. For a moment, the farmer's rage had reminded me a little too much of the incident from my childhood. He was a large man; I wouldn't want to be the object of his anger.

Owen muttered something under his breath about skittish hermits and then said, "I'm sorry, Nakomi."

I warily righted my chair and sat back down. As much as the outburst had terrified me, Luke seemed completely unaffected.

"But what if this Obi-Wan comes looking for R2?" he asked.

"He won't, I don't think he exists anymore," Owen replied. "He died about the same time as your father."

The farm boy became even perkier, if that was possible. "He knew my father?"

His uncle avoided his eyes. "I told you to forget it. Your only concern is to prepare the new droids for tomorrow. In the morning, I want them out on the south ridge, working out those condensers."

I scrutinized him, noticing the many signs of his discomfort. A creeping flush on his neck that wasn't from the heat, his shifting gaze, his fingers tapping nervously against the table. The subject of Luke's father, and Obi-Wan, was obviously not one that he was prepared to deal with at the moment. Which piqued my interest like nothing had for almost seventeen years.

"Yes, sir," Luke said. "I think those new droids are going to work out fine. In fact, I, uh, was also thinking about our agreement, about my staying for another season. And if these new droids do work out, I want to...transmit my—application to the Academy this year."

Shock, and a certain amount of fury, arced through me. I slammed my glass, which I had been drinking from, down on the table, ignoring the pale blue droplets that scattered over the table.

"The Academy?" I exclaimed. "What kind of scum do you think you are, wanting to become a pawn of the Empire? Have you even thought about this? Honestly, if you knew—"

"Nakomi..." There was a warning note in Owen's voice, something that told me it wasn't wise to speak like this in his house. But I held Luke's gaze.

"If you keep talking like that, you and Dima will wake up with Imperial Stormtroopers at your door," he responded.

"I've been waiting for them for seventeen years, it might be a relief!"

I wanted to take the words back as soon as they were out of my mouth. Why in the name of the Force had I said that? Of all the stupid, careless, idiotic—

"You mean the next semester before harvest?" Owen suddenly said. I felt a tremendous surge of gratitude towards him for changing the subject. It was as if nothing had ever happened.

"Sure, there's more than enough droids," Luke said cheerfully.

"Harvest is when I need you most," his uncle gently explained. "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—uh—" he glanced at me "—place next year."

I watched the boy sitting next to me play with his food. It made me uncomfortable, to be privy to such a private family discussion. Beru must have understood, for she began to suggest, "Why don't we discuss this la—"

"You must understand I need you here, Luke," Owen interrupted her.

"But it's a whole 'nother year," he muttered. His childishness surprised me, but I said nothing, just took another drink of the blue liquid.

"Look, it's only one more season."

Abruptly, he stood up, pushing his plate away. I instinctively leaned away from him, but didn't abandon my meal. I hadn't eaten this well in weeks; an entire battalion of Stormtroopers wouldn't be able to separate me from the contents of my plate.

"Yeah, that's what you said last year when Biggs and Tank left."

"Where are you going?" Beru asked, obviously trying to defuse the situation. But her nephew was already walking away.

"It looks like I'm going nowhere," he shot over his shoulder. "I have to finish cleaning those droids."

I watched him vanish into the garage, then turned to Owen and Beru, who looked several years older than they had before the meal started. "He seems...unhappy."

"I'm sorry you had to see that, Nakomi," Beru sighed, beginning to gather up the dishes. "He's been a little restless lately."

I saw no reason to point out that Luke struck me as more a caged animal that was about to go stir-crazy from captivity than "a little restless." There was certainly anger in him, no doubt about that. Maybe that was why I had felt the urge to defend myself from him when I saw his face for the first time? No, the Force had ceased to inform me of things like that long ago...

"You're around his age, go talk to him," Owen suggested. I stared at him as if he had just pulled out a lightsaber and challenged me to a duel.

"I'm twelve years older than—" I began, but he just waved me in the direction of the garage. As I gave up and walked towards it, I heard him and Beru talking in low voices.

"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. He has too much of his father in him."

A pause.

"That's what I'm afraid of."

*!*

I found Luke talking to C3P0 over near a damaged Skyhopper. Their conversation drifted over to me as I came up behind them.

"...faulty, malfunctioning," the droid was saying. "Kept babbling about his mission."

"You're kidding!" Luke exclaimed.

"What happened?" I asked, curious despite myself. He glanced at me.

"R2D2 ran off."

"Well, he can't have gotten far. We weren't inside for very long and he has small legs."

With C3P0 and I trailing behind, he dashed outside, frantically looking around for the tiny droid. A spectacular double sunset stained the sky, but I paid it no attention. It just got depressing after a certain number of evenings spent watching it from the roof of your flimsy hideout.

"How could I be so stupid?" Luke moaned. "He's nowhere in sight. Blast it!"

"Pardon me, sir, but couldn't we go after him?" C3P0 asked. The farm boy shook his head.

"It's too dangerous with all the Sandpeople around. We'll have to wait until—"

Suddenly, he turned to me, an excited look on his face. "Nakomi!"

"What?" I asked warily.

"You and Dima! The Sandpeople leave you alone. If you're with me, then—"

"It's mostly Dima—"

"Come on, we have to hurry. Uncle Owen's going to kill me as it is."

He grabbed my wrist and towed me over to the shed where the Larses kept their Landspeeder. I dug my heels into the cooling sand, but it didn't do any good.

"Gah! Let go of me!"

He ignored me, predictably.

"Luke, is Nakomi out there with you?" Owen called from the homestead.

"Yeah."

"Well, you two had better get inside. I'm shutting the power down for tonight."

"Sure, uncle, there's just one thing I have to take care of first..."

There were two Landspeeders in the shed, mine and his. Luke let go of me, allowing me to retrieve my helmet from the front seat of my vehicle. I glared at him.

"Do you have any idea how irre—"

"Considering what you were saying about the Empire at dinner, I wouldn't talk about responsibility if I were you," he interrupted, climbing into the back of the Landspeeder. "3P0, you probably have the best night vision out of the three of us. You can drive, and I'll tell you where to go."

Despite my misgivings, I got in next to him. It wasn't as if I could go running back to the homestead and tell his family that he was going after a runaway droid. And, honestly, I wanted R2 back, too. I wanted to know what he knew about Obi-Wan.

"Ready?" Luke asked me.

"No."

We flew across the darkening desert in search of answers.