It felt strange, eerie, being in this Tatooine homestead as the sandstorm raged outside. Everywhere he went he could hear the howl of wind and the battering of a million tiny sand particles against the homestead's surface.
It had clearly been through its share of storms. As he explored the place, Ben wondered again and again just how long it had been abandoned. Sand had crept into most places, usually forming a soft carpet across the floor and sometimes clinging to the walls and other crannies and nooks. Even disregarding the sand, every-thing in the place seemed a mess, like somebody had torn through it before abandoning the place. It couldn't have all come from damage from sandstorms, not in the lower tunnels that mostly escaped natural damage.
Again, it was hard to tell how long the place had been abandoned. They found glowrods, complete with batteries that helped them explore. The dry desert air was a remarkable preservative, and when Ben stumbled into the kitchen he found vegetables still in the cupboards, dried out to the point of being brittle white husks, but still intact.
He tried to get into the upper dome of the homestead. He had to climb up a stairwell coated in sand, at times dropping on all fours like he had when clambering blind up the Mos Eisley landing pad. Most of the upper room had been coated in sand as well, and Ben had to stuff a cloth over his mouth to keep from breathing in the dust he disturbed with every step. He went to the front entrance as quick as he could and slammed the door shut, sealing the room off from the sandstorm. As he scanned the room with his glowrod he found more signs of struggle: a pair of overturned chairs, a table still topped with dishes, and a bowl filled with some calcified liquid. His heart skipped a beat when his light shone on the walls: Blaster marks, almost a dozen of them, scored the white plaster. Cracks run across the walls. They'd probably first been made by the blaster-shots, after which they'd crept their way through the plaster as the years went by.
Ben went down the stairs slowly and carefully. This place was growing more haunting by the minute, and he wondered what could have happened to this homestead. Tuskens presented one obvious possibility, though they didn't seem the kind to spray a dining room with blasterfire. He would have also expected them to have scavenged the hangar more thoroughly, but apparently that hadn't been the case.
So who else, then? Ben supposed any kind of bandits could roam the desert, attacking helpless moisture farmers. It was yet another reminder of what a wild world this was, savage and far beyond civilization. His father often talked about Tatooine with a touch of nostalgia, like it was a quiet place where no big problems ever reached, a place a young man wanted to run from and an old man wanted to return to. But so far, Ben's trip to Tatooine had been anything but peaceful. He'd been shot at, crashed his ship, almost died in the desert more than once, and was now imprisoned in this homestead full of ghosts and the memory of anonymous violence.
He wandered through the tunnels again until he found his way back to the hangar. When he'd left, Tahiri had been here, investigating the equipment for anything useful, though after all these years Ben doubted there was much aside from half-drained batteries and clunky old glowrods. Now she was gone. Ben opened himself to the Force, just a little, and felt her elsewhere in the complex.
He sighed and sat down. A lot of equipment was strewn about on the floor: hyperspanners, batteries, manual ratchets, cans of dried-up oil. Everything you'd expect to find in a moisture farmer's garage. He sighed and inspected the XP-40, bending low to brush out some of the sand that had already nearly clogged its innards. He went over to the cockpit to see just how much dust had reached it, too, when he saw a datapad sitting in the pilot's seat.
He reached in and picked it up. Tahiri must have left it there, though why, he had no idea. He flicked the switch, wondering if the thing still worked after all this time. Its screen flickered once, twice, then shuddered off. Ben gave the thing a hard smack with his palm and it flickered the life again. The screen showed blue haze, like old two-dimensional screens usually did. He smacked it a second time and suddenly he had audio. Crackly, fuzzy audio, but audio nonetheless.
"...wouldn't believe... really miss... in for a..." The datapad buzzed. The screen was still a mess of static. "Anyway... really think... good luck, Luke..."
Luke?
That was impossible. It had to be. Ben smacked the datapad again and again. The audio suddenly conked out but the video came on. It was still fuzzy, but he could clearly make out faces. A young man, barely older than Ben, with a thin face and dark mustache leaned in front of the screen. He was talking enthusiastically and soundlessly. His eyes were bright. A few more heads hovered behind him, smiling, sometimes talking, either to the screen or eachother.
Suddenly the video winked out. The screen went blank except for the simple words: "Replay? Return?"
Ben thumbed the control switch on the datapad and selected the first option. Suddenly the video returned, this time with audio.
"Hey, Luke, how have you been?" The young man with the mustache said. There was nobody behind him. He seemed to be sitting in a dorm or barracks. Bunkbeds lined the wall behind him.
"Well, we're doing fine here on Rand Ecliptic. Still protecting and serving the galaxy, if you can believe that. It's a lot different from the Academy though. I mean, you expect service to be different than the Academy, but you're never really prepared for it."
The man tried to keep smiling, but Ben could see it waver. Someone tall and thin, hair cut short, came up behind the mustached man and said, "Hey Biggs, who're you talking to?"
Biggs! Biggs Darklighter, it had to be! Ben had heard about Biggs surely enough. Luke's old friend who had joined the Empire before defecting to the Rebellion. He and Luke had been reunited very briefly on Yavin 4, shortly before Biggs had died protecting Luke during the attack on the first Death Star.
Ben found his hands shaking. He was short of breath. He was not just holding history in his hands, he was holding something personal, and that was impossibly more important.
"Just leaving a message for a friend back home," Biggs said.
"Oooh, is it a pretty girl?" A third man said. "What was her name, Camie?"
"No, it's not her," Biggs sighed. "Sorry to disappoint, Klivian."
"Never hurts to ask," the third man said.
"Anyway," Biggs said to the screen, "We're all doing okay here. I know you feel like you missed out, not going to the Academy and everything, but, well, maybe it wasn't a bad choice. I never thought I'd miss that old dustball you're on, but once you get into the thick of things, well, the galaxy can be a pretty complicated place. You wouldn't believe it, but I really miss Anchorhead sometimes."
His face got serious as he said, "Listen Luke, we're in for a busy couple of weeks, so I don't know when I'll get a chance to send another message."
"Hey, keep it simple, Biggs," another man said
"Okay, okay," Biggs said. His tone was joking but his eyes were serious. "Anyway, I really think you should take some time, think about whether you really want to go to the Academy. Either way, I wish you good luck, Luke. I'm sure you'll make the right call."
There was a bit of static, then the video resumed. "Anyway, Luke, tell Fixer and Camie I miss them but all's well."
"Oooh, Caaamie," one of the men, Klivian, teased.
"Hey, cut it out!" Biggs laughed. The other men did too.
"What about your friend Luke?" another man asked. "Does he have a girl back home?"
"I don't know, do you, Luke?" Biggs asked the screen. "Well, I hope you do. I hope you settle down and... Well, no, I won't say that. I hope you do what you think's best. That's what we're gonna do, Luke. We're gonna do what we think's best."
"Hey, Darklighter..." a voice said, lightly warning.
"Right, right," Biggs waved a hand. "Just remember that. I did what I thought was best, and so should you. I'm not sure when I'll see you again Luke, but I'm sure I will someday. Until then, keep flying straight. Biggs out."
The video winked out. The screen came up again: "Replay? Return?"
Ben put the datapad down. His hands were shaking. His breathing was fast. He stumbled over to the closest bench and sat down on its dusty surface. He held his head in his hands and breathed in, breathed out, steadying himself against the assault of so many old ghosts. He was a Jedi, and he knew how to calm himself like a Jedi should.
Eventually, when his breath and head were stable, he picked up his head and looked at the datapad's blue screen, still shining dimly atop the landspeeder's hood. He walked across the room, picked it up, and switched it off.
Only then did he realize that the hail of sand no longer pounded on his door. Finally, it was silent.
-{}-
Tahiri sat at the base of an old moisture vaporator, watching the suns set.
One brilliant disc was slightly larger than the other as they both slid down toward the clear line of the horizon. The sandstorm was now just a haze in the southern distance, barely visible as the cloak of darkness fell gradually from the east. In the west, a corona of scarlet and gold hovered around the setting suns, turning the pale, blank desert landscape into a sea of deep red. Soon the suns would be gone, and sky and sand alike we plunge into utter blackness. And when the last light of day had faded, you would be able to look up and see a billion stars spangled on the night sky.
Tahiri had almost forgotten the beauty of Tatooine. Almost.
She remained seated as she heard the sound of footsteps. She waited until Ben sat down next to her to ask, "Pretty, isn't it?"
Ben said nothing. He sat with his butt in the sand, resting his elbows on his knees. He watched the desert shift colors and transform before his very eyes. Tahiri didn't press him. When the first sun started to slip beneath the horizon line, he finally said, "This was my father's home."
"I know."
"This sunset..." he said, and trailed off.
"I know."
"There's... signs of violence. All over. Dad said the stormtroopers came and killed Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru. That was when he decided to join Obi-Wan Kenobi, and go to Mos Eisley, and that was where he met Uncle Han, and then they flew to Alderaan and got captured by the Death Star and met Aunt Leia, and... and..."
He trailed off. The suns were setting fast. The first one was already half-eclipsed by darkening land.
"Everything started here," he said.
They watched the first sun slide into the horizon. The second one began to disappear as well. Tahiri said, "I found some old maps. They give us the heading to Anchorhead. Normally this isn't the place to go driving in the dark, but I think it'd be okay. We won't be going fast anyway, and we want to try and head her off before she can go to Mos Eisley."
Ben didn't respond. He kept staring ahead at the last glimmers of day.
"We shouldn't wait long," she said.
The rim of the second sun seemed to linger for a long time on the horizon before, finally, it slipped beneath the division line and disappeared. The suns' red glow lingered in the western sky, slowly turning to violent and then to black, while the sky grew deeper and deeper with stars.
"That was beautiful," Ben said. "Harsh. But beautiful."
"I know," Tahiri said. "But there's a whole big galaxy out there, and a lot of things we need to do."
"Yeah," said Ben, and sniffed back a tear. "You're right."
"Of course I am," said Tahiri. "I'm older and wiser than you."
She got to her feet and dusted off her bottom. She offered Ben a hand and helped the teenager to his feet. They lingered for a minute, wordlessly watching twilight fade, before they walked back to the home-stead.