Two Lukes

During ANH

Luke Skywalker sat down on the lumpy mattress, exhausted and slightly embarrassed that Solo had baited him with such little effort. "A princess and a guy like me?" What about a guy like... a moisture farmer? Was that any more unlikely? Probably not.

So much had happened in his life in the past few days he could barely keep track. So many losses. His aunt and uncle... the only family he knew had been killed by the Empire. Now, minutes after the jump into hyperspace, Luke could afford the chance to think about his most recent loss, Obi-Wan Kenobi. He'd hardly had time to know the old Jedi, yet his death had struck him deeply. To think, only a few short days earlier, he'd been complaining about how boring his life was to his friends at Anchorhead. If they could only see him now, now that he was... what? Luke held up the silver hilt of his father's lightsaber. What am I? he wondered. A Jedi? A Rebel? Or just a moisture farmer with delusions of grandeur?

He listened down the corridor as Chewbacca bellowed something incomprehensible. A second later the smuggler stuck his head in the room.

"Ya want something to eat, kid?"

Food? That was the last thing on Luke's mind. "No, thank you."

Solo shrugged, and turned to leave. Then turned back to face him. "You don't have to join them, kid. The Rebellion's gonna fail, anyway. You'll just be throwin' your life away."

"I've already lost everything. What's my life?"

"That's all any of us have," the Corellian argued. "You can join me an' Chewie. Smuggling ain't safe, but it'll be a hell of a lot safer than tryin' to shoot down the Death Star." When Luke remained silent, Han added, "You think about it." Then he was gone.

Luke eased himself down on his back, staring at the grease and soot streaked walls of the old freighter. He shut his eyes, picturing himself flying around the galaxy, smuggling spice or alcohol or gemstones or whatever else these cargo holds held over the years. He could visit distant worlds... see the galaxy from one side to the other. Meet hundreds of exotic women.

Maybe Solo was right, and the Rebellion was just a waste of lives, a noble effort doomed to fail. Would it really matter down the long road of time? Governments would always fall. The faces of politicians would be different, only the rules altered. And the lives of people like Luke Skywalker, moisture farmer, would always be difficult, no matter who was in charge.

"Maybe I'd make a good smuggler," Luke mused aloud.

A soft laugh startled him, and he sat up quickly, opening his eyes and looking at the face of someone he'd never seen before. The man was almost as old as Obi-Wan had been. At least Luke thought so, since everyone over thirty looked ancient to him, anyway. This man was dressed in brown Jedi robes. Somehow those eyes were familiar. Blue and intense.

"How... how did you get here?"

"The Force," the man replied, looking around the room. "This ship seems to be trapped in time - it always looks exactly the same."

"Who are you?"

The older man smiled. "I'm you, in about thirty years."

Luke scrambled to his feet. "That's not possible."

"You'll find many things you think are impossible, in fact, are quite possible. If you search your feelings, you will know I'm telling you the truth."

"So, tell me," the younger man challenged nervously. "If you're me, why are you here?"

"To convince you to stay on your path," the man answered. "I remember how tempted I was to take Han up on his offer right after Ben died. Run away from the Rebellion, from responsibility, from what was almost a sure death. But I didn't, and you won't, either."

"No... I guess not," Luke agreed, slowly coming back to his senses and realizing his destiny was with the Rebellion. But if this old man was telling the truth, then he had survived the Death Star, and much more. "Can you tell me about my future?" young Luke asked eagerly.

The older Luke smiled. "What would you like to know?"

"The Princess," he questioned. "Do I stand a chance with her?" He could tell the question made his older version uncomfortable.

"Your destinies are intertwined," the man answered vaguely.

"Come on... tell me," Luke begged. "Do I marry her?"

"No."

"Oh." His face fell. Of course... Leia was a princess. She'd end up married to a handsome, rich prince after the war.

"No, she doesn't marry a rich prince," his older version replied as if he'd spoken aloud.

"How did you know what I was thinking?" he questioned, astounded.

The older Luke smiled. "I'm you. I know what I was thinking because I remember."

"She survives the war, right?" Luke asked worriedly.

"Leia survives this war, and the wars that follow."

"Wars that follow?"

The older man shook his head sadly. "It seems to be an endless theme, from the beginning of time. Sometimes I have my doubts we will ever break the cycle of hate and fighting."

"Then what's the point?"

"The point is to strive to make ourselves better, and hope someday in the future things will get better."

"But they obviously don't," the younger Luke pointed out. "Maybe Han is right about looking out for number one."

That comment made the older man laugh. "Han liked to play the mercenary-cynic, didn't he?"

"So you're saying he's not?"

"He's a good friend."

Luke thought about that, then concluded, "He stays, right?"

"Your destinies are intertwined."

"You like that sentence, don't you?"

"You will face many hardships and challenges," the older man said. "Just never give up, because the reward is worth the effort."

"Reward? You mean money? The end of the Empire?"

The older man turned and waved, and an image of a woman with red hair appeared, holding the hand of a young boy about seven or eight years old. "No." He shook his head. "I mean love and family." And with those words, the Jedi and the woman and child faded away.

"Luke?" The voice was soft and insistent. "Luke... wake up."

He opened his eyes, looking up in surprise at the beautiful Princess Organa. "I'm awake," he said, unable to keep himself from blushing. Why had he been dreaming about a redheaded woman? Leia had dark brown hair, so he should have been dreaming about her.

"Captain Solo says we're going to be coming out of hyperspace in a few minutes," she informed him, then added in annoyance. "That loud-mouthed smuggler is so full of himself. I'd like to grab a blaster and shoot him."

Luke watched his dream Princess stalk off and the thought drifted into his mind, But you won't shoot him... because you're going to marry him. Shocked, Luke sat up, running his fingers through his blond hair. "Where did that stupid idea come from?"

He struggled to his feet, feeling disoriented as the image of the redhead faded away.

Then he headed toward the cockpit, and his destiny.

THE END

See? I can be nice to Luke!