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Everything you say to me Takes me one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break I need a little room to breathe Cos I'm one step closer to the edge And I'm about to break -One Step Closer, Linkin Park |
Luke hadn't been quite eight years old when he ran away from the Lars homestead. It had been six months since Beru Lars had died in a Tusken Raider attack, and not only was Luke stripped of the only source of comfort and love he had ever known, but Owen Lars had seemed to take out all his anger and sorrow at the loss of his wife on the boy.
Owen had never hesitated to use corporal punishment on Luke, but it had gotten worse after Beru's death. The beatings were longer, harder, no longer with Owen's hand but with his belt or even a stick, sometimes. And it seemed like Luke invited beatings with everything he did – not just his daydreaming, but with the way he did his work, the way he didn't do his work, the way he spoke to Owen…
There was no respite. Owen often forgot to cook meals for the boy, and he beat Luke if he saw the child trying to prepare his own meals or sneaking food, so Luke grew thinner and less able to withstand the beatings.
Miserable, half-starved, and in constant pain, Luke often wished he had perished with his aunt in the Raider attack.
One day, Luke had accidentally dropped a hydrospanner into the innards of the landspeeder Owen told him to fix. Owen never gave acknowledgement to Luke's impossible understanding of mechanics and engineering, when he fixed things beyond most seven-year-olds' abilities, but he was quick to notice when Luke messed his tasks up. His face nearly mottled with rage, he fetched a belt lying – unfortunately – close to hand, and gave Luke a beating.
This was the breaking point. Owen strode off, cursing under his breath and drinking from the flask of liquor that had become his too-frequent companion, leaving his nephew crying on the garage floor. He failed to detect the note of rage in between the sobs of pain.
Nightfall came, and Owen had not come to check up on Luke. This was good. The beating was mild, as Owen's beatings went, and with a bandage or two, Luke was up and moving with only a bit of a limp. He limped around the garage, filling a bag with various useful odds and ends. He snuck back to the house, tiptoed past the kitchen where Owen lay snoring and passed out on the table, and grabbed food, a few tunics, pants and his desert boots. He stuffed these into the bag, except for the boots – these he pulled onto his feet, packing the rubber-soled sports shoes he'd been wearing. Lastly, he crept down into the underground cistern. The door was locked with a digital scanner, but Luke easily cracked the nearly-ancient system. (Owen was not a big believer in getting the latest technology) He filled eight liquid-packs from the reservoir, all the while with one ear cocked to listen for Owen suddenly waking up and storming down to punish him for his water-thievery. The filling of the liquid-packs passed without incident, and he breathed a sigh of relief as he crept back up. Thus equipped, he set out.
He left the Lars farm at sunset. He had no compass, but something inside Luke told him which direction to head. He walked for the whole of the night, making use of the chill of the sunless period, and continued through the morning. When the twin suns were nearly at their peak, and the heat all but unbearable, Luke dug a hole in the sand and buried himself, staying in the relatively cooler underlayer of sand to wait out the hottest part of the day. He had learnt his lessons at survival school well.
He walked for three days and nights, resting only when he buried himself in sand to wait out the full rage of the twin suns. He husbanded his food and water well, drawing on a source of strength more potent than food or water to augment his child's body for the long journey.
Finally, just as Tatoo I began to rise on the fourth day, Luke arrived at Mos Eisley, largest – and most dangerous – city on Tatooine.
***
Later, Luke would know how lucky he was that the first person he met was Daich, and that the then-thirteen-year-old decided right away – practically on the spot – to take him under his wing. He even let him keep most of his stuff. Daich did take away some of his better clothing; it would make him too conspicuous a mark, he told him.
Luke found himself a member of the Riyus a day after arriving. Daich vouched for him so stoutly, and he was so eager to please, that none of the other gang members had any trouble accepting him.
He spent the first two weeks of his new life just following Daich and the others around, learning the rhythms and patterns of life on the Mos Eisley streets. Whenever Daich and the others had a 'job', Daich would hide the small boy somewhere close by, but not let him participate. He made Luke watch, though, and from the watching, learn.
Owen's behavior for the last six months had effectively beat out of Luke any squeamishness about seeing people inflict violence on others, and so he had little trouble watching the Riyus hold up other people for money. Or seeing them pickpocket, or engage in turf wars with other gangs.
Two weeks later, Daich began teaching Luke to fight. The small blond boy also began to carry his weight within the Riyus; he didn't go on 'jobs' with the older ones yet, but like the younger ones, he did things like stand guard, run errands and carry messages for the various crimelords and spacers of Mos Eisley.
A few months after Luke's arrival, Daich robbed an old Ithoran. The dark-haired boy fled with some credits and a pair of macrobinoculars. The macrobinoculars were so beat-up, though, that Daich thought they were trash.
Luke fixed them.
This was the first indication that Daich had that his new 'little brother' had certain…talents. From then on, he passed no opportunity to take pieces of machinery, broken-down and worse, to Luke. He had little problem fixing them up well enough to be used or sold for credits. Then someone had the bright notion of checking whether or not his talent extended to the software side. It did, though not so far. Luke could crack many of the digital security systems all over Mos Eisley, those protecting homes and vehicles, and the Riyus began their career of breaking-and-entering.
It was due to this that he gained the nickname Slicer. He was better with hardware, but there was more call for his software skills. The days flew by, happy and hot and exciting, filled with close shaves with the law and disgruntled victims, more lessons on surviving, chances to play with fascinating bits of machinery and programming. His life before the Riyus began to assume the aspect of a dream…a bad dream.