Wow, I'm touched. I must say I didn't expect to get such wonderful reviews. Thank you to Maren, Fudge, and Princess-Kinky.
Here's another chapter. I hope I'll keep exciting you, Maren.
Owen and Luke had finished their errands, the elder of the two allowing his charge to bargain for him once or twice. Luke's eyes shone with the compliments one of the stallkeepers had given him on his newfound bartering skills, though Owen knew he could have bought the slab of meat for five credits less. But the sooner the boy learned, the better, he supposed.
Owen slung their purchases into the speeder and lifted Luke into the passenger seat. "We're late as it is. Aunt Beru will be worried."
Luke stared out into the distant Dune Sea. "Uncle Owen? Look out there."
Owen squinted into the desert. "I don't see anything, Luke. It's just your imagination."
"But there's a dark line out there. It could be—"
"Those are the low mountain ranges, far out there. You can see them clearly on some days." Owen started up the speeder.
"I don't think we should go yet," Luke protested.
Owen looked at him. "Why not?"
"It…it doesn't feel right," said Luke with an air of finality.
Owen sighed. "Luke, you can't always trust plain old feelings. People have gotten killed that way."
***
The moisture farmer regretted those words at the onslaught of the storm.
The huge clouds of frenzied particles of airborne sand began to eddy around them as Owen fixed the last scrap of cloth around the boy, covering every last visible bit of skin.
Luke peered out at his uncle through a pair of plasteel goggles as Owen adjusted his own. They crouched in the cockpit of the speeder beside a gargantuan cliff, their bought goods protected at their feet.
The wind began howling and ripping at them with sandblasting fingers as the cliff created an enormous amount of turbulence, though Owen knew it would be far worse out on the open plains just overhead.
Luke closed his eyes, his mind nearly overcome by fear, and his thoughts jumped at random to the man he had seen in the market that morning. He wondered where Ben was, and if he was in a like situation.
***
Obi-Wan sat in his small adobe, having tightened down the last loose end and awaiting the cessation of the violent storm.
Luke. He's caught outside. Anxiety seized Obi-Wan, pulling him out of his hazed grief; he pushed the worry away and, tightening his mental shields, reached out to Luke through the confusion of the storm with thoughts of comfort.
***
Luke relaxed, huddled in the smothering cloth with only a small filtered breathing tube, somehow knowing it was going to be all right. He stretched out his small hand and patted the back of his hunched-over uncle, trying to pass on some of the solace he was experiencing.
Owen looked up at him in some surprise.
"We're gonna be okay," yelled Luke over the howling winds.
***
Beru watched the storm anxiously, hoping Owen and Luke had stayed in Mos Eisley until the swirling mass of sand had blown over. It was already beginning to recede at the farm, the wind's shrieking growing quieter.
The door buzzer rang. Puzzled, she ran to answer it, wondering who else but Owen would be coming by at a time like this.
She slid the door open; a cloaked figure stumbled in. She quickly closed the door to keep the wind out and turned to face him as he threw his hood back.
Beru's eyes widened in apprehension as Ben's azure gaze met hers. "What…has anything happened?"
"It's all right," he reassured her. "I was wanting to check, to see if they had gotten home yet."
"Why?" she managed. "Do you know where they are?"
"They're out in the storm, but they're all right," he said gently. "It's just beginning to quiet, where they are."
She looked outside, then back at him. "If you know where they are now, why couldn't you before?"
He furrowed his brow. "There's a general sense of confusion that comes with storms like these that hazes my senses over; I couldn't tell where Luke was exactly for a while. But now that it's beginning to die down…they're about fifteen kilometers from here."
She blinked back a forming tear. Ridiculous. It's just a storm, and they're all right; he said so… "Thank you for coming; I did want to know. Can I get you a drink, or supper perhaps?"
A slight smile played upon his lips. "A drink would be fine, thank you."
She invited him to follow her to the kitchen and poured him and herself a glass of water. The two busied themselves with small talk, Beru relating Luke's academic prowess, her maternal pride earning a wide smile from Ben. He commented on how the farm seemed to be holding up, and she added how well the season was going, despite occasional intrusions by Imperial troops. But then, that was routine around here.
Ben emptied his glass and set it down on the counter. "Beru, I came for another reason as well. I thought I would relay to you the message I received from Alderaan not too long ago."
The light in Beru's eyes faded as she watched Ben's expression grow bleak. "What is it?"
"Luke's mother was killed in an assault in mid-transit."
Beru's heart sank. "Padmé's dead?"
"Yes. And I don't believe the Empire is faultless." He paused. "You will keep this from Luke, won't you? He's still far too young to take in his family history."
"Of course. We haven't revealed anything like that yet."
He nodded, and furrowed his brow, then looked back up to her. "They've just arrived. Thank you for the drink; I'll be on my way."
She hesitated. "Do you want to take the back way? I don't have anything against you, but Owen might be upset…and I don't want Luke to see that more often than he needs to."
Ben nodded understandingly. "Of course. I don't wish to interfere."
Beru sighed. "If I had my way, you'd be welcome here, but you've seen how Owen is. Come this way."
Unfortunately, Beru had failed to remember that Owen never used the front entrance when coming in with supplies. The utilitarian back door suited those purposes far better. So as Ben shrugged on his robe and bid Beru farewell, the door slid open.
Owen nearly dropped the crate he was carrying, along with his jaw. "You…"
Luke peered around his uncle and his eyes rounded in delight.
Ben grimly bowed to the whole family. "If you will excuse me."
Owen stepped back as the Jedi passed by, not seeing the quick smile Ben exchanged with Luke. Once the Master had gone, Owen set the crate down and rounded on Beru. "What was he doing here?"
"He merely came to see if you and Luke had returned safely," she reprimanded him quietly. "He was looking out for you and Luke, Owen, and going out of his way to do it, too."
Luke clung to Owen's leg. "I like him. I think he's nice."
Beru smiled affectionately at Luke and took his hand. "Luke, dear, there's something I need to talk with your uncle about in private, all right?"
The boy nodded and ran off to his room.
Beru faced her husband again. "Owen, she's dead."
He looked taken aback. "What? Who's dead?"
"Padmé was killed recently. Ben said it was an assault on her transport."
Owen's eyes flashed. "And how does he know? Did he feel it? Did he just know?"
"He received a message from Alderaan. Owen—" She broke off as a single tear coursed down her tanned cheek. "She's dead. Does that mean nothing to you?"
His look softened. "Of course it does. You know that. It's just—"
She cut him off angrily. "Would you ever listen to anything he says? He's a very wise man, almost always right, you know."
"What bothers me is that if he told Luke it was going to rain tomorrow, the boy would believe him. Beru, he's dangerous. I don't want Luke getting involved in these things. His life's already at risk as it is."
"But it's not worth it," she stated firmly, "if you don't allow him to live a little."
"Beru…" Owen tried, but she turned away and walked off to the kitchen.
***
"Easy now," Shena Hinn grated as Vendetta's Companion slowly sidled up to the captured vessel. The boarding umbilical stretched out, closing over the defenseless ship's hatch.
The pirates cheered, lining up to board, young Kadeq among them. Now fourteen, the captain's son toted an excessively illegal blaster rifle, with which he was a dead shot.
The hatch was blown open, and some of the pirates poured in with their captain, not bothering to wait for the smoke to recede.
Kadeq, with the ones that stayed behind, tensed when he heard screams coming from the passage, and a strange electronic throbbing hum. "Something's wrong," he muttered.
Ignoring him, the rest ran to join the crew, expecting rich plunder, from the size of the vessel.
Kadeq, now alone, watched in horror as Narha, his father's Whiphid bodyguard, fell dead from the clearing cloud of smoke. A blood-red light illuminated the haze. His heart beating wildly, he backed off as a loud wheezing emanated from the darkened passage, and he heard his father's cut-off cry.
"Dad," he whispered, and hid around the corner, shaking with fear. Something had gone horribly wrong.
Footsteps beat the floor, as loud in his ears as his pulsing heart. He cringed, his lekku twitching.
An eternity of nothing but the harsh breathing filled his ears. He closed his eyes.
A deep mechanical voice filled the air as the footsteps stopped just short of the corner. "I've been looking for you."
For me? thought Kadeq, wondering why in all the nine hells of Kessel—
"Yes, you," the chilling voice said, to Kadeq's horror. "Do you know why?"
Kadeq's memory led him to a day, five years ago, when he had read the message that a hitchhiker had given him.
Kadeq. This is very important, so I want you to read carefully, and keep this message secret. Remember when we looked at someone and could tell whether they were hungry or not? Very few sentients have that sort of ability…
He wondered if the man around the corner was one of those sentients.
I want you to keep it secret from now on, from everyone who doesn't know about it so far…You will understand why, someday, Kadeq.
Yes, I understand now, thought Kadeq, fervently wishing Orlan were here. He wants me because of what I have. But what do I have?
Was it in the message? He tried to remember.
Goodbye, and may the Force be with you.
The Force. The thing he had heard about in the holodocumentary about Jedi.
"Yes," rumbled the voice. "You understand. Now come out; you have nothing to fear."
Kadeq swallowed hard, and steeled himself to step out.
He instantly recognized the tall black masked figure from the holoprojector.
Darth Vader. Here. And he wants me.
"You killed my father," Kadeq hissed, momentarily forgetting his fragile position.
"Come with me," Vader said. "I will teach you about these feelings you learned."
Kadeq eyed him warily. "Why should I? To kill people? To destroy families? I'd never do that."
"A pirate with a conscience, now?" Vader taunted. "Perhaps I should kill you like I killed your father."
Kadeq raised his rifle and fired. And watched in shock as the bolt deflected off Vader's outstretched hand, pitting the wall. He poured out more fire, watching in disbelief as the same thing happened.
Vader finally flicked his fingers, tearing the rifle out of Kadeq's grasp. "You have much to learn."
In a rage, flinging aside his fear, Kadeq charged at Vader, coming so close to pounding out his anger on the Sith lord's chest panel when an invisible hand smashed against his face and moved down to his throat.
"Unfortunately," said Vader, dispassionately watching the young Twi'lek kick frantically, trying to pry the fatal grip from his neck, "this is your last lesson."
With a shudder, Kadeq went limp.
Vader tossed the rifle aside and strode back into his ship.
***
Bare minutes later, the previously captive vessel pulled away, hidden weapons bristling from the hull and marking a weak point on Vendetta's Companion.
Pricks of light pinpointed the nuclear reactor; the Companion lit up in a brief flash, and all there was remaining were atoms scattered into space to mark an atrocity.
***
He was out for a walk. The twin suns were setting in an orange glow when the distant disturbance washed over him, uprooting a memory.
Kadeq?
Obi-Wan stopped his steady pace and stared out into the sky. Vader had found him, and now the young Twi'lek was gone.
Lives were disappearing with each passing day. His heart heavy, he kept on, his home less than a kilometer away now.
Something sounding like a cut-off gurgle came from behind a dune. He paused, reaching out carefully and listening.
A life-form of some sort lay on the other side of the mound of sand. Obi-Wan looked over the wind-sharpened edge of the dune carefully, and his eyes widened.
A Jawa lay on the sand, one of its arms terminating in a fresh-looking stump. It emitted another high-pitched groan, and froze when it heard Obi-Wan coming around the dune.
Sharp glowing eyes shone out of the hood, widened with pain, peering suspiciously at him as he approached. Well, this is one life I have the ability to save, if he'll let me.
He spread out his hands. "Easy. I'm not going to hurt you. Do you want help?"
The Jawa paused, then rattled off a response.
Obi-Wan had looked into the language a bit in the markets, finding at least a basic knowledge of the tongue necessary for bartering. From what he had gathered now, the Jawa was male, and indeed in need of aid, though reluctant to admit it. "My home isn't far off, and I have a med kit."
After another dubious glare, the Jawa consented and attempted to haul himself up. Obi-Wan gave him a subtle boost with the Force. Surprised at his new-found strength, the Jawa held his arm close to his side and began to walk, then collapsed in the sand.
Obi-Wan noticed blood seeping from numerous wounds, and scooped the diminutive creature up in his arms.
The Jawa chattered insistently, but Obi-Wan didn't let him down until they reached the Master's residence.
Laying the Jawa down on his bedding, he nearly called the medkit to him using telekinesis, but realized word would spread fast. So he dragged a stool over and took it off the high shelf with his hands.
"Painkiller?" he asked, holding up a syringe, which also had some sedative in it.
The Jawa held out his uninjured arm half-reluctantly, reeling out a long stream of complaints that ended with his name, Korhi. He paused, then asked. "Ukig nan-nochuk?"
"Call me Ben," Obi-Wan replied, laying out some universal synthflesh. "This won't look like your skin, but it'll have to do for now."
Korhi asked him what he wanted in payment.
Obi-Wan smiled and shook his head. "I don't want anything. Just keep me and this place a secret, is all."
Korhi blinked, puzzled, and said he had some power cells.
"I told you, I don't need anything except for your silence." He finished dressing the stump and watched the Jawa fall asleep.
***
It was a good two hours before he heard Korhi begin chattering away again, complaining about the anesthetic while he hauled himself off the bed, though Obi-Wan thought he probably would have fallen asleep anyway. "Do you know where your sandcrawler is?"
Korhi responded with an affirmative.
"I'm sorry; I don't have a speeder, but I can give you some supplies for on the way. Do you have a weapon?"
The Jawa's hand pushed aside the hem of his cloak, revealing what to humans would be a small hold-out blaster, but powerful nevertheless.
Obi-Wan nodded and handed Korhi a waterbottle. "Take it, and farewell."
Korhi jabbered on as he walked out the door, still complaining about the sedative and wondering why this brain-dead human would refuse such a good offer; after all, he did have three power cells that could keep the largest droid on the market going for at least a year without a recharge…
Obi-Wan shook his head as he watched the Jawa meander off into the distance. There was just no pleasing some sentients.
***
He watched time flow by, occasionally marveling at the speed it tirelessly traveled. Luke grew older. He grew older. It had been another five years; Luke would soon be eleven years old, and Obi-Wan forty-eight.
A decade, he thought, is a long time, no matter how mercifully quickly it's passed.
And the last decade of his life had consisted largely of routine. He would always get up at dawn, eat a meager breakfast as he wasn't very hungry anymore in the morning, and head outside for a walk that would only take him back home some three hours later. These walks had usually been uneventful like everything else, except for the Jawa he had found five years ago.
Usually. But not today.
He felt something—no, someone—walking about the dunes like him. But he could feel the man's grim determination even from just a brief touch. The mind was unfamiliar, yet somehow he thought he had touched it before, a long time ago…
He looked over cautiously as the dune that separated them sloped down.
The back of a helmet of some sort moved away under the sunlight. A green helmet.
Green? he wondered.
The helmet turned to a profile.
A Mandalorian helmet.
Suddenly he knew and ducked down behind the dune. No doubt the son had kept his father's equipment. Hopefully the growing heat would throw off any infrared sensors that the bounty hunter had under his impenetrable mask.
Just visually impenetrable, Obi-Wan reminded himself, and reached out hesitantly, trying to find who Boba Fett's prey was this time.
Relief flooded through him. Not me. Though if it was, it would be Darth Vader hunting, not Boba Fett. Still, it often paid to be careful. And it was good that Fett was oblivious to his presence on Tatooine, not to mention Obi-Wan's present close proximity. No doubt Boba Fett would forget all about his current hunt at the prospect of earning all the funds he would need for retirement. Bringing down a Jedi for the Empire was one thing, but Darth Vader would especially love to see his former Master broken on the floor.
I have to keep alive for Luke. That is something Vader will never see, vowed Obi-Wan, and silently slunk away from the prowling bounty hunter.
He, of course, had not sensed the small droid that he suddenly tripped over, sending him down to an inglorious landing on the sand.
He grunted and looked at the little domed, multi-wheeled droid. It chittered away at him, then said in quiet but well-rendered Basic, "What are you trying to do? He's looking for me! For me!"
Obi-Wan sighed and rolled over, bringing up his cowl to hide his features before the droid could get a look at them. "Who's looking for you?" A question that really didn't need an answer, he knew.
"The bounty hunter. Surely you saw him. Surely you did." Agitated, the droid wheeled back and forth.
"And why would he be looking for a diminutive droid such as yourself?" asked Obi-Wan curiously.
"Why should I tell you that? Why?" snapped the droid.
Obi-Wan resisted a sigh of exasperation. "Who do you belong to, then?"
"Jabba the Hutt. He is most displeased. Most displeased," the droid repeated. "My processing drives malfunctioned at a most unfortunate time. Most unfortunate. My calculations went awry, and now he blames me for his debt. He blames me!"
"And just what am I supposed to do about that?" Obi-Wan asked calmly, amused despite the imminent bounty hunter.
"Hide me! Hide me!"
"I have a mind to bring you back to Jabba," said Obi-Wan seriously. "It sounds like you are in need of repair."
"Repair isn't the half of it! Not the half of it!"
Obi-Wan did sigh this time, picked the palm-sized droid off the ground, and deactivated it. Some peace and quiet. Not that I haven't been getting enough.
Still open, he sensed a now far away Fett's attention spike. Oh, no. He was likely alerted to the droid's deactivation. And if I reactivate it, he'll have a second signal to work on. He scattered the sand where he had made his fall, smoothing the ground again using the Force. Thinking he could use it for parts, and not wanting Jabba to scan its memory and find a way to identify him, Obi-Wan slipped the droid into his robe pocket and stealthily glided away, weaving around dunes and keeping low to the already burning ground, his robe dragging on the sand behind him. Using his greatest concentration, which was needed to both levitate and shield his use of the Force, he picked himself up and began to levitate bare centimeters off the ground, following his tracks coming there and erasing them as he progressed.
***
Boba Fett scanned the area for the signal, but produced nothing. He pushed away the slightest inkling of frustration, knowing it would impair his sharpness, and came to the spot where the signal had originated.
Nothing. The twenty-three year old tracker mentally emitted a curse and looked around, hoping to see something, anything.
Then he spotted it. Anyone with less experience might have missed the ever-so-faint trail, but it was there for him to see. He looked it over. The tiny droid's tracks had ended there, and the odd spread-out trail began. Almost as if someone had been hovering, dragging something wide and loose behind.
Checking for signs of life periodically, carefully, Fett followed the trail, losing it at times, and regaining it, once by sheer chance.
Then he lost it completely. Whatever had been dragging on the sand had lifted up, making a raised line of sand at the very end. Almost as if they had been dragging a wide broom behind them.
He glanced up and around. Shimmering waves of heat rose from the dunes, making it difficult to concentrate on the writhing horizon. He turned back, deciding the capture of the droid hadn't been worth that much anyway. His spare time was worth more than this.
***
Sweating heavily from the effort, Obi-Wan dropped to the ground panting, knowing he had finally lost the bounty hunter.
Fool, he thought, grimacing. You careless fool, for turning off the droid. You should have known.
I'm getting old. I can feel it, past the heat.
Close to complete exhaustion, he dragged himself up to a standing position, swaying slightly, and made his way up the winding path to his home.
To collapse in the doorway.
***
It was taking shape. All according to his orders.
What a thrill it was, to give orders instead of always taking them. Always a slave to his Master's whim. Now, though he still had a master, he had control. Enough control to make his own Super Star Destroyer. A full eight kilometers long, the already forbidding skeleton was being patched over with metal plating and filled in. He had already decided: he was going to call her the Executor. A name with a pleasantly double meaning, befitting for the personal ship of Darth Vader.
Darth Vader, lord of the Sith. A name that implied control. A control that was so close to absolute. He was the chosen one. Hundreds of billions of lives, under his foot. He would have the power that had awaited him for so long.
And his master had told him there was something at an even grander scale on its way.
***
First he was aware of his heart pounding relentlessly, echoing in his throbbing head. And his breath, coming in and out raggedly.
And his tongue, parched and swollen against the roof of his mouth. He knew he was badly dehydrated, and if he didn't get some water soon…
He struggled to push himself up, but his arms gave way. His eyes fluttering open, Obi-Wan groggily scanned the room.
A waterbottle stood invitingly on the counter. Tauntingly. Knowing there really was no other way, he reached out, crooking his fingers, grasping the flask with his extended self.
Then as pain blossomed inside his head, his focus evaporated and the bottle toppled onto the floor, thankfully still closed. Grinding his teeth, he tried to ignore his agonized skull and reached out again.
The bottle mercifully came, bumping along the floor and coming to a rest under his outstretched hand. He grasped it and pulled at the stopper with his teeth. It came loose and he drank gratefully. Shifting onto his side, he discovered something hard and lumpy between him and the floor.
The droid. He hoped he hadn't accidentally activated it. Fumbling with his robe, he withdrew the little robot with shaky hands and put it down on the floor inside his house, then picked himself up, grunting, still holding the almost-emptied waterbottle.
The small lump of metal didn't move or speak.
He sighed and staggered over to his bed, swiping another waterbottle off the counter on his way and finishing off the first.
His vision swimming, Obi-Wan relaxed and stretched himself out, and threw the empty waterbottle at the door's control panel with some help from the Force. It slid shut, as did his eyes.