THE NEXT DAY

Owen Lars and Luke Skywalker were walking through the streets of Anchorhead. The annoying little R4 droid rolled along pitifully behind them. Its attitude had changed considerably since it knew that Owen was going to try to sell it back to that horrible garbage dealer, Velpa.

They approached Velpa's shop. Owen said, as he always did, "Let ME do the talking."

Always the same, Luke thought through a clenched jaw. Things never change with him. Ever. They went inside…

One hour and one very heated argument later, Owen walked back out of the shop with three-fourths of the credits he had spent buying the piece of junk. The poor droid squealed and beeped for its ex-master to come back and save it, only to be silenced by Velpa with a restraining bolt. Luke wasn't with Owen when he had originally purchased the droid, but was now even less sure of why he bought it in the first place. Velpa's shop was full of scrap, and judging by the fact that the R4 unit was the only WORKING astromech droid in the place, Luke surmised that Velpa pieced it together hastily from spare parts to sell it.

Owen cursed as they walked out of the shop. Luke learned to remain silent and calm around his Uncle at times like this, only speaking when spoken to.

They walked the streets for a few more minutes when Owen noticed another shop, owned by a Toydarian. He told Luke to wait outside in the speeder. "I don't trust this guy, his family has a bad reputation", were his last words before going in.

Pulling a cloak over himself as protection from the twin suns (which were reaching their blistering peak), Luke sat back down in the speeder and waited. Compared to the boring life of moisture farming, a day trip to Anchorhead was always a treat for him. He began to assess his surroundings.

Structures of heated and hardened sand filled the streets, most of them filled with shops. All of them were thriving with buyers and traders.

Yeah, buyers and traders of garbage, he thought. Anchorhead was a vast flea market, primarily full of locals. It was still nowhere near the size or caliber of Mos Eisely or Mos Espa.

Nearby, Luke noticed a sign written in BASIC that read:

"Imperial Academy: Human Applicants Over The Age of 18 Welcome"

Luke's mind went straight into the clouds.

The Imperial Academy. How wonderful it must be to be a star pilot. Seeing different worlds, expanding your horizons, encountering countless races and planets with new technologies, the possibilities are so-

"Well, young lad, it's been a long time," said a familiar voice from behind him, interrupting his train of thought.

Luke turned around in the cockpit seat and removed the cloak from his head.

"Ben? Is that you? I'm sorry, my mind was...elsewhere."

The old man was standing by the speeder, in the same cloak and robe Luke remembered him wearing when he last saw him. He was nine at the time...the time Uncle Owen had run him off in a fit of --

Uncle Owen! Luke began to feel the panic welling up in his throat, but remained outwardly composed.

"Ben, it's really great to see you!" said Luke, shaking the old man's hand. "Hang on a second, ok?" Ben nodded politely with a wave of his free hand, as if he already knew what Luke was up to.

Luke walked briskly to the end of the street and peered into Watto's shop. Uncle Owen was still talking with a flying blue creature, hovering above different astromech droids, rambling about different prices in Huttese. Good.

"Sorry", Luke stated as he returned. "I'm with Uncle Owe-"

"Yes, I know," Ben said, plainly. This didn't surprise Luke at all. Ben's perception was beyond that of any human being he'd ever met.

"We're trying to find a new astromech droid. Uncle Owen won't spend any real money for a newer one in good condition. But, you know the junk they peddle around here."

"Actually, you'll find the Jawas have much better deals, IF you know how to bargain with them," Ben offered, but Luke cut him off...

"Yeah, I know. I keep trying to tell Uncle Owen that! The Darklighters have had very few problems with the droids they've bought from the Jawas, but he won't listen to me!"

"Well, my young friend", Ben started, invoking a word Luke would hear from him for years to come, "you might find that patience is one of the greatest virtues we have. May I offer a suggestion?" He asked.

"Sure!" Luke always welcomed hearing any words of wisdom from Ben.

The old man grinned at him.

"Don't suggest it to him anymore," Ben said, as he glanced further down the street towards the Toydarian shop, his eyes narrowing. "Your uncle is a hard man to convince. Sometimes in life, people have to learn these things on their own. The harder you try to push them, the further they pull away from your…suggestions."

"I thought if I kept hammering away at him like he does at me, then I'd get somewhere", Luke said jokingly, laughing in spite of himself.

The mysterious hermit managed a slight smile. Never once had Luke remembered him laughing, but his smile always told Luke he understood what the boy was trying to say. "Keep those happy thoughts inside yourself, Luke. They do you credit."

Ben then changed the subject. "That was quite a sandstorm we had last night."

"Yes, it was", Luke said, realizing now that Ben was just chewing the Bantha fat until Uncle Owen would emerge from the shop -- at which time Ben would have to disappear.

"Sandstorms of that magnitude don't come around very often. My hut out past Dune Sea was almost torn down."

He was looking at Luke with an utter seriousness that caught the boy off-guard. "Sometimes the storms shift the sand so violently, they uncover things. For example, a sandstorm of similar power uncovered the archeological dig that they found out by Mos Espa a few years ago. I wonder if the last storm uncovered anything else this time."

This fascinated Luke. Archeological dig? Just as he was about to ask Ben about it, his mind suddenly went blank...

"Luke--Luke!!" Owen screamed in his face. "Are you listening to me? What's come over you?"

"Huh?" Luke said. Then, he realized what had happened – it was the same thing that happened every time Ben appeared. Luke's mind went blank, and when Luke had 'recovered' – the old man had disappeared.

Luke came up with the same excuse. "I'm sorry, Uncle Owen. I must have fallen asleep."

Uncle Owen looked at him very quizzically for a long moment, and then got into the speeder. "Let's go home," he said. "We're not getting anywhere here, all these junk dealers want to do is rip us off."

Remembering Ben's advice, Luke simply said, "Well, I guess we'll keep looking until we find one. Whatever you decide, I'll help you find one as hard as I can."

Owen looked at his nephew almost in shock that he didn't fight back nor disagree with him.

The speeder picked up momentum as they exited Anchorhead and returned home.