Chapter 9 – Call to Duty
"We're doomed," Threepio moaned forlornly as he continued to plod along through the shifting sand. "No one will ever find us here. Thanks to you we'll soon be nothing more than sandlogged scrap for some scavenger to trip over. I tell you we would have been better off taking our chances with the Imperials."
Artoo didn't understand why Threepio continued to complain and insult him. All things considered he thought he'd done remarkably well maneuvering the little escape pod. He was even relatively certain they had landed within a reasonable distance of the target coordinates Princess Leia had given him. Of course, the only mode of transportation currently available to them was their own locomotion, and Threepio seemed to be moving slower with each of his steps.
"I must rest. My joints are almost frozen," Threepio whined with exaggerated exhaustion.
Artoo stopped with his companion and gave him an assessing scan. They had been traversing the inhospitable terrain of this desert planet for nearly a day now. Threepio's design was more susceptible to dust contamination and thermal overloads than was his own, and there was no doubt that some of his complaints were valid. Threepio would fail before him.
"I know what you're thinking, you stunted barrel of junk. You were made for menial tasks and built to withstand these harsh environments, but I was never intended to be subjected such abuse. I should be coordinating diplomatic meetings for galactic dignitaries, not stuck with some overgrown tool kit on…"
Artoo cut him off with an impatient electronic blat and then launched into yet another explanation of why it was so important for them to keep moving.
Threepio had heard quite enough of it already and waved a stiffened arm insultingly at Artoo. "I'm tired of hearing about this mission you keep blathering on about. If it's so important then just leave me here. It's the height of the afternoon. I'm not going any further in this heat."
Artoo hesitated for a moment. He did not need the other droid to complete his mission, but he was still loath to abandon him here. He was considering one more attempt at persuading Threepio to continue, when the other droid took offense at his obvious consideration of the offer.
"Go on you insensitive lug. I don't need you," Threepio scoffed and turned his back on him.
Artoo blew a raspberry back at Threepio and was turning to leave when his long-range scanner picked up an approaching vehicle. He studied it for a moment to confirm it was heading on a near intercept coarse with them then started whistling excitedly to his companion.
"Oh, what is it now?" Threepio started, immensely annoyed until his processor registered what the little droid was trying to tell him. "A transport?!" he asked excitedly now. "Where?"
Artoo didn't need to reply for now a landspeeder was just visible coming over the horizon. New hope for salvation sprang forth in Threepio's circuits. He began jumping and waving excitedly at the driver, not caring at this moment who or what that driver may be. "Over here, over here," he yelled repeatedly.
**
Obi-Wan sped through the desert dunes in his dilapidated X-34 landspeeder, his mind intently searching for any sign of incongruities among the sparse life. He reflected briefly that such focus on the living Force would have made his old master quite proud of him. A pity, though, that it had taken all these years of isolation on this desert world for him to finally understand what Qui-Gon had felt so strongly about. Quite tragic that had understanding come earlier for him some of the calamities of the past decades might have been avoided.
However, those events were in the past, and too much attention paid to the past could be just as blinding as focusing too closely on the future. Both tended to blur understanding of the here and now into something more consistent with what was expected rather than what was actually occurring. Obi-Wan was convinced now that this was what had allowed Palpatine to operate so closely to the Jedi without detection until it was too late – what had allowed Anakin's degeneration to progress without his knowledge.
Now the living Force sang out to Obi-Wan more clearly than the songbirds of Alderaan's morning. It painted for him intricate visions of how every life and each event in those lives interwove to form the whole. It detailed for him how one, small, seemingly insignificant occurrence could permanently alter the course of all things to come. Visions from Obi-Wan's regular meditations had communicated that one such event had recently transpired and started a ripple in the Force so miniscule in its beginning as to be nearly undetectable. But as he had learned, such ripples could grow to devastating proportions given the proper circumstances. This one had already grown enough to touch him on this remote planet.
The Force had warned him this morning of Vader's arrival, giving the Jedi time to hide his presence, and had allowed him glimpses of the brief battle that had ensued in the skies above Tatooine. The Imperials had been easily victorious, but Obi-Wan had sensed a wave of angered frustration from Vader. Not all of the Dark Lord's objectives had been achieved.
The source of Vader's frustration had come to Obi-Wan immediately in an unsolicited vision of a small streak of light burning through the sky to crash somewhere well beyond the horizon of his humble abode. Another small event in the lives of the inhabitants here, but one that Obi-Wan recognized as something more. Now, with his landspeeder's scanners indicating objects up ahead, he realized that his search for the source of his vision was nearly complete.
Obi-Wan eased back on the throttle and adjusted his course slightly to put him on an intercept course with the objects he now knew to be droids. Pulling up to them, he barely had time to cut his engines before the protocol droid scrambled awkwardly up to the side of the vehicle to greet him. The astromech droid hung back though, seemingly much more hesitant to trust a stranger.
"Oh, thank the maker you've found us sir! We're saved!" the protocol droid proclaimed joyously.
"Easy friend," Obi-Wan tried to calm it as he climbed stiffly out of the landspeeder. "Why don't you start by telling me who you are and how you came to be stranded out here?"
"Oh, gracious, this heat has caused me to completely forget my manners." The golden droid straightened itself formally and began again in a much calmer voice, "I am C-3PO, human cyborg, relations, and this is my counterpart, R2-D2. We have had the most dreadful experience with invading Imperial soldiers…"
Artoo whistled a sharp warning that quickly cut-off Threepio's loose voice synthesizer.
Threepio wheeled about at the rude interruption to rebuke Artoo. "What do you mean, cutting me off like that?" he demanded.
Artoo's short electronic blurt communicated his wariness of giving a stranger so much information.
Threepio seemed shocked. What possibly could they have to fear from such an old and obviously humble human? "Well, really! If you want any help at all with this imagined mission of yours, you will have to trust somebody eventually. I for one am not going to pass up the only assistance we've had offered."
"What mission would that be?" Obi-Wan calmly interjected as he lowered himself to the shorter droid's level.
Artoo studied the old man carefully. His visual scanners took in the tattered cloak and robes he wore, so closely resembling the old-style Jedi dress. The man did match the general description included on the datacard, and there was certainly no appearance of a threat from his gentle, inquisitive eyes. Threepio was right. He would have to trust someone eventually, and this human seemed to be his best and only choice. Artoo issued a cautious stream of hopeful, but otherwise unintelligible beeps.
Obi-Wan looked expectantly to Threepio.
Threepio, though taken aback by the man's sudden shift in interest to Artoo, obediently switched into the role of interpreter. "He says he's looking for an Obi-Wan Kenobi, a resident of these parts."
Obi-Wan turned his gaze reflectively back to Artoo, a slight frown of curious interest creasing his forehead. "I am Obi-Wan, little one, though it has been some time since I have gone by that name."
Artoo whistled respectfully in reply, rolled slightly forward and issued another set of beeps.
"He says he has a message for you from his mistress," Threepio provided.
"Hmmm, very interesting." Obi-Wan studied Artoo intently for a moment, then brightened. "I wonder what bit of news you bring me, but perhaps we should return to my home for this. There are others who might be looking for you."
Threepio jumped at the invitation, an image of a hot, steaming oil bath springing forth in his mind, "Oh yes, sir! We really shouldn't be left out in this environment a moment longer."
Obi-Wan gazed up at Threepio and wondered briefly what particular deed he had perpetrated to be deserving of this sort of punishment. Brushing aside his amused annoyance, he quickly gestured to both droids, "Come along then. Let's get you in the landspeeder."
**
Obi-Wan hid his spreading grin from the droids as he rummaged through his containers in search of something to placate Threepio. That droid was sitting dejectedly on the workbench, still disappointed by the lack of any real droid amenities, while the other waited patiently in the living area. He knew the memory wipe both droids had received when they had first been given over to Bail Organa prevented them from recognizing him, but Obi-Wan certainly remembered them. It seemed the memory wipe and the passage of time had done little to improve Threepio's outlook.
Obi-Wan emerged from his supply area with a small oil spray can and what limited cleaning tools he had available. "This should help," he graciously offered Threepio. "I'm afraid I don't have much experience maintaining droids, so you'll have to manage by yourself."
Threepio slumped further but accepted the offered materials with what gratitude he could muster. "Well, I suppose it will have to do."
Convinced he now had Threepio occupied for a time, Obi-Wan turned his attention to Artoo as he sat down in his chair. "Now my little friend, what is this message you have for me?"
The little droid adjusted his position to properly aim his projector at the small table in front of the chair and dutifully began playing the message he had been instructed to deliver. The image flickered briefly and then resolved itself into a somewhat disheveled looking young woman Obi-Wan immediately knew to be Leia Organa.
She began formally, "General Kenobi, years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggle against the Empire.
"I regret that I am unable to present my father's request to you in person. But my ship has fallen under attack, and I'm afraid my mission to meet with you has failed."
A glimmer of regret and concern crossed the young woman's face, but that was quickly replaced with a look of strong determination reflecting her indomitable spirit as she continued.
"I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid delivered safely to him on Alderaan.
"This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. You're my only hope," she concluded with an earnest plea. Her image then dissolved with a burst of static as Leia hurriedly leaned over the droid to end the recording.
Obi-Wan leaned back in his chair when the hologram disappeared and began pulling absently at his beard as he pondered the significance of the message. That Bail Organa's adopted daughter was now likely in Vader's hands was the most alarming aspect. Though the message gave no indication that her Jedi ancestry had been discovered, he doubted Bail would have sent her here like this for anything less. There was something else there too, Obi-Wan could sense it, but it was too elusive for him to grasp.
The Jedi sighed in acceptance of the limited knowledge he had of Leia's circumstances. He knew there was nothing he could do to help her now in any case. Her fate was in the hands in Force.
But he could do something about the information Artoo contained. Shifting his gaze back to the droid, Obi-Wan began to consider what completing that mission would require. He might be getting a little too old for this sort of thing, but there was no one else to bear the burden of the responsibility. Leia's last words rang in his ears again as if to emphasize the point.
Artoo whistled hopefully to Obi-Wan.
The Jedi responded with a reassuring smile. Of course he would take up the mission. It was his calling through the Force.
"Well, it looks as though we have a trip to prepare for," he told the little droid. "Let's see what we can find around here that might buy us a transport out of Mos Eisley."