III

I am twenty-five again, but I am not in battle. I am not on Naboo at all; I am standing in the kitchen of a small house on Tatooine. An old man's kitchen—my kitchen. I am only twenty-five, but with all the memories and experiences of the elderly man I will become. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi and I am Ben Kenobi.

I am standing at a counter looking at the battered old teakettle that I had thrown there the day before, when I sense that I am not a lone. A presence fills me, warm and comforting like a scent that brings back cherished childhood memories.

"Obi-Wan."

My eyes fill with tears at the sound of his warm, rich voice and at the sound of my name, a name I had abandoned, a name I no longer deserved. I turn around to see Qui-Gon Jinn sitting at my kitchen table. Not just a disembodied voice through the Force or in my head, but his actual physical presence! He is radiant, bathed in a glowing blue aura, but otherwise looks perfectly natural sitting at my table.

"Master," I whisper softly and fall into the chair opposite him, a thousand emotions playing through my heart. Though we have spoken a thousand times during my isolation in the desert, seeing him again, the way he raises his eyebrow to make a point or smirks when he knows I understand, it is so powerful I am overwhelmed.

Qui-Gon shakes his head and smiles. "Not Master, Obi-Wan; you are a Padawan no longer. We are equals."

"Then my training in the Order of the Whills is complete?"

"Your training, yes," Qui-Gon replies simply. I close my eyes and bow my head in gratitude. "But there is one more thing you need," he adds softly. "Obi-Wan, you have to let go."

My eyes fly open. "Let go of what?"

"Of everything, my friend. You have to let go of Anakin."

I shake my head vehemently and cast my eyes downward once more. "I cannot. I failed him. I failed you."

"You're wrong, Obi-Wan," Qui-Gon replied, his voice soothing. "You did not fail me. Anakin failed both of us."

I snap my head up and look him in the eye. "Because I couldn't train him!" I say fiercely.

Qui-Gon only smiles sadly. "Do you think I could have done any better?"

"Yes, Master! You believed in him from the start."

Qui-Gon shakes his head again. "You forget Xanatos. I believed in him, too."

I sigh and close my eyes.

"I refused to see the direction Xanatos was heading, the path he was on, even though I had been warned," he continues. "It was the same with Anakin. The Council knew he was dangerous. Yoda knew. Even you, Obi-Wan; you were right to be concerned. It was I who was wrong." His voice is quiet with sadness. "No, my friend, I could not have prevented him from choosing the dark path any better than you did."

"If only I'd have paid more attention," I object softly, my heart aching. "If only I would have seen Palpatine for what he was…"

"Obi-Wan, let go. He chose his own path; you could not choose it for him. And there is more." He pauses, his eyes boring into me. "You have to let go of Luke."

"Let go of Luke!" I protest. "But I have not yet begun with Luke! He has so much to learn!"

"And learn he shall," Qui-Gon says softly, "but you must let the Force guide his learning. You cannot control it any more than you could control Anakin's learning."

I shudder. "That's what I'm afraid of."

Qui-Gon leans forward in his chair, his face somber. "No, Obi-Wan, you do not understand. It is the attempt to control that which we cannot that brings fear, and anger. The true power in the Force comes only when we let go. Anakin fell because he could not let go of his mother and because he could not let go of Padmé."

"Then I should give up? Throw up my hands and say 'It is the will of the Force that Anakin fell, nothing can be done'?" I ask in frustration.

"Of course not. Do not mistake persistence with control," Qui-Gon replies evenly. "You know this already. Why did you not go into the Dune Sea to help whomever the Imperials are pursuing?"

Knowing he is not really seeking an answer, I simply nod, conceding his point.

"You have done a good thing bringing Luke here, Obi-Wan. You have seen him raised well by people who love him. You have seen to it that he learned right from wrong and you have kept him safe. And now you will begin to teach him the ways of the Force. By doing all this, you are proving your steadfastness, that you will not sit by and do nothing while evil reigns. But you can only do what you can do. You cannot change Anakin's past and you cannot determine Luke's future. Do what you can, my friend, but let go of what you cannot do."

I nod again, contemplating his words for a moment. At length, I return his penetrating gaze and ask "What of my dreams? Am I to die before I see Luke trained?"

"That is not for me to know. 'Always in motion..."

"'...the future is,'" I finish along with him, quoting the oft repeated words of Master Yoda. Qui-Gon chuckles and I laugh quietly along with him, enjoying this one last moment of camaraderie with my former Master.

Inevitably the moment passes and Qui-Gon's face turns solemn once more. "Death is another thing we cannot control. But the key is in accepting that. If it is time, Obi-Wan, let go of your life. That is the final secret of the Order of the Whills. If you can do that, then no one can defeat you. Not the Emperor, not Anakin, not the dark side. If you cling to life past its time, you can only lose it, but if you let go, surrender your will to that of the Force, then you will live on. That is the true power of the light side and that is why the Emperor is destined to fail."

Once more I nod thoughtfully at his words. We have discussed it many times during my training over the last eighteen years, but somehow seeing his face, having him physically present as he hadn't been since his death, brings me a sense of peace that his instruction alone never could.

Perhaps sensing my thoughts, Qui-Gon leans forward again. "It will not be easy," he begins. "I know you do not want to leave Luke behind." He pauses and reaches his hands across the table. For a moment I think he is going to take my hands in his, but I don't think that in his present state he is able to physically touch me. Nevertheless, the movement is comforting. "The hardest thing I ever had to do was leave you, Obi-Wan."

I swallow, feeling the tears in my eyes once more.

"Do you remember Queen Veda of Gala?" he asks suddenly. I frown, perplexed by the sudden change of topic, but after a moment I am able to remember the Queen. The ruler of the planet Gala, Queen Veda had decided near the end of her reign that she wanted her planet to become a democracy. Qui-Gon and I were sent to monitor the first election on Gala. It was our very first official mission as Master and Padawan.

"Do you remember that she spoke to us of her legacy? That she wanted a democratic government on Gala as her legacy to her people?" he continues.

Although our mission to Gala had been over four decades ago, I remember this conversation well. The Queen's words about legacy had resonated with me, even though I was only thirteen. What could be the legacy of one who leads the life of a Jedi? Of one who gives up all attachments to family and heritage to serve as a Knight? "I remember," I tell Qui-Gon.

"Queen Veda helped me see what my own legacy was," he tells me softly. "Obi-Wan, you are my legacy. You are my greatest pride and honor."

I am deeply moved by his words, but they also bring with them a great sense of sorrow as I realize what my own legacy is. "And Anakin is my legacy," I say darkly.

Qui-Gon only smiles. "No, Obi-Wan. Anakin is not your legacy any more than Xanatos is mine. Luke is your legacy."

For the first time in a week, I was sorry to awaken from my dream. My face was wet with tears and I reached out as if I could grasp Qui-Gon's fading image, but with his admonishment to let go still ringing in my ears, I released the dream and allowed myself to come fully alert, to focus on the living Force.

The Force flowed into me, electric. The disturbance I had been sensing for a week now was stronger than ever, yet paradoxically I felt at peace. More at peace than I had felt in a very long time. Whatever path I was to take, whatever path was before Luke, the Force would guide us. That was enough.

I wiped my face with my hand and got out of bed slowly. Unlike the past several days, I had not been awakened pre-dawn; the suns were already hovering above the horizon and warm light filled my room. I felt rested, the weariness of the past few days gone. Only the energy of the Force remained, that and Qui-Gon's parting words to me: Luke is your legacy.

Luke!

The Force suddenly ripped through me like a dust storm through Beggar's Canyon, and instantly I was immersed in another vision:

Tusken Raiders are gathered around a landspeeder, rummaging through its contents. Nearby, sprawled on the rocky ground in the shadow of a canyon wall, lies Luke, unconscious or...

The vision ended abruptly and I was back in my bedroom. Luke! my mind cried out and I sprang towards my dresser, my bones shrieking in protest. Dreams be damned, I was not twenty-five. I forced myself to slow down—the vision was the future, not something happening now. I was not going to do Luke any good by rushing around like a damn fool. Slowly and methodically I pulled out a clean tunic and pants and began dressing as I replayed the vision in my mind, allowing the Force to guide me. Obviously he would be attacked by Sand People, and judging from the rocky landscape it would happen somewhere in the Jundland Wastes. But what in the name of the Force would Luke be doing traveling alone in the Jundland Wastes? Like any other boy his age, Luke could be brash and reckless, but surely he had more sense than to go riding about in the Tusken Raiders' territory by himself. I shook my head, dispelling the paternal line of thinking; it wasn't going to help me find him. And finding him could prove to be difficult: the Jundland Wastes were almost as expansive at the Dune Sea and stretched for hundreds of kilometers in a rough semicircle around Anchorhead and Luke's home. He could have gone in almost any direction. Searching for him could prove to be as arduous a task as searching for the fugitives from the Tantive IV would have been.

This time was different, however. This was Luke and I had a bond to him, a bond through the Force. The vision itself was proof of that. The Force would guide me to him, I had to trust in that.

I finished dressing and reached for my lightsaber. With its reassuring weight hanging from my belt, I pulled on my worn brown cloak and headed out back towards my landspeeder. Once behind the drivers' console, I reached out with the Force. Which way?

East, came the reply, a feeling more than an actual word, and I started up the repulsors and directed the speeder east.

I had gone a surprisingly short distance, not more than fifty kilometers or so, when my instincts told me to stop. Finding a dark alcove where I could conceal my landspeeder from the Sand People, I left it behind, pulling the hood of my cloak up to conceal my face. East, the Force whispered, so I continued on foot eastward, over a tall, rocky outcropping.

Even before I reached the crest of the rise, I could sense the Sand People's presence. Though sentients, the Tusken Raiders were primitive nomads who operated under the most basic of desires: food, shelter, procreation, and an overwhelming sense of territorialism. Their emotions, strong and unchecked, radiated through the Force with the clarity of a homing beacon. A group of them was gathered in the canyon just below me, their joy of the hunt and their satisfaction at having conquered their prey coloring the Force deeply. For a moment my heart squeezed in my chest—satisfaction at having conquered their prey—but I resolutely continued onward. Luke was alive, I could sense it.

Just below the top of the rise, I stopped and took a deep breath. Placing my hands around my mouth, I bellowed out a piercing wail. It reverberated around the canyon walls as I topped the hill and came around a large boulder and entered the canyon.

Before me I could see the scene exactly as it had been in my vision, only instead of rummaging through the landspeeder, the Sand People were scattering, startled by my fierce screech: the call of the kyat dragon. As they ran away, I quickly headed into the rocky crevasse and over to the spot where Luke lay sprawled behind a small boulder. Kneeling beside him, I checked his wrist for a pulse—good and strong—then put my hand to his forehead, my fingertips on one temple and my thumb on the other, and allowed the Force to flow through me to heal the boy's concussion. While I was thus occupied, I heard a soft, metallic whistle that sounded curiously like a sigh.

I looked up to my right where I saw a shallow cave etched into the canyon wall. Concealed in the shadows of the cave was a small, domed droid, an R2 unit, if I was not mistaken. I had a sudden pang of nostalgia as I realized it very closely resembled Anakin's old astromech, R2-D2. I pulled back my hood, smiled, and nodded at it.

"Hello there."

The droid beeped suspiciously at me.

"Come here my little friend," I said kindly, remembering how Anakin used to treat droids like living pets. I motioned the droid forward with my hands, "don't be afraid."

It beeped again questioningly. Damned if it wasn't exactly like Anakin's little R2! I decided it must be Luke's droid and was trying to ascertain whether I was helping or harming its master. "Oh don't worry, he'll be all right," I told it, indicating Luke with a wave of my hand. Then to prove my point, I shook his shoulder gently and the boy gradually opened his eyes. He blinked, dazed, and I helped him to slowly sit up.

"Rest easy, son, you've had a busy day. You're fortunate to be all in one piece."

At the sound of my voice, Luke's eyes cleared and he looked at me with surprise. "Ben? Ben Kenobi?" he cried. "Boy am I glad to see you!"

"The Jundland Wastes are not to be traveled lightly," I scolded him, my paternal instincts returning once more. I stood up and then offered him my hand and helped him to his feet as well. As I helped him, limping, over to a boulder to sit down, I asked, "Tell me, young Luke, what brings you out this far?"

Luke sat down heavily, then motioned toward the R2 unit, which had already made its way out from its hiding place in the cave and was rolling quietly towards us. "This little droid."

The droid twirped in response and I looked at it, frowning. The resemblance to R2-D2 was starting to feel a bit eerie.

"I think he's searching for his former master," Luke continued, "but I've never seen such devotion in a droid before." The droid whistled, sounding almost proud of the compliment. "He claims to be the property of an 'Obi-Wan Kenobi.'"

At the mention of that name, I froze, stunned. As far as I knew, no one on this planet outside of myself, Owen, and Beru remembered that name. Certainly they had never told it to Luke.

"Is he a relative of yours?" Luke was asking hopefully. "Do you know what he's talking about?"

I sat down heavily on the boulder beside Luke. "Obi-Wan Kenobi," I whispered in wonderment. R2-D2 would have known that name, I couldn't help but think, and resisted taking a longer look at the droid. Could it possibly be? "Obi-Wan... Now that's a name I've not heard in a long time." I nodded thoughtfully. "A long time." Not by anyone living, anyway. I had given it up long ago; even Yoda did not call me Obi-Wan anymore. It was a name from another time, a name I would not reclaim until I had begun what I came here to do: train my last Padawan.

Luke regarded me thoughtfully, obviously noting my surprise. "I think my uncle knows him. He said he was dead."

"Oh, he's not dead," I replied, though it didn't surprise me in the least that Owen would tell him that. "Not yet," I finish, rolling my eyes skyward.

"Do you know him?"

"Well of course I know him," I chuckled. "He's me!" I patted my chest for emphasis.

At this revelation, the astromech droid twittered excitedly, but I continued on, lost in my own reverie. "I haven't gone by the name Obi-Wan since, oh, since before you were born," I told Luke wistfully.

"Well then, the droid does belong to you," he said matter-of-factly.

I frowned. "I don't seem to remember ever owning a droid." But Anakin did. "Very interesting," I finished mostly to myself.

At that moment a harsh grunt echoed through the canyon. The Tusken Raiders were returning. Rising, I told Luke "I think we'd better get indoors. The Sand People are easily startled, but they'll soon be back. And in greater numbers." He rose also and we turned and headed towards his landspeeder.

The R2 unit whistled a sharp protest and Luke suddenly cried out "Threepio!" then headed off in the opposite direction. I turned to follow him, urging him to hurry. What could be so important—

I soon realized what he was after when I saw him bend down and pick up something gold and metallic. A severed droid's arm, it looked like. He took a few more steps around another boulder and found the rest of the droid, a protocol droid from the looks of it. He bent down to help the humanoid-looking droid into a sitting position while I came around the other side. At Luke's touch, the droid came alive, its visual scanners lighting up, and immediately I was reminded of the protocol droid Anakin had built and given to Padmé as a gift.

"Where am I?" the droid asked in a prissy metallic voice. "I must have taken a bad step."

And then I knew. Even after almost twenty years, I couldn't help but recognize that distinctive voice. This was C-3PO, the protocol droid Anakin had built! My eyes widened in shock. Which meant the R2 unit didn't just resemble Anakin's astromech; it was Anakin's astromech. The two droids that had been left with Bail Organa on the Tantive IV…

My eyes widened in shock as the pieces began to fall into place. Bloody Sith! Two fugitives escaped the ship and landed in the Dune Sea. Two fugitives who the Imperials feared would survive the treacherous journey across the sands and the Jundland Wastes and somehow make it to Mos Eisley to find transport off planet. They could survive because they were never alive in the first place. The Imperials were searching for droids—these droids. But what was so important about an innocuous pair of droids that would call for such a search and lockdown on the entire planet? And how in the galaxy could they have possibly ended up in Luke's possession, of all people?

"Well, can you stand?" Luke was asking Threepio. "We've got to get out of here before the Sand People return."

"I don't think I can make it," the droid replied melodramatically. "You go on, Master Luke. There's no sense in you risking yourself on my account. I'm done for."

"No you're not, what kind of talk is that?" Luke sighed.

I rolled my eyes. It was definitely Threepio. "Quickly, they're on the move!" I snapped, although at this point I was starting to worry a lot more about stormtroopers than Tuskens. Together Luke and I helped the droid upright than headed over to Luke's speeder.

When the droids were safely stowed in the back, Luke and I climbed inside as well. "Go that way," I pointed, indicating the way I'd come. "My speeder is parked below that ridge."

Luke curled his lip in distaste. "No offense, but I've seen your speeder," he scoffed. "Maybe we should just leave it."

I chuckled softly. "Looks can be deceiving, young Luke. Just take me to my speeder and then you can follow me back to my house. It isn't far from here."

Luke gave me a dubious look, but he did as I instructed and soon we were safely home without encountering any more Tusken Raiders—or Imperials. I helped Luke bring the mangled Threepio inside and over to my workbench where he could try and repair him before taking it back to his uncle's farm.

"If I don't get these droids fixed and out on the south ridge, Uncle Owen is going to kill me," he complained as he worked. I, however, was in no hurry to see Luke go and I had to find out how he happened to come in possession of these two particular droids. Besides, rarely did Owen allow me contact with the boy at all, let alone enough time and privacy to really talk. I was not about to let this opportunity to begin a relationship with my young charge slide. So I sat down behind him at the workbench and asked him how he came to own these droids.

As Luke worked on Threepio, he told me that Owen had just purchased Artoo and Threepio yesterday from some Jawas. Yesterday. After the capture of the Tantive IV and the search for survivors. Could it possibly be merely coincidence that the Jawas would bring the droids to the Lars farm, or was the will of the Force at work? Luke went on to tell me how he had hoped that they would provide enough help around the farm to convince his uncle to allow him to enter the Imperial Academy. I merely smiled: neither Owen nor myself would ever allow that. But I used the opportunity to bring up a subject I had long wished to discuss with Luke: his father.

"Following in your father's footsteps, I see." Just not all the way, I added silently.

Luke frowned. "My father's footsteps?"

"Of course. He was a brilliant pilot, you know. We fought in the Clone Wars together."

"No, my father didn't fight in the wars," Luke corrected me. "He was a navigator on a spice freighter."

Owen, I thought with annoyance, stroking my beard. "That's what your uncle told you. He didn't hold with your father's ideals, thought he should've stayed here and not gotten involved." The boy should have been left with his mother, he had told me many times. In hindsight, that might have been best, but Anakin had been a slave, after all. Hardly the life for a young boy, especially one with his talents. And, of course, it hadn't really been my decision anyway. Qui-Gon was the one who had found him and Qui-Gon was the one who had taken him away from his mother and off Tatooine. By the time he became my responsibility, Palpatine was already aware of him.

Luke looked at me, suddenly interested in what I had to say. "You fought in the Clone Wars?"

I smiled at the irony of the question. Fought in the Clone Wars? Blast, they were invented just to ensnare the Jedi. Perhaps even Anakin specifically. Skywalker and Kenobi, the names on the lips of every citizen of the Republic during the whole bloody thing. Fought in the Clone Wars? Oh yes, we fought in the Clone Wars. We lost our souls in the Clone Wars. And yet, it was just the in I needed. "Yes. I was once a Jedi Knight, the same as your father." I leaned back against the wall and turned away from Luke, as if lost in my own thoughts. In truth I did not want him to see how anxious I was for his response to this information. However, if the words Jedi Knight meant anything to Luke, he gave no indication of it. Instead he only sighed wistfully.

"I wish I had known him."

I wish you had known Anakin, too, I thought. Not Vader, not the monster he had become, but the real Anakin, the boy I'd trained, the young man I'd loved as a brother, regarded as my dearest friend since Qui-Gon. Yes, I wish Luke had known Anakin. And, for a just a moment, I allowed myself the hope that he might come to know him yet.

"He was the best star pilot in the galaxy," I remembered, wincing slightly and yet thinking with fondness of the nearly impossible task of following him as his wingman, "and a cunning warrior." I leaned in towards Luke. "I understand you've become quite a good pilot yourself." This was an understatement, actually. Luke and his friends were wont to race skyhoppers through Beggars Canyon and I often watched them. He flew a skyhopper like his father had flown a podracer, as if boy and machine were one, with the quick responses and instincts that could only come from the Force. I doubted Luke had any idea just how good he was; that he was better than his friends was obvious, but on a backwater planet like Tatooine that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Luke shrugged, embarrassed at the sudden compliment, but his broad smile revealed his pride.

"And he was a good friend," I continued, speaking again of his father. Then a thought occurred to me. I looked across the room to a small trunk I kept in the corner. Other than the lightsaber I carried with me wherever I went, that trunk contained everything that had been important to my past. Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight, his whole life packed into one tiny box. It also contained something for Luke, something he should have had years ago, but Owen had adamantly refused. Now might be my best opportunity to present it to Luke, to give him a piece of his heritage.

"Which reminds me," I went on, rising from my seat and crossing over to the trunk, "I have something here for you." I opened the trunk and began rifling through its contents until I found what I was looking for: a smooth cylinder of polished silver. Anakin's old lightsaber, the one that resembled my own. I fought back the tears that threatened at the thought of how he had once regarded me with enough hero-worship to fashion his lightsaber after mine. My fingers clasped the cool metal as images of Anakin proudly wielding his Jedi weapon flashed before me. I fought back the ones that tried to come of the last time I saw him use it on Mustafar.

"Your father wanted you to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. He feared you might follow old Obi-Wan on some damn fool idealistic crusade like your father did." An outright lie, that bit about Anakin wanting Luke to have his lightsaber. He may well have wished that for his future son; it was even likely. However, he never had occasion to share such a thought with me. By the time I knew Padmé's child was his, the younglings were already dead and Anakin was awaiting his fate on Mustafar. However, the idea of Anakin wanting to pass on his lightsaber and his Jedi heritage to his son pleased me, so I allowed myself the lie, knowing in my heart it wasn't really a lie at all.

At that moment, Threepio interrupted, asking Luke permission to shut down. His voice shocked me into the past again, but Luke granted permission absently, his attention focused on the weapon in my hands. He stood up and met me halfway across the room.

"What is it?"

I showed him the device, turning it over slowly in my hands. "Your father's lightsaber. This is the weapon of a Jedi Knight." I presented him the lightsaber and he took it carefully from me, examining it curiously. "Not as clumsy or random as a blaster; an elegant weapon for a more civilized age."

I sat down on the bench as Luke found the power switch and the lightsaber hummed to life. I watched closely as he got the feel of the weapon, waving it back and forth carefully, intrigued by its movement, its sound, its feel. He looks like Anakin did when he was very young, I thought with a pang of remorse.

"For over a thousand generations the Jedi Knights were the guardians of peace and justice in the Old Republic," I explained, my focus shifting inward. "Before the dark times. Before the Empire," I finished darkly.

Luke turned off the lightsaber and sat down beside me. "How did my father die?"

I swallowed hard. This is the question I had been dreading, the question that haunted me. Anakin is dead; Vader killed him, I reminded myself, then taking a breath, steeled myself for the answer Yoda and I had decided upon. "A young Jedi named Darth Vader, who was a pupil of mine until he turned to evil, helped the Empire hunt down and destroy the Jedi Knights." I paused. Please let this be the right thing. Let me be doing the right thing. "He betrayed and murdered your father."

It was done. I watched Luke's reaction carefully: his eyes registered a flicker of surprise, then sadness and he cast them downward, absorbing this information. Once that sentence was out, the rest came easily—as easily as an explanation about the massacre of my friends and comrades and the poor younglings could come, anyway. "Now the Jedi are all but extinct. Vader was seduced by the dark side of the Force."

"The Force?"

I smiled wanly; the hard part was over, now it was time to begin Luke's very first lesson. "The Force is what gives a Jedi his power. It's an energy field created by all living things. It surrounds us, and penetrates us, it binds the galaxy together," I described, motioning with my hands.

Luke nodded thoughtfully, then Artoo interrupted with a long series of beeps and whistles. Suddenly I remembered that not only had it claimed to be my property and had been in the Jundland Wastes searching for me, but that it had very likely come from the Tantive IV and if so, was the subject of a massive Imperial search. I had gotten so lost in my reminiscing about Anakin and the Jedi that I had forgotten all about the droids. I got up and went over to it as Luke returned to his work on Threepio.

"Now, let's see if we can't figure out what you are, my little friend, and where you come from." I tapped it affectionately on the top of its dome, and immediately it began projecting a hologram recording onto my small end table. The image was of a young woman in a flowing white gown and hood. She was bending down—turning on the recorder, no doubt—and then she rose and I got a look at her face.

For the briefest of moments, my heart froze in my chest. It's Padmé! But immediately I knew I was wrong. It wasn't Padmé at all, but someone who looked very much like her, someone with her noble bearing and quiet defiance. Not Padmé, but her daughter.

"I saw part of a message he was--"

"I seem to have found it," I cut Luke off, sitting down heavily. Leia. A message from Leia?

"General Kenobi," the recording began, "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 bring you to Alderaan has failed."

My eyes widened in horror. Her ship under attack… she was on the Tantive IV! As the realization hit home, my heart nearly froze again. The Tantive IV, captured by Vader!

"I have placed information vital to the survival of the rebellion into the memory systems of this R2 unit," the recording continued. "My father will know how to retrieve it." I glanced at the droid in question as my suspicions were confirmed. These were, in fact, the fugitives for which the Imperials were searching and whatever information Leia had placed into Artoo was the reason why.

"You must see this droid safely delivered to him on Alderaan." She paused. "This is our most desperate hour," she pleaded softly. "Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi, you're my only hope." She then looked over her shoulder, as if suddenly afraid she was being watched, then bent down to turn off the recording. The image flickered with static, then disappeared.

I leaned back against the wall, stroking my beard as I absorbed this message and all it meant. Leia, captured by Vader. I shuddered. If there was anything that could chill me as deeply as the thought of Vader discovering Luke, it was Vader discovering Leia. Would her resemblance to her mother be as obvious to him as it was to me? Would he be able to sense who she was? I gritted my teeth resolutely. She must be rescued; I would see to it personally. I would deliver the droids to Bail Organa on Alderaan and then volunteer for a rescue detail. We had to get her out of Vader's hands. But first there were more immediate matters to attend to. The Tantive IV had been over Tatooine searching for me. And of all the bizarre connections, the two droids she sent to retrieve me in her stead—Anakin's former droids—were captured by Jawas and bought by, of all people, Owen and Luke. Qui-Gon's words from my dream came back to me: surrender your will to that of the Force. Here I had been wondering both how I could approach Luke to begin his training and also how I could be of assistance in the matter of the Tantive IV, when all the while the Force had contrived to bring them all to me. In that instant, I knew that Luke was to begin his training right here and now. I looked over at him then; he was lost in his own musings about the message, no doubt stunned by its importance. If you only knew...

"You must learn the ways of the Force, if you are to come with me to Alderaan."

"Alderaan?" Luke replied in surprise. He stood up and walked toward the door, shaking his head. "I'm not going to Alderaan! I've gotta get home, it's late, I'm in for it as it is."

"I need your help, Luke. She needs your help. I'm getting too old for this sort of thing."

Luke paused, looking back at the table where the holo of Leia had been. He then looked at me, conflicted, his own yearning for a life beyond this planet warring with the farmer's duty instilled in him by his uncle. I raised my eyebrows at him questioningly, but it was Owen's voice that won out. "Listen, I can't get involved. I've got work to do! It's not that I like the Empire, I hate it, but there's nothing I can do about it right now." He sighed dejectedly and leaned against the doorjamb. "It's such a long way from here."

"That's your uncle talking," I pointed out.

Luke sighed again, then came back into the room and over to Artoo. "My uncle. How am I ever going to explain this?" He slapped the domed head of the little droid for emphasis and I cringed at the thought of how Anakin would react to seeing his treasured gift from Padmé treated in such a way.

"Learn about the Force, Luke."

He paused, conflicted again, but once more Owen's voice drowned out his own conscience. Shaking his head vehemently, he stomped back to the door, then paused once more as his eye caught his father's lightsaber in his own hand. He regarded it for a moment, then turned back to me. "Look, I can take you as far as Anchorhead. You can get a transport to Mos Eisley or wherever you're going."

I snorted. Obviously he still didn't think my own speeder was up to the trip and he saw this as a compromise. Although it would have been quicker for me to drive myself all the way into Mos Eisley rather than try to find public transportation from Anchorhead, the Force urged me to go with Luke. I could win him over yet. "You must do what you feel is right, of course," I conceded, though my tone clearly indicated to Luke I still had other plans for him.

While Luke set about getting the droids into his speeder, I quickly gathered the few things I would need to take with me: my cloak, my lightsaber, some money. I then joined Luke outside and climbed into the passenger seat of his speeder and we headed off, turning east towards Anchorhead. As we pulled away, I watched my house, my only home for almost two decades, disappear behind the rocky cliffs. Somehow I knew I would never see it again.

I settled back in my seat silently, my heart heavy. It wasn't just leaving behind my home of eighteen years, either. It was something else, something elusive. A disquieting sense of malfeasance that seemed to cloud the air around me. The sense of death.

"Ben?" Luke asked suddenly, breaking me out of my sullen reverie. "Who was that girl anyway? She never did say her name."

With an effort I dragged my focus back to Luke. I could tell he was fascinated by the girl—something I should probably discourage for so very many reasons— but he had just given me another opening to convince him to come with me. "Princess Leia Organa of Alderaan," I answered. "She is a member of the Imperial Senate and the daughter of Bail Organa, the viceroy of Alderaan."

"Hm," Luke said, his voice carefully neutral, but I could tell he was impressed by her credentials. I probably should have used this to prod him further, to talk him into coming with me to Alderaan, but the Force was pulling me away, demanding my attention elsewhere. Something was very, very wrong. With a sense of urgency I put my hand on Luke's arm.

"Luke, do not take me to Anchorhead. Go directly back to your house."

Luke nodded, puzzled by my odd tone. "You won't convince my uncle to let me go with you, if that's what you're thinking," he told me, but I didn't answer. It was not what I was thinking at all. I could think of nothing but the Force, urging me to hurry, to reach Luke's house before it was too late.

Before what's too late?

We hadn't gone another ten kilometers before I had my answer. The disturbance in the Force increased until it pounded at the back of my skull and the sharp scent of ozone and burning flesh invaded my senses, then suddenly I felt a sharp pop, as if one of the tethers that connected my life to others had suddenly snapped. I had so few tethers left in my life: Luke, Yoda, Vader, Owen.

Owen.

I bit down hard on my tongue to prevent myself from crying out, so as not to frighten Luke. His uncle—Anakin's stepbrother—was dead. And Beru, sweet, lovely Beru.

I gripped the sides of my seat, hoping Luke wouldn't notice my distress. I did not want him to find out this way. Likely he would think it the ramblings of a demented old man anyway, knowing nothing of the Force as he did. How could I explain that I knew his aunt and uncle, the ones who raised him, the only family he knew, were dead? How would I explain how it happened? I knew that too, enough anyway, from the foul odors that assaulted me. Blasters and fire; probably shot first, then their entire homestead set afire. I had no doubt that it was because of the droids. The Imperials had tracked the droids back to Owen and now he and his wife were dead because of them. Because of a message meant for me. I wanted to slap my forehead at my own stupidity at not having realized sooner this would happen. I should have known, I should have gone there to save them.

Owen, Beru...

From the corner of my eye I could see Luke rub the back of his head. It could have been residual discomfort from the blow the Sand People gave him, but I didn't think so. He senses it too, he just doesn't know what he's sensing. How in the name of the Force am I going to tell him?

I hardly had time to think about it when something caught my eye slightly to the north of the direction we were headed. Just beyond the horizon, a wisp of black smoke curled lazily into the sky. It was too close to be Owen's farm, which meant something else was burning. That it was related to Owen and Beru's demise I had no doubt.

"Look over there," I motioned to Luke, my voice so even it surprised even me. "Smoke."

Luke followed my gaze. At first he didn't see anything, but he angled the speeder in the direction I indicated anyway. Then, as we topped a small rise, we saw the source of the smoke: a huge Jawa sandcrawler lay in the plain below, a twisted, charred wreck. As we got closer we could see the forms of Jawas, dozens of them, strewn about the wreckage like carelessly tossed garbage, disturbingly reminiscent of my last time in the Jedi Temple, with the bodies of padawans and younglings everywhere. Luke gasped.

Slowly we pulled up to the remains of the sandcrawler and got out to examine the carnage. The droids followed dutifully behind us. "Sand People?" Luke asked me softly.

"What do you think?" I replied carefully as I myself took in the scene, noting every detail. Perhaps I could ease into the news of his aunt and uncle by helping him see what had happened here.

"It looks like the Sand People did this all right," he responded, picking his way through the debris. "Look—there's Gaderffii sticks and Bantha tracks. It's just— I've never heard of them hitting anything this big before."

"They didn't, but we are meant to think they did. These tracks are side-by-side; Sand People always ride single file to hide their numbers," I told him pointedly.

"These are the same Jawas that sold us Artoo and Threepio," he commented, and I could see he was beginning to work out the pieces. I slapped him on the arm and directed his attention toward the sandcrawler.

"And these blast points, too accurate for Sand People. Only Imperial stormtroopers are so precise," I said with emphasis, trying not to think of the clone trooper I'd known as Cody and considered a comrade in arms, who had joked with me about droid kill counts and returned my lightsaber that he'd retrieved when I'd lost it in my final battle with the Separatist General Grievous, then moments later calmly shot my dragonmount from under me in placid obedience to Order Sixty-Six. I tried not to think of a thousand other troopers shooting down a thousand other Jedi on a thousand other planets. No deceit, no deception, no malice; they merely follow orders. One order is like any other to a trooper.

"But why would Imperial troops want to slaughter Jawas?" Then he looked over at the droids and the final piece clicked into place. Now perhaps I could explain about his family.

Luke, however, was quicker than I gave him credit. "If they tracked the droids here, they might have learned who they sold them to and that would lead them back... home."

Before I could stop him, Luke bolted away from me and headed back to his landspeeder at a dead run. "Wait Luke! It's too dangerous!" I called out after him, but he ignored me. For I moment I considered running after him, but I knew it would be a futile gesture, so instead I reached out to the Force, ahead of him, towards Owen's farm. Were the stormtroopers still there? Would they catch Luke if he went back? Not that I could do anything about it; Luke was already vaulting into his landspeeder and racing homeward. Still I reached into the Force. Maybe if there was still great danger I could find a way to stop him... But I was relieved to sense that the danger had passed. The stormtroopers had already moved on.

As soon as Luke's speeder was out of sight, I allowed my calm facade to crack. "Blast!" I screamed vehemently, startling the droids. Artoo beeped at me, sounding almost concerned and Threepio echoed that concern a moment later.

"May we be of some assistance, Sir?"

I sighed deeply, collecting myself again. It was eerie the way he addressed me, as a stranger and not a guest he had regularly served at the home of his mistress, Senator Amidala. Although I understood the wisdom of Bail ordering the droid's memory wiped, it was nevertheless disconcerting. "No, I'm all right," I reassured him, but I was anything but. Owen was dead, Beru was dead, Luke was going to have to see what remained, and all of it was because of a message carried by an innocuous little R2 unit. Anakin's R2 unit. A message meant for me. Damn.

Why didn't I see it coming? Why didn't I get a vision, like I did with Luke? If I had only sensed it sooner, I could have arrived in time. I could have saved them. Even without a vision, I should have known. Any idiot could have deduced that the Imperials would eventually be able to track the fugitive droids to the Jawas and then to the farmers who purchased them, but I had been so wrapped up in talking with Luke, in reminiscing about the past, I'd forgotten the more urgent present, the living Force. Owen and Beru were dead and it was my fault.

You can only do what you can do. Qui-Gon's voice, an echo from my dream.

Yes, surrender my will to that of the Force. It sounded so simple, seemed so simple this morning when the Force directed me to Luke. But why could it have not been so with Owen and Beru? Why would the Force direct me to save Luke, but not warn me in enough time to save the man and woman who raised him? Damn.

Again I sighed deeply. I didn't even know how to mourn the death of Anakin's stepbrother. He disapproved of everything Anakin and I had believed in, everything I had done, every choice I made. But he was Luke's uncle and guardian, a tether to my life that had been cut. An attachment, even though I was supposed to have none. Leave us alone! he used to complain regularly. Anakin is gone and the Jedi are gone! You and your Jedi will be the death of me! Indeed.

But another voice in me protested: No. The Empire is responsible for this, not the Jedi and not I. I was no more responsible for their choices than I was for Anakin's. The Empire killed Owen and Beru, and for absolutely no reason at all—they surely knew nothing about the droids or where they came from. The Empire chased Leia here with these droids. They were to blame. I had chosen to fight. I had chosen to stand against Palpatine and his "New Order" and the Sith apprentice who once was my Padawan. Owen and Beru died because of that, but innocent people die every single day at the hands of the Emperor. If I did not stand and fight, if I do not teach Luke to stand and fight, then everyone dies because the light dies.

"Sir?" It was Padmé's protocol droid again, Anakin's creation, looking at me with his head cocked in such a way that he seemed worried. "Are you sure there's nothing—"

"Actually, there is something we can do," I cut him off. "These Jawas do not deserve to be consigned to the scavengers. We must start a fire and cremate their bodies. It is fitting."

If it were possible for a droid to wrinkle his face in disgust, I believe Threepio would have done so. But to his credit, he simply replied "Yes sir." He then motioned to Artoo and they began to search for fuel with which to start a fire. Before long we had enough scraps of cloth and oil from the sandcrawler to start a small bonfire and slowly and methodically we began the task of gathering up the bodies of the small Jawas and heaping them onto the funeral pyre. I raised my hood in reverence for the dead. I could not lay Owen and Beru to rest, but I could do this for the Jawas at least.

The droids and I were just finishing the gruesome task when Luke returned, driving at a much more sober pace than when he had left. He climbed out of his landspeeder and walked slowly towards me, his eyes cast downward. He stopped in front of me and did not look up, his shoulders slumped with a burden I knew all too well.

"There is nothing you could have done, Luke, had you been there," I said softly, trying to shut out the voices that whispered to me that I could have done something had I been there. "You'd have been killed too, and the droids would now be in the hands of the Empire."

Luke looked up at me then, his face etched with grief but his eyes resolute and determined. "I want to come with you to Alderaan. There's nothing for me here now. I want to learn the ways of the Force and become a Jedi like my father."

And so it was that Luke Skywalker became my second and final Padawan Learner, his uncle and aunt—Anakin's stepbrother and sister-in-law—sacrificed so that he could begin his journey. You can only do what you can do. I nodded solemnly and took him gently by the arm. Together we turned and I led him away.