IV
We drove straight through to Mos Eisley, bypassing Anchorhead altogether. I had half expected Luke to want to stop there to say goodbye to some of his friends, but going to Anchorhead would mean passing by his uncle's farm and it was clear Luke had no intention of going anywhere near there again. Instead we kept close to the cliffs of the Jundland Wastes, giving wide berth to both Luke's home and Anchorhead. We didn't stop until we reached the eastern edge of the Wastes, where we paused on a high cliff that overlooked Mos Eisley in the valley below.
"Mos Eisley spaceport," I said with disgust as we looked down upon the city. "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious." I'm not sure whether I meant it more as a warning to him or a reminder to myself; though I hadn't checked the scanners today I knew the city would be thick with stormtroopers and they would be looking for Luke's droids.
When we finally made it to town, I was a little surprised to find that the stormtrooper presence was not that obvious at first. The southern outskirts of Mos Eisley had the usual assortment of life forms and droids bustling about the streets, but as we got more into the heart of town, where all of the spaceports were located, stormtroopers were stationed in pairs at regular intervals. Reflexively I pulled my hood up around my head.
"This doesn't look good," Luke whispered nervously. "We should have tried to hide the droids."
I reached over and patted his arm reassuringly. "Don't worry, just keep driving."
We did not get far before four troopers motioned for us to stop. Luke swallowed nervously, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the wheel. "Just answer their questions and let me do the rest of the talking," I whispered just before we stopped in front of them.
"How long have you had these droids?" the highest ranking among them asked Luke authoritatively.
"About three or four seasons," Luke replied nervously.
"They're up for sale if you want them," I cut in.
Ignoring me, the lead trooper ordered Luke, "Let me see your ID."
I could see Luke stiffen even more as he turned to me for guidance. If the troopers recognized his name and address on the ID...
I wasn't looking at him, however; my gaze was fixed on the stormtrooper. With a wave of my hand and a small push from the Force, I told him softly: "You don't need to see his identification."
"We don't need to see his identification," the trooper agreed as if it were self-evident.
"These aren't the droids you're looking for," I added.
"These aren't the droids we're looking for."
"He can go about his business."
"You can go about your business."
"Move along."
"Move along, move along." He waved us forward impatiently, as if he had much more pressing matters to attend to and did not want to waste any more time with the likes of us.
Luke didn't need to be told twice; he stepped down on the accelerator and pulled away quickly, his expression a mixture of bewilderment and relief. I then pointed him in the direction of Chalmun's Cantina, which was only a few blocks from where we were stopped. Luke pulled the speeder up to the dirty sandstone building, turned off the engines, then climbed out, waving away the inevitable Jawa who was already eyeing his vehicle greedily.
"I can't abide those Jawas," Threepio sniffed disdainfully over my shoulder. "Disgusting creatures!"
Ignoring the protocol droid's complaint, Luke turned to me. "I can't understand how we got by those troops. I thought we were dead!"
"The Force can have a strong influence on the weak-minded," I explained.
Luke nodded, then turned toward the dusty doorway of Chalmun's. "Do you really think we're gonna find a pilot here that'll take us to Alderaan?" he asked, his nose wrinkled in distaste.
I can't say that I disagreed with the boy's aversion to the cantina—or anything in Mos Eisley, for that matter—but I wished that he would stop making such snap judgments based on appearances. He would have to learn to look deeper, to see beyond the facade if he was going to become a Jedi. Yoda was going to have a field day with him. Now was not the time for a lecture, however. I simply nodded and told him "Most of the best freighter pilots are to be found here. Only watch your step," I warned, "this place can be a little rough." Big understatement, that.
"I'm ready for anything," Luke said cockily. I only grinned, then the two of us headed off into the cantina, the droids on our heels.
As we entered the dank tavern, I noticed immediately that it was considerably more crowded than it had been the day before yesterday when I had last been here. The day before yesterday, I thought to myself, slightly amazed. It seems like a lifetime ago. The dark room was packed from wall to wall with every kind of creature imaginable. In the corner, a jizz band made up of white-faced Bith was wailing out a catchy tune, the kind that would stick in your head for hours if you listened too long. Very few patrons were listening, however; most were caught up in their pressing business deals, tête-à-têtes, or posturing. Scanning the crowd quickly from the doorway, I decided to try the bar first and made my way over there, leaving Luke behind me, gaping wide-eyed at the vast array of sentient life that had gathered here.
As I neared the bar, I saw a muscular Wookiee towering over a human in a flight suit. For a moment I thought the Wookiee was Chalmun, the cantina's owner, but as I got closer I could see that this one was much younger and a little more fierce. Wookiees, however, were by and large a species for which I had great respect. Their honesty and integrity was galaxy-renowned, and as they were considered a slave race by the Empire, Wookiees were generally known to be deeply anti-Imperial. A Wookiee was someone I could likely trust, so I figured he would be a good place to start. I wondered if the spacer he was talking to, a short man who looked vaguely familiar to me, worked with him. The human noticed me heading towards him, so I smiled, but I caught a strange sense in the Force. Wonderful, I groaned inwardly, a Force-sensitive Jedi wannabe.
With the Jedi nearly extinct and thanks to an extensive anti-Force propaganda campaign by the Empire, most people either knew nothing of the Force or thought it was just the foolish invention of a ridiculous band of sorcerers who deserved their fate. There were a few, however, who were intrigued by the old tales—most of them wildly inaccurate—and fancied themselves knowledgeable in the Jedi arts. If they were not Force-sensitive, they were completely harmless. But very rarely I would come across someone who could sense the Force, but whose knowledge was misdirected and ill-founded. Usually I avoided this type like I avoided Vader; the last thing I needed was for some padawan-wannabe to latch onto me when I was trying to avoid exposure. Therefore, when I sensed that this spacer was exactly that sort of person, I intended to head in the opposite direction, his connection to the Wookiee notwithstanding. However, something made me pause. Qui-Gon would love this sort of person, would have gone out of his way to give him a few kind words of redirection, in fact. With a small sigh, I continued on my path toward the spacer. This one's for you, Qui-Gon.
As it turned out, the spacer was interested in the Force, but did not have a ship. However, he was not partnered with the Wookiee after all, and when the spacer sadly informed me he could not help me get off planet, the Wookiee grunted at him and he then told me that the Wookiee might be able to help me. He then excused himself, leaving me with the towering, brown-furred life form, who seemed rather keen on being of service to me. I suppose it could have just been the prospect of a good fare, but something told me otherwise. Besides being anti-Imperial, Wookiees tended to be very pro-Jedi. They were long-lived creatures and as this one was clearly an adult he had to be at least old enough to remember the Clone Wars. Yoda himself had led the last defense of Kashyyyk. He had been there, in fact, when Order Sixty-Six had been carried out and had been aided in his escape by the Wookiees. Never ones to forget those to whom they owe a debt, they tended to be one of the few races in the galaxy that still revered the Jedi and I had a feeling this one knew by my robes what I was. Ah Qui-Gon, I should listen to you more often, I said inwardly. I get to have my ryshcate and eat it, too.
I stepped up to the tall creature, hoping my knowledge of his language wasn't too rusty to understand him. Fortunately, I could follow him well enough to get his name, which was Chewbacca, and to understand that he was the first mate on a ship called the Millennium Falcon. At that point we were interrupted by the bartender standing just behind me, who bellowed out "Hey! We don't serve their kind here."
I realized he was directing his objection towards Luke. When the boy seemed confused, the bartender explained, "Your droids, they'll have to wait outside, we don't want them here."
I had forgotten that this particular bar did not allow droids and wondered for a moment if there would be trouble, but Luke quickly directed Threepio and Artoo to wait outside and the commotion was over. I was a little uneasy with this; the stormtroopers were looking for them, after all, but decided that to make an issue of it would be to draw undue attention on ourselves. The two droids escaped the Dune Sea and evaded the stormtroopers for two days, they could handle a few more minutes on their own.
The situation thus handled, Luke stepped up to the bar behind me as I returned to my conversation with Chewbacca, who patiently explained that his captain was a human Corellian named Han Solo and that they might be interested in taking us to Alderaan—if the price was right. He was in the midst of trying to give me information about his ship when another commotion, also involving Luke, erupted behind me. An Aqualish and his human friend had decided that the green human moisture farmer was a good target for their intimidation, and judging by the way the crowd suddenly vacated the immediate area, they were likely to become hostile. In a place like this, hostile often meant deadly. Turning, I stepped in to diffuse the situation.
"This little one's not worth the effort," I said soothingly—and with a little push of the Force—to the human, whose face was so scarred he scarcely looked human at all. "Come, let me get you something."
These two, however, were too hostile to acquiesce so easily and were apparently resistant to the influence of the Force as well. With a furious bellow the human shoved Luke roughly aside and the boy flew into a nearby table, upending it.
Without hesitation, I reached into my belt and withdrew my lightsaber, igniting it in one fluid motion. Even as I did so, both the human and the Aqualish went for blasters. The bartender screamed "No blasters! No blasters!" then dove for cover under the bar as the rest of the patrons left a vacuum around us. Luke's two assailants fired at me, but I deflected their blasts with a simple twirl of my blade and then swung it in a smooth arc across them both, cutting through the Aqualish's arm and grazing the human's chest. Howling in agony, they backed away from me as quickly as they could and I brought my lightsaber up before me in guard position, then eyed the rest of the crowd warily, as if daring anyone else to challenge me. I glanced at Luke, still sprawled on the floor, slack-jawed, as his eyes went from me and my lightsaber to the Aqualish's severed arm still clutching its blaster. Behind me I heard Chewbacca softly growl his approval. If he hadn't guessed before I was a Jedi, he certainly had figured it out now. I continued to stand at attention until gradually all eyes turned away from me and back toward their own conversations. Having asserted myself to any other would-be challengers, I closed down my lightsaber. The Bith band began to play again and the disturbance was over. Just another brawl at Chalmun's Cantina.
I glanced back at Chewbacca and gave him a brief nod, then walked over to Luke and extended my hand to help him up, the Wookiee following me.
"I'm all right," Luke grunted as I helped him up.
"Chewbacca here is first mate on a ship that might suit us," I informed him as together we found a small booth in the corner which would afford us more privacy.
Once we were seated, Chewbacca went off to find his captain, then returned, grunting to me that he would be along shortly. A few moments later a lanky human approached the table. Tall and dark-haired with sharp dark eyes that seemed to take in everything, he walked with a confident gate and was wearing both a hip blaster and a smug expression. Corellian obviously, and one with some military background, judging from the Corellian bloodstripe he wore down the side of his trousers. This might have caused me some concern, were it not for Chewbacca. The fact that a Wookiee would work for him recommended him well in my eyes. He slid smoothly into the seat beside Chewbacca and regarded me warily.
"Han Solo," he said by way of introduction. "I'm captain of the Millennium Falcon. Chewie here tells me you're looking for passage to the Alderaan system."
I returned his wary expression with one of my own, then shifted into negotiation mode. With most Corellians, the best way to get their attention is to go for their ego. "Yes indeed," I replied, "if it's a fast ship."
Solo stared at me incredulously. "Fast ship? You've never heard of the Millennium Falcon?"
Ha! It worked! "No, should I have?" I asked, innocently, amused.
"It's the ship that made the Kessel run in less than twelve parsecs." When this revelation inspired only a doubtful smirk from me, he leaned forward purposefully. "I've outrun Imperial starships. Not the local bulk cruisers, mind you. I'm talking about the big Corellian ships now. She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo?"
"Only passengers. Myself, the boy, two droids, and no questions asked." I finished with emphasis.
Solo's face erupted in a roguish grin. "What is it, some kind of local trouble?"
"Let's just say we'd like to avoid any Imperial entanglements."
He leaned back a little. "Well, that's the real trick, isn't it?" he said innocently. "And it's gonna cost you something extra," he finished, all business again. "Ten thousand, all in advance?"
"Ten thousand!" Luke cried out, joining the conversation for the first time. "We could almost buy our own ship for that!"
"But who's gonna fly it, kid? You?" Solo retorted derisively.
"You bet I could, I'm not such a bad pilot myself," Luke spat back and I had to swallow a chuckle at the immense understatement. Then starting to rise, he turned to me. "We don't have to sit here and listen—"
I put my hand on his arm, cutting him off, and guided him back into his seat. There was something about Solo. Though he didn't seem to have any sensitivity to the Force, he was a strong presence in it, fairly radiating warm energy. Despite all his mercenary bravado, I liked Han Solo; I sensed great potential in him, and something just felt right about his taking us to Alderaan. I made a bold decision. "We can pay you two thousand now, plus fifteen when we reach Alderaan." Bail Organa wouldn't even flinch at paying fifteen thousand, not if the information in Artoo was as important as his daughter claimed.
This got Solo's attention, though he tried to act nonchalant. "Seventeen, huh?" I nodded.
He paused, pretending to weigh his options although I could clearly sense he was ecstatic. "Okay, you guys got yourself a ship. We'll leave as soon as you're ready, Docking Bay Ninety-four."
"Ninety-four," I repeated.
Solo's eyes darted behind me toward the bar. "Looks like somebody's beginning to take an interest in your handiwork."
Looking carefully over my shoulder, I saw two Imperial stormtroopers talking to the bartender, who pointed in our direction. I exchanged a brief glance with Luke, then noticed Solo jerk his head to the side, indicating a side door in the opposite direction from the approaching troopers. Nodding at him and Chewbacca, I slipped quickly out of my seat and headed in the direction Solo had indicated, Luke close on my heels.
Just before we got to the door, I sensed someone else watching us with great interest. Turning slightly, I locked eyes with, of all beings, Momaw Nadon, the Ithorian who worked with the rebellion. There was a treacherous sense about him in the Force. Odd, that someone involved with the rebellion would have ill intentions towards us. Frowning, I stared at him intently, hoping that he would realize I'd noticed him. Apparently he did, for he withered under my gaze and the threat I sensed from him was replaced with something more like shame. Whatever Nadon had had in mind, I had piqued his conscience. Then Luke and I slid quietly through the side door and out into the painfully bright Tatooine sunshine.
When we were well outside the cantina and it didn't seem that the stormtroopers had followed us, I told Luke he'd have to sell his speeder in order to pay Solo the deposit.
"That's okay, I'm never coming back to this planet again," he replied listlessly.
Be careful what you say, I thought in response, remembering my own comments about Tatooine during our fateful trip here with the Queen of Naboo, the trip where we'd met Anakin: We could be stuck here for a really long time. Indeed.
When we got back to Luke's landspeeder, I left him with the responsibility of finding a buyer, something that would not be hard to do on the streets of Mos Eisley. "I have something I need to attend to," I told him, "I won't be long."
Luke looked at me quizzically, but didn't protest, so I hurried off. There was one last thing I needed to do before I left the planet and I didn't want Luke to be with me when I did it.
Walking quickly away from the cantina, I turned down a side street and then entered a large open plaza. Across the way I could see what I was looking for: a public communications station. Holding my hood tightly around my face I made my way across the plaza and into the small booth. Once inside, I quickly found the option for sending an inter-system text message and composed a brief note. I then dialed up a public message service on Sullust, inserted the required currency, sent off the message, and exited the booth, heading back to find Luke.
Two days from now, if Yoda did not hear from me at our next appointed time, he would check the service on Sullust where we each still rented mailboxes. The message he would find was innocuous enough that it would have no trouble bypassing the Imperial scrutiny here on Tatooine. It read simply:
I've started teaching again. Hope to see you soon.Yours, O.W.