"Luke!"
Rolling over on his bunk, Luke groaned loudly in protest.
"Luke! Get up!"
Yawning, Luke reluctantly sat up and ran his hands through his messy, sandy blond hair. It couldn't be time to get up already, he thought.
"Luke! Let's go!" Owen Lars' weathered face appeared in the doorway of Luke's room.
Still yawning, the young farmboy slid out of bed and dressed, meeting his uncle in the hall minutes later. Luke was annoyed. He didn't want to spend his day in Anchorhead looking for a few scrap parts. He felt his uncle was unfairly punishing him for all the racing he'd been doing.
"We have a lot to get done today; let's go."
Luke silently followed Owen outside, casting harsh glances his way. They climbed into the old V35 landspeeder, Owen grumbling under his breath.
"What was that, Uncle Owen?"
Owen didn't respond for a moment as he stared at Luke as if he was trying to figure out who he was.
"I said, whoever returned your skyhopper should have brought the other landspeeder back too," Owen finally answered as he accelerated the old speeder.
Luke didn't say anything. He didn't know what he could say that would make his uncle feel any better. Luke had no idea who had returned the skyhopper in the first place.
Arriving in Anchorhead, they found it already bustling, even though it was early morning. There were moisture farmers from the surrounding regions, shopping for repair parts, hiring labor, and trying to sell their shares.
For those farmers without contracted buyers, selling could be difficult. The Lars' sold their harvest to a broker who made more off reselling but the Lars' were guaranteed a sale and a price, and Luke knew his uncle liked those conditions.
Owen pulled in at the end of a row of parked landspeeders-each in varying condition of wear-and he led the way as they entered the supply depot where they came for their replacement parts. The shop was packed with farmers and Owen sighed loudly, expressing his impatience with the noisy crowd.
Luke sighed as well, and followed as Owen moved to stand in place in the winding line of customers. Luke secretly enjoyed examining the different pieces of machinery, trying to figure out how each piece worked in the larger picture.
The shop, The Anchorhead Depot, was where everyone in the region came for replacement parts for moisture farming equipment. They had the largest supply, and usually the best prices. The shop was run out of an old ramshackle building that looked as if it would fall down if hit by a slight breeze. Appearances were deceiving, however, and the structure, thus far, had withstood the elements.
Inside the depot it was a mechanics dream. Shelves lined every single wall to the ceiling, and were also lined up on the floor space, creating a maze of overwhelming proportions as every shelf was piled with parts and pieces for moisture farming. On the back wall was a counter that ran the length of the building, and behind that counter were more shelves stacked high with even more parts. Also behind the counter were three of the shop owner's sons, running orders and selling parts to all the farmers of the region.
"Luke, go find a recycler. One to fit the Yig Model vaporator," Owen suddenly barked at Luke, angrily eying the length of the line.
Luke nodded reluctantly and wove his way through the scruffy farmers, eliciting hard looks and knocks upside his head as he bumped and excused himself through the cramped shop. He finally found the shelves of recyclers near the front of the line.
Luke was concentrating on his search for the Yig Model recycler when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. He paused, turning very slowly and was quite surprised to find himself face to face with True. He felt his face relax as a stupid grin formed.
"Luke, I thought that was you," True smiled.
"What are you doing here? You don't have a farm!" Luke questioned, immediately feeling stupid for blurting out such a dumb statement.
True shrugged. "No. My father, as I told you, is a creator. He's working on something new that requires some of the parts sold only here. So, here we are," she smiled at him again but Luke's face darkened in response.
"Your father is here?" He asked, peeking around True as if he would know who the man was if he saw him.
"Don't worry, Luke. Everything is fine," Luke returned his eyes to True's face, but he thought her smile seemed more forced.
Luke offered a slight smile, touching her upper arm in a gesture of comfort and caring. True's face relaxed as she reached up to grasp Luke's hand, and holding it in her own the two teens stared at each other-the busy shop disappearing around them, if only for a moment.
"Luke!"
Cringing, Luke looked away from True's pale blue eyes and saw his Uncle Owen coming towards them. Many of the men in the winding line were watching with interest, Owen's yell silencing the shop for a moment. Several of the waiting farmers were trying to hide smiles, while others stared at Luke and True with distrust and disgust.
"I had to ask Kit Luwet to hold my spot in line. What are you doing standing around?" Owen, very frustrated, seemed not to see True standing right next to him.
"Hello, Mr. Lars," True spoke up, while Luke stared dumbly at his uncle.
Owen started at the sound of True's voice, and forcing a smile that resembled a grimace of pain more than a grin of pleasure, he nodded in acknowledgment.
"True," he croaked.
The three of them stood there for a moment, True still gripping Luke's hand tightly. The rest of the shop must have decided the show was over and the noise level increased to previous levels as the men waiting lost interest in the little scene before them.
"Luke, get the recycler and le-," Owen began but was interrupted by a booming voice.
"True! Who are your friends?"
A large man with a full head of bushy blond hair came up behind True. He placed his large, neatly manicured hands on her shoulders and immediately True released Luke's hand. Luke watched as True's expression faltered and her eyes became somewhat guarded and fearful.
"Owen Lars," Owen offered his weathered, calloused hand to the stranger.
"Lars, you own the acreage out near the Dune Sea, nice property," the man grasped Owen's hand, his large hand engulfing it. "Fell Knightley, True's father," he smiled, his eyes moving to Luke.
"Is this your son?" he asked, releasing Owen's hand and indicating towards Luke.
"My nephew, Luke Skywalker," Owen responded.
Fell nodded slowly and reached out to shake Luke's hand. His eyes were staring straight into Luke, a strange smile on his face.
Luke nodded and forced a smile that he hoped was convincingly friendly while he let his hand be grasped and shook by a man who represented everything he and his uncle hated.
True's eyes had changed from fearful to sad and pleading, but Luke didn't know what she wanted him to do. She opened her mouth to say something but before she formed a single word her father was once again speaking, his voice loud and commanding.
"True, we should be going. I think Mr. Lars here, and Luke, probably have some work to do today. Good day, gentlemen," Fell gave a slight bow, catching Luke and Owen by surprise. They reciprocated the action, and Luke felt like a complete idiot doing it.
Luke and True said a silent goodbye and then they were gone; Fell pulling True behind him and disappearing into the mass of humanity in the shop.
"Nice man," Owen said. Luke considered telling his uncle what he knew of Fell Knightley, but then decided against it. He didn't want to start another fight with his uncle and he didn't want to run the risk of being forbidden to see True again.
Awhile later, after resuming their place in line and purchasing the additional parts they needed to repair the condensers and vaporators, they were once again in the old V35 heading back to the farm Owen Lars had inherited from his father.
They rode in silence, Luke lost in thoughts of True, curious about her behavior in the shop, but mostly wondering when they might reenact the moment they had shared in the cave-a kiss.
"Are you and that True-girl-ah…close?" Owen asked, breaking the silence of the trip.
Luke turned to his uncle his mouth agape, almost disbelieving that he was being asked that question, especially by his uncle.
"We're friends," Luke responded guardedly, offering nothing more personal.
Owen simply nodded and though he appeared to want to say more, he didn't. The remainder of the trip back to the homestead they were again silent, which suited Luke fine.
It was the middle of the night; that much Luke could tell. He couldn't remember what had awakened him. Had it been a dream? He tried desperately to remember. Then he heard it; a soft thud just outside the door to his room. The silence following was deafening.
Luke sat up in his bunk, his thoughts traveling to his aunt and uncle down the hall, wondering if they were murdered in their bunk. He strained to listen, but all he heard was the rushing of the blood pulsing through his veins. He sat frozen. He had no idea what to do, or if there was anything he could do.
Silently slipping off his bunk, Luke pulled a utility tool from his belt lying on the floor and backed against the wall. The door to Luke's bunk slowly slid open and Luke, gripping the weapon tightly, raised it over his head ready to strike the intruder.
Slowly a shadowed head leaned into the room and Luke tensed his muscles preparing to attack. He stopped when the intruder spoke; a soft, female voice that Luke recognized immediately.
"Luke?"
Unaware that he'd been holding his breath, Luke exhaled loudly and dropped the utility tool to the floor, creating a loud thud. The shadow in the doorway turned Luke's direction and Luke reached forward, pulling True into the room and sliding the door shut again.
"What are you doing here? How did you get in?" he asked in a flustered whisper. He was suddenly very aware that he was half naked, dressed only in his sleeping bottoms.
"I followed one of my father's men here." True paced the tiny room; "I was afraid things would go this way," she added as she seated herself on Luke's bunk.
"What do you mean?" Luke questioned, uneasy about what the answer might be.
But there was no answer. Luke moved and sat next to True on the bunk.
"Why is he interested in my uncle's farm?" He pressed.
"He's not interested in the farm; it's you," True said. Luke straightened his back, more confused than ever.
"What? Me? Why?"
"This is my fault. I tried. I hoped your uncle wouldn't say your name," True continued, turning her head to look at Luke.
"My name? What does my name have to do with anything?" Luke asked, perplexed.
"Please don't ask," she turned her head to Luke and he could see her eyes glistening in the dark. "I never thought-," she started, than stopped and put her hands to her face.
Luke, feeling as much the awkward teenage boy that he was, had no idea what to do. He didn't have to dwell on the decision long however, as True suddenly embraced him tightly. Her tears were hot against Luke's bare skin. He gently returned the embrace, wanting to question her further but afraid of upsetting her more. Luke held her until her tears subsided and her breathing returned to normal.
"I'm sorry. There's just so much you don't know, and so much I feel you should know; but should I tell you? It may put you in more danger than you already are. I was able to stop the man who came tonight and I'll do whatever I have to, to stop my father," True spoke with conviction as she pulled back from Luke.
Their faces were inches apart, and Luke felt her light breath on his face. Her statements had strengthened his burning questions, but he found his mind singular in its intention. He wanted to kiss her.
"I'm afraid of what-," she started again, but Luke didn't let her finish. Their lips met and Luke felt her tension melt away as they melted into one.
"What should we do with him?"
Luke and True were standing in the hall just outside Luke's room. The man that had broken into the Lars' homestead was lying dead in the hall, the soft thud Luke had heard had been him falling to the floor.
Luke had checked and found his aunt and uncle soundly sleeping. Their room was located further down the hall, and with all the excitement they had not stirred.
"Do you think you can help me carry him up?" Luke asked, turning to True. She had calmed down considerably, and Luke decided to hold off on his questions until the next day.
"Sure," True responded, and the two of them grabbed either end of the dead man, Luke grasping the upper body, True carrying the legs. They slowly moved towards the entryway out to the top, where Luke found the locking mechanism of the door had been tampered with.
Luke and True crossed the dark desert floor. The light issued by the stars cast deep blue shadows. They struggled to carry the body to Luke's skyhopper where they, very gracelessly, lifted the body into the cockpit of the vehicle.
"Wait for me," Luke said to True as he climbed into his beloved skyhopper.
Luke directed his skyhopper towards Beggar's Canyon, intent on burying this man in the cave that he and the others had used as shelter from the sandstorm. It felt a little eerie for Luke, steering through the darkened desert with a dead body. Adding that to the fear of sandpeople that had been instilled in Luke since he was old enough to know the difference and it made for a fairly stressful journey.
Approaching the dark canyon, Luke was awed to fly in it blindly. It was as if the light from the distant stars couldn't reach the bottom of the canyon. Using his feelings, Luke stopped when he felt he was close, and exiting his skyhopper he was impressed with himself to see that he was in precisely the right spot; the cave entrance appearing like a black hole in the grayish canyon wall.
Luke struggled to pull the heavy man from the skyhopper-finding the task more difficult by himself. Straining and grunting, Luke managed to pull the man's upper body out of the skyhopper before he had to stop and catch his breath.
"A little late for a race through Beggar's Canyon, isn't it?"
Luke, who had been resting his head against the side of the skyhopper, spun around so quickly he almost fell from the sudden dizziness.
The shadowy figure raised his hands in a sign of peace. "It's okay. I mean you no harm. Though really I should be the one afraid. You are, after all, apparently trying to get rid of a dead body."
Luke, unsure of how to respond to this new development, gave a nervous laugh.
"Relax, Luke. Let me help," the stranger moved forward, grasped the dead man's body and seemingly without effort, pulled him from the skyhopper.
"How do you know me?" Luke asked, watching the stranger pull back the heavy hood that was obscuring his features. But as the words left his mouth Luke recognized the man. It was the old wizard his uncle had warned him from seeing; Ben Kenobi.
"I see you got your ship back," the old wizard observed, ignoring Luke's question.
"I know you…," Luke blurted, though he knew they had never formally met. The old man smiled at Luke, then nodded towards the man lying motionless on the canyon floor.
"What's this about?"
"I'm not sure," Luke responded. Though he was somewhat leery about sharing his tale with this man who he'd never spoken to until now, he felt himself oddly comforted by his presence. He felt calmed, like he could trust this man, and before Luke could stop himself he had recalled the entire tale from when he first saw True until this moment.
"And now I know it was you who dug us out of the cave too, wasn't it?" Luke asked after the tale was told.
The old man offered a slight nod, but his expression didn't change from one of pensive thought. Luke watched as he absently stroked his gray beard with one hand and stared at the man dead on the ground.
"Luke, you must go. I will take care of this man. Go home, and say nothing to your Uncle. I'll take care of everything," Ben Kenobi suddenly spoke, laying his heavy hand on Luke's shoulder. Luke stared at the old man, unsure.
"Go," Ben prodded, more gently.
Luke stood his ground for a moment longer, than climbed reluctantly into his skyhopper and sped back to the homestead as fast as he dared.