Dear Qui-Gon,
I am sure that you have been watching over the events of the past few days, since they have been the most harrowing and dangerous of my time here on Tatooine. Clearly I have come out of it unscathed, for am able to write these words! But I find the transcription to be just as helpful as meditation in making sense of my new life here under the twin suns, and I am sure you will want to know what I was thinking. It was a risk, and perhaps Qui-Gon you approve of me. I know Yoda was not impressed, as he so informed me during our most recent commune. But I recall your wont to gamble, particularly when the stakes are high, and flatter myself that you would have made the same choices.
But I am getting ahead of myself. I took your advice regarding the issue at the Lars farm and spent my days is distant observation. Of course I continued to visit Beru and Luke every few days and did not question her as she indicated when my presence would not be required. She was full of easy excuses – visits planned by her sister Dama in Anchorhead or her friends the Darklighter's at their own nearby farm.
On those days I made sure to sequester myself on the nearest ridge armed with drinking water, a hat and a pair of macrobinoculars. The conditions were harsh but I was determined not to move from my position in case I missed some vital clue which would reveal the reason for the Lars' distress.
I watched Owen tend to the barren fields where the moisture vaporators pulled what little they could from the atmosphere. It was harvest season and Owen was busy, toiling away all the daylight hours with the few droids he had for assistance. Although I know little about farming to my eyes the harvest seems bountiful, which was at odds with the family's impoverished conditions. This solidified in my mind that there were external forces at play, and I watched all visitors to the homestead over the course of a week.
Most I recognized – Dama Whitesun, Huff Darklighter and his young son Biggs, the Loneozner couple who ran Tosche station. I had vetted all of those in Beru's circle, although I had never met any of them other than in passing in Anchorhead – Owen did not think it best to introduce me and I agreed. They were simple folk who would not question Owen and Beru's story about poor Shmi's son, who had been making his living out in the stars and left behind an infant boy. Luckily Anakin had been a secret Shmi had kept close to her heart, and news of the Clone Wars had been scant to reach Tatooine. These desert-dwellers seemed to take no side, and had no concern for the galaxy falling apart outside their borders. Many of them had never even heard of the Jedi, let alone The Hero with No Fear or his origins among them. The only connection these people have with the name Skywalker was Shmi, and the fact that Luke inherited her name was unsurprising and of little interest to them.
However, there was one set of visitors that gave me cause for concern. They came from the Dune Sea, a human male wearing rancor hide and a bulky Gammorean in a dusty speeder. Owen saw them too, and I watched him hurry down from the south ridge so he could make it inside the homestead.
I was anxious to join them as well, but clearly Owen and Beru had not wanted my help. I had to reason that there was just cause for this, and I would perhaps walk into a situation without knowing that facts and therefore make the matter worse. Although I desperately wanted to know what was happening inside that homestead I forced myself into inaction – to watch and to wait.
The visitors stayed perhaps half an hour, although it seemed like a lifetime. When they left it was towards Anchorhead, although the plains between the Lars homestead were too open and if I followed I would surely be detected. I readied Rooh for travel, and waited until I sighted the speeder again some time later, travelling back across the Dune Sea and through the Jundland Wastes. Rooh was thankfully swift, eager for the run after a day of inactivity.
When the speeder docked at the great palace of Jabba the Hutt, I was unsurprised. Who else could be responsible for such suffering, leaving Owen and Beru without recourse? In my isolation I had forgotten how cruelly the Hutts ruled Tatooine, although I had thought the Lars' small farm would be beneath their notice – evidently not.
I watched Jabba's goons over several days, making the rounds in Anchorhead and the surrounding farms. It was extortion, pure and simple, and I no longer wondered why Beru's storecupboard was bare. And yet what could I do about it, without exposing my identity and threatening Luke's safety? However I knew I could not stand idly and allow it to continue – I needed to formulate a plan.
When I next visited Beru I waited for her to relax, pretending not to notice her gaunt face or that she had no tea to offer me. I had been to Anchorhead and used the last of my credits to buy supplies – cured bantha meat, flatbreads and dune beans. I placed the food on the table and took Luke from Beru, commanding her to eat.
"You look as thin as a Kaminoan," I told her in a tone that did not warrant argument.
However this did not stop Beru. "You presume too much, Ben," she said softly, with her eyes downcast.
"No," I told her. "I presume just enough."
"It is not our way to accept charity," Beru's voice was brittle, and when she looked up at me her eyes were bright with tears. "And yet I am grateful, for Luke's sake."
"It's not for Luke," I told her, bouncing the young boy in the crook of my arm. As usual, he had stuck his sticky fingers into my beard, but I tolerated it for my attention was for his caregiver. "I can see he is well fed, I suspect with food meant to be shared between all three of you."
Beru nodded, although she seemed not to have heard me. "Owen has been working so hard in the fields, he will appreciate the extra strength this will provide."
"It's not for Owen either," I told her sternly. "At least not all of it. I am going to sit here until you eat a decent meal, Beru."
In the end she took little convincing – probably from her obvious hunger which had left her weak and frail. She took small bites of the flatbread, as if rationing the meal to last as long as possible. Then she ate the dune beans one by one, and finally she cut off a slice of the cured bantha meat and nibbled on it like a bird.
"I know about Jabba," I said when she had finished eating to my satisfaction.
Beru paled and trembled, struggling to maintain her composure. "What do you mean?"
"I mean the two goons who came to see you last week," I told her. "Who then visited the Darklighters and the Gamoots and the Loneozners and the Sunseekers. It is they who have been taking a cut from your harvest, and leaving you with barely anything to live on. Isn't it?"
Beru nodded, nervously patting down the braids in her hair. "Our farm used to be too small to bother with, but the harvest was good this year." She sighed, and I could sense she was relieved to unburden herself. "Owen tried to explain that we have an extra mouth to feed now with Luke, but it was no use. They say that Jabba protects us from the Empire, and so we must show our gratitude."
Luke had started to whimper in my arms, his keen senses picking up on his aunt's distress. I soothed him by brushing back his soft hair and sending a calming wave through the Force.
"And if you don't pay?" I asked.
Beru bit her lip, taking a moment before answering, clearly upset. "The Sandspinners a few farms over refused, and a squad of stormtroopers raided their homestead only a week later."
Of course Jabba was in collusion with the Imperial forces, I realised. They wanted use of the trading routes in Hutt space, and so likely permitted him to continue to govern as he saw fit, sending as squad troops when he asked to do whatever dirty work required of them.
"So you see you cannot help," Beru insisted. "There is nothing you can do."
"There is always something to be done," I promised her, although the situation was difficult. I held Luke closer to me, and tried to soothe him further but the boy was agitated, flailing about in my arms and unwilling to be calmed. I soon found out the reason.
There was a great clattering from outside, and I heard the sound of heavy footsteps on stone. Owen ran into the room, red and panting, taking in my presence, and I felt a sharp spike of fear.
"Get out of here, Kenobi," he growled, stepped forward and roughly grabbing Luke, who had begun to cry in earnest. "They can't find you here."
"They are here?" Beru stood, her face stricken with fear. "But they are not due to collect until next week!"
"I don't know why," Owen said, grabbing my arm and leading me towards the back of the homestead. "I don't want any lip, Kenobi, go out the back way so you won't be seen."
I wasn't going to protest, but when I reached the rear entrance I found the way blocked by the Gammorean, who growled at me and pointed with his axe that I should return to the main room. When I did Beru was holding the bawling Luke to her chest, trying to soothe him while Owen was arguing with the human goon in rancor hide armor.
"Where'd you get the creds for this, eh?" Rancor-hide sifted through the remaining food I had brought on the table. "You been holding out on us, Lars?"
"It was a gift," Beru tried to explain.
"Ain't no one around here who can afford to buy you food," Rancor-hide ransacked the store cupboard to see what else he could find. The Gammorean behind me grunted, drawing Rancor-hide's attention. He narrowed his eyes as he turned, scrutinizing my appearance. "Who are you, then?"
Owen cleared his throat. "That's my brother, Ben. Visiting from Mos Espa."
"Bearing gifts?" Rancor-hide's smile was vicious. "So that's your Eopie outside, then?"
"That's right," I said, affecting the best 'Rim accent I could. I remember Anakin used to mimic my Coruscanti accent all the time as a boy, and when I tried to repay the favor he laughed and said I sounded like a dying frog.
Rancor-hide seemed similarly unconvinced, and he turned to Beru. "Is that right, little lady?" he leered at her. "Has your brother in law been bringing you gifts while your husband is working the farm?"
Owen lunged at Rancor-hide, but the goon was too quick for him, landing a punch to his cheek and sending him sprawling to the floor. I tried to assist, but found myself restrained by the Gammorean.
Rancor-hide laughed, and approached me with a smile that showed his yellowed teeth. "You know, I almost could believe you could be his brother," he said conversationally. "You look a bit alike. But I know you from somewhere else."
"Do you go to the podracing in Mos Espa?" I asked in a last-ditch attempt at misdirection. "I have a stall there."
"No," Rancor-hide shook his head, and retrieved a datapad from his robe. He spent a few minutes flicking through various pages, and my heart sank as I realised what he was doing. Owen had picked himself up from the floor and taken Beru and Luke into his arms, embracing them protectively and shooting me an accusing look from behind Rancor-hide's back.
"Here you are," Rancor-hide stopped scrolling through his datapad, and then held the screen up next to my face. "Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Knight. Wanted for high treason against the Empire. That's you, eh?"
"No," I told him firmly, planting the lie in his mind. "My name is Ben."
For a moment it almost worked, but Rancor-hide shook his head and cast off my Force probe. "Don't try anything funny, Jedi," he spat at me. "I've heard about you."
The wild thought crossed my mind that I should call my lightsaber from within my robes to my hand, and cut down Rancor-hide and his Gammorean friend. But that would be pointless, I realised. Jabba would only send more goons, and the Lars family would be punished. But if I could at least save them…
"Fine," I said to Rancor-hide. "I'll come quietly – but leave them alone." I nodded to Owen, Beru and Luke.
Rancor-hide laughed as if I'd told a particularly hilarious joke. "No way," he said. "You're all going to Jabba, because I think he'll be very interested to know why a Jedi is hiding out with moisture farmers."
The Gammorean squeezed my biceps and pushed me outside as Rancor-hide drew his blaster to force Owen and Beru to follow. Luke was screaming now, and Beru was frantically trying to calm him as they lead us outside to the speeder. I glanced over at Rooh and nodded at her to stay where she was – there was enough drinking water and shade for her at the homestead. Hopefully I would be able to return to retrieve her at some stage, but in that moment I feared I would never see the dear creature again.
As Beru was soothing Luke and Rancor-hide yelling at the Gammorean when the speeder false-started twice, Owen grabbed my arm and growled harsh words in my ear.
"This is why I told you to stay away."
