To the negative guest reviewer who continue to comment on my stories (and lastly this one) complaining about me not writing the DC; are you done? If you're going to curse me out and tell me to delete my stories, at least do it under an actual username instead of an anonymous review. EU Luke AIN'T perfect; if you actually read the novels, you'll know that. But nevertheless, if you'd like to use complete sentences to enlighten me to why I should like DC more and leave out the passive aggression and profanity, I'll also leave your reviews up. As it is, pusillanimity and cowardice will continued to be laughed at and then deleted with one swift stroke. Your incel toxic stench is radiating per usual. Go shower and touch grass.
Sorry to everyone else. This incel have been harassing me for months on my other stories (Ik because everyone of the sentences are worded the exact same). I got tired of ignoring it.
Chapter 4
'Yep, the place is the same as it was.'
Luke actually found humor in the situation as he traveled through the Dune Sea of Tatooine. In hindsight, he wished that he changed his robes to something more fitting for the desert, but it was nothing that a little drink couldn't fix.
At the same time, Luke almost forgotten what it was like to be on Tatooine. Tatooine might not be a den of scum and villainy equal to Hutta and Nar Shaddaa, however that didn't say much. Not so curiously, no one tended to mention the small among of vapor farmers just living a casual life all over the planet and thriving from the times Czerka had a mining operation, the Hutts, followed by the time the Sith controlled the planet.
Being on Tatooine, attuned in the Force, made it all worse what was felt in Luke's opinion. He wasn't blind when it came to the suffering people endured under the Hutts, but he couldn't do nothing as a child and teenager, just a moisture farmer like his uncle and trying to keep the safety around the farm, while being watched by Obi-Wan Kenobi from afar.
In Luke's time, since the departure of Jabba, the city gained a new reputation: as a respectable and law-abiding, bustling town. It stayed a center of trade on the planet and a welcome rest stop for travelers seeking to trek into the deadly Dune Sea nearby. A Golden Age.
The Mos Espa of now was anything but. A person living in idealism would call it a tiny town. Mos Espa was an expansive spaceport and rested near the Dune Sea. It consisted of the dome-roofed, adobe buildings found in cities across Tatooine, and did indeed appeared as a great, twisting snake, hunkered down to escape the heat.
"I sense you're angry," Qui-Gon Jinn noted, not with judgment nor apathy, but pointing it out. Simply a fact.
"Yes, I am," Luke replied resolutely, truthfully.
"We cannot solve every problem in the galaxy, shameful as it is," Qui-Gon replied, keeping his face forward, his form the perfect mask of calm.
"No, but you can minimize it," he declared, slowly starting to understand the problems with the Jedi of this time.
The Maverick shook his head. "Violence does not solve conflict. It could worsen it in the long run. Many will die if we do what you recommend."
"That is true," he acknowledged, not above admitting that much, "but there would be a chance for a brighter future. Jedi are meant to serve the interests of the galaxy, the will of the Force, not just the Republic and whatever they consider as relevant. That's wrong."
"It is," Qui-Gon nodded slowly, "but it'll be far too difficult to do so much."
"It's not so cut and dry, Qui-Gon. I understand that the Jedi cannot just reveal themselves to the slavers who'll hang their heads and apologize, release the slaves, and the Jedi can begin pull funding, housing, and jobs for the freed slaves out of their and the Republic's collective without a hitch. But brushing off and accepting bribes is easier than the enormous amount of effort, funding, resources, and lives it would take to actually SOLVE the problem."
"Not to mention the too much effort. Not only would it risk the slaves' who would die, but Jedi who could fall to the Dark Side-some due to emotional involvement."
A possible consequence, Luke understood, but it would also raise self-control and ironically teach their students discipline that the Jedi tried to harden themselves.
"The problem is the Jedi preached that they travel down the long and harder path to become better Jedi at the end. The purpose of the Jedi is to protect those without the ability to protect themselves, and the slaves fit that bill exquisitely. I have come to accept that some degree of suffering is inexorable, and that permitting oneself to linger on it only ends in paralysis."
Qui-Gon looked at him. He searched for an argument but decided to alter the subject. "Why didn't you do something last time?"
He did, but not in the way, or time, one would expect... "I didn't have the means to. I was not... powerful enough."
A stench filled the air, assaulting their nostrils as they entered inside of the city.
"What's that?" The girl inquired behind them, covering her nose with a sleeve.
Luke scrunched his nose in disdain and pity as he walked over to the source. "Rotten bodies of the dead. They were... kids too."
"What?!" she exclaimed in fury.
"This is how life is on Tatooine if you're not fortunate," he educated, kneeling to the burnt kids, scarred beyond recognition, nothing of ashes and bones just like... them on that terrible day in the homestead. He'd really wished he appreciated Owen and Beru more. The two raised him in a loving home. That was more than he could say most children here could ever say.
He recalled when after he'd received his medals and leaving Yavin IV, breaking down privately. It had been a shock. All at once, it came crashing down. He'd cried for Owen and Beru. For Obi-Wan. For Biggs. For his former life. It had taken a while for the shock to set in, but when his numbness won out, which still happened occasionally like now... he missed them. Grew to understand Owen even. The man just wanted to protect him after seeing what his father was capable of. Bit stern, but still loving. Read him bedtime stories when he was younger, and Luke repaid him by defiance and disobedience.
Their skeletal forms left an implant in his mind, embedded so deeply that it may never go away. Killed by some Stormtroopers in the search for Artoo and Threepio.
Ultimately, he'd missed both, but Beru was the one who was a harsher pill to swallow. It never mattered to her about whether or not Luke was her son. She loved him and wanted the best for him. Her compassion, gentle, and kind nature rubbed off Luke mostly-he liked to think. It took so long for it to set in, but when he sharpened into a Jedi, he recalled everything she'd taught him throughout the years, her generosity to those who deserve it, defenses against those who may wish to exploit it.
"Where to now?" his mother asked, her voice strained and disgusted, snapping him out of those thoughts.
Luke reached out for the presence of his father, wanting to make sure they were going in the right direction. The current passed, and he motioned with a finger pointing. "That way."
A few minutes later they entered in front of a shop, which had a mini selection of parts and few droids on public show outside.
"Clients!" A deep voice accessed from inside, followed by the familiar sounds of the wings. "Welcome to Watto's!" A smug-alluring Toydarian flapped to meet them. "What can I do for ya?!"
"A hyperdrive motivator and some other spare parts for starter," Qui-Gon answered.
The shop-owner stared up and down at the newcomers, the greed flashing through his eyes. Taking in Luke's appearance, then Qui-Gon's, then his mother behind him, he could detect the opportunity that walked right into his shop. Watto grinned. Their clothes shown how wealthy they may seemed, and he was going to help them with any money problems they may have!
"I'm sure I would have what you need! Ship and hyperdrive model, you say? No problem!" Watto stated. "What is the ship model?"
"A J-type 327 Nubian," Luke replied, looking into the aura from the Toydarian. Cruel. Borderline merciless. Greedy. Very likely, he would think about a way to benefit from this. Typical.
"Nubian you say? You're not from here? Perfect!" Watto pressed. "Boy, come here! We've got important clients!" He looked back. "Yes, I can help you. I know we've got a motivator for that drive of yours. The other parts... I'm sure we'll think of something."
Small feet dashed over, and Luke spotted... him. His father, freshly adorned in what could be little referred to as clothes. His father should have been... innocent, and in some ways he was, but he felt something twisting in his gut. The boy was smaller for his size than what he should have... than Luke had been for that age. Incredibly malnourished.
"Master? Do you need something?" He asked, and while his voice didn't show it entirely, he could detect the timidness.
"He'll get you what you need. Now, about payment... we accept..." Watto started.
"Master?" Luke repeated the word in a distant tone. There was no sight of the warmth or patience he had spoken with earlier. Watto startled for a moment and glared at his mechanic.
"Uh... what's up?" Anakin smiled apprehensively. He looked at the visitors. The man in the dark robes, finding himself scrunching his nose in curiosity as he stared at the man who was staring at him so intensely. A connection that went deep.
Anakin blinked when he saw the teenager girl. "Are you an angel?"
"What?" she asked, caught off-guard.
"An angel. I've heard the deep space pilots ta-..." Before he could dissolve into a tangent in describing them, he was interrupted.
"Boy!" Watto snapped and his wings flapped angrily. It was Skywalker again. Little brat always causing some mischief. He charged forward, threatening to strike, only to stop mid-air and scowl.
"Sorry, ma'am." Skywalker shook himself from the daze and jumped up. "Master!"
"Master..." The dark-robed human repeated the word tightly.
Watto didn't like that even darker tone of voice at all and he turned to face the potential client. "Is that a problem, human?" He kept his tone professional and sharp, knowing that conflicts occasionally happened. Could always just spill in on the Hutts there was a troublemaker later!
Luke Skywalker, on the other hand, felt something he didn't felt for quite a while. He was described as many things by others at certain points: dreamy, impulsive, impatient, and easily distracted, but not nimbly prone to anger. Some even believed it was impossible for the Jedi Master and former Commander of the Rebel Alliance to hold anger in his heart. There was one thing however that kept him. Both a weakness and a strength: his connection to his loved ones.
Truthfully, he never liked to hold any malice or ill intent in his heart to any, but sensing those scars, the years of trauma on his father alone, the manifestations that would later bottle up into Darth Vader, it drove overprotective fury forward. This was a lapse from the collected Jedi Master that many would think of him always composing.
"In fact, yes, yes, it is," he answered acidly.
"I'm sorry to hear that. If you want a slave, you could go purchase one at the slave market." Watto dismissed with some snideness. "If it's something my mechanic did, perhaps his mother can-"
Now, time to bite the bolt powder...
"You will deactivate his and his mother's slave chip." It was not a request, but a demand. A demand that would be followed. Everyone was capable of anger, Luke Skywalker knew, even him. He wasn't the perfect saint that the galaxy may paint him as, that his father probably liked to believe. He couldn't always remain willful and strong in times of peril.
Watto sneered, "Excuse me."
The Jedi Master ignored Qui-Gon's frown. "You will deactivate his and his mother's slave chip." He repeated passionately. "Or I will." He leveled him with a glare. "And if you try anything, just know I'll sense it and there will be another problem."
Now, something snapped within the Toydarian. "I don't know who you think you are! But you're not welcomed here! Get the hell out!" He barked. A part of Luke mentally cursed himself.
"Luke..." Qui-Gon said warningly while Padmé's jaw dropped behind him.
He replied collectively. "I will give you an ultimatum. Free them or I will take matters into my own hands and do so myself."
"This is not how we solve our conflicts," Qui-Gon reprimanded, gripping his shoulder in the attempt to calm Luke.
"How what you call normal Jedi solve their conflicts," he stated icily, pulling away from him. "Two human beings are strapped to explode. We swore an oath to the people, to the galaxy, not just those in Republic's space."
Qui-Gon didn't gave up that easily, however. No doubt, he now viewed it as a mistake to allow Luke to come along. He understood. "You were the one who said discretion is the better part of valor."
Despite his tone and his eyes burning sharply, none of his anger was directed at the Jedi Master. He'd known his father was a slave but seeing and sensing what his father had been through, it was more difficult than just hearing it. Years of beatings, of pain, suffering...
Did his father even have time to see a mind healer to work out his issues?
First, his sister, now his father...
Morality was a sweet word, but it didn't apply to the type of life many lived.
"I am altering the term," Luke declared. "Hope I don't alter it any further."
Anakin Skywalker looked up with awe. Padmé Naberrie looked conflicted. Qui-Gon Jinn stared at him, gripping the side of his slave collar.
"This isn't your Republic out h-here!" Watto shrieked in fear and vexation.
"The Jedi do not belong to the Republic. As a protector of the people of the Core and Outer Rim, I deem your actions as unlawful and unjust. An art permitted for far too long."
"Y-your Order would he-h-hear from this by the H-Hutts!" The Toydarian vowed pathetically, recovering the slave chips, and at Luke's slight tilt of the head to Padmé, the Toydarian apprehensively handed it over. He was tempted to activate the chips and blow both Skywalkers to pieces, but it was better to allow the Hutts to deal with the problem and regain them both later than get himself killed.
His pale-blue eyes conveying many emotions, none of them positive, Luke nodded slightly. The Toydarian's eyes drawn on him, four different eyes conveying different things: the hunted preyed upon by the hunter.
"Wait, me and mom is really free?!" Anakin inquired, deactivating the slave transmitters.
Luke beckoned to him, smiling now. "Come here, my little friend, don't be afraid."
Anakin obeyed, a sprint in his jump as he came next to the angel.
Watto opened his mouth, no doubt preparing for a snide remark. He sprung forward, his eyes narrowed at Anakin. Instead, he found himself struggling against an invisible weight. He felt as if he were accelerating to lightspeed with a faulty inertial compensator.
"I'm sure you're not considering threatening the youngling."
He pointed at the top of the ceiling and made a tapping motion with his finger. The durasteel support rings gave a loud whumpf.
"Because you really don't want to see me angry." Luke made the tapping motion again. The rings emitted a metallic shriek and dropped in front of him. "And I think you're smart enough to know that."
Luke tapped a last time, and the rings collapsed with a low loud crump, depositing the Toydarian on the floor with his feet sticking out in front of him like a child.
"But if you want to try me, go ahead and make that threat." He lowered his hand, and the weight vanished from Watto's chest. He could have leapt up to attack - to try to restore his dignity at having his properties stolen from him - but the Toydarian's survival instincts kicked in. He was no longer in control.
Arthur's note: I had reread some parts of the EU novels and wow Luke does have a temper. Not that raging temper that you would expect of one, but a calm one. He doesn't shout as much. He just stares at you coldly. When his Jedi Master personality had time to solidify, Luke was very reserved and humble, sometimes both of those to the extreme. Later when he became Grandmaster Luke, he basically became a living definition for not poking a sleeping dragon, since it's remarkably difficult to push his buttons enough for Luke to lose his temper, but once you actually manage it, oh it makes Vader look less scary in comparison. As a matter of fact, I took inspiration from when Luke confronted Darth Caedus in him confronting Watto (even if I don't like the concept but I have to admit it was a badass moment for the EU).
PS, Luke pretty much became Beru by the end of ROTJ and in the EU especially. I continue to mention the Larses because it's a shame they were pretty much only used for plot convenience and nothing else when watching people, you cared about get burnt to death would leave some form of PTSD. Both deserve more recognition for raising him right.
May the Force be with you all always.