Star Wars Journal - The Fight for Justice by Luke Skywalker (4 page)

I’m feeling a little better now. But only a little.

It’s really hard, still, to accept the fact that my aunt and uncle are dead.

The stormtroopers killed them and burned the house down to the ground. They made it look like Tusken Raiders again, but it was an even flimsier cover job this time. It just isn’t like Sand People to attack a homestead. They don’t like enclosed spaces so they stay away from small buildings. Nobody except a stupid stormtrooper would think they’d do such a thing.

It’s hard not to feel like I failed them when they most needed me. If I’d been there, maybe I could have done something.

Of course, I might have been killed, too.

Ben says my survival is an example of the Force at work. He says the fact that I was not killed was not accidental. But rather, a miracle of the Force. That somehow, some cosmic Force was able to guide me out of harm’s way. He says I’m very strong in the Force, but untrained.

He’s started me on some exercises, ones he used to do with his students. It’s hard to get the hang of it, but every now and then I really feel like I’m starting to understand the Force—and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my aunt and uncle.

Maybe I’d had my disagreements with Uncle Owen, but I never doubted that he and Aunt Beru loved me. They’d always treated me like I was their own son. I remember one time—I must have been about six or seven—one of my friends teased me about not having a
real
father and mother. And Uncle Owen had said, proudly: “He
does
have a real father and mother. Nobody could love their boy more.” And that made me feel pretty good.

They were always like that. I remember Aunt Beru taking care of me when I had the dust fever. She stayed with me for days, cooling me down, feeding me even when I didn’t want to eat. It was like she was
willing
the fever to go down.

And now they would never do anything for me again. But I could do one last thing for them.

My purpose became clear: Darth Vader was an Imperial, a servant of the Emperor, and the murderer of my father. Other Imperials had just killed what was left of my family. If the Empire could declare war on the Skywalkers, then it was time for the last Skywalker to fight back.

Ben was all I had left now, the last link to my past, my father—and to my future.

Even amid all the tears and rage I felt as I stood by the graves, I also felt an odd sort of peace. Like seeking an end to this kind of violence was the
right
thing to do. Ben says that I felt the stirring of the Force then, and I hope he’s right. Because, for the first time in my life, I was absolutely certain of what to do.

I was going to help Ben, join the Rebellion, and overthrow the Empire! I was going to make Darth Vader and the Emperor sorry for what they had done. And, with a little luck, I was going to romance a princess…

Right.

But we all need dreams to inspire us, and they inspired me. I managed to wipe away the tears and let my anger simmer down as I drove the landspeeder back to Ben. He and the droids had started the funeral pyre, and more Imperial victims were being burned. There had been a lot of deaths, and it was time someone started to pay for it.

Ben knew what had happened before I told him. He also knew I’d been an idiot to go off alone like that. But he didn’t rub it in. He just waited, a terribly sad expression on his face. I told him what had happened, and how I should have been there to help Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.

Ben pointed out that I’d only have been killed, too. I knew that, but it didn’t alter the fact that I felt as if I’d left them to die.

I know here was no way I could have known in advance that the Imperials would go after my family. Until we’d heard that message in Ben’s house, none of us had a clue as to what was going on.

Actually, we still don’t. All we know is that Princess Leia Organa managed to put something inside Artoo that the Empire wants very badly. We don’t know what it is. Bail Organa on Alderaan will be able to get the information out and use it. All Ben and I have to do is see that the droid gets there safely. Then, maybe, we’ll find out what all of this is about.

Anyway, I told Ben some of this, and he nodded. He was glad I’d agreed to come along with him. I got the impression that he’d known, somehow, that I would. He told me how sorry he was, but that he was ready to teach me how to become a Jedi Knight, just like my father.

My father… I’m sitting here, holding his lightsaber. Ben’s been showing me how to hold it and use it. I’m starting to get the hang of it now, but I know I’ll need to get a lot better before I can actually use it in battle. It’ll be safer for me to stick with my blaster for the time being.

Ben isn’t telling me everything he knows about my father. And to tell the truth, it’s making me a little mad. I mean, he knew Anakin Skywalker for years, so he knows a lot. Most of it probably isn’t very interesting to him, but it’s stuff I’d love to know. Like, how did my father laugh? Was he always serious, or did he play jokes on people? What was most important to him? What did he like to eat for breakfast? Who were his other friends? Ben doesn’t understand why I want to know this stuff, I can tell.

And there’s something else, too. He was very… evasive… about how my father died. He only says that Darth Vader killed him. But he won’t say how. And, most important, he didn’t tell me where my parents are buried. I know it’s probably pointless, but I’d really like to visit their graves. I didn’t know them when they were alive, but maybe I’ll learn something just seeing how and where they’re buried.

Anyway, we set out together for Mos Eisley. I had nothing to hang around for. Almost everything I owned had been destroyed with my uncle’s house. All I had left was the landspeeder, the droids, the clothes I wore, my blaster, and my father’s lightsaber. Plus a few coins in my pockets. It wasn’t much, but it was something, at least.

I’d never seen Mos Eisley before. Actually, I’d never seen any place bigger than Anchorhead, and that’s only about twenty buildings. Mos Eisley was
huge
. There had to be thousands of buildings, and at the far edge was the spaceport, like a small city of its own. Ben had been here before, of course, so he knew what to do and where to go.

There were people and creatures everywhere. Species I’d never heard of before. Of course, I’ve seen aliens before. But not very many. There wasn’t any reason for them to swing past Anchorhead, so few of them ever did. Mos Eisley was filled with all sorts of strange characters—strange-looking, strange-talking, and strange-smelling.

I’m sure a lot of them felt the same way about me, too!

Ben saw me staring and obviously knew how I felt. He smiled and told me that Mos Eisley was one of the most depraved places in the galaxy. I could believe it. Most of the people and aliens looked very tough, and Ben told me that the port was rife with smugglers, thieves, and con men of all kinds.

It was also full of stormtroopers.

I’d never seen so many in one place before. There were
hundreds
of them, and they were checking everyone and everything. Once, I’d thought they looked invincible in their white armor; now, I was hoping I’d been wrong. Because these troopers were looking at me. And I’d seen what they did to people who got in their way. I started getting nervous and looked for a way out.

Ben calmed me down a little, explaining that it would attract attention if we tried to flee. Instead, he had me drive up to the closest checkpoint. I’ll admit, I was nervous as anything, pulling up next to the troopers, with their blasters set and ready. The men eyed Artoo and Threepio and wanted to know how long I’d had them. I was sure the troopers could sense my fear.

“Two or three seasons,” I lied, hoping Ben knew what he was doing.

Sweat was trickling down my back. I wanted to shudder, but did my best to look confused and casual. The troopers told us they were looking for stolen droids—which was obviously the story they’d dreamed up to explain what they were doing—and wanted to see my papers.

I did have papers, of course. Only there was a problem. They’d been burned in the house with my uncle and aunt.

Then Ben leaned forward. Staring directly at the stormtroopers, he told them in a low, intense voice that they didn’t need to see our papers.

Then the weirdest thing happened.

The troopers repeated what Ben said, and when Ben said we could move on, they acted like it was their idea and waved us forward.

I got us moving as fast as I could, but my mind was whirling. I had
no
idea what had just happened. Ben explained that I had witnessed the power of the Force. It can affect certain minds, he told me—weak minds—if you’re trained and they’re not. But it wouldn’t work on everyone, and it wouldn’t last forever. So we had to hurry.

Ben had me drive to a cantina he knew of. I didn’t ask how he knew about this place, but it obviously wasn’t the sort of establishment he ever hung around himself. It was seedy, filled with low-life types, and reeked of alcohol and low-grade motor oil. There was an alien band playing in the corner, and a bartender with an attitude problem the size of an asteroid.

The bartender was prejudiced against droids, and flatly refused to allow us in unless we left Threepio and Artoo outside. I’d heard of people being like that; I guess they’re bothered by the fact that droids are intelligent but artificial. I don’t understand the attitude myself, but some people get really defensive about droids.

Ben had me leave them outside to avoid any trouble. I was worried that something might happen to the droids in this town. Droid thefts aren’t unknown in the best of places, and this was far from the best of places.

It wasn’t just that we
had
to get Artoo to Alderaan. To be honest, I was getting kind of attached to the two droids. Threepio is a bit… I almost said
stiff-necked
, but that’s a given! He chatters on and on to the point where I have to shut him down to get any peace and quiet! But he has a good heart—or servo, or motivator, or whatever they call it. He constantly calls me
sir
, or
Master Luke
. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that I’m into titles. It’s just that I kind of like being treated with respect for a change.

As for Artoo—well, I know I should be annoyed with him for lying to me and running off. But he did it for a good reason, and if he hadn’t, I’d most likely be dead now, and he and Threepio would be spare parts. He seems like a cheerful sort of fellow, and imaginative, too.

If anything happened to the two of them, I’d miss them. Since they were both hijacked by Jawas, I don’t think I have any real title to them, but they feel like family droids, and thus my responsibility. I warned them to keep their eyes open and stay alert, and then I followed Ben into the cantina.

I was lost in the place. I stared around, realizing that there was a lot going on. People and aliens were sitting around talking, exchanging information and packages and other things. A lot of it had to be illegal, but it was being done right out in the open.

I must have looked like an easy target to some of the regulars there. I mean, staring around with an amazed expression on my face and all. A couple of heavy types came over to me. The human was nasty. I’m not even sure what his companion was; I’ve never seen an alien like him before. Anyway, they started to pick a fight with me for absolutely no reason.

I didn’t know what to do, and I guess that showed, too. They started to push and yell at me—and I just stood there and took it. What else could I do? I didn’t want to start a fight, and they weren’t listening to anything I had to say.

One of them shoved me to the floor and went for a blaster. And I could see that he intended to use it!

I don’t know what his problem was, but I suspect he was simply bored and wanted to kill somebody for fun.

It was scary, but I didn’t really have time to think about it. Ben came out of nowhere, and tried to calm the creeps down. It didn’t work, and the human went for his blaster again.

I’ve never in my life seen anything as fast as what happened next. Ben somehow had his own lightsaber out, and it was
slicing
before anyone had a chance to breathe. One swipe, and the man’s arm was cut off! His alien friend had time for a squeal before his chest was sliced, too.

I was just astounded at how fast Ben had moved. I’d barely blinked, and it was all over. He simply shrugged and promised me that one day I’d do the same, while also making it very clear that violence is to be used as a last resort. I can see why he’d be a great teacher.

Anyway, he’d found us a contact—a Wookiee named Chewbacca. You’d think I wouldn’t be shocked by anything at this point. But Chewie sure managed to surprise me. He’s one of the tallest beings I’ve ever seen in my life, and definitely the hairiest. Wookiees are all hair and fangs—and
muscles
. He was one tough-looking alien. Amazingly, Ben could actually speak a little of his language, so we could talk.

My first thought, looking at him, was that Chewie had to be some important guy’s bodyguard. He didn’t wear clothing—with all of that hair, he certainly didn’t need any!—but he had a bandolier slung over his shoulder, a blaster at his hip, and a bowcaster on his back. He was a walking showcase of muscle and weaponry. Talk about reeking of hired gun, I thought.

I was wrong.

It turned out that Chewie is the first mate of a Corellian stock light freighter named the
Millennium Falcon
. He was obviously a lot brighter than he looked, which taught me not to make snap judgments. He suggested that we wait while he found his captain, so Ben and I did just that. Aside from anything else, I wouldn’t want to argue with a Wookiee.

He was back pretty soon with a Corellian. They’re humans, and this one wasn’t that much bigger than I am, but… well, there’s something about him. He’s kind of cocky and self-assured, and more than a little flippant. But you can see, immediately, that he’s kind of special.

It’s in the way he holds himself, I guess. Like he knows the galaxy’s against him, and he doesn’t care. He’ll take whatever is thrown at him and come out swinging. He had a blaster, hung low on his hip, kind of gunfighter style, and a casual manner about his dress, his speech, and his way of doing things. This was Han Solo, captain of the
Millennium Falcon
.