star

A New Hope

II

　　It was an old settler's saying that you could burn your eyes out faster by staringstraight and hard at the sun-scorched flatlands of Tatooine than by looking directly atits two huge suns themselves, so powerful was the penetrating glare reflected fromthose endless wastes. Despite the flare, life could and did exist in the flatlandsformed by long-evaporated seabeds. One thing made it possible: the reintroductionof water.

　　For human purposes, however, the water of Tatooine was only marginallyaccessible. The atmosphere yielded its moisture with reluctance. It had to becoaxed down out of the hard blue sky-coaxed, forced, yanked down to the parchedsurface. Two figures whose concern was obtaining that moisture were standing on aslight rise of one of those inhospitable flats. One of the pair was stiff and metallic-a sand-pitted vaporator sunk securely through sand and into deeper rock. The figurenext to it was a food deal more animated, though no less sun-weathered.

　　Luke Skywalker was twice the age of the ten-year-old vaporator, but much lesssecure. At the moment he was swearing softly at a recalcitrant valve adjuster on thetemperamental device. From time to time he resorted to some unsubtle pounding inplace of using the appropriate tool. Neither method worked very well. Luke wassure that the lubricants used on the vaporator went out of their way to attract sand,beckoning seductively to small abrasive particles with an oily gleam. He wipedsweat from his forehead and leaned back for a moment. The most prepossessingthing about the young man was his name. A light breeze tugged at his shaggy hairand baggy work tunic as he regarded the device. No point in staying angry at it, hecounseled himself. It's only an unintelligent machine.

　　As Luke considered his predicament, a third figure appeared, scooting out frombehind the vaporator to fumble awkwardly at the damaged section. Only three of theTreadwell model robot's six arms were functioning, and these had seen more wearthan the boots on Luke's feet. The machine moved with unsteady stop-and-startmotions.

　　Luke gazed at it sadly, then inclined his head to study the sky. Still no sign of acloud, and he knew there never would be unless he got that vaporator working. Hewas about to try once again when a small, intense gleam of light caught his eye.Quickly he slipped the carefully cleaned set of macrobinoculars from his utility beltand focused the lenses skyward.

　　For long moments he stared, wishing all the while that he had a real telescopeinstead of the binocs. As he stared, vaporators, the heat, and the day's remainingchores were forgotten. Clipping the binoculars back onto his belt, Luke turned anddashed for the landspeeder. Halfway to the vehicle he thought to call behind him.

　　"Hurry up," he shouted impatiently. "What are you waiting for? Get it ingear."

　　The Treadwell started toward him, hesitated, and then commenced spinning in atight circle, smoke belching from every joint. Luke shouted further instruction, thenfinally gave up in disgust when he realized that it would take more than words tomotivate the Treadwell again.

　　For a moment Luke hesitated at leaving the machine behind-but, he argued tohimself, its vital components were obviously shot. So he jumped into thelandspeeder, causing the recently repaired repulsion floater to list alarmingly to oneside until he was able to equalize weight distribution by sliding behind the controls.Maintaining its altitude slightly above the sandy ground, the light-duty transportvehicle steadied itself like a boat in a heavy sea. Luke gunned the engine, whichwhined in protest, and sand erupted behind the floater as he aimed the craft toward thedistant town of Anchorhead.

　　Behind him, a pitiful beacon of black smoke from the burning robot continued torise into the clear desert air. It wouldn't be there when Luke returned. There werescavengers of metal as well as flesh in the wide wastes of Tatooine.

　　Metal and stone structures bleached white by the glaze of twin Tatoo I and IIhuddled together tightly, for company as much as for protection. They formed thenexus of the widespread farming community of Anchorhead.

　　Presently the dusty, unpaved streets were quiet, deserted. Sandflies buzzedlazily in the cracked eaves of pourstone building. A dog barked in the distance, thesole sign of habitation until a lone old woman appeared and started across the street.Her metallic sun shawl was pulled tight around her.

　　Something made her look up, tired eyes squinting into the distance. The soundsuddenly leaped in volume as a shining rectangular shape came roaring around a farcorner. Her eyes popped as the vehicle bore down on her, showing no sign ofaltering its path. She had to scramble to get out of its way.

　　Panting and waving an angry fist after the landspeeder, she raised her voice overthe sound of its passage. "Won't you kids ever learn to slow down!"

　　Luke might have seen her, but he certainly didn't hear her. In both cases hisattention was focused elsewhere as he pulled up behind a low, long concrete station.Various coils and rods jutted from its top and sides. Tatooine's relentless sand wavesbroke in frozen yellow spume against the station's walls. No one had bothered toclear them away. There was no point. They would only return again the followingday.

　　Luke slammed the front door aside and shouted, "Hey!"

　　A rugged young man in mechanic's dress sat sprawled in a chair behind thestation's unkempt control desk. Sunscreen oil had kept his skin from burning. Theskin of the girl on his lap had been equally protected, and there was a great deal moreof the protected area in view. Somehow even dried sweat looked good on her.

　　"Hey, everybody!" Luke yelled again, having elicited something less than anoverwhelming response with his first cry. He ran toward the instrument room at therear of the station while the mechanic, half asleep, ran a hand across his face andmumbled, "Did I hear a young noise blast through here?"

　　The girl on his lap stretched sensuously, her well-worn clothing tugging invarious intriguing directions. Her voice was casually throaty. "Oh," she yawned,"that was just Wormie on one of his rampages."

　　Deak and Windy looked up from the computer-assisted pool game as Luke burstinto the room. They were dressed much like Luke, although their clothing was ofbetter fit and somewhat less exercised.

　　All three youths contrasted strikingly with the burly handsome player at the farside of the table. From neatly clipped hair to his precision-cut uniform he stood outin the room like an Oriental poppy in a sea of oats. Behind the three humans a softhum came from where a repair robot was working patiently on a broken piece ofstation equipment.

　　"Shape it up, you guys," Luke yelled excitedly. Then he noticed the older manin the uniform. The subject of his suddenly startled gaze recognized himsimultaneously.

　　"Biggs!"

　　The man's face twisted in a half grin. "Hello, Luke." Then they wereembracing each other warmly.

　　Luke finally stood away, openly admiring the other's uniform. "I didn't knowyou were back. When did you get in?"

　　The confidence in the other's voice bordered the realm of smugness withoutquite entering it. "Just a little while ago. I wanted to surprise you, hotshot." Heindicated the room. "I thought you'd be here with these other two nightcrawlers."Deak and Windy both smiled. "I certainly didn't expect you to be out working."He laughed easily, a laugh few people found resistible.

　　"The academy didn't change you much," Luke commented. "But you're backso soon." His expression grew concerned. "Hey, what happened-didn't you getyour commission?"

　　There was something evasive about Biggs as he replied, looking slightly away,"Of course I got it. Signed to serve aboard the freighter Rand Ecliptic just last week.First Mate Biggs Darklighter, at your service." He performed a twisting salute, halfserious and half humorous, then grinned that over bearing yet ingratiating grin again.

　　"I just came back to say good-bye to all you unfortunate landlocked simpletons."They all laughed, until Luke suddenly remembered what had brought him here in suchhurry.

　　"I almost forgot," he told them, his initial excitement returning, "there's a battlegoing on right here in our system. Come and look."

　　Deak looked disappointed. "Not another one of your epic battles, Luke.Haven't you dreamed up enough of them? Forget it."

　　"Forget it, hell-I'm serious. It's a battle, all right."

　　With words and shoves he managed to cajole the occupants of the station out intothe strong sunlight. Camie in particular looked disgusted.

　　"This had better be worth it, Luke," she warned him, shading her eyes against theglare.

　　Luke already had his macrobinoculars out and was searching the heavens. Ittook only a moment for him to fix on a particular spot. "I told you," he insisted."There they are."

　　Biggs moved alongside him and reached for the binoculars as the other strainedunaided eyes. A slight readjustment provided just enough magnification for Biggs toout two silvery specks against the dark blue.

　　"That's no battle, hotshot," he decided, lowering the binocs and regarding hisfriend gently. "They're just sitting there. Two ships, all right-probably a bargeloading a freighter, since Tatooine hasn't got an orbital station."

　　"There was a lot of firing-earlier," Luke added. His initial enthusiasm wasbeginning to falter under the withering assurance of his older friend.

　　Camie grabbed the binoculars away from Biggs, banging them slightly against asupport pillar in the process. Luke took them away from her quickly, inspecting thecasing for damage. "Take it easy with those."

　　"Don't worry so much, Wormie." She sneered. Luke took a step toward her,then halted as the huskier mechanic easily interposed himself between them andfavored Luke with a warning smile. Luke considered, shrugged the incident away.

　　"I keep telling you, Luke," the mechanic said, with the air of a man tired ofrepeating the same story to no avail, "the rebellion is a long way from here. I doubtif the Empire would fight to keep this system. Believe me, Tatooine is a big hunk ofnothing."

　　His audience began to fade back into the station before Luke could mutter a reply.Fixer had his arm around Camie, and the two of them were chuckling over Luke'sineptitude. Even Deak and Windy were murmuring among themselves-about him,Luke was certain.

　　He followed them, but not without a last glance back and up to the distant specks.One thing he was sure of were the flashes of light he had seen between the two ships.They hadn't been caused by the suns of Tatooine reflecting off metal.

　　The binding that locked the girl's hands behind her back was primitive andeffective. The constant attention the squad of heavily armed troopers favored herwith might have been out of place for one small female, except for the fact that theirlives depended on her being delivered safely.

　　When she deliberately slowed her pace, however, it became apparent that hercaptors did not mind mistreating her a little. One of the armored figures shoved herbrutally in the small of the back, and she nearly fell. Turning, she gave the offendingsoldier a vicious look. But she could not tell if it had any effect, since the man's facewas completely hidden by his armored helmet.

　　The hallway they eventually emerged into was still smoking around the edges ofthe smoldering cavity blasted through the hull of the fighter. A portable accesswayhad been sealed to it and a circlet of light showed at the far end of the tunnel, bridgingspace between the rebel craft and the cruiser. A shadow moved over her as sheturned from inspecting the accessway, startling her despite her usually unshakableself-control.

　　Above her toward the threatening bulk of Darth Vader, red eyes glaring behindthe hideous breath mask. A muscle twitched in one smooth cheek, but other thanthat the girl didn't react. Nor was there the slightest shake in her voice.

　　"Darth Vader…I should have known. Only you would be so bold-and sostupid. Well, the Imperial Senate will not sit still for this. When they hear that youhave attacked a diplomatic miss-"

　　"Senator Leia Organa," Vader rumbled softly, though strongly enough tooverride her protests. His pleasure at finding her was evident in the way he savoredevery syllable.

　　"Don't play games with me, Your Highness," he continued ominously. "Youaren't on any mercy mission this time. You passed directly through a restrictedsystem, ignoring numerous warnings and completely disregarding orders to turnabout-until it no longer mattered."

　　The huge metal skull dipped close. "I know that several transmissions werebeamed to this vessel by spies within that system. When we traced thosetransmissions back to the individuals with whom they originated; they had the poorgrace to kill themselves before they could be questioned. I want to know whathappened to the data they sent you."

　　Neither Vader's words nor his inimical presence appeared to have any effect onthe girl. "I don't know what you're blathering about," she snapped, looking awayfrom him. "I'm a member of the Senate on a diplomatic mission to-"

　　"To your part of the rebel alliance," Vader declared, cutting her off accusingly."You're also a traitor." His gaze went to a nearby officer. "Take her away."

　　She succeeded in reaching him with her spit, which hissed against still-hot battlearmor. He wiped the offensive matter away silently, watching her with interest asshe was marched through the accessway into the cruiser.

　　A tall, slim soldier wearing the sign of an Imperial Commander attracted Vader'sattention as he came up next to him. "Holding her is dangerous," he ventured,likewise looking after her as she was escorted toward the cruiser. "If word of thisdoes get out, there will be much unrest in the Senate. It will generate sympathy forthe rebels." The Commander looked up at the unreadable metal face, then added inan off-handed manner, "She should be destroyed immediately."

　　"No. My first duty is to locate that hidden fortress of theirs," Vader repliedeasily. "All the rebel spies have been eliminated-by our hand or by their own.Therefore she is now my only key to discovering its location. I intend to make fulluse of her. If necessary, I will use her up-but I will learn the location of the rebelbase."

　　The Commander pursed his lips, shook his head slightly, perhaps a bitsympathetically, as he considered the woman. "She'll die before she gives you anyinformation." Vader's reply was chilling in its indifference. "Leave that to me."He considered a moment, then went on. "Send out a wide-band distress signal.Indicate that the Senator's ship encountered an unexpected meteorite cluster it couldnot avoid. Readings indicate that the shift shields were overridden and the ship washulled to the point of vacating ninety-five percent of its atmosphere. Inform herfather and the Senate that all aboard were killed."

　　A cluster of tired-looking troops marched purposefully up to their Commanderand the Dark Lord. Vader eyed them expectantly.

　　"The data tapes in question are not aboard the ship. There is no valuableinformation in the ship's storage banks and no evidence of bank erasure," the officerin charge recited mechanically. "Nor were any transmissions directed outward fromthe ship from the time we made contact. A malfunctioning lifeboat pod was ejectedduring the fighting, but it was confirmed at the time that no life forms were on board."

　　Vader appeared thoughtful. "It could have been a malfunctioning pod," hemused, "That might also have contained the tapes. Tapes are not life forms. In allprobability any native finding them would be ignorant of their importance and wouldlikely clear them for his own use. Still…"

　　"Send down a detachment to retrieve them, or to make certain they are not in thepod," he finally ordered the Commander and attentive officer. "Be as subtle aspossible; there is no need to attract attention, even on this miserable outpost world."

　　As the officer and troops departed, Vader turned his gaze back to the Commander."Vaporize this fighter-we don't want to leave anything. As for the pod, I cannottake the chance it was a simple malfunction. The data it might contain could provetoo damaging. See to this personally, Commander. If those data tapes exist, theymust be retrieved or destroyed at all costs." Then he added with satisfaction, "Withthat accomplished and the Senator in our hands, we will see the end of this absurdrebellion."

　　"It shall be as you direct, Lord Vader," the Commander acknowledged. Bothmen entered the accessway to the cruiser.

　　"What a forsaken place this is!"

　　Threepio turned cautiously to look back at where the pod lay half buried in sand.His internal gyros were still unsteady from the rough landing. Landing! Mereapplication of the term unduly flattered his dull associate.

　　On the other hand, he supposed he ought to be grateful they had come down inone piece. Although, he mused as he studied the barren landscape, he still wasn'tsure they were better off here than they would have been had they remained on thecaptured cruiser. High sandstone mesas dominated the skyline to one side. Everyother direction showed only endless series of marching dunes like long yellow teethstretching for kilometer on kilometer into the distance. Sand ocean blended into sky-glare until it was impossible to distinguish where one ended and the other began.

　　A faint cloud of minute dust particles rose in their wake as the two robotsmarched away from the pod. That vehicle, its intended function fully discharged,was now quite useless. Neither robot had been designed for pedal locomotion onthis kind of terrain, so they had to fight their way across the unstable surface.

　　"We seem to have been made to suffer," Threepio moaned in self-pity. "It's arotten existence." Something squeaked in his right leg and he winced. "I've got torest before I fall apart. My internals still haven't recovered from that headlong crashyou called a landing."

　　He paused, but Artoo Detoo did not. The little automation had performed asharp turn and was now ambling slowly but steadily in the direction of the nearestoutjut of mesa.

　　"Hey," Threepio yelled. Artoo ignored the call and continued striding."Where do you think you are going?"

　　Now Artoo paused, emitting a stream of electronic explanation as Threepioexhaustedly walked over to join him.

　　"Well, I'm not going that way," Threepio declared when Artoo had concluded hisexplanation. "It's too rocky." He gestured in the direction they had been walking,at an angle away from the cliffs. "This way is much easier." A metal hand waveddisparagingly at the high mesas. "What makes you think there are settlements thatway, anyhow?"

　　A long whistle issued from the depths of Artoo.

　　"Don't get technical with me," Threepio warned. "I've had just about enoughof your decisions."

　　Artoo beeped once.

　　"All right, go your way," Threepio announced grandly. "You'll be sandloggedwithin a day, you nearsighted scrap pile." He gave the Artoo unit a contemptuousshove, sending the smaller robot tumbling down a slight dune. As it struggled at thebottom to regain its feet, Threepio started off toward the blurred, glaring horizon,glancing back over his shoulder. "Don't let me catch you following me, begging forhelp," he warned, "because you won't get it."

　　Below the crest of the dune, the Artoo unit righted itself. It paused briefly toclean its single electronic eye with an auxiliary arm. Then it produced an electronicsqueal, which was almost, though not quite, a human expression of rage. Hummingquietly to itself then, it turned and trudged off toward the sandstone ridges as ifnothing had happened.

　　Several hours later a straining Threepio, his internal thermostat overloaded andedging dangerously toward overheat shutdown, struggled up the top of what he hopedwas the last towering the dune. Nearby, a pillars and buttresses of bleached calcium,the bones of some enormous beast, formed an unpromising landmark. Reaching thecrest of the dune, Threepio peered anxiously ahead. Instead of the hoped-forgreenery of human civilization he saw only several dozen more dunes, identical inform and promise to the one he now stood upon. The farthest rose even higher thanthe one he presently surmounted.

　　Threepio turned and looked back toward the now far-off rocky plateau, whichwas beginning to grow indistinct with distance and heat distortion. "Youmalfunctioning little twerp," he muttered, unable even now to admit to himself thatperhaps, just possibly, the Artoo unit might have been right. "This is all your fault.You tricked me into going this way, but you'll do no better."

　　Nor would he if he didn't continue on. So he took a step forward and heardsomething grind dully within a leg joint. Sitting down in an electronic funk, hebegan picking sand from his encrusted joints.

　　He could continue on his present course, he told himself. Or he could confessto an error in judgment and try to catch up again with Artoo Detoo. Neither prospectheld much appeal for him.

　　But there was a third choice. He could sit here, shining in the sunlight, until hisjoints locked, his internals overheated, and the ultraviolet burned out hisphotoreceptors. He would become another monument to the destructive power ofthe binary, like the colossal organism whose picked corpse he had just encountered.

　　Already his receptors were beginning to go, he reflected. It seemed he sawsomething moving in the distance. Heat distortion, probably. No-no-it wasdefinitely light on metal, and it was moving toward him. His hopes soared.Ignoring the warnings from his damaged leg, he rose and began waving frantically.

　　It was, he saw now, definitely a vehicle, though of a type unfamiliar to him.But a vehicle it was, and that implied intelligence and technology.

　　He neglected in his excitement to consider the possibility that it might not be ofhuman origin.

　　"So I cut off my power, shut down the afterburners, and dropped in low onDeak's tail," Luke finished, waving his arms wildly. He and Biggs were walking inthe shade outside the power station. Sounds of metal being worked came fromsomewhere within, where Fixer had finally joined his robot assistant in performingrepairs."I was so close to him," Luke continued excitedly, "I thought I was going to fry myinstrumentation. As it was. I busted up the skyhopper pretty bad." Thatrecollection inspired a frown.

　　"Uncle Owen was pretty upset. He grounded me for the rest of the season."Luke's depression was brief. Memory of his feat overrode its immorality.

　　"You should have been there, Biggs!"

　　"You ought to take it a little easier," his friend cautioned. "You may be thehottest bush pilot this side of Mos Eisley, Luke, but those little skyhoppers can bedangerous. They move awfully fast for tropospheric craft-faster than they need to.Keep playing engine jockey with one and someday, whammo!" He slammed one fistviolently into his open palm. "You're going to be nothing more than a dark spot onthe damp side of a canyon wall."

　　"Look who's talking," Luke retorted. "Now that you've been on a few bigautomatic starships you're beginning to sound like my uncle. You've gotten soft inthe cities." He swung spiritedly at Biggs, who blocked the movement easily, makinga halfhearted gesture of counterattack.

　　Biggs's easygoing smugness dissolved into something warmer. "I've missedyou, kid."

　　Luke looked away, embarrassed. "Things haven't exactly been the same sinceyou left, either, Biggs. It's been so-" Luke hunted for the right word and finallyfinished helplessly, "so quiet." His gaze traveled across the sandy, deserted streets ofAnchorhead. "Its always been quiet, really."

　　Biggs grew silent, thinking. He glanced around. They were along out there.Everyone else was back inside the comparative coolness of the power station. As heleaned close Luke sense an unaccustomed solemness in his friend's tone.

　　"Luke, I don't come back just to say good-bye, or to crow over everyone becauseI got through the Academy." Again he hesitate, unsure of himself. Then he blurtedout rapidly, not giving himself a chance to back down, "But I want somebody to know.I can't tell my parents."

　　Gaping at Biggs, Luke could only gulp, "Know what? What are you talkingabout?"

　　"I'm talking about the talking that's been going on at the Academy-and otherplaces, Luke. Strong talking. I made some new friends, outsystem friends. Weagreed about the way certain things are developing, and-" his voice droppedconspiratorially-"When we reach one of the peripheral systems, we're going to jumpship and join the Alliance."

　　Luke stared back at his friend, tried to picture Biggs-fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, live-for-today Biggs-as patriot afire with rebellious fervor.

　　"You're going to join the rebellion?" he started. "You've got to be kidding.How?"

　　"Damp down, will you?" the bigger man cautioned. "You've got a mouth like acrater."

　　"I'm sorry," Luke whispered rapidly. "I'm quiet-listen how quiet I am. Youcan barely hear me-"

　　Biggs cut him off and continued. "A friend of mine from the Academy has afriend on Bestine who might enable us to make contact with an armed rebel unit.""A friend of a-You're crazy," Luke announced with conviction, certain his friendhad gone mad. "You could wander around forever trying to find a real rebel outpost.Most of them are only myths. This twice removed friend could be an imperial agent.You'd end up on Kessel, or worse. If rebel outposts were so easy to find, the Empirewould have wiped them out years ago."

　　"I know it's a long shot," Biggs admitted reluctantly. "If I don't contact them,then"-a peculiar light came into Biggs's eyes, a conglomeration of newfoundmaturity and…something else-"I'll do what I can, on my own."

　　He stared intensely at his friend. "Luke, I'm not going to wait for the Empire toconscript me into its service. In spite of what you hear over the official informationchannels, the rebellion is growing, spreading. And I want to be on the right side-the side I believe in." His voice altered unpleasantly, and Luke wondered what hesaw in his mind's eye.

　　"You should have heard some of the stories I've heard, Luke, learned of some ofthe outrages I've learned about. The Empire may have been great and beautiful once,but the people in charge now-" He shook his head sharply. "It's rotten, Luke,rotten."

　　"And I can't do a damn thing," Luke muttered morosely. "I'm stuck here."He kicked futilely at the ever-present sand of Anchorhead.

　　"I though you were going to enter the Academy soon," Biggs observed. "Ifthat's so, then you'll have your chance to get off this sandpile."

　　Luke snorted derisively. "Not likely. I had to withdraw my application." Helooked away, unable to meet his friend's disbelieving stare. "I had to. There's beena lot of unrest among the sandpeople since you left, Biggs. They've even raided theoutskirts of Anchorhead."

　　Biggs shook his head, disregarding the excuse. "Your uncle could hold off awhole colony of raiders with one blaster."

　　"From the house, sure," Luke agreed, "but Uncle Owen's finally got enoughvaporators installed and running to make the farm pay off big. But he can't guard allthat land by himself, and he says he needs me for one more season. I can't run outon him now."

　　Biggs sighed sadly. "I feel for you, Luke. Someday you're going to have tolearn to separate what seems to be important from what really is important." Hegestured around them.

　　"What good is all your uncle's work if it's taken over by the Empire? I'veheard that they're starting to imperialize commerce in all the outlying systems. Itwon't be long before your uncle and everyone else on Tatooine are just tenantsslaving for the greater glory of the Empire."

　　"That couldn't happen here," Luke objected with a confidence he didn't quitefeel. "You've said it yourself-the Empire won't bother with this rock."

　　"Things change, Luke. Only the threat is completely removed-well, there aretwo things men have never been able to satisfy; their curiosity and their greed.There isn't much the high Imperial bureaucrats are curious about."

　　Both men stood silent. A sandwhirl traversed the street in silent majesty,collapsing against a wall to send newborn baby zephyrs in all directions.

　　"I wish I was going with you," Luke finally murmured. He glanced up. "Willyou be around long?"

　　"No. As a matter of fact, I'm leaving in the morning to rendezvous with theEcliptic."

　　"Then I guess...I won't seeing you again."

　　"Maybe someday," Biggs declared. He brightened, grinning that disarming grin."I'll keep a look out for you, brother. Try not to run into any canyon walls in themeantime."

　　"I'll be at the Academy the season after," Luke insisted, more to encouragehimself than Biggs. "After that, who knows where I'll end up?" He soundeddetermined. "I won't be drafted into the starfleet, that's for sure. Tale care ofyourself. You'll…always be the best friend I've got." There was no need for ahandshake. These two had long since passed beyond that.

　　"So long, then, Luke," Biggs said simply. He turned and reentered the powerstation.

　　Luke watched him disappear through the door, his own thoughts as chaotic andfrenetic as one of Tatooine's spontaneous dust storms.

　　There were any numbers of extraordinary features unique to Tatooine's surface.Outstanding among them were the mysterious mists, which rose regularly from theground at the points where desert sands washed up against unyielding cliffs and mesas.

　　Fog in a steaming desert seemed as out of place as cactus on a glacier, but itexisted nonetheless. Meteorologists and geologists argued its origin amongthemselves, muttering hard-to-believe theories about water suspended in sandstoneveins beneath the sand and incomprehensible chemical reactions which made waterrise when the ground cooled, then fall underground again with the double sunrise. Itwas all very backward and very real.

　　Neither the mist nor the alien moans of nocturnal desert dwellers troubled ArtooDetoo, however, as he made his careful way up the rocky arroyo, hunting for theeasiest pathway to the mesa top. His squarish, broad footpads made clicking soundsloud in the evening light as sand underfoot gave way gradually to gravel.

　　For a moment, he paused. He seemed to detect a noise-like metal on rock-ahead of him, instead of rock on rock. The sound wasn't repeated, though, and hequickly resumed his ambling ascent.

　　Up the arroyo, too far up to be seen from below, a pebble trickled loose from thestone wall. The tiny figure, which had accidentally dislodged the pebble, retreatedmouse-like into shadow. Two glowing points of light showed under overlappingfolds of brown cape a meter from the narrowing canyon wall.

　　Only the reaction of the unsuspecting robot indicated the presence of the whiningbeam as it struck him. For a moment Artoo Detoo fluoresced eerily in the dimminglight. There was a single short electronic squeak. Then the tripodal supportunbalanced and the tiny automation toppled over onto its back, the lights on its frontblinking on and off erratically from the effects of the paralyzing beam.

　　Three travesties of men scurried out from behind concealing boulders. Theirmotions were more indicative of rodent than humankind, and they stood little tallerthan the Artoo unit. When they saw that the single burst of enervation energy hadimmobilized the robot, they holstered their peculiar weapons. Nevertheless, theyapproached the listless machine cautiously, with the trepidation of hereditary cowards.

　　Their cloaks were thickly coated with dust and sand. Unhealthy red-yellowpupils glowed catlike from the depths of their hoods as they studied their captive.The jawas conversed in low guttural croaks and scrambled analogs of human speech.If, as anthropologists hypothesized, they had ever been human, they had long sincedegenerated past anything resembling the human race.

　　Several more jawas appeared. Together, they succeeded in alternately hoistingand dragging the robot back down the arroyo.

　　At the bottom of canyon-like some monstrous prehistoric beast-was asandcrawler as enormous as its owners and operators were tiny. Several dozenmeters high, the vehicle towered above the ground on multiple treads that were tallerthan a tall man. Its metal epidermis was battered and pitted from with-standinguntold sandstorms.

　　On reaching the crawler, the jawas resumed jabbering among themselves.Artoo Detoo could hear them but failed to comprehend anything. He need not havebeen embarrassed at his failure. If they so wished, only jawas could understandother jawas, for they employed a randomly variable language that drove linguists mad.

　　One of them removed a small disk from a belt pouch and sealed it to the Artoounit's flank. A large tube protruded from one side of the gargantuan vehicle. Theyrolled him over to it and then moved clear. There was a brief moan, the whoosh ofpowerful vacuum, and the small robot was sucked into the bowels of the sandcrawleras neatly as a pea up a straw. This part of the job completed, the jawas engaged inanother bout of jabbering, following which they scurried into the crawler via tubesand ladders, for all the world like a nest of mice returning to their holes.

　　None too gently, the suction tube deposited Artoo in a small cubical. Inaddition to varied piles of broken instruments and outright scrap, a dozen or so robotsof differing shapes and sizes populated the prison. A few were locked in electronicconversation. Others muddled aimlessly about. But when Artoo tumbled into thechamber, one voice burst out in surprise.

　　"Artoo Detoo-it's you, it's you!" called an excited Threepio from the neardarkness. He made his way over to the still immobilized repair unit and embraced itmost unmechanically. Spotting the small disk sealed onto Artoo's side, Threepioturned his gaze thoughtfully down to his own chest, where a similar device hadlikewise been attached.

　　Massive gears, poorly lubricated, started to move. With a groaning andgrinding, the monster sandcrawler turned and lumbered with relentless patience intothe desert night.

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? Georgelucas