Part 7 (1/2)
Gesturing for the two robots to follow, Ben started toward the waiting craft. The canopy flipped open and up to reveal Luke sitting motionless in the pilot's seat. He didn't look up at Ken.o.bi's inquiring glance. That in itself was enough to tell the old man what had happened.
”I share your sorrow, Luke,” he finally ventured softly. ”There was nothing you could have done. Had you been there, you'd be dead now, too, and the droid would be in the hands of the Imperials. Not even the Force-”
”d.a.m.n your Force!” Luke snarled with sudden violence. Now he turned and glared at Ken.o.bi. There was a set to his jaw that belonged on a much older face.
”I'll take you to the s.p.a.ceport at Mos Eisley, Ben. I want to go with you-to Alderaan. There's nothing left for me here now.” His eyes turned to look out across the desert, to focus on something beyond sand and rock and canyon walls. ”I want to learn to be a Jedi, like my father. I want...” He paused, the words backing up like a logjam in his throat.
Ken.o.bi slid into the c.o.c.kpit, put a hand gently on the youth's shoulder, then went forward to make room for the two robots. ”I'll do my best to see that you get what you want, Luke. For now, let's go to Mos Eisley.”
Luke nodded and closed the canopy. The landspeeder moved away to the southeast, leaving behind the still-smoldering sand-crawler, the jawa funeral pyre, and the only life Luke had ever known.
Leaving the speeder parked near the edge of the sandstone bluff, Luke and Ben walked over and peered down at the tiny regularized b.u.mps erupting from the sun-baked plain below. The haphazard collage of low-grade concrete, stone, and plastoid structures spread outward from a central power-and-water-distribution plant like the spokes of a wheel.
Actually the town was considerably larger than it appeared, since a good portion of it lay underground. Looking like bomb craters from this distance, the smooth circular depressions of launch stations pockmarked the cityscape.
A brisk gale was scouring the tired ground. It whipped the sand about Luke's feet and legs as he adjusted his protective goggles.
”There it is,” Ken.o.bi murmured, indicating the unimpressive collection of buildings, ”Mos Eisley s.p.a.ceport-the ideal place for us to lose ourselves while we seek pa.s.sage offplanet. Not a more wretched collection of villainy and disreputable types exists any where on Tatooine. The Empire has been alerted to us, so we must be very cautious, Luke. The population of Mos Eisley should disguise us well.”
Luke wore a determined look. Tm ready for anything, Obi-Wan.”
I wonder if you comprehend what that might entail, Luke, Ken.o.bi thought. But he only nodded as he led the way back to the landspeeder.
Unlike Anchorhead, there were enough people in Mos Eisley to require movement in the heat of day. Built from the beginning with commerce in mind, even the oldest of the town's buildings had been designed to provide protection from the twin suns. They looked primitive from the outside, and many were. But oftentimes walls and arches of old stone masked durasteel double walls with circulating coolant flowing freely between.
Luke was maneuvering the landspeeder through the town's outskirts when several tall, gleaming forms appeared from nowhere and began to close a circle around him. For one panicked moment he considered gunning the engine and racing through the pedestrians and other vehicles. A startlingly firm grip on his arm both restrained and relaxed him. He glanced over to see Ken.o.bi smiling, warning him.
So they continued at a normal town cruising speed, Luke hoping that the Imperial troops were bent on business elsewhere. No such luck. One of the troopers raised an armored hand. Luke had no choice but to respond. As he pulled the speeder over, he grew aware of the attention they were receiving from curious pa.s.sersby. Worse yet, it seemed that the trooper's attention was in fact reserved not for Ken.o.bi or himself, but for the two unmoving robots seated in the speeder behind them.
”How long have you had these droids?” the trooper who had raised his hand barked. Polite formalities were to be dispensed with, it appeared.
Looking blank for a second, Luke finally came up with ”Three or four seasons, I guess.”
”They're up for sale, if you want them-and the price is right,” Ken.o.bi put in, giving a wonderful impression of a desert finagler out to cajole a few quick credits from ignorant Imperials.
The trooper in charge did not deign to reply. He was absorbed in a thorough examination of the landspeeder's underside.
”Did you come in from the south?” he asked.
”No... no,” Luke answered quickly, ”we live in the west, near Bestine towns.h.i.+p.”
”Bestine?” the trooper murmured, walking around to study the speeder's front. Luke forced himself to stare straight ahead. Finally the armored figure concluded his examination. He moved to stand ominously close to Luke and snapped, ”Let me see your identification.”
Surely the man sensed his terror and nervousness by now, Luke thought wildly. His resolution of not long before to be ready to take on anything had already disintegrated under the unwinking stare of this professional soldier. He knew what would happen if they got a look at his formal ID, with the location of his homestead and the names of his nearest relatives on it. Something seemed to be buzzing inside his head; he felt faint.
Ken.o.bi had leaned over and was talking easily to the trooper. ”You don't need to see his identification,” the old man informed the Imperial in an extremely peculiar voice.
Staring blankly back at him, the officer replied, as if it were self-evident. ”I don't need to see your identification.” His reaction was the opposite of Ken.o.bi's: his voice was normal, but his expression peculiar.
”These aren't the droids you're looking for,” Ken.o.bi told him pleasantly.
”These aren't the droids we're looking for.”
”He can go about his business.”
”You can go about your business,” the metal-masked officer informed Luke.
The expression of relief that spread across Luke's face ought to have been as revealing as his previous nervousness, but the Imperial ignored it.
”Move along,” Ken.o.bi whispered.
”Move along,” the officer instructed Luke.
Unable to decide whether he should salute, nod, or give thanks to the man, Luke settled for nudging the accelerator. The land-speeder moved forward, drawing away from the circle of troops. As they prepared to round a corner, Luke risked a glance backward.
The officer who had inspected them appeared to be arguing with several comrades, though at this distance Luke couldn't be sure.
He peered up at his tall companion and started to say something. Ken.o.bi only shook his head slowly and smiled. Swallowing his curiosity, Luke concentrated on guiding the speeder through steadily narrowing streets.
Ken.o.bi seemed to have some idea where they were headed. Luke studied the run-down structures and equally unwholesome-looking individuals they were pa.s.sing. They had entered the oldest section of Mos Eisley and consequently the one where the old vices flourished most strongly.
Ken.o.bi pointed and Luke pulled the landspeeder up in front of what appeared to be one of the original s.p.a.ceport's first block houses. It had been converted into a cantina whose clientele was suggested by the diverse nature of transport parked outside. Some of them Luke recognized, others he had only heard rumors of. The cantina itself, he knew from the design of the building, must lie partially underground.
As the dusty but still sleek craft pulled into an open spot, a jawa materialized from nowhere and began running covetous hands over the metal sides. Luke leaned out and barked something harsh at the subhuman which caused it to scurry away.
”I can't abide those jawas,” murmured Threepio with lofty disdain. ”Disgusting creatures.”
Luke's mind was too full of their narrow escape for him to comment on Threepio's sentiments. ”I still can't understand how we got by those troops. I thought we were as good as dead.”
”The Force is in the mind, Luke, and can sometimes be used to influence others. It's a powerful ally. But as you come to know the Force, you will discover that it can also be a danger.”
Nodding without really understanding, Luke indicated the rundown though obviously popular cantina. ”Do you really think we can find a pilot here capable of taking us all the way to Alderaan?”
Ken.o.bi was exiting from the speeder. ”Most of the good, independent freighter pilots frequent this place, though many can afford better. They can talk freely here. You should have learned by now, Luke, not to equate ability with appearance.” Luke saw the old man's shabby clothing anew and felt ashamed. ”Watch yourself, though. This place can be rough.”
Luke found himself squinting as they entered the cantina. It was darker inside than he would have liked. Perhaps the regular habitues of this place were unaccustomed to the light of day, or didn't wish to be seen clearly. It didn't occur to Luke that the dim interior in combination with the brilliantly lit entrance permitted everyone inside to see each newcomer before he could see them.
Moving inward, Luke was astonished at the variety of beings making use of the bar. There were one-eyed creatures and thousand-eyed, creatures with scales, creatures with fur, and some with skin that seemed to ripple and change consistency according to their feelings of the moment.
Hovering near the bar itself was a towering insectoid that Luke glimpsed only as a threatening shadow. It contrasted with two of the tallest women Luke had ever seen. They were among the most normal-looking of the outrageous a.s.semblage of humans that mixed freely among alien counterparts. Tentacles, claws, and hands were wrapped around drinking utensils of various sizes and shapes. Conversation was a steady babble of human and alien tongues.
Leaning close, Ken.o.bi gestured toward the far end of the bar. A small knot of rough-looking humans lounged there, drinking, laughing, and trading stories of dubious origin.
”Corellians-pirates, most likely.”
”I thought we were looking for an independent freighter captain with his own s.h.i.+p for hire,” Luke whispered back.
”So we are, young Luke, so we are,” agreed Ken.o.bi. ”And there's bound to be one or two adequate for our needs among that group. It's just that in Corellian terminology the distinction between who owns what cargo tends to get a little muddled from time to time. Wait here.”
Luke nodded and watched as Ken.o.bi worked his way through the crowd. The Correllians' suspicion at his approach vanished as soon as he engaged them in conversation.