Star Wars - A New Hope - The Life of Luke Skywalker Read online

  They gathered the carcasses, dragging them away from the Spice Siren, and used some spare fuel to set all but one of the larger womp rats ablaze. After they loaded and strapped the remaining carcass onto the back of the speeder, Luke returned to the driver’s seat and they took off.

  As they traveled southeast along the edge of the Jundland Wastes, Biggs gestured to a break in the mountain range on the right and said, “Wanna take a little detour?”

  “Into the Wastes?”

  “Why not? We’ve got time.”

  Luke grinned and turned right.

  * * *

  The desert soon gave way to rockier terrain, but the speeder continued to travel as smoothly as it had over the even salt flats. Biggs patted the speeder’s dashboard, and said, “Handles great, doesn’t she?”

  “I’ll say! So, when we get to Anchorhead, who should we tell —“

  “Stop the speeder.”

  “Huh?”

  “Just do it.”

  Biggs was looking off to the side. Luke wasn’t sure whether his friend was joking around again, but he brought the speeder to a stop and cut the engine.

  Biggs said, “Look thataway.” He pointed toward Wastes. “See? That row of little bumps between those two buttes?”

  Luke followed Biggs’s gaze and saw a long series shadowy shapes. He watched them for a moment, the said, “They’re moving.”

  “They’re banthas,” Biggs said. “At least twenty or so. Looks like they’re moving in single file.”

  “It’s so... orderly.” Luke glanced at Biggs. “Think there’s Sand People riding them?”

  “Let’s find out,” Biggs said. He had a set of macrobinoculars clipped to his belt, and he removed them and held them up to his eyes

  Luke said, “Well”

  “See for yourself,” Biggs said, handing the macrobinoculars to Luke.

  Luke peered through the lenses and zoomed in on a bantha. On its back were two humanoid figures. He could see only their silhouettes, but then he saw a glint of metal on one figure’s head. “Yep,” he said. “Sand People.”

  “I wonder what they’re up to.” Keeping his eyes on the distant banthas, Biggs gestured at the speeder’s controls and said, “Start her up again, then head for the left of that butte. Get us up to around one fifty until we’re about two klicks from the butte, then kill the engine. We’ll coast in quiet the rest of the way, get in close, and have a look without them seeing us first.”

  Luke looked at Biggs. “But what if they do see us first?”

  Biggs flashed a toothy grin. “First, we smile pretty at them. Then we hope the engine starts up again and we leave very, very fast.”

  Luke followed Biggs’s instructions and brought the coasting speeder to a silent stop near the base of the stratified butte. Beyond the butte, there was a wide, shallow valley. Luke and Biggs grabbed their laser rifles and left the speeder, staying low as they moved behind some rocks. They peered over the rocks, and they waited.

  The banthas came into view a few minutes later, moving out from behind the next butte to proceed down into the valley. Luke shifted the macrobinoculars to the left of the procession and said, “They’re heading for. . . I’m not sure what it is. A cluster of poles and arches? Maybe a fire pit?”

  Biggs took the macrobinoculars. “Or ruins of sort kind. Maybe a camp.”

  Luke watched the lead bantha wrap around mysterious destination. The other banthas followed they had formed a ring around the site, and then the came to a stop. Luke said, “What’re they doing?”

  “The visibility’s not great,” Biggs said, “but I the Tuskens are dismounting. The banthas are just standing there. They’re bunched so tight around whatever they’re looking at I can’t see what’s going on.”

  “Let’s just wait a little while,” Luke said. “See what happens.”

  Several minutes later, the Tusken Raiders remounted the banthas and moved off in single file, continuing on their course away from Luke and Biggs. Luke said, “I wanna see what’s down there.”

  “Me, too,” Biggs said. “But let’s stay put until they’re farther away.”

  They waited until the banthas had traveled so far that they could barely be seen by the naked eye. They returned to Biggs’s speeder. Biggs said, “I’ll drive. You keep your rifle ready and your eyes peeled for any sign of a trap.”

  Biggs’s speeder descended into the valley. As drew closer to the place the Tusken Raiders had left, Luke realized that the arches and poles he’d seen earlier were made out of desiccated bantha bones. Bits of sun-bleached leather skins clung to some of the bones.

  “Looks like an old Tusken camp, all right,” Biggs said as he guided his speeder through a slow turn around the ruins.

  Clutching his rifle, Luke rose in his seat to get a better look at the area. He kept his voice low as he said, “What do you think happened here?”

  “You got me,” Biggs said, “but whatever happened, it wasn’t recent. Those bantha ribs are whiter than a. . What in the name of—”

  Luke’s eyes locked on the same thing that had just caught Biggs’s attention. In the sand surrounding the remains of one Tusken dwelling were a number of shattered humanoid skeletons.

  Biggs slowed his speeder to a stop. “Look there,” he said. “Those skulls... they’re cut clean in half. The only thing I know of that can cut with that kind of precision is an industrial laser.”

  Luke hadn’t noticed just how still the air was until a strangely cold breeze flowed over and past them, and he nearly jumped when he saw movement in the ruins. The breeze had blown a pair of leather strips that dangled from one of the arched ribs. Luke didn’t wonder what the leather strips might have been used for. It didn’t take much imagination to guess that the Tuskens had once used them to string someone up.

  * * *

  Luke felt his blood run cold, and an overwhelming sense of dread engulfed him. He tried to tear his from the leather strips, and felt suddenly queasy when he realized he could not, as if he were compelled to keep staring at them. “Biggs,” he whispered as he slid down against his seat, “get us out of here.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Biggs,” Luke said again, his voice almost a whimper as he forced himself to squeeze his eyes “go... now... please.”

  “Sure, just take it easy.” Biggs tapped the accelerator and they sped off, heading out of the Jundland Wastes.

  Several minutes later, after they’d left the Wastes, Biggs stopped the speeder and looked at Luke. He said, “You okay?”

  Luke nodded. “Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know what came over me. That place, it... it just made me feel so. . “

  “Scared?”

  “Yeah,” Luke said. Then he quickly added, “You’re not gonna tell anyone, are ya?”

  “Not if you don’t tell anyone I was scared.”

  “Really? You, too?”

  Biggs nodded. “I’ve seen some spooky stuff before but that place. . . ? That was like a nightmare.”

  Luke nodded, but he thought, No. It was worse.

  “Well, it’s behind us now. And speaking of behind us...“ Biggs glanced over his shoulder at the womp rat carcass strapped to the back of the speeder, then said, “Let’s get this varmint to Anchorhead.”

  They drove off. Luke tried to focus on the land ahead of them but kept thinking of the ruins. He wondered if his uncle or aunt had ever heard about an abandoned Tusken camp in the Jundland Wastes, but he knew better than to ask. If his uncle learned that he had been out exploring the Wastes, he’d be grounded indefinitely.

  After reporting their skirmish with the womp rats to the Anchorhead officials, Biggs returned Luke to the Lars homestead. It was almost evening when they arrived to find a rust-encrusted Jawa sandcrawler parked near the homestead’s entry dome. Luke climbed out of Biggs’s speeder. Then Biggs took off, heading back to his own family’s farm.

  Luke walked to the front of the sandcrawler and found his uncle engaged in conversation with a group o
f Jawas. Hearing Luke’s approach, the Jawas turned their small, hooded heads to fix their glowing yellow eyes on the boy. The chief Jawa directed the others to get some equipment from inside the sandcrawler.

  Luke stopped beside his uncle and said, “What’s going on?”

  “Just bought some more vaporators,” Owen s “I’m expanding the farm to the outlying ranges.”

  More vaporators? Luke’s shoulders sagged a thought of the additional work that would be required of him.

  Owen said, “Something wrong?”

  “No, sir.” Luke turned and looked away from sandcrawler. The dust that Biggs’s speeder had ki up while departing was still in the air.

  Suddenly, an idea struck Luke.

  He straightened his shoulders. Trying to sound casual, he said, “Uncle Owen, I think it’s great you’re expanding the farm.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, I always thought it was a shame, all that land of yours just sitting out there, not being used or generating income.”

  “Well, we’re agreed on that.”

  “But I was wondering... how am I supposed to get to the outlying ranges? I mean, it’s too far to walk. I’ll need to get to the vaporators fast, even for routine maintenance.” Lowering his voice so the Jawas wouldn’t hear, he added, “And if we’re going to stop scavengers from taking your property, I’ll need to check the vaporators more often too.”

  Owen’s brow furrowed. “You’re still trying to convince me we need another landspeeder.”

  Luke shrugged. “Well, unless you want to use the family speeder every time we need to check a —“

  “I’ll think about it,” Owen said.

  Yes! Luke believed that his uncle would soon realize that getting another speeder was not only practical, but necessary. He also knew from experience that it would be best not to push his luck any more on the subject, at least not for the day. Trying not to grin, he nodded, then turned and started walking to the entry dome.

  The suns were close to the horizon. Looking beyond the homestead’s courtyard, Luke saw long shadows crawling across the desert.

  And then his gaze landed on the area of the unmarked graves that included his grandmother’s final resting place.

  He thought of the broken skeletons he’d seen at the abandoned Tusken camp. He suddenly found himself wondering which graveyard was more miserable. The one where the butchered remains of the dead had been left exposed for all to see? Or the one where the buried were already all but forgotten? Luke couldn’t decide. Both were terribly unfortunate fates.

  But as Luke descended to his underground home, he knew one thing for certain. As bad as life could be on Tatooine, death was usually worse.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Luke was moving fast over the desert in his landspeeder, heading back home from Anchorhead, when he sighted yet another womp rat running toward some rocks. He had one hand on the speeder’s controls and the other wrapped around the grip of his laser rifle, its barrel extended away from the vehicle. He didn’t to reduce speed as he took aim and squeezed the weapon’s trigger.

  “Yee-oww!” Luke hollered with excitement when he saw the fired energy bolt strike the vile womp rat, killing it instantly. He was amazed by his own shot, he doubted that Biggs had ever made a one-handed bull’s-eye while driving a speeder.

  It was Luke’s seventeenth year on Tatooine. Although he still dreamed of adventure elsewhere, he was enjoying life more than ever. Two years earlier, his uncle had finally agreed to let him buy the used open-cockpit X-34 landspeeder that he now drove. Luke was also the proud owner of a used Incom T-16 skyhopper, a tri-wing, ion engine-equipped airspeeder that he used for trans-orbital jumps and racing through Beggar’s Canyon. Biggs Darklighter had a skyhopper, too, as did most of their friends. Both Biggs and Luke had armed their T-16s with laser cannons in their ongoing effort to keep down the womp rat population.

  Raiding storehouses and gnawing through moisture vaporator cables, womp rats had become an increasingly big problem on Tatooine — so big that the government of Anchorhead and the regional members of Affiliated Moisture Farmers had passed a bounty ordinance that paid out ten credits per rat. Luke and Biggs were pouring most of their earnings into upgrading their T-16s.

  Luke parked the landspeeder so he could run and collect the womp rat he’d just killed. He tossed the carcass into the back of his speeder, then jumped into the vehicle and took off. As he drove home, it occurred to him that the bounty on the womp rat might pay for a set of macrobinoculars he’d been wanting.

  Luke arrived at the Lars homestead, parked his landspeeder, and ran down to the courtyard. “Uncle Owen! Aunt Beru! I’m home!”

  “Late!” Owen bellowed as he rose from the table in the dining alcove. “And without the rebuilt parts for our Treadwell, even though you took all day!”

  Owen had sent Luke to get some refurbished parts for a Treadwell droid at Tosche Station in Anchorhead, where Luke’s friend Fixer worked as a mechanic. Unfortunately, Fixer claimed that he had become overwhelmed by several other jobs. Luke had known that his uncle would not be pleased that he was returning from Anchorhead with only a dead womp rat to show for his time away from the farm.

  Luke saw his aunt emerge from the kitchen, returned his gaze to his uncle. “I tried giving Fixer a hand, Uncle Owen,” he said feebly, “but with his backlog, he says it’ll be a week before —“

  “Without that droid,” Owen said, “we can’t install those new vaporators.”

  “I know, Uncle Owen,” Luke said. “And I kinda wondered. . . Biggs Darklighter’s leaving soon for Academy, and tomorrow, the gang’s planning a sort farewell celebration. Until the droid’s working, I can’t do much, so —“

  “So it’ll be an excuse to idle away more time,” Owen grumbled. “Luke, a moisture farmer can’t —“

  “Owen,” Beru interrupted, “Biggs is Luke’s best friend. He’ll be gone a year or more. You let a brother leave without saying good-bye. Haven’t wished —“

  “Enough, Beru!” Owen snapped. He scowled, then looked at Luke.

  Luke held his breath, waiting for his uncle decision.

  Owen let out a defeated sigh. “You can go, young man,” he said. “But don’t ask for anything else until we have a functioning Treadwell. And if any vaporators break down. .

  “Oh, they won’t, sir,” Luke said. “I promise.”

  Owen walked off across the courtyard, leaving Luke with Beru in the dining alcove. Luke shook his head as he followed his aunt into the kitchen. “Gee,” he said, “I never figured Uncle Owen would give in. What happened between him and my father?”

  Beru turned her back to Luke while she began slicing vegetables at the counter. “Er. . . nothing really, Luke,” she said. “Perhaps. . . Owen just... depended too much on your father staying with him on the farm.”

  “Like he does now with me?” Luke leaned against the counter and looked at the floor. “Whenever I mention going to the Academy like Biggs, he —“

  “He cares for you, Luke,” Beru said, then added, “in his own gruff way.”

  “I guess I know that,” Luke said. “And all his effort on the farm is to build something for us all. Makes me feel like a traitor to even think about leaving, Aunt Beru. Still. . . some crazy part of me keeps feeling like there should be more.” He shook his head. “Maybe I’m just afraid to grow up, to face responsibility like Uncle Owen. What else could it be?”

  He looked at his aunt and found her returning I gaze with a sad smile. Neither one of them knew what to say.

  Luke drifted toward the tech dome so he could C maintenance check on his skyhopper. He wanted t make sure it was thoroughly tuned before the next day, when he aimed to fly his best against Biggs at Beggar’s Canyon.

  * * *

  “Hey, Biggs!” Luke said into his skyhopper’s comm. “Over here!” Luke had just zoomed in from the south when he spotted Biggs’s magenta T-16 whi through the sky over Beggar’s Canyon.

  “I see you wag
gling your wings, hotshot,” answered. “Glad you could make it. But just ‘cause this is the last get-together of the two Shooting Stars, don’t expect any breaks when the run begins!”

  Luke grinned. We’re two Shooting Stars that can’t be stopped. Biggs had come up with that line, as well the name for their very exclusive club, after the local authorities announced that each of them had shot more womp rats than any other bounty collector. Because Biggs happened to know that it annoyed Luke when anyone over the age of seven didn’t know the proper name for meteors, Biggs couldn’t resist joking, “We may never be meteors, but we’ll always be Shooting Stars.”