The old man's house was small and neat. Luke didn't remember
ever smelling
anything as clean as this place. The air was recycled and cool,
and the floor
was clean. He sat nervously on a bench as his new owner dug through
a trunk.
Various oddments were carefully set aside.
"Ah! I knew I had one here somewhere." The old man stood
up and checked
the power gauges. "Still good. I haven't used this since
my last mission
with your father."
"My father?" Luke was stunned by the news. "You knew my father, sir?"
"Lie back, son, and open the left side of your pants."
Resignedly, Luke laid back and willed himself hard, knowing the day
had been
too good to last. To his surprise, the old man pressed the device
to his
hip. "Let's see if I still remember how to do this," he mumbled
as he
punched codes, and then the whirr of a small medical laser filled the
house.
Luke gripped the sides of the bench, and breathed slowly. He'd
tolerated worse.
"I haven't lost my touch. Close them up." A small cylindar
shone dully in
his palm. "Luke Skywalker, you're a free man." He glared
at the implant,
and it melted into nothingness.
"Free? Skywalker? Where'd it go?"
"I think I said both of those, yes. The implant, or rather its
component
elements, are being filtered out of the air right now by the recycler."
"Tell me everything, please? I don't remember anything before
I woke up in
the mechanic's quarters at Jabba's. I didn't even know I had
a last name.
Do you have a name, or do I just call you sir?"
"Very well. I am Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi in exile. Your father,
Anakin
Skywalker, asked me to care for and train you before he died.
I placed
you with my brother and his wife. Eight years ago, their homestead
was
burned out by sand-people. I was off-planet. When I returned
four years
ago, I followed the cold trail to Jabba, and found you. Thirteen,
and
looking so like your father. I suspect you have either trauma-induced
amnesia or you were mind-wiped. There are those who do not want
the last
of the Skywalkers to become a Jedi."
"Jedi?"
"For a thousand generations, the Jedi were the guardians of peace and
justice
in the galaxy. Before the dark times. Before the Empire."
The old man looked
pensive, and Luke wonderd if he should say something. He had
a million
questions, but he wasn't sure if Obi-Wan would want to answer them.
"Now, young Luke, shall we begin your training?" The lassitude
dissolved,
and the blue eyes twinkled. "First proper clothing and a haircut.
Here.
These were your father's. They may be a little long." From
one of the
stacks, Obi-Wan handed him a pile of clothing. "The second bedroom
is
yours to use."
Luke carried the clothes into the small bedroom. A narrow bed,
a small closet, and a chest of drawers furnished it. A single
2D
sat on the chest. He picked it up. A very tall young man,
in his
early twenties, stood with a shorter, older man. They both wore
the same cream and tan robes Obi-Wan had just given him. He stripped
out of the gold harem pants, the last vestige of his time with Jabba,
and stepped into the soft underwear. It chafed obscenely, he
hadn't
worn any for five years. Ignoring the sensation, he pulled on
the
cream colored trousers. Obi-Wan appeared at the door in response
to
his burst of laughter.
"A little long?" Luke laughed again. The pants ended a good
ten cents
below his feet.
"Finish dressing and come out. I'll hem them up to fit you.
It's
entirely possible you haven't gotten your full growth yet."
"Yes, sir."
"Luke, if you are to be my apprentice, the proper form of address is
'master.' I hate to require it, but there are formalities."
"Yes, Master."
"Very good, Apprentice. Haste, our meal awaits us."
At the mention of food, Luke pulled on the shirt and overtunic.
He belted
them. Since Obi-Wan, his master, he corrected himself, had left
the cloak
at the door, he decided to hang his own there, too.
Luke walked back into the main room. Obi-Wan carefully hid a smile.
The boy was built like his mother, and was practically swimming in
his
father's clothing. He cuffed the sleeves that draped over Luke's
hands.
"Come eat, Apprentice. We'll alter them after lunch."
Having missed breakfast, Luke attacked the meal. Obi-Wan sat back,
eating
the bread and fruit, watching as the boy ate neatly but rapidly.
He looked
so like Ani, even the gestures were the same. The table was cleared
to the
plates within minutes.
"Are you still hungry, Luke?"
The boy looked up a little shyly. "A little, Master. May I have more?"
"Apprentice, you may eat as much as you need. I remember quite
a lot about
seventeen year old boys. My own master had trouble keeping me
fed, as I
had trouble keeping your father fed. This, too, shall pass."
"Thank you." Luke took the empty dishes to the sonic sterilizer,
before
punching up another meal for himself.
When he finished and took his plate to the recycler, Obi-Wan had him
stand on
a small platform while he marked out where the hems should go.
Luke changed
out of the Jedi clothing and into a nightshirt at least three sizes
too
big to wait while his clothes were altered.
"You sew? By hand?"
"I picked up many skills during my apprenticeship. I seldom have
need of an
autovalet."
Luke asked question after question, each of which Obi-Wan answered patiently,
his sadness at the boy's ignorance growing deeper with every word.
Luke had
a clever mind, and his education had been limited to mechanical work,
flying,
dancing and sex. One more thing to rectify.
Suddenly, the boy looked distressed. "Han!"
"What?"
"He's a pilot of Jabba's. He was making a Kessel Run in exchange
for me.
The only reason Jabba sold me to you today was to spite him."
"Would he have been a better master than Jabba?"
"Much. He's fond of me. He's good to me. He even showed
me the implant
extractor he'd gotten to use when he got back and Jabba signed me over."
Seeing his apprentice's clear infatuation, the old Jedi conceded.
"We'll
get word to him. You can see him when he's on-planet."
Luke looked about to say something, and then held his tongue.
"And I can see about a double bed." An impish grin crossed the
old man's
face. Luke almost blushed. "You love him very much.
You can't hide your
feelings, Luke. You shine, and your Force signature shines brighter."
"Force signature?"
"A lesson for later. Now off with the nightshirt, and let me cut your hair."
Luke hesitated with the nightshirt.
"Come, son. You don't want all the hair trickling down amid your clothes."
Obi-Wan spread a cloth under a chair as he spoke and went for the snips.
Luke stripped to his underwear and sat down, stroking his ponytail
sadly.
He wouldn't miss being dragged around by it, but he would miss Han
playing
with it, caressing it, wrapping it around the both of them as they
made
love. He unbound it for the last time.
The first thing Obi-Wan did was pull a handful of hair into a smaller
ponytail, and clip the length until it was a mere handspan long.
He bound
off a second lock behind Luke's ear and cut the back to just above
the nape
of his neck. The front, he clipped even shorter until the fine
strands
stood up on their own. Using a soft brush, he dusted the fragments
away.
"You get dressed, Luke. I'll clear up. We have a small ritual
before I
teach you more."
Luke carried the clothes to his room, and dressed apprehensively.
Rituals
with Jabba usually meant someone's death. But he wasn't afraid
of the old man.
He looked at his reflection in the small mirror. His hair was
cut identically
to the man in the photo, except for the braid.
When he returned to the main room, Obi-Wan had spread a pair of small
mats
on the floor. The old man knelt on one and indicated that Luke
should
kneel across from him.
"In ages past, when a Jedi Master selected his padawan, his apprentice,
from
the ranks of the initiates, a grand festival rang through the halls
of the
temple on Coruscant. The Initiate was taken out of his white
clothes and
given the tan and cream of a padawan. The Master cut his hair
in the main
hall, shearing away the long ponytail of childhood, and replacing it
with
the cut you wear. (One merely had to pray the Master had steady
hands,
lest one look like it had been done in the dark.) Then the braid
was
plaited, beaded and bound as a training bond was established.
I did this
for your father, Anakin. My master, Qui-Gon Jinn, did it for
me. His master
did it, and so on, back into the mists of time and legend. Now,
Luke
Skywalker, son of my friend and padawan Anakin, I take you as my padawan
learner, honoring the vow I made your father."
Obi-Wan reached forward and took hold of the loose lock of hair behind
Luke's ear. "Three parts go into this: master, apprentice and
Force.
The Force binds us, permeates us, guides us and obeys us." He
swiftly
plaited a braid in the hair. "These beads mark you. The
first is the
gold of the Jedi order. The second is my own, identical to the
one my
master gave me. It says, for those who can read it, that you
learn from
Obi-Wan Kenobi. The third is the one I have selected for you."
He held
up a Travig skystone, square-cut, its gold veins wide and deep.
"When you
take a padawan, you will give him an identical one. The bindings
are
symbolic of the training bond we form, and the binding of the Force."
All the time Obi-Wan was speaking, Luke was aware of a growing feeling
of connectedness. He'd had flashes of insight before. The
other slaves
had even used him to find lost objects. Now, he could almost
hear the
older man's thoughts, like the first whispering gusts of a sandstorm.
//Yes, that is the Force, my boy.//
//? I can hear you.//
//A training bond. Here, the first meditation.//
Luke took the proffered information from his teacher's mind and set
about studying it as he knelt on the mat. It intrigued him in
the
same way speeder engines and dance rhythms did. He studied the
elegant construct from all angles and began trying to insinuate
himself into it. Success came at last, and his entire body glowed
with
contentment. Coming up from the meditation, he saw Obi-Wan smiling
at him.
"Very good, apprentice. It took me three days to solve that riddle
when
I encountered it. You took four hours. Are you ready for
dinner?"
"I'm always ready for food, Master. Shall I program?"
"If you would like. One day, we will leave this place. In
our
next dwelling, we shall have a true kitchen and I shall teach you
to cook organic food. There is more to eating than programming
the
taste and texture of your nutrimix."
Luke put the two plates on the table, and joined his master for the
meal.
Obi-Wan watched in amusement as Luke put away two bowls of stew, half
a loaf of bread, some fruit and a small cake. The foodsynth would
be
getting a lot of use with him here.
After the meal, they went outside. Silently, they watched Tatoo
I and
Tatoo II set beyond the stony ridges of the Wastes.
"Can you feel it, Luke? All the life? How does it feel?
How does it
sound? My master heard it as a song, with each life singing a
single
note. Your father heard it as an engine, each life a separate
humming
part. What do you hear?"
"I hear the wind, Master. The lives are like breaths of air.
All blend
to form the wind. The wind brings the dew, but it also brings
the
sandstorm."
"Excellent. Come inside and review the first meditation again
before bed.
The nights are cold."
The days fell into an easy pattern: housekeeping, breakfast, vaporator
collections and maintenance, meditation, lunch, general education,
training
exercises, dinner, the sunset, more meditation and bed. Luke
fell into it
easily, finding the work less onerous than it had been at Jabba's.
The
meditations varied and engaged his mind. Some were mental puzzles,
others
discussions on the nature of things.
Weeks, then months slipped by. His hair grew, and Obi-wan cut
it. He grew,
and Obi-Wan altered his clothing. He would never be as tall as
his father,
it seemed. Plentiful food and strenuous exercise had hardened
the new weight
into muscle. No longer the slender dancer, he found he was far
more at home
in the new shape of his body. Even the desires which had driven
him nearly
crazy in the first months began to subside. He found the exercise
reduced
his need to masturbate to twice a day instead of the half dozen times
that
had been the norm for the first month after leaving Jabba.
Obi-Wan told him stories of his father, of the Old Jedi ways.
He thrilled to
tales of the Clone Wars and listened with rapt attention to the romance
of his parents. Thoughts of Han came with less urgency.
Obi-Wan assured him
that the spacer had not put in on Tatooine in almost a year.
In the second year with Obi-Wan, they acquired a computer with Stellnet
and
he began accessing history files. Slowly, he began piecing together
the
history he did not get from the Imperial net over breakfast.
Obi-Wan always
insisted they watch it, even though Luke sensed his distress more clearly
with each passing day. One morning, a black gargoyle filled the
screen.
Darth Vader, the Emperor's personal aide, announced a sweep of the
Corellian
shipyards, rounding up rebel sympathizers. The masked warrior
demonstrated
the fate of one of the sympathizers. Luke perceived his master's
acute
agony, and turned off the holo before the man in the picture died.
"Master? Why does he upset you so?"
"Vader was my last pupil. He turned to evil and betrayed the Jedi
order.
He took service under the emperor and eradicated us. He murdered
your
father, and many other good knights."
Even two months ago, Luke would have been horrified and furious.
Now, with the
first evidence of Jedi calm, he stood and extended a hand to his master.
"Come meditate with me."
Obi-Wan relaxed into the meditation, a serenity koan, feeling Luke through
the bond. He listened to the Force, and heard what it told him.
"No exercise today, apprentice. We are doing something very different."
He went to the chest of oddments and pulled out a tube, and offered
it
to Luke. "Your father's lightsaber. It may not handle as
well as your
own would, but we haven't time to build one."
"You sense it, too, Master. What is it?"
"A nexus in the Force. Momentous things are in the offing, Luke.
I
can only trust our few months of training have been enough. We
go to
Anchorhead tomorrow. Today, you practice with the saber."
The wooden saber drills had been one of his favorite exercises,
and they served him well. He didn't take a single hit from the
training remote that Obi-Wan set on him. He sparred with his
master
with the sabers set at low power.
Over lunch, Obi-Wan said "You won't be winning the Padawan Division
Saber
Tournament, but it will suffice. Things converged more quickly
than
I expected. I fear my foreseeing fails as my life approaches
its end."
"Master, don't say that! You won't die. You can't leave me half-trained."
"I said approaches, apprentice. The prescience has been failing
for some
years now. Blame Jabba for your lack of training. Had he
sold you six
years ago, you would be at the height of your powers. We shall
meditate,
do the closing maintenence, and pack."
Luke cleared the table and settled into meditation across from his master.
The light breeze of the Force was gathering, as the zephyrs gathered
before
a storm. Soon, they would form winds, and gales, and the howls
would be heard
for miles, until even the non-Jedi would feel it. Something very,
very
large was coming.
******