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Star WarsThe Last of the JediBook 1The Desperate Missionby Jude WatsonCHAPTER ONEDusk always took him by surprise. On this two-sun world, it started early, one sun dropping first, then the other chasing behind it in a fast slide to the horizon. Harsh sunlight gave way to long shadows that painted the canyon floors with gray.Another day gone. Another day to come. Each one the same.Obi-Wan Kenobi ducked his head as he exited his small dwelling on Tatooine. It was time to make the journey over the arid landscape of the Jundland Wastes. Time to lurk above a moisture farm and watch a small baby crawl around the compound. Time to reassure himself that one more day had passed, and Luke Skywalker was well.He made sure the door was secure. The Sand People were wary of him, but he was careful with security. No one was safe from the savagery of their foraging raids.His dwelling was small and simple, a hovel, really, carved out of the canyon wall. He had made it comfortable - not because he cared about his comfort, but because it gave him something to do. In those first, raging months, it had soothed him to sweep the drifts of sand from the floors, fashion a heating system, repair a cracked wall that let in breaches of sunlight in the early morning and spewed tiny volcanoes of sand during the fierce, frequent windstorms.He had found the home by accident, by luck. He had simply begun riding his eopie in a widening circle around the Lars farm until he found someplace close enough to hike to the farm but far enough away that the family would not take much note of him. A transient, looking to start a farm or trade with Jawas had abandoned it, most likely. No doubt he or she had eventually discovered that only the hardiest and luckiest survived on Tatooine.Owen and Beru Lars knew he was here. Their friendship with him was an uneasy one; they knew he had saved Luke, but Luke's aunt and uncle also knew the threat that he'd brought with him to Tatooine. They were aware that he came by to observe the boy, but it was agreed that they would ignore him, so Luke would learn to ignore him, too. He was grateful for their vigilance, for it meant that they were vigilant against strangers as well.And who could blame them? Obi-Wan thought, trudging through the sand. Luke had been born in a time of violence and misery. Naturally they would want to protect him. They would not want him to end up in the hands of the Empire - or the Sand People. Or end up like Obi-Wan, a warrior turned into an old man overnight by sorrow and grief.Was there anything inside him anymore? He wondered this, lying on his sleep couch at night, staring at the rough stone ceiling. How could a being be numb and full of pain at the same time?There had been so many that he cared about. And now just about everyone he'd loved was dead.The names and faces would begin in his mind. Qui-Gon. Siri. Tyro Caladian. Mace Windu.The apprentices - Darra Thel-Tanis. Tru Veld. Their Masters - Ry-Gaul. Soara Antana.And the Jedi slaughtered in the purge. For it had been just that - a slaughter, shocking, devastating, quick... but not quick enough for the victims.His dearest friends, Bant and Garen. The imperious Jocasta Nu. The gentle Ali Alann and Barriss Offee. The warriors - Shaak Ti, Kit Fisto, Luminara Unduli. And the great Jedi Masters - Ki-Adi-Mundi, Adi Gallia, Plo Koon....Gone. The word would toll in his head.Gone.Gone.Jedi he'd fought alongside, studied with, laughed with - a roll call of the dead that thumped out a drumbeat of pain with every heartbeat.And then, as dawn would bring a blush of light to his ceiling, he would turn, as he always did, to the last, worst thing. The thing he could not avoid looking at, the thing that gave him the most awful pain.The boy he'd raised and loved like a son had become a traitor. A killer. A monster. A convert to the dark side, a testament to Obi-Wan's failure to guide, to protect. The boy, Anakin Skywalker, had died at the hands of the Emperor, and the Sith Lord Darth Vader had been born in his place.At first, Obi-Wan had thought that Anakin had died in the flames of a volcano on Mustafar. It was months later that he'd realized what had happened, that the Emperor had kept him alive, or, at least, the part he wanted to remain - the hate and the power. Obi-Wan had seen Darth Vader's image on a datarecorder he'd found in an alley of Mos Eisley - it contained a HoloNet report - and he had known at once, with a sense of shock so profound it had made him ill, that Lord Darth Vader had once been Anakin Skywalker.The only being in the galaxy who could understand the depths of his grief was in exile as well, and he was forbidden to contact him. Yoda was on Dagobah, living in isolation in the middle of a swamp so hidden no one would venture there.And the spirit who could help him, who had promised to help him - Qui- Gon - could not appear to him. Instead, he had only heard his voice.You are not ready for the training.But I am, Master. I have nothing else now.That is why, my Padawan, you are not ready.It was hard not to feel impatience, even anger against Qui-Gon. Obi- Wan struggled with this emotion daily. It was his Master who had charged him to take Anakin on as his apprentice. And now it was Qui-Gon who was withholding the knowledge he'd learned from the Ancient Order of the Whills, a training that could bring Obi-Wan some measure of peace. He could learn to be one with the Force but retain his consciousness.Would that mean he could lose this pain, this grief? Obi-Wan wondered.Obi-Wan saw the Lars homestead ahead. He stopped for a moment to make sure that Owen was not patrolling the perimeter. It was late, the shadows long, the suns slipping behind the hills. Beru and Owen were always sure to be inside the below-ground compound by dusk.He walked forward, feeling as much a shadow as the ones that reached out like fingers from the hills. He bent down, flat against the ground, and looked over the rim into the main courtyard below.The baby had hair full of sunlight, and it glinted, even in this dusky light. He was laughing as he crawled after a ball that Beru rolled away from him. Was it Obi-Wan's imagination, or was the boy able to slow the ball without touching it? If the Force was there - and he knew Luke was Force-sensitive - he did not know if the boy was aware of it. Not yet. Not for a long time, if ever, without training.Beru rocked backward from her perch on the door-stop, laughing. Usually, she had something cooking about now, and she would disappear inside for a few seconds to check on it. Luke would crawl to the doorway and watch her. He seemed to feel a need to keep her in sight.Obi-Wan heard Beru's laughter, saw Luke tumbling and laughing with her. He was not even tempted to smile. Seeing Luke gave him satisfaction, but he had left smiles and laughter behind him, part of another life.Satisfaction was enough for him now. He had promised Padme that her children would be safe, and he had made it so. Leia was growing up on Alderaan, the adopted daughter of Bail Organa, the kindest and noblest man Obi-Wan knew, and his wife, the Queen. He wished Padme could know that her children were more than well-cared for - they were loved.But Padm� - fierce, sad, beautiful Padme - was dead, too.Owen Lars emerged from the dwelling. That was Obi-Wan's signal to leave. Darkness was falling fast, and Owen was about to activate the KPR perimeter droids. Obi-Wan lingered for a moment, watching as Beru pretended to chase Luke inside the dwelling. He saw the light spilling out from the doorway and could almost feel the gentle heat, almost smell their food.He turned his back against it and felt the chill against his face. Without anyone noticing, Obi-Wan Kenobi walked away into the growing darkness.The next night, Obi-Wan maneuvered through the noisy crowd at the cantina in Mos Eisley. He journeyed on an eopie through secret trails to the spaceport once a month for supplies, and always under the cover of darkness. When he did, he always stopped at the cantina. It was a magnet for the worst of the galaxy - itinerant space pilots, adventurers, criminals. Creatures who greedily supped on gossip and rumor as well as bantha stew and ale. Obi-Wan needed to keep in touch with what was happening in the galaxy. He could withdraw, but he had to stay informed.The Galactic Senate was still operating, but it served more as a discussion group than a governing body. The Emperor controlled the majority, who simply approved of anything he proposed. Bail Organa was still there, fighting when and how he could. He refused to give the Emperor the satisfaction of seeing him resign. Obi-Wan kept up with these happenings, but he resolved to keep his distance from them. He saw the daily erosion of liberties from afar, as though they had no relation to how he lived his life any longer. If he allowed himself to feel frustration or rage, he was afraid it would overtake him.He wore his hood low over his face and picked a dark corner. Thanks to a liberal use of bribes, the one-eyed Abyssin bartender watched out for him and made sure he was left alone. Here he was Ben Kenobi, a half-crazy hermit who had no need for companionship. A drink was brought by a scurrying waiter, who set it down and ran off to service a table of traders almost ready to brawl before their multicolored concoctions arrived.Obi-Wan had chosen his table carefully. He recognized one of the group sitting next to him, a space pilot named Weasy. He was a muscular, hairy Bothan wh...
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