Soundtrack:
❶ "The Moisture Farm" • Star Wars: A New Hope OST
❷ "Binary Sunset" • Star Wars: A New Hope OST
❶ As the dual suns crept across the sky of the desert planet of Tatooine, a young man stood at the crossroads. Yearning for adventure, excitement, and—most of all—flying, young Luke was finishing one of his last meals around the family table. The Force was moving in ways not even his overprotective uncle could prevent.
But this day's end was just like any other. The hum of the cooling unit and food processor filled the domed, subterranean dwelling. Thick plaster walls kept out the daytime heat as well as the nighttime cold.
Trying not to slurp, seven-year-old Luke spooned his soup into his mouth. His gaze darted between Aunt Beru and Uncle Owen as he looked for the slightest hint of displeasure. Luke had learned early on that children were to be seen and not heard at the dinner table.
Small for his age, many thought he was five or six, not seven going on eight. Sand filled his fluffy blond hair, and grease smudged his tunic and leggings. But how does Aunt Beru expect me to stay clean after fiddling with the moisture vaps every day with Uncle Owen? He's just as filthy.
No machine had stumped him yet, whether it was a moisture vaporator, Aunt Beru's food processor, or Uncle Owen's V-35 Courier landspeeder. Even under the broiling binary suns of Tatooine, nothing thrilled him more than figuring out why something wasn't working, unless it was flying his T-16 Skyhopper through Beggar's Canyon.
That was one thing Uncle Owen could not take away. The crazy old wizard Ben who lived out beyond the Dune Sea had flown it in last season. When Uncle Owen had ordered it removed from his property, Ben had waved his hand in front of his face and said words that Luke was sure he would never forget—"It's not mine. It's Luke's. It belonged to his father."
Uncle Owen's craggy face had transformed from spluttering indignation to bright red. He had looked to the skies before nodding his head. "Now get out of here, you crazy old wizard. And don't come back again."
While Luke still wondered about his mysterious father, of whom the mere mention sent Uncle Owen into fits, he could forget it all when he was flying. Soaring through the canyon, avoiding perilous death—the thrill and excitement—that's what Luke yearned for.
It was only then that he could dream of one day flying into space, joining the Imperial Academy, and doing his part for the Empire. It was only then that Uncle Owen could not crush his dreams and remind him he was inheriting the moisture farm. It was only then he could dream of adventure, of fame, but most of all, of freedom from his uncle.
Uncle Owen's heavy fist rattled the table, jerking Luke out of his daydream. The boy returned his attention to his vegetable soup and wiped the broth that dribbled down his chin before anyone else noticed.
He rubbed his grimy hand on his sand-colored leggings and tunic. The color not only reflected the intense heat of the binary suns of Tatooine, but it also camouflaged him from the Sand People while he was out on the farm. Aunt Beru would have it no other way.
Orphaned by the Clone Wars, his aunt and uncle had taken him in when his parents had both died, shortly after his birth. When Luke asked about them, neither his aunt nor his uncle would tell him anything about their deaths—or anything about his parents at all. He did not even know their names.
As Luke sat at the dinner table quietly eating, he could feel the tension between them. Owen Lars scared Luke. The man stood over a meter and three-quarters tall. His stocky stature disguised the farmer's strength. His brown hair was slowly graying, and his blue eyes could pierce straight through you. He always wanted things done a certain way, and it seemed to Luke that he could never do anything right.
The only time Uncle Owen was happy was when he was with his wife Beru. And the only thing that kept Luke from running away from the farm, besides the marauding Sand People, was his Aunt Beru. This compassionate woman sported soft, brown hair that she braided at the back of her head, and her eyes could warm your heart with just a small glance.
Unable to have children of her own, she cared for Luke deeply. Moreover, she understood Luke—his passions, his restlessness, his frustrations—at least it seemed that way when she defended Luke against Uncle Owen's complaints and discipline.
Because of her love, it only took one frown from Aunt Beru for Luke to straighten up. He never wanted to disappoint her.
His aunt spoke after a few minutes of silence. "What did Bandunga want?"
Uncle Owen harrumphed.
Luke turned his eyes to his uncle's stubborn face.
"There's to be an Imperial census. We have to go to Mos Eisley and register."
With widened eyes and a tense mouth, Aunt Beru jerked her head to Luke. "All of us? Can't Luke and I stay back, while you register us?"
"Stormtroopers will be distributed around the planet to round up any stragglers. There's no way out, Beru." Owen shook his head before slurping another spoonful of soup.
Beru stared at Luke again.
He could feel something was wrong, something she and Uncle Owen did not want to tell him. He had a feeling it had to do with his parents.
"I can take Luke to Ben. I'm sure he could protect us, Owen."
"No, Beru! We will not do anything with that crazy old wizard. Don't ever bring up his name again in this house. Do you understand?" Uncle Owen leaned on the table, his cheeks flaring red in anger.
Luke shrunk back in fear. He had never seen his uncle angry at his aunt before. The young boy gazed at his aunt. Her face was filled with fear. The boy could not tell if she was afraid of her husband or afraid for Luke.
Beru gasped as she pulled Luke to her side.
He squirmed under Beru's grip.
"If we go, Owen, we'll have to register Luke under his name. If the Imperials find out that he's here ..."
"They'll find out anyway if we don't show up. The Imperials have already demanded the local records. An agent is already at Tosche Station. He's been asking about everyone around here—names, ages, relations. There's nothing we can do about this Beru but hope that by following the order, we'll slip through unnoticed." Taking a haunch of meat and gnawing a piece off the bone, Owen relaxed in his chair.
Luke did not understand. Is Uncle Owen in trouble with the law? Why would the Imperials care about a seven-year-old boy anyway?
Beru nodded in agreement. "When?"
"Empire Day."
"Empire Day? We can't go on Empire Day, Uncle Owen! That's my birthday, and you promised that you would take me to the pod races on my eighth birthday! You promised!" Luke's eyes grew large, and his voice raised in pitch to a hideous whine.
"Son, I'm sorry, but there's nothing that we can do about this," Owen said, placing his hand on Luke's. "I'll make it up to you another day."
"That's what you said last year and the year before that." Luke jerked his hand away and stood up, not even asking to be dismissed. "I guess I'll never get to do anything fun, ever."
Luke marched out of the dwelling, into the desert.
Owen called, "Son."
Luke turned back before storming out of the door. "I'm not your son."
"Owen." Beru crossed to him and wrapped her arms around him from behind. She rested her head on his left shoulder. "Let him cool off."
"Beru, that boy doesn't know what we're risking keeping him here."
"He would if you would tell him the truth."
"No, I won't have him going off on some half-witted, idealistic crusade like Anakin did. I won't have him turn into a monster." Owen crossed his arms. "I owe it to Shmi. We owe it to Padmé to make sure he turns out right."
"I'll talk to him, Owen. He'll listen to me." Beru kissed her husband on the cheek before heading up the stairs to the exterior of the homestead.
❷ Beru found Luke standing on an orange boulder, gazing out at the binary suns as they lowered on the horizon over the Dune Sea. Funnels of sand blew across the dunes as the twin suns cast an orange glow upon the desert and the sky above. Opposite the suns, two of the three moons crested the horizon.
Luke knew she was coming before she arrived. He could feel her presence, her warmth, her concern. As he inhaled her scent, a part of him luxuriated in her love.
She put her arm around his shoulder and looked at him, pursing her lips together. Eventually she spoke. "You know he loves, don't you?" she asked. "In his own way."
"Yeah, I guess so." The boy shrugged his shoulder as he kicked a rock.
"And I love you, Luke." She rubbed his back.
"I know you do, and I love you, Aunt Beru. It's not that I'm not grateful, it's just ..."
"You long for adventure? To fly across the stars?"
"How come you get it but Uncle Owen doesn't?"
"I knew your father. You're very much like him." She stroked his hair, shaking some of the grit from it. "You have his eyes, you know, and his chin."
"My father! Aunt Beru, why won't you tell me anything about him? I don't even know his name." Luke thrust his lower lip out as his pitch climbed in a petulant whine.
Beru knelt beside him and grabbed his shoulders, turning him to face her. "Shh. It's for your safety, Luke. If the Empire knew that you were alive, they would take you from us."
"Why?"
"Because of your father." When Luke opened his mouth to ask another question, Beru laid her finger on his lips. "Hush. I can't tell you any more."
Tears raced to Luke's eyes. He rubbed them away with the back of his hand.
Beru bit her lip and sighed before continuing. She stroked his face softly, catching an errant tear that trailed down his dusty cheek. "Luke, when we go to Mos Eisley, we are going to list you as our son, as Luke Lars, not as Luke Skywalker. It is very important that you stick close to us while we are there and don't talk to anybody else."
The boy remained still, trying to comprehend what his aunt had just told him.
"Your life depends on it."
"But—"
"No. Luke, the Empire is hunting down children, taking them from their families, turning them into something evil. And if they find you—just promise me you'll keep your mouth shut and won't wander."
He nodded his head, still confused, but he could feel the fear emanating from his aunt. He hadn't felt fear like this since he broke his arm a few years ago. "I promise, Aunt Beru."
She smiled at her nephew as she stood. "I'll talk to your uncle. I'm sure there will be lots of spacecraft in Mos Eisley for the census. Maybe we can go check them out after we're done with the clerks."
The young boy jumped up and down with a smile beaming across his face. "Really, Aunt Beru? Really? Spacecraft? Not just atmospheric craft?"
Beru nodded, returning the smile. His joy was infectious.
After a few moments, Beru turned back to the sunset. He could feel the import of her words bathed in fear. "Luke, your uncle is afraid for your safety. He thinks the safest place, the safest thing for you to do, is to stay on this farm all your life."
"But you don't?" He looked up at her, the orange sunset making her face even warmer in his eyes.
"I want you happy. All happiness comes with risk." She gazed into his electric-blue eyes. "I know one day I'll have to let you go, let you find your own path. Whatever that path may be, it will have its own dangers. But I would rather have you pursue what you know is right—your destiny—Luke, than to live a life you were never meant to."
Beru turned back to the sunset, her arm around her nephew, as they watched the suns disappear from the horizon.
Did you know . . .
● Before you all tell me that Luke was not born on Empire Day, I know. This is a plot point I don't want to spoil for you. Go along with it. You'll find out later how it is resolved.
● I wrote chapters 3, 4, and 5 for a short-story contest for a book club back in October 2016. I expanded it during NaNoWriMo 2016. I worked some more on it for the April 2017 NaWriMo. (Long before Kenobi was even though of, and, yes, I think someone at LFL has been reading my stories.)
● This is Alternate Timeline fanfiction. You will find items in this book that do not adhere to canon. I hope you enjoy where I deviated from canon. By the way, this story falls 6 years before Rebels starts.
● For those of you who believe Beru needs a bigger part, this is for you.
Tell me what you think . . .
● Which forwards (foreshadowing that propels the story forward) did you catch in this chapter?