Beru Lars waited at the Imperial Headquarters in Mos Eisley. After selling her hydroponic produce at the Rodian grocer, she had woven her way through the dangerous city.
Fewer stormtroopers, fewer landspeeders, and fewer people in the streets today. The city cowered under martial law. Citizens hurried from alcove to alcove, keeping their faces covered with their cloaks. No one wanted to attract unnecessary Imperial attention after the massacre.
The news had even spread to Anchorhead. All of the Tusken Raiders had been rooted out and slaughtered like animals, under the decree of Darth Vader.
Life had been hard under the Hutts. Now, life was uncertain. No one knew what would happen if the planet created any more problems for the Sith Lord. Everyone worried whether the Empire would order the planet razed.
Beru worried that the same Sith Lord who had ordered this massacre had also taken Luke. It had been eight days since Empire Day, eight days of worry and little sleep.
After queueing for two hours, she finally reached a bureaucrat at a desk in the basement of the building.
"State your name and your business."
"Beru Lars, inquiring about my nephew who was taken into custody a few days ago." She took a credit chip out of her utility bag and pressed it into the man's hands.
The clerk palmed the bribe with a grin. "Imperial policy does permit visitors to prisoners, ma'am."
Beru leaned on the desk, her brow furrowed with worry. "He's not a prisoner. He was injured. Lord Vader called in a medical crew and took the boy to his ship. Look, I just want to know if my nephew is alive or dead."
The clerk looked up at Beru, irritated. "What is his name?"
"Luke. Luke Skywalker." Beru whispered the last name.
"Skywalker. Skywalker. Any relation to the Clone Wars General?" The clerk typed the name into his data console.
"I'm not sure." She had vowed after Luke was taken that she would do anything to save his life, including lie or steal. She hoped she would not have to kill, but she had not ruled out that possibility.
"Well, I don't have any record of a Luke Skywalker. Is it possible he had a different name at birth?"
Beru wrung her fingers, glancing around the room for eavesdroppers. "No, that's his name. Can you check under Luke Lars? The census clerk may have been confused, since our last name is different."
The clerk wiped the sweat off his brow. "I'm sorry, ma'am. It appears this boy doesn't exist."
Beru stumbled back, letting those words sink in. She had heard him just the night before in her dreams, calling her. It was so real. He must be alive.
Beru dared to ask one more question. "How do I communicate with Lord Vader?"
"Lord Vader does not communicate with civilians, ma'am."
"Then tell me which officer could send him a message for me."
The clerk pushed a button under his counter. "Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to leave. I'm sorry about your nephew, but there's nothing I can do."
Beru turned to see two stormtroopers behind her, aiming their blasters at her. The woman grabbed her bag and turned to exit. "You have not heard the last of this. When Lord Vader finds out that you prevented me from communicating with him, I will be sure to mention your name."
The stormtroopers pushed her out the door onto the street and into the suffocating heat of Mos Eisley.
It had been eight days now—eight days of nightmares when he slept, eight days of pain when he was awake, eight days of boredom. This med bay chamber trapped his yearning spirit, just as if he were imprisoned in a brig.
His father, whom he was required to call "Lord Vader" in public, spent a few hours with him daily. However, the Sith Lord had his own duties that kept him away for long hours at a time.
Some days he would visit Luke, happy to see him. Other days, the man was in a foul mood. Vader would never tell Luke what was bothering him, but the boy could feel conflict burning within him.
After the second day of Vader's foul mood and even more equipment destroyed in his room, Luke challenged himself to make his father laugh. He had heard it once, just barely, on that first day. If his father could find the joy in life again, things could be better for them all. Maybe, one day, they could all go back to Tatooine and live on the farm.
The young boy longed to see his aunt, to have her hold him, to have her chase away his nightmares. He had woken himself up screaming her name the last few nights, only to find his father in his room.
Tonight, Luke had woken himself up again. He was drenched in sweat and shaking. The hatch burst open, admitting his father. A medic followed him in.
"Lord Vader, there is no need to disturb yourself. The boy's just had a nightmare. It's the result of his head injury." The medic adjusted the intravenous drip in Luke's arm. He took out a hypodermic needle to add the sedative to the boy's drip bag.
"No, no sedatives. Is this what you've been giving the boy?" Vader grabbed the device and crushed it. "No wonder he's screaming every night. Have you not read his chart, doctor? You don't give sedatives to someone with that high of a midichlorian count. You're fortunate I haven't started training him yet, or he could have destroyed this entire sector."
"My lord, the boy must get his rest. We start Bacta treatments tomorrow. You know the risks if he loses consciousness in the tank."
Vader turned on the doctor and leaned over him. "Leave us. Now. And no more sedatives."
"Yes, Lord Vader." He exited immediately, leaving the crushed medical instruments on the floor.
Vader waved his hand, shutting the hatch with the Force. He sat on the edge of the bed with Luke.
The boy looked up at his hulking father. "You could feel my dream, couldn't you, Daddy?"
"Yes, Son. I feel everything. We are connected through the Force as well as blood." Vader smoothed Luke's sweaty hair. "Tomorrow, they are going to start a special treatment on you. I'll stay with you the whole time."
"What type of treatment?"
"You'll be in a tank of liquid for a few hours. You'll have an oxygen mask to help you breathe."
"Like yours?" Luke touched his father's helmet, running his fingers around the contours. The mask always fascinated him.
"No, smaller, and just over your mouth. The liquid is very special. It will heal your wounds. You should be entirely healed in a few days, now that the bones have knit in your arm." He rested his hand on Luke's left arm.
"Wish we had that bone knitter back at the homestead. Took weeks for my leg to heal a few years ago."
"How did you break your leg?"
"Scrambling down a rocky cliff, chasing a droid. Lost my grip and fell a few meters. Uncle Owen was close. Boy, he was sure angry." Luke smirked at his father. "Had to take me into Anchorhead for a healer. I cost him a lot of money that season, money we didn't have."
Vader hung his head. Luke could not read his facial expressions through his mask, but he could feel his father thinking. He felt his father's anger swell.
"You are the son of royalty, and you were forced to live on Tatooine, as what, an indentured servant to your uncle, who couldn't even afford proper medical care?"
"Daddy, it's okay. I like it there."
"But don't you hate the sand?"
"Oh, sure, it's coarse, and rough, and irritating, and it gets everywhere. But Aunt Beru makes everything all right. And there's nothing like watching the sunset as the two suns paint the desert orange. It's beautiful."
Luke felt his father's longing for the sunsets. The boy could see the suns shining through their connection.
"You're right. The Tatooine sunsets are beautiful. But is that all you want to do when you're older, stay on Tatooine and be a farmer?"
The boy looked up at the mask, his eyes crinkling with glee. "No, I want to fly, be a fighter pilot, or even a pod racer! Uncle Owen was going to take me to the pod races at Mos Espa on Empire Day, but then we had to go to that stupid census."
Vader shuddered. "There is no way you will race pods. Is that understood, Luke? It's too dangerous. Those pilots play for keeps."
"Yes, Daddy." Luke slumped in his bed with a pout. "But how about a fighter pilot?"
"Maybe."
Luke's eyes lit up.
"I'll teach you."
"You can fly?"
"I will have you know I am the best starpilot in the galaxy, and I've even raced pods." Vader pulled himself to his fullest stature.
The boy's eyes widened at that boast. He could feel the pride in his father, the pleasure as he remembered his younger days. "Tell me a story, Daddy."
Vader breathed a few cycles and chuckled. "Once upon a time there was a little Togruta named Snips and her best friend named Skyguy, who was also the best starpilot in the galaxy."
Luke smiled when he heard his father laugh.
Did you know . . .
● Another Beauty and the Beast inspired scene.
There's something sweet
And almost kind
But he was mean and he was coarse and unrefined
But now he's dear, and so unsure
I wonder why I didn't see it there before.
Tell me what you think . . .
● Will Luke ever see Beru again?