Free Trilogy by George Lucas Page A

angry. “It’s nothing,” he mumbled, still not meeting Luke’s gaze. “A name from another time.” He squirmed nervously in his seat. “A name that can only mean trouble.”
    Luke refused to heed the implied warning and pressed on. “Is it someone related to old Ben, then? I didn’t know he had any relatives.”
    â€œYou stay away from that old wizard, you hear me!” his uncle exploded, awkwardly substituting threat for reason.
    â€œOwen …” Aunt Beru started to interject gently, but the big farmer cut her off sternly.
    â€œNow, this is important, Beru.” He turned his attention back to his nephew. “I’ve told you about Kenobi before. He’s a crazy old man; he’s dangerous and full of mischief, and he’s best left well alone.”
    Beru’s pleading gaze caused him to quiet somewhat. “That ’droid has nothing to do with him. Couldn’t have,” he grumbled half to himself. “Recording—huh! Well, tomorrow I want you to take the unit into Anchorhead and have its memory flushed.”
    Snorting, Owen bent to his half-eaten meal with determination. “That will be the end of this foolishness. I don’t care where that machine thinks it came from. I paid hard credit for it, and it belongs to us now.”
    â€œBut suppose it
does
belong to someone else,” Lukewondered. “What if this Obi-wan person comes looking for his ’droid?”
    An expression between sorrow and a sneer crossed his uncle’s seamed face at the remembrance. “He won’t. I don’t think that man exists anymore. He died about the same time as your father.” A huge mouthful of hot food was shoveled inward. “Now forget about it.”
    â€œThen it
was
a real person,” Luke murmured, staring down at his plate. He added slowly, “Did he know my father?”
    â€œI said forget about it,” Owen snapped. “Your only worry as far as those two ’droids are concerned is having them ready for work tomorrow. Remember, the last of our savings is tied up in those two. Wouldn’t even have bought them if it wasn’t so near harvest.” He shook a spoon at his nephew. “In the morning I want you to have them working with the irrigation units up on the south ridge.”
    â€œYou know,” Luke replied distantly, “I think these ’droids are going to work out fine. In fact, I—” He hesitated, shooting his uncle a surreptitious glare. “I was thinking about our agreement about me staying on for another season.”
    His uncle failed to react, so Luke rushed on before his nerve failed. “If these new ’droids do work out, I want to transmit my application to enter the Academy for next year.”
    Owen scowled, trying to hide his displeasure with food. “You mean, you want to transmit the
application
next year—after the harvest.”
    â€œYou have more than enough ’droids now, and they’re in good condition. They’ll last.”
    â€œÂ â€™Droids, yes,” his uncle agreed, “but ’droids can’treplace a man, Luke. You know that. The harvest is when I need you the most. It’s just for one more season after this one.” He looked away, bluster and anger gone now.
    Luke toyed with his food, not eating, saying nothing.
    â€œListen,” his uncle told him, “for the first time we’ve got a chance for a real fortune. We’ll make enough to hire some extra hands for next time. Not ’droids—people. Then you can go to the Academy.” He fumbled over words, unaccustomed to pleading. “I need you here, Luke. You understand that, don’t you?”
    â€œIt’s another year,” his nephew objected sullenly. “Another
year
.”
    How many times had he heard that before? How many times had they repeated this identical charade with the same result?
    Convinced once more