09 - The Lars Place
The sand, rock and windswept dunes of the barren landscape
beneath us slid past quickly as we now flew with purpose toward one of the
moisture farms from earlier this morning.
The fugitives would soon be in our custody, the stolen data
extracted and returned to Lord Vader, and the 'droid or 'droids destroyed. I
unclipped the macros from my belt, snapped them on and scanned the horizon for
any sign of the moisture farm, but there was nothing yet.
I found myself wondering what could be so important that it
rattled Vader so remarkably, and how had the rebels been allowed to escape with
the stolen data in the first place.
*
The small domed entrance to the Lars' dwelling finally came into
view. Our pilot proceeded to circle around the tech dome, allowing us a good
visual scan of the farm’s layout. The main living quarters and most of the
other structures were built beneath ground, with only their rooves protruding
up to break the sandy surface.
They likely had subterranean corridors that emptied into the
common, open-air courtyard pit. The dewbacks groaned and flipped their tails
around nervously as the Sentinel settled to the ground. We touched down squarely
in the center of two sets of tracks, compressed deep in the sand by the immense
mechanical treads of the Jawa Sandcrawler that had stopped here to sell the
‘droids.
The rear hatch hissed open, and the gusting fresh air from
outside rushed in to replace the overwhelming stench from the onboard
livestock. We walked the length of the rear ramp to the ground outside and spread
out, circling around the ship toward the domed entrance of the desert
homestead.
A scruffy, aging male dressed in well-worn, but presentable
desert wraps came walking out. Etz and Topolev walked to the edge of the pit
and peered down into the open courtyard below.
The man’s eyes followed them as they walked. Felth hung back a
bit with 1265, carefully watching the rest of the farm. 4120, 0600, and I
continued on with Rogue, who walked up to the man. "Owen Lars?”
"Yeah, that’s right", Owen nodded.
"We have a purchase order that shows you bought two 'droids
yesterday from a Jawa Sandcrawler, is that correct? "
The man squinted a bit, crossing his arms, visibly unnerved by
the sudden gathering of Imperial troops on his farm, "Maybe, but why the
hell would the Empire care if I buy a couple of 'droids?"
Rogue took a step closer to the moisture farmer, "I'll ask
the questions."
Suddenly we heard the roar of engines approaching, and all
turned to see a rippling, formless shape in the distance racing toward us. A
battered swoop bike drew closer and skidded to a sideways stop in a spray of
sand and dust. An armored Mandalorian dismounted the bike and grabbed a blaster
from behind the saddle. Rogue took a step toward him as he approached us.
“I am Boba Fett. Your Captain Tyrell asked the Hutt for
assistance, and I was offered a bounty to find missing ‘droids.”
Rogue stared a moment, shaking his head, “Tyrell.” He pointed at
Fett sharply before turning his attention back to the moisture farmer, “Stay
out of our way.”
Fett stood motionless, cradling the blaster rifle, his tattered poncho
billowing and fluttering in the wind, revealing well-worn armor beneath.
Owen narrowed his eyes even more as the hairs on the back of his
neck stood on end. He had always thought it would come to something like this
one day. First the astromech spewing gibberish about Obi-Wan Kenobi and now
this. He had watched over his step-brother's child all these years, knowing in
the back of his mind that one day, the Empire that had claimed Anakin would be
back to claim his son as well.
The fact that Kenobi had remained on Tatooine, in hiding and
carefully watching over the boy from a distance, had long foreshadowed this day
and the events that were now unfolding. Owen felt sick in the pit of his
stomach . . . he hadn't seen this coming. There was no warning like there was
with the Inquisitor. The guns Beru had stashed for emergency use were still
hidden in the courtyard below, but he couldn't get to them, he was defenseless.
His mind raced to her, down in the kitchen preparing the day’s food.
Thankfully, Luke had gotten an early start with both new 'droids
repairing condensers on the South ridge, and not returning for some time. Owen
now feared for himself and his wife as he tried to settle back a bit. He had
sheltered and protected his nephew from the Empire and Ben Kenobi for too many
years to have it all unravel now because of a 'droid searching for his former
master.
He wished Kenobi and Qui Gon Jinn had never come to this place
all those years ago. Anakin would have grown up here with his mother, both
slaves to Watto. And yet, he would have been far away from the treachery that
became the Empire; the treachery and deception that ultimately twisted him into
the cold darkness he now was.
Owen’s mind reeled with the chain of events stemming from that
fated emergency landing, and the destructive ripple that had swept across the
galaxy as a result. That ripple was now a wave of Sandtroopers, breaking at his
farm on this windy morning. If any one small piece of the puzzle had been
different, he might not be in this situation now. With any luck, Luke had
already had the astromech's memory flush done.
Owen spoke, "Yeah, I bought two droids yesterday from those
greedy little bastards. They dumped their grimy ‘droids, took my money, and
headed off in that direction" he said, pointing across the Jundland Wastes
toward Anchorhead.
Rogue nodded as Owen finished speaking. "I'm sure they did,
but I need to see the 'droids you purchased. One of them may have something
that was taken from us, and we want it back."
Owen scowled, "I don't know what you're looking for, but
they aren't here dammit, they've been taken to, uh . . . Mos Espa for some
refurbishing. I paid good money for those blasted 'droids and they both still
needed work."
Fett had silently moved to edge of the pit and was scanning
everything below.
Rogue abruptly turned to 4120, "Search the farm. We need to
be sure they aren't here. You and 0600 check the power generator. Deckard, I
want you, Etz, and Topolev to check the living quarters. 1265, search the
surface structures." Our XO nodded and motioned for the rest of us to
follow him.
"I already told you they aren't here", said Owen,
uncrossing his arms.
Rogue reflexively responded as did the rest of us, stepping back
and leveling our blasters at the scruffily-bearded moisture farmer.
Fett turned his helmeted head in a calculated, measured manner,
but remained still, silently taking in what was unfolding.
Owen took a step back, slowly raising his hands. "I have no
weapons."
Rogue visually scanned the old man and nodded his confirmation
to us. The rest of us headed away to run our checks.
"We'll just wait here Mr. Lars, while we see what my troops
turn up", said Rogue.
Owen felt control slipping away, and the sickness he felt in his
stomach began twisting into a thick knot as the armor-clad Sandtroopers
descended the stairs into the homestead his father had built below. For the
first time, he hoped Kenobi was watching from a distance.
1265 headed off to inspect the rooves and surface structures
behind the courtyard pit. Etz and Topolev went off in the direction of the
living spaces in search of other family members with Etz splitting off,
following a drifting smell from what must be a food preparation area. I went
toward the garage.
Topolev uncovered a tidy, modest sleeping room for Mr. Lars and
his wife, and a second, messy sleeping room, which showed signs of someone
having been there the night prior, and looked as if someone had left in a
hurry.
Etz stepped quietly through the hallways until he heard the
churning of food processors and cookers.
"Luke, is that you? Did you forget something?" came a
voice from the next room. He descended a few steps and found an old woman
preparing drinks for a morning meal.
She turned, expecting to see Luke in the doorway, and instead
saw Etz, with his blaster lowered at her. She screamed and dropped the
container she held in her hand. The blue, milky liquid inside exploded all over
her feet and the floor as it hit the ground. She stood shaking, terrified and
transfixed. Blue milk dripped from her clothes and the lower
cabinets.
"Hold on”, said Etz. “I don't want to hurt you. We just
have a few questions for you and your husband. Who is . . . Luke?"
*
I descended a short flight of stairs and crossed a narrow
gridded gantry through a dark area where it appeared several vehicles were
stored. There was an empty, open bay with some tools and parts lying about, and
then a second bay with a T-16 Skyhopper parked in it; hardly the norm for aging
moisture farmers, but nothing else remarkable there.
I continued along the gantry until it emptied through a doorway into
a grungy, well-worn tech dome; a repair center for condensers, ‘vaporator's and
other farm machinery, including droids.
The walls were lined with all manner of diagnostic components
and tools, and had the smell of heavy oils, burnt wiring, and exhaust residue.
I stepped down to the gridded deck plate in the center of the stone room and
slowly looked around. Protruding from another parking bay adjacent to the oil
bath plunge unit was the nose of a multi-passenger, V-35 landspeeder; a bit
more in line with Owen than a skyhopper.
I looked over the repair benches and poked around a bit, lights
silently winking on and off on wall control panels, until a hooked scraping
tool and a small, round piece of metal on the repair bench caught my eye. I
moved my left hand from under the muzzle of my blaster, and picked up the small
object. It was a restraining bolt, the kind used to keep 'droids from wandering
off.
The oil in the oil bath looked like it should have been changed
out long ago, but I did notice that it was calibrated to accommodate a plunge
depth for a human-sized, bi-pedal protocol 'droid. I looked once more
around the room and pulled off my helmet, holding the bolt close to my nose.
There was a strong burnt odor and a loose black powdery residue, indicating it
had been removed recently. Slipping my bucket back on, I headed toward the
surface to show Rogue and the others what I had found.
*
I hustled up steps to the domed entrance doorway and stepped out into the sand. 4120 stood beside Rogue. Felth, Topolev, and 1265 now formed a line between the small gathering and the Sentinel. Etz had found a woman and brought her out. She stood beside her husband, shivering with fear as the cool morning wind blew over us. Fett was standing ,to the side, silent and unmoving, but I felt his eyes tracking me as I moved closer, rolling the restraining bolt over in my hand.
Rogue had his blaster trained on Lars, and Etz had his blaster
leveled at the small of the woman's back. "So then, what you're
telling me is that you did buy the 'droids, but they never even made it inside
your place? You sent them right off to Mos Espa for refitting and
refurbishment?"
Owen nodded.
Then Etz spoke up, "Who is Luke? Your wife called out to Luke
when I came walking in on her."
The moisture farmer looked flustered for a second, then
recovered with his reply, "Luke was a hired hand that we just lost a week
or so ago. He worked on the vaporators. That's why I needed the droids, to fill
his spot."
Etz was not convinced. "The woman seemed to think he had
forgotten something and had come back for it. Doesn't sound like an ex-farmhand
to me."
The whole situation was beginning to unravel. I looked down at
the restraining bolt in my hand and spoke up to the group as Topolev stepped
closer, "I found this in their tech dome" tossing the bolt to 0600
who looked it over as I continued. “It's been recently removed from a
'droid, and their oil bath was last calibrated for a bi-pedal protocol
model."
Rogue turned to stare Owen in the eyes.
4120 and Topolev looked at each other as the latter spoke up,
"We didn't see any 'droids down there except a worn out old power droid
and a broken Treadwell."
Rogue turned his attention back to Owen, "I'm going to ask
you one last time. Think carefully before you answer. Who is Luke, and
where are your 'droids?"
Owen glanced at Beru as she shook in fear, staring back at him.
He turned thoughtfully back to Rogue, "You've already decided to kill us
haven't you?”
“You can't have any witnesses to what you're searching for, and we're too much of a liability . . . aren't we?" said Owen, eyes darting to each of us.
Beru remained silent. She knew they had to protect Luke, or
everything they had worked for over the years would be for nothing. She suddenly
lunged at the thermal detonator on Topolev's belt, unclipping and activating
it, holding it high in the air over her head. All of our blasters leveled at
the old woman as Felth and 1265 stepped closer, blasters raised. She shook and
trembled, as we backed away from her and the clicking detonator.
Beru and Owen backed away from us toward the domed entrance to
their home. "You can't have Luke, and you won't be killing any of us over
a 'droid. It's . . . it's you who’ll be dying today!", and as she moved to
throw the detonator at us, Fett blasted through her forearm at the wrist.
The detonator, still in the grasp of her severed hand, dropped to the sand at their feet. Owen grabbed his wife as she screamed in pain, turning their backs to the device, as we turned to dive away into the sand. The concussion of the blast knocked us all off our feet. When we stood with ringing ears, and turned to face the grisly sight, there was little left of the moisture farmer and his wife. The detonation had wiped the flesh from their bones. All that remained were two smoking skeletons lying beside the stairs. Whoever Luke was, he was definitely on his own now.
Rogue shot Fett an annoyed glance. The bounty hunter stared back
coldly and unflinching, the barrel of his rifle smoking.
Rogue turned his attention back to us, "Burn it. Burn it
all. I don't want any trace of our presence here left behind" and he
walked away pushing past us as he pulled off his helmet.
Felth and 1265 stood guard as Etz, Topolev, 4120, 0600, and I
disappeared down the stairs to set the charges. A short time later we all made
our way out of the lower levels and headed for the drop ship.
Suddenly, the ground beneath our boots shook violently as the
first of our charges detonated. A large geyser of sand shot skyward over the
farm as more blasts followed below the surface. Smoke billowed from the open
pit, and out of the roof of the tech dome as the living quarters beneath were
consumed in fire. Our job here was finished.
Fett mounted his bike and left in a spray of sand, his poncho
whipping in the dry wind as we boarded the Sentinel.
* * *