Star Wars Journal - The Fight for Justice by Luke Skywalker by John Peel Page B

a decision—even the same one Biggs has made. He definitely believes he’s doing the right thing. And knowing Biggs, he probably is.
    I guess Biggs worries about me as much as I worry about him. He tried to talk me into leaving the farm. He said I needed to think about what’s important in life. Get my priorities straight. He knows why I’ve worked so hard at becoming the hottest, fastest, most daring pilot in town. But going off and doing what he did… it’s just not that easy.
    Uncle Owen won’t let me leave, and I owe him and Aunt Beru too much just to walk out on them. At first, I thought Uncle Owen didn’t want to let me go because I’m cheap help around the farm. But it’s more than that. He seems afraid . Like he knows that if I had the chance, I’d kick the dust of this planet off my feet and never come back. And he’s afraid of what might happen to me if I do that.
    But can’t he see what will happen to me if I don’t ? This planet will suck all the life out of me. My body would walk around doing chores, but my spirit would be dead. I don’t know how I’ll ever do it, but someday, I have to get out of here—out among the stars. There are so many worlds and wonders to see, so much to discover.
    It’s where I’m meant to be. I know it is.

FOURTH ENTRY
    My day started with a visit from the Jawa traders. Uncle Owen wanted a couple of extra droids to help out on the farm, and the Jawas are pretty good at scavenging used droids. Of course, you have to know what you’re doing when you buy from them. They’ll assure you that everything’s first-class merchandise, then sell you a piece of scrap that keeps going just long enough for them to get out of the area.
    But Uncle Owen’s pretty good at spotting those kinds of deals. He can bargain the Jawas down without any problem. And, while I’m by no means a master mechanic, I can usually tell quality merchandise when I see it.
    The Jawa sandcrawler stopped by, as they do from time to time. Those things are huge, slow, and noisy, so you have plenty of warning before they arrive. The Jawas live and work in them, so they’re kind of like a small town on wheels. The smell inside the sandcrawler gets pretty bad, since Jawas aren’t the cleanest of creatures. That’s why they always line up whatever droids they’ve got to sell in the open air.
    Uncle Owen looked the lineup over and picked out a protocol droid and a handy little R2-5 unit. But the R2-5 blew its motivator, so Uncle Owen went for a different R2 unit instead. The interpreter—his name is See-Threepio—and Artoo-Deetoo know each other, that’s apparent. They spend a lot of time bickering and blaming one another for everything, but they both seem like good little units.
    Only I think Artoo must have a few loose bolts. He claims he belongs to an Obi-Wan Kenobi.
    Kenobi’s a fine name, but there’s nobody around here named Obi-Wan. The only Kenobi I’ve ever heard of is an old guy named Ben. He’s kind of… eccentric. He’s lived on his own in the Dune Sea for as long as I can remember. I’ve only met him once, about five seasons back.
    Windy and I had been out in Beggar’s Canyon. We were lost, and it got a bit hairy for a while, but Ben Kenobi arrived to help us. It was kind of odd that he just showed up out of the blue like that. But we were just happy he could guide us back to the farm.
    The odd thing is, Uncle Owen really hates the old guy for some reason. He lit into Ben, accusing him of all kinds of stuff, instead of thanking him for helping us get home. Then he told Ben to get out and never come back.
    Before Ben left, he gave me an odd kind of look, like he was committing me to memory for some future date.
    Then Uncle Owen wanted to know everything Ben had said. I really didn’t remember much, and most of what I could recall didn’t make much sense. Ben seemed a bit like a fanatic. Harmless, but really into his beliefs. Uncle Owen told me that Ben’s a little crazy from living