Trilogy by George Lucas Page A

finished.”
    â€œNo, you’re not,” Luke shot back, unaccountably affected by this recently encountered machine. But then, Threepio was not the usual uncommunicative, agri-functional device Luke was accustomed to dealing with. “What kind of talk is that?”
    â€œLogical,” Threepio informed him.
    Luke shook his head angrily. “Defeatist.”
    With Luke and Ben Kenobi’s aid, the battered ’droid somehow managed to struggle erect. Little Artoo watched from the pit’s rim.
    Hesitating part way up the slope, Kenobi sniffed the air suspiciously. “Quickly, son. They’re on the move again.”
    Trying to watch the surrounding rocks and his footsteps simultaneously, Luke fought to drag Threepio clear of the pit.
    The decor of Ben Kenobi’s well-concealed cave was Spartan without appearing uncomfortable. It would not have suited most people, reflecting as it did its owner’s peculiarly eclectic tastes. The living area radiated an aura of lean comfort with more importance attached to mental comforts than those of the awkward human body.
    They had succeeded in vacating the canyon before the Tusken Raiders could return in force. Under Kenobi’s direction, Luke left a trail behind them so confusing that not even a hypernasal jawa could have followed it.
    Luke spent several hours ignoring the temptations ofKenobi’s cave. Instead he remained in the corner which was equipped as a compact yet complete repair shop, working to fix Threepio’s severed arm.
    Fortunately, the automatic overload disconnects had given way under the severe strain, sealing electronic nerves and ganglia without real damage. Repair was merely a matter of reattaching the limb to the shoulder, then activating the self-reseals. Had the arm been broken in mid-“bone” instead of at a joint, such repairs would have been impossible save at a factory shop.
    While Luke was thus occupied, Kenobi’s attention was concentrated on Artoo Detoo. The squat ’droid sat passively on the cool cavern floor while the old man fiddled with its metal insides. Finally the man sat back with a “Humph!” of satisfaction and closed the open panels in the robot’s rounded head. “Now let’s see if we can figure out what you are, my little friend, and where you came from.”
    Luke was almost finished anyway, and Kenobi’s words were sufficient to pull him away from the repair area. “I saw part of the message,” he began, “and I …”
    Once more the striking portrait was being projected into empty space from the front of the little robot. Luke broke off, enraptured by its enigmatic beauty once again.
    â€œYes, I think that’s got it,” Kenobi murmured contemplatively.
    The image continued to flicker, indicating a tape hastily prepared. But it was much sharper, better defined now, Luke noted with admiration. One thing was apparent: Kenobi was skilled in subjects more specific than desert scavenging.
    â€œGeneral Obi-wan Kenobi,” the mellifluous voice wassaying, “I present myself in the name of the world family of Alderaan and of the Alliance to Restore the Republic. I break your solitude at the bidding of my father, Bail Organa, Viceroy and First Chairman of the Alderaan system.”
    Kenobi absorbed this extraordinary declamation while Luke’s eyes bugged big enough to fall from his face.
    â€œYears ago, General,” the voice continued, “you served the Old Republic in the Clone Wars. Now my father begs you to aid us again in our most desperate hour. He would have you join him on Alderaan. You
must
go to him.
    â€œI regret that I am unable to present my father’s request to you in person. My mission to meet personally with you has failed. Hence I have been forced to resort to this secondary method of communication.
    â€œInformation vital to the survival of the Alliance has been secured in the mind of this Detoo