“You weren’t ready,” Qui-Gon said. “You’re still not ready.”
“Not ready?” Ben echoed. He swallowed hard before he continued, “Master, if you mean that I’m not ready to understand what happened here, then I believe you’re mistaken. Anakin killed an entire tribe of Tuskens out of vengeance, and then kept it a secret from everyone. Apparently, you were aware of this, and yet you still maintain he is the Chosen One. What more is there to know?”
Qui-Gon answered, “That Anakin did not keep it a secret from everyone.”
Ben sighed. “Of course. He would have told Padmé. And Palpatine. And I suspect that if he didn’t actually tell Owen Lars, then Owen figured it out for himself. If Owen has the impression that Jedi are prone to murder in the name of revenge, that would certainly explain why he’s so cautious of me.” Ben returned his gaze to the leather strips.
“And why did Anakin keep his secret from you?”
Ben was about to reply, Because he was afraid he’d be banished from the Jedi, but instead he shook his head and said, “It doesn’t matter whom Anakin told. What matters is that he was a Jedi, and that he became a butcher.”
“You should not judge when you fail to understand.”
Exasperated, Ben demanded, “Understand what, Master?”
“As I said, you’re still not ready.”
Ben sighed. “Well, when I am ready, I hope you’ll let me know.” He turned and began walking back to the waiting bantha.
“For now, Obi-Wan, know this,” Qui-Gon said gravely, his voice sounding as if it were traveling alongside Ben. “Anakin revealed his secret to one other.”
“Master, please,” Ben said without breaking his stride. “If this is another guessing game, I don’t think I—”
“A’Sharad Hett.”
Ben stopped in his tracks. Since his arrival on Tatooine, he had thought of the Tusken Jedi on various occasions. He had assumed that Hett was among the many casualties of the Jedi purge. He said, “I don’t believe you ever met A’Sharad Hett, Master.”
“No,” Qui-Gon replied, “I never did. But I did know his father. The Force was strong in the Hett family.”
Glancing back at the ruins, Ben said, “The Tuskens that Anakin killed…were they Hett’s tribe? Are you telling me that A’Sharad Hett is alive, that he’s involved with the recent killings on Tatooine?”
“I cannot say,” Qui-Gon answered vaguely.
Just then, a hot wind gusted across the ruins and swept over Ben. He was about to ask whether Qui-Gon was unable or unwilling to reveal certain details, but then his Master said, “May the Force be with you, Obi-Wan.”
A moment after Qui-Gon’s words trailed off with the wind, Ben turned away once again from the ruins. He climbed onto the bantha’s back and rode off.
Ben rode the bantha all night. When he arrived at the outer perimeter of the Lars homestead, he released the bantha and continued on foot. As he walked past one of Owen’s moisture vaporator towers, he saw a KPR droid peek out from behind the vaporator.
Ben ignored the droid. Let Owen know I’m coming, he thought. He suspected that Owen would rather see him than the Tuskens, at least.
He stopped half a kilometer from the domed entry to the Lars family’s subterranean home, and pitched a low, sand-colored tent. He kept his cloaked body close to the ground, watching the horizon and listening for any rising dust or movement that might indicate incoming Tuskens.
Two days and nights passed. On the third morning, Ben finally saw someone approach. It was Owen Lars, walking straight toward him from the entry dome.
As usual, he was carrying a blaster rifle.
Rising up from the sand, Ben bowed his head and said, “Good afternoon, Mr. Lars.”
Owen’s rested the blaster rifle against his leg, the barrel pointed toward the ground. “I guess you heard about the recent attacks?”
Obi-Wan was slightly taken aback—he had expected Owen to immediately reprimand him for trespassing. Gesturing to his tent, Ben said, “That’s why I’m here. Forgive me, Owen, I know you don’t want me on your land. I tried to be discreet.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve been keeping watch, too. And just so you know, I saw you arrive three days ago.”
Ben was pleased that Owen had been monitoring the KPR droids, but he had the feeling that Owen wasn’t in any mood to hear him say so. He noticed that Owen’s eyes were somewhat bleary, probably from lack of sleep. Ben stayed quiet, waiting for Owen to continue.
Owen glanced back to his own home, then returned his gaze to Ben. “Normally, I’d tell you to get lost. But I just got word from a friend in Bestine. The Sand People attacked another farm.” Owen looked away again. “Only one survivor,” he continued. “A little girl. But she didn’t last long.”
Ben sighed. “I’m sorry, Owen.”
“I’m not finished!” Owen roared, his eyes now blazing at Ben. The edge of Owen’s upper lip quivered nervously.
He’s not just angry, Ben realized. He’s terrified.
Owen licked his lips before he continued. “The little girl…she said she saw one of the Sand People, maybe their chief. She said he…he used two ‘laser swords.’”
Over the past three days since Ben’s last exchange with Qui-Gon Jinn’s spirit, Ben had had plenty of time to consider the possibility that A’Sharad Hett was involved in the recent killings. Still, hearing Owen’s description of the marauder’s leader made him feel suddenly queasy.
Oblivious to Ben’s discomfort, Owen said through clenched teeth, “I don’t suppose you’ve heard about any missing lightsabers on the planet, Mr. Jedi?”
“Get hold of yourself, Owen,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “You know I had nothing to do with the attacks.”
“Maybe not!” Owen said bitterly. “But I have some idea of what Jedi are capable of!”
“You’re talking about Anakin,” Ben said, “About what he did after he learned that his mother had been taken by Tuskens.” It wasn’t a question.
Owen winced, and then he scowled at the ground. “Shmi Skywalker was a good woman,” he said. “We tried to rescue her, but my father…” The words caught in his throat, and he left the sentence unfinished. Tilting his chin in the direction of the entry dome, he continued, “When Anakin brought Shmi’s body home, I’ll never forget the look on his face. If killing me would have brought his mother back to life, I know he would have killed me then and there. I could see it in his eyes.”
Ben grimaced. “Anakin never told me what really happened, Owen. Please trust that what he did that day was not the way of the Jedi.”
“Well, I’m not so sure if that’s a relief,” Owen said. “Much as I didn’t like the way he looked at me, I like the idea of Tuskens with lightsabers even less. There’s not a person on Tatooine who wouldn’t be happy if all the Tuskens were dead.”
Ben offered no response. He knew that the deaths of Tuskens would not bring him any happiness, but he didn’t believe there was any reason in explaining this to Owen.
Owen returned his gaze to Ben and said, “Look, I didn’t mean anything bad against Jedi. I just figured you should know about this Sand Person out there, because maybe you’re the only one who can stop him.”
Owen looked away again. Ben thought, He doesn’t want to ask for my help. He’s just too proud and stubborn. “If it’s all right with you,” Ben said, “I’d like to stay close to your farm for a while. Just in case.”
“Fine,” Owen said flatly. He gestured to the nearest moisture vaporator and said, “If you need some water, help yourself.” Then he turned and walked back to the domed entry to his home.
The Tusken Raiders arrived the next morning, at the strike of dawn. Instead of approaching from the east, which would have made them more difficult to see against the blinding, rising suns, they rode their banthas in from the west. Ben would have noticed them had they come from any direction across the desert, but he did briefly wonder why they chose their approach as they had. Then he dismissed the thought. T
here’s just no predicting Tuskens.
Ben had moved closer to the moisture farm during the night. As the bantha-mounted Tuskens drew closer, they saw his cloaked form silhouetted against the sunrise. A breeze blew out from across the desert, and Ben’s robes flapped against his body, revealing his lightsaber at his belt.
Most of the Tuskens were carrying gaderffii, long club-like weapons that some colonists referred to as “gaffi sticks.” The Tusken on the lead bantha came to a stop a short distance away. The Tusken brayed in his native, guttural language to address his tribesman, then dismounted his bantha and walked slowly over to Ben. Attached to the Tusken’s belt were two lightsabers. The moment Ben saw the weapons, the Tusken’s identity was confirmed.
It was A’Sharad Hett.
Ben did not know whether Hett was aware that Anakin Skywalker had become Darth Vader. But if Hett knew—as Qui-Gon’s spirit claimed—that Anakin was responsible for killing the Tuskens who tortured his mother, Ben could only imagine what Hett might do if he discovered the existence of Anakin Skywalker’s son. Ben suspected that Hett knew nothing about Luke, if only because Luke was still alive. If Hett’s sole purpose on Tatooine had been to kill Luke, Luke would probably be dead already. Now, as Hett approached, Ben banished all thoughts of Anakin and Luke from his mind.
Hett stopped in front of Ben, standing so close that Ben had to be careful not to inhale too deeply, for the stench of Hett’s filthy robes and wrappings was almost overwhelming. Gazing into the red lenses of the Tusken’s goggles, Ben said, “Master Hett.”
“The Force be with you, Master Kenobi,” replied Hett, his voice remarkably calm. “So, you too survived Order 66. I thought I was alone. What brings you to Tatooine, let alone these trackless wastes?”
“You do, Master Hett,” Ben said without hesitation. Keeping his eyes fixed on Hett’s goggles, he continued, “You lead these Tuskens as their warlord. Not something a Jedi should do.”
“Do not lecture me, Obi-Wan,” Hett replied, still calm and without any hint of threat. “We were both generals in the Clone Wars, ‘warlords’ for a republic that turned on us.” Hett shifted his feet slightly and turned to look past Ben and let his gaze travel across the moisture farm. “The Tuskens have been hunted and killed by both settlers and farmers. Jedi defend those who need help. Sometimes you defend life by taking the life of the aggressor.”
“Past mistakes do not justify current ones,” Ben said, not letting his eyes stray from Hett. “The danger is in becoming what you fight. It was the trap that the Jedi fell into. It is the trap that takes you now. It must stop. You must see that, A’Sharad Hett.”
“I do not,” Hett replied grimly. “I was raised to manhood amongst Tuskens by my father, Sharad Hett, the greatest Jedi of his age. He taught me to think and act as a Tusken.” He remained facing the farm but gestured to the mounted Tuskens, and raised his voice as he said, “These are my people! Will the settlers stop killing Tuskens?”
Ben did not answer. He believed that the Tuskens could kill every settler on Tatooine and their hunger for violence would still be unsatisfied.
Taking Ben’s silence as a negative response, Hett said, “Then blood calls for blood! The settlers will be forced to abandon the land…or be buried beneath it!”
“I cannot permit that,” Ben said as he drew his lightsaber. “You were a great Jedi, Hett, and the son of a great Jedi, but you have given yourself over to revenge. It stops here.” Ben ignited his lightsaber.
“You will have a Jedi funeral, Master Kenobi,” Hett said. “That I promise.”
Hett’s hands dropped to his belt and the two lightsabers practically leapt into his gloved hands. He ignited both weapons at once, unleashing their identical green energy beams. He swung fast with the lightsaber in his right hand but Ben blocked it. The lightsabers sizzled loudly as they clashed.
It was fortunate for Ben that he had continued his Jedi exercises on Tatooine, that he had not allowed his reflexes to become dull. He did not think about how long it had been since he had last used his lightsaber in combat. Nor did consider that he was older than Hett by at least a decade, or Hett’s considerable skills with his own weapons, and that the Tusken was far more experienced at fighting in the desert. Ben knew that any such thoughts would probably only get him killed.
As prepared as Ben was for many things, he was not ready to die. Not yet. Not today.
Hett brought his other lightsaber in at a sharp angle, forcing Ben to lurch back. Ben gripped his own weapon with both hands as he swung at Hett’s legs, but Hett blocked the swipe. There was another loud sizzle as the blades dragged across each other.
Ben gasped as Hett launched a powerful kick to his midriff. The kick knocked Ben off his feet, and as he fell back through the air, Hett hurled one of his lightsabers at Ben’s body. Ben clung tight to his own lightsaber as he twisted his body in midair to avoid being struck by the spinning blade of Hett’s weapon. The moment Hett’s lightsaber whipped past Ben’s head, Hett used the Force to retrieve it, drawing it back to his waiting left hand.
As Hett caught the lightsaber, Ben rolled up from the ground and swung out again. Hett blocked the strike with his right lightsaber, then threw his left arm forward to smash his other lightsaber’s handle into Ben’s jaw.
Ben ignored the painful jolt to his head and reflexively brought his blade up high, forcing Hett to block the blow with his right lightsaber and leaving his own midsection briefly exposed. Before Hett could strike with his other lightsaber, Ben kicked him hard in the stomach.
Hett grunted, but he didn’t go down. He lashed out again at Ben, kicking up sand as he moved in for the kill. Not one of the mounted Tuskens so much as flinched as they watched the duel, nor did they rally for their chief. They merely watched in silence, waiting for the outcome.
Ben blocked each blow, but he wasn’t doing it with ease. Hett was far more experienced at fighting on the sand and in the desert heat. Ben knew that his opponent would never surrender, let alone withdraw. As much as he hoped to avoid killing Hett, he also knew that they couldn’t keep fighting indefinitely.
But in the end, Ben knew he wasn’t fighting for his own life. He was fighting for Luke’s.
Quickly raising his left hand, Ben used the Force to push out at Hett, shoving him back through the air as Ben’s lightsaber swept up and through Hett’s right arm. Hett shouted as his arm fell away from his body. As Hett stumbled back, Ben used the Force to tear Hett’s other lightsaber from his left hand’s grip. Both of Hett’s lightsabers deactivated as they sailed past Ben and landed in the sand behind him.
Hett crumpled to his knees. His tribesmen watched as Ben stepped forward, leaned down to grip the top of Hett’s facemask, and then pulled the mask off his head.
The fallen Jedi cradled the wounded stump of his right arm as he lifted his gaze to meet Ben’s. Hett’s unmasked face was that of a human, but covered with black, angular tattoos.
Ben had no idea whether Hett’s species or tattoos were an exception or the norm for Tuskens. Ben held the mask out before him, and then dropped it onto the sand in front of Hett’s kneeling form.
Without a sound, the mounted Tuskens slowly turned their banthas around and began heading away from the moisture farm. Hett did not watch them depart, but continued staring at the sand in front of him. Ben, still wielding his activated lightsaber, remained standing near Hett, waiting for his next move.
“I am finished,” Hett said, still averting his gaze. “You have disgraced me before my people. With one hand, I can no longer wield a gaderffii. I am now an outcast among the Tuskens.” He said all this without a trace of emotion, and then added, “I am a dead man. Finish it. Kill me.”
“No,” Ben said as he deactivated his lightsaber. “But you can no longer stay on Tatooine. You must leave and give your word, by your father’s honor, to never return.”
Hett’s brow furrowed.
Ben said, “Swear it.”
Hett glowered, refusing to look at Ben, but the
n he finally muttered, “I so swear…”
Clipping his lightsaber to his belt, Ben said, “The Tuskens were once your people, but so were the Jedi. You have forgotten our ways. Perhaps, with meditation, you will remember them and yourself.”
Hett offered no response.
“I hope you will,” Ben said. “May the Force be with you, A’Sharad Hett.” Then Ben turned and began walking toward the entry dome of the moisture farm. He was halfway to the dome when he glanced back to where he’d left the former Jedi, but Hett was already gone.
Owen Lars, still carrying his blaster rifle, was waiting for Ben in the doorway of the entry dome. Ben wondered if Owen had seen any of the vicious fight that had just occurred on his property. He hoped that he hadn’t, and wasn’t sure what to say. He just wanted to assure Owen that the Tuskens were gone. Before he could speak, Owen said, “It’s over now, is it?”
“Yes,” Ben said. The word almost cracked in his throat, and he suddenly realized just how thirsty he was.
“Well, then,” Owen said. “You’d best be going.” Then Owen turned and closed the door behind him.
Ben brushed the dust off his robe. After gathering his camp gear, he began the long walk back home.
He never saw A’Sharad Hett again.
Luke is in danger.
This awareness came suddenly and unexpectedly to Ben Kenobi. He had just stepped outside of his home and was carrying a compact toolkit to run a maintenance check on his moisture vaporator when the sensation hit him, a definite disturbance in the Force.
Ben froze in his tracks, stopping just shy of the vaporator. His grip automatically tightened on the toolkit’s handle. He had been living on Tatooine for thirteen years, and although he had sensed disturbances in the Force before, he had never felt one quite like this.
Did Luke generate it? Ben wasn’t sure. Luke was thirteen now. To the best of Ben’s knowledge, the boy still knew nothing of the Force, but it was possible that Luke was unwittingly acting like a transmitter.
Lives & Adventures Page 9
