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He could feel the permacrete surface beneath him, feel it as though it were a skin, connected to the outpost’s permacrete and durasteel “bones”—its beams, its support columns extending down into the soil and all the way to bedrock. He could feel the kilometers-thick mantle of stone beneath the bedrock, stretching down to the core of the moon, its massiveness suggesting eternity.

He opened himself to the Force and could feel the vibrancy of life around him, the energies of all the people in the outpost, the vitality of all the growing things.

Once, such a contact would have brought him serenity; it would have been peace to his spirit. Now it was merely information.

And the Force still offered him no guidance, no visions of his enemies, no glimpses of his future.

He was no longer disturbed by any of this. He needed no reassurances about his future. Perhaps it all meant that there was no future to glimpse. Luke found himelf to be unworried by the thought.

There was a hum, the distinctive noise of the roof access lift. Luke could feel the Force presence of his son arrive, could hear him approach.

Ben hesitated, then moved into view, settling to the permacrete directly opposite Luke, assuming the same meditative pose.

The boy did not speak, but neither did he relax into proper meditation. Luke could read Ben’s emotions as clearly as though they were on the screen of a datapad: restlessness, concern…and an unusual degree of mental focus.

Luke let the boy wait. Eventually Ben’s restlessness would get the better of him and he would speak his mind. That was the way of the young, of apprentices.

But Ben still did not speak, and Luke could feel him become calmer, more settled…although his focus did not waver. Luke waited while breezes carrying the scents of the Endor forest stirred his hair.

“Your feelings betray you, Ben.” It was almost a ritual phrase now—the truth, cloaked in and perhaps even disguised by cliché.

Ben studied him, no emotion on his face. “Betray me? Do they stab me in the back, or do they just give me a swift kick in the butt?”

Despite himself, Luke grinned. “It’s true, under many circumstances being betrayed by your emotions will do you no harm. But it’s still best to remain aware of the fact that you are expressing them so clearly. Transmitting them for anyone sufficiently sensitive to feel.”

“All right.”

Luke paused. Clearly the boy was not willing to be drawn out. “You think something is wrong. Wrong with me.”

“Wrong is one of those kind of relative things. If I think something is wrong and you think it’s right, which one of us is correct?”

Luke nodded. It was a good response. “I suspect I would be. It’s the whole Master–apprentice, father–son, wise old man–foolish young man thing.”

“Right. It’s nice that to be older is to be always right. I can’t wait to be older.”

“So?”

Ben took a moment to compose himself and his thoughts. “I’m trying to figure out why you don’t have any energy.”

“I have energy. It’s waiting, in reserve.”

“Yeah…maybe. Except your energy used to empower other people, too. Get them moving. Make them enthusiastic. Not anymore. Ever since Mom was killed, you’ve been like someone with a landspeeder resting on his back. Crushed flat, hardly able to move because of the pain. I mean, me too. But for me, over time, that landspeeder has slipped off, mostly. I kind of expected that when we learned that the one who’d killed her was captured or dead, the landspeeder would be gone from your back, too. That you’d be able to move again.”

Luke frowned, puzzled. “I can move.”

“I’m not so sure. And I’m trying to figure out why.”

“Let’s do some lightsaber training. You’ll see more of me moving than you want to.”

Ben shook his head. “You’re still not you. People are asking questions. Things like, When is Luke Skywalker going to find his center and make things better again? Nobody knows what to tell them.”

“Make things better?” Luke tried not to let his surprise show, but it crept into his voice. “You mean snap my fingers, end this war, and cause flower