Star Wars_ Rebel Force 01_ Target - Alex Wheeler [3]
R2-D2 released a trill of beeps and whistles.
Luke sighed. He'd spent enough time around the droid to guess what he was trying to say. "I know, I know. In a real fight, the enemy wouldn't wait for me to be ready." Not to mention that in a real fight, the enemy would be shooting a blaster, rather than sting bursts—and Luke would be dead.
Now that Luke could see again, he spotted his lightsaber lying in a puddle of mud. He stretched out an arm for it, but the weapon was just beyond his reach.
Bring me the lightsaber, he commanded the Force, searching inside himself for the power to move objects with his mind. Lightsaber. But the lightsaber stayed where it was.
And Luke stayed where he was. Trapped.
"Come on, Artoo," he finally said. "Help me out here."
R2-D2 beeped again, but didn't move.
Luke sighed. The astromech droid may be his most loyal companion, but he was a little sensitive. "Okay, I'm sorry. I'm sorry I said you weren't playing fair," he apologized.
"You were just doing what I told you to do. You did a good job."
The droid beeped happily and rolled toward Luke, nudging the lightsaber into his outstretched hand. Soon Luke had sliced away enough of the heavy bough to climb out from under it. He stood up and dusted himself off.
All around him, the lush green jungle rustled and chirped, alive with the calls of woolamanders and whisper birds, gackle bats, klikniks, and the many other species native to Yavin 4. Luke couldn't help feeling like they were all laughing at him.
Better them than Han, he thought, switching off his lightsaber and sliding it back into the holster hanging at his waist. They'd been at the Rebel Base for almost two weeks now—which meant two weeks of fruitless lightsaber practice. And two weeks of being laughed at by Han Solo, who was convinced the lightsaber wasn't good for anything but slicing sweesonberry bread.
Luke knew Han meant well—and that he was probably right about the lightsaber, at least when Luke was the one wielding it. Still, Luke had decided it might be better to practice in the jungle, with no one to watch him but R2-D2 and the towering Massassi trees. He'd need a lot more practice if he was ever going to be a Jedi Master like Ben Kenobi.
Obi-Wan Kenobi, Luke corrected himself. It was still hard to believe that the strange old hermit was actually the last of the great Jedi Knights—and a friend to Luke's father.
I will find a way to follow in my father's footsteps, Luke promised himself, resting a hand on his lightsaber. It's my destiny.
But at times like this, that seemed impossible. He felt he would never learn to wield his lightsaber with Ben's grace and skill. And even that wasn't enough for Ben… not in the end.
Luke shook his head, trying to clear it of the images. Ben's lightsaber slashing through the air, sizzling with energy as it clashed against the red beam of Darth Vader's weapon.
Ben struggling to match Vader blow for blow—struggling and failing. Ben raising his arms in surrender, meeting Luke's eyes one last time…Vader's lightsaber slicing through Ben like he was as insubstantial as air…Ben's robes falling to the ground, his body vanished…Ben gone.
And Luke alone. Again.
He couldn't stop to think about all he'd lost, or he might never get started again.
His comlink beeped, driving away the dark thoughts.
"Where are you, kid?" Han's familiar voice asked. "Leia's been looking everywhere for you."
Luke grinned, glad there was no one but R2-D2 and a few mucous salamanders around to see how pleased he was to hear that. Ever since he had rescued Leia Organa—
okay, since he and Han had rescued her—from the Death Star, Luke had felt a special connection to the Alderaan princess. Unfortunately, Han seemed to feel one, too.
"Then why didn't she call me?" Luke asked.
"Guess Her Highness has better