Kenobi nodded. "I forget sometimes in whose presence I babble. Let us say

simply that the force is something a Jedi must deal with. While it has never been

properly explained, scientists have theorized it is an energy field generated by living

things. Early man suspected its existence, yet remained in ignorance of its potential

for millennia.

"Only certain individuals could recognize the force for what it was. They were

mercilessly labeled: charlatans, fakers, mystics—and worse. Even fewer could make

use of it. As it was usually beyond their primitive controls, it frequently was too

powerful for them. They were misunderstood by their fellow—and worse."

Kenobi made a wide, all encompassing gesture with both arms. "The force

surrounds each and every one of us. Some men believe it directs our actions, and not

the other way around. Knowledge of the force and how to manipulate it was what

gave the Jedi his special power."

The arms came down and Kenobi stared at Luke until the youth began to fidget

uncomfortably. When he spoke again it was in a tone so crisp and unaged that Luke

jumped in spite of himself. "You must learn the ways of the force also, Luke—if

you are to come with me to Alderaan."

"Alderaan!" Luke hopped off the repair seat, looking dazed. "I'm not going to

Alderaan. I don't even know where Alderaan is." Vaporators, 'droids, harvest—

abruptly the surroundings seemed to close in on him, the formerly intriguing

furnishings and alien artifacts now just a mite frightening. He looked around wildly,

trying to avoid the piercing gaze of Ben Kenobi…old Ben…crazy Ben…General Obi-

wan…

"I've got to get back home," he found himself muttering thickly. "It's late.

I'm in for it as it is." Remembering something, he gestured toward the motionless

bulk of Artoo Detoo. "You can keep the 'droid. He seems to want you to. I'll

think of something to tell my uncle—I hope," he added forlornly.

"I need your help, Luke," Kenobi explained, his manner a combination of

sadness and steel. "I'm getting too old for this kind of thing. Can't trust myself to

finish it properly on my own. This mission is far too important." He nodded

toward Artoo Detoo. "You heard and saw the message."

"But…I can't get involved with anything like that," protested Luke. "I've got

work to do; we've got crops to bring in—even though Uncle Owen could always

break down and hire a little extra help. I mean, one, I guess. But there's nothing I

can do about it. Not now. Besides, that's all such a long way from here. The

whole thing is really none of my business."

"That sounds like your uncle talking," Kenobi observed without rancor.

"Oh! My Uncle Owen…How am I going to explain all this to him?"

The old man suppressed a smile, aware that Luke's destiny had already been

determined for him. It had been ordained five minutes before he had learned about

the manner of his father's death. It had been ordered before that when he had heard

the complete message. It had been fixed in the nature of things when he had first

viewed the pleading portrait of the beautiful Senator Organa awkwardly projected by

the little 'droid. Kenobi shrugged inwardly. Likely it had been finalized even

before the boy was born. Not that Ben believed in predestination, but he did believe

in heredity—and in the force.

"Remember, Luke, the suffering of one man is the suffering of all. Distances

are irrelevant to injustice. If not stopped soon enough, evil eventually reaches out to

engulf all men, whether they have opposed it or ignored it."

"I suppose," Luke confessed nervously, "I could take you as far as Anchorhead.

You can get transport from there to Mos Eisley, or wherever it is you want to go."

"Very well," agreed Kenobi. "That will do for a beginning. Then you must do

what you feel is right."

Luke turned away, now thoroughly confused. "Okay. Right now I don't feel

too good…"

The holding hole was deathly dim, with only the bare minimum of illumination

provided. There was barely enough to see the black metal walls and the high ceiling

overhead. The cell was designed to maximize a prisoner's feelings of helplessness,

and this it achieved well. So much so that the single occupant started tensely as a

hum came from one end of the chamber. The metal door which began moving aside

was as thick as her body—as if, she mused bitterly, they were afraid she might break

through anything less massive with her bare hands.

Straining to see outside, the girl saw several imperial guards assume positions

just outside the doorway. Eyeing them defiantly, Leia Organa backed up against the

far wall.

Her determined expression collapsed as soon as a monstrous black form entered

the room, gliding smoothly as if on treads. Vader's presence crushed her spirit as

thoroughly as an elephant would crush an eggshell. That villain was followed by an

antiqued whip of a man who was only slightly less terrifying, despite his miniscule

appearance alongside the Dark Lord.

Darth Vader made a gesture to someone outside. Something that hummed like a

huge bee moved close and slipped inside the doorway. Leia choked on her own

breath at the sight of the dark metal globe. It hung suspended on independent

repulsors, a farrago of metal arms protruding from its sides. The arms were tipped

with a multitude of delicate instruments.

Leia studied the contraption fearfully. She had heard rumors of such machines,

but had never really believed that Imperial technicians would construct such a

monstrosity. Incorporated into its soulless memory was every barbarity, every

substantiated outrage known to mankind—and to several alien races as well.

Vader and Tarkin stood there quietly, giving her plenty of time to study the

hovering nightmare. The Governor in particular did not delude himself into thinking

that the mere presence of the device would shock her into giving up the information

he needed. Not, he reflected, that the ensuing session would be especially

unpleasant. There was always enlightenment and knowledge to be gained from such

encounters, and the Senator promised to be a most interesting subject.

After a suitable interval had passed, he motioned to the machine. "Now,

Senator Organa, Princess Organa, we will discuss the location of the principal rebel

base."

The machine moved slowly toward her, traveling on a rising hum. Its

indifferent spherical form blocked out Vader, the Governor, the rest of the cell…the

light…

Muffled sounds penetrated the cell walls and thick door, drifting out into the

hallway beyond. They barely intruded on the peace and quiet of the walkway

running past the sealed chamber. Even so, the guards stationed immediately outside

managed to find excuses to edge a sufficient distance away to where those oddly

modulated sounds could no longer be heard at all.

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