Star Wars Journal - The Fight for Justice by Luke Skywalker Read Online Free Page B

asked Threepio and Artoo to start gathering fuel and bodies for a pyre. He didn’t want to leave the poor Jawas to be eaten by womp rats. I could sympathize with that; I’ve seen what womp rats do to carcasses and it isn’t something I’d wish on any creature—even if they were dead.
    As we started work, my mind was churning. Why had Imperials attacked the Jawas? Oh, Jawas are nuisances, and sometimes steal things, but nobody really minds them. Sometimes the authorities will clamp down a bit and throw a couple into jail. But to burn them out like this? It didn’t make sense.
    And then, all of a sudden, it started to.
    These were the same Jawas who had captured the droids. And Artoo had plans inside him for something that would help the Rebellion. The stormtroopers must know that, and be looking for the two droids. They’d tracked them to the Jawas, and the Jawas didn’t have them…
    They’d be after whoever they thought had the droids now…
    With a cry, I ran for the landspeeder. Nothing else mattered right then except to get home and warn my aunt and uncle.
    It was a foolish thing to do, I know. Now I can see how dumb I was. Shooting right back to the farm while Imperials might be raiding it! And all I was armed with was my blaster and a lightsaber I didn’t even know how to use!
    But that didn’t matter. What did matter was that the Imperials were going to be going after my aunt and uncle next. Some of the Jawas looked as if they’d survived the attack for a while. They had burn marks on their feet—a tell-tale sign they’d been made to talk.
    I saw the smoke a long time before I saw the burning house. But it didn’t take me long to find what was left of Uncle Owen and Aunt Beru.
    I’m going to have to take another break. I can’t talk about it right now. My aunt and uncle were the only family I had. And the Imperials murdered them both.

SEVENTH ENTRY
    I’m feeling a little better now. But only a little.
    It’s really hard, still, to accept the fact that my aunt and uncle are dead.
    The stormtroopers killed them and burned the house down to the ground. They made it look like Tusken Raiders again, but it was an even flimsier cover job this time. It just isn’t like Sand People to attack a homestead. They don’t like enclosed spaces so they stay away from small buildings. Nobody except a stupid stormtrooper would think they’d do such a thing.
    It’s hard not to feel like I failed them when they most needed me. If I’d been there, maybe I could have done something.
    Of course, I might have been killed, too.
    Ben says my survival is an example of the Force at work. He says the fact that I was not killed was not accidental. But rather, a miracle of the Force. That somehow, some cosmic Force was able to guide me out of harm’s way. He says I’m very strong in the Force, but untrained.
    He’s started me on some exercises, ones he used to do with his students. It’s hard to get the hang of it, but every now and then I really feel like I’m starting to understand the Force—and Obi-Wan Kenobi.

    I’ve been thinking a lot about my aunt and uncle.
    Maybe I’d had my disagreements with Uncle Owen, but I never doubted that he and Aunt Beru loved me. They’d always treated me like I was their own son. I remember one time—I must have been about six or seven—one of my friends teased me about not having a real father and mother. And Uncle Owen had said, proudly: “He does have a real father and mother. Nobody could love their boy more.” And that made me feel pretty good.
    They were always like that. I remember Aunt Beru taking care of me when I had the dust fever. She stayed with me for days, cooling me down, feeding me even when I didn’t want to eat. It was like she was willing the fever to go down.
    And now they would never do anything for me again. But I could do one last thing for them.
    My purpose became clear: Darth Vader was an Imperial, a servant of the Emperor, and the murderer of my