For the first time all evening Owen Lars looked thoughtful as well as concerned

as he gazed down the passage Luke had taken. "That's what I'm afraid of," he

whispered.

Luke had gone topside. He stood on the sand watching the double sunset as

first one and then the other of Tatooine's twin suns sank slowly behind the distant

range of dunes. In the fading light the sands turned gold, russet, and flaming red-

orange before advancing night put the bright colors to sleep for another day. Soon,

for the first time, those sands would blossom with food plants. This former

wasteland would see and eruption of green.

The thought ought to have sent a thrill of anticipation through Luke. He should

have been as flushed with excitement as his uncle was whenever he described the

coming harvest. Instead, Luke felt nothing but a vast indifferent emptiness. Not

even the prospect of having a lot of money for the first time in his life excited him.

What was there to do with money in Anchorhead-anywhere on Tatooine, for that

matter?

Part of him, an increasingly large part, was growing more and more restless at

remaining unfulfilled. This was not an uncommon feeling in youths his age, but for

reasons Luke did not understand it was much stronger in him than in any of his

friends.

As the night cold came creeping over the sand and up his legs, he brushed the

grit from his trousers and descended into the garage. Maybe working on the 'droids

would bury some of the remorse a little deeper in his mind. A quick survey of the

chamber showed no movement. Neither of the new machines was in sight.

Frowning slightly, Luke took a small control box from his belt and activated a couple

of switches set into the plastic.

A low him came from the box. The caller produced the taller of the two robots,

Threepio. In fact, he gave a yell of surprise as he jumped up behind the skyhopper.

Luke started toward him, openly puzzled. "What are you hiding back there

for?"

The robot came stumbling around the prow of the craft, he attitude one of

desperation. It occurred to Luke then that despite his activating the caller, the Artoo

unit was still nowhere to be seen.

The reason for his absence-or something related to it-came pouring unbidden

from Threepio. "It wasn't my fault," the robot begged frantically. "Please don't

deactivate me! I told him not to go, but he's faulty. He must be malfunctioning.

Something has totally boiled his logic circuits. He kept babbling on about some sort

of mission, sir. I never heard a robot with delusions of grandeur before. Such

things shouldn't even be within the cogitative theory units of one that's as basic as an

Artoo unit, and..."

"You mean...?" Luke started to gape.

"Yes, sir...he's gone."

"And I removed his restraining coupling myself," Luke muttered slowly.

Already he could visualize his uncle's face. The last of their savings tied up in

these 'droids, he had said.

Racing out of the garage, Luke hunted for non-existent reasons why the Artoo

unit should go berserk. Threepio followed on his heels.

From a small ridge which formed the highest point close by the homestead, Luke

had a panoramic view of the surrounding desert. Bringing out the precious

macrobinoculars, he scanned the rapidly darkening horizons for something small,

metallic, three-legged, and out of its mechanical mind.

Threepio fought his way up through the sand to stand beside Luke. "That Artoo

unit has always caused nothing but trouble," he groaned. "Astromech 'droids are

becoming too iconoclastic even for me to understand, sometimes."

The binoculars finally came down, and Luke commented matter-of-factly, "Well,

he's nowhere in sight." He kicked furiously at the ground. "Damn it-how could I

have been so stupid, letting it trick me into removing that restrainer! Uncle Owen's

going to kill me."

"Begging your pardon, sir," ventured a hopeful Threepio, visions of jawas

dancing in his head, "but can't we go after him?"

Luke turned. Studiously he examined the wall of black advancing toward them

"Not at night. It's too dangerous with all the raiders around. I'm not too concerned

about the jawas, but sandpeople...no, not in the dark. We'll have to wait until

morning to try to track him"

A shout rose from the homestead below. "Luke-Luke, are you finished with

those 'droids yet? I'm turning down the power for the night."

"All right!" Luke responded, sidestepping the question. "I'll be down in a few

minutes, Uncle Owen!" Turning, he took one last look at the vanished horizon.

"Boy, am I in for it!" he muttered. "That little 'droid's going to get me in a lot of

trouble."

"Oh, he excells at that, sir." Threepio confirmed with mock cheerfulness. Luke

threw him a sour look, and together they turned and descended into the garage.

"Luke...Luke!" Still rubbing the morning sleep from his eyes, Owen glanced

from side to side, loosening his neck muscles. "Where could that boy be loafing

now?" he wondered aloud at the lack of response. There was no sign of movement

in the homestead, and he had already checked above.

"Luke!" he yelled again. Luke, luke, luke...the name echoed teasing back at

him from the homestead walls. Turning angrily, he stalked back into the kitchen,

where Beru was preparing breakfast.

"Have you seen Luke this morning?" he asked as softly as he could manage.

She glance briefly at him, then returned to her cooking. "Yes. He said he had

some things to do before he started out to the south ridge this morning, so he left

early."
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