Trilogy by George Lucas

grandeur before. Such things shouldn’t even be within the cogitative theory units of one that’s as basic as an Artoo unit, and …”
    â€œYou mean …?” Luke started to gape. “Yes, sir … he’s gone.”
    â€œAnd I removed his restraining coupling myself,” Lukemuttered 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.”
    â€œBegging 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.”
    â€œAll 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.”
    â€œOh, he excels at that, sir.” Threepio confirmed with mock cheerfulness. Luke threw him a sour look, and together they turned and descended into the garage.
    â€œL uke … 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.
    â€œLuke!” he yelled again.
Luke, Luke, Luke
 … the name echoed teasingly back at him from the homestead walls. Turning angrily, he stalked back into the kitchen, where Beru was preparing breakfast.
    â€œHave you seen Luke this morning?” he asked as softly as he could manage.
    She glanced 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.”
    â€œBefore breakfast?” Owen frowned worriedly. “That’s not like him. Did he take the new ’droids with him?”
    â€œI think so. I’m sure I saw at least one of them with him.”
    â€œWell,” Owen mused, uncomfortable but with nothing to really hang imprecations on, “he’d better have those ridge units repaired by midday or there’ll be hell to pay.”
    An unseen face shielded by smooth white metal emerged from the half-buried life pod that now formed the backbone of a dune slightly higher than its neighbors. The voice sounded efficient, but tired.
    â€œNothing,” the inspecting trooper muttered to his