Trilogy by George Lucas Page B

mental sigh of relief that hostilities had been avoided. While the jawa bowed and whined with impatient greed, Owen paid him off.
    Meanwhile, Luke had led the two robots toward an opening in the dry ground. A few seconds later they were striding down a ramp kept clear of drifting sand by electrostatic repellers.
    â€œDon’t you ever forget this,” Threepio muttered to Artoo, leaning over the smaller machine. “Why I stick my neck out for you, when all you ever bring me is trouble, is beyond my capacity to comprehend.”
    The passage widened into the garage proper, which was cluttered with tools and sections of farming machinery.Many looked heavily used, some to the point of collapse. But the lights were comforting to both ’droids, and there was a hominess to the chamber which hinted at a tranquillity not experienced by either machine for a long time. Near the center of the garage was a large tub, and the aroma drifting from it made Threepio’s principal olfactory sensors twitch.
    Luke grinned, noting the robot’s reaction. “Yes, it’s a lubrication bath.” He eyed the tall bronze robot appraisingly. “And from the looks of it, you could use about a week’s submergence. But we can’t afford that so you’ll have to settle for an afternoon.” Then Luke turned his attention to Artoo Detoo, walking up to him and flipping open a panel that shielded numerous gauges.
    â€œAs for you,” he continued, with a whistle of surprise, “I don’t know how you’ve kept running. Not surprising, knowing the jawas’ reluctance to part with any erg-fraction they don’t have to. It’s recharge time for you.” He gestured toward a large power unit.
    Artoo Detoo followed Luke’s gesture, then beeped once and waddled over to the boxy construction. Finding the proper cord, he automatically flipped open a panel and plugged the triple prongs into his face.
    Threepio had walked over to the large cistern, which was filled almost full with aromatic cleansing oil. With a remarkably humanlike sigh he lowered himself slowly into the tank.
    â€œYou two behave yourselves,” Luke cautioned them as he moved to a small two-man skyhopper. A powerful little suborbital spacecraft, it rested in the hangar section of the garage-workshop. “I’ve got work of my own to do.”
    Unfortunately, Luke’s energies were still focused on his farewell encounter with Biggs, so that hours later he hadfinished few of his chores. Thinking about his friend’s departure, Luke was running a caressing hand over the damaged port fin of the ‘hopper—the fin he had damaged while running down an imaginary Tie fighter in the wrenching twists and turns of a narrow canyon. That was when the projecting ledge had clipped him as effectively as an energy beam.
    Abruptly something came to a boil within him. With atypical violence he threw a power wrench across a work-table nearby. “It just isn’t fair!” he declared to no one in particular. His voice dropped disconsolately. “Biggs is right. I’ll never get out of here. He’s planning rebellion against the Empire, and I’m trapped on a blight of a farm.”
    â€œI beg your pardon, sir.”
    Luke spun, startled, but it was only the tall ’droid, Threepio. The contrast in the robot was striking compared with Luke’s initial sight of him. Bronze-colored alloy gleamed in the overhead lights of the garage, cleaned of pits and dust by the powerful oils.
    â€œIs there anything I might do to help?” the robot asked solicitously.
    Luke studied the machine, and as he did so some of his anger drained away. There was no point in yelling cryptically at a robot.
    â€œI doubt it,” he replied, “unless you can alter time and speed up the harvest. Or else teleport me off this sandpile under Uncle Owen’s nose.”
    Sarcasm was difficult for even an extremely