Read Online Trilogy by George Lucas - Free Book Online Page A

instrument.
    â€œWell, my little friend,” he murmured, “you’ve got something jammed in here real good.” As he pushed and pried Luke directed half his attention to Threepio. “Were you on a star freighter or was it—”
    Metal gave way with a powerful
crack
, and the recoil sent Luke tumbling head over heels. Getting to his feet, he started to curse—then froze, motionless.
    The front of the Artoo unit had begun to glow, exuding a three-dimensional image less than one-third of a meter square but precisely defined. The portrait formed within the box was so exquisite that in a couple of minutes Luke discovered he was out of breath—because he had forgotten to breathe.
    Despite a superficial sharpness, the image flickered and jiggled unsteadily, as if the recording had been made and installed with haste. Luke stared at the foreign colors being projected into the prosaic atmosphere of the garage and started to form a question. But it was never finished. The lips on the figure moved, and the girl spoke—or rather, seemed to speak. Luke knew the aural accompaniment was generated somewhere within Artoo Detoo’s squat torso.
    â€œObi-wan Kenobi,” the voice implored huskily, “help me! You’re my only remaining hope.” A burst of static dissolved the face momentarily. Then it coalesced again, and once more the voice repeated, “Obi-wan Kenobi, you’re my only remaining hope.”
    With a raspy hum the hologram continued. Luke sat perfectly still for a long moment, considering what he was seeing, then he blinked and directed his words to the Artoo unit.
    â€œWhat’s this all about, Artoo Detoo?”
    The stubby ’droid shifted slightly, the cubish portrait shifting with him, and beeped what sounded vaguely like a sheepish reply.
    Threepio appeared as mystified as Luke. “What is that?” he inquired sharply, gesturing at the speaking portrait and then at Luke. “You were asked a question. What and who is that, and how are you originating it—and why?”
    The Artoo unit generated a beep of surprise, for all the world as if just noticing the hologram. This was followed by a whistling stream of information.
    Threepio digested the data, tried to frown, couldn’t and strove to convey his own confusion via the tone of his voice. “He insists it’s nothing, sir. Merely a malfunction—old data. A tape that should have been erased but was missed. He insists we pay it no mind.”
    That was like telling Luke to ignore a cache of Durindfires he might stumble over in the desert. “Who is she?” he demanded, staring enraptured at the hologram. “She’s beautiful.”
    â€œI really don’t know who she is,” Threepio confessed honestly. “I think she might have been a passenger on our last voyage. From what I recall, she was a personage of some importance. This might have something to do with the fact that our Captain was attaché to—”
    Luke cut him off, savoring the way sensuous lips formed and reformed the sentence fragment. “Is there any more to this recording? It sounds like it’s incomplete.” Getting to his feet, Luke reached out for the Artoo unit.
    The robot moved backward and produced whistles of such frantic concern that Luke hesitated and held off reaching for the internal controls.
    Threepio was shocked. “Behave yourself, Artoo,” he finally chastised his companion. “You’re going to get us into trouble.” He had visions of the both of them being packed up as uncooperative and shipped back to the jawas, which was enough to make him imitate a shudder.
    â€œIt’s all right—he’s our master now.” Threepio indicated Luke. “You can trust him. I feel that he has our best interests in mind.”
    Detoo appeared to hesitate, uncertain. Then he whistled and beeped a long complexity at his friend.
    â€œWell?” Luke