There’s no one around to answer my questions now that Ben’s gone. It’s a stark fact that reasserts itself each time I wonder what I’m supposed to do now. That brown robe he wore might as well have been made of pure mystery; he clothed himself in it and then left nothing else behind on the Death Star. I know Han likes to scoff at the idea of the Force, but when a man’s body simply disappears at the touch of a lightsaber, that’s more than “simple tricks and nonsense.”
And I know the Force is real. I’ve felt it.
I still feel it, actually, but I think it’s like knowing there’s something hidden in the sand while you’re skimming above it. You see ripples on the surface, hints that something is moving down there–maybe something small, maybe something huge–living a completely different life out of your sight. And going after it to see what’s underneath the surface might be safe and rewarding, or it might be the last thing you ever do. I need someone to tell me when to dive into those ripples and when to back off.
I thought I heard Ben’s voice a couple of times during the Battle of Yavin, but I’m wondering now if that really happened. Maybe I only thought it did; maybe that was my subconscious speaking to me–a kind of wishful thinking. He’s been silent since, and I don’t feel I can talk to anyone else about the Force. My confidants at this point consist of one blue-and-white astromech droid.
Han and Chewie are off somewhere trying to earn enough credits to pay off Jabba the Hutt. They lost all their reward money from the Battle of Yavin and they’re back to being broke and desperate–the galaxy should beware.
Leia is cloistered with the leaders of the Alliance in the fleet, which is currently hiding in the Sujimis sector around an ice planet no one has paid any attention to since the Clone Wars. Not that she would want to hear about my worries any more than I would like to speak them. She has much more important things to do than to waste time putting a bandage on my insecurities. Threepio is with her, no doubt feeling underappreciated for his predictions of imminent doom in over six million forms of communication. That leaves Artoo and me free to run an errand for Admiral Ackbar…
—Heir to the Jedi, pages 3-4.
To read my review of Heir to the Jedi, go here.