The first thing Owen Lars noticed about Earth was the water.
Not the oceans, although the sight of so much water stretching beyond the horizon had left him speechless. Not the rivers winding through the countryside, nor the lakes that seemed to appear between every collection of hills.
It was the fact that nobody appeared particularly concerned about where their next drink would come from.
On Tatooine, water was a livelihood. A commodity. Something measured, collected, stored and guarded. Entire families depended upon the performance of ageing moisture vaporators, and a malfunction during the wrong season could mean financial ruin.
Here, water fell from the sky.
And apparently, the people of Earth had become so accustomed to that extraordinary luxury that they used it to decorate their gardens.
Owen found the entire concept mildly offensive.
"You're staring again," Beru observed.
Owen glanced at her. "I'm trying to understand it."
"The countryside?"
"The irrigation."
Beru followed his gaze towards the fields below their transport. Long stretches of cultivated land formed an intricate patchwork of green and gold. Water channels ran between them, while small agricultural machines moved along the crops with remarkable precision.
"Of course you are," she said affectionately.
Across the cabin, Anakin pressed his face against the viewport.
"Master, what's that?"
Martus Kael Vorran leaned forward.
"Which one?"
"The big round things."
"Greenhouse domes."
"They're enormous!"
"Some of them are. Controlled environments. Temperature, humidity, soil conditions, atmospheric composition. Everything can be adjusted depending on what you're growing."
Anakin considered that.
"Could you grow something from Tatooine inside one?"
"Certainly."
"Even a hubba gourd?"
"Anakin, we could probably grow a hubba gourd the size of your head."
The boy's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Unfortunately."
Shmi laughed.
Cliegg Lars, seated beside his wife, shook his head with a smile.
"I've spent half my life trying to keep crops alive in a desert. You people grow them inside giant glass bubbles."
"Transparent composite," Martus corrected.
Cliegg looked at him.
Martus smiled.
"Sorry. Occupational habit."
Their transport banked gently, revealing a sprawling estate nestled between wooded hills.
A magnificent farmhouse stood at its centre, built from pale stone, timber and broad panels of glass. Its architecture blended traditional craftsmanship with sleek modern additions. Wide terraces overlooked orchards, gardens and a lake fed by a winding stream.
Beyond the residence lay kilometres of cultivated farmland.
Agricultural drones travelled silently between fields. Automated harvesting machines moved through golden crops. Livestock grazed beneath the watchful attention of small robotic caretakers.
Anakin pointed.
"Is that it?"
Martus nodded.
"Vorran Farm."
Owen leaned closer to the viewport.
"All of it?"
"All of it."
Cliegg gave a low whistle.
"Your family must've done rather well for themselves."
"They worked hard," Martus replied. "My ancestors started with a modest agricultural holding. Every generation expanded it, improved it and learned something new."
"And now?"
"Now it produces food, develops agricultural technology and trains people who want to learn how to use it."
The transport descended towards a landing platform beside the farmhouse.
"And," Martus added, "it's about to have a new family."
The farmhouse doors opened before they reached them.
A gentle voice welcomed them inside.
"Good afternoon, Master Vorran. Your arrival has been anticipated. The residence has been prepared for six guests."
"Thank you, Evelyn."
Anakin looked around.
"Who's Evelyn?"
"The house's central intelligence."
"The house can talk?"
"Among other things."
"Can it tell jokes?"
"Yes."
"Good ones?"
Martus considered the question.
"Debatable."
"Master Vorran," Evelyn replied pleasantly, "your assessment of my humour remains statistically inconsistent."
Beru covered her mouth.
Martus gestured towards the entrance.
"Welcome home."
The words caught Shmi's attention.
She looked at him, but Martus simply led them inside.
The entrance hall opened into a spacious living area overlooking the gardens. Natural light poured through enormous windows. Comfortable furniture surrounded a broad fireplace, while shelves displayed books, photographs and objects collected over generations.
It was luxurious without feeling like a palace.
Someone had lived here.
Families had celebrated birthdays here. Children had run through the halls. Meals had been shared around the long dining table visible through an adjoining doorway.
Shmi noticed a framed photograph of a smiling elderly couple standing beside a much younger Martus.
"Your parents?"
"My grandparents."
"They look very happy."
"They were."
Martus studied the photograph for a moment.
"My grandfather used to say a farm wasn't measured by the amount of land you owned. It was measured by what you managed to grow, and how many people you could feed."
Cliegg nodded approvingly.
"Sounds like a sensible man."
"He was. Stubborn as a bantha, though."
"Usually comes with the occupation."
Martus chuckled.
He guided them through the residence, showing them the bedrooms, kitchens, medical suite, workshops and recreational areas.
Cliegg stopped when they reached the medical suite.
"That's part of the house?"
"Yes."
"For emergencies?"
"Emergencies, routine examinations, rehabilitation. Earth takes preventative medicine seriously."
Martus glanced at Cliegg's leg.
"Speaking of which, I'd like one of our physicians to examine that old injury of yours."
Cliegg shifted his weight.
"It's nothing."
"That's an interesting definition of nothing, considering you've been favouring it since Mos Espa."
Shmi gave her husband a pointed look.
"I told you."
Cliegg sighed.
"Apparently I'm outnumbered."
"Terribly unfortunate," Martus replied.
They continued outside.
Owen's attention immediately went to the machinery.
A compact agricultural vehicle rolled past them, carrying containers of freshly harvested produce. No driver sat inside.
"How does that know where it's going?"
"Navigation sensors, environmental mapping and a central agricultural network," Martus explained. "It identifies its route, monitors obstacles and coordinates with other machines."
"Doesn't it ever break down?"
"Of course."
Owen looked surprised.
Martus smiled.
"Advanced technology isn't magic, Owen. Bearings wear out. Connections fail. Components overheat. The difference is that our machines can often identify a problem before it becomes serious."
"And repair themselves?"
"Some problems. Others require a technician."
"Could I learn?"
"That's rather the point."
They reached a viewing platform overlooking the estate.
Martus rested his hands on the railing.
"My family built this place over generations. I spent much of my childhood here, and I've maintained it since their passing. But my responsibilities keep me away for long stretches."
He turned towards Shmi and Cliegg.
"I don't want the farm sitting here waiting for me to find time to enjoy it."
Shmi frowned slightly.
"Martus?"
"I'd like you to make it your home."
Cliegg stared at him.
"You mean stay here?"
"Yes."
"For how long?"
"As long as you wish."
Shmi looked towards the farmhouse, then across the fields.
"Martus, this is far too much."
"It's a home, Shmi. A very large one, admittedly, but a home nonetheless."
"You barely know us."
"I know enough."
He glanced at Anakin.
"And I've made a promise to your son that his family would have the freedom to choose their future."
Cliegg folded his arms.
"What happens to the farm?"
"You live here. Manage it if you want, learn how everything works, make decisions about the residence and grounds. I'll arrange the legal details so your family has secure rights to the property. No uncertainty, no dependence on my continued goodwill."
Owen looked at him sharply.
"You're serious."
"Entirely."
Martus regarded them all.
"There's no obligation to accept. You're free to return to Tatooine, remain here or divide your time between both worlds. The choice belongs to you."
For several moments, nobody spoke.
Then Anakin looked at his mother.
"Do you like it, Mum?"
Shmi smiled at him.
"Very much."
"Then you should stay."
She brushed a hand through his hair.
"We'll talk about it, Ani."
Martus nodded.
"Take all the time you need."
Owen lasted approximately twenty minutes before asking to see the water systems.
Martus had expected ten.
They travelled by electric utility vehicle to a processing facility near the southern fields. Anakin sat beside Owen, practically vibrating with anticipation, while Beru studied a digital map of the estate.
The facility contained filtration equipment, storage reservoirs, pumps and monitoring stations. Large pipes ran beneath the floor, carrying water to different agricultural zones.
Owen stopped beside a transparent inspection panel.
"That's your filtration system?"
"One stage of it."
"How much water does it process?"
Martus gave him the figures.
Owen stared.
"That's more than our entire farm collects in months."
"Earth's climate provides considerably more atmospheric moisture than Tatooine's."
"So we couldn't simply put one of these on our farm?"
"Not without modifying it. A system designed for Earth's humidity would perform poorly in the Dune Sea."
Owen looked disappointed.
Martus noticed.
"Which is why we start with the conditions you actually have."
He activated a nearby display.
A three-dimensional model of the Lars homestead appeared above the table.
Anakin's mouth fell open.
"That's our house!"
"Your brother's house," Martus corrected gently. "And your home whenever you visit."
Owen moved closer.
"How'd you get that?"
"Survey information, your descriptions and a few measurements I collected during our visit. It's an approximate model. We'll need proper readings before installing anything."
He highlighted the existing moisture vaporators.
"First, we improve collection efficiency. Better condensers, insulation, filters and storage. Then we examine whether the local conditions justify supplementary atmospheric harvesting."
"Groundwater?" Owen asked.
"Only if a geological survey establishes that there's a usable source. I'm not going to promise you an underground lake without evidence."
Anakin pointed towards the model.
"What about solar power?"
Martus smiled.
"An excellent suggestion."
Owen looked at his stepbrother.
"You know about solar generators?"
"Some. I built parts of my podracer's power regulation system myself."
"You built a podracer?"
Anakin blinked.
"Didn't Mum tell you?"
"She said you raced one. She didn't say you built it."
"Well, I didn't build every part. I found some of them. And I made the others fit."
Owen stared at him for a moment.
Then he laughed.
"You're nine."
"I know."
"And you built a podracer?"
Anakin shrugged.
"Is that bad?"
"No, Ani. That's bloody remarkable."
Martus folded his arms, thoroughly enjoying himself.
"He's rather good with machinery."
"Rather good?" Owen repeated. "Master Vorran, most grown men I know couldn't assemble a functioning podracer."
"Which is why I intend to keep him supplied with books."
Anakin grinned.
Beru stepped towards another display.
"What about growing food?"
Martus switched the projection.
The moisture farm transformed into a proposed agricultural complex with enclosed greenhouses, storage facilities and a small processing workshop.
"Start modestly," he explained. "A controlled greenhouse, perhaps hydroponics for certain crops. Recycle as much water as possible. Capture condensation. Compost suitable organic waste and gradually build a reusable growing medium."
Beru studied the layout.
"Could we grow vegetables year-round?"
"Potentially, with appropriate temperature control and sufficient energy. The limiting factors will be water, maintenance and operating costs."
"And the compost?"
"Earth uses sophisticated soil-conditioning systems, including nanosoil technology. But you don't need to begin with our most complicated equipment."
He displayed a sealed composting unit.
"Something like this would be far more practical. It conserves moisture, controls decomposition and allows you to recover some of the water that would otherwise be lost."
Beru smiled.
"I could manage that."
"I suspect you could manage considerably more."
Owen examined the plans.
"How much would all this cost?"
"That's a conversation we'll have once we've worked out what you actually need."
"I don't want you paying for everything."
"Good."
Owen blinked.
Martus continued.
"Because I don't want you depending on me every time something breaks. I'll help you establish the operation, but you'll learn how the systems function, how to repair them and how to make sensible decisions about expanding."
He opened a storage cabinet.
Inside were several sturdy engineering textbooks and interactive technical manuals.
"Mechanical engineering. Electrical systems. Fluid dynamics. Agricultural automation. Water treatment. Business management."
Owen picked up the first book.
"All of these?"
"Eventually."
Anakin reached for one.
Martus intercepted his hand.
"Not all at once."
"But Master!"
"You still have your Jedi studies."
"I can do both."
"I know. That's what worries me."
Beru laughed.
Martus handed Owen a smaller introductory volume.
"Start here. We'll work through the practical lessons together."
Owen opened it, studying the first diagram.
For the first time since arriving on Earth, he wasn't merely imagining how different life could be.
He was beginning to understand how he might change it himself.
Their first practical lesson took place the following morning.
Martus deliberately selected an older irrigation pump from one of the estate's workshops.
It had been removed from service after developing an intermittent pressure fault.
Owen crouched beside it while Anakin examined the diagnostic display.
"The pressure drops every few minutes," Anakin said.
"Correct," Martus replied.
"Could be the regulator."
"Could be."
Owen ran his fingers along the pipework.
"Or a damaged seal."
"Also possible."
Anakin looked up.
"Can we open it?"
"That's generally how one investigates machinery."
The boy grinned.
They disconnected the power supply, isolated the water line and removed the outer housing.
Owen worked carefully, examining the mechanical components while Anakin studied the electrical connections.
"Found something," Owen announced.
He held up a worn sealing ring.
Anakin frowned.
"That wouldn't explain the electrical fluctuations."
"No," Owen agreed. "But it would explain the pressure loss."
Martus nodded.
"Keep looking."
Several minutes later, Anakin discovered a damaged sensor connection.
"There!"
Owen leaned over.
"Good catch."
Anakin beamed.
Together, they replaced the seal, repaired the connection and reassembled the pump.
Martus watched without interfering.
When Owen restarted the system, the pressure stabilised.
Anakin threw both hands into the air.
"We fixed it!"
Owen grinned.
"We did."
He offered his hand.
Anakin slapped it enthusiastically.
Martus approached the diagnostic panel.
"Excellent work."
"Can we do another one?" Anakin asked.
"After lunch."
"But we're nearly finished!"
"Anakin, we've been here for three hours."
The boy looked astonished.
"Really?"
Owen glanced at the workshop clock.
"He's right."
Martus smiled.
"There's a valuable lesson in that."
"About engineering?" Anakin asked.
"About remembering to eat."
That evening, Cliegg Lars stood on the farmhouse terrace with his wife.
The sun was setting behind the distant hills. Warm light stretched across the fields, and a gentle breeze carried the scent of flowers from the gardens below.
Shmi leaned against the railing.
"It's beautiful."
Cliegg nodded.
"Certainly beats watching sand blow across the courtyard."
She smiled.
"You'll miss it."
"Some of it."
"The farm?"
"Of course."
He looked towards the distant agricultural buildings.
"I've spent most of my life fixing vaporators, negotiating with suppliers and wondering whether the next harvest would cover the bills."
"And you built something worthwhile."
"We did our best."
Shmi reached for his hand.
"You gave me a home, Cliegg. You gave me freedom."
He turned towards her.
"And you've given me more happiness than I ever expected to find."
They stood quietly for a while.
Then Cliegg said, "I think we should stay."
Shmi looked at him.
"Here?"
"On Earth."
"Cliegg…"
"I'm serious."
He gestured towards the estate.
"Look at this place. We could spend the rest of our lives here. No Hutts demanding payments. No sandstorms destroying equipment. No wondering whether we've collected enough water."
"What about Owen?"
"That's what I've been thinking about."
Cliegg paused.
"He's a grown man. He's got Beru. And you've seen him these past two days."
Shmi smiled.
"I have."
"He's taken to those machines like he was born knowing how they work."
"Anakin seems rather impressed with him."
Cliegg chuckled.
"Those two are going to be dangerous together."
Shmi laughed softly.
He squeezed her hand.
"The farm should be Owen's."
"Are you certain?"
"I've been certain for years that he'd take over eventually. I just never imagined I'd have somewhere else to go."
Shmi studied her husband.
"And what would you do here?"
"Learn. Help with the livestock. Perhaps teach these Earth farmers a thing or two about making equipment last when you've got nothing but scrap metal and stubbornness."
"I think they'd enjoy that."
"And I'd like to get this leg looked at."
Shmi turned towards him.
"Really?"
"Don't sound so surprised."
"You've been refusing for years."
"Well, I've had a change of heart."
She embraced him.
Cliegg kissed her forehead.
"Besides," he murmured, "I'd rather spend my remaining years enjoying life with my wife than arguing with broken machinery."
Shmi closed her eyes.
For so long, her future had been decided by other people.
Watto.
The demands of slavery.
The dangers of Tatooine.
Even after Cliegg freed her, peace had remained something fragile, something that could be lost.
Now they were standing beneath an unfamiliar sky, discussing where they wanted to grow old.
The simplicity of that choice felt extraordinary.
"Then let's stay," she whispered.
Owen was in the study when his father found him.
Several engineering books lay open across the table. Beru sat beside him, making notes on greenhouse construction.
Cliegg paused in the doorway.
"Am I interrupting?"
Owen looked up.
"Just trying to work out how much equipment we can fit into the south courtyard."
"Planning renovations already?"
"Someone has to."
Cliegg smiled.
"Mind if I sit?"
Beru closed her notebook.
"Of course not."
Cliegg took the chair opposite them.
"Your mother and I have made a decision."
Owen's expression changed.
"Everything all right?"
"Better than all right."
He glanced at Beru, then back to his son.
"We've decided to stay on Earth."
Owen sat very still.
"You're not coming back?"
"To visit, certainly. But we're making this our home."
Owen looked towards the window.
"Right."
Cliegg recognised the disappointment beneath his son's carefully neutral expression.
"There's something else."
He placed a small document case on the table.
"The farm."
Owen looked at it.
"What about it?"
"I'm passing it on to you."
Silence settled over the room.
Owen stared at his father.
"Dad?"
"The homestead, the vaporators, the land, the equipment. Everything. I've had the transfer documents prepared with Martus's help. Once they're registered on Tatooine, the place is yours."
Owen opened the case.
Inside were the records of a lifetime's work.
"You're giving me the farm?"
"Yes."
"Just like that?"
Cliegg laughed.
"There's nothing particularly sudden about it, son. You've been helping me run that place for years."
"But it's yours."
"It was mine. Before that, it belonged to my father. And now it's time for you to decide what comes next."
Owen looked at Beru.
She gave him an encouraging smile.
Cliegg continued.
"I've watched you working with Martus. I've listened to you talking about irrigation systems and greenhouses. You have ideas I never had the opportunity to explore."
"Doesn't mean they'll work."
"No. It doesn't."
Owen looked back at him.
"But you'll find out. You'll make mistakes. You'll repair things that break, and sometimes you'll discover that something you thought was a brilliant idea wasn't worth the trouble."
Cliegg leaned forward.
"That's farming."
Owen gave a reluctant smile.
"And if I ruin everything?"
"Then you'll learn from it. But I don't believe you will."
He turned towards Beru.
"And I expect the two of you to make those decisions together."
Beru nodded.
"We will."
"I know you will."
Cliegg stood.
Owen rose with him.
For a moment, neither man seemed quite certain what to say.
Then Cliegg extended his hand.
"You've got this, son."
Owen took it.
His father pulled him into an embrace.
"Make it your own," Cliegg said quietly.
Owen held him tightly.
"I will, Dad."
"And remember, you're always welcome here. Both of you."
Owen stepped back, blinking.
"Even if I spend the entire visit talking about pumps?"
Cliegg laughed.
"Especially then. Someone has to keep Martus entertained."
The following days passed quickly.
Owen and Beru worked with Martus to develop a practical plan for the Tatooine farm.
They agreed to begin with the existing vaporators rather than replacing everything at once. Earth-designed improvements would increase efficiency where possible, while new filtration equipment and insulated storage would reduce waste.
A modest greenhouse would follow.
Beru selected several hardy crops suitable for controlled cultivation and began studying nutrient management, composting and water recycling.
Martus arranged for equipment that could be repaired using tools and components available on Tatooine whenever possible. More specialised systems would come with spare parts, diagnostic instructions and appropriate safeguards.
He also insisted that Owen understand the business side of the operation.
"Water is valuable on Tatooine," Martus told him one afternoon. "That means you'll attract attention if you start producing considerably more of it."
"From competitors?"
"Competitors, merchants, local authorities and people who believe anything profitable ought to belong to them."
Owen understood.
"The Hutts."
"Among others."
"Jabba controls a lot of the trade around Mos Espa."
"Then eventually you may need to negotiate with him."
Owen frowned.
"I don't particularly like that idea."
"Neither do I. But disliking someone doesn't make their influence disappear."
Martus brought up a financial projection.
"Before you negotiate with anyone, understand your costs, your margins and the value of what you're offering. Never confuse revenue with profit. And never give someone control of your land or technology simply because they promise access to a market."
Owen studied the figures.
"You're expecting this to become more than a family farm."
"I'm expecting you to decide what it becomes."
Beru looked towards the greenhouse plans.
"If we can grow enough food, we could supply the nearby settlements."
"And employ people," Owen added.
Martus nodded.
"Precisely. Build something useful. Make a fair living from it. Just don't expand faster than you can maintain."
Anakin, who had been quietly examining a pump schematic, looked up.
"Could I help?"
Owen smiled.
"Thought you already were."
"I mean when you're back on Tatooine."
"Of course."
"Really?"
"You're my brother, Ani. You don't need an invitation to visit."
Anakin went quiet.
Owen noticed.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"Come on."
Anakin looked down at the schematic.
"I've just never had a brother before."
Owen's expression softened.
"Well, you've got one now."
He tapped the diagram.
"And I expect you to help me work out why this regulator keeps overheating."
Anakin grinned.
"Easy. The cooling system's too small."
Owen examined the drawing.
A moment passed.
Then he looked at Martus.
"He's right, isn't he?"
Martus smiled.
"Entirely."
Owen sighed.
"Wonderful. My little brother's already making me look foolish."
"Only a little," Anakin assured him.
On the morning of their departure, Owen found Shmi in the farmhouse kitchen.
She was preparing a small package of food for the journey.
"You know Beru packed enough supplies yesterday," he said.
Shmi glanced over her shoulder.
"And now you'll have a little more."
Owen smiled.
"You're starting to sound like Dad."
"Someone has to make sure you eat properly."
He approached the counter.
"Shmi?"
"Yes?"
"Are you happy here?"
She stopped what she was doing.
"Very."
"Good."
He looked through the window towards the gardens, where Cliegg was discussing a small agricultural machine with one of the estate's technicians.
"Dad deserves this."
"So do you, Owen."
"I've got the farm. Beru and I will be fine."
"I know you will."
She folded the package and handed it to him.
"But I want you to understand something."
Owen accepted it.
"What?"
"Earth isn't only your father's home. It's yours too."
He smiled faintly.
"Home's on Tatooine."
"You have more than one home now."
Owen looked at her.
Shmi continued.
"You and Beru can visit whenever you wish. You can stay for a day, a month or longer. There will always be a place for you here."
"That's kind of you."
"You're family."
Something in the simple certainty of her words made him hesitate.
Shmi stepped closer.
"I know I didn't raise you, Owen. And I would never presume to replace your mother. But I hope you know how much you mean to me."
Owen swallowed.
"I do."
She smiled.
"Good."
He set the package aside and embraced her.
"Thanks, Mum."
Shmi froze.
Owen realised what he'd said.
He drew back.
"Sorry. I didn't mean to…"
"Don't apologise."
Her eyes glistened.
"Owen, you never need to apologise for that."
He looked at her uncertainly.
"You're sure?"
She cupped his cheek.
"I'd be honoured."
Owen smiled.
"Right, then."
Shmi laughed through her tears.
He hugged her again.
From the doorway, Anakin watched with a broad smile.
Neither of them had noticed him.
He didn't interrupt.
For years, his mother had been the centre of his small world. He had worried about leaving her, worried about what might happen while he was away.
Now she had a husband who loved her, another son who cared about her and a home where nobody could claim ownership of her life.
Anakin felt something settle quietly inside him.
He was still going to miss her.
But missing someone was different from fearing for them.
Owen and Beru departed that afternoon.
Their transport carried the first shipment of equipment, tools, technical manuals and greenhouse components approved for use on Tatooine.
Martus had arranged secure transport for the remaining materials once the homestead's infrastructure had been properly surveyed.
Cliegg accompanied his son to the landing platform.
"Remember what I said."
Owen smiled.
"Don't try to fix everything in one day."
"And?"
"Keep proper records."
"And?"
"Call you if something goes wrong."
Cliegg nodded.
"Good."
Owen embraced his father.
"I'll make you proud."
Cliegg held him for a moment.
"You already have."
Beru hugged Shmi, promising to send updates once they were settled.
Then Anakin approached Owen.
"You'll send me the plans?"
"Every revision."
"And the pressure readings?"
"Those too."
"And if the greenhouse…"
Owen laughed.
"Ani, I'll send you everything."
Anakin threw his arms around him.
Owen returned the embrace.
"Look after yourself, little brother."
"You too."
Beru took Anakin's hand.
"And don't spend all your time studying machinery. You're supposed to be learning how to become a Jedi."
"I know."
She raised an eyebrow.
"Do you?"
Anakin grinned.
"Mostly."
Martus shook Owen's hand.
"Remember, the equipment is only the beginning. The knowledge is what makes it useful."
Owen nodded.
"I won't forget."
"And if you ever decide to negotiate with Jabba, speak to me before signing anything."
"Believe me, I will."
The transport lifted from the platform.
Cliegg stood beside Shmi as they watched it climb into the sky.
For the first time in his life, Owen Lars was returning to Tatooine as the owner of his family's farm.
And for the first time in many years, Cliegg had no intention of following him back.
Later that day, Martus brought Anakin to a facility concealed beneath one of Earth's research complexes.
Its entrance was unremarkable.
The interior was anything but.
Anakin stepped into an enormous laboratory filled with articulated robotic arms, holographic workstations, fabrication chambers and rows of sophisticated instruments.
His eyes widened.
"Master…"
Martus smiled.
"Welcome to the Forge."
Anakin slowly turned in a circle.
"Can we live here?"
"No."
"Just for a week?"
"No."
"A day?"
"Anakin."
"Right."
Behind them, C-3PO stepped cautiously into the laboratory.
"Oh, my. Master Anakin, I must confess I find this establishment rather intimidating."
"Don't worry, Threepio."
"With respect, Master Anakin, you said precisely the same thing immediately before attempting to improve my left knee actuator with a podracer component."
"It worked!"
"For approximately seventeen minutes."
Martus chuckled.
"Come along, Threepio."
They approached a diagnostic platform.
C-3PO examined it nervously.
"Am I to understand that I shall be dismantled?"
"Temporarily, in a controlled manner," Martus replied. "But only if you agree."
Threepio paused.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You're the one receiving the upgrades. You deserve to understand what's being done."
The droid turned towards Anakin.
"Master Anakin?"
Anakin smiled.
"You're going to be better than ever, Threepio. Stronger, faster, smarter. And you won't have to worry about your parts wearing out all the time."
"That would be a considerable relief."
Martus activated a holographic projection of Threepio's internal structure.
"First, we'll reinforce your skeleton using an advanced titanium-carbon composite. Then we'll improve your actuators, processing systems, sensors, memory architecture and diagnostic capabilities."
Threepio studied the projection.
"Good heavens."
"Your original memory and personality will remain intact."
Anakin looked at Martus.
"Everything?"
"Everything. He's not being replaced, Anakin. We're improving the body and systems of the droid you built."
Threepio straightened.
"That is most reassuring."
Martus highlighted a small component within the chest cavity.
"And this is something rather special."
A compact blue mechanism appeared in the projection.
"An emotional emulator."
Threepio tilted his head.
"Emotional?"
"Yes. It will allow you to experience a much richer range of feelings and develop your own responses to them."
"Would that not make me rather unpredictable?"
"Possibly."
"Oh, dear."
Martus smiled.
"People are unpredictable too, Threepio. That's part of being an individual."
The droid considered this.
"Would I still be myself?"
"Absolutely."
"And Master Anakin would still recognise me?"
Anakin stepped forward.
"Of course I would."
Threepio looked between them.
"Then I believe I should like to proceed."
The procedure took several hours.
Anakin remained beside the technicians throughout, assisting wherever his knowledge allowed.
He watched as Threepio's original components were carefully examined, preserved or replaced. The Forge's fabrication systems produced a reinforced internal framework, more sophisticated joints and compact mechanisms far beyond anything available in Watto's workshop.
Martus explained each major change.
Anakin asked questions.
Hundreds of them.
At one point, a technician glanced towards Martus.
"Does he ever stop?"
"Occasionally," Martus replied. "Usually when he's asleep."
"Usually?"
"He's been known to ask questions in his sleep."
Anakin looked offended.
"I do not!"
Martus raised an eyebrow.
"Last night you asked whether a lightsaber could be powered by a miniature fusion reactor."
Anakin blinked.
"Oh."
The technician laughed.
By the time the final assembly began, Threepio's familiar silhouette had been preserved almost perfectly.
His head remained unmistakably his own, with its distinctive facial structure and round golden eyes.
His limbs retained their recognisable proportions, now concealing far more advanced mechanical systems beneath polished gold plating.
The most obvious improvement was his torso.
Where exposed wiring had once crossed his abdomen, fitted articulated gold armour now enclosed and protected the internal mechanisms while allowing him to move naturally.
There was no visible reactor, no dramatic alteration to his face and no attempt to turn him into something unrecognisable.
He was still C-3PO.
Only now, he looked complete.
Anakin stood beside the platform as the technicians finished their checks.
"Ready?" Martus asked.
Anakin nodded eagerly.
Martus activated the final sequence.
A soft mechanical hum filled the room.
Threepio's golden eyes illuminated.
His fingers moved.
Then his head turned.
"Oh."
Anakin leaned forward.
"Threepio?"
The droid looked at him.
"Master Anakin?"
"How do you feel?"
Threepio paused.
He looked down at his hands.
Opened and closed his fingers.
Turned his wrists.
Then, with remarkable smoothness, he sat upright.
"How extraordinary."
He stood.
For the first time, his movements were almost completely fluid.
No stiff hesitation.
No awkward mechanical resistance.
He took several steps, stopped and looked back at Anakin.
"I appear to be functioning exceptionally well."
Anakin laughed.
"You're walking!"
"Indeed, sir. Although I was technically capable of walking before."
"Not like that!"
Threepio looked at Martus.
"Master Vorran, I seem to possess an astonishing amount of new information."
"Your processing capacity has increased considerably."
"And I can access several advanced diagnostic systems."
"Correct."
"And…"
Threepio stopped.
His gaze returned to Anakin.
Something unfamiliar passed through his new emotional architecture.
He understood that the boy standing before him had spent years assembling his original body from discarded machinery.
He remembered Shmi's workshop.
The sand.
Anakin's excitement whenever a repaired component finally worked.
He remembered being unfinished.
He remembered the boy promising that one day he would make him better.
"Master Anakin?"
"Yeah?"
"I believe…"
Threepio hesitated.
"I believe I am happy."
Anakin's smile softened.
"Really?"
"Yes."
He looked down at himself again.
"Quite extraordinarily happy, in fact."
Anakin embraced him.
Threepio froze for a fraction of a second.
Then his arms moved around the boy.
"Oh, my."
Martus watched quietly.
The droid's voice softened.
"Thank you, Master Anakin."
Anakin stepped back.
"For what?"
"For building me."
Later, the three of them gathered in the Forge's observation room.
Threepio was studying the technical specifications of his new systems with considerable fascination.
"I must say, Master Vorran, these upgrades are remarkable. I appear capable of performing several million calculations simultaneously while maintaining independent conversational processes."
"Useful, isn't it?"
"Extremely. Although I suspect Master Anakin will find numerous ways to occupy all of them."
Anakin grinned.
"Probably."
Martus sat opposite the droid.
"There's something I'd like to discuss with you, Threepio."
"Certainly, sir."
"Anakin and I will be returning to Coruscant tomorrow."
Threepio's posture changed slightly.
"I see."
"We'd like you to come with us."
The droid looked up.
"Both of you?"
"Both of us."
Anakin leaned forward.
"You could help me with my studies and engineering projects."
"And help me with Council administration, diplomacy, research and mission planning," Martus added.
Threepio glanced between them.
"Would I be serving you, Master Vorran, or Master Anakin?"
Martus smiled.
"Both."
"Equally?"
"Equally."
Anakin nodded.
"You'd be our companion."
Threepio considered that.
"And if you both require my assistance simultaneously?"
"Your new processors should make that manageable," Martus replied.
"Provided neither of you attempts anything catastrophically foolish."
Anakin laughed.
Martus placed a hand against his chest.
"Threepio, I'm wounded."
"With respect, sir, I have reviewed Master Anakin's podracing records and several of your own mission reports."
Martus narrowed his eyes.
"Have you?"
"Yes, sir."
"And?"
"I believe the probability of encountering catastrophically foolish circumstances is distressingly high."
Anakin burst into laughter.
Martus sighed.
"Wonderful. We've given him a sense of humour."
Threepio straightened.
"I must confess, sir, I rather enjoy it."
Martus smiled.
"Then what do you say?"
The golden droid looked towards Anakin.
The boy who had built him.
Then towards Martus.
The man who had offered him a future beyond the limitations of his original design.
"I should be delighted to accompany you both."
"Excellent," Martus replied.
Threepio paused.
"Although I would appreciate clarification regarding my official designation."
Martus considered.
"Senior Protocol, Diplomatic and Technical Assistant to Jedi Master Martus Kael Vorran and Padawan Anakin Skywalker."
Threepio stood a little straighter.
"That is a rather impressive title."
Anakin grinned.
"It's a long one."
"Indeed, Master Anakin. I shall endeavour to live up to it."
Martus rose.
"Come along, gentlemen. We've a family to see before we leave."
The following morning, Shmi stood beside the landing platform with Cliegg.
The transport was ready.
Anakin had packed his belongings, including several Earth engineering textbooks and a collection of technical diagrams he intended to study during the journey.
Threepio stood nearby, his polished golden body gleaming beneath the morning sunlight.
Shmi regarded him with astonishment.
"Threepio?"
The droid turned.
"Mistress Shmi!"
His voice was as familiar as ever.
She smiled.
"Look at you."
"Yes, madam. I have undergone a rather extensive series of improvements."
"You look wonderful."
"Thank you. I must confess, I feel rather wonderful as well."
Shmi laughed.
Threepio stepped closer.
"I also wished to thank you, Mistress Shmi."
"For what?"
"For the kindness you showed me when Master Anakin was constructing my original body."
Shmi's expression softened.
"Oh, Threepio."
"I remember those days very clearly. And I am most pleased to see you so happy."
She rested a hand against his golden arm.
"I'm happy for you too."
Nearby, Cliegg shook Martus's hand.
"I don't know how to thank you."
"Then don't."
Cliegg smiled.
"You've given us a future I never thought we'd have."
"You've earned the right to enjoy it."
Cliegg glanced towards the farmhouse.
"That medical appointment's this afternoon."
"Good."
"And I've been looking at the livestock facilities."
"Excellent."
"Think I might have a few suggestions."
Martus laughed.
"I'd be disappointed if you didn't."
Anakin approached his mother.
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Shmi knelt and embraced him.
"My brave boy."
Anakin held her tightly.
"I'll come back soon."
"I know you will."
"And I'll send messages."
"I'd like that."
"And Owen said he'd send me the greenhouse plans."
Shmi smiled.
"He's very excited about the farm."
"So am I."
He drew back.
"You're really happy here, Mum?"
She looked into his eyes.
"Yes, Ani. I truly am."
"And you're safe?"
"Very safe."
Anakin nodded.
The familiar ache of leaving her was still there.
But it no longer carried the same fear.
Shmi kissed his forehead.
"Now, you listen to your master."
"I will."
Martus, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow.
"Anakin, you realise I can hear you making promises you'll immediately test?"
The boy grinned.
"I'll try."
"Much more believable."
Shmi laughed.
Anakin embraced her once more.
Then he stepped back and joined Martus and Threepio at the transport.
As the boarding ramp rose, Threepio looked towards the Lars couple.
"Farewell, Mistress Shmi. Farewell, Master Cliegg. I do hope we shall meet again soon."
Cliegg waved.
"Take care of those two, Threepio."
The droid glanced at Martus and Anakin.
"I shall certainly endeavour to do so, sir."
A pause.
"Although I suspect the task may prove rather demanding."
The transport rose above Vorran Farm.
From the observation window, Anakin watched the farmhouse shrink beneath them.
The fields became patches of green.
The lake became a silver reflection.
Then the estate disappeared beneath the clouds.
Martus settled into the pilot's chair.
"Everything all right?"
Anakin nodded.
"Yeah."
"Going to miss them?"
"Of course."
"That's perfectly natural."
Anakin looked towards the viewport.
"But Mum's happy."
"She is."
"And Owen's got the farm."
"He does."
"And Threepio's coming with us."
From the seat behind them, the droid straightened.
"Indeed, Master Anakin. I am very much looking forward to beginning my new responsibilities."
Martus smiled.
"Then I'd say things have worked out rather well."
Anakin considered that.
"Master?"
"Yes?"
"When can we visit Owen?"
"We'll arrange something once your training schedule allows."
"Could we help him build the greenhouse?"
"Possibly."
"And the new vaporators?"
"Perhaps."
"And I had an idea about the cooling system…"
Martus glanced at him.
"Anakin."
"Yes, Master?"
"Have you finished the engineering textbook I gave you?"
"Almost."
"Then perhaps we should begin there."
Anakin grinned.
"Yes, Master."
Threepio leaned forward.
"If I may, gentlemen, I have already reviewed the relevant technical literature and identified several potential improvements to the proposed greenhouse design."
Anakin turned excitedly.
"Really?"
"Indeed."
Martus closed his eyes for a brief moment.
He had given one extraordinarily curious boy access to Earth's engineering knowledge.
Now he had added a droid capable of processing that knowledge at remarkable speed.
The implications were becoming increasingly apparent.
"Threepio," he said.
"Yes, Master Vorran?"
"Please remind me to establish a workshop at the Temple."
"Certainly, sir."
"Preferably somewhere well away from the Council chambers."
"An eminently sensible precaution."
Anakin looked between them.
"Why?"
Martus smiled.
"No particular reason."
Threepio tilted his head.
"Shall I also prepare a list of appropriate fire-suppression equipment?"
Martus considered.
"Yes. Yes, I think you should."
Anakin frowned.
"I'm not going to blow anything up!"
Neither Martus nor Threepio replied.
"Master!"
Martus laughed as the transport cleared Earth's atmosphere.
Ahead lay the stars, the hidden hyperspace route and eventually Coruscant, where the Jedi Temple awaited their return.
Behind them, on a world whose location remained carefully guarded, Shmi and Cliegg Lars were beginning a peaceful new life.
On Tatooine, Owen and Beru were preparing to transform an old moisture farm into something neither could yet fully imagine.
And aboard a small transport travelling between worlds, a Jedi Master, his young Padawan and a newly transformed golden droid were discovering what it meant to become a team.
Martus entered the hyperspace coordinates.
The stars stretched into brilliant lines.
Anakin leaned back in his seat, an engineering textbook open across his knees.
Threepio began reviewing the Jedi Temple's administrative procedures.
And somewhere in the depths of his upgraded processors, the golden droid experienced a feeling he was only beginning to understand.
Anticipation.
For the first time, C-3PO wasn't merely waiting for his next instruction.
He was looking forward to tomorrow.