“He was the best pilot I ever knew," Kenobi went on, "and a smart fighter. The force…the instinct was strong in him." For a brief second Kenobi actually appeared old. "He was also a good friend." Suddenly the boyish twinkle returned to those piercing eyes along with the old man’s natural humor. "I understand you’re quite a pilot yourself. Piloting and navigation aren’t hereditary, but a number of the things that can combine to make a good small-ship pilot are. Those you may have inherited. Still, even a duck has to be taught to swim." "What’s a duck?" Luke asked curiously.
"Never mind. In many ways, you know, you are much like your father." Kenobi’s unabashed look of evaluation made Luke nervous. "You’ve grown up quite a bit since the last time I saw you." Having no reply for that, Luke waited silently as Kenobi sank back into deep contemplation. After a while the old man stirred, evidently having reached an important decision.
"All this reminds me," he declared with deceptive casualness, "I have something here for you." He rose and walked over to a bulky, old-fashioned chest and started rummaging through it. All sorts of intriguing items were removed and shoved around, only to be placed back in the bin. A few of them Luke recognized. As Kenobi was obviously intent on something important, he forbore inquiring about any of the other tantalizing flotsam.
"When you were old enough," Kenobi was saying, "your father want you to have this…if I can ever find the blasted device. I tried to give it to you once before, but your uncle wouldn’t allow it. He believed you might get some crazy ideas from it and end up following old Obi-wan on some idealistic crusade.
"You see, Luke, that’s where your father and your Uncle Owen disagreed. Lars is not a man to let idealism interfere with business, whereas your father didn’t think the question even worth discussing. His decision on such matters came like his piloting—instinctively." Luke nodded. He finished picking out the last of the grit and looked around for one remaining component to snap back in Threepio’s open chest plate. Locating the restraining module, he opened the receiving latches in the machine and set about locking it back in place. Threepio watched the process and appeared to wince ever so perceptibly.
Luke stared into those metal and plastic photoreceptors for a long moment.
Then he set the module pointedly on the workbench and closed the ’droid up.
Threepio said nothing.
A grunt came from behind them, and Luke turned to see a pleased Kenobi walking over. He handed Luke a small, innocuous-looking device, which the youth studied with interest.
It consisted primarily of a short, thick handgrip with a couple of small switches set into the grip. Above this small post was a circular metal disk barely larger in diameter than his spread palm. A number of unfamiliar, jewel-like components were built into both handle and disk, including what looked like the smallest power cell Luke had ever seen. The reverse side of the disk was polished to a mirror brightness.
But it was the power cell that puzzled Luke the most. Whatever the thing was, it required a great deal of energy, according to the rating form of the cell.
责任编辑：mman
