Journey to Star Wars: The Force Awakens the Weapon of a Jedi: A Luke Skywalker Adventure

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Designed by Jason Wojtowicz

ISBN 978-1-4847-2500-9

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Star Wars
website:
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Contents

1. Prologue
   
2. Part One
   
3. Chapter 01:
   Red Squadron to the Rescue
   
4. Chapter 02:
   The Call of the Force
   
5. Chapter 03:
   The Hand of the Empire
   
6. Chapter 04:
   Return to Devaron
   
7. Part Two
   
8. Chapter 05:
   Vision of the Past
   
9. Chapter 06:
   Into the Woods
   
10. Chapter 07:
    The Lost Temple
    
11. Chapter 08:
    The Living Force
    
12. Part Three
    
13. Chapter 09:
    The Weapon of a Jedi Knight
    
14. Chapter 10:
    The Secret of the Force
    
15. Chapter 11:
    Imperial Attack
    
16. Chapter 12:
    The Scavenger’s Staff
    
17. Chapter 13:
    My Ally Is the Force
    
18. Epilogue
    
19. About the Author
    

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.…

The REBEL ALLIANCE has destroyed the Empire’s
dreaded DEATH STAR, but the galaxy remains
convulsed by civil war, and the Imperial starfleet is
hunting the rebels throughout the galaxy.

LUKE SKYWALKER, the pilot who destroyed the
Death Star, is now hailed as a hero. But Luke seeks
only to support the freedom fighters, serving the
Rebellion behind the controls of his X-wing fighter.

Even as he flies alongside the pilots of Red Squadron,
Luke feels stirrings in the mystical energy field
known as the Force. And this farm boy turned
fighter pilot begins to suspect that his destiny
lies along a different path.…

J
ESSIKA PAVA couldn’t stop staring at her X-wing fighter.

She pushed her black hair out of her eyes and sighed, forcing herself to turn around so she could no longer see the compact, deadly starfighter where it sat on its landing gear in the center of
the hangar. Her fellow pilots knew she wanted nothing more than to get back into space as Blue Three.

But Jessika was on droid duty
that week. Her job was to inventory the base’s astromechs and make sure they were ready for duty—programming updated, flight instruments tested and
confirmed as operational. It wasn’t the worst job in the squadron—assisting the maintenance techs with a fuel-system cleanout was much dirtier—but Jessika was sure it was the most
boring.

Her datapad beeped for her attention, and she looked
down at it with a sigh, then at the cone-headed R4 unit rolling by on its three stubby legs. The droid was painted in a green-and-white
checkerboard pattern, probably the work of a bored tech with time to kill.

“You there, droid,” the young pilot called out. “Need you to hold up a sec for operations check.”

The astromech whistled mournfully, no happier than Jessika about the need for
an inspection. But it came to a stop and popped open a panel on its dome to expose a diagnostics port. Jessika aimed
her datapad at the port and the pad blinked, beginning to exchange data with the droid’s systems. She sat down cross-legged on the hangar deck and resigned herself to wait.

“Excuse me, but might I be of assistance?” a voice asked brightly.

Jessika looked up into the expressionless
face of a protocol droid with a gold finish. It was an older model—practically an antique—with one arm clad in red plating and dozens of
dings and dents.

“I don’t think so, but thanks,” Jessika said. “It’s droid duty—the diagnostics program pretty much runs itself.”

“But not terribly efficiently,” said the droid, sounding disappointed. “But where are my manners? I am See-Threepio, human-cyborg
relations, at your service,
Miss…?”

“Pava. Jessika Pava. Blue Three.”

“It is an honor to meet you, Miss Pava,” Threepio said.

“Call me Blue Three.”

“Oh. As you wish, Miss—I mean, Blue Three. As I said, perhaps I could be of assistance. I just installed a very exciting new Tranlang database and am fluent in nearly seven million
forms of communication—including, of course, the
relatively primitive languages spoken by astromechs and diagnostics readers.”

The R4 unit squawked indignantly at Threepio.

“Insult you?” Threepio said, drawing back in surprise. “I did nothing of the sort, you hypersensitive little dustbin. Your method of communication
is
primitive—I
was merely stating a fact. Why, you don’t even have a proper vocabulator.”

The R4 unit honked and
swiveled its dome to stare at the protocol droid with its single electronic eye.

“Don’t move,” Jessika said. “You’ll break the data link and then—”

Her datapad beeped plaintively.

“Now we have to start all over,” she said.

The astromech hooted accusingly at Threepio.

“My fault?” Threepio replied. “Don’t be ridiculous. She told you not to move. Blue Three, might I suggest—”

“You know what, See-Threepio? I’ve got this. It’s a simple procedure, really. I’m sure you have many more important things to do.”

“You would think so, given that my specialties include communications and protocol,” Threepio said. “But it so happens I have completed all my tasks for the day. I was going to
suggest that this R4 unit might benefit from a memory wipe. When they start taking
offense at every helpful suggestion, it’s often a sign of flux in the motivator cortex.”

The R4 unit blew an electronic raspberry at Threepio, but this time remained still while the diagnostic program ran. Jessika rolled her eyes as the golden droid continued to chatter away.

“Why, I often told Master Luke that Artoo’s behavior would have been improved by a memory wipe. His eccentricities
have been more than I can bear for decades now. One time we were on
a diplomatic mission to Circarpous when—”

“Did you say Master Luke?” Jessika interrupted.

“Indeed I did,” Threepio said. “Master Luke Skywalker. Do you know him?”

“Do I know Luke Skywalker?” Jessika asked incredulously, scrambling to her feet. “Of course I know him! Well, I mean, I’ve never met him, but
everybody
knows Luke
Skywalker. He defeated the Emperor, and they say he’s the best star pilot in the galaxy.”

“You’d have to ask Artoo about that. Though I must warn you that Artoo has, shall we say, an inflated view of his own accomplishments. I myself find space travel most
unpleasant—”

“Wait, do you mean
Artoo-Detoo
?” Jessika asked in amazement. “The astromech that assisted Skywalker when
he destroyed the first Death Star?”

Threepio cocked his golden head slightly.

“Well, yes,” he said. “Artoo and I have been eyewitnesses to many momentous events during the Galactic Civil War, though he was usually off squabbling with a computer while I
was performing some vital diplomatic service. With regards to the Death Star, Artoo was inoperative at the critical moment. So not even
he can try to take credit for the outcome of that
mission.”

The datapad beeped, indicating the diagnostics program had finished running. Jessika ignored it.

“Tell me about the Death Star mission,” she said. “How did Skywalker wind up destroying it?”

“It would be my pleasure, Blue Three,” Threepio said. “Though that adventure began in rather dreadful fashion for me. We had crash-landed
on Tatooine, with Artoo pursuing a
secret mission for the Alliance in his typical stubborn manner. If not for my advice, he might still be wandering that dreadful Dune Sea—”

“On second thought, why don’t you tell me that one later?” Jessika asked hastily, sensing this version was shaping up to be mostly about Threepio. “Tell me a different
story about your master—one that hasn’t been told
a million times already.”

The R4 unit chirped inquiringly at her, and she patted its dome absentmindedly.

“Your programs are up to date—report to the droid pool,” she said, turning back to Threepio.

“There are so many stories,” Threepio mused. “Where to begin? I know—Artoo and I were present when Master Luke first used a lightsaber in battle, not long after the
Battle of Yavin.”

“Tell me about that one,” Jessika said.

“Very well,” Threepio said. “It all began above the planet Giju, with a mission for Red Squadron.…”