The Summer Strikes Back, Part 4

The two weeks following the 4^th of July weekend and their arrival passed in a blur for Luke. He didn't see much of Leia after their working hours ended. They'd help Uncle Ben around the cottages, painting fences, mowing lawns, cleaning the empty units after tourists moved out, or babysitting younger kids for working parents.

In the afternoons after lunch, Leia would disappear downtown to the city hall or into the cottage to work on her essay for her internship, and Luke would grab his surfboard and head to the beach. Uncle Ben more often than not came with him. Luke had been surfing every summer since he was 13, but he wasn't a pro at it, like some of the guys who lived here all their lives. It was a great experience. Just being out there, catching the perfect A-Frame, like you were flying...

Trouble was, he was more likely to end up face-first in the water, as Leia often teased him. She didn't understand his interest. Sure, she liked the beach and was actually a pretty good surfer, but she never seemed to consider it to be a near-religious experience. For Luke, the beach was life. It was spiritual, really.

It was two weeks after arriving that Ben lead him to the grimy, vine-covered shed in the back of his cottage. “I think you're ready to practice with a heavier board.” Luke's nose was assaulted with layers of dust and dirt the moment Ben opened the door. “Your brother Adam wanted you and your sister to have this when you were old enough, but your uncle wouldn't allow it. I'm afraid he's not much for the beach. He was afraid you'd drop school for some damn foolish surfing tournament, like Adam did.”

Luke's eyes widened at the selection. Most of them were at least twenty or thirty years old. He dragged his fingers down one wooden board. It was green with a yellow stripe down the center. Probably dated to the early 60's, maybe even before. “Wow. Where did you get all of these?”

“Oh, here and there. Various surf stores and sports shops. South End Sports on Texas Avenue has a rather nice selection.” He pulled one board down from the rack. “This was Adam's board. He called it Twilight. He built it himself. It was his pride and joy.”

“Holy crud,” Luke gasped. “It's beautiful.” It was the brightest blue Luke had ever seen. There was some kind of spiral design, like an atom, in the center. “And she's a custom?”

“All the way. Adam won three major surfing contests with that board.” Ben took down a lighter blue board for himself. “He was convinced she was lucky.”

Luke ran his fingers down the board. “Look at that workmanship.” His blue eyes gazed up to Ben's. “How did Adam die? Uncle Owen says he was killed in a hold-up after he came back from Vietnam.”

Ben didn't face him. “Your uncle was right, sort of. The Imperial Gang started in the late 60's, early 70's. They weren't much of a threat at first, until they began to directly challenge the Jedi Knights. There were gang wars, rumbles. Some of them were brutal. Many of the Jedi died in that conflict. Vader killed a number of them himself.”

The younger man bit his lip, his cheeks flushing. “Vader. The bully on the beach.”

“Yes.” His uncle nodded. “Vader was among those responsible for your brother's death.”

Luke gathered the blue surfboard under his arm. “I want to go to the beach,” he said quietly. “I want to learn everything the Jedi knew. I'm going to be as great of a surfer as Adam was someday.”

Ben took down the yellow and green surfboard. “You can't do that until you're in the water, of course.”

It was a glorious day for surfing. The sky was blue, the sun was shining, and rare for the Shore, the air was dry. “You have to connect with the water,” Ben was saying as they paddled out. “It's like a force, and energy field. It binds you, penetrates you. It flows around you.”

“You mean it controls your actions?” Luke looked up as the wind blew southwards, ruffling his sandy locks.

“Partially. The water and the boards take on a life of their own. You move with them, not against them.”

Luke stood up on the board as the first wave of the day came closer. He set up his stance, concentrating. For a moment, he was one with the wave...before the blue board went out from under him. He hit the water hard, pulling seaweed off his hair.

Laughter erupted a foot or two behind them. “Nice flop there, kid.” Hank Solokowski stood on the deck of The Millennium Falcon, pulling up crab traps. “You're really graceful.”

Charlie nudged Hank. “I'd like to see you try it, mate! You ain't what I'd call graceful yourself.”

“I ain't that crazy.” Hank shook his head. “If I'm gonna be on the water, I want a lot more between my legs than a thin piece of plywood. Surfboards ain't no match for a good boat.”

“I imagine you've had a lot of things between your legs.” Luke glared at him as he got back on his board.

Hank smirked as he loaded crabs into a bucket. “Jealous, Junior?”

“Don't mind him, Luke.” Ben held onto his ankles as he stood again. “Remember, to really be one with the water, you have to feel the force of it flowing through you. Stretch out with your feelings.”

This time, Luke manage to get almost to the shore on a half-barrel before he wiped out again. When he came up, his smile could have lit the entire Boardwalk. “For a moment, it was like...I could almost feel the wave. Like it was a part of me.”

Hank snorted. “Sounds like luck to me, kid.”

Ben got on his own board. “In my experience, there's no such thing as luck.”

Luke was paddling towards the fishing boat, making sure to watch out for the nets and traps along either side. “You don't believe in religion, do you, Hank?”

Hank shrugged. “Kid, I've been from one side of this country to the other. I've seen a lot of strange stuff. But I've never seen anything to make me believe there's some mystical force controllin' everything. It's just a lot of simple fairy tale junk.”

“Well, I believe it.” Luke looked up at him. “Sometimes, you need something to believe.”

“I have something to believe in.” The tall fisherman loaded his silvery, wiggling catch into a wax-coated brown box filled with ice. “It's called money. If I don't pay off Jasper Hutt, I'm a dead man.”

Ben paddled over on a smaller wave. “Why don't we relax and take our minds off this? I haven't been on the Boardwalk yet this summer. A walk would clear our heads.”

“Awesome!” Luke grinned. “Could the guys come, if they're not working?”

“Why not?” He looked up at the Falcon. “What about you, Solokowski? Would you like to join us?”

“Sure.” Charlie joined Hank as they pulled up another net. “Just let us get these to Ackbar before the old guy drops his false teeth or somethin'.”

“I ain't been to an amusement pier since the last time me family was in Brighton.” Charlie easily carried four crab traps under his arms. “Might be fun, at that.”

Ben nodded. “We'll meet you at the entrance to Maz's Marine Adventure Pier at 7 O'Clock.”

Hank watched as the two headed for the shore. “Nice kid, ain't he?” Charlie asked. “I like the old man, too. Rent's cheap, an' he fixes most things.”

“Don't get too attached.” Hank shook his head. “We're not going to be here much longer.” Despite his words, his eyes followed the boy and the old man as they paddled to the shore. “Yeah. Soon, we're gonna be headin' down to Mexico. Tequila all day, lots of good fishing, and no Hutts.”

Charlie pulled at the last of the net. “You sure that's really what you want?”

“Yeah, I'm sure.” Even as he said it, Hank's eyes were watching the duo dragging their boards to the shore.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Leia spent her afternoon with the crew of the Ghost. Hera told her that she and the others had seen unusual activity on Organa Island, the tiny private islet that once housed the Alderaan Manor Hotel and Country Club. The club had closed after the previous summer and was considered abandoned until it was purchased by Empire Industries.

Hera handed her a set of heavy, slightly rusted binoculars. “See for yourself. Something is going on over there.”

She turned the nob; the island came into view, slowly at first, then closer. Alderaan Manor Hotel was a Victorian dream of a dwelling. It looked like something out of one of her fairy tale books. Creamy yellow and deep green spires rose into the air, capped sharply by brown slatted peaks. It was surprisingly busy for a business that had been closed for several years. Men in black and red jumpsuits, leading rottweilers on chain leashes, strolled back and forth. A thick chain link fence blocked off any other possible views.

Zeb joined them with binoculars of his own. “Take a look at what else the bloody cat dragged in, mate. I wonder what those jerks are doin' at such a classy place?”

Leia swiveled her binoculars to follow his. A green and red boat roared up to one of the three docks...a familiar one. She turned the lenses to focus on the green-clad driver. “I know that boat. I saw it a couple weeks ago, on the day I first got here.” A smaller man with a shriveled head and thin silvery hair was the first to step off. “I know him, too. That's Tarkin, the lawyer who tried to buy the Cottages off Uncle Ben.”

Kanan looked pretty ticked off as he joined them from the wheelhouse. “The guy in green is Bobby Fett. Local asshole-for-hire. I've had a couple of run-ins with him. You need to find someone who's behind on their alimony payments or screwing your wife, he's your man.”

She recognized the men climbing off the boat. They all wore black and white leather. One had a black motorcycle helmet. “Vader and the Imperial Gang. Why would someone want them here?”

“I'll take us closer in. Maybe it's time we got a look at this place.” Kanan rushed back to the wheelhouse.

They didn't get far. The moment they got within a half a mile of the shore, the sound of gunshots exploded across the bay.

Hera's eyes widened. “Shit!” Everyone dropped to the wooden deck. The woman captain scooted over to the rectangle the anchor was lowered through and peeped into it. “They've got guns out there! Big ones! Like World War II-movie-big.”

Leia wrinkled her nose as it was assaulted with the pungent scent of old rubber boots, salt, and six different types of fish and crab. “They've got to be hiding something. What would Empire Industries want with a motorcycle gang? I can understand Tarkin, but why Bobby Fett and the Imperials?”

“We'll have to come back tomorrow.” Hera called over her shoulder. “You boys ok?”

“Peachy.” Zeb was wedged between a coil of rope and a crab trap with several agitated specimens. “This damn movin' nutcracker just tried to take off a piece of me nose, that's all.”

“I'm fine.” A mostly white rag fluttered on a ruler in the guardhouse. “I surrender to the Nazis, or the Communists, or whomever is trying to kill us today.”

Hera rolled her eyes as she got to her feet. “Kanan, quit being cute and turn us around.”

Leia accepted Zeb's hand as he almost lifted her bodily back onto the deck. “I don't get it.” Zeb rubbed his now very red nose. “We're at a bloody seaside resort, not the Middle East, so what's with the army an' the crackers motorcyclists?”

“We'll find out.” Leia nodded. “I can feel it.”