The Princess, the Scoundrel, and the Farm Boy Read online

  © & TM 2015 Lucasfilm Ltd.

  Interior art by Ralph McQuarrie and Joe Johnston

  Cover art by Khoa Ho

  Designed by Pamela Palacio and Jason Wojtowicz

  All rights reserved. Published by Disney • Lucasfilm Press, an imprint of Disney Book Group. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the publisher. For information address Disney • Lucasfilm Press, 1101 Flower Street, Glendale, California 91201.

  ISBN 978-1-4847-1225-2

  Visit the official Star Wars website: www.starwars.com

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Introduction

  The Princess Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  The Scoundrel Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  The Farm Boy Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Author Biography

  For Dad, who opened up a whole galaxy of wonder and possibility

  WHEN YOU MEET another Star Wars fan, the same question always comes up: when was the first time you watched the movies? I know exactly when it was for me: Father’s Day, 1992. Dad got to decide which movie we’d watch together as a family and, for some reason, decided to pull out an old VHS of A New Hope.

  I was five. I could not figure out what was happening and why everyone was running around. But I still remember, with perfect clarity, the first time I saw Darth Vader stride on board the Tantive IV, his cloak sweeping out behind him, music booming from our television speakers like thunder. I was terrified, but I was also in awe. The fights, the characters, the spaceships—it was like riding a roller coaster without ever leaving the couch.

  And once I had a seat on that ride, I never got off.

  See, my dad decided a year later that he wanted to start collecting the old toys, posters, and memorabilia from the ’70s and ’80s, from right when the films were released in theaters. Every weekend, the family would pile into our minivan and go to antique shows looking for old figurines, posters, even ceramic mugs of the characters’ heads. We went to every major Star Wars convention. At one point, Dad was on a first-name basis with half the employees at our local Toys “R” Us. It was our family project, something we did together. It was us.

  I was so wrapped up in that universe that from age ten to twelve, all I was interested in reading was Star Wars novels. Nothing else seemed to hold my attention. So you can imagine how excited I was (understatement of the millennium) to be asked to write an adaptation of A New Hope for young readers, to retell the classic story from a new angle. The Empire Strikes Back is full of dark stakes and juicy family drama, and Return of the Jedi brings everything full circle. But A New Hope is more than the film that launched me into a galaxy far, far away; it’s also the one that made me interested in storytelling in the first place. It was my first step into a much larger world.

  Star Wars so perfectly captures the classic hero’s journey. The moment I figured that out, it electrified the story and characters for me in a whole new way, and I had something to study and observe. As a budding teen writer, someone who mostly dabbled in cringe-worthy poetry, this was huge. In fact, I didn’t figure out how to write fiction, and that I even wanted to write my own original stories, until I tried my hand at writing Star Wars fan fiction (all of which is still online over a decade later, as I have tragically forgotten my password and can’t log on to the site to delete it).

  As a writer, what comes first and foremost for me is always the characters. This, too, is because of Star Wars and the emotional impact it had on a very impressionable five-year-old me. In A New Hope, we’re given a cast of characters who, at first glance, seem to be simple archetypes. The young hero. The rogue. The princess in need of saving. The sidekicks. The wise man. But the older I got, the more complex the characters’ motivations became to me—the more I understood how closely Star Wars is tied to the idea of family. Not just the Skywalkers but the family Luke, Leia, Han, and the others found in one another, coming from incredibly different backgrounds to work together toward a common goal: hope. In the end, they needed one another—and this struggle—to see exactly what they were made of. By zooming in on Leia’s, Han’s, and finally Luke’s perspective, I got to play with the idea of labels—princess, scoundrel, farm boy—and show that these three were so much more than what others, and even they themselves, believed they could be.

  I’m still stuck on the idea of family and the importance it plays not only in the scope of the story but in our community of fans around the world. This story binds us together, and it continues to be passed down from one generation to the next—kind of like a cultural heirloom. And in so many ways, Star Wars is the story of my family, too. That’s never changed, even since my dad lost his battle to cancer a few years ago. We are all connected to this universe, and watching the films or even just thinking about that first time our family watched A New Hope together is enough for us to feel close to my dad.

  And if that’s not the true power of the Force, then I don’t know what is.

  One final note: for this adaptation, I pulled directly from three sources: my imagination, George Lucas’ film script, and Brian Daley’s masterful 1981 radio drama script. My thanks to Lucasfilm for their permission to weave all of this material together and for the opportunity to bring my own vision of the classic story to life.

  ALEXANDRA BRACKEN

  THIS STORY BEGINS as so many do: a long, long time ago…in a place far beyond the glittering stars you see in your night sky.

  In the time of the Old Republic, hundreds of star systems lived together in peace and prosperity, protected by an ancient order of warriors, the Jedi. But a tide of darkness swept through the galaxy, as unstoppable as it was terrifying, wiping out even the most powerful fighters. Now an evil empire rules the stars, slowly extinguishing the last traces of light and hope in its crushing grip.

  Despite the odds, a spark of rebellion lives on. Having won their first victory against the Empire, the Rebels turn their attention to reports of a weapon powerful enough to destroy planets—and obliterate any last hope for freedom.

  But, as you well know, heroes emerge from the most unlikely places, at the most unexpected times. This is a story of destiny. Of being in the wrong place at the right time. Of courage. And, yes, of a force more powerful than imagination.

  But it is also the story of a princess, a scoundrel, and a farm boy. No, there’s so much more to them than that. Perhaps they will surprise you. Perhaps they will surprise themselves.

  Perhaps they are the heroes the galaxy has needed all along.

  LEIA WASN’T THE GIRL they thought she was.

  That girl might have seen this plan through successfully. The crew of the Tantive IV thought Senator Leia Organa would be able to get them untangled from the net she’d flown them straight into. But her plan had gone wrong—so, so wrong. There wasn’t any way out, any way to save them. She had let them down, and now there wa
s only one hope for completing her mission.

  Leia had never been inside the access corridors on the ship. They were meant for droids and technicians to get around without being trampled underfoot by the crew. Her heart thundered in time with her boots as she ran, and she was sure she’d never find the labor pool. The dull metal corridors and paths were lit by only a few crimson lights, and parts of it were so tight she barely managed to squeeze through without ripping her dress. Blast it—of every color under every sun, why had she chosen to wear white? She stood out in the darkness like a reactor core. An easy target.

  Was it really that much colder in there, or was her mind playing tricks again?

  A deafening blast roared through the silence, rattling the ship down to its metal bones. Leia gasped as she was thrown against a wall of circuits and pipes. The screams of blaster rifles and heavy marching steps thundered in her ears, muffling the screams and shouts of the men and women trying to hold off the invasion. They’d been boarded. And it sounded like the fight was raging right over her head.

  Leia ran harder, until her lungs burned. This is my fault, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. I told Father this was my mission. I just wanted him to be proud of me. She had only wanted to help the Rebellion. Why did the crew have to lose their lives to save others’?

  Her father hadn’t wanted her to accept the mission; she had seen it on his face as he told her, “I don’t doubt your capabilities, not even for a moment. Taking on all these responsibilities…they’ve shaped you into a glittering star. You are remarkable. But this is too dangerous, Leia.”

  Leia had fought to control her temper. A star. In other words, something beautiful. Something to be admired from a distance. The simpering princess her aunts had tried to force her to become her whole life. Someone who would ignore the calls of a rebellion desperate for help in stealing information.

  She loved them with her whole heart, even when she felt like flipping the table over during her aunts’ ruthless etiquette lessons and running away to join a galactic circus just so she wouldn’t have to hear another lesson about the differences between a soup spoon and a dessert spoon. One day, yes, she would be queen of Alderaan like her mother before her, but that day was far off and there was more to being a fair ruler than learning the correct way to wave to her people. Her aunts had fought both Leia and her father on her joining the Galactic Senate. They would rather have seen her in her chambers twirling her hair and daydreaming about which sniveling prince to marry than in a Senate box trying to bring about real change and reform.

  The press was even worse, claiming she was a “princess playing dress-up” and not a real diplomat and politician. They saw the image her aunts had crafted for her, not the person her father had trained her to become. No matter how many times she traveled the length of the galaxy to bring attention and aid to the suffering, still—still—the media refused to look past her label of “princess.” One time she’d been holding an orphaned baby Wookiee, walking through a village the Imperial forces had burned to embers and ash, and the first question she’d taken from the reporters from the Central Systems was, who designed the outfit you’re wearing?

  Not, why are we here? Not, what can the galaxy do to help?

  The only thing Leia had successfully managed to do in her time in the Senate was irritate the Emperor like a sunburn that refused to fade. She’d gone into the chamber ready to fight anyone who stood in her way, and what she’d seen there had surprised her more than knocking heads with an opponent would have: no one seemed to care. Or at least no one wanted to test the Emperor’s patience. She didn’t understand how anyone could sit still in the Senate knowing about the crimes being committed in the Outer Rim.

  Imperial interrogation camps. The execution of supposed traitors in cold blood. Whole cities destroyed in what Darth Vader called “purifications.” Apparently, planets needed to be purified of any ideas resembling democracy. Or hope.

  It made her sick. She could still smell the charred remains of buildings and lives. See the newly orphaned children lined up to be…what? Sold as labor to the highest bidder? Sent to the spice mines of Kessel? Every time Leia had tried to demand answers in the Senate chamber, she’d been reprimanded, silenced. She wanted to shout, shake them, force her colleagues to see what she saw. But they refused. Some told her to go back home, to enjoy palace life. Leia realized it didn’t matter what she said, or how loudly she shouted. No one was listening.

  So when Leia first learned of the Rebellion, she had all but jumped at the chance to be part of it—to be recognized for what she could do, not who she was. To actually help the galaxy. This was her chance to prove herself, and she thought her father would understand that, if nothing else.

  Stealing top-secret plans from the Empire was a risk, but being dismissed as a twinkling ball of gas had only made her more determined. The mission should have been simple. All they needed to do was intercept a transmission about a new battle station the Empire was rumored to be building.

  But the system had been swarming with Imperials. They’d caught on to Leia’s bogus tale about her ship’s breaking down, but the cover had helped her stall long enough to download the technical plans for something code-named “Death Star.” Despite the Rebels’ efforts to lose the Imperials in the jump to hyperspace, the hulking Star Destroyer had caught up to them. And Leia knew, the moment the ship identified itself as the Devastator, there would be no escape.

  It was Darth Vader’s ship.

  She ran harder, ducking through shadows and bursts of warm steam. Her hand tightened around the data card as she made a sharp turn. Then something silver caught her eye.

  A droid. An astromech droid, even. Thank the stars. Her plan actually had a chance of working.

  The droid looked like an R2 unit. Its squat cylindrical body was topped with a dome-shaped head and panels of rich blue. A single indicator glowed red, then blue as the droid rolled by.

  “Droid!” Leia called, tucking herself into a dark alcove. “Droid! Come here!”

  The head swiveled toward her, letting out a friendly, questioning chirp. The droid rolled toward her on three legs, and Leia knelt down so she was level with it.

  As much as she hated to admit it—and she hated it a lot—Leia was grateful her aunts had spent years drilling her on public speaking so that, as princess and someday queen, she could give speeches without embarrassing herself. She had to get the message right on the first try. There simply wasn’t time to redo it. Leia closed her eyes a moment, steadying herself with deep breaths the way her aunts had shown her.

  When she spoke, she was proud of how clear and careful the words were. “Artoo unit, I need to record the following holographic message. Do you have that programming, Artoo?”

  The droid beeped in reply. Good enough.

  Leia stood upright and stepped back. “Message begins…now.” She cleared her throat, taking the regal tone her aunts loved, the one she’d sharpened like a knife in the Senate. “General Kenobi, years ago you served my father in the Clone Wars. Now he begs you to help him in his struggles against the Empire. I regret that I am unable to present my father’s request to you in person, but my ship has fallen under attack and I’m afraid my mission to bring you to Alderaan has failed.”

  Admitting she failed made the words taste bitter in her mouth. Though she and the crew of the Tantive IV had downloaded the information and made the jump to Tatooine, she wouldn’t be able to complete the second part of the mission. Her father had requested that she seek out an old friend, one General Kenobi, because, in his own words, “a war demanded warriors” to fight. A legendary Jedi Knight, Kenobi had gone into secret exile on the remote desert planet to avoid the deadly purge that had wiped out his order.

  Leia pressed on. “I have placed information vital to the survival of the Rebellion into the memory system of this Artoo unit. My father will know how to retrieve it. You must see this droid safely to Alderaan. This is our most desperate hour. Help me, Obi-Wan Kenobi. Yo
u’re my only hope.”

  Leia paused, wishing she felt more relieved than she did at having completed the message. But it was only the first step of one last, desperate mission, and she hated placing such valuable intelligence in the hands of a droid that didn’t even possess hands.

  “End of message. Now, here comes the truly difficult part. Artoo, I need you to deliver that message, along with the information I am about to upload to a man named Obi-Wan Kenobi. He resides on the planet beneath us, away from civilization. You’ll need to search for him and him alone.”

  The droid rocked side to side on its back two legs, beeping in acknowledgment.

  “Artoo? Artoo-Detoo! Where are you?”

  Leia spun, looking for the source of the voice. She squinted, just barely making out the gold humanoid form of a protocol droid.

  “Artoo!”

  It was only then that Leia realized how quiet it had become. The firing and shouting had stopped, and some terrible part of her suspected it was because there was no one left from the Tantive IV to keep fighting. The crew’s battle was over.

  Hers was only beginning.

  Leia’s hands flew over the droid, inserting the data card. “Now you need a way off this ship…there should be at least one escape pod left for you to use. Do you follow?”

  The R2 unit whistled another affirmative. Leia placed her hand on its smooth, round head and closed her eyes. Please let this work….

  “Good luck, safe travels.”

  The image of the planet below them floated to the front of her mind. Tatooine’s endless sand dunes gave it a beautiful warm glow, like an eternal sunrise. She could see it now, as the droid rolled away, how he would struggle to navigate with the sand in his gears. But he could do it. She squeezed her hands into fists at her sides, pushing down the fear. Leia had faith.