Janek was a black-haired, brown-eyed giant, even as a child.
His nickname, Tank, suited him perfectly.
One day, he would escape Tatooine, enlist in the Imperial Army, rise to the rank of lieutenant, and eventually die after becoming entangled with Skywalker and Organa while serving as an Imperial spy within the Rebel Alliance.
From my perspective, he was excellent investment material.
Keep him away from the wrong influences, guide him onto the right path, and perhaps I could gain myself a loyal lieutenant.
The key would be proper motivation, reinforced with a carefully measured amount of persuasion.
Biggs Darklighter, meanwhile, was the wealthiest member of our little gang.
The son of a prosperous moisture farmer, he possessed an alarming appetite for speed and danger.
Despite his age, his father already trusted him to race around Anchorhead in his personal XP-38 landspeeder.
Naturally, the rest of us shamelessly took advantage of that privilege whenever the opportunity presented itself.
On one particularly memorable outing, we accidentally ran over a Jawa.
Fatally.
The body disappeared surprisingly quickly.
A little Force-assisted misdirection, some decisive leadership on my part, and the unfortunate scavenger found his final resting place inside a nearby sarlacc before anyone had the chance to start asking inconvenient questions.
The incident strengthened the bond between our trio considerably.
It also elevated Luke’s authority to almost mythical status among the other boys.
The hierarchy had been established.
The subtle emotional suggestions probably were not hurting matters, either.
Our little circle gradually expanded.
Laze “Fixer” Loneozner possessed remarkable mechanical talent and shared our obsession with racing.
Camie Marstrap was the daughter of Owen’s primary customer, the man who purchased most of the Lars family’s water production.
Then there were the brothers, Wendy and Dee, along with their cousin Windom Marstrap.
They were followers by nature.
They had no grand ambitions, no burning desire to leave Tatooine.
At least, not yet.
They simply had no idea what destiny, and the Force in the form of Luke Skywalker, had planned for them.
I wonder if Galen Marek exists in this universe.
The thought crossed my mind with uncomfortable frequency.
If he did, then in only seven years the future Starkiller would begin hunting down the surviving Jedi who might otherwise prove useful in removing Palpatine.
At the very least, they could provide proper instruction.
A few crash courses from Obi-Wan and Yoda hardly seemed like an ideal education.
As things stood, I was still an awful combatant.
A Force ghost could teach many things.
Lightsaber combat was not one of them.
That meant I would eventually need another solution.
Another teacher.
Another path.
Those thoughts occupied my mind as I sat atop one of the moisture farm’s aboveground structures, watching the twin suns sink slowly toward the horizon.
Without warning, Qui-Gon Jinn appeared behind me.
“The darkness is gathering,” he said without preamble.
“You will need to learn to fight sooner than expected.
The Sith grow more numerous.
Stronger.
Closer.
Soon, they will be here.” The news was both unexpected and deeply unsettling.
Evaluating my abilities honestly, my only practical combat skills amounted to throwing Force-enhanced sharp objects and concealing my presence within the Force.
The latter was the technique Qui-Gon had used to explain the disturbance that once sent Obi-Wan racing toward the Lars homestead.
My version of it was crude, inefficient, and nowhere near the refined technique practiced by trained Jedi.
But it worked.
Someone searching through the Force might overlook me.
The problem was that if they already knew where to look, both the Lars family and I were dead.
For now, all I could do was trust Obi-Wan.
I desperately searched my memory for any major Sith-related events that could occur ten years before the Battle of Yavin.
Nothing came to mind.
Had I really altered the timeline that much simply by talking to a Force ghost and befriending a handful of children on Tatooine?
“What should I do, Master?” A chill crept down my spine.
“And could you tell me more about the Sith?
Why would they want to kill me?” Qui-Gon’s expression hardened.
“Learn,” he said quietly.
“Learn quickly.
Grow quickly.
You already know how to throw metal objects.
Against ordinary soldiers, that may be enough.” The Force ghost stepped closer, his translucent form shimmering in the fading light.
“It is time for you to learn how to attack with the Force itself.” He raised a ghostly hand.
“To create a Force Push, you must stop focusing on the object.
Stop imagining air gathering before the target.
Work directly with the Force itself…”