So You Want to Be a Jedi?

by Adam Gidwitz

  You stare.

  He has disappeared into the gloom. The room has holes in it, it turns out, holes that disappear into a great black mess of pipes. They must lead, you figure, to the central reactor of the mining colony. You switch off your lightsaber, hook it to your belt, and take a long, slow breath.

  Then you follow Vader into the darkness.

  You are walking through a tunnel. You see nothing, but you can feel the shape of the space—the Force taking the form of a tube, you walking through it. Vader is not here. You press on.

  You emerge into a cluttered, dark corridor. Large windows, giving out onto the central reactor core, shed a very dim light. You reach out with your senses. Vader is here, but he is avoiding you. Muddying the Force around you. A pang of fear slaps your heart. He is stronger than you are.

  And that’s when it hits you. Like a barn being thrown by a sandstorm, right into your body. You fall, then rise again, throbbing with pain. A giant piece of machinery has clattered to the floor beside you.

  You turn to look where it came from—and another crashes into your head. You are on your knees. You raise your lightsaber to protect yourself, but the metal objects are coming too fast. Vader is detaching them from walls, lifting them from the floor, and hurling them at you. You can’t see them, you can’t sense them—Vader has muddied the Force too much. You are bleeding. You are reeling.

  You are losing.

  And that’s when the biggest one hits you, and you are flying through one of the large windows, glass shattering around you like rain in a storm.

  Into the reactor shaft.

  There is nothing below you. Nothing for half a kilometer or more.

  Time has slowed, which is not necessarily good, because it is merely giving you time to realize that you are falling to your death. Vader has killed you.

  And then, as you fall, you realize that there is a gantry platform—a long, thin, steel catwalk—very near you.

  You inhale a long, silvery breath.

  You reach out.

  You are falling, but your hand touches steel. You grab the steel. Your body snaps like a fish at the end of a line.

  But your hand is still gripping the steel.

  Below you, the reactor core descends into oblivion.

  Wind is whipping at your face, you smell your own sweat, and your legs are swinging over the abyss. You kick at the air, but cannot raise yourself to the platform.

  Fear is overpowering you now. You look down, and back up. Vader has appeared at the end of the gantry. Towering, enormous, dark. He is walking toward you. His steps echo like the ticking of an enormous clock.

  You manage to pull yourself up onto the gantry. You climb to your feet, which takes no less effort than climbing a mountain.

  You ignite your sword. One last stand, you tell yourself. You can beat him.

  You try to feel calm.

  But you are merely trying. So you do not feel calm. Not at all.

  Maybe you should listen to Vader. Maybe you should let your anger out. Give in to it.

  But you can’t even do that. All you feel is fear.

  His footsteps on the metal are an enormous clock that is ticking down the seconds to the end of the world. He strides toward you. Dark. Steady. Familiar.

  Without warning, you leap at him, your feet leaving the ground entirely, your lightsaber leading like a lance.

  He parries.

  You land on your feet and instantly thrust.

  You smell flesh being burnt. Gas is hissing somewhere.

  You stare. Vader stops and looks down.

  You have hit him. On the right arm.

  You have wounded him.

  You feel surprised. Triumphant. You are a great warrior. You have done the impossible.

  You have wounded Darth Vader.

  You are a Jedi. You have become a Jed—

  His sword blazes through the air and cuts your right hand from your arm.

  The pain is blinding. But it is instantly eclipsed by your fear. For as you watch the most surreal sight you have ever seen—your own hand tumbling away from you into the reactor core—you see, tumbling with it, your lightsaber.

  And now the pain and the fear are one. And they are greater than you. Much greater.

  You scramble away from Vader, toward the opposite end of the platform. His voice is calm, knowing. “There is no escape, Luke.”

  Frantically, you scramble farther away. Suddenly, your legs slip off the thin, crosshatched metal of the gantry. Your stomach hits the platform, knocking the wind from you. You cannot breathe. You are dangling over the abyss again. The wind is rushing by you, pulling you down. You are trying to breathe.

  Vader steadily, slowly, advances. “It is useless to resist.”

  Your one hand is coated with sweat. It is slick, the steel rod is slipping from your grip. Your other arm, sealed with black, burnt flesh, waves out over nothingness. Your breath has returned. It is like little silver-fish, darting away from a shark.

  “Don’t let yourself be destroyed, as Obi-Wan did.” Vader’s black helm shimmers in the dim light of the reactor core. His cape sways softly, like silk, with each step he takes. “Do not believe the Jedi lies. There is no life after death. There is only death.” Behind his mask, he is smiling. He must be.

  You are tired. So tired. Vader is no more than a meter away. You try to inch farther from him, but there is nowhere to go. The reactor core yawns below you.

  Suddenly, Vader’s voice sounds softer. “Don’t make me destroy you, Luke. You don’t understand your importance. You have only begun to realize your power.”

  Your hand is slipping. Fear has taken complete possession of you. There is nothing left inside you but fear.

  “If only you knew the power of the dark side,” Vader says, and looking up at his black mask, his shining eyes, you believe him. He has defeated you. Utterly.

  Where is Ben? you think. Why is no one helping me?

  “Join me,” Vader says, “and I will complete your training. With our combined strength, we can end this horrible war. We can bring order to the galaxy.”

  With one last gasp of strength, you shout, “I’ll never join you!” But your voice sounds weak in your ears. Like a petulant child’s.

  “Join me, Luke Skywalker.”

  You are trying not to listen to him. Where is Ben? Why is no one on your side?

  “Obi-Wan never told you what became of your father.”

  Your father. Where is he? Rage rises in your chest. “Ben told me enough!” you scream. “He told me you killed him!”

  And then, there is a sudden silence in the chamber.

  And you feel something.

  Something you have felt before.

  You try not to, but there it is.

  You attempt to hide from it. You don’t want to know.

  But Vader will not let you hide.

  “No,” says Vader.

  He will tell you.

  “I am your father.”

  Silence.

  “No,” you say. And then you scream it. “No! That’s not true! It’s not…”

  But you’re not arguing with Vader. You are arguing with yourself.

  “Search your feelings,” he says. “You know it to be true.”

  Panic is taking over. You cannot see. You cannot feel the Force. You are screaming.

  “Luke, you can destroy the Emperor. He has, in fact, foreseen this. It is your destiny. Join me, and together we can rule the galaxy—as father and son.”

  You fall quiet. You open your eyes. Vader has reached out his hand to you.

  “Come with me. It is the only way.”

  And suddenly, you are calm. As if a great wave had towered over you, and broken, and you were tossed within it. But it has calmed, been pulled out to sea. And you are left, standing on the sand.

  You want to be with your father. More than anything in the universe, this is what you want. It is what you’ve always wanted.

  But Vader is not your father. Not
anymore.

  You let go of the platform and fall into the abyss.

  Leia, Lando, R2-D2, and Chewbacca—with C-3PO still fastened to his back—emerge onto the landing platform. The Millennium Falcon awaits, framed by the lurid, candy-colored sky. Sweet gases perfume the air.

  “She should be ready to go,” Lando says, gazing at his old ship.

  Suddenly, blaster fire erupts behind them.

  “Go!” he shouts. “I’ll cover you!” But Leia has already crouched beside him, and together they return the stormtroopers’ fire with a ferocious volley of their own.

  Chewie sprints for the ship, activates the gangway, and then runs up it, C-3PO still buckled to his big, hairy back.

  “Ow!” C-3PO shouts, his head slamming into the doorframe. “Ow again! Bend down, you oversized toupee!”

  Chewie bends over, gets inside, and makes his way into the cockpit, with R2 following close behind. Leia and Lando let loose one more fiery round, pinning the stormtroopers back behind the platform doors.

  “Come on!” Leia shouts. They disappear up the gangway, and before the stormtroopers can get off another shot, the Falcon is sky-bound.

  You fall, and fall, and fall. Then you hit the wall of the reactor core. A garbage shoot opens, meant to keep the core clear of detritus. You are sucked in. Barely conscious, you slide through a long chute. Then the chute drops away. You are falling again, and the presence of Vader—of your father, your former father—is fading. You are moving very fast. And now the air is suddenly cold and faintly sweet, and the light is pink and yellow and orange like sunset. Without thinking, you reach out and grab on to a metal rod. It bends—and holds.

  You are no longer falling. You wrap your legs around the rod and close your eyes.

  Below you, a thousand, thousand meters of gas go floating by. Below that, the boiling surface of Bespin bubbles at a steady six thousand degrees.

  You hold on to the metal rod and try not to pass out.

  The Falcon is speeding into the upper atmosphere. The pink of the sky is fading to navy. Ahead of the ship, there is black, with stars winking welcomingly. And out there, somewhere, is Han.

  Your legs are shaking uncontrollably. Your one hand is gripping the cold steel of the metal rod—a weather vane. But your hand is sweaty, and you are losing your grip. Wind is whipping your face, rocking the flimsy metal vane back and forth. You are framed by the vast expanse of pink Bespin sky. You glance down again.

  To fall is to die, for certain.

  You try to summon the Force—to accomplish what, you don’t even know—but you are spent. Your whole body trembles. There’s nothing left. You cannot feel the Force. You can’t even feel your feet, as they slide farther and farther down the weather vane.

  “Ben!” you scream. “Ben!” It’s like calling for your father. The one who acted like your father. Who protected you when you needed protecting, who taught you when you needed guidance. “BEN!”

  But he does not answer. You are alone.

  And then, as your single hand begins to lose its grip, you feel something. No. Someone. Another being who is strong with the Force. You feel this person shining through the field of the Force, like a candle in a dark room. And it is close to you.

  She is close to you.

  “Leia…?” you mutter. How did you never feel it before? “Leia…”

  And then you hear, Luke…

  LESSON PSI:

  A LONG-DISTANCE CALL

  The Force is reality. Everything, from electrons to planets, is made up of the Force.

  This is why, if you understand it, and have trained yourself, you can sense what you cannot see, you can move what you cannot touch, you can speak with those you cannot hear.

  Do that now.

  Close your eyes. Meditate for a little while. Then, think of someone who is not nearby. Someone who is in another room, or another country, or maybe not a part of this world anymore. Reach out to him or her with your mind. Let your thoughts trace their way through the Force—around the doorframe, over the ocean, past the gateway of life—to wherever this person is. Put yourself beside this person. Speak to her. Smile at him. Put your hand in hers.

  If you are one with the Force, he will hear you.

  Really, she is not far away.

  CHEWBACCA IS STEERING the Falcon, Lando is monitoring readouts, and Leia is in the copilot’s chair. She is staring straight ahead, but she is not seeing. Nor hearing. She is feeling. Feeling your voice.

  Leia…you think.

  “Luke…” she whispers.

  Suddenly, Leia spins to Lando. “We have to go back!”

  “Back?” he exclaims.

  “Araraagh?!” agrees Chewie.

  “Luke needs us. I can…I can sense it.”

  “Princess,” Lando begins, “Vader is back there, and—”

  “Luke needs us!”

  “But—”

  A deep growl emanates from Chewbacca. Both Leia and Lando look at him. He has already begun to turn the ship around.

  “Leia…” you call. “Leia…”

  The pink and orange sky is going black. Not because night is falling. Because you can’t see. Your hand is too wet to hold on. Your legs have given up.

  And then, there it is, zooming through the atmosphere. The Falcon.

  You almost let go right then, with relief, with exhaustion.

  But you wait.

  The ship is under you. The top hatch opens. The dashing man from the mining colony is there, with Chewie. And Leia.

  You let go.

  On the bridge of the Star Destroyer orbiting the planet of Bespin, Darth Vader watches the monitoring screen. A small, disklike spaceship emerges from the planet’s pastel-colored ozone and enters space.

  “The Falcon is in range, Lord Vader,” Admiral Piett announces.

  “And you’ve disabled the hyperdrive?”

  “Yes, my lord. As you instructed.”

  “Good.”

  “Okay!” Lando shouts, as Bespin fades behind them. “Now let’s get out of here!”

  He has deposited you on a bed in the medical bay. You are, for the time being, useless.

  Chewbacca is flipping switches all over the cockpit. Leia is staring through the windscreen at the lurking Star Destroyer.

  “Ready, Chewie?”

  Chewbacca roars.

  “Okay…” Lando says. “Punch it!”

  Chewbacca pulls down on the hyperdrive lever and—nothing.

  Leia throws up her hands. “This ship!”

  “They fixed it!” Lando cries. “They told me they fixed it! It’s not my fault!”

  On the Imperial Star Destroyer, Vader turns to the admiral. “Prepare your troops to board. Set your weapons to stun.”

  “Very good, my lord.”

  Chewbacca and Lando run through the ship, checking valves and adjusting meters.

  “What is it? What’s gone wrong?” Lando shouts. Chewbacca howls in frustration.

  In the medical bay, your eyes are closed, your body limp. The pain in your right arm is a dull, steady throb. You are barely conscious.

  And then you hear a voice. Deep and resonant and almost…almost pleading.

  “Luke.”

  Your eyes open. Your skin tingles.

  “Father,” you say.

  “Son, come with me.”

  You are fighting back tears.

  “Son…”

  The word you’ve always longed to hear. At last. At last.

  “Son…” Vader whispers. And you can tell—he means it.

  In another part of the ship, R2-D2 is welding C-3PO’s legs back on to his torso. “Beep beep beep beep boop beep.”

  C-3PO is not pleased. “Well, I know I’ve looked better! What do you expect?”

  “Beep beep beep boop boop beep.”

  “What do you mean you know why we’re not going to hyperspace?”

  “Beep boop boop beep.” R2 finishes connecting the right leg and starts on the left.

  �
��The computer on Bespin told you? You know you can’t trust strange computers! And who knows what kind of diseases you have now! You should be wearing gloves while you’re working on me!”

  Chewbacca runs by, howling, banging a wrench against random control boards.

  Suddenly, R2 leaves C-3PO lying on the floor, partially reassembled, and rolls over to a nearby port. He inserts his communicator.

  “What are you doing?” C-3PO cries. “Come back here and put my other leg on this instant! What do you know about fixing hyperdrives? I’m lying here in pieces, and you’re having delusions of grandeur!”

  In the cockpit, Lando and Leia watch helplessly as they are pulled into the belly of the enormous Star Destroyer. Chewbacca roars and bangs on some more panels.

  And then, the stars start to stretch, as if they’re being pulled apart from each end. Lando’s and Leia’s eyes go wide. Chewbacca howls.

  Suddenly, they are all flying across the cockpit.

  R2-D2 slides wildly back over the floor.

  And C-3PO is shouting, “You did it! Oh, Artoo! You did it! You did it!”

  In the Star Destroyer, Darth Vader sees the Millennium Falcon suddenly disappear into infinity.

  He turns away from the monitor.

  Admiral Piett loosens his collar and begins, unconsciously, to massage his throat.

  But the Dark Lord takes one final glance at empty space and then—he turns away, his head bowed. Not in anger.

  In sadness.

  LESSON OMEGA:

  THE FINAL TEST

  Okay, my young pupil. This is it. My last lesson for you.

  So far, you have done well. Very well.

  But tests are not passed in a moment. Succeeding once is no success at all.

  So tomorrow, take a minute before you go to school or work or wherever you go, and meditate. Just for one minute. Breathe.

  Then, when you’re at school or work or wherever, and you see your classmates or colleagues, think about how they, too, are a part of the Force. They are swarms of particles, nearly identical to you, just separated by a less-densely occupied part of the Force.