My Sweet Rose painting

unmechanically. Spotting the small disk sealed onto Artoo's side, Threepioturned his gaze thoughtfully down to his own chest, where a similar device hadlikewise been attached. Massive gears, poorly lubricated, started to move. With a groaning andgrinding, the monster sandcrawler turned and lumbered with relentless patience intothe desert night.
"I'll be at the Academy the season after," Luke insisted, more to encouragehimself than Biggs. "After that, who knows where I'll end up?" He soundeddetermined. "I won't be drafted into the starfleet, that's for sure. Tale care ofyourself. You'll…always be the best friend I've got." There was no need for ahandshake. These two had long since passed beyond that. "So long, then, Luke," Biggs said simply. He turned and reentered the powerstation.
Gaping at Biggs, Luke could only gulp, "Know what? What are you talkingabout?" "I'm talking about the talking that's been going on at the Academy—and otherplaces, Luke. Strong talking. I made some new friends, outsystem friends. Weagreed about the way certain things are developing, and—" his voice droppedconspiratorially—"When we reach one of the peripheral systems, we're going to jumpship and join the Alliance." Luke stared back at his friend, tried to picture Biggs—fun-loving, happy-go-lucky, live-for-today Biggs—as patriot afire with rebellious fervor. "You're going to join the rebellion?" he started. "You've got to be kidding.How?"