商业托福阅读：星球大战第四章(1)
Luke’s Aunt Beru was filling a pitcher with blue liquid from a refrigerated container.Behind her, in the dining area, a steady buzz of conversation reached to the kitchen.
She sighed sadly. The mealtime discussions between her husband and Luke had grown steadily more acrimonious as the boy’s restlessness pulled him in directions other than farming. Directions for which Owen, a stolid man of the soil if there ever was one, had absolutely no sympathy.
Returning the bulk container to the refrigerator unit, she placed the pitcher on a tray and hurried back to the dining room. Beru was not a brilliant woman, but she possessed an instinctive understanding of her important position in this household.
She functioned like the damping rods in a nuclear reactor. As long as she was present, Owen and Luke would continue to generate a lot of heat, but if she was out of their presence for too long—boom! Condenser units built into the bottom of each plate kept the food on the dining- room table hot as she hurried in. immediately, both men lowered their voices to something civilized and shifted the subject. Beru pretended not to notice the change.
"I think that Artoo unit might have been stolen, Uncle Owen," Luke was saying, as if that had been the topic of conversation all along.
His uncle helped himself to the milk pitcher, mumbling his reply around a mouthful of food. "The jawas have a tendency to pick up anything that’s not tied down, Luke, but remember, they’re basically afraid of their own shadows. To resort to outright theft, they’d have to have considered the consequences of being pursued and punished. Theoretically, their minds shouldn’t be capable of that. What makes you think the ’droid is stolen?" "For one thing, it’s in awfully good shape for a discard. It generated a hologram recording while I was cleaning—" Luke tried to conceal his horror at the slip. He added hastily. "But that’s not important. The reason I think it might be stolen is because it claims to be the property of someone it calls Obi-wan Kenobi." Maybe something in the food, or perhaps the milk, caused Luke’s uncle to gag.
Then again, it might have been an expression of disgust, which was Owen’s way of indicating his opinion of that peculiar personage. In any case, he continued eating without looking up at his nephew.
Luke pretended the display of graphic dislike had never happened. "I thought," he continued determinedly, "it might have meant old Ben. The first name is different, but the last is identical." When his uncle steadfastly maintained his silence, Luke prompted him directly.
"Do you know who he’s talking about, Uncle Owen?" Surprisingly, his uncle looked uncomfortable instead of angry. "It’s nothing," he mumbled, still not meeting Luke’s gaze. "A name from another time." He squirmed nervously in his seat. "A name that can only mean trouble." Luke refused to heed the implied warning and pressed on. "Is it someone related to old Ben, then? I didn’t know he had any relatives." "You stay away from that old wizard, he hear me!" his uncle exploded, awkwardly substituting threat for reason.
"Owen…" Aunt Beru started to interject gently, but the big farmer cut her off sternly.
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