Splinter of the Mind's Eye: Star Wars

by Alan Dean Foster

  “Because,” Halla returned triumphantly. “I have proof!” Reaching into her suit top, she extricated a packet of insulating material and unrolled it on the table. It contained a tiny metal box. Using the nail of her right-hand little finger she turned the miniature combination lock several times. With an infinitesimal pop the tiny lid flipped open.

  Luke peered close for a good look. The Princess did the same.

  What they saw was a splinter of something that looked like red glass and glowed softly. The color was deeper, richer than red corundum. It had a vitreous luster resembling crystalized honey.

  “Well,” Halla asked them after a long moment, “now are you convinced I’m telling the truth?”

  Still skeptical, the Princess sat back and looked askance at Halla. “A small fragment of radiant glass or plastic, or an ordinary silicate treated to glow. You expect me to accept that as proof?”

  “This is a piece of the Kaiburr crystal itself!” Halla insisted, offended by her disbelief.

  “Sure it is,” the Princess agreed, nodding. “Where did you get it?”

  “From a greenie, in exchange for a bottle of tipples.”

  Leia gave her a strained look. “So you’re trying to tell us that one of the primitive, superstitious locals would part with a shard of some half-legendary gem, from one of his own temples, for a lousy bottle of liquor?”

  “It wasn’t his ancestors’ temple or god,” Halla countered with mild contempt. “Even if it was, it wouldn’t matter. Look at the pitiful things.” She gestured, and they saw the degraded, crawling beggars pleading with patrons for a chance to perform the most servile acts in return for a sip of alcohol.

  “They’ll do anything short of killing themselves for a drink. Perform the most menial jobs for days for a tenth of a bottle.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Leia had to admit uncomfortably. “Just maybe this could be a piece of what you claim it to be from where you say it came from. I still don’t see why you have this drive to go hunting for it, especially if you insist its jewel potential doesn’t interest you.”

  “Still can’t see, can you?” Halla murmured. She turned sharply to face Luke. “Touch it, boy.”

  Luke hesitated, his gaze moving from the Princess to Halla and back again. Halla removed it from the box and extended it out to him in a cupped hand.

  “See, it’s not hot,” she told him. “Go on, touch it and believe. Are you afraid?” Luke continued to hesitate.

  “I’ll touch it,” the Princess volunteered, extending a finger. But Halla pulled it out of her reach.

  “No. This isn’t for you. Touching it would prove nothing to you.” She reached out toward Luke again. “Go on, boy. It won’t hurt you.”

  Licking his lower lip, Luke cautiously probed for the splinter with a finger. Touched it.

  It felt exactly like what it resembled, a piece of glowing heatless glass. But the sensations that coursed through him did not come from his finger, were not carried by the nerves in his skin. He quickly drew back his arm as if he’d contacted a live current.

  “Luke, what is it?” the Princess exclaimed, suddenly concerned. She stared accusingly at Halla. “You’ve hurt him!”

  “No, little pretty mouth, I haven’t hurt him. He has been startled and shocked and surprised, much as I was when I first contacted the crystal.”

  Leia faced Luke. “What did you feel?”

  “I … didn’t feel anything,” he informed her softly, now utterly convinced of the old woman’s sincerity. “I experienced it. This,” and he indicated the fragment of red mineral, “increases one’s perception of the Force. It magnifies and clarifies … in proportion to its size and density, I think.” He gazed hard at Halla. “Anyone in possession of the entire crystal, if it’s much larger than this fragment, would have such a lock on the Force that he could do almost anything, anything at all.”

  “My thought also, boy,” Halla agreed. She replaced the fragment in its box and snapped the lid shut, then re-rolled it in the soft material. She handed it to Luke. “To show you I mean what I say, you keep it. Go on, take it.” Luke did so, then slipped it into a pocket.

  “And now, I think,” she went on, “you have no choice but to help me, and without delay.”

  “Who says so?” the Princess grumbled.

  “No one says so, little pretty. Facts say so. By touching the fragment, Luke here set up a tiny but perceptible stirring in the Force. I felt it. It might have traveled no farther than this tavern, or it might have affected sensitives halfway across the galaxy. There are Force-sensitives in the Imperial government who might feel such a stirring.

  “However,” she continued with a shrug, “as I said, the sensation might have gone no farther than myself. But can you take that chance, Luke? If you’re both with the Alliance, as I’m pretty sure by now you are, then the Imperials should be real interested in Luke, here. From what I hear, they don’t like to think of there being anyone on the Rebel side capable of handling the Force.

  “Besides, boy, you know what kind of damage a Force master could do with the entire crystal in his hands. Can you take a chance on the Empire finding it first?” She looked almost apologetic. “Sorry, but I had to do something to shove you both past the no-return point. Couldn’t risk having my first really secure helpers back out on me, could I?”

  “She’s right, Leia,” Luke told his companion. “We can’t take the chance of having the crystal fall into Imperial hands.”

  “You’re right, Luke …”

  “Besides, Leia, we have no choice. We need Halla to help us get off-planet, and she won’t do that until we find the crystal anyway.” He eyed her hopefully. “All right?”

  “My, my, what’s this? A miner asking permission from his servant girl?” Neither of them could meet her shrewd gaze. “Take it easy, children. I won’t give you away, whoever you are.” She glanced around. “This isn’t the most private place to do business. Now, if you’re finished with your supper, we’d do well to talk elsewhere.”

  Luke nodded. “It’s about time we reassured Artoo and Threepio.”

  “Just a minute.” Halla put out a restraining hand. “I thought there were only the two of you.”

  Luke grinned. “Two ’droids I acquired … inherited, you might say.”

  “Oh, that’s all right, then. Never could afford a personal ’droid myself.”

  While paying their bill, Luke sneaked a glance in the direction of the Imperial civil servant. The man evidenced no further interest in them, didn’t even look in their direction. The servant-girl story had apparently convinced him.

  Once outside with the double metal door panels shut behind them, Leia kicked Luke sharply in the shins. He went staggering, tumbled off the narrow walkway into the mud-filled trench which separated walkway from more solid street. When he recovered his senses, he gazed at her in surprise.

  “Now you look more like a miner,” she grinned at him. “That’s for slapping me inside. No hard feelings?”

  Luke shook some of the mud from his hands, wiped at his chest, then smiled up at her. “No hard feelings, Leia.” He reached up, extended a hand. The Princess leaned forward, her left hand gripping a supporting post, her right extended to help Luke.

  Her caution didn’t matter. Luke yanked hard, and she plunged messily into the trench beside him. He sat there, grinning, as she turned around, looked down at herself in distress.

  “Look at me! Look what you’ve done to me!”

  “Made you look a little more like a servant girl,” he replied easily. “Can’t be too careful here, you know.”

  “Well, in that case …” Luke ducked the first handful of gook she heaved in his direction, caught part of the second and grappled with her.

  Halla was watching, amused, until several large men came out of the tavern behind her. They paused, their attention also drawn by the wrestling match in the mud. They were all just drunk enough to be dangerous and the longer they watched, the quieter they became.
/>
  Much too quiet to suit Halla …

  IV

  “FOR our souls and health,” she muttered hastily to the two combatants, “stop it, you two!”

  Encased in mud, neither Luke nor the Princess heard Halla’s anxiously whispered warning.

  One of the men leaned to his right, spat something out between his beard and commented, “Servant’s not supposed to fight back, boys.”

  “Doesn’t seem proper somehow,” his companion agreed.

  “Besides,” the first man added, “fightin’ in public’s against the town decrees, ain’t it?”

  “That’s right,” another man concurred. “Maybe we can straighten ’em out before the night troop takes ’em in. Be doin’ ’em a good turn.” He called down to Luke. “Hang in there, young fella. We won’t let her hurt you.”

  Grinning and chuckling among themselves, the five stepped down off the walkway. Finding herself providently ignored by all concerned, Halla slipped back into the shadows.

  “Is there anything we can do, madam?” a voice said into her ear. She jumped. Threepio jumped.

  “You’ve no right scaring me like that, you refugee from a scrap shop!”

  “I apologize, but my master and the lady …”

  “Oh. Are you Threepio?” The ’droid nodded slightly. “And this must be Artoo.” A beep sounded from a dim shape nearby. “We can’t do anything yet, I’m afraid.” She peered back out into the street. “Maybe those bulk-boys are just teasing.”

  Two of the men pulled Leia off Luke. That provided them with a good glimpse of her for the first time. Their initial amusement abruptly shifted as less pleasant emotions surfaced.

  “Well now,” murmured a barrel-chested individual with a Manchu mustache. “This is no ’droid servant, that’s for sure.”

  Leia became aware of the miners’ stares. Several buckles and straps on the tight-fitting clothes had come undone while she’d been wrestling with Luke. Despite the coating of mud over them, their exposed areas were drawing an uncomfortable amount of attention. She felt as if something was crawling all over her under her clothing.

  Ignoring the mud and trying to draw the loose ends of her attire together, she drew herself up regally, announced with shaky dignity, “Thank you very much. This is a private matter. Now, if you’ll all be so kind as to leave us to settle our differences.”

  “Thank you very much, this is a private matter,” one of the men echoed in a mincing tone. The others guffawed. The one with the beard leered down at her.

  “You’re not a registered citizen, lady-love.” He indicated her shoulder. “No name tag, nothing. Fighting in a public street’s against the law. Mine law says we got to apprehend anyone breaking the law when and where we can. C’mere and lemme apprehend you.” He reached out a massive paw.

  Backing up a quick step, the Princess continued to glare at them, but her confidence was seeping away like snow on a stove.

  “I can’t tell you who I am, but if any of you put a hand on me, you’ll answer for it.”

  Barrel-chest moved closer. There was no humor in his voice and he did not smile at her. “Little mudhen, I’ll put more than a hand on you.…”

  A slim form interposed itself between the Princess and her would-be apprehender. “Look, this is a private argument and we can finish it ourselves, friend.”

  “I ain’t your friend, sonny,” the man said evenly, putting out a hand and shoving Luke backward. “Stay out of this. Your argument ain’t important anymore.”

  The Princess let out a startled exclamation. One of the other men had slipped up behind her and had grabbed her around the chest with his left arm. Luke stepped over quickly, brought the edge of his palm down hard on the other’s wrist. Letting out a hurt yelp, the miner stepped back, holding his wrist.

  It had grown deathly silent on the street. All eyes were focused on Luke now, not on the Princess. The only sounds in the mist came from the distant jungle.

  “Sonny boy wants to play,” snickered the man whose wrist Luke had clipped. “Resistin’ public apprehension.” He flicked his right forearm. There was a clicking sound and a double-bladed stiletto slid out from under his coverall sleeve. The flat of the blades lay flush against the back of his fist. Faded light from the shielded tavern windows reflected ominously off both blades as the man started moving in a low crouch toward Luke.

  The Princess said nothing, just stared. So did Halla, Threepio, and Artoo from the safety of the shadows.

  “Come on, sonny,” the man urged, gesturing with his unarmed hand for Luke to approach. Then he flicked the weapon, and twin blades flashed out of his empty sleeve. He kicked his right leg, then his left. Double blades protruded from each boot sole. “Come on, let’s dance. I’ll make it last.”

  Trying to watch all eight blades at once, Luke tried to distract his attacker. “The lady and I were discussing something. We don’t need any outside involvement.”

  “Too late, sonny,” the man grinned. “You and I are involved, now.” His companions were watching and chuckling, occasionally nudging one another. They were obviously enjoying every second of the action.

  Jumping forward, the knife-wielder swung at Luke with his left hand, followed up the miss as Luke moved back with a spinning side kick, then swung around in an arc, reaching with his right hand. The double blades made whooshing sounds in the thick, damp night air.

  “We don’t want any trouble,” Luke declared, his hand moving reluctantly to the pommel of his lightsaber.

  “In a couple of minutes you won’t have to worry about it,” his assailant assured him. He dove with a yell toward Luke, who dodged both kicks and arm swings agilely.

  “Look out, Luke!” the Princess shouted … too late. One of the other men had come up behind Luke and now pinned both arms to his sides. The knife-wielder was approaching leisurely, the smile gone from his face, making entwining motions with his fists. The blades gleamed like his eyes.

  “Fancy dancer, ain’t you, boy? I’m tired of chasing you.”

  “Do him slow, Jake,” one of the onlookers advised. “Wise-mouth kid.”

  “I said,” Luke began, keeping his eyes on those nearing, weaving blades even as his right hand moved to his waist again, “we don’t want any trouble.” He pushed the stud on the hilt of the saber.

  Activated, the backward-pointing, meter-long beam of blue energy materialized, straight through the right thigh of the man who was holding him. Howling, the man let go of Luke and dropped to the ground, clutching at his leg.

  Knife-wielder froze for a moment, then started forward. With the saber, Luke described an intricate series of interweaving arcs and circles in the near darkness that caused his attacker to hesitate. A steady moaning came from the man on the ground.

  Luke lunged at the knife artist, just enough to make him retreat. “All of you, now … clear off.”

  Instead of clearing off, the grim-faced quartet exposed more blades and other hand weapons. They began maneuvering to encircle Luke, staying just out of range of that darting, lethal beam of light.

  Leia evened up the odds by leaping on the back of the man nearest her and clawing at his face. The three remaining men continued to probe at Luke with their own weapons, testing his speed and reflexes with professional acumen, talking among themselves and comparing notes on Luke’s abilities while planning the best way to take him. If they were waiting for their fourth companion to join them, they’d be disappointed. He had his hands full with the Princess, who was cursing them at the top of her lungs.

  Halla was looking on anxiously when movement further up the street drew her attention from the fight. A knot of efficient figures clad in black and white armor was moving at a fast trot toward the tavern. From the approaching Imperials she looked back to the stalemated battle.

  One man lunged at Luke from behind. Luke jumped above the charged prod the man was wielding and swung downward simultaneously. Off came a hand, cut and cauterized neatly at the wrist, to land in the mud and lie there
smoking slightly. The man fell backward, speechless, staring at his carbonized stump.

  The troopers were close now. Halla left her hiding place and, gesturing for Artoo and Threepio to follow, slunk off down the access-way between the buildings, vanishing into the night. After a second’s pause to see they could do no good by getting themselves captured, the two ’droids followed.

  Both remaining assailants continued to stalk Luke, more cautiously now. Having dispatched her single opponent with judicious pressure in the right place, the Princess was looking to take on another when something sun-bright and loud exploded in their midst, stunning everyone. They all turned, blinking against the lingering glare, to see a number of energy rifles focused on them.

  “Put up your weapons,” the sergeant in charge ordered them sharply, the angular markings on his armored sleeve showing triple in the dim light. Matching marks crossed his helmet. “You are remanded to custody, in the name of the Emperor, for fighting with weaponry in a public place.”

  As soon as the miners had retracted or otherwise holstered their various weapons, Luke shut off his saber. Two troopers came around and collected the small arsenal. The Princess noticed her one victim recovering consciousness and kicked him soundly.

  “You there, stop that!” the sergeant ordered.

  “Sorry,” she replied sweetly.

  They were marched through the town under armed convoy. Luke took the opportunity to study the surrounding structures. Few showed much difference from those they’d already encountered. In a town like this, interchangeability was an economic necessity, he reflected.

  Those inhabitants who encountered them pressed close to the walls of the buildings and whispered among themselves, pointing from time to time at the unlucky miscreants. The spectators obviously had some idea what was in store for them.

  Luke wished he did, too.

  “Where do you suppose they’re taking us?” he murmured to the Princess.

  “To the local jail, where else?”

  Luke nodded forward. “If that’s it, I’m impressed.”