Star Wars - Crystal Star

by The Crystal Star (by Vonda McIntyre)

  "How about them?" He gestured toward a second group, half a dozen massive, low-to-the-ground ovoidal people with short, powerful legs and eyes on thick flexible stalks.

  "They are," Threepio said.

  "Are what?" Threepio did not reply.

  "What?" Han asked.

  "I just told you, sir," Threepio said.

  "Oh. I beg your pardon. The language exists at a frequency below the limits of your hearing. It is a function of the environment, which is extremely high gravity." "They're sick," Luke said softly.

  "No, Master Luke," Threepio said patiently, "they are speaking a language that human ears--" "I don't mean them," Luke said. "I mean --there's somebody in almost every group who's ill or injured." Paying more attention to types of people he was familiar with, Han soon saw that Luke was right.

  The gathering took on a poignancy that he had not previously percvd. Here a family huddled together, protecting a child or parent or cross-cousin; there a clan group carried a stretcher that supported a moaning, palsied colleague.

  Han nodded at Luke, agreeing with his analysis.

  Luke doesn't look so hot himself, Han thought. What's happening to him? He never gets sick.

  "You will understand soon," Xaverri said. Her expression was grim. "It is our turn." She entered the courtyard. Han followed, with Luke at his side; Threepio brought up the rear.

  Silence surrounded them. The golden calligraphy on the front of the building glimmered against the mirrored sheen of the wall. The perspective changed as Han walked. The calligraphy moved and shifted and writhed, as if it were still being written.

  They were alone in the courtyard. The quiet was eerie. Han glanced over his shoulder, taken by the illusion that all the other people had disappeared. They had not; they remained where he had left them, crowded up to the entrance of the courtyard, waiting, speaking with quiet excitement among themselves. But their voices were inaudible.

  "Master Luke, I wonder, all things considered," Threepio said, "shall I wait outside?" "If you prefer," Xaverri said. "But I am accepted. There will be no danger to any of us." "Danger!" Han said. "Wait just a minute.

  Who said anything about any danger?" "No one," Xaverri said, amused. "I said there is no danger, if you follow my lead." "But--" "I meant," Threepio said, "that this does not appear to be a place likely to welcome. my kind." "All forms of sentience are welcome here," Xaverri said.

  "Even droids?" "Even droids." "Ah," Threepio said. "Somewhat unusual.

  Quite... enlightened." They passed beneath an archway at the far end of the courtyard, and descended into bedlam.

  Inside, the awed gathering had transformed itself into wailing, begging supplicants. They roiled in an undisciplined crowd toward the back of the wide, low theater, where a high golden altar loomed above them.

  "Waru, help us! Waru, heal my child, heal my egg-sister, protect my hearth-friends from the curse laid upon them!" The pleas echoed in the chamber. Luke grabbed Han's upper arm. His fingers dug painfully into Han's biceps.

  "Hey, kid--" "Look," Luke said urgently.

  The altar moved.

  Han tensed. "What--? Where is that from, Threepio?" "I confess, sir, that despite my knowledge of all the worlds of the New Republic, and many worlds outside it, I am unfamiliar with this being." "That is Waru," Xaverri said.

  The altar--the being--rose higher with a clenching contraction. It oriented itself toward them.

  "Approach me, Xaverri." The voice was rich and full and clear and very, very soft. It filled the chamber with a whisper, insinuating itself past the pleading of the congregation.

  Xaverri stepped forward, and the crowd parted for her.

  Han followed without thinking; all he knew was that he did not want her to approach the strange being alone. He pulled himself free of Luke's restraining hand.

  As Han neared the altar, he got a better look at Waru. It was a complex construct of chased gold shields. But beneath the shields, visible from certain angles and at certain movements of the being, lay a slab of raw, uncovered tissue, like chunks of meat. Fluid --blood?--glistened between the massive shields, oozed out, and fell by drops and fine streams onto the stage, where it coagulated into a crusted pool.

  The blood ran off the stage and formed stalactites that hung nearly to the floor of the auditorium.

  Xaverri stopped at the edge of the stage.

  "Thou art not alone, Xaverri," Waru whispered.

  "I am not alone, Waru." "Do they wish to be healed?" Waru sounded infinitely tired.

  "No, Waru. I have brought new students to study thy revelations, and learn thy truth, and appreciate thine existence. To give thee their devotion." Thou? Han thought. Oh, fine, what is this, some obscure dialect--? Thou art, thou hast, thou wouldst... What did they just say? Thou wouldst hadst beenst...? No, that's not right.

  Waru sighed. "I am very pleased. Only thou, Xaverri, hast ever offered me a gift. All others plead for my gifts--and I am glad to give them! But..." "Thy generosity is the marvel of Crseih Station," Xaverri said.

  No one else responded to Waru's complaint.

  It was as if the being's whisper reached only Xaverri and her friends. Come to think of it, Han had not heard Waru speaking to anyone else. He had only heard Waru's whisper when the being addressed Xaverri directly.

  Good trick, Han thought. It has to be a trick--doesn't it? Unless... it's what Luke is looking for.

  He glanced at Luke, but he could not tell whether this was the lost Jedi Luke sought. Luke's expression was intent, but he revealed no joy.

  The golden plates riffled, as sensuous and sleek as an animal's fur. They contracted, and the veins between them closed together. Fluid-- Ichor, Han thought, this is the first time I've ever seen anything that should truly be called ichor--ran from beneath Waru's massive base, seeping out to form a new, glistening layer around it. One droplet flowed along the spike of a stalactite, hung at the tip, simultaneously stretched and coagulated, and froze into a narrow, sharp edge at the end of the spike.

  As Waru's armor contracted, the being rose even higher, craning toward them. Han searched in vain for obvious organs of sight, hearing, smell, or other sensation. But he could not even tell how Waru produced a voice.

  Maybe it percvs us as heat impressions, right on its skin, Han thought.

  Or maybe, he thought, it doesn't perceive us at all. Maybe it isn't even alive.

  "Thou hast brought me a new creature," Waru said to Xaverri. "I have seen humans before --oh, yes, many humans, humans are so frail--but not this other being." Waru leaned forward.

  The crusted ichor cracked and flaked away, revealing new edges of gold scales. "Who are you? What are you?" Xaverri drew See-Threepio forward. "This is my new acquaintance, Purple-Three. I thought perhaps thou hadst not met his like before." "Welcome, Purple-Three," Waru said.

  "Thank you, Mr. Waru," Threepio said.

  "I am most honored to be permitted into your presence." Han gave Threepio a lot of credit for picking up on Waru's use of the standard you instead of the esoteric thou. The droid had noticed, as Han had not, that Waru used thou for Xaverri alone.

  I would have put my foot in it, Han thought.

  Probably offended the hell out of this critter.

  Why didn't Xaverri tell us--?

  "My name is only Waru," the enormous being said, its voice a purr. "Though some call me "teacher."' It is the only honorific I esteem." "Then I would be pleased to use it, if you will accept it from me," Threepio said. "I have studied many subjects, in many places. I am an expert on human-cyborg relationships and am fluent in six million forms of communication.

  I am always grateful for a teacher willing to share esoteric knowledge." Han found the heat and humidity oppressive.

  The coppery scent of Waru's ichor prickled uncomfortably in his lungs. Beside him, Luke stared at the being with a fixed, hypnotized gaze.

  "Relax, kid." Han's voice was quiet, amused. "It's only a--" Xaverri shot him a quick, furious warning glance. Luk
e turned slowly toward him with an icy, inhuman glare, then returned his attention to Waru. Startled, Han shut up, but he finished the comment to himself: This is a scam, he thought.

  It's the most elaborate one I've seen in a while, but it's still a scam. If Luke and Ben Kenobi are anything to judge by, no Jedi would behave like this--and if Waru represented the dark side, Luke would know it.

  The best reaction I can give this thing is laughter.

  "Xaverri, honored student, wert thou able to study the texts I gave thee?" "Yes, teacher," Xaverri said.

  "Of course thou didst comprehend the connection between the ego-flux and the universal backlight, but I wonder if thou didst make the conceptual leap to the synergy of intellectual realization and quantum crystallization?" "I am embarrassed to admit that I had not," Xaverri said, "though now that thou hast shown me the path, I can see that the interaction is completely inevitable." Han repressed a snort of annoyance and disbelief.

  Xaverri and Waru conversed in that manner for a few minutes, oblivious to the crowd and the noise and the pleas for assistance. The wailing began to get on Han's nerves. What he wanted to do was leap up on the stage and tell all these people to go home and see their doctors. He wanted to ask Xaverri why she kept flattering Waru. It shocked him to witness her deference to the being.

  In the old days, she had never been susceptible to this kind of fraud. She knew too much about fraud to be taken in. She had designed some similar hoaxes herself, though she reserved the healer scam for particularly loathsome Imperial officers. She had never failed to relieve her chosen prey of a considerable portion of their resources.

  Did she believe Waru's nonsense? If she did, she had changed beyond recognition from the person Han used to know, changed far beyond the physical. If she did not believe--then what were they doing here?

  Threepio observed the conversation in uncharacteristic silence. Han frowned. Threepio's expression was impossible to read, but it was seldom difficult to know what the droid thought about any particular situation. Threepio would tell you. Or the droid would dissemble transparently. For a diplomat, Threepio was one of the poorest liars Han had ever met.

  On the other hand, a lot of people found it flattering to know they were being lied to, if the lie was to soothe their feelings or acknowledge their status.

  Threepio was a master of that technique.

  Luke watched and listened with the same fixed and intense expression that had possessed him as soon as he encountered Waru. Luke's reaction troubled Han most of all.

  Waru completed a philosophical discourse on the state of the universe, which Han had long since lost track of.

  "And now," Waru said with every evidence of disappointment, "I cannot further indulge myself in this enlightening conversation." Xaverri placed her hand on one of Waru's golden scales. She closed her eyes and fell silent and still. The gold scale took on a pink glow and radiated gentle warmth around Xaverri's fingers. Luke took one step toward her, lifting his hand. Han grabbed him and pulled him back.

  Luke turned on him, snarling.

  With a startled curse, Han nearly dropped Luke's wrist. He wanted to walk out of the assembly in disgust even if it meant leaving his friends to be bilked and shamed.

  "Don't be stupid!" Han whispered fiercely. "And don't presume on a few minutes' acquaintance!" He tightened his grip.

  Luke looked at Han's fingers clamped around his flesh and squeezing his bones together.

  Intelligence leaked back into Luke's eyes.

  He made a leisurely turning movement of his hand; he slipped from Han's tight grasp without apparent effort.

  "You're right," he said. His voice was tight.

  He turned his back on Han and watched Xaverri and Waru, intently, hungrily.

  "I hate it when you do that," Han muttered.

  His fingers tingled, not because of any violence in Luke's motion, but because he had been holding so tightly that his hand spasmed when Luke pulled free.

  The marks of Han's fingers remained, first white, then red, on Luke's skin.

  Xaverri drew back from Waru. Her handprint glowed, then faded from the golden scale. A drop of ichor oozed from the scale's lower edge and fell with a sticky plop. Xaverri made a motion of obeisance toward Waru.

  The being's attention left them abruptly, like a release of pressure. Han staggered one step forward, caught himself, and shrugged off the odd effect. But he was curious about how the effect had been produced.

  Xaverri backed up. The roiling crowd surged ahead of her, each member keening for Waru's recognition.

  Xaverri's knees buckled. Her collapse surprised Han so thoroughly that he nearly let her fall. In all the years he had known her, in the old days, she had never fainted, even at times of exhaustion or pain. Her stamina had always amazed him. His first thought, as she fell, was that she must be sinking to the ground for some deliberate reason: she wanted to make another bow to Waru; she had dropped something and had to retrieve it.

  Han jumped forward and caught her before she fell beneath trampling feet. She trembled violently. Luke and Threepio closed in, forming a small circle. Moving against the flow of the crowd, they pushed their way to the back of the theater.

  Han plunged toward the door, but Xaverri struggled free.

  "Stay here!" she said. "I am all right, I only--speaking with Waru affects me for a moment.

  But you must see the ceremony." "Affects you?" Han said. "It knocked you flat. Let's get out of here!" The color began to return to her golden-tan face, and her shivering ceased.

  "You must observe," she said again.

  "She's right," Luke said. "It's what we came here for." "All right," Han said unwillingly.

  It's all a fraud, he said to himself. But even frauds can be dangerous.

  They made their way to the very back of the auditorium. The floor slanted, so they had a view over the crowd. On the stage, in the frozen pool of ichor, Waru waited as one of the small groups of supplicants brought one of their members into the teacher's presence. The Zefflifflike pressed one of the leafy comrades to the top of their heap, then slid the individual forward till it huddled on the ichor. Its color was noticeably paler than that of its companions, a sickly yellow-green rather than shiny and blue-black. It shed a flutter of small wilted leaves whenever it moved.

  "Do you wish me to try to heal you, seeker?" Waru's voice, no longer a directed, private whisper, rumbled through the hall.

  The Zefflifflike responded with a flurry of sound, like leaves swirled in water.

  "She says, "I entreat you to help me,"'" Threepio said.

  Now comes the scam, Han thought. Give Waru all your worldly goods-- "Then I will try to help you," Waru said.

  Every sound in the auditorium ceased abruptly.

  The attention of every being focused on Waru and Waru's patient.

  Waru leaned over the Zeffliffl.

  Several of the golden scales liquefied and splashed over the huddled Zefflifflike, covering it with a bright metallic shell. Han watched closely, wishing he were at the front of the auditorium so he could figure out how Waru conceived that effect.

  Why'd you bring us all the way back here, Xaverri? he wondered. [ you afraid for me to be too close?

  The metallic shell attached the Zefflifflike to Waru like a parasite, like an exterior womb.

  The raw wound left where the scales had melted gushed bloody ichor. The liquid flowed over the shell, patterning it like the calligraphy on the facade of Waru's compound. The runnels flowed together, creating a translucent chrysalis around the shell.

  At the foot of the stage, the Zefflifflike group huddled together, their leaves fluttering as if they were in a windstorm.

  The room grew still. All around Han, people were bowing their heads. Even Xaverri, who had never bowed her head to anyone. Stubbornly, Han kept watching.

  Waru shuddered. The golden scales touched, ringing together with pure clear tones, like bells enlivened by the wind.

  Han divided his fee
lings equally between admiration for the effects and scorn for the gullibility of Waru's followers.