Splinter in the Mind's Eye

by Alan Dean Foster

  This time Luke used his right leg. As the youth put every ounce of his remaining strength into the kick, his foot fairly exploded out of the water. It caught the Coway in the mid-section, roughly where a human stomach would be located. Whether from the tremendous force of the kick or the fact that he'd struck a more vulnerable area, the Coway let out a startled whoof! and sat down hard in the water.

  Stumbling toward it, Luke lifted his leg and kicked again. The Coway wasn't so stunned it failed to raise an arm to block the kick. Simultaneously it grabbed the swinging leg and fell across it. Luke tried to turn over as the still sitting Coway pulled him toward itself by the one thrashing leg. If the creature could get its hands on him this time, Luke knew the matter would be ended. He was face down on the sand. There would be nothing he could do.

  His dragging hands encountered something oblong and unyielding. A rock, but too large for him to get a hand around. He'd need both hands to raise anything so massive, and much better leverage than he possessed at the moment to make use of it.

  The hand he feared came down on the back of his neck. It shoved downward, brutally hard; so hard that Luke's face plunged into the sandy bottom of the pond. He felt the clean grains pressing into his nostrils. Raised on a desert world, he was about to meet a death damper than any he'd ever conceived of.

  His thoughts became hazy as his blood scoured the last dregs of oxygen from his lungs. A voice sang fancifully in the back of his mind. It was exerting him to relax. Well, that was simple enough to do, he reflected pleasantly. Relax he would. He was tired, so tired now.

  The Coway took it for a ploy and didn't ease the pressure on Luke. If anything, it shoved harder, sensing victory. Then, miraculously, the pressure vanished from Luke's neck. Unable to think of turning to defend himself, of striking back, Luke shot to the surface.

  Air! Most delicious of gases, it filled his starved lungs, those weakened bellows pumping harder with every fresh breath. Coughing up water, he stayed on his knees, delirious with the pleasure of being able to breathe again. Only when his system's panicky requests for oxygen faded did he think to turn and look for his opponent.

  Blood trickled from the side of the Coway's head into the clear pond water. It was lying on its back, manifestly unconscious, maybe dead.

  On hands and knees a thoroughly dazed and somewhat puzzled Luke crawled to the Coway's motionless side. With one hand he touched the other's face, raised a fist over it. But there was no movement. The Coway's distress was genuine and not some cat-and-mouse alien ploy. It did not rise to attack.

  Another body was suddenly in the water beside him. "You won, Luke, you beat him!" the Princess was shouting into his ear. She had both arms wrapped tightly around him and the pressure almost sent them both tumbling together into the water.

  "Don't you understand?" she asked brightly. "You won. We can all go free now. That is," she continued in a more subdued voice, staring around at the silent crowd and trying not to show any fear, "we can if these creatures have any sense of honor."

  "I wouldn't worry too much about that, Leia," he advised her, wiping water from his face. "Canu has judged, remember? Besides, it takes many thousands of years of advanced technological development for a society to reduce honor to an abstract moral truism devoid of real meaning.

  "If this were an Imperial arena, then I'd be concerned." He regarded the watching natives. "I think the Coway keep their word."

  "We'll find out," she assured him, wishing she could share his certainty. Putting his left arm around her shoulders, she helped him to his feet. As they started out of the pond Luke heard something burbling and snorting like a hog in heat. A glance to his left showed the twitching form of his opponent. He was gratified. The Coway wasn't dead.

  As soon as this became apparent, several Coway broke from the assembled ranks and approached their injured relative. For a moment Luke felt concern. He'd heard of primitive societies where the vanquished or dishonored representative of a tribe was put to death for his or her failure.

  It looked as if the Coway were more mature than that. They lifted their defeated champion to a sitting position and held some kind of burning plant under his face. Luke caught a whiff of it and it helped him regain his strength. He tried to hurry past. Even if the Coway was dead, he decided only half-jokingly, one breath of that incredibly pungent burning substance would have aroused him.

  Then something caught his eye and he paused, staring blankly at it. What had riveted his attention was not the Coway's continuing methods of medication, nor the vanquished warrior's convulsive reactions to them, but a large rock. As big as a man's head, it lay in the water close by the Coway's head.

  His fingertips retained the memory of that stone. It was the one he'd encountered prior to passing out. Or had he passed out? It seemed as if something deep inside him, some resource of which he was unaware, had reacted on the brink of asphyxiation to help him raise the rock, turn and fling it at his tormentor.

  Yet he couldn't, recall even placing both hands around it, let alone lifting it clear of the water and throwing.

  "How did I do it?" he asked the Princess.

  She eyed him uncertainly. "Do? Do what?"

  "Beat... him," he added exhaustedly, gesturing loosely toward the Coway fighter.

  Her gaze traveling from the native back to Luke, the Princess permitted herself a frown. "You mean you don't remember?" He shook his head. "I thought everything was finished when you were pushed under the second time, Luke. I suppose I was worrying needlessly, but by staying under so long you had us all fooled."

  I wasn't fooling, Luke said to himself.

  The Princess was smiling now. "Then you threw that big rock. Caught him right in the temple. The creature wasn't expecting it. He didn't even try to duck. I didn't think you were that supple an in-fighter, Luke."

  Luke could have objected, could have mentioned that he wasn't expecting it either. Only the obvious admiration shining from the Princess' eyes kept him silent. They could discuss all that later, he argued with himself.

  But one thing seemed unarguable-somehow, he had thrown the rock. By one method or another, he'd thrown it. That was the important thing. Now to find out if his evaluation of the Coway would make his mysterious effort worthwhile.

  They reached Halla and the others. All were trying to congratulate him at once. Luke didn't reply. Retrieving his saber from the Princess, he utilized it on low power to cut away the vines tying old Halla to the stalactites. The old woman nearly fell, momentarily incapacitated by lack of circulation to her bound legs. The Princess was there to steady her.

  "Thank you, young lady." Halla bent over and rubbed her thighs.

  Luke moved to release the Yuzzem and the 'droids. As he did so one of the three chiefs, the one whose signal had initiated the fight, interposed itself between Luke and Kee. For an awful moment Luke felt he'd completely misjudged the Coway, that he'd taken a romantic instead of realistic view of them. Was he going to have to fight again? Or possibly the Yuzzem, not being human, would have to perform some difficult feat of their own to gain their freedom? What unimaginable facet of subterranean law did they face now?

  He needn't have troubled himself. The chief merely wished to illustrate Canu's judgment in a fashion clear to all. Luke watched tensely as the native slipped a sharp-bladed knife of volcanic glass from his garments, relaxed when the blade was used to slice away first the Yuzzem's restraints and then the 'droids.

  His relief faded when he heard a muttering sound and turned to see several Coway leading toward him the one he had fought. One supported the bandaged native at each arm. The champion shook off the pair of helpers as he neared Luke.

  Muscles tight, Luke gripped the lightsaber firmly and waited. Kee chittered ominously but Luke put up a hand to quiet the Yuzzem.

  Reaching with both arms, the Coway warrior clasped Luke around the shoulders and pulled. Luke thought he'd have to use the saber after all, when the native pushed him away gently. Then it slapped him on o
ne cheek.

  Luke blinked. The blow had been nearly powerful enough to knock him out. The Coway murmured something, but somehow it didn't sound like a challenge.

  "Don't just stand there," an amused Halla instructed him, "hit him back."

  "What?" Luke was confused and not ashamed to show it. "I thought the fight was over."

  "It is," she explained. "It's his way of acknowledging that you're the stronger. Go on, hit him back."

  "Well..." Using his right hand, he belted the quiescent Coway hard enough to rattle the native's teeth. Despite Halla's assurances, he braced himself for some sort of violent response. Instead, the native displayed a satisfied expression and dropped to his knees before Luke as the crowd howled its approval.

  After the warrior had moved to one side, a second chief drew close. It spoke solemnly, directing its words toward Luke.

  "As near as I can figure him," Halla translated softly, "we're invited to stay for a feast tonight."

  "How can they tell tonight from today?" the Princess wanted to know.

  "Probably they post watchers at their exits on the surface," the old woman surmised. "If they haven't always been underground dwellers, it's likely they'd retain surface methods of telling time."

  "Can't you refuse for us?" Luke asked hopefully. "Tell them how badly we have to return to the world above."

  Halla muttered something at the chief, who replied readily. "This isn't exactly a request, Luke. If we were to turn down the invitation, we'd apparently insult not only their hospitality but Canu's as well. We have our choice, of course. If we insist on refusing, all we have to do is pick a champion to fight one of theirs and then-"

  Luke interrupted with, "It's just occurred to me how hungry I am...."

  XI

  THEY had no sense of night. When the time for the celebration finally arrived it was as bright in the huge cavern as ever. The phosphorescent plant life of internal Mimban functioned according to schedules that ignored the unseen motions of astronomical bodies.

  Having dried his clothes by the permanent bonfire and then dressed again, Luke felt almost himself. Only his neck still bothered him. It ached at the back, where the Coway's unyielding fingers had pressed.

  Large platters of exotic-looking foods were passed around a series of concentric circles around the pond. The visitors were entertained by endless dancing, made tolerable in spite of the wailing rhythmic music by the truly astonishing leaps and jumps of the spring-muscled Coway performers.

  Halla pronounced judgment on each platter, indicating which foods were tolerable to the human organism and which were not. What went for man apparently served Yuzzem-kind as well, though they did encounter a couple of stomach-twisting exceptions, none fatal.

  Luke ate with good grace. He considered Halla's evaluations severely deficient in a few instances, but he consumed enough food to please their anxious hosts and kept it all down.

  While much of it tasted like reprocessed X-wing fuselage insulation, a couple of the subterranean gourmet delights were downright flavorful. He tried to concentrate on these. In actuality he ate a great deal more than he intended to. However alien their origin, the dishes set before him were fresh. They were a welcome change from the steady diet of concentrates he and Leia had been subsisting on.

  For her part, the Princess, seated on his immediate left, appeared to be enjoying the entertainment considerably. Apparently her feelings toward Mimban's surface didn't extend to criticism of its arts.

  An inquiry produced a surprising response. "That's one of the things that's so wrong with the Empire, Luke," she commented enthusiastically. "Its art has grown as decadent as the government. Both suffer from a lack of creative vitality. That's what originally drew me to the Alliance, not politics. Politically, I was probably almost as naive as you."

  "I don't quite see," he said drily.

  "When I was living in my father's palace, I was utterly bored, Luke. Examination of why I found nothing entertaining led me to discover how the Empire had stifled any original thought. Long-established totalitarian governments fear any kind of free expression. A sculpture can be a manifesto, a manuscripted adventure can double as a cry for rebellion. From corrupt aesthetics to corrupt politics was a smaller step than most people around me realized."

  Luke nodded, hoping he really understood. He wanted to, since what the Princess had just said was obviously very important to her.

  From the platter nearest him he chose a small fruit resembling a miniature pink gourd. He bit into it experimentally. Blue juice gushed all over his front, eliciting immediate laughter from Halla and the Princess.

  No, he reflected, he probably never would completely understand the Princess. "What do you expect," he mumbled, laughing at himself, "from an untutored country boy?"

  "I think," the Princess responded softly, not looking at him, "that for an untutored country boy, you're one of the most sophisticated men I know."

  Primitive music and chanting faded into the background as he turned to her in surprise. Like a missile launcher sighting on its prey, his eyes contacted hers. There was a brief, silent explosion before she looked hurriedly away.

  Thinking very hard about something he'd hardly dared think about for several years, he bit into the fruit again, more carefully this time.

  Suddenly his hand opened as if he'd been shot. The pink bulb fell to the ground as Luke stood bolt upright, eyes open and staring. The Princess rose, tried to make something of the gaping expression on his face.

  "Luke... what's wrong?" He took a couple of unsteady steps.

  "Was it the fruit, boy?" Halla looked equally concerned. "Boy?"

  Luke blinked, turned slowly to face them all. "What?"

  "We were worried, Master Luke. You..." But Threepio broke off as Luke turned away to stare eastward.

  "He's coming," he murmured, every letter resounding. "He's near, very near."

  "Luke boy, you'd better start making some sense or I'll have Hin hold you down and feed you dipills," Halla said. "Who's coming?"

  "There was a stirring," Luke whispered by way of reply. "A profound disturbance in the Force. I've felt it before, weakly. I felt it most strongly when Ben Kenobi was killed."

  Leia inhaled in terror, her eyes widening. "No, not him again, not here."

  "Something blacker than night stirs the Force, Leia," Luke told her. "This Governor Essada must have contacted him, sent him here. He'd be especially interested in locating you and me."

  "Who would?" Halla half-shouted in frustration.

  "Lord Darth Vader," Leia mumbled, barely audible. "A dark lord of the Sith. We've... met before." Her hands were trembling. She fought to still them.

  A shouting native voice broke the brief moment of desolate contemplation. The music ceased. The dancers halted their gravity-defying leaps and pirouettes.

  All three chiefs rose and stared at the native running toward the assembly. The runner collapsed in the arms of one chief. A short, mostly one-sided conversation followed. Then the chief left the courier gasping on hands and knees, turned and gesticulated wildly as he relayed the courier's information to his people.

  Consternation replaced joy among the gathered Coway. Soon the orderly assembly had become a riot, natives rushing in every direction, hairy arms flying, eyes bulging in panic. Food, utensils, instruments were forgotten, were trampled or overturned.

  Then the chief approached the non-Coway celebrants, chattered at Halla.

  "What did he say?"

  She turned to Luke and the others. "Humans are coming. Hard-shell humans. Down the main passage from the surface. The way we came in." She looked disgusted, angry. "Many humans, carrying rods of death. They've already killed two Coway who were gathering food near the exit and tried to run from them."

  "Imperial troops, in armor," Luke murmured with satisfaction. "It has to be, given the other presence I sensed."

  "But how could Vader have found us down here?" the Princess demanded to know. "How?" Luke was listening to
something none of the others could hear, so she turned to Halla. "Could our trail in the swamp crawler have been followed?"

  Halla considered the impossible situation reluctantly. "Possible, but I doubt it. There were a lot of places where we just about floated across bog, and couldn't have left a trail. But it's conceivable a top-tracker could have plotted a rough course through the surface, making use of the traces we did leave. It seems incredible, though. I know all the Imperial terrain tracers and none of them are that good."

  "Even if one of them were," the Princess rushed on, "how could they go from the ruined crawler to the exit for the Coway cavern? How could they know we're down here?"

  "Maybe they thought that after our crawler was destroyed we'd seek shelter underground," Halla hypothesized. "But I still don't understand how they knew we'd be in this particular cave."

  "I guess I'm probably the cause of that." They all turned to face Luke. "Just as I sensed Vader, he no doubt can sense me. He's had a lot more experience with the Force than I have, so his senses are probably stronger. Don't forget, he was a pupil of Obi-wan Kenobi." He glanced back toward the shaft-tunnel leading to the surface of Mimban.

  "He's coming for us."

  It was not possible for a 'droid to faint, but See Threepio managed a convincing imitation. Artoo chided his companion.

  "Artoo's right, Threepio," said Luke. "Turning yourself off won't help anyone."

  "I... know that, sir," the tall 'droid responded, "but a dark lord, coming here. The very thought is enough to make my sensors go to overload."

  Luke smiled grimly. "Mine too, Threepio."

  The two other chiefs joined the third member of the Coway triumvirate, started babbling at it. Their chatter was punctuated by innumerable gestures and much waving of hands. Luke had the impression many of the gestures and a good deal of the talk concerned the three humans standing nearby.

  Finally the chiefs turned and stared expectantly at Luke. Baffled, he looked to Halla for an explanation. He didn't much like the one she gave him.

  "They say that since you defeated their champion, you are the greatest warrior present."