Splinter in the Mind's Eye

A huge pile of rubble fallen from the ceiling lay ahead. The fleeing Coway reached it, started scrambling for the top. While still on the run, the Princess took aim and heaved the axe she carried with more force and accuracy than Luke (or anyone else) would have given her credit for. It struck the native on the right shoulder and sent it tumbling down the other side of the rock pile.

  "You got him," Luke exclaimed, "you got him."

  Gasping for breath they started up the hill of broken stone. It seemed brighter on the far side. Probably, Luke mused absently, from denser growth of light-generating plants.

  Mimbanian botany was otherwise far from his thoughts now. They had to catch and dispatch the wounded Coway before it brought an army of its fellows down on them. They topped the rise.

  And paused there at the sight of what lay just beyond...

  X

  THE cave opened out into an enormous circular amphitheater, as large as the black lake only empty of water. High up on the far side of the cavern wall sat several small, single-story structures. They were of the same construction as the city just behind them, perhaps some kind of gateway buildings. Only these were not nearly as run-down as the structures in the main part of the city. Someone had kept them reasonably intact. The ground around them had been cleared of debris, and walls and roofs were neatly, if crudely, patched. They gave every sign of being occupied.

  Below, they saw the native the Princess had nicked with the axe holding his shoulder as he ran toward a great crowd of furred beings clustered in the cavern's center. They stood around a modest pond, a depression kept full by seepage from the ceiling. A real bonfire blazed to the pond's left, fed by assorted yellow-brown substances which were not honest wood but which burned very efficiently.

  Framed by pond and fire were three large stalagmites, to which were tied two growling Yuzzem and an old woman. Halla stood bound by several vine-like cords, while Hin and Kee were nearly mummified by many more. Threepio and Artoo Detoo stood enveloped in vine-cords nearby.

  At least two hundred Coway, including armed females and children, clustered around pond, fire and prisoners. The wounded relative running toward them was now yelling at the top of his lungs.

  Luke started to turn. The Princess grabbed his arm, stared hard at him. "Where would we run to, Luke? They'll be after us in seconds, and they know these passages. If we have to fight and die I'd rather do it out in the open... and not on the lake." She hefted the fallen axe.

  "Leia, we-" But she was already scrambling down the rubble toward the cavern.

  By this time the injured Coway had reached the crowd and was jabbering excitedly to several large males who wore unmistakable headdresses of stone, bone, and other materials. Several cries came from backward-looking members of the assembly. All eyes shifted to the two beings walking slowly toward them.

  Luke held his lightsaber before him. The native Leia had wounded now pointed to the glowing weapon and muttered nervously.

  As they neared the mob of assembled troglodytes Luke made what he hoped was a positive, confident gesture with the saber. The crowd, muttering uncertainly, parted. Twitching internally, Luke and the Princess marched between the ranks of intent natives toward the three captives. While they respected the power of the lightsaber, Luke had the distinct impression they were anything but panicked by it.

  "They're not sure what to do," the Princess murmured, confirming his own thoughts. "They seem to admire your saber, but they're not going to grant you godhood."

  "They'll admire it more if they try and stop us," Luke said grimly, with increasing confidence. He gestured sharply at one knot of Coways which were pressing a little close.

  "Luke!" Halla yelped as the two drew near the captives. Both Yuzzem were chattering gleefully at Luke and to one another.

  "Well, you met us," he observed sardonically as he studied their bonds. "You were right about that too, Halla."

  "Not quite the way I intended, boy." She shouted something to the three splendidly attired natives the wounded one had approached, then resumed whispering to Luke: "You realize we haven't much chance of getting out of here?"

  "She's right, sir," said Threepio. "Try to save yourselves."

  "I didn't walk and row this far to end up sacrificed to some subterranean deity," he shot back. Abruptly, he realized what had just happened. "You can talk to them," he stated in surprise.

  "A little. Their language is a variant of the one the greenies use. It's not easy... sort of like talking under water. But I can make the chiefs understand me."

  "Chiefs?"

  "It seems Coway tribes are ruled by a triumvirate," she explained. "Those three laughing boys in the bonnets over there. I just made them a proposal. If they're as noble, or sporting, as I think they are, we might have one chance."

  "Proposal? What proposal?" the Princess inquired suspiciously.

  "I'll get to that shortly," Halla told her evasively. "We'd located the way down and were on our way to meet you when we were ambushed. It was in a narrow passageway, and in close quarters there were just too many of them. They used nets on your Yuzzem and 'droid friends, boy. We didn't have a chance."

  "We might if I set you free now," Luke theorized. "Where are your weapons?"

  "Take it easy, Luke," she admonished him. She jerked her head in the direction of the cluster of low-lying buildings, far off on the right side of the cavern. "You'd never make it over there. Besides, I didn't see which house they put them in.

  "Even if I knew exactly, you'd never be able to cut us free, get to them, and get back in time. You're pretty good with that lightsaber, I expect, but you can't fight a hundred spears all flying at you from different directions at once. Unless," she brightened hopefully, "that toy of yours generates a screen as well as a blade."

  "No," Luke confessed, "just the blade. How long have you been tied here?"

  "About half a day, and my bladder's killing me," she informed him. "They've spent the time arguing about which way to go about killing us. They don't have any personal grudge against us... they just don't like humans generally. Not surprising, if they've been able to observe how the miners treat the greenies. I don't think our Coway friends would be too upset if every human on Mimban suddenly picked up and left."

  "Tell them we're not like the local humans," Luke insisted, eying the circle of hostile faces. "Tell them that we don't want anything to do with the local people either."

  "This isn't a tribe of philosophers, Luke boy," Halla explained patiently. "Their concept of government is damned simple. You can't explain something like the Rebellion to the Coway. But I think," she added, peering past Luke at the three chiefs who were still engaged in heated discussion among themselves, "they'll give us one chance."

  "I don't believe it," the Princess countered, glowering at the old woman. "Would we give an enemy who'd already killed four of our own a second chance?"

  "According to the fella with the gash in his shoulder who preceded you here," Halla went on, "you only killed two. The others are just wounded. Apparently the Coway treat death as an inevitable, everyday occurrence. Primitive society, remember? To their way of thinking the two you killed simply died a little earlier than they should have. One chief even berated the dead men just now for making a poor decision. Says they ought to have waited for reinforcements. He's arguing that the blame isn't yours, it's the dead ones', for acting stupid when they should have known better."

  "That's barbaric," the Princess muttered.

  Halla looked smug. "What've I been telling you all along? Anyway, the one with the shoulder you sliced, Luke, is telling-"

  "Not him," objected the Princess, "me."

  "Oh?" Halla's estimate of the Princess rose a notch. "Well, he's been ranting on about what a great fighter Luke is."

  Luke looked distressed at this admiration of an action he'd despised. "A lightsaber against spears and axes isn't a very fair fight."

  Halla nodded agreeably. "That's what they're arguing about now."

  "I'm not sur
e I follow you, Halla."

  "I tried to tell them everything, Luke boy," she explained, "when you and the girl were climbing down this side of the rockfall." I tried to convince them that not only were we from off-planet and of different variety from the miners, but that you were both fighting the humans on the surface and that if we won, you'd kick them all off Mimban. Then the Coway could go back to roaming the surface whenever they pleased.

  "One chief is all for it, the second thinks I'm the biggest liar in the history of their race, and the third is undecided. That's what all the noise is about: the first two are each trying to persuade the third to take his side."

  "What about this proposal?" the Princess wanted to know.

  "Oh, that." Halla managed to look embarrassed. "I suggested that if they couldn't make up their minds as to what the truth was, they could let Canu decide. As near as I can figure, Canu's their local god in charge of adjudicating. All our greatest warrior has to do to convince Canu that we're telling the truth is to defeat one of their tribal champions."

  Luke blinked. "Give me that again, Halla?"

  "Don't worry," Halla assured him, "you have the Force on your side, remember?"

  "Force? I'd rather have my saber."

  She shook her head apologetically. "Sorry, Luke boy. You said it yourself. Axes and spears against a saber's not fair."

  Luke turned away, looked discouraged. "I'm no fighter, Halla, and you overestimate the Force's usefulness."

  "Luke, these people are no giants."

  "They're not midgets, either. What happens if we agree to this contest and I happen to lose?"

  Halla's answer was delivered with her usual aplomb. "Then we'll likely have our throats cut in some uniquely primitive manner." He kicked angrily at the ground. "Please, Luke. I tried my best. It's our only possibility. They wouldn't agree to fight one of the Yuzzem. They don't think of them as intelligent."

  "Either that, or they're not as primitive as you think," declared the Princess.

  "It's not that so much, child, as the fact that it's we humans who are exploiting the surface. So we're the ones who have to prove ourselves before Canu."

  Further discussion was forestalled when the three chiefs abruptly broke off their conversation. One of them-Luke couldn't tell them apart-turned and called something out at Halla. She listened intently, then grinned.

  "It's on. They're willing to abide by Canu's judgment." She turned a concerned gaze to Luke. "I'm an old woman, boy, but like I've told you, I still have a lot of living planned. Don't let me down."

  "You must win, Luke," the Princess said. "If I don't attend that meeting of the underground on Circarpous eventually, our absence is likely to keep them from ever considering joining the Alliance."

  Luke's eyes moved from Halla to Leia. "The Alliance? What about me? Don't let you down. Both of you listen." He tapped his chest and regarded Leia. "It's more important in the end that I go on living than it is for me to make some vague patriotic sacrifice. Or," he continued, facing Halla, "that I get you out of a jam that you should have been able to avoid. You're the one with all the Mimbanian experience."

  "Luke boy-" she started to argue.

  He shut her up with a wave. "Not now. It doesn't matter anymore." He handed the lightsaber to the Princess. "All right... what are the rules? And who do I fight? Let's finish this... one way or the other."

  "You fight," Halla translated laboriously, listening to the chief's words, "until one of you quits, or dies. The word for quit is saen. That doesn't matter, since you've nothing to gain by saying it."

  Luke merely grunted, walked toward the chiefs. The entire crowd was babbling now, apparently in anticipation of the imminent battle. Luke found that despite the coolness he was beginning to sweat.

  The crowd parted and Luke had his first glimpse of the Coway he apparently was going to fight. Some of the tenseness left him. Though broader than he was, the creature was the same height. He didn't appear especially ferocious, either. There were larger Coways in the crowd and more fearsome-looking ones. Yet this modest-appearing specimen was the chosen champion. There had to be a reason, which he was sure to discover sooner than he wished. He examined his opponent guardedly. For its part, the Coway stared back, gave him a profound bow and made an intricate movement with both arms.

  Unable to duplicate the complex ritual, Luke gave the Alliance salute. What sounded like a murmur of approval issued from the crowd. It might also have been their way of saying that he was going to be torn to small furless bits, but he preferred to believe the other.

  The Coway walked past him, stopped on the far side of the pond. "What do I do now?" Luke wondered, calling back to Halla.

  "Walk to this side of the pond and face him," he was told. "When the second chief, that one in the middle with the blue spines sticking out of his collar, drops his right arm, the two of you go after each other." Her voice held no humor now.

  "Do we have to fight in the water?" he inquired worriedly.

  "No one's said so."

  "That's good enough for me." A singularly chilling howl came from the crowd. It was followed by dead silence. The middle chief raised its arm, dropped it with a swipe. Immediately, the Coway started across the pond toward Luke.

  Luke prowled his side of the water, trying to decide what to try. Should he strike at the head or body? It was impossible to detect any obvious vulnerable spot under that gray carpet of fur. Shouts from the onlookers thundered around the cavern walls.

  "Why did you bother to tell Luke the word for quitting," the Princess whispered to Halla, "if he can't gain anything by using it?"

  "I'm hoping he'll get in a tight spot and use it as a last resort," Halla whispered back.

  "But why?"

  "Because it's not the Coway term for quitting. It's a local swear word. Has something to do with parentage, I think."

  Whirling, the Princess gave her a shocked look. "In Alliance's cause, why'd you do that, old woman?"

  "I thought it might do us some good if Luke yells something defiant while that brute is choking the life out of him. We've nothing to lose by it. Luke doesn't either. The Coway admire spirit."

  The Princess was too shocked and disgusted to reply. Her obvious feelings had no effect on Halla. She was staring past her, toward the pond.

  "If we're lucky he'll never have to utter it," she said blithely. "In any case, there's nothing we can do about it now."

  Luke jumped around the edge of the water, trying to get some estimate of his rival's mobility. Either his opponent was too clever to respond, or more likely he just didn't care. The Coway headed relentlessly straight for Luke, splashing and kicking up water in a fine display of indifference to anything Luke chose to do.

  As far as Luke was concerned, the Coway was far too enthusiastic about this contest. Its actions bespoke an assurance Luke couldn't begin to share.

  If he remained where he was, Luke reflected frantically, the Coway would have to come upslope out of the water after him. It would give the worried youth a slight technical advantage. So he stopped moving around, checked his footing, and waited.

  Arms outstretched for an unaffectionate embrace, the Coway charged.

  Luke met directness with directness. As soon as the creature was close, he threw his best punch straight at the onrushing jaw. Maybe the Coway had glass chins. As it turned out the metaphor was inappropriate. The Coway's lower jaw was made of solid granite, not glass. Even so, the force of Luke's blow stopped it. For a second.

  When it came on him again Luke jabbed with his other fist at where the solar plexus would have been in a human. It didn't even slow the Coway. Luke tried to duck and roll under an outstretched arm, but the aborigine was startlingly quick. It grabbed Luke's shoulder and spun him around.

  Luke desperately tried to backpedal, found himself in water. The pond bottom was slippery and he fell backward, landing with a splash. As the Coway threw himself at him, he twisted in fear and found himself on top of his opponent.

&nbs
p; With both hands he tried to force the furry head beneath the water. It wouldn't budge.

  It was rapidly growing clear to Luke why the Coway had selected this slightly smaller version of themselves as their representative to Canu's court. He was lithe and agile and one big piece of muscle under all the deceptively soft-looking fuzz.

  No other rules, he reminded himself. With one hand he hunted hopefully along the slick pond bottom for a rock, for anything solid and smaller than his fist. He encountered only sand, and all the probing unbalanced him. The Coway threw him off and fell on his chest. Unlike the native, Luke found his head easily forced under the surface.

  A few centimeters of water served to turn the roars of the crowd to a muffled echo. He stared upward. Distorted by the water, the batrachian face of the Coway glared down at him. Inexorable pressure held him under with one hand as the native balanced itself with the other.

  Desperately, Luke turned to the right. His mouth bumped against something warm and he bit down hard. With a jerk the Coway pulled its injured member away. Luke's head broke water and he swallowed air gratefully. Like another opponent, the crowd noise assailed him again. Through it he could hear Halla and Leia and Threepio screaming frantic encouragement. Both Yuzzem were hooting deafeningly, while Artoo beeped and whistled loud enough to drown out half the Coways.

  If only Hin were in his place! The Coway above him wouldn't be grinning so easily. As the hand he'd bitten returned and tried to get a fresh grip on his skull, Luke twisted violently and probed with both hands. Fingers searched the creature's flanks, hunting for anything sensitive. Most of the regions Luke wanted to try were out of reach, however.

  Impatient, the Coway brought its other hand over to steady Luke's head so that the right hand could get a firm grip on it. Thus balanced, Luke discovered the water working to his advantage. He heaved and spun. The teetering native went over sideways into the pond.

  Thoroughly soaked and half-drowned, Luke staggered to his feet. He eyed the Coway as it rose again, tried to think of something to attack next. Meanwhile the native lowered its shoulders and charged.