Black Widow
by Elizabeth Stuart
Yeah, you're right-- it's later. Do you remember which story I said I'd tell you? There are so many...
Luke was something else during the war years. He'd give people that who-innocent-little-me? look and they'd fall all over themselves for him. Like once, I remember on Hoth-- just before I had to go out and rescue his frozen tail-- I come cruising into Com Central, Rieekan barely acknowledges me-- ME, who'd just spent two hours freezing my own tail to place his damn markers-- and says: Has Commander Skywalker checked in yet?
Uh-huh. And the next year, me and the crew are saving everybody's butts on Endor, knocking out the damn generator, blowing up the shield, and what are the first words Madine transmits? Congratulations, Solo, is Skywalker all right? It gets worse: He's not with us, I say. So what happens? Mothma gets on the horn--Where is he, is he injured, has he been captured-- you get the drift. I swear, that kid scorched a trail through the command staff, up one side and down the other. It's a wonder any of them had energy left to fight the enemy! And then after the Rebellion, when the new senate was first appointed and he--
Oh, these aren't the stories you wanted? Well, what then? His collection? There's not much to say about it...except what got him interested. Are you sure you want to hear-- ?
All right, all right. Never thought I'd have to go through this whole tale again, but here goes. It was after the war-- awhile after the new senate and Luke's, er, confirmation interviews with them-- that he met the woman.
There was something familiar about her. At first Luke thought that she reminded him of someone-- Leia, perhaps, with the haunting dark eyes. But Chadra's eyes weren't brown, they were black pools he wanted to dive into--he wanted to rub their liquid all over his body. Then he decided that the feeling wasn't true remembrance, but the knowledge that he had been waiting for her, that on a subconscious level he had known she would come into his life.
In the weeks since she'd arrived, they'd grown close, though much about her remained a puzzle to him. She was a biogeneticist and spent most of her time exploring the forests of Yavin. Selfishly, he wished he could sense the Force in her; she could be the first student in his proposed academy and then they would never have to be apart. As it was, he spent long days without her; in the evenings she clung to him, reluctantly drawing away when night fell.
He wanted to bed her; she was willing-- eager, if the truth be told. But there had been too many women in the last few years. Chadra was different, special; she was not like the others. Chadra was virginal-- she was the woman with whom he would bond, the woman who would bear his children.
He wanted to talk to someone more knowledgeable about these things, but only Han came to mind, and Han had very strange ideas about Luke's sex life. They bore little relation to reality, but Luke was loathe to disillusion his cosmopolitan friend. True, Han was showing signs of wanting to settle down with Leia, but the old restlessness still burned within him. Luke felt obligated to allow Han to live vicariously through his supposedly wild and varied sexual adventures. In a way, he considered it a public service.
Perhaps it would be best if he spoke with Chadra directly. That evening, while she nestled in the curve of his arm, nearly as out of breath as he was, he decided to broach the subject of bonding-- plus, he needed a break from these juvenile necking sessions that were so frustrating. He stroked her thick black hair, stretching the curls through his fingers. When he released them, they sprang back into ringlets.
"Why do you not wish to make love with me, Luke?"
It felt as though she'd plunged a dagger into his heart. "I do, I do! But... it wouldn't be right. Chadra, let's get bonded. I want you to be my mate for always. To have children with you."
"Oh, I want to have children, too, Luke!" she said eagerly, sitting upright on the sofa. "Let us begin now! What is this 'bonding' we must do first?"
"You don't have bonding on Badega-Fe, do you?" He wished he knew more about her home planet. The farthest Outer Rim world, it remained something of a mystery to scholars. Its atmosphere was turbulent, too severe for normal space travel, and thus far no team of scientists or researchers had been interested in braving the conditions and being marooned on an unknown world for the period of years necessary to study it thoroughly. Chadra was the first Badega-fean anyone here had met, and her standard human appearance had been unexpected.
"You must have some kind of mating ritual, a formalizing of the relationship?" he asked cautiously. "Bonding is when a man and a woman choose to mate and spend their lives together."
"Yes, we do that, but there is no name for it." Chadra rubbed her fingers down his arm. "Can we do this bonding now?"
He laughed easily. "I wish we could. It's a formal ceremony. We need our kin here-- but you won't have anyone. I'm sorry, Chadra. Would you like to wait until your family can come?"
"Not particularly," she said sweetly, but with a glimmer of ice under her words. "Why must we have this bonding first? Can you not mate properly without it?"
Her awkward use of Galactic enchanted him. He nuzzled his lips against her forehead. Her skin was cool and white. "My Aunt Beru pounded into me the advisability of bonding before mating. It's considered proper."
Her brow creased with concern. "My poor Luke, did it hurt terribly, this pounding?"
"Not until years later," he replied dryly. "Can we change the subject? I find this one very... hard to continue. And I have a lot of questions to ask. There is much I don't know about you."
"One question." She laid a single digit across his mouth. "Only one, then we will match lips again."
He would probably have a coronary if they continued this lip-matching. "One? All right... your name. Does it have a particular meaning in your native language?"
"My name? Oh... Chadra!" She smiled impishly at him and pulled her legs up to the cushion, crossing them. He averted his eyes. "It is difficult to translate... The closest might be 'Lonely Mother'."
"Lonely Mother?" he echoed. "That's very..." Strange was what he wanted to say, but settled for: "Lovely."
"Thank you." She beamed at him. "I believe so also. And your name, may I ask what it means?"
"Luke means 'Light'."
"Light? Oh." Her rosy mouth pursed in apparent disapproval. "Still, your other name is pleasant. Sky Walker. I like that. Some of my people are sky walkers."
"Really," he responded vaguely. He hadn't the slightest idea what she was talking about. It didn't matter; the sight of her thighs in those tight pants were all that was important right now. If they didn't get bonded soon, he would lose his mind... or another precious part of his anatomy would rot away from disuse.
As if sensing his interest, she uncrossed her legs and rose, stretching with sensual pleasure. She swayed around the room, her fingers trailing gently over his possessions. She picked up the holo base and caressed it. "What is this?"
Luke swallowed and ran two fingers around his collar. "It's a holo projector, used to display memories of loved ones. Here, I'll show you." It was an excuse to be at her side. He opened his tray of disks and selected one. "You hold the base still." Wrapping his arms around her, he slid the holo in the slot. "Watch."
After a momentary shimmer, the image appeared. It was a jolt to see Biggs grinning back at him. He hadn't looked at the disk in years; why did it have to be this one he pulled out? "Let me get another-- "
"No, no, I like this." She leaned her head back, resting it against his chest. "Is this a real person?"
"It's an image of someone I used to know." Grief lingered, no longer as sharp and painful as a sword, but grating against his soul like a dull knife. "He died several years ago."
"I am sorry for your sadness." Chadra removed the disk and turned to face him, holding it between them. Her eyes seemed to probe into his heart. "You were fond of this one."
"Yes. He was a good friend." Coloring, he snatched the holo away and tossed it casually back in the box, as if it were of no importance. It had been years since he'd allowed himself to think of his relationship with Biggs. Not since that aborted affair with old General Dodonna, in fact. Now there was a name he hadn't considered in a very long time. He and Dodonna had made their peace, after a fashion, and Luke had finally heard what he divined to be the truth about his father: that Dodonna hadn't been Anakin's closest friend, but merely an acquaintance, an observer. So the intimate stories were fabrications, a means of seducing a foolish young man.
Not that it mattered now. As far as Luke was concerned, Anakin Skywalker's reputation had been shot to hell when he turned out to be Darth Vader.
Chadra shivered. He looked down, concerned. She was so delicate, so fragile, so... fine. "What's wrong? Are you cold?"
She leaned against him, pressing the length of her slender body against his aching one. "It is the feeling I have when you think of the Dark One."
The randomness of her telepathic abilities made him nervous. If she had the Force, they could be controlled, but without it they seemed to roam free, arbitrarily selecting thoughts to overhear. "I'm sorry."
"Not to be! Such feeling is not unpleasant." She took his hand and drew him back to the sofa. "We must talk seriously about this bonding. My people have customs to obey if we are to mate."
"I thought you said you didn't have any rituals."
"Only that there was no name for it. But there are certain rules which must follow."
"All right. Let me have it."
Chadra giggled. "Not yet, Luke!"
He smiled. "Right. So what are the rules?"
"There is only one of most importance. I hope it will...happy you." She folded her hands in her lap and cast her gaze downward. "Among my people, I am special. I am twinned, and that is very unusual for us."
"Twinned?" he echoed.
"You know what is twin? Like you and Leia," she explained. "My twin must... approve, I think is the right word... about you."
Well, that wasn't too difficult. Though if he thought much about it, he might become nervous. "But your twin is on Badega-Fe. Won't it be-- "
"No, Chadran is here."
"She is?" A flicker of suspicion crossed his mind. If they were twins... But, no, Chadra wouldn't play tricks on him.
"Yes. You mate first with Chadran to win approval. And me," she added with a teasing laugh.
He tried to cover his shock by coughing. "Excuse me. Uh... I don't think I understand."
"Which part?" She tilted her head in that beguiling way, and he was reminded of the first time he saw her in halls. She had been talking rapidly, surrounded by a group of students; when she saw Luke she'd turned away from them without another word and walked directly to him.
Luke sighed resignedly. "I have to mate with your twin first?"
"Yes."
"But-- "
"You wish to do this bonding with me?"
"Yes, but-- "
"Then you mate with Chadran first." She folded her arms and stared impassively at him.
How much of a hardship could it be? In fact, the idea was beginning to appeal to him. So Chadran was for dallying while Chadra was for bonding. A grin began to creep across his face. Aunt Beru would have scolded him, but the idea was extremely appealing. "I suppose I can put aside my scruples long enough to...er, mate."
"Good. I will fetch Chadran."
"Now?" He stood as she slid off the sofa, following her to the door. "What's the rush?" he asked plaintively. Nerves began to flutter against his throat, and he swallowed past them.
"You wait here," she said sternly. "I will bring Chadran to you."
By the time a firm tap sounded on his door, his nerves were ragged. He yanked it open. A tall man stood there-- Biggs? Luke blinked several times. Not Biggs, but there was an uncanny resemblance. Dark hair, dark moustache, desert-tan skin.
"Yes?" he asked politely, privately cursing the holo that would make him see Biggs in every mustachioed-man on Yavin.
A smile curved the wide lips. "I am Chadran."
Dumbfounded, he could do nothing but stare. Impossible! And not fair-- he'd been conned! Still, Chadra had compared her twinship with him and Leia; it was only his preconceived notion-- or lust-- that had painted a mental image of a second voluptuous Chadra.
"Come in," he said finally.
Chadran entered and followed him across the room. When Luke stopped, the other man held out his hands. "We mate now."
He wanted desperately to laugh, but feared he would be mocking their customs. "We talk now," he said firmly. "Have a seat." He gestured to the opposite chair, while he returned to the sofa.
Chadran ignored his direction and joined him on the lowslung couch. "How does your species continuate with all talking and no mating? It is as though talking is a form of reproduction," he grumbled.
Luke hid his grin. "Can I offer you a beverage?"
"Beverage is not necessary. Is talking completed?"
"Talking has not yet begun."
Chadran scowled. "Complete talking, then mate!"
Luke leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Chadran, it is your sister with whom I wish to mate. She told me that it is tradition on your planet that first I must... must... have sexual intercourse with her twin."
The Biggs clone appeared puzzled. "What is this 'sexual intercourse' you speak of?"
Great. Terrific. Wonderful. Would he have to explain-- ? Then he felt considerably cheered. Perhaps 'mating' and 'sex' weren't the same in their society.
On second thought, what would be so wonderful about that?
He twisted his hands together. "It's, uh, when we, uh, get naked and touch each other all over."
Chadran threw back his head and laughed, the sound rich and full just like Biggs's had been. "Insertion to make babies, you mean! That is sexual intercourse?"
"Yeah, insertion," he agreed with a resigned sigh. "So what is 'mating'?"
The laughter stopped abruptly. "You do not know?"
"Well..."
"It is the same. Insertion. For babies."
He supposed love became involved at some point, but didn't feel ready to try translating that idea. He also supposed that he was going to end up with a hell of a lot of children, since the only two Badega-Feans he'd met equated sex with baby production. "Oh."
"Good. You understand. Talk complete." Chadran stood and pulled his tunic over his head. "I believe your species requires removal of all exterior robing?" He sat back on the sofa and began tugging at one boot. "Most difficult. Your assistance is required."
"Chadran, wait." Luke rubbed his forehead. How could he explain his feelings to this man who had trouble with the most basic Galactic phrases? Especially when he couldn't explain his feelings to himself.
Maybe it was time he did.
"I need to think for awhile. Would you-- "
"I will wait in baby den. But first assist with foot coverings. They are not of comfort."
What the hell was a baby den? He didn't think he wanted his suspicions confirmed. But he couldn't leave a man in pain, and one thing he did know was how uncomfortable those damn boots could be. So he straddled Chadran's leg, raised the boot and began tugging. "Push your other foot against my butt," he ordered.
"Ah. This is part of mating ritual?"
"No, this is getting your boots off."
The task was eventually accomplished and he watched wordlessly as a totally nude Chadran climbed up to his sleeping loft. "The baby den," Luke muttered. "Figures."
He poured himself a mug of kaffa, wrapping his fingers around it, absorbing the heat. He hadn't thought of his youthful relationship with Biggs in a very long time. Except for a single, desperate encounter with Dack, Biggs had been the only man he had been intimate with. It was absurd, really, that he had such unnatural reservations. Relations between the sexes was a normal function. He was the only person he knew who felt guilty about it. Why?
He carried the kaffa into the living area and sank into the sofa's thick cushions, tilting his head back. He closed his eyes and let his emotions drift, sinking into a light trance. Perhaps the truth was closer to the surface than he wanted to admit. Biggs loved him, Biggs died for him. Biggs had paid the price for his love.
Luke Skywalker's love demanded the ultimate payment.
Ridiculous. He couldn't believe that. Biggs died in a battle, destroying the Death Star, fighting for the Rebellion he had strongly supported. That he'd died while saving Luke was a coincidence.
And Dack, clinging to life after their ship was hit, had been crushed to death by the giant foot of an Imperial Walker.
Luke grimaced and tossed his head restlessly. He'd tried to get Dack out, but the harness buckles jammed when they'd crashed and the Walker was bearing down and there wasn't enough time, not enough time--
And Dack paid the price.
Ben and Beru and Owen all died because of him.
His father died to save him.
What was he thinking of, daring to love Chadra? Did his love automatically condemn her to an early pyre?
But look at everyone who lived: Leia, Han, Wedge, his friends among the old Rebellion leaders. If he followed his morose chain of thought to its completion, they all would have died, too. He had been ready to sacrifice himself for his friends on more than one occasion. Death was the ultimate price of love, but it wasn't demanded; it was freely offered. Years ago, he should have examined this feeling; it was long past time to begin.
He didn't want to spend his life with guilt as his only companion. Too easily, it converted into anger; too easily, he could slide into the Dark, then everyone's sacrifices would have been in vain. Though their deaths had been their decisions, he couldn't deny the responsibility they left with him. Pass on what you have learned, Yoda had said. It was time he did that. With his children.
A smile touched his lips and his lashes lifted. He and Chadra would have beautiful babies, bright, Forceful youngsters. Ebon-haired, blond, or a mixture of the two? He visualized sets of serene blue eyes and untamed black ones.
Dreaming was fine, but it didn't get the job done. Jedi Skywalker had to walk into the baby den and do his thing with Chadra's brother before he was allowed to bond and baby-make. If only Chadran didn't look so much like Biggs.
Or maybe that would make it easier.
Afterwards, he waited for a verdict. Was the bestowing of Chadra based upon his physical performance or something else? Do I get the job? he wanted to ask, but settled for a diplomatic: "Will I be a suitable mate for Chadra?"
Chadran laughed. "Chadra-- Chadran, matters not. It is done."
"What do you-- " He choked on his words as the man lying next to him developed a transparency to his flesh. Luke blinked and rubbed his eyes, but the transparency remained. Then, gradually, as if he was watching a mutant plant grow and develop, Chadran became Chadra. He sat up and stared at the body. It was definitely, gloriously, female. But just minutes ago, hadn't he made love to a male? "You're... your people are... morphs?"
Chadra giggled. "Another funny word. You talk strangely, Luke." She ran her fingernails lightly down his chest. "I can shapechange, if that is what you ask, but it is a rare ability. Since you were unable to mate with me in the body of your female, I used the form you preferred."
He snatched his hand away from her breast. "I didn't prefer-- I wasn't unable-- I wanted to mate with you, but-- "
"You would not. Forgive deception I used? It was necessary."
"Excuse me." Luke eased out of bed, miffed. "Chadra, is this your normal form? Or is the male Chadran?"
"Chadran is... deception... you understand?" She patted the mattress. "We mated. Come finish."
Against his better judgment, he sat gingerly on the edge of the bed. Her hand curved around his thigh. "Chadra..." Would a declaration of love be insincere? Could he still love her if she existed in an alien body? Or could his love be so shallow and weak that he could not? He stared down at the hand, watching it change.
"I can be this one, if you prefer."
He lifted his eyes. It was another male, but no one he recognized. "I don't know you," he whispered.
Her voice-- his voice-- was deep and rich. "It is the Dark One you think about."
Luke flinched and turned his head away. "No. It's not possible that you can--"
"From your mind. A memory of the Dark One, long ago."
He studied the face again. It bore some resemblance to the ghostly figure he had seen several years earlier, in the glade on Endor. A younger version of the face of Anakin Skywalker. But 'a memory from long ago'?
Could his father have been with him during his babyhood? Was that a remembrance that had been hidden in his mind for twenty-odd years? He committed the face to memory, then shook his head. "The Dark One was my father."
"Father?"
"The one who sired me," he said tiredly.
"Oh, the sperm delivery system!"
Luke laughed, half in despair, half in amusement. "The sperm delivery system, right. Is that all a male is to you?"
Chadran morphed back. "It is of most importance, the sperm delivery. Without it, our species would be extinct."
"Wouldn't we all."
"Indeed. Luke-- " Chadran's hand squeezed his leg. "We have no Jedi on Badega-Fe. We had Jedi in the past, in the olden days, before memory of those alive today. We need Jedi."
"No!" His denial was instinctive. To be used as a Jedi-making machine, to spawn babies who would be half-human and half-- what? He still didn't know what he/she/it looked like. "I can't just... make Jedi babies for you."
"You already have."
He looked at Leia. She smiled her familiar smile, and his protests died. Impulsively, he did what he had wanted to do for years--he kissed her. His tongue duelled gently with hers then, shamed, he drew back.
If Badega-feans had no concept of male/female, then this thing could be telling the truth; he could have just fathered a new race. "Does your name mean Lonely Mother, too?"
"Too?" Chadran repeated, smiling. "There is only one name. We are Lonely Mother. The translation is not quite accurate, but is best I can manage in your words."
"So your people are all Lonely Mothers. The sperm delivery system, too?"
Chadra looked at him with a horrified frown. Now he wondered if her human facial expressions really matched what she was thinking. "Oh, no! Sperm deliverers are... things. They exist to serve their purpose."
As Han would say, he was getting a bad feeling about this. "What happens to them after they deliver sperm?" he asked suspiciously.
Anakin smiled. "Then the reason for their existence is no longer." His fingers pierced Luke's thigh.
In a curious fog, he looked down. Those weren't fingers at the end of that arm; they were more like...barbs? He tried to pull his leg away, but it was held firm. He took a deep breath to clear his head, then in one movement jerked loose and stood. There was a flash of pain as his skin tore, but he focused past it. His lightsaber flew into his hand, igniting as he curled his fingers around the hilt.
Darth Vader breathed harshly, steadily. "You can't kill your own father, Luke."
His words thrown back at him. "Stop it, Chadra."
Biggs's dark eyes pleaded with him. "Wait for me, Luke-- wait!"
He was crying but his face was dry and he was totally calm. The arms grew longer, becoming covered with sharp barbs that reached for him. Luke stood paralyzed, unable to back away as the arms hugged him painfully, a dozen knifes piercing his flesh. A sticky substance flowed onto his bare torso, and the feel of it shook him awake. He lifted the saber and sliced off Biggs's arms. The creature-- Biggs no longer, but something less-- screamed silently. A shriek reverberated through his head. For a moment, Chadra looked at him, her face a mask of disbelief/Anakin's mouth open in pain/Leia's eyes wet/Chadran's body contorted/Biggs dying in his embrace. A huge arachnid drooped to the floor, its legs wobbling and giving out. Two severed limbs began to shrivel. Steam poured from the torso. He must have punctured an internal organ.
Luke deactivated his saber and dropped to his knees. "Chadra?" he called, but there was no sign of her. Except, perhaps, in the black depths. He sat back and covered his eyes, asking what he'd been asking all his life: Why? He forced his gaze back to the spider. "I didn't mean to kill you," he whispered, certain that was the truth. A deeply-buried instinct in him hated spiders, hated the way they'd crawled into his boots and slid under his shirt on Dagobah. What he'd done to Chadra was self-defense, he couldn't have avoided it. He'd only meant to disarm her-- He laughed helplessly. Well, he'd done that, all right. And more.
The body was shriveling, the remaining arms-- legs?-- curling into themselves. Luke reached around to wipe the webbing from his back, but it smeared with his blood, and his fingers stuck together. He wiped them on his pants, stomach queasy. The central body was crumbling into tiny black motes. As he watched, the entire shell desiccated; all that remained was a dark dust. The housekeeper would think he was terribly untidy.
There was a small white sac on the floor. He eyed it with revulsion; he knew what it was. He stood and activated his lightsaber. They would have to die. No one, him least of all, understood what this species was capable of doing. And if these were half-human--
The thought made him gag. He pointed the tip of the saber at the sac. Something coursed through the Force, almost like...words. Luke tipped his head, straining to hear. Someone needed him-- Leia? Han? Wedge? The sounds became clearer.
muuah muuah
mudda mudder mother mother
mother mother Mother! MOTHERMOTHERMOTHERMOTHERMOTHERMOTHERMOTHER
He inhaled sharply and switched off the saber. Mother? Oh, sweet Maker-- The tiny voices began to keen and whimper, calling urgently. He couldn't prevent himself from responding.
What's wrong, little ones?
MOTHERMOTHERMOTHERCOLDMOTHERMOTHERMOTHERCOLDCOLDMOTHERCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLDCOLD
Frantic, he dropped to his knees and curled his fingers under the sac, pulling the stickiness away from the floor. He cradled the small bundle in one hand and tucked it against his chest. After a few seconds the voices began to coo happily, crooning one word:
MotherMotherMotherMotherMotherMotherFATHER!MotherMotherMotherMotherMotherMotherMotherMotherMother
He sent soothing feelings into the sac and pulled it up higher on his chest, letting them rock gently with the rhythm of his breathing. FATHER! a single voice repeated demandingly.
I am here, youngling.
A strong wave of contentment swept through the Force. Iyam heeya, the voice repeated. I am here, Luke said, enunciating clearly. I am your father.
Father. I am here.
He needed data. Very carefully, as smoothly as he could move, he climbed down from the loft and crossed to the computer terminal. Using his free hand, he punched into the Central Library and called up all the available information on the care of arachnids.
While he waited, he thought to get a thick towel from the bathroom; maybe it would aid in keeping the babies warm. He reached for it on the rack, but his reflection in the mirror made him stop in mid-motion.
Rationally, he knew this was Luke Skywalker. But it was a Skywalker he'd never seen. The eyes were brilliant, shining, the mouth wide with a delighted smile; he looked feverish, excited. Happy.
The most amazing thing was that he felt exactly like he looked.
...so after the lady turned into a spider, Luke had to kill it--he didn't have a choice, it had him in its web and was going to-- I dunno, eat him probably. But you know Luke. He can't let anything alone. He has to worry everything to death. He always feels an obligation to amend for his perceived wrongs. Drives me crazy-- yet it touches me. I want to tell him to stop, that he doesn't have to right all the wrongs in the galaxy-- but who I am to say that? If it's what he feels he has to do, so be it.
But this spider business is carrying things too far. After the Chadra-spider died, he did some research and started a collection. Now he's got an entire sith-be-damned room for the things! He had it built special for them-- couldn't expect them to live in a box, he said, can't have them running around my rooms, someone might step on them! Hey, kid, it's been done before! That's what you do with spiders-- you squish them between your toes!
You're right, I wouldn't say that to his face. But I did say "Shit, you may as well SLEEP with them!" to which he replied (I felt like a chump when he took me seriously) "I might roll over and hurt them". Man, oh man. Like I was saying, he's got this room and he goes into it (very carefully-- and with no shoes), sits down, and the spiders start creeping all over him. They run up and down his arms and legs, crawl into his hair-- ugh, I can hardly talk about it, let alone watch it! Doesn't bother Luke, though.
But the weirdest thing is that one spider. It's bigger than the others and doesn't crawl on him the way they do. It sits up on a shelf, always somewhere high, and it waits while the others "play" ('least Luke calls it playing!). Eventually, when the others get tired and ramble off, Luke holds out his hand, and that big spider jumps into it. Then they just look at each other. Sometimes it touches his cheek with one leg and rubs for awhile. I swear, they're having conversations-- or Luke's singing lullabies to the Maker-forsaken thing! Damned if I'll ask-- this is getting too creepy for me. And once-- promise not to tell anyone-- once I dropped in unannounced (last time I'll do that!) and I'm almost sure I saw that spider changing... well, it looked like it wasn't a spider anymore. Like it was... I don't know, something else. Neither of them saw me, and I backed out real quick. Weird, huh?
I guess those are my personal prejudices, though. Luke seems happy enough-- about time, too. I just wish he'd get a mate and family of his own, so he wouldn't be spending all his spare time with crawlies. I was thinking maybe that new xenoentomologist-- they'd have a lot in common, right? And she's a looker.
What d'you think, should I introduce them?
End