The sentry was the first to find it.
For two days, pieces of the ship had been first covered then revealed again by restless veils of sand that moved ceaselessly after the storm. When the waves settled, the Tribe had scavenged everything usable and edible, hurrying away before the Jawas arrived in their huge traveling machine that scooped up the desert.
With her foot, the sentry brushed away sand from a small, sharp-edged slice of metal. She was bored and fighting to remain alert, for this was the first post entrusted to her alone. She hesitated, her attention caught. Was that a sound? A sound of life? Perhaps an animal had been trapped in the innards of the strange ship and nearly drowned in a throat filling with drifting sand. Or was it possible that the Elders had missed something in the first search? She followed the sound and knelt, clearing away another bit of scorched grey that grew larger as she dug deeper. Between two loose pieces, tented from the dunes by an unplanned shelter, was a half-buried bundle of cloth that twitched like a beating heart. Her own heart racing, she began to clear it free. This was only her second moon of sentry duty and she had found something important, an animal, something the Tribe could eat! She saw herself sitting next to the fire, having First Choice because she'd found it. She clawed at the end of the bundle where it was lodged in sand that was damp and hard and smelled of what the Others used as fuel. She tugged it free and began to unwrap it. It was well-bound, obviously something of value.
It squirmed. A pale round face opened its eyes. They were—
She dropped it.
Its eyes were blue— like the Demon With Sky Eyes. She had run away the night the Demon came with a weapon of Death and Sky and escaped with others, and they hid in the dunes until morning when they staggered through the sand and found another Tribe that had been roused by the screams of her Tribe and the fury of the Demon. When their stories about the massacre were shared and their griefs finally wept out, they joined the new Tribe and began life anew because It Would Be.
Swallowing, she touched it again and bravely picked it up. It was not the Demon. It was a baby. A baby from the Other's species, yes, but it appeared incapable of harm. She shook it hard and it made a tiny squeak. Alive and keeping its spirit, when it should be gone. No wilding had ripped it apart and consumed it. It had appeared like a gift from Her of the Desert. She stood, holding it at the length of her arms, uncertain what to do. Should she kill it? Leave it where it had lain? Would it sprout like a plant? Would it dry into bones like every dying thing or was it a Magic Baby? Or… was it a Demon Baby?
She would not leave it where it was. Magic or Demon or Human, it was her prize. Whether it was alive or dead by the time she returned to camp, it would earn her a front place at the fire. She tucked it into her wrap and squatted in the sand, waiting for the relief sentry to arrive at daybreak so she could return home and claim her reward.
# # #
The Tuskens didn't know what to do with the Magic Baby. One of the women nursed it, nudging it with encouragement until it found a teat and the strength to suckle. It cried, they changed its underwrap and saw it was a boy, and they fed it again. They saw it had a crown of hair, golden like the sky when the suns were high over their heads. They treated it as one of their own for days until it gained strength and was able to cry loudly. But they didn't know what to do with it. They folded its blanket around it and added their own cloth to keep it warm. At night, they sat by the fire and took turns holding it, trading it between them lest it try to bewitch them or turn them into puffs of sand that would disappear by morning.
Sometimes the baby stared at them with interest, its Demon Sky Eyes unfocused. Sometimes it smiled and giggled and made the adults glance at each other, remembering their young ones. The children poked at it, meanly at first to make it squeal, gently after they were scolded. They took turns cuddling as if to make it a pet.
But it didn't fit in their lives. It couldn't be a pet. It couldn't be a baby of the Tribe. It was of the Others. It was Human. They couldn't keep it, but they didn't know what to do with it. They said it was magic because wasn't it only Magic that could keep a baby alive for days in the wreckage of a flying ship? There had been another in the ship, a Human, who had died and become worthless except as food for the desert, though its garments were soft and warm like the blanket of stars that wrapped the baby. Scraps of things too small to be useful were all that had remained around the shuttle, buried under the sand. Had the baby been buried, too, and wriggled itself to the surface? If it was Magic, they had to be rid of it. It could be a danger to them like the Demon. They wanted it gone, but didn't dare kill it for fear that its ghost might return in the night and slaughter them while they slept.
So it was that the Sentry, who was responsible because it was she who had found him, took the Magic Baby and late one night carried it the long distance to the closest dome. When, frightened but dutiful, she started down the stairs, small suns flashed and a loud noise shrieked. She dropped the baby on the steps and fled, racing for the shelter of darkness, never turning back in case she might see the Demon pursuing her.
# # #
The farmer was the first to find it.
When the alarm sounded, he leaped from his bed and grabbed the rifle he always kept next to his pillow, racing into the pit, full of adrenaline and fury and disbelief that a Raider would dare attack their home after there had been peace for months.
Instead of a Tusken, there was a bundle near the top step. Was it a venomous snake, a scorpion, a lizard— or even a bomb fashioned from Jawa scraps? He approached cautiously and poked it with the butt of his rifle. It was soft, which was alarming. Too big for a scorpion, too motionless for a lizard. A snake, then.
"Owen? What is it?"
"Stay back, Beru." With grim determination, he poked the bundle harder, raising his rifle, ready to shoot or pummel whatever monster had been left for them.
The bundle whimpered, then gave a tiny, drawn-out wail.
In disbelief, he slung the rifle over his shoulder and crouched down to push aside the wrappings. They were Tusken wraps, all right, but this was not a Tusken baby. It was pale and pink and—
Its eyes were blue.
"Owen!" At the sound of the little sobs, Beru sprang into action, racing up the steps behind him. "It's a baby!"
"It could be disguising a bomb, be caref—"
She picked it up, cradling it and pushing the rough material away from its face. She began to coo soothingly as only females could, stroking its cheek, resting her forefinger against the little pink mouth that immediately tried to envelop it. "It's hungry." She gave him an accusing look as if somehow this was his fault. "It's cold! I'm taking it inside."
It was pointless to argue with her so he continued up the steps to scan the surroundings with binocs, searching for the sight of Raiders, and found nothing. He re-secured the alarms and returned indoors.
Beru was in the kitchen heating milk while the baby, in its filthy Tusken homespun, lay on their table. "You'll have to go to one of the neighbors first thing in the morning. The Lantons have a five-month-old, they'll have formula. Bring it back here, then go into town, I'll give you a list of what to buy."
"I have work to do. I need to-"
"The baby comes first. Who knows how long it's been lost. It's half-starved."
Lost? "Someone will be looking for it. I'll check in town." Of course someone would be missing it or at least know who it belonged- or had belonged- to. Going into town wasn't such a chore if it meant getting rid of the baby. Because they couldn't possibly keep it.
Unless it had been abandoned.
"Oh, Owen! It's a boy! Bring me soap and a basin. And get one of the towels for me, please, love."
He looked at Beru's face as her hands caressed the child.
"He's cold and dirty, but he's beautiful! Look at this hair, as blonde as my mother's!"
Her sweet smile and brimming eyes broke his heart. When she had lost their daughter at six months along and found she couldn't carry another, he'd been so afraid- not that she would give up because she was strong, but that she might never be happy again.
"Fine," he said gruffly. "I'll message the Lantons to have supplies ready at dawn, then I'll take your list to town." He bent his head to study the infant. Legs, arms- the infant appeared to be intact. "What'll we call him? Until we find his parents," he added quickly, then wished he'd kept his mouth closed because her smile faded and tightened.
"We would've heard if a child went missing," she argued. "Besides, this is a newborn. Who would leave- Oh!"
There was a soft, satin-trimmed blue blanket beneath the rough cloth. It was stained and dirty and torn in places, but it was embroidered with golden stars.
They looked at each other as they shared the same thought. "The shuttle crash." They had seen it on the horizon, but by the time the winds had subsided and Owen had rallied neighbors together to take the long trek to the site, it had already been scavenged. It appeared that a single body had been dragged away, and no one wanted to go after it, remembering what had happened to those who had searched for Shmi. Besides, the amount of dried blood in the sand was confirmation enough that no one had lived through the wreck. "I wonder how the baby survived with those Tuskens. And why they brought him to us."
"He's magical, aren't you honey?" Beru cooed, kissing a flailing fist. "You will be the light of our lives. We'll call you Lukka."
"Luke," he suggested. "Simple. Sturdy. He'll be a farmer. Luke."
"All right, Owen, Luke it is." She sent him a fond smile before turning back to the baby. "But you'll always be my precious Lukka. Now remind Daddy to fetch what I need so I can clean you."
"Uncle," he corrected. This child was neither his blood nor Beru's. "If no one claims him, we will be his aunt and uncle. He had parents even if they are dead. We will not be disrespectful to their memory."
After a moment of thought she nodded. "You're right. Now go!"
