Skywalker's Legacy, page 78

Chapter Thirteen

They made it back to the speeder without further incident, and Rupert gave directions back to the ship once they were out of Mos Eisley. As they skimmed along, Rupert, sitting in back with the Artoo unit, seemed to Han to be even more quiet than usual.

The terrain on this side of Mos Eisley was more rocky and mountainous than the side from which Han and Luke had approached the city earlier, and Han was glad that Luke's attention was back to operating the speeder instead of dwelling on Lippa. But as they rounded a hill, it was Rupert who gave Han cause for concern.

The boy was suddenly staring straight ahead, breathing hard, making a kind of growling noise as he exhaled.

Han ignored the danger of moving around inside a travelling speeder and undid his seat-strap. "Rue!" Han said, maneuvering to where he could take Rupert's face into his hands. "Hey, Rue! Stop weirding-out on me, son! Come on, Rupert, snap out of it!"

Rupert's eyes flicked to his father vaguely, but didn't focus.

Han glanced at Luke, who had stopped the speeder and was now turning around in his own seat. "This is what I was talking about." Han said. "We've taken him to several doctors, but they can't find anything medically wrong with him." He turned back to Rupert, and slapped the boy's cheek . "Stop it, Rue!"

Luke put a hand on Han's shoulder briefly, to intervene, then took Rupert's head with his hands and turned it until Rupert was facing him instead of Han. "What do you see?" he asked gently, touching Rupert at some level other than physical.

"People-things," Rupert said between growl-pants, looking directly at Luke. "Many people-things. Faces strange. Wrapped. Can't see eyes. Try get inside ship. I protect."

"Where?" Luke asked. "Where's the ship?"

Rupert pointed. Luke turned to face forward again and started the speeder going again. "Direct me, Han," he said. "Tell me where he points."

Han looked from his son to his friend uncomprehendingly, but did as Luke asked. "Uh...a little to the left, Luke. Towards that hill. You mind telling me what the Hell's going on?"

"People-things," said Luke. "With strange faces, wrapped so that you can't see the eyes, trying to get inside the ship. Sound familiar?"

Put like that, Rupert's ramblings began to make sense. "Sandpeople?" Han asked. "But how would Rupert know if sandpeople were attacking the ship?"

"I'll explain later. In the meantime, if you can reach behind Artoo, there's a laser rifle stashed in the compartment there."

It took a few minutes to round the last hill between them and the ship, and Rupert's strange behavior grew worse with each passing second. At first, the growl-pants became heavier and deeper, but he was still able to point out the way to Luke, who pushed the speeder to the limits of its abilities. Then, as they rounded the last bend, Rupert suddenly emitted a high-pitched snarl and began shaking his head violently. Han was extremely worried about the boy, but Luke seemed more concerned about getting to the ship in a hurry.

Han wasn't even sure that there were any sandpeople, but as the hill gave way to a view of the Falcon sheltered under the overhang of the next hill, Han could see a dozen or more of the Tusken raiders clustered around the ship. There were even a few banthas waiting nearby.

As Han took aim with the laser rifle, Rupert suddenly screamed, causing him to miss.

"What ?" Han said, looking around.

Luke was already stopping the speeder. "Get the sandpeople!" Luke ordered. "I'll take care of Rupert!"

Rupert lapsed into a whining moan as Han turned his attention, with difficulty, back to the Falcon. One of the sandpeople had raised a laser rifle towards the speeder. Han took aim, and the raider fell back, dead. Another one tried to pick up the rifle, but Han picked him off first. The rest abandoned their attack on the Falcon and ran for their banthas. Han sent a couple of shots in their direction to make sure they wouldn't change their minds, and then turned back to Luke and Rupert.

Rupert was still moaning, but Luke had Rupert's face in his hands again. "You have to separate yourself, Rupert," the Jedi was saying quietly. "You're not the mortu. You're Rupert Solo."

Rupert had his eyes closed tightly, but tears squeezed out between the lids. "He's dying," Rupert whispered.

"I know," Luke said. "But you can't do anything for him. You have to separate yourself. Let go of the mortu."

There was another moment, then Rupert swallowed and opened his eyes. His gaze was clearer as he looked first at Luke, and then to Han, but his cheeks were still wet.

"What the Hell was that all about?" Han asked Luke.

"I'll tell you later," the Jedi promised. "Right now he needs you to hold him and talk to him. Just keep reminding him who he is and where he is."

Han climbed into the back and did as Luke instructed while Luke drove the speeder the rest of the way to the Falcon. Luke parked the speeder, told Han to stay there with Rupert for a few minutes, then left and went inside the Falcon. A moment later, Rupert stiffened in Han's arms, then closed his eyes. When he opened them again a moment later, he was still breathing in gasps, but he nodded. "I'm all right, now," he said, a little shakily.

"What happened, Rue?" Han asked. But Rupert only shook his head in reply.

Luke returned to the speeder. "You can go in now," he said, but he looked sad as he said it.

Rupert shrugged off Han's offer of help and walked to the Falcon by himself. Han followed him up the gangplank. Just inside the door lay the mortu. There was an ugly blaster wound in its side which exposed internal organs that had been hopelessly damaged. On its neck was a small burn mark, just deep enough to reach the carotid artery, a burn-cut which could only have been made by a lightsaber. Han nodded to himself. Luke would make it clean.

Rupert knelt by the dead animal's body and rubbed the fur on its lifeless head. Han thought the boy was going to cry again, but he didn't.

"I want to bury him," Rupert said.

"You can't, son," Han replied quietly. "The ground here is too hard to break without the proper equipment."

"I don't want to leave him for scavengers."

"I'll see if I find some combustibles. We'll build him a pyre instead."

"Should we build one for the sandpeople, too?"

Han glanced at Luke, who shook his head. "We'll just move the bodies away from the ship. They'll come back for their own, but I don't think they'll bother us any more."

"All right," Rupert said.

Rupert stayed with his dead pet while Han collected the materials for the pyre and Luke moved the bodies of the Tusken raiders. Then Rupert carried the animal outside, and the three of them gathered around the pile of combustibles. Rupert gently placed the mortu on top and stepped back. Han drew his blaster and aimed it at the base of the pile. Flames sprang up quickly and engulfed the mortu's body. Rupert watched for a moment, then turned and headed back to the ship.

Han waited until Rupert had gone, then turned to Luke. "It's time to level with me, Luke. What the Hell is going on with Rupert?"

"Han...have you ever heard of the Whills?"

"No," Han replied. "What are they?"

"Actually, you should be asking what were they. And the answer is that no one really knows for sure. But they're believed to have been an ancient race of people who had just discovered space-travel before their world was destroyed by some sort of natural disaster."

"That's nice, Luke," Han said, "but what's it got to do with Rupert?"

Luke explained patiently. "The stories say that among other things, many of the Whills were creature-empaths---natural Force-sensitives with an ability to communicate with lower lifeforms on an empathic level. It's believed that some of the Whills escaped the disaster that destroyed their world and interbred with other humanoid races."

"Let me get this straight," Han said. "You think Rupert is a Whill?"

"Not quite. The Whills have long since died out. All that's left are a few scattered legends, and maybe a few descendants here and there. In fact, there's a theory that all Force-sensitives are descendants of the Whills. But Rupert is a creature-empath, and that leaves us with a problem."

"What's that?"

"He's got to be trained."

Han shook his head in the flickering firelight. "No way. I don't want Lippa going after Rupert any more than you want him going after Brenna."

"Believe me, Han, I know how you feel. But in Rupert's case, there isn't any choice."

"Sorry, Luke, but I don't buy it. I'm not going to jeopardize Rupert's safety just because you want to train more Jedi Knights and don't want to risk your own daughter."

"Han...he's not the first person to display signs of creature-empathy. There have been others over the years. Yoda managed to find a few in time, and was able to train them. He found some others, too, but for them, it was too late."

"What do you mean, 'too late'?"

Luke held his friend's eyes. "They went insane, Han."

Han was stunned. "What?" he said.

"This...particular kind of Force-talent, if it's not developed and understood for what it is, can cause the sensitive to lose his mind. Those 'weirding out' episodes, as you call them, are symptoms." Luke moved around the dying fire and put a hand on Han's shoulder. "On the Whills' homeworld, where there were many creature-empaths, training must have been...a natural part of the maturation process. Once their world was gone and that talent started to appear sporadically, the knowledge that these sensitives even needed to be trained must have disappeared."

Han stared at his friend for a long time. Luke said nothing more, since he had already said everything he could.

Finally, Han looked away, and asked quietly, "Can you do it---train him, I mean? Keep him sane?"

"I think so," Luke replied. "The ones Yoda trained kept their sanity. Rupert is the first creature-empath I've ever encountered myself, but I know the techniques that Yoda used. And when he slipped into that empathic trance with the mortu, he was still reachable." Luke smiled a little. "It may interest you to know creature-empaths generally have a heightened sexual drive. They are also extremely loyal to their friends and families."

"Luke...what happened to the ones that Yoda trained? Where are they today?"

Luke didn't flinch from the question. He gave Han the only answer he could, the honest one. "Darth Vader killed them."

There was a silence. Then Han inhaled a ragged breath. "Maybe you'd...better go see to the girls. I need some time to digest this."

Luke nodded and wordlessly squeezed his friend's shoulder before heading to the speeder. When he had gone, Han remained where he was for a long while. Then he looked back at the Falcon .

How, Han wondered sadly, did one tell one's son that he just became a target for the galaxy's most cold-blooded killer?