Chapter 5 – Christmas Shopping
"Why does every yahoo in the world put off their Christmas shopping until the day before Christmas Eve?" grumbled Brigham. "And drag their kids along so they can snap pictures of them screaming on Santa's lap?"
The mall seemed to be one solid wall of shoppers – scanning lists of items or gift recipients, holding up traffic while they gabbled on cell phones, waving shopping bags around, griping at their kids that Santa wouldn't come to their house if they didn't stop hitting their sisters or get down off that store display this instant. The merry tones of "Sleigh Ride" over the mall's Musak system was nearly drowned out by the shouting and babble and general bedlam, and the magnificent tree and glittering decorations were mostly ignored in the mad rush.
Brigham wasn't exactly a scrooge, but he found that he appreciated the season more when he was away from the commercialistic mayhem. It was hard to remember "peace on Earth, good will toward men" while standing in line at the gift-wrapping counter between an impossibly picky Martha-Stewart-wannabe ("Keep wrapping that box until you get it right!") and an unbelievably rude teenager who, when he wasn't cursing out the slow employees or the world in general, was singing along to the Musak songs and adding his own nasty lyrics.
"Uncle Brigham, can we see Santa?" begged Emma.
"Can we go to the candy store?" pleaded Lexus.
"I wanna buy my presents NOW!" demanded Gideon.
"Can it, kids," he ordered. "I have to do my shopping first."
Somehow Brigham, being the only family member without children of his own to shop for and not having to buy gifts for any of the children in the gift exchange, had gotten drafted into babysitting the lot of them while their parents and the others made their purchases. Not that he minded watching his nephews and nieces most of the time, but around Christmastime, when they were hyper as all get out, he preferred to enjoy them from a good distance. He sighed. At least he wasn't responsible for Trapper or Wendy – Trapper was with his own dad, and Hyrum and Lydia liked to keep Wendy with them, as she had a penchant for wandering off.
"Finally," he murmured thankfully, taking his wrapped package from the gift-wrapping employee. "Now we can go see Santa, then we'll get your guys' presents."
The kids cheered.
As they joined the throng waiting to see the jolly old elf, Brigham took another peek in his shopping bag. He'd somehow managed to draw only adult names in the drawing – Anakin, his own father, and Cody. Anakin had been easy enough to buy for, and his father would certainly appreciate the books he'd bought. But Cody had been the hardest.
Oh, he liked the guy well enough. He was always the life of the party and bursting with information on the no-longer-fictional Star Wars galaxy. But lately their relationship had grown very strained. There had always been religious differences, yes, but never anything beyond gentle ribbing on that note. Ruth's new boyfriend, however, was another story altogether. Cody made no bones about insulting or trash-talking Xizor in front of her and had actually driven her to tears a few times.
Brigham wasn't going to put up with that. He had no great love for Xizor either, but he wasn't going to treat his sister badly because of that. And who knew? The guy might really have changed for the better.
"Having fun yet, Brigham?"
He turned to see Anakin standing nearby, holding two wrapped parcels under one arm.
"Loads," Brigham replied sarcastically. "The time of my life."
"Ah," he noted. "I thought I'd ask your opinion on a matter, if you could spare a moment."
"Sure." He bent to pry London's teeth out of his leg. "Fire away."
"I drew your cousin's name in the gift exchange. I was wondering if you had any idea what she might like for Christmas."
He shrugged. "Beats me. She doesn't have many interests outside Star Wars. She's obsessed with stormtroopers and likes alternative rock, but that's about as much as I know."
"Well, that narrows it down a bit," Anakin replied. "Ah, I see her in the food court. I may simply talk to her and see if I can't get a few ideas."
"Just don't get her a Book of Mormon," Brigham advised. "She's made it clear that she's not about to reconsider joining the church. Besides, I'm sure if anyone else in the family drew her name, she's going to get at least one of those."
"I'll remember that." He swept away, his cloak drifting gently behind him.
"I think at all Star Wars conventions they should have Darth Vader sitting in a chair, and kids should come and sit in his lap and get candy," Gideon announced.
"I'll let the people in charge of Nova-Con know," Brigham replied. Though I have a feeling Trekkies will be admitted to the con for free before anyone takes the suggestion, he thought amusedly.
At long last everyone in their group had taken a turn on Santa's lap and recited their wish lists, and they proceeded to drag Brigham from store to store in their search for gifts for everyone on their own lists.
"I'm gonna get something for you, Uncle Brigham!" Lexus announced. "Don't look!"
So Brigham found himself paying twenty dollars for an item that was promptly bundled in a brown paper bag and tucked securely beneath Lexus' jacket. Well, at least he knew where it had been purchased so he could return it if necessary.
"I'm gonna get Mom a box of candy," Christopher said proudly. "Let's go to See's next!"
"Hey, I wanted to get that for her!" Gideon protested.
"Too late, I said it first," Christopher replied.
At last, exhausted, Brigham handed off his mountain of packages to Austin and Trapper, who had taken the responsibility of transporting presents back to the house. They were at the last stop – a toy store – so the kids could spend some time looking around and dreaming before their parents came to get them.
When I get home, I'm parking my rear in front of a Christmas flick with a plate of cookies and some hot cocoa, he thought. Heaven knows I earned it.
"Uncle Brigham, come quick!"
He dashed down the aisle to where Emma stood, pointing earnestly at an item just out of her reach.
"Can I buy one of those?" she asked.
"No, sweetie, but you can put it on your Christmas list," Brigham replied, relieved that there hadn't been an actual emergency.
"I don't want it for me," she replied. "I wanna get it for Darth Vader."
"You mean Anakin?"
"Yeah." She beamed up at him. "I think it's perfect for him."
Brigham stared at the object, not sure whether to be amused or puzzled at her choice. "That?"
"Uh-huh."
"Exactly that one?"
"Yup."
"For Mr. Skywalker."
"Yup."
"For Christmas."
"Yup."
"Ah." He examined the item again. It wouldn't have been his first choice of gifts for the man. In fact, it probably wouldn't have been in the top thousand. It probably ranked somewhere at the bottom of the list.
"Can I ask why you want to get that for him?"
She tugged on his pant leg, a signal for him to get on his knees. He crouched down and cocked his head to let her whisper in his ear.
When she finished explaining, she grinned at him again. "So can I get it for him? Huh?"
Brigham took a moment to respond, feeling a strange teary sensation in his eyes. "Of course, Emma. I can see why that would be a great gift for him." He gently removed it from the shelf.
"Yay!" She grabbed the item out of his hands and hugged it close. "I wanna wrap it myself when we get home!"
"Here." He wrapped it securely in his coat. "Now let's pay for it and round up your brothers and cousins."
He couldn't help feeling just a little jealous that she'd thought of the gift first. But then, he probably wouldn't have thought of it at all, being an adult. Children had a unique perspective of things. And they never ceased to amaze him with their insights.
Break…
"And Merry Christmas, Mr. Skywalker!" Santa boomed heartily as Anakin passed the man. "Have you been good this year?"
"Mr. Claus, you know I haven't," Anakin retorted with a chuckle.
The white-bearded gentleman laughed. "Take care, sir."
Anakin made his way to the mall's food court, pausing to buy an Orange Julius before beginning his search for Opal. The girl had a talent for making herself invisible when she wanted to be left alone – which was much of the time. Poor girl. It wasn't enough for her to be the wallflower of the family – she had to be the outcast as well.
At last he found her at a table in the far corner, nibbling on something out of a Panda Express box and typing furiously on a laptop computer. Three plastic shopping bags sat next to her chair. So she'd finished her shopping as well. He envied her.
"May I sit here?" he asked, gesturing to the seat across from her.
"Huh? Oh, go ahead."
"What are you working on?" he asked, settling down.
"Book," she replied shortly, as if trying to cut off any conversation before it had a chance to take root.
"What kind of book?"
She looked up at him, wearing an expression of total disbelief. "You really want to know?"
"Of course." He wondered when anyone had last expressed interest in any of her projects.
"It's a historical fantasy," she said, an edge of enthusiasm creeping into her voice. "There are these two soldiers fighting on the island of Iwo Jima in World War II. One's an American boy, the other's Japanese, which makes them enemies. But in the heat of the battle, they tangle in hand-to-hand combat and they're drawn through a rift in space and into a parallel reality…"
He listened intently, enthralled, as she described how these two soldiers had to work together to fend off the dangers of said alternate world, which was as fraught with perils as any battlefield. An eccentric but powerful sorcerer and a mysterious, beautiful woman aided them in their struggles, but for the most part they had to survive and seek a way back to their reality on their own. And as if that weren't enough, Opal had added another layer of intrigue – a hideously wicked magician had created the rift and plotted to take advantage of Earth's instability to invade.
"I haven't got the ending written yet," she confessed. "But you know it has to end somewhat happily, since Earth was never taken over by a black sorcerer during World War II."
"Unless you count Hitler," Anakin replied. "That's a wonderful story, Opal. I'd certainly read a book like that."
"Really?"
"Yes. You should submit it for publication."
A look of terror crossed her face. "NO! I dunno… I mean… it's not that good…"
"Not that good? Opal, you need to have a little faith in yourself. You'll never know if your work's publication-worthy unless you submit it."
She still hesitated.
"I can see that this story's important to you," he went on. "You've probably done a great deal of research for it and worked hard on it. But I'm sure others would like to see the fruits of your labors."
"I know…" she deferred. "It's just… what if no one likes it?"
He smiled and reached across the table to take her hand. "I'll tell you what, Opal. I've been thinking of having an autobiography published. Unfortunately, my talents lie in areas other than writing. Could I hire you as a ghostwriter?"
Her eyes lit up. "Really?"
"Yes. You'll be paid well for your services. And perhaps having some work of yours actually in print will give you the courage you need to submit your other stories."
She nodded. "I'd like that a lot. When can we get started?"
He laughed gently. "After the holidays. For now, perhaps we figure out how this WWII historical fantasy is going to end?"
"Okay."
Some time later, after she'd packed up her laptop and they'd gone their separate ways, he stopped at a final store to pick something up. Talking with Opal had given him an idea.
Break…
Luke spent just a moment listening to the musicians performing on the street corner before moving on. The three Kings, Wise Men, Magi, whatever they were called – yet another Christmas tradition that he had yet to investigate. From what he'd been told, they were the holy men who had visited Christ as a baby, but that was all he knew.
Then again, he wasn't here to investigate the holiday, tempting as that option was. At least he'd actually get somewhere in that search, even if it wasn't exactly productive.
He'd spent the day walking through the streets of Salt Lake, questioning anyone he thought could be a likely source of information – police officers, vagrants, gang members, teenage punks, bartenders, anyone who might have an ear tuned for what was going on under the radar. So far, the only promising bit of information he'd acquired was that the local troublemakers were frustrated that some "outer-space" gang was invading their turf. That and that Utah possessed rather bizarre liquor laws.
That "outer-space" gang sounded like Black Sun to Luke – especially when a young homeless woman had taken him into a back alley and shown him some suspicious-looking gang graffiti. The flaming black orb gracing the brick wall there was suspiciously reminiscent of Black Sun's insignia. According to the woman, blaster-toting offworlders had been leaving marks like this throughout the city, roughing up any who got in their way. She herself had encountered them no less than three times, though she'd been lucky enough to avoid injury so far.
"Any idea where I can go from here?" he'd asked her, not really expecting an answer.
To his surprise she'd directed him to Utah's Main Street, telling him to be there at three o'clock sharp if he wanted hard evidence. She wouldn't state where she'd gotten her information, and she finished her advice with a frantic "You didn't hear it from me!" before bolting.
Luke turned a corner to find himself on Salt Lake City's Main Street. A wrought-iron arch with a soaring eagle curved over the street. He checked his wrist-chrono – two fifty-seven. He'd made it on time. Now to see if that young woman's information panned out.
Right on schedule a Rodian strolled down the street, pausing beneath the arch and pretending to leaf through a "Salt Lake Tribune." He was heavily bundled in a worn jeans jacket – too heavily bundled. It looked to Luke as if he had objects stuffed up his sleeves.
Two other offworlders joined him, trying too hard to act nonchalant. One was a human woman, her hair styled in a classic Corellian braid and a cybernetic enhancer over one eye. The other was an emaciated, almost skeletal Trandoshan with vibrant blue scales. He leaned over and hissed something to the Rodian, and the woman pulled a small holoprojector from her pocket. A miniaturized image of the eagle arch materialized from the projector.
Luke figured now was the time to act. He pulled the hood of his jacket up and inched closer, hoping to catch a snippet of conversation.
"…gonna have a helluva time gettin' them on it," the Rodian grumbled.
"Shuddup," the woman ordered. "We aren't getting paid to gripe."
"Gonna need two for that one," the Trandoshan observed. "One on each side. We'll do it at night when no one's looking. We'll need Shaggy's help – the Wookie's used to climbing."
"We're already using five on the temple," the woman pointed out. "We'll run out before we have them all planted!"
"I can always get more," the Rodian volunteered. "My supplier's got plenty."
It didn't take much imagination to figure out just what they were planning to plant. Luke stepped forward, flashing a Republic badge.
"Jedi Knight Luke Skywalker," he announced. "Sorry to break up this party, but I'm afraid you're all under arrest."
The woman hurriedly flicked off the holo, and the three of them glared at him threateningly.
"What are you doing here?" snarled the Trandoshan.
"Why else?" the Rodian snapped. "He found that street trash. I told you we should've snuffed her and shut her up instead of paying her off!"
"Shut up!" the woman growled.
"He's free to talk all he wants," Luke assured her. "But he also has the right to remain silent."
The look in all three of their eyes was quite obvious – they knew they outnumbered him three to one. If they could overpower him, they could escape.
Obviously they'd never taken on a Jedi.
The Trandoshan came at him first, claws extended. Luke grabbed both bony wrists with his hands and drove his foot into his gut. The reptilian alien collapsed, wheezing, and he released him to fend off the attack of the other two. Dodging the Rodian's knife-hand, he seized the alien's collar and flung him into the wall, then drew his lightsaber and slashed back and to the right, cutting the woman's drawn blaster in half. A well-placed blow to her knee knocked her down.
Sirens ripped through the air, and two police cruisers shrieked to a halt close by. He extinguished his blade and assisted the officers in cuffing and searching the dazed gangsters.
"Master Jedi, I think you should see this."
One officer had stripped the Rodian of his coat, and Luke could now see the bags of deadly ion charges strapped to his arms and torso. He was wearing enough explosives to demolish an entire city block.
"I'll handle the explosives," he informed the officer, untying the bags. "Take him down to the station. I'll be down to question him after I dispose of these."
"Yes, sir."
The cruisers departed. Luke peered into one bag with an involuntary shiver. Black Sun's intentions were lethally clear now.