Star Wars: A Galaxy Not Their Own (8/33)
Star Wars: A Galaxy Not Their Own (8/33)
Rating: T for teen, involves canon level of violence
Spoilers: Spoilers for the movies and some minor EU references.
Summary: Stranded in the future, Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon struggle to work together to complete a mission for the New Republic.
[Included Pairings]Pairings: Obi-Wan/OFC, if you squint hints of Anakin/Obi-Wan pre-slash
Disclaimer: Most of the Star Wars universe belongs to George Lucas, Twentieth Century Fox and Disney - I'm not quite sure but it's definitely not me. This author uses these works without permission and for non-profit purposes.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
Emalda swept her hair into a ponytail and forced her heartbeat to slow. She was not yet inside the Tscoruh Bar but already the loud music was verging on the point of pain. The rotund Kuhd security guard, Crose, who had escorted her from the spaceport, seemed unbothered by it. The Kuhdren were a scaly humanoid species with poor eyesight and dull hearing but a spectacular sense of smell. The newly settled world of Wefhuk was not the Kuhd home world but they made up more than half of the population of settlers. Many of the bars catered specifically to Kuhd sensibilities by spraying scented smoke and playing loud music with deep tones that could be felt through vibrations in the floor - some of them even had floors specially designed to transmit the vibrations to the patrons. The establishment which Emalda was queuing outside of was not quite that sophisticated. It was not Wefhuk’s trendiest bar but Emalda didn’t need it to be.
A small cloak room by the front door doubled as a waiting room for escorts. Tradition demanded that no Kuhd should enter a public doorway unless escorted by a Kuhd warrior. In theory, both men and women needed to be escorted by a trained warrior but in practice, mostly women were escorted by male acquaintances. It wasn’t that the males were acting as chaperones - the escorts had no responsibility or duty to control or even monitor the behaviour of their charges. They were only required for the scant seconds it took for their charges to enter or exit the doorway. Kuhd superstition held that doorways and thresholds were dangerous places frequented by spirits. Some of the spirits were benevolent but many were angry and thought to strike out indiscriminately at those that passed. The Kuhd-dominated government of Wefhuk genuinely felt they would be negligent unless they provided interplanetary visitors with the same level of protection they afforded their own. So, several Spaceport Security officials were designated as official escorts and were on standby to accompany offworlders to any locations they wished to visit.
Emalda might have been more sympathetic to the practice if it were applied equally to men and women. She had threatened to strike out into the city alone until Qui-Gon had insisted they respect Wefhuk’s laws and traditions while they were on the planet. Hence, officer Crose had become her unwelcome and perpetually bored shadow. As she passed her entry fee to the female bouncer at the door, Crose readjusted his belt around his ample waistline and huffed impatiently. He watched her closely until she had both feet over the threshold. Then he nodded in satisfaction and ambled off to the waiting room. His departure made her a fraction calmer but not much. She had not been in a bar of any sort for many years; towards the end of her time on Ekara, the army had begun to greatly restrict her movements.
She stood still for a moment to take her bearings. All of the bars she had ever visited had been full of Ekash with the occasional human visitor. This time there were many different alien species, most of which she'd never seen before. She pulled her jacket tighter, covering her nervously twitching tail. She moved towards the bar, bumping shoulders with the other patrons. It was early yet and though the tables were packed, the bar itself was relatively clear. She claimed a bar stool recently vacated by a Kuhd wearing so much perfume Emalda’s nose hairs were burning.
There were only two bartenders behind the bar, a human woman and a blue-skinned twilek. Emalda waved and the human walked towards her. She was blonde and heavyset which probably owed more to age and hard work than it did natural tendencies. Hard lines and wrinkles were just beginning to spread across her face, but the texture of her skin seemed strange to Emalda - she’d never seen make-up before.
“What can I get you, honey?” asked the bartender loudly in a voice rough with smoke.
“You’re Chara Polli?” asked Emalda, leaning across the bar so that she wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “I placed an order with Crose.”
Understanding lit the bartender’s eyes and she nodded in acknowledgment.
“Kuhd mead, honey,” said Chara. “If you’re new to Wefhuk, I’d recommend it.”
“I see,” said Emalda. “And how much is that?”
Chara casually glanced around to ensure they weren’t being overheard.
“72 Aisy, honey,” said Chara. “Or sixty New Republic credits, if that’s all you carry.”
Emalda slid a sack of fifty Republic credits onto the bar and then added ten more coins. Chara slid the money just as quickly below the counter, counting quickly. Once she was satisfied, a glass of amber liquid was placed on the counter in front of Emalda.
“See the droid before you leave,” said Chara briskly, waving a thick finger across the room.
The blue twilek watched them out of the corner of her eye as she wiped out a glass and set it on the bench. Chara moved to join her, whispering in her ear. Left alone, Emalda sipped gently at her drink as she swivelled on her stool to search the bar. A group of tables closest to the massive speakers had been avoided by most of the patrons. Amongst these tables a serving droid balanced precariously on a single wheel, only remaining upright through constant motion. The droid’s thin arms waved about erratically, occasionally coming down to make a swipe at a dirty table top with a washcloth. The washcloth was already so filthy that whenever the washcloth actually managed to make contact with the tables it didn’t make them any cleaner.
Emalda picked up the drink and emptied it in one go. She spluttered, expecting the burn of alcohol but not the overpowering sweetness. She returned the glass to the bar and slid from her stool. She approached the droid. The droid seemed largely oblivious to her approach, beeping and humming to itself. As she neared it, the droid whirled unexpectedly and the washcloth smacked into Emalda’s face. With a startled squawk, Emalda fell backwards against one of the tables. Equally startled, the droid tried to back away, overbalanced, and ended up on its side on the ground. Nursing her cheekbone, Emalda stood up. The droid was waving its arms frantically and twisting awkwardly on its back.
“W3-D7 has fallen and cannot get up!” squealed the droid. “W3-D7 has fallen and cannot get up!”
Emalda looked around. Most of the patrons were ignoring the racket (or couldn’t hear it over the music) but a few seemed to regard it as an entertaining distraction. Chara Polli was serving a customer but the Twilek was watching Emalda in growing alarm. A bouncer appeared and glanced over at Emalda but the Twilek slid out from behind the bar to intercept him, gesturing nervously and talking quickly. The droid, W3-D7, showed no signs of falling silent. Sighing, Emalda reached down and grabbed the droid's arms. With a firm yank, she hauled it back upright. The bouncer saw the droid was upright and seemed satisfied that the situation was under control. He returned to where he'd come from. The twilek shot a look of annoyance at Emalda before returning to the bar, where Chara Polli was waiting with a thunderous expression. Emalda got the impression that she had best be quick and turned back to the droid.
“W3-D7 is now up,” said the droid. “W3-D7 is grateful for your assistance.”
“I was told you had something for me,” said Emalda, leaning close to the droid’s hearing sensors.
“Are you the Ekash?” asked W3-D7, electronic suspicion creeping into its tone.
"I have a tail," said Emalda irritably.
“W3-D7 thinks you are the Ekash,” said the droid generously. “So W3-D7 will give you the package.”
The droid opened a compartment in its chest and pulled out a brown parcel. Emalda grabbed one end of the parcel. For a moment, she feared that the droid would not let go of the other end. Then W3-D7 released the parcel so suddenly it nearly fell over again.
“Will the Ekash be leaving now?” asked the droid.
“I was going to wait for a while...” said Emalda. “To avoid suspicion.”
“But the Ekash must leave. The Ekash already has the parcel.”
W3-D7 began to wave its arms in agitation. Emalda cringed, hoping that the droid was not going to begin squawking again. Chara Polli was still watching her.
“Very well,” snapped Emalda. “I’m going.”
“W3-D7 hopes the Ekash has enjoyed its time here. W3-D7 hopes you will return soon,” said the droid. “But the Ekash will leave now, yes?”
Emalda stuffed the package inside her jacket and stalked to the bar exit. One of the female bouncers seized her arm as she lifted a foot to cross the doorway. Her arm was nearly yanked out of its socket by the Kuhd, whose squinting eyes seemed far less friendly than her wide-toothed smile.
“Whoa,” said the Kuhd pleasantly. “Just a moment. Which escort was yours?”
Emalda suppressed the urge to hiss or stomp her foot at the universe.
“Crose.”
“I’ll just get him. Don’t go anywhere yet…”
Crose soon appeared outside the bar, nodding in gratitude at the female bouncer and settling his hands on his hip for the serious business of watching Emalda walk through the doorway.
“Can I come out now?” asked Emalda.
Crose nodded, “When you ready.”
She brushed past him and into the streets. She was heading towards the markets to buy supplies. She hadn’t told Crose but he sensed that she was in no mood to chat and trailed behind her, resuming his bored expression until six men in the iridescent red uniforms of the Wefhuk Investigative Service came charging around the corner. Emalda braced for an impact, but the officers weren’t interested in her. One hesitated at the sight of Crose’s blue Spaceport Security uniform and accidentally bumped Emalda on his way past. He was human, with his silver hair slicked into such large spikes that it pulled on the skin of his forehead and gave him a permanently wide-eyed expression. He blinked and muttered apologies before sprinting after his colleagues. Even while Emalda was reassured that they had been law-enforcement officers, she still checked the contents of her pockets in the privacy of the nearest fresher she could find.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
Rating: T for teen, involves canon level of violence
Spoilers: Spoilers for the movies and some minor EU references.
Summary: Stranded in the future, Anakin and Obi-Wan, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon struggle to work together to complete a mission for the New Republic.
[Included Pairings]Pairings: Obi-Wan/OFC, if you squint hints of Anakin/Obi-Wan pre-slash
Disclaimer: Most of the Star Wars universe belongs to George Lucas, Twentieth Century Fox and Disney - I'm not quite sure but it's definitely not me. This author uses these works without permission and for non-profit purposes.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |
Emalda swept her hair into a ponytail and forced her heartbeat to slow. She was not yet inside the Tscoruh Bar but already the loud music was verging on the point of pain. The rotund Kuhd security guard, Crose, who had escorted her from the spaceport, seemed unbothered by it. The Kuhdren were a scaly humanoid species with poor eyesight and dull hearing but a spectacular sense of smell. The newly settled world of Wefhuk was not the Kuhd home world but they made up more than half of the population of settlers. Many of the bars catered specifically to Kuhd sensibilities by spraying scented smoke and playing loud music with deep tones that could be felt through vibrations in the floor - some of them even had floors specially designed to transmit the vibrations to the patrons. The establishment which Emalda was queuing outside of was not quite that sophisticated. It was not Wefhuk’s trendiest bar but Emalda didn’t need it to be.
A small cloak room by the front door doubled as a waiting room for escorts. Tradition demanded that no Kuhd should enter a public doorway unless escorted by a Kuhd warrior. In theory, both men and women needed to be escorted by a trained warrior but in practice, mostly women were escorted by male acquaintances. It wasn’t that the males were acting as chaperones - the escorts had no responsibility or duty to control or even monitor the behaviour of their charges. They were only required for the scant seconds it took for their charges to enter or exit the doorway. Kuhd superstition held that doorways and thresholds were dangerous places frequented by spirits. Some of the spirits were benevolent but many were angry and thought to strike out indiscriminately at those that passed. The Kuhd-dominated government of Wefhuk genuinely felt they would be negligent unless they provided interplanetary visitors with the same level of protection they afforded their own. So, several Spaceport Security officials were designated as official escorts and were on standby to accompany offworlders to any locations they wished to visit.
Emalda might have been more sympathetic to the practice if it were applied equally to men and women. She had threatened to strike out into the city alone until Qui-Gon had insisted they respect Wefhuk’s laws and traditions while they were on the planet. Hence, officer Crose had become her unwelcome and perpetually bored shadow. As she passed her entry fee to the female bouncer at the door, Crose readjusted his belt around his ample waistline and huffed impatiently. He watched her closely until she had both feet over the threshold. Then he nodded in satisfaction and ambled off to the waiting room. His departure made her a fraction calmer but not much. She had not been in a bar of any sort for many years; towards the end of her time on Ekara, the army had begun to greatly restrict her movements.
She stood still for a moment to take her bearings. All of the bars she had ever visited had been full of Ekash with the occasional human visitor. This time there were many different alien species, most of which she'd never seen before. She pulled her jacket tighter, covering her nervously twitching tail. She moved towards the bar, bumping shoulders with the other patrons. It was early yet and though the tables were packed, the bar itself was relatively clear. She claimed a bar stool recently vacated by a Kuhd wearing so much perfume Emalda’s nose hairs were burning.
There were only two bartenders behind the bar, a human woman and a blue-skinned twilek. Emalda waved and the human walked towards her. She was blonde and heavyset which probably owed more to age and hard work than it did natural tendencies. Hard lines and wrinkles were just beginning to spread across her face, but the texture of her skin seemed strange to Emalda - she’d never seen make-up before.
“What can I get you, honey?” asked the bartender loudly in a voice rough with smoke.
“You’re Chara Polli?” asked Emalda, leaning across the bar so that she wouldn’t have to shout over the music. “I placed an order with Crose.”
Understanding lit the bartender’s eyes and she nodded in acknowledgment.
“Kuhd mead, honey,” said Chara. “If you’re new to Wefhuk, I’d recommend it.”
“I see,” said Emalda. “And how much is that?”
Chara casually glanced around to ensure they weren’t being overheard.
“72 Aisy, honey,” said Chara. “Or sixty New Republic credits, if that’s all you carry.”
Emalda slid a sack of fifty Republic credits onto the bar and then added ten more coins. Chara slid the money just as quickly below the counter, counting quickly. Once she was satisfied, a glass of amber liquid was placed on the counter in front of Emalda.
“See the droid before you leave,” said Chara briskly, waving a thick finger across the room.
The blue twilek watched them out of the corner of her eye as she wiped out a glass and set it on the bench. Chara moved to join her, whispering in her ear. Left alone, Emalda sipped gently at her drink as she swivelled on her stool to search the bar. A group of tables closest to the massive speakers had been avoided by most of the patrons. Amongst these tables a serving droid balanced precariously on a single wheel, only remaining upright through constant motion. The droid’s thin arms waved about erratically, occasionally coming down to make a swipe at a dirty table top with a washcloth. The washcloth was already so filthy that whenever the washcloth actually managed to make contact with the tables it didn’t make them any cleaner.
Emalda picked up the drink and emptied it in one go. She spluttered, expecting the burn of alcohol but not the overpowering sweetness. She returned the glass to the bar and slid from her stool. She approached the droid. The droid seemed largely oblivious to her approach, beeping and humming to itself. As she neared it, the droid whirled unexpectedly and the washcloth smacked into Emalda’s face. With a startled squawk, Emalda fell backwards against one of the tables. Equally startled, the droid tried to back away, overbalanced, and ended up on its side on the ground. Nursing her cheekbone, Emalda stood up. The droid was waving its arms frantically and twisting awkwardly on its back.
“W3-D7 has fallen and cannot get up!” squealed the droid. “W3-D7 has fallen and cannot get up!”
Emalda looked around. Most of the patrons were ignoring the racket (or couldn’t hear it over the music) but a few seemed to regard it as an entertaining distraction. Chara Polli was serving a customer but the Twilek was watching Emalda in growing alarm. A bouncer appeared and glanced over at Emalda but the Twilek slid out from behind the bar to intercept him, gesturing nervously and talking quickly. The droid, W3-D7, showed no signs of falling silent. Sighing, Emalda reached down and grabbed the droid's arms. With a firm yank, she hauled it back upright. The bouncer saw the droid was upright and seemed satisfied that the situation was under control. He returned to where he'd come from. The twilek shot a look of annoyance at Emalda before returning to the bar, where Chara Polli was waiting with a thunderous expression. Emalda got the impression that she had best be quick and turned back to the droid.
“W3-D7 is now up,” said the droid. “W3-D7 is grateful for your assistance.”
“I was told you had something for me,” said Emalda, leaning close to the droid’s hearing sensors.
“Are you the Ekash?” asked W3-D7, electronic suspicion creeping into its tone.
"I have a tail," said Emalda irritably.
“W3-D7 thinks you are the Ekash,” said the droid generously. “So W3-D7 will give you the package.”
The droid opened a compartment in its chest and pulled out a brown parcel. Emalda grabbed one end of the parcel. For a moment, she feared that the droid would not let go of the other end. Then W3-D7 released the parcel so suddenly it nearly fell over again.
“Will the Ekash be leaving now?” asked the droid.
“I was going to wait for a while...” said Emalda. “To avoid suspicion.”
“But the Ekash must leave. The Ekash already has the parcel.”
W3-D7 began to wave its arms in agitation. Emalda cringed, hoping that the droid was not going to begin squawking again. Chara Polli was still watching her.
“Very well,” snapped Emalda. “I’m going.”
“W3-D7 hopes the Ekash has enjoyed its time here. W3-D7 hopes you will return soon,” said the droid. “But the Ekash will leave now, yes?”
Emalda stuffed the package inside her jacket and stalked to the bar exit. One of the female bouncers seized her arm as she lifted a foot to cross the doorway. Her arm was nearly yanked out of its socket by the Kuhd, whose squinting eyes seemed far less friendly than her wide-toothed smile.
“Whoa,” said the Kuhd pleasantly. “Just a moment. Which escort was yours?”
Emalda suppressed the urge to hiss or stomp her foot at the universe.
“Crose.”
“I’ll just get him. Don’t go anywhere yet…”
Crose soon appeared outside the bar, nodding in gratitude at the female bouncer and settling his hands on his hip for the serious business of watching Emalda walk through the doorway.
“Can I come out now?” asked Emalda.
Crose nodded, “When you ready.”
She brushed past him and into the streets. She was heading towards the markets to buy supplies. She hadn’t told Crose but he sensed that she was in no mood to chat and trailed behind her, resuming his bored expression until six men in the iridescent red uniforms of the Wefhuk Investigative Service came charging around the corner. Emalda braced for an impact, but the officers weren’t interested in her. One hesitated at the sight of Crose’s blue Spaceport Security uniform and accidentally bumped Emalda on his way past. He was human, with his silver hair slicked into such large spikes that it pulled on the skin of his forehead and gave him a permanently wide-eyed expression. He blinked and muttered apologies before sprinting after his colleagues. Even while Emalda was reassured that they had been law-enforcement officers, she still checked the contents of her pockets in the privacy of the nearest fresher she could find.
Chapter 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 |