Wayward Padawan

Frond leaves the size of continental plates caught most of the rain about the equator of Denton and in the spaces near where the fronds rose bundles of life had begun to collect like moss. The rain was a life deterrent to things that weren’t native, too heavy and metallic to grow things or to drink unfiltered and too forceful in the gaps between the leaves. As one moved closer to the center of each frond more and more of it poured through the mesh sinew of the plant, intermixed almost one-to-one with the toxic sap the plants produced. Life there was strange, dangerous. There was a sweet spot of livability at the stems. The rain was stopped or slowed enough to be livable, the sap not fully set into the water. It was a fragile knife’s edge to walk, but the planet’s biosphere was perfect for valuable crops. If you could join one of the little farming towns and put in your hours of labor, there was money to be made in it.

Pome was one of these. Sitting at the intersection of three rivers, it was made up of little more than a few bars and shops as well as a shuttle office which connected it to the rest of the planet. Each day, hundreds of unmanned shipping drones flew in and out of the office, connecting the small town to the rest of the planet, namely the parts where landing and flying larger ships was actually possible. The office collected goods that each vendor would sell to one another and some small kind of life would churn on as long as the land remained good. The Bulpu farmers treated the town as their main hub of access to the outside world. Because of this, the post office was almost never robbed. Anything stolen would either directly injure another member of the small community or be directly traceable to the thief. Denton was a planet with no shortage of ways to make examples of people.

All this made it the perfect spot for shipping things you didn't want to be found. Credits to be laundered, the raw materials to make illegal narcotics, Sith holocrons...

Potamoi stepped through the holographic field of the Split Rivers Bar and paused for a moment as the Blood Biters and Bulgeworms that had collected in his robes and boots fried and turned to ash. The bar had the benefit of the sole anti-pest field in the village. Whoever didn't want to have a drink or couldn't afford one could just deal with the various maladies of settling a planet like this. Both the ones that crawled on you and the ones that crawled in you. Once the light above the door beeped and he heard the sound of the bolt sliding out of place, the Zabrackian wiped the ash from his robe and stepped in.

The Split Rivers was an almost perfectly round building with a roof that domed upward unlike the flat polymer pueblo houses of the settlements. It was the only building in the town that was evidently meant to fit into the location's unique challenges and not a prefab building dropped for colonization. Dead center, around the building's structural pole, a perfectly ring-shaped counter was surrounded by bar stools. On the inside, an early-model protocol droid was hung from the roof by cords coming from his back and neck like a puppet. There didn't seem to be a door for him to leave, but he also likely didn't have the cord range even if there had been. He was designed to stay inside the ring, bartending until the planet either dried up or something in him substantial enough to take him out of service failed.

Two people sat at the bar, simple Bulpu farmers who he knew by name but didn't speak to if he could avoid it. In one booth, Mory the wookie sat and flicked at a partnerless Pazaak set listlessly. In another, a Twi'Lek and her human owner sat with their faces together, whispering softly to each other and occasionally leaning in to kiss one another warmly. Recently arrived but just as boring as the rest of them. The regular group of farmers that spent almost every day here at this time were nowhere to be seen, that either meant that Stilts’ knee was acting up again or one of them had been hurt on the farm. Either would be enough to keep them away for a few days, but never much longer. A set of environmental control units quietly hummed in the domed area of the roof. It kept the building from being as chokingly hot as it was outside in the jungle, but it wasn't nearly enough to fight the oppressive humidity.

In the time he had been working on this part of the planet, Potamoi had become intimately familiar with the dull thudding heartbeat of how the city worked. If he could burn it all down and kill every single one of them without blowing his cover, he would have done it without hesitation just to never even think about a Bulpu again.

His master seemed to have conspired to send him to the single most backwater and boring job in the galaxy. This despite his decent connection to the and his exceptional lightsaber form. No matter how much it was emphasized that this was the most important job a Sith could have, that he would be greatly rewarded when his services would be better needed elsewhere, it didn't make this less like pulling teeth. But he was also loyal. Loyal as a jilted Sith padawan could be, at least. Grounded enough to be better than his base instincts after years of training. He could only hope that the promises of reward were as good as they sounded. Perhaps a planet with a thriving arena scene where he could use the hand to hand skills that had made him the best in his tribe to win the affection of the local women. Perhaps the royal courts of Geonosis, where he could watch captured Twi'leks struggle in the arena and decide after their exhausting fight if they were better thrown to the Nexus or taken to his bedchambers. Perhaps, if he dared to dream, even a planet with a woman on it that wasn't married, coated to her neck in mud and seed pulp, or both. It would be a nice change of pace.

"Welcome... customer." Q2, the protocol droid, beeped sadly as he approached the counter, "Please... excuse... my... slow... service... I... am... due... to... be... replaced..."

"Tell Falchek I'm here for my package," Potamoi grunted. “Whether he has it yet or not.”

He waited for the protocol droid to beep in confirmation before he went to sit at one of the booths and pulled his hood closer around his face. Nobody was staring, nobody cared.

While he was waiting, the Twi'lek caught him looking from across the room. She shrugged bashfully in her skimpy outfit and pushed one of her ocean-blue lekku back up over her shoulders. Her muddy brown eyes seemed to have more intelligence behind them than usual for a Twi'lek . Likely new, still getting used to existing for the pleasure of others as they seemingly all wound up doing. They all seemed to get comfortable with it quickly enough, but the process was different for each. Some just needed proper bonding with their master, some needed mechanical help. The Hutts had all but perfected little infernal devices that could keep slaves in the mood no matter what. Of course, for some, it took renting them out to strangers. Letting the know they were a thing, a useful thing but still a thing.

The human owner -a lean olive-skinned woman probably twice his and the slaves age- finally caught him staring. She gave the 's leash a sharp tug and brought the Twi'lek's face close to her own. She whispered something quick and sharp. The Twi'lek nodded nervously and glanced back at him. For a moment, Potamoi let himself think the Twi'lek would pull herself up and proposition him with her master's rates. Give him something to do even if it meant burning some of his savings on some rookie whore.

Then the Twi'lek sat straddling her owner's lap and pressed her lips against the human's. Her master made sure to look Potamoi in the eye gloatingly as she wrapped her hands around the 's ass. Potamoi scowled and gave an apologetic wave, recognizing the message. Not "sorry, my isn't for sale yet, she needs more training" but more "even if she was fully trained, you couldn’t have her." He felt more stupid for getting his hopes up than anything else. Hutts always shared if the price was right. Humans had some more possessive inclinations. It was one of the things that made them cunts. The list wasn’t short.

Mory huffed to himself grumpily. Potamoi rose and moved over to the Pazaak table. Losing was at least more of something to do than watch a human rub their shiny little toy in his face. Either way, he was grappling with his own powerlessness. The Wookie grunted and crossed when he approached, then slowly smiled as Potamoi fished out his credit chit.

Across the bar, he heard them whisper back and forth. After a moment, there came a shuffling of fabric, followed by the master's voice loud enough to be overheard.

"Not here, not now."

***

Dao Li looked at her sternly as she said it, even as color flushed the edges of her cheeks and her breath rose and fell raggedly. Pippy pulled her hand away from her master's belt, then leaned in and brought their lips together again before responding.

"But you're the one shoving your tongue down my throat, master."

"I'm just doing my best to sell it," Dao Li cleared her throat and looked away before looking back.

"Is that what you're doing?" Pippy asked with fake innocence. "Because it kinda seems like that's what I was doing too. Kinda seems like you're also the one who brought a Twi'lek to a planet with a hot atmosphere. Maybe we'd sell it better if you really gave him a show."

"I swear, I will ask the powers that be to raise your blocker dosage." Dao Li was extremely careful with how she chose to phrase it, making sure not to speak anything out loud which might blow their cover. "Even if your hormones are normal for your species, they will be the of us."

"Even if you pump me full of... more organizational control," Pippy just barely managed to keep herself from slipping up, it was like her body was being lit of fire, "It's not going to do anything if you keep calling me "Puppy" and "Naughty Girl" every time you correct my mistakes."

"Relax, Pip," It was an angry little hiss, "I'll help to calm you down when we're done with our job here, I'm not letting another target get away because I'm dealing with your desires."

Pip pouted, "It's pretty mean to make me wait when I'm like this. What are the chances he’s even actually the guy? It’s easier for you to pretend you don’t want-"

"It's not about want," Dao Li lowered Pip's cheek onto her shoulder and kissed the top of her head, her next words were passed from mind to mind instead of spoken aloud. "Find the , Padawan."

Pip closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to center herself even if her master's spice and berry smell up this close was like being pressed between her legs with a nose full of sex. After a moment, she felt her body loosen, the tingling and burning between her legs shrinking to a minor itch and then to nothing at all. When she opened her eyes again, she was in full control. It wasn't gone, you couldn't make these things go away, but Jedi training was never about that. She had let herself be motivated by feeling instead of thinking. In a more serious moment, it was a mistake which could have cost her life.

"I'm sorry master," Pip whispered, "You're right."

"There's nothing to forgive. Your goal has never been to erase your feelings fully.. And I knew how your body would react to this planet, I should have taken the risk more seriously."

Pip shifted, tugging at the straps of her disguise. A Hutt slavegirl probably wasn't the elegant subterfuge she had dreamed of when she first entered the Jedi academy. It was little more than a pair of pieces of leather shaped into a bikini with some metal for support, the sections meant to cover her nipples constantly slipped and let sapphire areola show and the crotch reacted to moisture by clinging skintight and riding up into sensitive areas. It wasn't made for comfort. In fact, it might have been made specifically to be uncomfortable. The metal collar around her neck and the chain leading to her master's hand was just sort of the icing on the cake. They had adjusted it from the standard size so that it wouldn’t dig into her skin at all times, but even then it was a constant presence. One that could be firmly titillating one moment and then almost unbearable the next. She should have worn it more before the mission, taken the chance to resize it again. Another little way she wasn’t nailing things.

She straightened up. "I can handle it, master."

"If we have to fight, will your clothes impede you?"

"That... seems like a question you should have asked before," Pip grumbled.

"Before, I didn't know what we would be up against. Seeing our target, this may not be easy."

"I can handle it, master." Pip repeated, "You trained me to fight in any clothes, or none at all."

"It's not a matter of pride, but how it might impede fluid movement."

"So long as we take the collar off, that won't be a problem. We had a ceremony that involved wearing something like this. I never got to do it, but I can’t imagine this is that much worse.."

Dao Li grunted, "Should I ask what that ceremony involved?"

"I think you can make an informed guess."

"You have a truly fascinating culture," Dao Li stirred slightly.

"Visit my home with me some time," Pip felt her cheeks flushing again, "I'd love to show you how our tribe welcomes outsiders."

"Easy, Puppy."

"A woman of your talents might actually die of exhaustion." Pip shrugged.

Dao Li started to say something before her whole body tensed at once, Pip felt the steady and slow breath of her master centering herself and started to do the same even before her master’s mind reached out to her.

"He's on the move."

Pip glanced over and watched the Zabrackian opening the door and stepping out. The bartender was standing at the table the young man had been at and wincing, the young man slipping a package into his robes. With a gesture of her hand, Dao Li unlocked Pip's collar with the and both of them rose. Pip picked up the robe that she had been sitting on and draped it over her shoulders, taking back some small shred of modesty for the first time in the better part of a few hours. When she made a show of pocketing the collar, Dao Li rolled her eyes but said nothing. A moment later both of them were out of the bar and into their landspeeder, following their target quickly but at a decent distance.

He cut from town to the treeline on a one person speeder bike, moving leisurely until he was out of city limits and moving upstream along the northern river. They followed him by the snaking path, far back enough that the sound of their landspeeder didn't reach him. Dao Li sat with her eyes closed in the passenger seat as Pip steered, her master muttering which way he had gone any time they came to a fork. Pip focused on keeping close enough for Dao Li to feel his presence with the but not close enough to be caught, scanning the horizon at all times looking for breaks in the trees big enough for him to have gone down. Slowly, they passed even the outermost of the Bulpu farms and excited nervousness started to cluster in Pip’s stomach.

In reality, he never turned off from the main path of the river. Eventually they neared the base of one of the other megaflora casting leaves over the twisted jungle and found his bike set down outside of a cave structure half natural and half dug into the stone. Pip settled the speeder down near the bike when Dao Li gave the confirmation and the two slipped inside. When the tunnels gave way to a large chamber ringed by glowing light stones and a data pod full of Sith Holocrons, they caught their target entirely by accident. For a second, they all stood looking at each other, eyes wide in disbelief and brains not fully caught up. If his pants had been around his ankles, it might have been less awkward.

"Shit," Dao Li drew her lightsaber. Pip followed suit around the same time that their target did. “It’s him.”

The light of their blades was stronger than the bright stones. The chamber was as much metal as it was stone, massive machines set into the walls and floor and churning softly like a hum was coming from the center of the planet. It was dangerous walking, constant pits and lips and jagged ledges. The Zabrackian pounded his chest and muttered to himself, circling around them slowly. His form was odd, a mixture of dueling stance and his own tribal improvisation. When he finally attacked, he struck two quick blows that they caught easily and then he fell back. He continued, one time after another after another, each time coming at them a little faster and more intensely, feeling them out and trying to make them get comfortable and sloppy. Dao Li's personal, almost purely defensive style was more than a match for it, at least for the time being. But he was fighting like he was poking a sleeping animal. Occasionally, they would flick things at him with the , but the awkward and fumbling encounter had turned into a flat and dragging stalemate of cautious expertise. He was working his way toward the eyes, but he kept them from ever knowing how close he thought he was.

When he came at them again, he kept to it this time. Each of his moves even now felt like they were holding something back. At times he would switch his saber to one hand, playing with them and seeing how they responded, but each time he would switch it back or duck out of the way before they could punish him for it. The actual battle seemed to be with the , Dao Li and her target probing each other's minds and trying to find a space to assert dominance. This was something Pip had been ready for, and when she went on a more forceful offensive, he was to make the choice between keeping his guard up or tackling the threat at hand. He picked her, turning and wheeling with blows at the very edge of the speed she could keep up with. But even as he pushed her on her back feet, she could see his eyes twitching and almost glazing, not focusing enough on keeping up his mental defenses as her master started to wear at his mind. In theory, if the two didn't make any mistakes, they always won a two versus one situation like this. Pip kept focusing on not making mistakes, letting Dao Li do the part that she did best and occasionally pushing more aggressively to keep her opponent off balance. As their blades crackled, his face slowly shifted from a sheet of rage to something almost sad.

Of course, there were always going to be variables that the two couldn't control. The target knew his environment better.

"I'm sorry, morning star." He muttered softly. It was hard to tell where his grasp on reality began and his hazy memory trip ended.

"What?" She grunted.

Almost too quickly for her eyes to follow he wheeled and planted his heel in her stomach, catching her mid stride backward and knocking her on her ass. Or at least, she should have landed on her ass. She watched the ground she had been standing on rise in a circular lip around her, falling farther than the ground had been below her. She was consciously aware at least slightly of her lightsaber sitting at the lip of the hole as she shot out a hand and grabbed at the shelf of rock. What her hand found instead was a flat wall of metal, coming up around her more quickly as she was coming down.

"Wait!" She yelped out as the tube suddenly closed off at the top and the floor dropped away, sending her down a sloping path into the dark. She braced for the ground to come up to meet her, tried to brace herself on the walls, but after a few moments she realized the fall was becoming more in her head than a real thing.

And with a flash of light she passed out of time caught in that individual moment.

***

Potamoi felt the dagger in his mind slipping, the human woman shifting purely to lightsaber combat as she came at him. The sheet of his memories, twisted and contorted and screaming in his ears, fell back where they belonged. In the blink of an eye, her Padawan's lightsaber was in her other hand and both were whirling at him. He'd uncorked something in her that he hadn't felt before, and it was taking everything in his power to bob and weave around it. For a moment, she was like one of the battle mothers from his childhood, giving an overconfident boy a lesson he wouldn’t forget. Making him feel small, reminding him of his place.

…Perhaps she wasn’t fully out of his mind. He aimed for her heart.

"You still have time to save your Padawan," He sneered between breaths, "If you keep fighting and lose now, she'll curse your name before I'm done with her."

He didn't see the rock, but he felt it strike him at the back of the neck and rock his head forward. He managed to catch himself from falling forward toward the woman, but before he'd even blinked he felt the searing pain of one of her blades striking him through his left heart. His vision started to blur, but didn't go out entirely. The battle mothers had never managed something like that. Perhaps that’s why they had started losing those intended lessons at a certain point.

"Fuck you."

She was so sure of her victory that she watched his hand rise between them with his saber in it and looked dumbfounded as he reactivated the blade and it slid through her. They looked at each other, her face bewildered and numb, his a pain-drunk sneer as they skewered each other through in the dark.

"I have more than one heart, Fading Light."

Her other arm jerked at her side and he remembered her other saber in time to watch with fascination as his point of view slid from his shoulders and he watched his own body limply collapse in front of him. The human woman did so too a moment later, clutching her chest before she stopped moving forever. The fairest outcome of a challenge, and the least satisfying. A moment later, the dark swallowed his vision entirely.

A silent cave full of priceless technology -Jedi and Sith alike- and a lone Twi'lek in a chamber below, remained where a brief but intense battle had once raged. Aside from brief but uneventful investigations made by the Jedi Council and a Sith Lord, the universe turned on as if nothing had happened. The sun still rose and set on Denton undisturbed by the quiet hum of stasis batteries as the pod’s passenger remained trapped inside.