Title: Diversions
Author: The Musical Jedi
Timeframe: TPM
Characters: Obi-Wan, Handmaidens
Summary: While on the ship on Tatooine, Obi-Wan and the handmaidens try not to go mad from boredom.
Notes: Written for the Prequel Trilogy Write/Rewrite Contest on TF.N.
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Obi-Wan was bored.
He'd found some sabacc cards in one of the cabinets in the common area and sat at the table, listlessly playing solitaire. It was excruciatingly clear, however, that his heart wasn't in it. As the Padawan shuffled through the cards, he was mentally walking the ship, something he had done corporally, he estimated, about a thousand times since landing on this Force forsaken rock.
Up in the cockpit, Captain Panaka and Ric Olie were probably still sitting at the controls, talking in muted tones that were hushed whenever the Jedi entered. He could look over the control panels – but what was the point when the ship wouldn't fly? – or gloss back over the brief paragraph entered in the ship's databanks about Tatooine.
Obi-Wan sighed as he flipped another card. Tatooine. What a desolate, useless place to all but crash-land.
Behind the cockpit was the common room he was currently sitting in. There wasn't much to speak of here, except the table where they all took their meals, normally at different times from one another, and the comm station no one was allowed to use, as well as a steep staircase more accurately described as a ladder down to the lower level. Of course, there were some cabinets set into the walls, but they held nothing of interest, especially now that Obi-Wan had removed the sabacc deck.
Beyond the common room, connected both to it and the lower level, was what Obi-Wan had dubbed the throne room, and he had no desire to go in there. As far as he could tell, all that happened was the Queen sat on the chair at the end of the room while her Handmaidens stood around her, looking even more bored than he felt. Sometimes, if the Handmaidens were lucky, he speculated, the Queen would retire to her quarters on the lower level.
Beyond the hallway of quarters, all roughly the size of a 'fresher, was the cargo bay that stood mostly empty except for a small container of the Queen's clothing. Obi-Wan had been down there a few times to do his katas and whatever else could occupy him for a while, though had generally found the place stifling. While the rest of the ship fortunately still had environmental controls to keep it cool, the cargo bay wasn't afforded the same luxury, especially given the crippled state of the ship.
Obi-Wan looked down at the cards in his hands, shaking his head. "I must have been through this deck three times without actually finding a card to play," he grumbled to himself.
"… not a chance!"
The Jedi's head jerked up at the noise filtering up from the ladder. He scattered the cards as he stood, moving to stand over the opening leading downward, not even bothering to appear as though he were doing something other than eavesdropping.
"What do you mean?" The female voice was raised in annoyance, pitched higher than normal.
"You couldn't last more than five minutes," came the sharp response. He heard some scuffling and, without a second thought, started down the ladder. This, he thought, feeling a un-Jedi-like surge of joy at the conflict, could be the most excitement I've seen since we left Naboo.
When his boots hit the floor, Obi-Wan turned to find the two Handmaidens standing in the corridor, facing each other with red faces from emotion and yelling. When he landed, the farther one's face changed as she gasped, focusing on the Jedi. This attracted the attention of the one closer to Obi-Wan, who half-turned. The farther one lifted her chin, seizing the opportunity. "Betcha you couldn't even last a minute with him," she said, her tone quite satisfactory.
The closer one scrutinized him then turned away, clearly unconvinced. "He might be a Jedi, but he's probably had less hand-to-hand training than we have."
"Give me a break, Eirtaé. He's a Jedi. Don't you remember? He rescued us from Naboo with his Master." She snorted. "Even you didn't manage that."
Eirtaé rounded on the other one, stalking closer. "How about this, then, Rabé: You and I spar. Winner takes him for bragging rights. Even if you don't last a minute," she glanced back, smirk evident in both expression and tone, "you still got to take on one of the Republic's finest." Eirtaé looked back, appraising the other Handmaiden. "Somehow, I don't think you're the one who'll have to worry about it."
Obi-Wan dimly became aware that his mouth was hanging slightly open and remedied that problem before Eirtaé turned around. "Objections?" she asked, one of her dark eyebrows rising on her forehead.
The Jedi Padawan flashed her a smile. I wanted entertainment, he thought ruefully to himself, without a touch of regret. "Not at all."
Eirtaé brushed past him, leading the way into the cargo bay. Rabé stopped before following her in. She glanced up at the Jedi, giving him a shy smile before saying, "You don't know what you've gotten yourself into." She added a head-tilt indicating the other girl, just in case Obi-Wan missed the reference.
They trouped into the cargo bay, a wall of dry heat hitting them as they came in the room. Both of the Handmaidens wore brown, light leggings that came down to their knees and no shoes, as well as sleeveless tops. Obi-Wan was dimly aware that Eirtaé's was a dark red while Rabé's was yellow. In his tabard, outer tunic, obi, and under tunic, he felt more than a little warm. At least I wasn't wearing my cloak, he thought, remembering the coolness of the common room above.
"I think the Jedi should judge," Rabé said, strolling out into the middle of the open area. Eirtaé was standing just inside the door, arms folded on her chest. "Playing to first blood doesn't seem to make any sense, and I can't see either of us tapping out." She smiled, displaying her teeth at the other Handmaiden.
Obi-Wan was beginning to wonder if they had been as bored as he, even with each other.
"Fine by me." Eirtaé moved causally across the room, bouncing a little on the floor.
"If I'm judging, I think the point should be to immobilize the other," Obi-Wan threw in. "I'm guessing that's what most of your training has been in?"
Rabé nodded, while Eirtaé looked at him. The Jedi walked along the curving wall, before stopping about halfway. He gave a small bow, his face making the gesture a mockery, and came back up grinning. "At your leisure, my ladies." Then, he leaned back to watch.
Both the girls moved skillfully; he had to give them that. They were light on their feet, balanced on the balls for quick movements as they slowly circled around one another. Eirtaé made the first move; Obi-Wan found this unsurprising, given her more fiery disposition. Rabé neatly sidestepped, but her arm was caught as Eirtaé tried to pull her closer, using her arm as an anchor.
Rabé twisted away, breaking the grip on her arm, and reached for the other's waist. Eirtaé crouched down, but Rabé still got in. Obi-Wan noticed that Rabé was actually slightly smaller than her companion and narrowed his eyes in speculation and profession interest as she sought to drag down Eirtaé's center of gravity. It was a risky move; if Rabé herself overbalanced, it would be short work to pin her to the floor.
Eirtaé widened her stance, bracing herself on the floor as Rabé moved about, trying to shift the larger Handmaiden. Grunts came from both the girls as they continued to shift, each jockeying for position, and Obi-Wan noticed that they were beginning to sweat. He heard the squeak as Eirtaé's foot slid on the metal floor, and both girls tumbled to the ground.
Rabé landed heavily on top of Eirtaé, who managed to execute an awkward roll. She squirmed, moving surprisingly fast, and was on top of Rabé, Eirtaé's hands pressing into Rabé's wrists and her weight keeping Rabé down.
"I think that's match," the Jedi Padawan smiled, making no effort to keep the pleasure out of his voice. They were certainly up to their task of protecting the Queen.
Eirtaé rolled off Rabé and then helped her to her feet. Then, she turned to Obi-Wan, who saw a feral glint in her eye – as well as no small amount of amusement. "Your turn, Jedi."
Obi-Wan smiled back and began to walk away from the wall. He rather thought he'd enjoy this.
Eirtaé pointed down to his feet. "No boots," she said with a frown. "I want this to be fair, even if I know the odds are in your favor."
Cocking an eyebrow, Obi-Wan sat down to pull off his boots. With a second thought, he also removed his obi, tabard, and outer tunic, given the extreme heat of the room. Behind him, he heard a low whistle of appreciation. He turned back to see Rabé trying to look innocent. The Handmaiden then grinned and batted her eyes. "Since I'm judging," she began, folding her hands chastely in front of her, "I think you should take your other shirt off too." Biting her lower lip, she then added in a conspiratorial whisper, "We don't want you overheating."
Glancing back at Eirtaé, who was struggling not to laugh, Obi-Wan had the dim feeling that somehow he'd been tricked, although he wasn't sure why. He shrugged out of the under tunic and placed it with the rest of his clothing.
"Whenever you're ready," Rabé stated.
The match was, predictably, short. With Obi-Wan's superior height and weight, it didn't take him long to pin Eirtaé in a hold with her arms behind her. Still, it was long enough for him to break out in a sweat, as well as for Eirtaé to demonstrate her not insignificant skills. She definitely lasted more than a minute, if not five.
Obi-Wan left the cargo bay, feeling happy in his warm, tired, sweaty state.
---
As they were leaving the cargo bay, Rabé produced a credit chip and tossed it to Sabé. She caught it with a grin. "Why'd you ask him to take off the tunic? I thought you said I couldn't pull it off."
Rabé shrugged. "I decided I'd rather see him shirtless than keep the creds." She smiled. "Well worth the investment. Do you think he realized you're not Eirtaé?"
"Not a chance," Sabé laughed. She flipped the cred chip up and caught it, looking very pleased. "Well worth the investment indeed."