Author's notes:
One problem about writing in the Star Wars universe is that there are so many authors in the canon that there are things that nobody agrees on. Because I couldn't find reliable information about initiates and padawans and less about Coruscant, I made most of it up myself. In my stories:
(A) Initiates are younglings and padawans are teenagers taken by a master. Padawans are taken at eleven or twelve.
(B) Coruscant has about ten levels.
(C) They have a holiday for each new year and it's really crazy. (This is Coruscant. Everything's crazy.)
Disclaimer: All characters mentioned except for Council members are entirely made up by Elemarth and should not be considered canon characters. (Oh, how I wish.)
Disclaimer: I have never been drunk and know very little about alcoholic drinks in Star Wars or on Earth.
A thousand thanks to Xrai and my friend "Minas Ithil," who both beta-ed this story for me.
Pronunciation of Names:
Akite Chairu - Ah-kee-tay. "Chai" rhymes with "sky" and "ru" rhymes with "new".
Dorn Feno - Dorn Feh-noh
Jiimo - Jee-moh
Zefel - Zeh-fehl
One last comment: the last few paragraphs of this refers to my story, Survivor's Guilt. If you haven't read it - ahem, do - but it's okay for this story.
And now, let the story begin at last!
On Jedi and Alcohol
"Hey, Kee!"
I knew who it was without looking. Not because I recognized the voice, or because I recognized him through the Force, but because only my friend Dorn called me "Kee."
He always had. I have no idea why – well, I guess it's just because he's Dorn Feno and that's the sort of thing he does. Maybe "Akite" is too long for him.
"Come on, Kee," Dorn said eagerly. I could tell that one of those typical Dorn-like ideas was coming up soon as he led me to an empty room where we could talk in private. I was surprised that the Masters weren't smart enough to be, by now, able to recognize when he was forming a plan and stop him – but, then again, not even Master Yoda is omniscient.
A young Rodian boy, a black-haired Human girl, and a gold-skinned humanoid boy were sitting, cross-legged, in a semi-circle, looking very serious – or trying to. They were, in order, Jiimo, Zefel, and Fang.
I had known these people so long that I could read their expressions, despite the fact that I'm a Zabrak, so they were all from different species than me. They all knew what was going on, which meant that they considered me the hardest to convince to follow Dorn's crazy plans and therefore was the last to be told. Again. I sat down and braced myself for Dorn's new scheme.
Dorn, a black-haired Human, was an enigma in several ways. For one thing, he wasn't especially good at the Force. Or very athletic. Or a good pilot. Or, much as I hate to say it, terribly intelligent. So what was he going to do as a Jedi? In fact, he was slightly overweight, which is another mystery. (Or, as he would say if I told him this, undertall. He was kind of short.) Considering the exercise we got at the Temple, he would have to eat an unimaginable amount to be overweight, and we don't get any more food than we need, so he must have had the most sluggish metabolism of any Human in the galaxy.
Another thing I never figured out was whether he was our friend and leader or an annoyance hanging on for the ride. Well, he was Jiimo's friend, certainly. Jiimo was the first to hear any of his ideas and the mastermind (curse him) who turned them into a plan.
Jiimo, more than any of us, enjoyed Dorn's schemes. He likes the thrill, unlike Zefel, Fang, and I. We only liked Dorn's ideas after we are safe and can laugh over how crazy we had been.
"So, Kee," Dorn began. "We're almost twelve. Fang is twelve."
"I'm eleven and a half," I pointed out. "And Jiimo is hardly older."
"It doesn't matter," Jiimo informed me. "This is about being a padawan, and we'll be eligible with the rest of our class even if we are a few months young.
"That remains to be seen." I figured I had to resist as much as possible, since I had a feeling this plan would get us into trouble.
"We are all going to be chosen as padawans within the next year. Or, if you insist, we probably will." Dorn rolled his eyes. "Basically, all the time we have left together is the amount of time it takes for Master Yoda to allow Master Whoever to take Fang as his padawan, and that may be a very short amount of time."
"It's Master Sual," said Fang quietly.
"Whatever," Dorn said dismissively.
It took someone like Dorn to wave off Fang's words. Fang treated them like money, something to be spent cautiously, a good quality for a Jedi and the exact opposite of Dorn, and when Fang spoke, his voice had a powerful, regal quality that was hard to ignore.
I think Fang was born into royalty, or at least had been royal in a past life. He had the air of a prince. He was tall enough to be able to look down on the rest of us, and usually wore a serious expression. He wasn't very strong with the Force, but he was dedicated, and everyone knew that one of the Jedi Healers, Master Sual, had his eye on Fang but hadn't yet gained the Council's permission. I can see Fang being a good healer. He's easy to trust.
I should add that we're not sure if Fang is Human or not. His hair and eyes are the same golden color as his skin, which is something I have never seen in any other Humans. Whatever place he came from didn't speak Basic: his name is Aaffeng Taolong. We, of course, couldn't pronounce that when we were little, so we shortened it to Feng, then, naturally, Fang.
"Since this is our last few months together, we thought we should get a chance to have some fun," Dorn continued. "Unfortunately, the Masters don't agree."
Well, obviously. Dorn's version of "fun" isn't theirs. Provided the Masters even knew what "fun" means.
"...So I wanted to get out into the city for a night."
"Dorn!" I narrowly avoided shouting, which might have made someone realize that we weren't talking about classwork. "That could get us expelled."
"That's what I said," Zefel told me. "But have you ever heard of an initiate getting expelled? Even padawans have to do something unforgivably illegal first."
"You're right," I admitted. "It's the only reason Dorn is still here."
Dorn didn't react. He never reacted to insults.
"You see, whenever we actually get out of the Temple, it's with a big group watched over by masters who won't let any of us out of sight for a second," Dorn explained. "Even the money we are given is watched over. And it's boring."
"Sheiro says that lots of padawans and initiates go out on New Year's Eve, so it's not like it's that uncommon," Jiimo told me. Sheiro was his older brother, who had then been a padawan for five years.
"We are not going out on New Year's Eve," I stated. I had been told enough, and heard enough conversations, to know how insane Coruscant got on that night.
"No," Jiimo assured me. "Though Dorn wanted to. It's unsafe, and Sheiro says that you're twice as likely to be caught that night because there are so many Jedi out trying to keep the peace. However, if we did go out in a week, it would be two weeks before New Year's still, so things wouldn't be so crazy and there wouldn't be so many Jedi out."
I glanced from one face to another. They were all in agreement.
"Fang, you're smarter than this," I said accusingly. But the thing was, for all his regalness, Fang was kind of a pushover. "Zefel …?"
"Akite," my friend said, "I think there's something you've missed in Dorn's ideas. Even though a bantha could come up with better ones… they're fun."
I thought about that. The four of them watched me expectantly. "We are going to be murdered by the masters," I stated.
"Not if we get back before they wake up!" Jiimo grinned.
"We'll meet in a week. I hope you've saved some of the money they give us when they let us out of here," Dorn said. We get a small amount of money when they take us out of the Temple, but we rarely spend anything.
"When we get caught, remember that I never said, 'yes,'" I told them.
"I think you just did," was Fang's response.
"So let's see how much money we've got between us," ordered Dorn a week later.
We all dug into our pockets and came out with several Republican credits – leftovers from what the teachers gave us on the days when we left the Temple, money we had made from bets, or spare change we had found on the floor. Dorn came out with a handful of change, then another, then a third. He had as much as the rest of us put together.
We stared at him. "Who did you rob?" I asked. "No, don't tell us, so we can honestly say that we didn't know when they ask us."
Dorn, as usual, ignored me, and he started counting the money. "We're sharing this equally," he explained. "Only fair. How much is an air taxi?"
Jiimo told him, and Dorn counted out double the amount and set it aside.
"We have enough money, I think," Dorn announced. He scooped up the credits and made a move as if to put it into his pockets.
"No!" Zefel, Jiimo, and I cried. Dorn looked surprised. Fang made a motion for us to be quieter. Zefel whispered, "We need someone to carry it that we can trust to not waste it all on himself."
"Fine." Dorn pushed it towards Fang, who would probably be too nice to use any of it for himself, let alone waste it all.
"Um…" Jiimo began. "Not to be mean or anything, but Fang would probably give it all to Dorn if he asks, and I don't want that."
So they all turned to look at me.
Oh, yeah. Trust Akite. That's what I am to them: the reliable one.
I pocketed the money and asked, "So how are we going to get out of – and back into – here without being seen?"