Rating: Pure PG
Spoilers: For all Jedi Apprentice books, and in the future, all movies. Feedback: It's wuvved and adored. Send to: dbkate2@aol.com
Summary: The second in a proposed series of short stories describing scenes from the life of everyone's favorite Mon Calamarian Jedi . .. Bant!
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BANT TALES II: A Night Out
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The synthsilk sharet was light green in color and Bant fairly beamed as she peered at herself in the reflection glass. The shimmering shade complimented her pale salmon skin and was simply the perfect outfit to spend on her night out in.
A night out she didn't get very often, now that she was a padawan. Her master, while kind and goodhearted, was a work oriented fellow, one who definitely frowned on time idly spent. To him, recreation meant a textbook versus a technical manual, an instructional hologram versus hands-on training.
With a smile, Bant opened up a small compact and dabbed a bit more cosmetic "flous," a shimmering silver unguent, on her eyelids, forehead and cheeks. The make-up gave her a mysterious, decidedly feminine look, one that was difficult to obtain while wearing Jedi robes, when her face was covered with nothing but the damp sheen of exercise-derived perspiration.
Humming tunelessly as she fussed, Bant grew more pleased by the second. It was going to be a wonderful night, one where she would have total and complete freedom to do whatever she pleased.
Perhaps she would make some new and interesting friends outside of the Temple. At fifteen years old, her acquaintances had been limited to fellow initiates and padawans, and she couldn't help but wonder what she'd been missing.
It was a huge galaxy out there, there was so much to learn, and she couldn't wait to start.
The slight ping at her door, indicating a visitor, interrupted her reverie.
"Come in," she said, not bothering to ask who it was. If her intuition was correct, her visitor would come in whether she'd give him permission or not.
True to his nature, Obi-Wan Kenobi loped in, his cloak already half yanked off. He disentangled himself from the rest of it and tossed it aside before throwing himself into a chair. He hooked his leg over the chair's arm and leaned back, stretching carelessly.
"Don't be shy, Obi-Wan," said Bant, irony coloring her voice. "Please, make yourself at home."
He yawned and stretched again. "What a dreadful class Master Donal gives. How anyone can make a weapons class boring is beyond me." He lazily rose and sauntered over to the cold'keep. Opened the door and peered inside. "Where do you keep your juice? Do you have any of those sandwiches your Master likes?" He pulled out a tall green bottle, uncorked it and sniffed at its contents tentatively. "What's this? Can I have it?"
Bant rolled her eyes. "Shall I answer your questions in order? If so, the answers are 'I don't drink fruit juice,' 'no, my master ate his lunch' and 'if you like drinking Ozterial intestinal enzymes, be my guest.'"
"Oh." Obi-Wan re-corked the bottle with a grimace. "Science experiment?"
"Something like that," she replied and returned to the reflection glass. Perhaps a little more make-up, she thought, as Obi-Wan wandered back into the main area and joined her.
His eyes narrowed. "Say, what exactly are you wearing?" He stepped closer and peered at her eyelids. "And what's this all over your face?" He grimaced. "It looks like you fell into a spark-spice pit."
Bant felt her back dorsal stiffen, a common Calamarian signal of extreme annoyance. "It's called make-up and I'll thank you to keep your unwanted opinions to yourself."
She turned away and busied herself with unfolding, then refolding, the hem of her new cloak. Men, she thought, biting back a frown. No matter what the species, they were all alike. . .
Annoying.
Obi-Wan blinked, then looked abashed. "Um ... well, I didn't mean... um, well ..." He sighed. "I supposed what I really meant to say is that you don't need all that stuff on your face. I like you the way you usually are."
He gave her his best placating grin, but Bant wasn't impressed.
"Whatever," she grumbled. She glanced back in the mirror and wondered if he was right, but shook the thought away. It was her night out and nobody was going to ruin it for her.
Not even her so-called best friend.
Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably and dug the toe of his boot against the metal floor. "So, where are you going?"
She feigned indifference. "I'm going to Mklarbo Den," she said airily. "And when that closes I'm going to the after-hours cantina near the Main Hangar and after that, wherever the Force takes me."
The fact was that Bant had no idea where she was going, but she'd heard a few of the other padawans mention those particular places and they sounded as good as any.
"Mklarbo's Den?" Obi-Wan gaped at her. "Cript's Cantina? Have you lost your mind? You can't go there! Those places are full of spacers and degenerates and Alterian dancers and . . . "
She put her hands on her hips. "Really? And how would you know all this?"
Obi-Wan turned bright red. "I just do," he mumbled.
"Humph. You just do." She adjusted her sharet. "Well, I just know that's where I'm going and I'm going to have a good time while I'm there too. So don't get any ideas in that fat human head of yours about stopping me, because it's not going to fly." She glared at him. "Got that?"
"Fine. You can go wherever you like. See if I care." He grabbed his cloak and yanked it on, not noticing that it was inside-out. "And don't you come crying to me later that you had a dreadful time and you're sorry you went, because I'm not going to care."
"And I'm not going to care if you don't care." She wriggled her nostrils at him, the Calamarian equivalent of sticking one's tongue out.
"And I don't care that you don't care that I ... oh, to Hells with it!" He stomped toward the door, pausing only to whirl around and stab a finger toward her. "And I do NOT have a fat head!"
"Oh yes, you DO!" she cried, but the door had already buzzed shut and Obi-Wan was long gone.
Bant took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Obi-Wan was a good friend, but he could be so ... so ... superior sometimes, she thought. She was an apprentice, just as trained as he was, and she was only two years his junior.
Besides, females of all species matured faster than males, that was a well-known fact.
With that thought in mind, she took one last, swift glance in the reflection glass before heading out the door.
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Bant had stood outside the cantina for what felt like hours, debating whether to enter or not. She'd tried to get a glimpse inside, but a huge door guard was blocking her view. She could certainly hear the music, smell the heavy scent of various brandies and smoldering tabacs and caught a brief glimpse of purple rak' feathers bouncing by, no doubt part of some exotic dancer's outfit.
It didn't seem like a good place for a lone Calamarian female, even one who was in training to be a Jedi. But Obi-Wan's words still stung and she was determined to prove to him who was in the wrong, even if she would just go inside for a minute, grab an embossed drink holder and leave.
The door guard glared at her. "Are you going to stand there all night or come in? Make up yer mind girlie, no loiterin' allowed."
Bant stiffened and lifted her chin. Wrapped her cloak tightly around her and strode past the guard, straight into the cantina, her head held high.
And was forced to duck exactly one-second later as a flying tray of drinks came within six helimeters of taking off the top of her head.
The sounds of raucous laughter boomed through the bar and a large humanoid tottered toward her, reeking of smoke and Cyrthian brandy.
Bant held herself as tall as possible, and swallowed hard. Drunks were her least favorite sort of creature, she'd met enough of them to know they weren't much fun at all.
The humanoid peered blearily at her. "Heya, Fishy. Wanna go fer a swim?"
Bant's temper immediately fired, but she forced herself to remain calm. "No, thank you," she replied icily and quickly sidestepped him in an attempt to make her getaway.
She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her as she squinted through the smoke, looking for the refreshment area. She was just going to buy one of those glasses that said "Crypt's Cantina" on it, bring it back to Temple and show it to Obi-Wan.
That would wipe the superior look off of his face, she thought smugly. She'd tell him she'd had a marvelous time and what a shame for him that he hadn't been there. Oh, and he'd gape and jaw at her, hemming and hawing and wouldn't she have the last laugh.
This pleasant thought so distracted her, she was only vaguely aware of the large band of spacers that had gathered to her left. They were a motley crew, consisting of at least six different species, ranging from a tiny, mangy-looking Ewok to a huge, heavily scarred T'wiak.
"Say, whattsa matter, Fishgirl? You don't like our friend over there?" The tallest one, a Kelsiant mercenary, pointed to the drunken man she'd just left behind and she could only gape at him in reply.
The Ewok chittered dangerously at her, showing rows of tiny, sharp teeth, and Bant hesitated. Her lightsaber was clipped onto the thin belt she'd hidden within the folds of her new dress, but she didn't want to pull it out.
Not if she had any other choice.
But the crowd of men around her thickened, and grew closer, their slurred taunts sounding louder and Bant swallowed drily.
Her choices had rapidly shrunk to a grand total of one.
The Kelsiant glared at her. "Yeah, what is the matter, you little . . ."
He never finished his sentence as a cloak-covered blur came flying overhead and landed squarely atop the T'waik, who yelped in pain as he hit the floor. The cantina quickly exploded into a mass of brawling bodies, all of them punching, biting, kicking and scratching and Bant did her best to avoid the limbs that were wildly flailing all around her.
The small human who had leapt into the crowd, the one who had started the brawl, caught Bant's eye just as the drunken humanoid lurched toward him, murder in his bleary eyes.
"Obi!" Bant cried, but it was too late.
A long arm swung out, caught Obi-Wan squarely in the eye and he hit the floor with a resounding "thud." She swooped over and covered her friend as best she could, hoping fervently that if anything were to land on them, it would be an Ewok, not a Wookie.
The bouncers pushed their way through the crowd and seconds later, the fight was over, and the brawlers were hauled away toward the cantina door, en masse.
Including Obi-Wan and Bant.
"And STAY out!" yelled the door guard as he unceremoniously dumped the unconscious Obi-Wan in the gutter. Bant quickly followed and tripped over her fallen friend, landing beside him right into a puddle of dubious origin.
Her new sharet was torn and stained, her make up was certainly a mess and poor Obi-Wan groaned as he slowly came back to consciousness.
"Oh, Obi," she sighed and with great effort, she brought both of them to their feet and together, they limped away, back toward the looming Jedi Temple.
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"Ow . . ."
"Hold still and it won't hurt as much."
Bant gently moved the cold pack away from Obi-Wan's battered nose, making sure it still covered his swollen eye. "You know, I could have handled it myself," she sighed. "You didn't have to leap in like that."
His good eye stared at her accusingly. "Yeah, right."
"I could have. I don't need "rescuing" Obi-Wan Kenobi." She looked at him sternly but her expression softened as she looked over the lumps and bruises he had taken for her. "But . . . I'm glad you were there anyway."
The single eyed closed. "Humph." Another groan, this one when he moved his arm. "The worst part of this will be telling Qui-Gon."
"Why? Will you get in trouble for following me?"
Obi-Wan snorted. "No. I'll get into trouble for losing the damn fight."
She made a small noise of surprise. "Oh. Well, we'll accentuate the positive then. How about if we increase their size by, oh, a few meters?"
"Or their numbers by about a dozen." He chuckled. "Say, can we turn the Ewok into a Wookie?"
"Well, they both are sort of furry," she replied doubtfully, as she picked up a wet cloth and wiped away a muddy smudge from Obi-Wan's cheek. "But will that really explain the bite mark on your knee?"
Obi-Wan grimaced horribly. "Not really." He sighed. "I suppose I'll just have to tell him the truth." He groaned again and struggled to sit up. "It's going to be a long, long week that's for sure. I just hope he doesn't make me take another "Defense Through Serenity" class with Master Donal. If that course was any more serene, I'd have died of boredom three times over."
Bant shook her head and gently pushed him back down onto the pallet. "No, I'll go tell Qui-Gon. It's all my fault anyway. You see . . ." She looked down at the floor and felt the heat of embarrassment fill her cheeks. "I really didn't want to into the cantina anyway. I was only in there to get a glass to prove to you that I had. It was stupid and selfish of me and I'm sorry Obi-Wan. I should have listened to you in the first place."
A smile slowly crept onto Obi-Wan's features. "Are you saying that I was right?"
Bant blinked. "No . . . I'm, uh, saying . . ."
"You're saying that I was RIGHT!" he howled, his pain obviously forgotten. "I can't believe it! Come on, say it again! Come on, Bant, say 'Obi-Wan, you were right."
"I said no such thing." She scowled fiercely at him. "I merely said I should have taken a portion of your advice into account. A tiny portion of it."
"She said I was right," he murmured dreamily to no one in particular. "I can't believe it, I actually lived to see the day and hear those words, straight from her mouth."
She glared at him. "How would you like another bruised eye?"
"You can do whatever you like, my friend," he said piously. "But that will nay change yon course of historie, for mine own ears hath heard the words thou does't now forsake and . . ."
"Oh, do shut up." She rose with a huff and the wet cloth hit Obi-Wan's forehead with a splat.
"Ow," he groaned, but she could see he was smiling, even as she made her way to the door and out into the hallway. It was her night out still, and she certainly had learned something, she thought dolefully as she made her way to Master Jinn's quarters.
Yes, tonight was a definite lesson . . . without a doubt.
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fini
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