Disclaimer: Naturally I own none of this.
A/N: The idea was floating around and once I started doodling Wikus with a lightsaber, I simply had to. This takes place along the Clone Wars timeline. Speech within / \ indicates Poleepkwa. Comments, reviews, input is always welcome.
Chapter One
Poleepkwa, Palace of the Hive
The deliberation chamber was drowning in the rabble of voices. The argument raged around the room, the Poleepkwa hurling their words at each other like weapons. It seemed, to the somber Jedi seated at the back of the room, that no two had the same opinion. She leaned her chin against one hand and returned her attention to the queen seated at the center of the room. On either side of the Poleepkwan queen sat her generals, both of whom were engaged in the argument. The queen made eye contact with the Jedi and there was a moment, all too brief, where both women made a connection.
/One thinks that this could never end.\
The Jedi turned, glancing at her companion. He was Poleepkwa, but unlike the others gathered here, he wore the robes of the Jedi. She offered him a quick smile.
"Perhaps we are not alone though," she murmured with a meaningful glance at the queen. The Poleepkwa queen was illuminated by the sunlight streaming in from the domed windows above. The white mantle of her office gleamed in the light.
/Whatever her feelings, her decision must reflect the mind of the Hive.\
The Jedi considered this, taking in the ongoing argument as she did. After a moment she sighed and sunk deeper into her chair. "Then, I hold little hope for our case Brpen."
/I am sorry Maeyn. I did warn you this would be difficult.\
"I know. I know."
The argument continued for several minutes. The passing of each minute blackened Jedi Maeyn's outlook. The Poleepkwa were not wholly against the idea of pledging allegiance to the Republic. But they were, Maeyn had noticed gloomily, the minority. Brpen had presented the Republic's request to the assembly that morning. The congress of Poleepkwa had listened politely to their brother. It paid to listen politely to a Jedi. After Brpen had put forth the request the generals had spoken, each in their turn extolling the fierce independence of the Poleepkwa. And the afternoon had devolved into a vehement shouting match between sixty Poleepkwa. Maeyn's nerves were raw from the shouting and she was controlling her temper with growing effort.
Finally the queen stood and silence descended upon the assembly. She was not the tallest of the Poleepkwa but her action had more effect then a blaster. The queen turned her eyes over her people. Maeyn found she was holding her breath.
/The day has been long. Valid arguments have been presented by all sides, I will consider our position further.\
Both of the Jedi stood, bowing in the direction of the queen who turned and swept from the chamber with her generals trailing behind. They remained standing as the rest of the assembly began to file from the room. The occasional Poleepkwa threw a hard look in the direction of Maeyn and Brpen but most ignored the Jedi as they left.
"Tense," Maeyn noted conversationally.
/Not unexpected.\ Brpen said.
"Yes, you did say. We will need to report this to Master Windu," Maeyn said. She fell into step with Brpen as they exited the chamber. They walked slowly through the halls. The pathways were labyrinthine, constantly branching off or bisecting some new route. There were no signs posted on the walls. Though occasionally the grey walls gave way to some brilliant splash of primary color. Brpen had explained the colors acted as signposts, directing various workers to their appropriate locations.
/It is simply not our way.\
Maeyn looked sideways at her friend and saw the worry in his amber eyes.
/They have never needed the Republic. Never has there been an enemy that could not be dealt with by the Hive.\
"Things change Brpen," Maeyn sighed. Brpen nodded, his antennae flickering thoughtfully. "The Separatists will not ask nicely and take the game somewhere else if they get a 'no'. Impressive though the Poleepkwa soldiers are, and the weapons they yield, the Separatists will send wave after wave of droids."
They came at last to their own apartments located in a quiet corner of the palace with windows overlooking the gardens. As the quarters assigned to visiting officials it was more luxuriously appointed than a standard Poleepkwa home. Maeyn paused to remove her robe, laying it over a chair before joining Brpen at the communications terminal. After a moment of fiddling with the controls the flickering blue image of Mace Windu appeared. He nodded and greeted the pair who appeared at his end in the same blue light.
"How goes things on Poleepkwa?" the Jedi Master asked.
"We have presented the request Master," Maeyn said looking sidelong at Brpen. He looked troubled but seemed to swallow it back, straightening as he regarded Windu's image.
/The Hive is hesitant to engage in a deal with the Republic. We have never needed the assistance of the Republic and the current members of the government seem determined not to start now.\
"How does Queen Mald stand on this?" Windu asked.
"We have been kept from speaking to her privately, so it's hard to say. However I sensed that she might be more receptive to us if we could gain an audience with her," Maeyn said. Windu nodded.
"Do your best to get that audience. Keep me up to date," he said and the three exchanged a brief farewell before the connection was terminated. Maeyn turned to Brpen with an arched brow.
"Well, any suggestions?"
...
Earth, District 10
At dawn Wikus rose. The day was promising more heat, he could feel it through the canvas walls of the tent. He sat up in the cot and stretched, reaching his arms over his head and arching his back. The tent was sparse, furnished with a narrow cot, a rickety table and a single chair. Over the years Wikus had added no personal touches, though a small stack of papers and books were kept tucked into an empty crate which also made a handy nightstand that sported a single lumpy candle resting in an empty cat food tin. He had refrained from collecting too much, this wasn't home and he wasn't going to forget that.
Standing he went to the flap, pushing it aside to glimpse the rose tinted dawn. There was little activity among the camp, he saw a shadow moving here and there, but it would be another hour before the prawns were really up and about. This made dawn an hour he treasured for its stillness.
Wikus retreated back into his tent and produced a meager meal for himself. Food was provided once a week to the prawns, distributed by MNU soldiers. The boxes handed out contained stale bread, dented tins of mystery meat, and produce that was already moldy. It had taken a long time to adjust to the strange new body that was both his and not his. The severe conditions of District 10 and the constant homesickness had not helped. But Wikus reflected, as he chewed through a slice of stale bread, he had never gotten use to the food.
Occasionally there was a relief package from one of the prawn sympathizer groups, but since that photographer and journalist had been caught photographing life in the camp, MNU had put a stop to that. He finished the bread and pushed away from the table with the edge taken off his hunger. It was a shame he reflected, those relief packages had been pretty good.
There was a light tapping at the canvas and Wikus turned, seeing a shadow outlined against the tent flap.
/Good morning.\ Wikus said, again opening the tent flap but the cheerful greeting died when he looked into the face of the prawn at his door. The prawn said nothing, but looked from Wikus to the small form cradled in its arms. Wikus followed the gaze and saw the slight form of the prawn child cradled there.
/I am sorry Wikus, but he has not eaten in three days. I - do not know what to do.\
Wikus stood aside and allowed the pair into his home. The prawn, whose name he thought was Adam Vernon, stood at the center of the space with his head hanging. Wikus laid a hand on the prawn's arm and pointed to his cot. Reluctantly the father laid his little boy there and stood nervously at his side.
/When was the last time you ate?\ Wikus asked.
/It is not so bad for me. I am used to it.\ There was a long moment of silence and the prawn added softly, /Five days.\
Wikus rummaged in his box of food and took out a can. The label had come off but he thought it might be some kind of tinned fish. He hoped it wasn't cat food. Prawn or not, he didn't exactly feel great about giving a mild drug to a minor. Wikus fumbled with the pull tab, his tentacled hand not as suitable to the job as his old fingers. But he opened it and passed it to the father who roused his son and began to feed the boy.
It would be another three days before MNU delivered food again. But as the boy eagerly ate Wikus busied himself filling a plastic bag with just a bit more food than he could spare. He could hear his beloved wife's voice in his head, giving her encouragement to his charitable gesture.
/Thank you.\ the father said, looking over his shoulder at Wikus. The prawn looked so vulnerable in his moment of need. Wikus felt his heart wrench and he scooped up his last tin of meat and dropped it into the bag. Wikus looked away in discomfort as he held the bag out.
/Please, keep your boy fed. You too man, your son needs a strong father to care for him, eh?\
There was no pride when your son was starving. The prawn took the bag muttering his thanks and looking at the floor. Wikus put another comforting hand on the prawns shoulder and tried to give him reassurance. But three other children had already passed away this month because of the inadequate food supply.
When the pair had left Wikus pulled out a small battered notebook from the crate at his bedside. A stub of a pencil was tucked inside and he sat again at the table, reverently opening it to his bookmark. It had taken a hell of a time to learn to hold the narrow pencil in these new hands. He had worked at it, mounting his constant frustration, until writing again became natural.
Day 579 - More of them are starving, three children have died this week. There might be more.
He paused in his writing. Every tent received the same amount of food, regardless of the number of prawns living there. The single box was barely enough to feed himself, he didn't know how the families managed. He sighed heavily and returned to his journal.