Mr Pine – By Runespoor Oracle

Disclaimer: No, I don't own this. Do not sue, please!

Falling…Falling in a blaze of pain and anger. A blast that seared his very soul – and then –his conscious mind was split into fragments of white hot agony – and then –

His eyelids were stuck shut. He wrenched them open. The world was a black infinity, so this was it… limbo. Well, it could be worse, it could be –

"Are you alright?!" shrilled a distressed female voice. "Oh, my dear man, how awful! What happened?! I thought the worst for a second there!"

Alright, he thought dreamily, I was wrong. I'm stuck in limbo with a stupid elderly woman. Then his aching body was wrenched over and light poured in, light from some sun made the man squint in stupefaction. A cloudless blue sky filled his vision, beautiful in its vastness. He was alive! They had failed. He would seek his revenge move gruesome and terrible that before! All would suffer! All would –

"It looks like he's alright, Mrs Yalé!" a girl said, in a slightly petulant whine. A large bosom intruded into the man's vision, a whistle dangling between. The bosom seemed to be wearing a white sweater of some kind.

"It's fine girls, he's awake!" A large sweaty hand that could've held five of the man's thin, bony ones, grabbed his left hand and pulled. If the bemused man had not struggled to his feet his wrist would have dislocated.

This brought a large pink face into focus. Located somewhere in that massive edifice, the man espied an even pinker mouth and cheerful hazel eyes. He simply stood there blinking, his eyes going in and out of focus.

"Well," said the mountain of woman, shaking his shoulders, "He's wee bit hazy! Zara and Sara, take him to the sick bay! The rest of you…"

- The air was spit by a deafening whistle that assaulted the eardrums and proceeded to decimate his already spinning senses –

"…Back to practice! Hup!"

The man gazed blearily up at two concerned young faces. They were both a head taller that him and had identical mousy hair, muddy eyes and freckles. They both had their hair pulled back in a short ponytail and were wearing what looked like red school uniform shirts and the tiniest blue shorts he'd ever seen.

"Hey, you'll be fine…" Zara or Sara said. "Yeah, you'll be fine…" said whoever didn't speak first, putting one long tanned arm under his. "We'll just get you to the school nurse," said the original speaker, hooking her arm under his other side.

They progressed in silence across a big field, towards some large brick building with an unidentifiable flag flying from the roof. There was a pool and various courts some way off.

The man was beginning to sort out the mess called his head. He remembered young Skywalker and the treachery of Lord Vader and then white light and unbearable pain. How had he come here? He reached out with the Force, there were humanoid beings all around, happy and sad and so on… but the presence of no other force user… What was going on?

The best option was to find out his situation before letting his anger out on these pathetic beings. Then he could put these creatures in their place!

"Where am I?" He asked, voice a little shaky, but kind never the less. "Oh, right, well you're at Waterford Boarding School, which is up in the Taks."

"Yup," agreed either Zara or Sara, "because we're not supposed to escape!"

"So who are you?" asked the girl who wasn't the girl that had volunteered the last rather unhelpful bit of information. "I mean, why were you lying face down in the sports field?"

"My name is…" His real name wouldn't do, nor would any of his previous aliases… "My name's Tapal Pine."

The twins looked at one another over the back of his head. "Oh, is Tapal Indian or something, Mr. Pine?" said one as they helped him up the steps, earning the curious gazes of many girls of a similar age, who, now he was out of the "sports field" did not seem to be wearing the horrible shorts, but trousers and skirts of the same colour.

They helped him down a long, polished, wooden corridor. On the walls were symbols in Basic declaring what number the room was. "Tapal" was obviously on a very primitive planet, the doors were on hinges!

Marie detached herself from a group of gossiping girls. That man being helped down the corridor looked just like Palpatine in Episode II; he was even wearing a black robe! How strange. She followed the twins and their charge to the Nurse's office. Could it be that actor…Ian McDiarmid? Should she go in and ask for his autograph? But what if it wasn't him? That would be so embarrassing!

Marie Dellow was a Star Wars fan – had been for ages. If it was him, and it did look like him, she could get the actor of her favourite character's autograph! The question was… which was more important, not getting embarrassed if it wasn't him, or possibly getting his autograph…

If anyone had been watching Marie staring at the opaque door glass of the Nurse's office, they would also have seen her pull out her notepad and a pen and walk determinedly into the sick room.

The nurse, a plump woman wearing glasses, called Mrs Joale, had made Tapal submit to a hoard of questions, mentioning something called a "phone number," but Tapal had simply stated his name and the fact that he couldn't remember anything else. Amnesia was too easy.

She'd given him a raised wooden bed and told him to lie down for a while. This planet really was primitive. Not even any droids, and the toilets… well… he didn't even want to think about the state of hygiene around here!

The nurse had just gone into a side room, though a door covered in a colourful poster about "Eating Your Greens!" when a blond girl, wearing the uniform with trousers, snuck into the room.

She advanced toward him on tiptoe, looking around carefully to ensure absolute secrecy. "Hey," she whispered when she drew near, "are you… who I think you are?"

Had she recognised him? "Who do you think I am, child?" he asked, staring into her blue eyes. "Well… erm… you just sorta um look like the actor who plays Emperor Palpatine from the 'Star Wars' movies… sorry!"

Marie, face pink, turned to go when a pale hand gripped he wrist tightly. "What do you mean by actor?!" said the Man-Who-Was-Not-An-Actor, in a deep rasp that made Marie think of Palpatine even more. "Ah… well, you know…"

"No, I don't know!"

"Well you've seen Star Wars, right?"

"No."

"Oh right. Well… what's wrong then?"

The man waved her closer and Marie found her face right up against two eyes that had previously been blue, but had now turned a sickly yellow colour. "I am your emperor and you will obey your Master!"

Whatever would have happened next is anyone's guess, because the Nurse walked back in. "Miss Dellow! Mr. Pine needs his rest!"

Mr. Pine and Miss Dellow stared at the irritated nurse.

"Ah… Mrs Joale, please leave me to talk to Miss Dellow, I think I might know her," this was said with a tight smile, as if the wearer was afraid his smile would fall off if he didn't keep in on a close reign. He had blue eyes.

"Oh, well, if she helps Mr. Pine… Just call me when you need me!" smiled Mrs. Joale, face lighting up like a bespectacled pig sensing truffles, before exiting via the same vegetable covered door.

Now, earlier that day, in Geography, Marie had made a wish. Admittedly, it was a silly irresponsible little wish, but it was a wish never the less. And the wish, doodled beside the population of Sweden, had gone like this: "I wish that Star Wars was real."

Now a wish like this normally wouldn't be answered. Of course it wouldn't, but with a displaced emperor cruising through space-time…

Marie looked into the eyes of the man in black robes. "Are you really… you know?!" she squeaked excitedly. Mr. Pine was a little taken aback. "Would you like a display of my power or would you prefer to believe me?" he said, a definitely not phantasmal note of menace in his voice. "Ooo! Display, display!"

This, Mr. Pine felt, was not the effect he'd been hoping for. So he raised a hand and levitated the thirteen year-old girl off the floor, and then proceeded to choke her.

"Akgffheffff!" Mr. Pine let Marie drop to the ground. He sat on his flowery mattress looking at her thoughtfully.

"Oh my God," she moaned, "It's all real." Marie looked up at Mr. Pine, dazed. "Master!" she muttered, before rearranging herself into a kneeling position.

"Would anyone recognise me?" he enquired, once she had assumed her properly servile attitude. "No Master, I'm the only one apart from three other girls who would suspect. Others would dismiss the possibility as foolish." Marie grinned to herself, was this great or what?!

"Excellent. Where is this world located?" Mr. Pine asked, for the first time feeling more secure. "Er… We have not yet achieved space travel, master… I only have knowledge of our own system."

Here was a drawback… "Are there any other civilizations on this planet?" Marie almost laughed, "No, master."

Mr. Pine's pale and blue veined hands curled into fists. What a ridiculous situation! "Then how do you know of my Empire?!" he hissed. The girl swallowed, "Well, Your Imperial Majesty," (Marie had always found it vaguely annoying that Luke had addressed Palpatine as "Your Highness," it showed the young Jedi's lack of breeding.) "A man called George Lucas invented your Galaxy in a… a sort of holovid. Until now I'd assumed it was just fantasy… but now you're here and…"

"…And you're wondering how, obviously." Mr. Pine could sense she was telling the truth. This was very disturbing, this news. Was he dead? How had he come here? Was it an alternate dimension perhaps? Then, inevitably…

"Does anyone here have the Force?"

"No, Master."

"They believe it to be a fiction, from this so-called holovid?

"Yes, Master,"

"Nor has anything like it been seen before?"

"No, there is a belief in magic and stuff, but no one can really do it or believe in it."

"Excellent."

Marie risked a glance up. How cool! She gripped her notebook, onto which was stuck a sticker bearing the legend: "Palpatine for President!"

"So, how do I leave this school?"

"Well, apart from walking for days, there's only one way you can leave. There's a bus on Fridays and Sunday evenings."

"Explain, child."

"Well, it's Monday today so basically there are five days before you can leave."

Mr. Pine's thin lips twisted into a frown.

"Ah! Here he is! Mrs Yalé just told me what happened on the field." A booming voice issued from the hall. It was followed into the room by a grizzled, balding man of middling height.

"So I came down to see for myself, old chap!"

Mrs. Joale rushed into the room. "Headmaster, this is Mr. Pine, he's had a bit of a blow to the head, I'm afraid, can barely remember his name."

The Headmaster seemed to take this as a sign that his remarks didn't have to be addressed to Mr. Pine, so he turned to the nurse. "Well, what'll we do with him until Friday? I suppose we could put him up in the vacant dance instructor's rooms…"

"Silence," came Mr. Pine's sibilant hiss. Silence, there was.

"You will give me this vacant position until Friday and declare me a substitute teacher. You will also pay me the contents of your accounts for this valuable service."

"I will give you this vacant position until Friday and declare you a substitute teacher. I will also pay you the contents of my accounts for this valuable service."

He turned to the nurse, "You will inform anyone who cares to know that I suffered from heat stroke,"

"I will inform anyone who cares to know that you suffered from heat stroke,"

The newly named Mr. Pine stood up and smiled at his victims. "Headmaster," he read the name tag, "…Groul, please show me to my rooms."

Marie's mouth had formed a little pink 'O'. She stared from the headmaster to Palpatine. "Can I come?" she asked, dropped jaw fighting and eventually losing the fight to the grin.

"Certainly you may follow me, child."

Mr. Groul led the new dance master to his rooms as if he were sleepwalking, causing many amused glances from the students. Who was the elderly man in black robes with the big nose?"

They halted outside a door marked "Private," Mr. Groul handed Mr. Pine a key and then he went cross-eyed, seemingly waiting for further instructions.

Mr. Pine rubbed the key between his thumb and index finger before saying, quite gently this time, "You will assume business as usual and fetch me the teacher who teaches the making of garments. You may then go."

Then, of course, the inevitable reply. Headmaster Groul hurried off. Mr. Pine passed the key to Marie, who opened to door.

Inside was the impersonal prospect of an unoccupied crème room with a view over the sports field and into the rising bush-covered mountains beyond. Mr. Pine sat down in an easy-chair and indicated that Marie should do the same.

Miss Trimp, the indignant sewing teacher, arrived soon after. Mr. Pine told the red-headed woman to make him several respectable outfits in black, grey and blue for a man of the teaching profession and a pair of loose black pants and a shirt of a similar colour. Also, six pairs of black socks and the same amount of underwear. Yes, that would be all and he would have them before dinner please, oh and don't tell anyone, if you would be so kind.

Marie just sat there, grinning. Who knew where this could lead?

AN:

Cackles Look out Earth!

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