LL1 36 Free Drink
Kess came to this pub only once before. She didn't crave the excitement of the gambling tables and most of her desire to drink until the early hours was nipped in the bud at the thought of being picked up with invisible hands and dropped into cold, crashing waves. Tomorrow morning, she would probably get dunked. She didn't want to imagine Luke's reaction at zero five hundred when he learned that his Jedi apprentice had a ripe hangover.
"Well, running didn't work," she grumbled into her drink. "I'm venting my passions the standard military way." She giggled as herself, "Us mere mortals—
Her voice trailed off as the fleeting thought passed too quickly before she could finish her sentence.
She tipped the glass to let the final sip dribble into her mouth and slammed it on the bar. "I guess that's what I get for falling for some omnipotent hero." She gazed sluggishly at the empty glass until a hand pulled it away and replaced it with a full one. Dark blue swirls poisoned the murky white milk into a concoction that would make a Bothan lose all its hair.
Was that my sixth? Or my seventh? Wait. "I didn't order another drink."
She raised an eyebrow at the bartender. He motioned to a gambling table behind her.
Kess turned on her stool. A small sea of gambling tables murmured with various species and quiet games, only occasionally spiking with a polite applause of victory. It took Kess a moment to focus and scan the area until she found a pair of eyes returning her gaze. Through the smoky air, a dark-skinned man with a dashing white smile saluted her with two fingers.
Kess had a rule never to turn down a free drink. She picked up the glass and stood carefully. Concentrating not to stumble, she walked between the tables to the man. He sat comfortably at a blue velvet table and reviewed the solid looks from the other players.
"You looked like you were drowning your sorrows." The man said, requesting another card with a simple wave of his hand. "I thought I'd aide you in your quest."
Kess stepped behind him to watch the game, "That's awfully observant of you." She checked the numbers glowing from the betting monitor and her eyes went wide.
"Do you play?" he asked without turning, "Why don't you sit down and join us?"
"I play a little, but I don't have that kind of money to lose."
The man grinned, "As long as you lose, we don't care what kind of money you have."
Chuckles rolled through the other players. Kess looked at each of them in turn, sensing a variety of elation, deceit, and fear riding on their surface emotions. It occurred to her that she could sense who was bluffing and who had a decent hand. With the Force as her ally, she could make out like a bandit in a single round.
Her conscience prodded her, though. That would be cheating and unfair to her opponents. She would end up stashing the loot somewhere and not touch it, unable to shake the guilt. And if the others ever found out about her hidden abilities, she would surely have a death mark on her head higher than her salary. No wonder Luke didn't gamble.
The man tugged at his mustache with his fingers and, as per the dealer's instruction, laid his cards on the table. Kess and the others players recognized an Idiot's Array.
The gentleman bowed his head at them while the dealer downloaded his winnings.
"Thank you ladies and gentlemen. It's been a pleasure." The man stood, took his drink, and politely ushered Kess to an empty table not far away. Kess sat cautiously down.
"I saw you working on a Corellian Freighter the other day." He looked her confidently in the eye and sipped his drink. "It happens to be exactly the ride I'm looking for."
Kess sat back, "Sorry. She's not for sale."
He leaned forward in his chair, "I'm not looking to buy her. I need transport. That freighter is the perfect size."
She shook her head sympathetically. "My skipper's in the middle of a deal. I'd love to help you, but I really don't think we're available for cargo." The undercover story rolled once through her mind, remembering all the fine details to pull off this probably innocent conversation.
The man shrugged. "It couldn't hurt to ask. Why don't you take me to your Captain and I'll make it worth his while."
Kess brought the glass to her mouth and stared at him over the rim. She may have been half-drunk, but she wasn't stupid. "Why don't you give me the information where you can be reached, and my Captain will decide for himself if it's worth his while."
Black eyes smiled as his first ploy unraveled. "I need to see him sooner than that."
Kess heckled madly at him, "Look, what do you expect me to do? You buy me a drink, pull me aside and demand that I take you to my leader? I don't even know who you are."
He smiled bashfully, "I'm sorry," and offered a hand to her, "My name is Han Solo."
Kess snickered, shook her head, and started to get up.
The man dropped his gaze to the table top and spoke cold and low. "And your reaction admitted your connection with Solo. You're the Lieutenant assigned to the Falcon while the New Alliance is here for the Frakkan treaty." Black eyes lifted to meet hers again. "Right?"
Her laughter died an uncomfortable, miserable death.
Luke showered and changed into pajamas. He forced himself to concentrate on what he was reading, but his mind wandered off for the twentieth time in this hour alone. He tossed the datapad aside on the couch and pulled his legs off the footrest. A single light in front of the elevator was the room's only illumination and reflected off the dirty dome head of his sleeping droid. Artoo hunched in the corner of the sitting area next to Threepio, who was just as lifeless.
Leia and Han had turned in hours ago. Chewie went to bed shortly after that. The suite had been deathly quiet ever since, no quiet rush of wind through the elevator shaft, no click of the card key to open the doors. He looked at the chrono on the wall.
2307.
Luke pulled himself off the couch and turned around, reviewing the dining table. Datapads cluttered its surface and chairs weren't pushed in. He strolled tiredly up the step towards his room and looked again at Kess' bedroom door resting open.
Giving in, Luke shuffled his feet to her door. He rested his shoulder on the jam and turned on the light.
The pale blue bedcovers crumpled slightly in places where she'd sat on it after the B9 droid cleaned her room. Civilian ankle boots sat neatly on the floor and army green jumpsuit hung over the back of the desk chair. One of the pillows on her bed was crooked, but it wasn't depressed with the telltale sign that she'd rested her head in it.
His brow furrowed. He peeled his shoulder from the door and walked across the floor. Pulling up the pillow, he found a brass hilt of a lightsaber hiding underneath as if she had been staring wishfully at it before going to sleep every night.
Luke picked it up with a weak grin, rolled it over in his hand, and flipped open the side panel. A wad of components cleanly soldered together inside, the dummy load fitted next to the gaping hole where a crystal should have been.
She had finished the dud saber to completion except for the crystal. Luke smiled and sighed sadly, closing the panel with his thumb until it clicked back into place. He detected the faint smell of her perfume and the mustiness of canvas coveralls. He could almost feel the afterimage of her playful crush.
Luke realized he had closed his eyes to envision her smiling face and shook the vision from his thoughts. He put the saber back in its place and laid the pillow neatly over top of it. His bare feet padded on the carpet as he left the room and crawled into his own bed. As he cuddled his shoulder into the mattress, he looked at the chrono on the comm screen.
2322.
She'd been gone nearly eight hours.
Maybe he reacted too harshly to her, but he thought he'd made his requirements clear when she had the vision weeks before. She didn't try to hide how she felt about him. The look in her eyes was often obvious. Luke forced himself to ignore it daily, hoping that it would just go away, and pretended not to notice the flavor of emotion she radiated at him.
Control, Yoda's voice echoed in his memory, you must learn control.
How do I teach her keep control until her training is over?
He sighed into the darkness of his room and whispered aloud, "When training is over, Kess..." He listened to the sound of her name in the air, "Kesselia K. Lendra..."
He remembered the rooster tails of sand she'd kicked up as she clumsily chased down the skittering mugrat, and how ungracefully she toppled over the crest of the sand dune. When he finally cleared his eyes of sand from his own fall, her tousled hair shined in the sunlight. Her cheeks flushed with laughter and her eyes glowed with attraction. It was the first time anyone had looked at him like that in… ever.
Luke's own self-control crumbled to her spell. He told her a farm boy story with farm boy emotions and farm boy laughter, and just like any pretty, city girl would, her self-control broke down to kiss the farm boy to see if he would blush.
Luke caught himself beaming into the darkened room as he remembered it. He remembered the smell of her and the taste of her. He remembered his conscious thoughts fighting loudly against his own control. Open your stupid mouth and kiss her back!
Not until training is over.
Just this once, he decided not to meditate himself to sleep. In a Jedi Trance, he didn't dream. And even though he couldn't kiss her back now, no law said that he couldn't think about it. He imagined what he would do if he could, and a smile spread across his lips as he drifted into a mortal sleep. He would dream on command, about a teen-aged, farm boy/pilot response to a city girl kissing him in the sand dunes.