Chapter Seven
Kyp sat at the bar in the pilot's lounge, contemplating his brandy and, far more important, how to get Jag and Jaina to fall for each other. His mind skipped over several possibilities, all of them impossible because he didn't own love potions, really really strong cord, or any of the other innumerable objects necessary to carry out his schemes. And most importantly, he thought, I don't have ysalamiri. I'm gonna hafta comm Karrde and tell him I need some if I expect to die due to natural causes.
Sipping his brandy, he leaned against the counter and noticed a young man sitting to his side, drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Or, more aptly, drowning his alcohol with his sorrows. Kyp grimaced as he watched the whiskey get more and more diluted with salt water as the pilot continued to empty his saline solution sockets into his drink. Kyp recognized the young man as Dagran, a pilot with the Blackmoon squadron.
Kyp turned away, his mind returning to his dilemma. He was yanked from his reverie, however, when the young man choked, "How do you do it?"
Kyp turned and looked behind him. Seeing no one there, he returned his attention to the pitiable sight before him. "Me? Do what?"
The other man laughed sardonically. "You're Kyp Durron. The Kyp Durron. How do you do it?"
Kyp was confused. "Are you asking me how I became Kyp Durron? Well, I hope you know the basic mechanics, because if you don't, I am not explaining the krayts and the gornts to you."
Dagran shook his head and wobbled on his stool. "No," he said. "How do you make women flock to you like piranha beetles to raw flesh?"
Kyp winced. "Lovely analogy," he murmured. "Well, I don't particularly notice the piranha beetles, but I suppose it's because I stole a superweapon, tried to kill my Master, blew up a planet, broke every bone in my body except the three in my ear, and offered my squadron on the proverbial sacrificial altar, so to speak. I don't know; I guess women find that attractive."
Dagran's mouth had dropped as Kyp spoke. "I'll never get her now," he wailed. "I don't know where any superweapons are kept and I don't have a Master to kill!"
Kyp raised an eyebrow. "What exactly is your problem?"
Dagran reached into his pocket and withdrew a holocube imprinted with a picture of a young woman. He tossed it to Kyp. "That's Zela," he said. "The most beautiful girl to ever breathe."
Kyp studied the holo. She certainly isn't bad looking, he admitted. But I wouldn't say she's the most beautiful girl in the universe. Jaina is, he thought fondly with all the pride of an older brother. He returned the cube. "So. what's the problem?" he asked again.
Dagran looked up. "The problem? The problem?! The problem is she'd never fall in love with me!"
Kyp mentally rolled his eyes. Please, please tell me this isn't happening, he thought. Please! Everywhere I go, dense, lovesick individuals follow me. If I have a sign on my forehead saying "Come Cry on Me," then there's definitely a sign in its vicinity saying "I Love Lovesick Lovers. Tell Me About It!"
Dagran mumbled into his cup as he swayed unsteadily on his stool. "So purty. So loverly. So intally.intolly. intelly. smart."
Kyp clapped a hand over his eyes. If I close them reeeeally tightly, I can just imagine Jag sitting here instead of Dagran, he thought wryly. Force, their names even rhyme! Jag... Dag... "Just tell her you love her!"
Dagran stared at him. "Geez, man, you're pasy. posy. really smart!" he slurred. He got up from his seat and staggered out of the lounge calling, "Zela! Ze-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-la! Zela-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!!"
Kyp closed his eyes in relief. One potential headache down. Only ten hundred billion more to go. Sighing, he drained the glass and stood to go as well. He needed to get back to his quarters and take some Astarin.
He stood there a few more moments, lost in thought. Then, he shook his head and murmured, "No, that won't work. One, I'm not that sadistic, and two, the reason why I'm not that sadistic, I don't own any stun cuffs."
Walking out of the lounge, he heard a rather large commotion coming from down the hallway. Curious, he followed the noise and turned the corner, then stopped still in surprise. A large group of assorted pilots were clustered around something, and Kyp nearly groaned aloud when he heard the distinctive slur of Dagran.
"And then he just says, 'Tell her you love her.' And so I did, and now look at us." Several wet smacks could be heard as Dagnar paused. "Oh, look. There he is now, Kyp Durron, the Love Doctor!"
The body of pilots turned in one motion and ran towards Kyp. Fearing for his life and/or sanity and/or all of the above, Kyp turned and ran.
************************
Kyp sprinted into his room and slammed the door shut, breathing hard. His shirt had been torn by too many overeager hands belonging to too many overeager pilots clutching too overeagerly at his clothes as he tried to escape them. Okay, he said to himself, time to settle this once and for all.
Reaching out to the zealots trying to break his door down, he gently nudged their befuddled minds and convinced them that Dagran held all the answers to their problems. He grinned to himself as the pilots all turned and rushed back the way they had come.
However, because he felt the slightest twinge of conscience at subjugating Dagran to that torture, he also managed to convince the drunken young man that he was better off moving the free show to a room. Then, Kyp strode purposefully towards the fresher door. Quickly sliding it open, he went directly to the mirror and peered at his reflection.
What is it about me that invites everyone to share their troubles with me? he wondered. Are my eyes too green? My chin too firm? My features to even? My handsomeness too compelling? Unable to resist, Kyp flexed his arm and admired its reflection. Oh, yeah. I'm so buff. Lookin' good, he thought as he paraded in front of the mirror, humming a jazzy tune.
Kyp, what are you doing?? Jaina's thoughts interrupted his own.
Kyp started guiltily and dropped his arm. "Uh. nothing," he said aloud, blushing. Furiously he thought, Get out of my mind!! Can't you tell when I'm busy?
Of course I can, Jaina taunted. That's always when I need you the most.
Kyp slammed their connection shut after sending a shove through first. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. After inspecting his image a bit longer, he finally decided that his face was too inviting. I smile all the time at everyone, and even when I don't smile, there's that glint in my eye that's just asking for it, he thought. Well, I can fix that!
************************
Half a standard hour later, Kyp studied his reflection once more. He hadn't bothered to change out of his torn T-shirt and had smeared engine grease all over his face. His upper lip was curled in a perpetual snarl and he squinted his eyes. "Arg," he growled experimentally. I like it.
Kyp swaggered out into the hallway, incorporating a limp as well and snarling at everyone he passed. Needless to say, people began giving him a wide berth when they saw him coming. I'm really enjoying this, he thought. Just then, he saw Jaina go into a conference room down the hallway. Perfect.
Kyp crept stealthily up to the room into which Jaina had gone. Grinning to himself, he suddenly pushed open the door and leapt in, growling. "AAAAAAAARG!!!"
Twenty faces belonging to the New Republic's most prominent citizens snapped around, including the distinguishable features of Wedge Antilles. "Durron, what is the meaning of all this?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sooo... what did you think?
Kyp sat at the bar in the pilot's lounge, contemplating his brandy and, far more important, how to get Jag and Jaina to fall for each other. His mind skipped over several possibilities, all of them impossible because he didn't own love potions, really really strong cord, or any of the other innumerable objects necessary to carry out his schemes. And most importantly, he thought, I don't have ysalamiri. I'm gonna hafta comm Karrde and tell him I need some if I expect to die due to natural causes.
Sipping his brandy, he leaned against the counter and noticed a young man sitting to his side, drowning his sorrows with alcohol. Or, more aptly, drowning his alcohol with his sorrows. Kyp grimaced as he watched the whiskey get more and more diluted with salt water as the pilot continued to empty his saline solution sockets into his drink. Kyp recognized the young man as Dagran, a pilot with the Blackmoon squadron.
Kyp turned away, his mind returning to his dilemma. He was yanked from his reverie, however, when the young man choked, "How do you do it?"
Kyp turned and looked behind him. Seeing no one there, he returned his attention to the pitiable sight before him. "Me? Do what?"
The other man laughed sardonically. "You're Kyp Durron. The Kyp Durron. How do you do it?"
Kyp was confused. "Are you asking me how I became Kyp Durron? Well, I hope you know the basic mechanics, because if you don't, I am not explaining the krayts and the gornts to you."
Dagran shook his head and wobbled on his stool. "No," he said. "How do you make women flock to you like piranha beetles to raw flesh?"
Kyp winced. "Lovely analogy," he murmured. "Well, I don't particularly notice the piranha beetles, but I suppose it's because I stole a superweapon, tried to kill my Master, blew up a planet, broke every bone in my body except the three in my ear, and offered my squadron on the proverbial sacrificial altar, so to speak. I don't know; I guess women find that attractive."
Dagran's mouth had dropped as Kyp spoke. "I'll never get her now," he wailed. "I don't know where any superweapons are kept and I don't have a Master to kill!"
Kyp raised an eyebrow. "What exactly is your problem?"
Dagran reached into his pocket and withdrew a holocube imprinted with a picture of a young woman. He tossed it to Kyp. "That's Zela," he said. "The most beautiful girl to ever breathe."
Kyp studied the holo. She certainly isn't bad looking, he admitted. But I wouldn't say she's the most beautiful girl in the universe. Jaina is, he thought fondly with all the pride of an older brother. He returned the cube. "So. what's the problem?" he asked again.
Dagran looked up. "The problem? The problem?! The problem is she'd never fall in love with me!"
Kyp mentally rolled his eyes. Please, please tell me this isn't happening, he thought. Please! Everywhere I go, dense, lovesick individuals follow me. If I have a sign on my forehead saying "Come Cry on Me," then there's definitely a sign in its vicinity saying "I Love Lovesick Lovers. Tell Me About It!"
Dagran mumbled into his cup as he swayed unsteadily on his stool. "So purty. So loverly. So intally.intolly. intelly. smart."
Kyp clapped a hand over his eyes. If I close them reeeeally tightly, I can just imagine Jag sitting here instead of Dagran, he thought wryly. Force, their names even rhyme! Jag... Dag... "Just tell her you love her!"
Dagran stared at him. "Geez, man, you're pasy. posy. really smart!" he slurred. He got up from his seat and staggered out of the lounge calling, "Zela! Ze-e-e-e-e-e-e-e-la! Zela-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a-a!!"
Kyp closed his eyes in relief. One potential headache down. Only ten hundred billion more to go. Sighing, he drained the glass and stood to go as well. He needed to get back to his quarters and take some Astarin.
He stood there a few more moments, lost in thought. Then, he shook his head and murmured, "No, that won't work. One, I'm not that sadistic, and two, the reason why I'm not that sadistic, I don't own any stun cuffs."
Walking out of the lounge, he heard a rather large commotion coming from down the hallway. Curious, he followed the noise and turned the corner, then stopped still in surprise. A large group of assorted pilots were clustered around something, and Kyp nearly groaned aloud when he heard the distinctive slur of Dagran.
"And then he just says, 'Tell her you love her.' And so I did, and now look at us." Several wet smacks could be heard as Dagnar paused. "Oh, look. There he is now, Kyp Durron, the Love Doctor!"
The body of pilots turned in one motion and ran towards Kyp. Fearing for his life and/or sanity and/or all of the above, Kyp turned and ran.
************************
Kyp sprinted into his room and slammed the door shut, breathing hard. His shirt had been torn by too many overeager hands belonging to too many overeager pilots clutching too overeagerly at his clothes as he tried to escape them. Okay, he said to himself, time to settle this once and for all.
Reaching out to the zealots trying to break his door down, he gently nudged their befuddled minds and convinced them that Dagran held all the answers to their problems. He grinned to himself as the pilots all turned and rushed back the way they had come.
However, because he felt the slightest twinge of conscience at subjugating Dagran to that torture, he also managed to convince the drunken young man that he was better off moving the free show to a room. Then, Kyp strode purposefully towards the fresher door. Quickly sliding it open, he went directly to the mirror and peered at his reflection.
What is it about me that invites everyone to share their troubles with me? he wondered. Are my eyes too green? My chin too firm? My features to even? My handsomeness too compelling? Unable to resist, Kyp flexed his arm and admired its reflection. Oh, yeah. I'm so buff. Lookin' good, he thought as he paraded in front of the mirror, humming a jazzy tune.
Kyp, what are you doing?? Jaina's thoughts interrupted his own.
Kyp started guiltily and dropped his arm. "Uh. nothing," he said aloud, blushing. Furiously he thought, Get out of my mind!! Can't you tell when I'm busy?
Of course I can, Jaina taunted. That's always when I need you the most.
Kyp slammed their connection shut after sending a shove through first. Now, where were we? Oh, yeah. After inspecting his image a bit longer, he finally decided that his face was too inviting. I smile all the time at everyone, and even when I don't smile, there's that glint in my eye that's just asking for it, he thought. Well, I can fix that!
************************
Half a standard hour later, Kyp studied his reflection once more. He hadn't bothered to change out of his torn T-shirt and had smeared engine grease all over his face. His upper lip was curled in a perpetual snarl and he squinted his eyes. "Arg," he growled experimentally. I like it.
Kyp swaggered out into the hallway, incorporating a limp as well and snarling at everyone he passed. Needless to say, people began giving him a wide berth when they saw him coming. I'm really enjoying this, he thought. Just then, he saw Jaina go into a conference room down the hallway. Perfect.
Kyp crept stealthily up to the room into which Jaina had gone. Grinning to himself, he suddenly pushed open the door and leapt in, growling. "AAAAAAAARG!!!"
Twenty faces belonging to the New Republic's most prominent citizens snapped around, including the distinguishable features of Wedge Antilles. "Durron, what is the meaning of all this?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sooo... what did you think?