Orin had volunteered for kitchen duty. Aside from being a good cover for him, he actually did enjoy cooking every now and again. And so as the trainees with culinary skilled worked cheerfully, so did he. Such an easy and enjoyable thing, cooking. A shame that he wouldn't be able to say the same about the rest of his plan.
Wedge, Luke, Han, Chewie, Leia, Jacen, Jaina and Anakin all sat around one table, with the other Jedi scattered across the large and typically empty room at small tables or larger clusters. After the appetizers but before the main course, Luke brought up the subject of whose idea the banquet had actually been. "What do you mean, Luke?" asked Leia, perfect confusion and innocence in her voice that Luke didn't believe for a second.
"It was you." Wedge added easily. Luke sighed. It would seem this had been a group effort.
"Wedge, I found out about this thing shortly after you all got here. Fine, you pulled a practical joke on the Jedi Master, I was too lax, never suspecting you would do something so juvenile, you got me. Now, whose idea was this?" He grinned to show he didn't mean the harsh part. Still, Han and Leia had been parents close to six years now, and he doubted they would do that. Wedge, on the other hand, refused to admit defeat, and Luke had no doubts he would like to stay a fighter jockey forever. "Wedge, you set this up on your own?
"No, Luke, honest, I didn't." Wedge kept his face solemn, and Luke couldn't detect a trace of deceit in him as he continued to relay his tale of the note given to him in Janson's twisted way.
"Now that's mighty interesting…" Luke mused, but dinner was served, so he turned his attention to eating for the time being.
Orin was stricken. His ship had blown the engines out as soon he had tried to escape. It was too early, but he hoped that with the extra distraction of the banquet, by the time news leaked of his disappearance, he would have enough of a head start to simply fade into the background. Unfortunately, that didn't seem likely to happen at anytime soon. He would just have to wait out here for another month or so, and when he had developed his talents with the Force to their fullest, after a suitable delay of false struggling, head out once again into vast reaches of space. Unless, of course, he got caught first. He was by no means a good shot or even a criminal mastermind, just a pilot with a talent for lying. He wasn't even a particularly good pilot, come to think of it.
Fett allowed himself a small smile. Eighty thousands credits was a tempting sum, but even more than that, he was enjoying this job. He had grudges of his own, ones that none but he could ever know. He was losing his cool, he knew, but this was personal, this was revenge.
Luke finished his meal and sighed with pleasure. Some of the trainees had been desperate for a chance to show off their cooking skills, and now he knew why. Still, he was so sleepy. An agreeable meal can do that to you. He thought, leaning back in his seat and drifting into unconsciousness. All around him, others were doing the same. Everyone was so content, so sleepy… so peaceful as they drifted off one by one.