Danielle had never, ever been this nervous in her entire life. School plays, high school dances, first dates were nothing to this: she was almost shaking with tension.



In the movies, it hadn't looked so bad. Just a motley collection of humans and aliens, some almost amusing, seated in a circle around her, staring at her from every angle, scrutinizing her with every ounce of concentration they possessed. But combine that with all those minds touching hers, feeling, probing, ready to pounce at the slightest instigation . . . Even Qui-Gon's warm presence at her back and, eventually, his large hand on her shoulder couldn't fully quell the panic.



"So," Master Windu said, steepling his fingers, "this is your little enigma, Master Jinn."



"She is," Qui-Gon returned serenely. "I have brought her before you as requested, Masters."



From behind Danielle, a female voice spoke up gently. "What is your name, girl?"



Danielle turned to look at the speaker-Depa Billaba, she thought faintly. "Danielle," she said shyly, shifting from foot to foot.



"Do you know how you arrived at the Jedi Temple?"



Danielle turned to face Saesee Tiin. "Master Qui-Gon told me he found me unconscious in the street in front of the Temple, and I recall waking in his chambers, but before that I remember nothing."



"Yet you remember your name."



Danielle turned yet again, starting now to feel slightly dizzy, this time to face Plo Koon. "Yes, Master; that is one of the very few things I remember."



"Hmmm," Yoda said thoughtfully. "Such a mystery, you are! Do with you, what will we, child?"



Danielle turned again and raised her gaze to meet his jewel-like green eyes. For a moment, there was utter silence, as Earth Girl and Muppet regarded one another. Beyond question, beyond doubt, she knew that the little Jedi Master was reading the very depths of her soul, and everything she ever was or knew or dreamed was right there for him to examine. And somehow . . . instead of frightening or repulsing her, the trust that welled up inside of her was almost overwhelming. Please, Danielle found herself thinking slightly desperately, please don't ask me any questions I can't-I mustn't-answer! I mean you no harm, you must believe me!



Then, out of nowhere, Yoda smiled; Danielle blinked in astonishment.



"Such fuss over one so obviously harmless," he said mildly. "Let her be, we shall. Perhaps, return in time, her memory will."



Danielle simply stared at him, mouth slightly agape, her gratitude too great for words.



With a secretive smile, Yoda glanced at the other Council members. "Probed the girl's mind I have," he confessed. "Kind-natured, respectful, and a servant of the Light, she is. Jedi potential, she has."



The world upended itself. Only when she blinked and realized that she was being supported solely by Qui-Gon's arms did she comprehend that it was not the world which had done a gymnastic routine, but her.



"Are you all right?" Qui-Gon asked, obviously both concerned and startled.



"All right?" Danielle demanded unsteadily. "If he just said what I thought he said, I am far from all right!"



Now Qui-Gon smiled. "That you have Jedi Potential?"



"Yes! That!"



"If it makes you feel any better," he said gently, "I suspected as soon as you awoke the first time. There is a brightness to your spirit-a strength-"



"Stop," Danielle protested weakly, "or I-I might-"



"You might what?"



"Laugh-hysterically-like before-you remember-"



Obviously he did, because he helped her up again with alacrity. "No need to do that," he said hastily. "You're all right."



"I'll be damned if I'm all right," Danielle said, succumbing slightly to the huge well of profanity that had been building up inside her for the past few days. "This is getting almost cliched, isn't it? Now all I need is to be somebody's long-lost daughter or twin sister, et cetera." She looked at Yoda again, who had that smug I've-shown-you-haven't-I? look on his face. "It's true?" she asked, pleadingly.



"I'd have thought you'd be pleased," Windu said, shocked.



"Of course, it's too late for you to be properly trained," Billaba put in, "and you don't quite have the midi-chlorian count that we usually require, but the Force-sensitivity is definitely there. I'm surprised you weren't identified early. Were you born outside the Republic?"



"You could say that," Danielle replied, fighting with all her willpower to keep sarcasm to a minimum. Consider the war she was already waging against hysterical laughter and familiar Pythonic impulses, this was no easy feat.



"But, while you are here," Yaddle chimed in, "as you seem to have already bonded with Master Qui-Gon, he will take on helping you develop your sensitivity and control your powers."



Qui-Gon started visibly. "I'll what?"



Danielle gave him a smile for which she was infamous on earth and which made her previous terrifying smiles seem trivial in comparison. "I couldn't have chosen better myself," she said sweetly. As Qui-Gon went an unhealthy shade of white and began looking about wildly, as though seeking escape, she sidled up next to him and purred, "At least if I'm trapped in this downwardly spiraling farcical delusion, you're strapped in the front seat right next to me, Qui-dear."



"'Qui-dear'?" Mace repeated with barely concealed delight.



"Masters," Qui-Gon said, backing away from Danielle as though she were toxic, "I already have a padawan. Surely some other Jedi-Knight Verrail, perhaps-"



"But, Qui, I want you!" Danielle sobbed, grabbing his arm desperately while affecting her most pathetic expression.



This had varied effects. Qui-Gon looked torn between amusement, terror, and indignation, and couldn't settle on one emotion long enough to spit out a retort. Yoda smiled more deeply, green eyes sparkling, while Mace seemed close to fits of hysterical laughter. The rest of the council, however, seemed touched by this patently genuine plea.



"Settled it is, then," Yoda said with a tone of finality.



Completely disregarding Qui-Gon's, "How is this settled?" Mace said maliciously, "Teaching this girl and allowing her to stay with you for a while will not interfere with your training of young Kenobi. In fact," Mace's grin broadened even more, "I suspect they will get along very well."



There they go again, hinting all these ominous things, Danielle thought uneasily. However, as she was currently clinging to the horrified Master's arm like some sort of soap opera reject, she had quite truthfully brought this upon herself and it was a bit late to back out now. Besides . . . it was in all likelihood going to be the most fun she'd ever had in her entire life.



Qui-Gon still hadn't accepted his sentence. "But . . . but . . ." he tried feebly.



"No buts," Mace said sternly. "Can't you see the girl wants you?"



"But . . ."



"Protest not, Jedi should, when give them orders their Council does," Yoda said maliciously.



Qui-Gon looked mutinous. "This isn't fair."



"That's an infantile evasion," Danielle said brightly. "Do you have some real reason you don't want to help me?"



Staring into her intent, deep-brown eyes, Qui-Gon found himself at a loss for a reply. "Well . . . no."



"So then take me on or come up with a good reason not to," she said as only she could.



For a moment he was silent as a battle of wills took place. Yet again, Danielle emerged victorious. "All right," the Jedi Master muttered ungraciously, "you win. You're my quasi-padawan. Ye gods, what a mess."



"What plans have you for the girl, hmm?" Yoda inquired.



Danielle perked up again. "After the meeting, Qui offered to take me shopping."



Qui-Gon shouted, "Offered?" just as Depa Billaba said, "Why, Qui, how sweet of you!" and Mace grinned, "But you make such a smashing Jedi, my young friend."



Danielle decided she liked Mace an awful lot too. Glancing down at herself, she said, "Yes, I do deserve the outfit now, don't I? But it doesn't fit perfectly, and these boots are way too big. I'd like some things that are really mine, to wear along with Obi-Wan's old things."



"That won't be a problem," Plo Koon said kindly. "Besides, Master Qui-Gon needs to get out into the city more often. He's getting too detached from the people he protects and serves, holed up here in the Temple. This shopping trip will be a learning experience for him."



"Taking a teenage girl shopping is a learning experience for anyone, I imagine," Adi Gallia put in drily, amused.



"It seems that settles it, then," Mace said happily. "Take the girl shopping, get her some new things, enjoy yourselves. I think the two of you will be good for each other-well, mostly you, Jinn."



Poor Qui-Gon looked like he'd just been sentenced to life imprisonment. "You are a little, little man, Mace."



"Others to see, we have," Yoda interrupted. "Finished with you two, we are."



Qui-Gon bowed resentfully, then poked Danielle to do the same. As they turned to leave, Danielle felt a strange sensation of disappointment. Yoda had seen everything she was. Surely he'd also realized-



"Young one," his scratchy voice rang out behind her as they reached the door, stopping them in their tracks. Danielle turned, half-afraid, to regard the tiny Jedi Master. "Yes?"



For a moment they merely locked eyes again, then, slowly, gracefully, Yoda slid from his chair, set his gimmer stick on the floor . . . and opened his arms.



With an irrepressible squeal of delight, Danielle shot back across the room and gathered the tiny alien in a huge bear hug.









Annie was lost.



There was no getting around it. She was in a strange city, she was penniless, the light was fading, and she was completely clueless.



How much better could this get?



As if in answer to her question, she turned a corner-right into a group of four stormtroopers.



Her double-take was not only wholly unintentional, it was patently obvious. The troops glanced over, took one look at her colorless expression, and headed over.



Annie debated fleeing-hey, insanely stupid ideas had worked for her before, hadn't they?-but when the nice troops leveled their blasters at her, she decided she'd just wait this one out.



As she patiently waited while they surrounded her, the one who was obviously in charge came over and stood right in front of her. "What are you doing around here?"



The Force, apparently, was still with Annie, for a lie instantly came to mind. "Just negotiating water contracts with some people in town," she said lightly, hoping her total otherworldliness wasn't too apparent. "I'm Annie Whitesun." Take that, George Lucas, she thought belligerently. I'm Beru's fictitious sister. So there.



"Yeah, I recognize you," one of the others spoke up, causing Annie to choke and then pretend it was dust. He what? Before she could even fully absorb the implications, another said, "So you are. What are you doing here all alone, little girl?" She imagined that if she could see through his helmet, he'd be leering at her.



What I wouldn't give to be able to do the mind whammy right now, she thought ruefully. "Like I told you, I'm-"



"Doesn't that brother of yours usually come with you?"



Brother? What brother? Annie tried hard not to guffaw and succeeded . . . just barely. "He's . . . sick." Or nonexistent, take your pick . . .



They exchanged glances. "Sick, huh? And what about our arrangement?" the first finally asked nastily.



Okay, this is so totally unfair I can't even find words for it, she thought plaintively. If I'm going to be thrust abruptly into a totally alien world, I should at least be told the rules! "Arrangement?" she repeated carefully.



To her absolute shock, this earned her a hard cuff on the jaw that sent her reeling, her eyes watering, a gasp of astonishment choking from her throat. "Don't play stupid, girl," another said fiercely. "He said that next time he came to town, he'd have the money."



Yet another sneered audibly. "He's not here . . . but you are."



"So where is it?" the last piped in.



Annie felt almost sick again. "I . . . what money?"



She ducked the cuff this time, but got a blaster stuck under her chin in response. "You know.

Our little wager. Where is it?"



"I don't have it," she managed to choke.



"Don't you? Well, how about a nice trip up to Debriefing so you and them can discuss it? How's that sound, missy?"



"Look," Annie said, beginning to panic, "I don't-"



She wasn't exactly sure what she'd have said, but, luckily, she never had to say it. From further down the alley there suddenly came an unreal booming scream, echoing painfully loudly in their ears. As one the stormtroopers whirled to face it, guns at the ready-and Annie, knowing a Sign From God (or the Force, probably) when she saw one, took off in the other direction, hoping that stormtroopers really were as bad of shots as they'd always seemed.



She was almost around the corner before they started after her, and a spattering of shots pummeled the ground at her feet. Gritting her teeth, she propelled herself to a greater speed, whipping around corners as often as possible but still not fully losing her pursuers. At last, she turned another corner . . . and realized she'd hit a dead end.



She stopped, panting, to look about herself wildly. It wouldn't be long. Mos Eisley wasn't that big of a place, really; she was done for, after all . . .



"Hey!" a soft, strangely accented voice called from her right. As she whipped around to look at it, she realized a cloaked figure was standing in a dark doorway over which flashed an imposing neon sign. "Are you all right?"



She glanced at the other. "Not really," she said suspiciously. Then, in a sudden rush, she heard herself say, "The stormtroopers are after me." As soon as she'd said it, she was horrified, realizing she'd given herself away.



However, to her supreme amazement, the figure paused a moment, obviously considering, then beckoned to her urgently. "Quick! In here!"



Annie did some quick considering herself before she decided that she really didn't have much of a choice. Darting after the mysterious figure, she hurried down a staircase, watched as the figure closed the door behind them, then surveyed her surroundings.



She appeared to be in a . . . bar? 'Dive' seemed like a more appropriate word, but she wasn't in the mood to be picky right now. It was out of sight . . . and deserted except for an alien behind the counter, who was staring at her intently.



Behind her, her mysterious rescuer pushed back its hood . . . revealing a scaled alien with violet skin, molten gold eyes, and a flaring rill. The alien behind the bar, in contrast, was furred, with cat-like eyes and whiskers to match.



"What's this?" the other asked gruffly. "Another stray?"



"The stormtroopers are after her," Annie's rescuer said in a surprisingly musical voice. "I offered her sanctuary."



The other grunted disdainfully as he looked Annie over. "Well, she's here. Now what're we gonna do with her, huh?"



As if on cue, a door opened somewhere, and a small, slender human woman came down the stairs. When she caught sight of Annie, her eyes widened. "Who's the girl?"



"Rebel," Annie's rescuer answered. When Annie started, she pinned her with that intense golden stare. "Aren't you?"



Annie made some lightning-quick decisions. If she was in Star Wars, in the classic trilogy, she would most certainly want to be a rebel. They did win, after all. "Yes, of course."



The lizard-like woman nodded sharply, satisfied. "The stormtroopers were chasing her," she told the other two, and the feline man scowled. "Good riddance, I say."



"Come off, Jiano," the human woman barked. "We always help those who need it. The Empire isn't going to fall unless someone does something about it!"



Jiano grunted and began polishing the bartop fiercely. "Better do something with 'er right quick, then," he commented. "Regulars'll be gettin' in any minute now."



"True. And where can we hide you, my friend?" the lizard-woman asked softly. "I'm Essra, by the way."



"Annie," she returned.



"I'm Cassandra, and I have an idea," the human woman said. "Why not hide her in plain sight?"



Essra looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"



Cassandra grinned. "What if . . . I should happen to fall ill . . ." She grinned widely. "We'd need a replacement singer."



Essra looked at Annie appraisingly. "Can you sing, girl?"



Annie considered this for a moment. "Nothing special, but if it's necessary, I'm sure I could manage."



"Good!" Cassandra exclaimed, hurrying toward them. "Now, I'm going to just take you upstairs, and get you into some clothes and makeup and a hairstyle, and trust me, baby, they'll never recognize you. We'll plunk you up on that stage with that band behind you, and you give it all you've got-and we're home free."



"All-all right," Annie said weakly, vaguely aware that she had, at last, fallen in with the right crowd. Cassandra took her arm and pulled her upstairs before she could manage anymore, up several flights, and into a small room. Locking the door behind them, she pointed Annie to a screen and said, "Get behind there and pull this on." She handed her a long-shift like garment which was entirely bewildering to Annie, but she did as she was told.



When she emerged, clad only in the shift, she was ordered to put her arms in the air and stand still as Cassandra tugged something over her head and into place. Annie felt elaborate pads and swells of fabric fit snugly over her skin, and when she looked down she found herself staring at an almost ridiculously voluptuous body clad in a shimmering blue sequined dress. Next Cassandra handed her shoes to put on while she put Annie's hair tightly up and then pulled a wig on over that. Whipping Annie around, she slung half a dozen gaudy necklaces on her and thrust bracelets on her wrists over the long sleeves. She then applied clouds of makeup so rapidly that Annie sneezed helplessly when she was done and wondered if her real face was still there. Then, she was hauled in front of the mirror to examine herself.



"God," she said involuntarily as she saw the apparition that confronted her. "I look terrible."



"Not that bad, actually," Cassandra said firmly, "but they'll never recognize you, will they?"



Annie stared into the mirror and a slightly overweight, over-done, bright red-haired drag queen stared back. "No," she said drily, "they won't. I'll look like some runaway psycho clown meets Tina Turner."



"Bravo for me," Cassandra said briefly, then tugged on her hand again. "C'mon, time to get you downstairs-Essra'll have already told the band the skinny, but you need to be down there pronto to explain to the regs why you're there."



"You're sick?"



"With heat stroke. Happens all the time. I'm a hypochondriac. Nobody'll question a thing.

You're some girl I spotted in a third-rate dive on Merxk Street and hauled here for part time work, if anyone asks that much. The words are on a teleprompter on the far wall, just below the painting of the ocean. Talk about wishful thinking." All this while, Annie was clattering down the stairs, feeling totally overwhelmed. "I'll tell the band nothing hard, just nice and mellow stuff so you can keep up. If we need to prolong this arrangement, we can talk more about music later, right, chica?"



"Uh . . . right."



"Good. Now, put your stage face in place, because you're on!" She shoved Annie through what looked like a blank wall-and as she stumbled forward into a sudden bright light, she realized she was standing on a tiny stage in the corner of the bar, in the spotlight, with a now moderately full house of customers staring at her-and her mind went completely blank.









To her credit, Krista really, really tried to do everything right.



But, come on, this was Krista we're talking about. Combine with dress, makeup, high heels, high expectations and a nonexistent universe, and you've got a whole heaping of trouble.



Things weren't so bad at first. They walked down the tiled halls in a careful formation, Amidala leading, the six handmaidens trailing neatly after, and everyone they passed bowed or curtseyed deeply. Krista rather liked it. Then, when they reached the hall where the banquet would be taking place and the doors swung open with a fanfare, she had an epiphany . . . and things just went downhill from there.



From the right of the giant doors, the crier said ringingly, "Queen Amidala, of the Naboo."



Everyone fell into a deep gesture of respect of some kind or another. The Queen paused for a moment, regal, then swept in as everyone rose. Krista waited . . . but nothing else happened.



"Um, hello?" she asked Eirtae, who was next to her. "Why aren't we announced? Are we just not important, or something?"



Eirtae looked flabbergasted. "I'm sure I don't know. It's . . . tradition, I suppose."



Krista glanced indignantly over at the crier . . . who, to her intense surprise, winked. "It's marvelous to have you back," he whispered, then, compounding her shock, raised his voice again and cried, "The Ladies Sabe, Sache, Yare, Rabe, Eirtae, and Kristae!"



Amidala looked back in surprise as the entire hall broke into excited murmurings. To the left, a man Krista recognized as Captain Panaka shot a terrible look at the crier, who grinned unrepentantly, then winked at Krista again. Grinning right back, she winked as well before sweeping after the others to the long banquet table set out before them.



Amidala sat at one end, with her handmaidens spread around her. Then were the delegations from Gerogonia, including the King himself, the prince, and his retainers, all in shocking pink. Further down were Amidala's court.



Krista, to her intense horror, was seated at the end of the string of handmaidens, with dear, dear Sache on her left . . . and the Gerogonian prince on her right. Marvelous.



He was cute enough, she supposed. Tall and dark-haired with the kind of swimmingly blue eyes a girl could just drown in . . . if that was your type of guy. For Krista, it wasn't, so when he met her eyes and gave her a charming smile, she shot him a coolly polite one in return and wondered who'd done the seating arrangements.



When everyone had settled into their seats as gracefully as possible, Amidala rose, and the entire hall fell silent. "Representatives of Gerogonia," she began smoothly in a strange accent Krista hadn't heard before, "people of Naboo, esteemed guests. We are gathered here today . . ."



Dearly beloved, Krista thought, amused, but that emotion quickly faded. The speech that followed was one of the most boring she'd ever heard in her entire life, but everyone else seemed to be listening raptly, so she assumed an interested expression and let her mind wander.



Then, she contracted the hiccoughs.



They started out small enough, innocuous and innocent so that she could muffle them in her hand. Then, they developed to the point where others were beginning to stare at her, oddly, as though she were doing this deliberately. Doubling over, she brought up a fold of her dress to try and further muffle the sound, but soon her hiccoughs were loud enough to rival Amidala's speech, echoing off the soaring tiled walls and bouncing back in disturbingly elongated syllables that sounded like curse words or the speech of someone mentally retarded.



When the other guests were beginning to have to conceal laughter, Sache hissed urgently, "Here! Drink this," and thrust a glass of water into a grateful Krista's hand as Amidala continued, unperturbed.



Krista took a few sips of water, hoping it would help. She wanted to die. If only they didn't echo so much-



"GRRRRAAAAHHH!"



Krista let loose a bloodcurdling scream and shot back from the table so quickly her chair upended, taking her-and her water glass-with it. As everyone else leapt up in similar alarm, she lay there stunned, still shaking. When she felt strong arms pulling at her, she at first resisted, then realized the Gerogonian prince was helping her to her feet.



"I'm soaking," she said in dismay, looking at herself, then glancing wildly around. "What the he-hey was that?"



The prince gave her that 10,000 watt smile as he righted her chair and pulled it back for her. "I did it."



She stared at him, stunned. "You what?"



"Frightening someone is an excellent way to remove their hiccoughs. Or hadn't you heard that?"



Krista stared at him, caught between horror and amusement. "You-you did that to help me get rid of my hiccoughs?" she managed, noticing that most of the other guests were shooting him singularly evil looks.



He shrugged carelessly. "They're gone, aren't they?"



They were. "So they are," she managed somewhat unsteadily. "I-thanks, I guess. I'd have preferred a less dramatic method, but-beggars can't be choosers."



"Indeed," he replied, seating himself beside her with a very smug expression.



At the head of the table, Amidala looked like it was taking every ounce of her willpower not to laugh, but somehow she contained herself. "Well, then," she said smoothly. "If the excitement is over, may I continue with my speech? Oh, good." She resumed her gentle platonic niceties, and Krista tried her absolute hardest not to giggle or swat the Prince grinning so self-assuredly next to her.



However, the evening's troubles had just begun. Just as she was starting to enjoy letting her mind drift and ponder just how she'd get to Qui-Gon, she was scared half to death by a strange, tickling sensation on her leg.



She froze, caught between terror and hysteria, hoping she'd imagined it. When it wasn't repeated, she relaxed somewhat. Surely she'd just-



There it went again: a slow, feather-light, deliberate touch tracing up her right leg.



For a few moments she contemplated the fact that she might well be going insane, and this reassured her somewhat. Heck, she was already in Star Wars; a little madness couldn't compound the problem very much.



However, on the third occurrence, the touch lingered a second too long, and she recognized it for what it was.



She was out of her chair so fast she wondered if being in Star Wars hadn't given her some Jedi reflexes. "You!" she shrieked at the prince, pointing at him accusingly and trembling with rage.



The prince looked as innocent as it was possible for a person to look-except for the fact that one of his feet was now shoeless, and the missing shoe had been kicked carefully under his chair.



When the hurlyburly following the realization of what had happened finally ended, Krista was sitting next to Amidala and a very steely-faced and sharp-finger-nailed Sache was next to the over-friendly Gerogonian prince. If Amidala had to try any harder not to dissolve into hysterical laughter, she might very well split the seams of her elaborate gown.



Krista sat, sulking, throughout the rest of the speech, knowing she was unfairly in disgrace and not liking it one bit. What kind of messed up galaxy was this, anyway, where she was punished for accusing-truthfully-some guy of trying to play footsie with her?



When Amidala's speech ended and the food came out, however, her mood lightened considerably. Despite being exotic-her friends had gotten rid of any fear she might have of new foods-it looked absolutely sumptuous, and she grinned in an almost predatory manner when a plate was set before her.



Of course, nothing in this place was as simple as it looked. In the very middle of her plate was a small, tightly curled, reptilian thing that looked like it might well still be alive. Disregarding this, she turned her attention to the small shelled creatures off to the side, decided these were too complicated, and eagerly began consuming the freshly baked bread and icy cold salad greens.



These devoured, she eyed her plate appraisingly-lizard or marbles?-before deciding on the latter.



However, her desire to eat them by no means had any relevance to her skill. Maneuvering the plate so they were in front of her, she braced one with her fork and sawed at it hopefully. Nada. Not to be defeated by a meal, she replaced the fork with a spoon and gave a hard downward slash at it, but only succeeded in slipping it a few centimeters to the side. She tried this several more times, and with each the tiny shell remained unmarked.



At last, her temper fraying, she slammed the edge of her knife down on the rebellious shell fiercely-and, in response, it shot like a bullet off of her plate and flew down and across the table . . .



With a feeling of absolute horror, Krista watched the Gerogonian King open his mouth to say something-and the shell that she had launched pop neatly into his open mouth and lodge in his throat.



Krista, for her part, was too stupefied to do more than remain motionless, her mouth agape, as the King choked, sputtered, and rose unsteadily to his feet, clutching at his throat. It took the other guests a few moments to realize the elderly man couldn't breathe, and then Panaka expertly performed the Heimlech maneuver on him.



The shell came flying out of his mouth and landed in an open space in the middle of the table, the shell, of course, neatly broken open.



No one seemed to know just how a shell had magically gotten stuck in the king's throat, and since no one accused her, Krista was none too keen to volunteer the information. Though several suspicious glances were shot her way, no one could prove anything, and so after several minutes the dinner resumed yet again.



Now on to the last dish on her plate: the repugnant lizard-thing. The last thing Krista wanted was to try and eat the little monster-but it would probably be considered an insult not to, or something equally catastrophic. Screwing up her resolve, she took her fork firmly in hand, summoned her courage, and gave it a firm poke-



-at which point it uncurled, sprang to its feet, extended a tiny rainbow-colored rill, and hissed at her menacingly.



It goes without saying that once again the chair was upended, Krista on the floor with panicked screams, and the other guests in a panic. However, this time the lizard made a beeline for none other than Rabe, seated at Krista's right, and launched itself unerringly onto her-and then, as she fell backward, screaming, it headed for the only safety it could find: down the front of her gown.



The pandemonium of the previous accidents was as nothing to what followed. The gallant Gerogonian prince, ever eager to help a damsel in distress, attempted to remove the lizard, but Sache leapt on him and beat him until he left the still screaming Rabe alone. As everyone else gathered around and attempted to be useful or either just witness the phenomenon, the unsurpassable Yare leapt on Rabe, swiftly slit the front of her dress with a steak knife as the onlooking crowd gasped in shock, and freed the lizard, who promptly fled into a nearby air duct. Fortunately, as Rabe was wearing no less than three layers under the dress itself, she wasn't revealing anything but a stiff corset to the astonished guests-but she still didn't stop screaming and babbling hysterically. The Gerogonian King, still disgruntled from his near-death experience, watched all with a glowering expression, and the prince was at last subdued after having been whooped by Sache.



All in all, Krista thought glumly as Amidala and Sabe led the still-blubbering Rabe away and beckoned the others to follow, her first night as a handmaiden hadn't exactly been what she'd call a rousing success.



Succumbing to the inevitable, she let her head droop as she followed the others out.