General Yoda let out a surprisingly dark laugh, then opened the crinkly flimsi bag of caf beans from Chella Chuchi. The smell of fresh caf was so strong that Hunter blinked twice, then once more. The caf he sneaked in the early mornings was usually double- or triple-strength, depending, but this was on a whole other level. If Hunter's caf was level Thirteen Thirteen, these caf beans were Senate level. . .
The strong, pleasant aroma dragged him out of his sugar-induced semi-stupor, and he looked around. With mild alarm, he noted that his three teammates were sitting upright, abruptly more alert than they had been ten seconds ago.
Tech's eyes were glassy, both unfocused and focused at the same time. Crosshair's were way too sharp. Wrecker's . . . Wrecker's were almost wild.
Hunter observed his teammates as a vague thought crossed his mind. Maybe, given the strictly balanced diet they normally lived on, it hadn't been a good idea to suddenly eat sugar in large amounts.
General Yoda didn't seem to be concerned by any of this. He reached into the bag, withdrew an entire caf bean, and put it in his mouth. Crunching loudly despite his apparent lack of molars, he gave a satisfied hum and ate another. "Roasted caf beans – the best, they are," he said in a grave voice, but the look he slanted at them was bright with an evil glee. "Eat some, you should."
"Okay!" Wrecker grabbed a small handful and tilted his head back to pop them in his mouth. He chewed twice, then shivered violently. "Uh – whoa, these are –"
His eyes watered, but he finished chewing and swallowing. . . probably because Crosshair was watching him with that 'I'll bet you can't do it' look.
The instant Wrecker swallowed, he shuddered all over and rushed off. They could hear him rummaging around in the stash of drinks they kept.
General Yoda watched him leave, then let out a self-satisfied cackle. "A beginner, he is. The annual contest, win it, he would not."
Hunter frowned, curious and wary all at once. "There's a contest for eating caf beans? Where?"
The Jedi narrowed his eyes, then let his gaze drift off into the distance with a look of sleepy indifference. "Somewhere, it is."
"Hm." Tech looked up from his datapad. "I see no evidence of any such contest."
"Exist, things do, despite lack of evidence," Yoda chided him, and ate another caf bean before turning to Hunter. "Find it, you will not. Find it, Master Windu will not. Find it, the Security Force will not . . ." He straightened, gestured wildly with his gimer stick, and barked, "FIND IT, NO ONE WILL!"
Hunter jumped, taken aback by the outburst. Tech only tilted his head, as though trying to follow Yoda's reasoning process.
General Yoda paused to take a breath, then visibly calmed himself, closing his eyes to a mere slit. "Exist, this contest does. But only in my mind. Powerful, the mind is, yes . . ."
Hunter looked at Crosshair, who tapped the side of his forehead meaningfully.
Without looking up from the slowly disappearing caf beans, General Yoda whacked the sniper across the shins with his gimer stick. "Crazy, I am not."
At that instant, Wrecker stomped back into the room, draining the last bit of water from a bottle. "Wow!" he said loudly, shaking his head. "You gotta be crazy to eat those by the handful!"
Hunter winced and glanced sidelong at Yoda.
The general chewed thoughtfully, reached for another handful – Force, he's eating them like tuber chips! – and said, "Then perhaps, crazy after all, I am. But if crazy I am, then crazy Fox is. And crazy, Senator Organa is. And crazy, other commanders are . . . and crazy, other Senators are. . . and crazy, other Jedi are . . . and so crazy we all are and hope there is not."
With that calm, rapidly spoken summarization, he held the bag out to Tech.
Tech opened his mouth, closed it, then spoke stiffly. "I do not understand the appeal of eating caf beans."
Hunter glared at him for the blatant and obvious lie. "Yes, you do."
"I do not. Caf beans, particularly such as these, would be far better used by being made into the actual drink most commonly associated with the word 'caf'."
Yoda set the bag on the floor and leaned inside, struggling to touch the rapidly lowering level of caf beans. "Speak in words of one syllable, know how, do you not?"
"It would seem not," Tech sniped back, idly toying with a caf bean.
"Prove me wrong, you just did." General Yoda chomped another handful of beans.
"I intended to." Tech crossed his arms huffily. "Besides, the grammatical structure of your sentences leaves much to be desired."
"Old, I am," Yoda told him, hunching into his Jedi robe as though suddenly feeble and weak. "But old enough to speak normally, I am not."
Crosshair, who had been sitting on the workbench, rolled his eyes and slid abruptly off the seat and onto the floor. "That makes absolutely no sense."
"You can say that again!" Wrecker clapped Tech on the back, laughing.
Hunter was still mulling over a previous segment of the conversation. "Tech, if you can't make these beans into caf, then why wouldn't you eat them instead?"
"What makes you think I would want them?"
"Because you eat caf grounds," Hunter accused. "And don't think I haven't noticed."
Tech blinked at him, expression guilty for perhaps half a second, then looked back at the caf bean in his hand. "I was not certain you had noticed. But now that I know you have –"
He put it in his mouth, and reached for another.
And then, when he'd finished that, another. And another. Wrecker watched with open-mouthed surprise. Crosshair began edging away.
The ninth time Tech reached for the bag, Hunter shifted. "Teeeeech . . ."
"Yes, Sarge?" Tech replied, raising an eyebrow as though having no idea what Hunter could possibly want to discuss. He reached for another.
Yoda smacked his hand aside. "Out, we are running!"
"And whose fault is that?" Tech retorted.
Hunter felt his eyes widen in shock.
"Your fault, it clearly is," the general shot back. "Hmph. The last bean, mine it is."
But Tech had already withdrawn the coveted caf bean. He held it between his fingers at the height of his shoulder and watched curiously as the Jedi Master, in an attempt to take it back, began to hop up and down like a Klatooine paddy frog.
"There are other bags," Tech finally pointed out.
"But different roasts, they are!"
Crosshair leaned closer to Hunter. "Was there alcohol in those chocolates?" he asked uncertainly.
"Not . . . that I know of."
"Hm." There was a short pause. "Am I the only one seeing this?"
"No," Hunter admitted, unable to look away from the bouncing grandmaster. "I don't think – unless we're all hallucinating the same thing . . ." Doubt set in, and he turned to Wrecker. "What are you seeing?"
"Uh, General Yoda hopping up and down. . . and Tech counting to see how many times he'll do it?"
Hunter snapped his gaze back to Tech's face – sure enough, his mouth was moving slightly, forming the names of numbers. He was on twenty-eight.
"Probably a good idea to intervene," Hunter suggested uncertainly.
"Go ahead." Crosshair leaned back against the wall and draped his forearms over his knees in an attitude of supreme unconcern. His attention was focused less on the Jedi and Tech and more on the untouched boxes of chocolate behind them.
Hunter was about to reprimand him, but then the realization sank in that General Yoda wasn't paying attention to the chocolate.
A quick snatch-and-run might work better in this case than a more stealthy approach. He met Crosshair's look and nodded once, signaling with two fingers for him to circle left.
He himself edged into position, ready to dart around Tech.
"Uh, Hunter?" Wrecker whispered loudly, nudging him. He pointed to the still-hopping Jedi general, whose jumps continued to fall short by a few vital centimeters. "Why isn't he using the Force?"
"I . . . don't know," Hunter said, just as Crosshair hissed, "Don't give him ideas!"
Yoda landed abruptly. "Tired of this game, I am," he announced. "The caf bean, this instant, return."
"Why?" Tech asked.
"Because said so, I did."
"That does not seem to me to be a convincing argument."
Yoda snatched Tech's datapad from the chair, clutched it to his torso – which was all but hidden from view by the datapad – and said, "Then return this, I will not!"
Hunter was sure that the glaring match that followed was impressive even by Crosshair's standards. Neither the Jedi nor the caf- and sugar-influenced Tech looked away or even blinked.
Hunter and Crosshair began edging around the two combatants.
Tech lifted the caf bean slightly. "I will hide it somewhere on Coruscant."
"Do that, and hide your datapad in the Jedi vaults, I will."
"I can get into the vaults."
"Get in without this datapad, you cannot."
"Revenge is not the Jedi way."
"But justice, the Jedi way is."
Tech's lips narrowed. "I will pilot the Marauder into orbit and throw the caf bean out the airlock."
"Then space your datapad, I will."
"I will crush it." Tech closed his fingers more tightly around the bean.
"Crush this flimsy datapad in the Force, I will." Yoda's voice darkened. "And laugh while I do it, I also will."
Tech frowned, but didn't speak.
And . . . stalemate.
Crosshair closed his fingers around one white box and pulled it carefully free of the pile. Wrecker watched eagerly – stop watching, Wrecker, you'll draw their attention! – as Hunter took a second box, and then a third.
Crosshair hid the box behind his back. Hunter followed his example as the two of them began making their way around, careful to act casual.
Then Tech let out a surprisingly gleeful hum – and ate the last caf bean.
General Yoda's gaze widened in shock and outrage, then widened even more as he stared down at Tech's datapad and realized he could not eat it.
Hunter and Crosshair sat down again, Hunter passing Wrecker the box he'd swiped for him. They silently traded for their favorites, casting quick looks up at the others in between.
The scene before them was . . . strange. General Yoda was standing, datapad clutched to his chest as he leaned so far forward that Hunter expected him to fall at any moment. Tech was sitting across from him, also leaning forward. Each glared at the other without moving, locked in a silent battle of wills over . . . something.
"Pretty sure they've forgotten why they're fighting," Crosshair pointed out, breaking open a chocolate and observing the chocolate fluff filling with satisfaction.
"Yeah." Hunter nibbled at the corner of a dark chocolate. "The caf bean's gone, but there are other bags behind them. I don't get why they're still in a staring contest."
Wrecker shrugged, cheerfully devouring an entire candy bar. "Something about the caf, I think. . . Tech's always gone a little crazy if he has it and General Yoda had a lot more than he did. Besides, who cares? At least they're not paying attention to the chocolate anymore!"
Then something very strange happened. Yoda and Tech turned their heads, looking at Wrecker with equally blank, unnerving expressions. Then they turned back to each other.
"Chocolate on caf beans, we have not tried," Yoda whispered hoarsely.
A slow, alarming smirk spread over Tech's face. "Try it, we should," he replied, stumbling to his feet.
Crosshair pulled his pistol and switched it to stun.
Hunter set the chocolate carefully aside and got up. "Wrecker . . .?"
"Uhhhh. Yeah." Wrecker sounded thoroughly unnerved. "Do we grab them . . .?"
"Grab us, do not!" yelped Yoda, who was sorting hastily through packages and bags. "Pandemonium, we wish to release!"
As far as Hunter was concerned, they'd already released it. He backed toward the doorway, activated his commlink, and tried to keep his voice low. "Commander Fox?"
A rustle on the other end of the line was followed by an exasperated sigh. "Who is this?"
"Commander Fox, this is Sergeant Hunter." Hunter tried to find words to fit the situation, failed, and said lamely, "We have a bit of a situation."
"Of course you do. Unfortunately for you, I've also got a bit of a – VOS PUT THAT BACK RIGHT NOW!"
An amused voice replied somewhere in the background. "Sheesh, all right, Foxy."
"And stop calling me that! Hunter – what is your situation?"
"Hunter!" snapped Crosshair. "Hurry up!"
Hunter cast a glance over his shoulder, almost let out a yelp of surprise, and spun back to his comm. "Commander! General Yoda is trying to melt chocolate with his lightsaber. He and Tech are trying to make chocolate-covered caf beans? I think?"
"Blasted Jedi . . ." Fox groaned. "How many did the – VOS LEAVE MY FLIMSIWORK ALONE! – general eat?"
"Almost a full bag, sir. I think Tech ate ten or twelve. We've got our blasters on stun, but –"
"Do not engage," Fox ordered quickly. "I'm calling General Windu."
"Oh, Master Yoda's gone crazy?" the person called Vos asked cheerfully. "Need any help from me?"
"Yes. Go lock yourself back in your cell until I can deal with you."
"No."
"NOW."
". . . No."
A rustle and a thump. "Thire, Rhys, take Vos back to his cell."
"Yes, sir. Come on, sir."
"Sure thing, sir," Vos snipped back. "Bye, Fox, catch ya later!"
Fox sighed so loudly that the comm buzzed with static. "Sergeant Hunter. ETA, one minute. Maintain a perimeter but do not engage. Keep the door open."
"Understood, sir," Hunter answered automatically, shooting another glance over his shoulder as he turned off the comm and palmed open the main door.
Yoda was standing motionless, the emerald blade of his lightsaber hovering half a centimeter from the surface of ten chocolate bars, while Tech lay flat on the floor perpendicular to the blade and observed the chocolate. Wrecker and Crosshair had their pistols on stun and were looking unnerved.
"One with the Force, I am," Yoda stated. "And one with me, the Force is . . ." He took a calming breath. "One with the Force, I am, and one with me, the Force is."
At this point, Hunter wasn't so sure.
General Yoda lowered his lightsaber with infinitesimal care, millimeter by millimeter, while Tech monitored his progress and Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair watched from a safe distance.
"Ah!" Tech said suddenly. "It is melting! Your hypothesis was correct!"
"The caf beans, you must get," Yoda said, eyes closed in concentration. "Hold this position forever, I cannot."
"Understood!" Tech grabbed the nearest bag and opened it, pouring the caf beans over the lightsaber – and the chocolate – with reckless abandon. Some of them were instantly powderized, but others began to sink into the chocolate.
At the same moment, footsteps sounded on the gangway outside, and Fox and General Windu entered the room.
"Master Yoda," said General Windu in his deep, imposing voice.
Hunter found himself straightening to attention instinctively. General Yoda, on the other hand, let out a startled squawk and jerked forward.
The lightsaber scored through the caf beans, the chocolate, the box, and part of the Marauder's floor before Yoda recovered from his surprise. "Scared the life out of me, you did!"
"Then I am glad the Force seems so willing to sustain you," Mace Windu said dryly.
Fox said nothing. He only eyed the whole room with an expression of silent, longsuffering disappointment. It would have brought any misbehaving shiny to contrition in a moment. . . but Tech and Yoda were not misbehaving shinies. Actually, at this point Tech was beginning to return to sanity. He was staring at the new arrivals with interest, but not the same strange, glazed look he'd had before.
Yoda, however, was brandishing a gimer stick. "Take it from us, you will not! A concoction, young Tech and I were to make!"
"Technically, it was a conglomeration," Tech pointed out.
"The technical name, I care for not!" Yoda paused. "Our conglomeration, ready it was, until destroy it, your loud entrance made me."
"Are you sure it was our loud entrance?" General Windu asked in a wry voice. "Or was it your guilty conscience over the meeting you so conveniently missed with Mas Amedda? Or perhaps the fact that you've ingested so much caf that you can't even stand straight? Or maybe, Master Yoda, it was a combination of all three."
"Hmph." Yoda thumped his gimer stick decisively. "Leave Mas Amedda to you for your own practice in self-control, I did."
"You did not." General Windu turned to leave the room. "You may have missed the scheduled meeting, but strangely enough, Mas Amedda was unavoidably delayed. He will be escorted into the greeting room in five minutes."
"True, this cannot be," Yoda mourned, ears drooping.
General Windu was already on the boarding ramp, but his voice floated back. "It would seem that the Force wills for you to meet with him, Master Yoda."
"A young upstart, he is," Yoda said grumpily, but followed all the same, leaning heavily on his gimer stick as he limped along. "Expect me to meet the Vice Chancellor, despite my age and infirmity, he does . . . Die, perhaps, I will, and feel bad then, he will."
Fox completely ignored him, staring at the wall above his head.
Yoda suddenly dropped the self-pitying attitude and straightened. "But the way life goes, that is, yes, Sergeant?"
". . . Yes, sir," Hunter agreed.
"And a good time we had, yes." Yoda chortled and moved to the head of the boarding ramp. "Leave you now, I will, but perhaps return some chocolate to me, you could."
"Yes, sir," said Hunter quickly. His head was feeling foggy enough as it was, and the others weren't looking themselves either.
"Meet you later, at some random point in the future, I will," Yoda said, and hobbled cheerfully off. The last thing the commandos heard from him was, "If survive the meeting and the inevitable hangover, I do."
"Sergeant," said Fox, with a professional nod. "I suggest I return the general's belongings to the Temple."
Hunter found himself nodding before Fox even finished speaking. "Need some help, sir?"
Fox scanned their faces quickly. "Thanks, but no. I'm thinking you boys had better clean this up before inspection."
"What inspection?" Wrecker asked suspiciously.
"You're on the Temple landing platforms." Fox stacked the remaining boxes on top of each other, gathered the caf bean bags in one hand, and stood. "Mandatory inspection of all ships docking overnight. It's a safety precaution."
"I take it we will be here overnight?" Hunter checked.
"Do you have anywhere else to be?" Fox asked.
"I don't think so, sir."
"Then you might as well stay here. Unless you'd rather stay in the CG barracks."
"No, thank you, sir." Hunter had a pretty good idea that one of his squad – probably Wrecker or Crosshair – would manage to get put under arrest for something. Last time it had been because the rookie guard thought Crosshair was an intruder prowling the halls of the barracks. That little mistake hadn't been straightened out until morning, when Stone finally arrived. Come to think of it, it probably would have been straightened out a lot sooner if Crosshair had just answered the guard's questions instead of remaining offended and aloof.
"Suit yourself." Fox left, calling over one shoulder, "And maybe stay in the ship?"
"We will, Commander!" Wrecker promised, closing the door behind him.
And once again, they had the Marauder to themselves.
Hunter ran a hand through his hair, sighed, wondered if water or an energy packet would work better to cut through the fog in his head, and finally looked at his youngest teammate. "Tech . . ."
"Sarge," Tech said delicately, in his 'I do not want to hear it' voice. "You have chocolate on your nose."
Crosshair snickered, coughed, and fell silent.
Hunter rubbed a hand across the bridge of his nose. "Well, you have chocolate on your goggles," he said at last, feeling triumphant.
Tech reached up, looking surprised.
Wrecker slumped down into one of the crash-seats and yawned. "Well, Crosshair has chocolate on his forehead."
It felt like a valid argument. Hunter didn't think it should feel like a valid argument, since it wasn't one and because it wasn't an argument at all, but he couldn't figure out why he thought that, so he left it alone. He couldn't really remember what they'd been talking about in the first place.
"Let's clean this up," Crosshair sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in pretended irritation. At the same time, he 'accidentally' rubbed the chocolate off his forehead.
"I saw that," Tech said, which was surprising, given that he had only succeeded in smearing more chocolate over the lenses of his goggles.
Hunter glanced at the blade of his knife, tilting it to catch his reflection so he could ensure no chocolate was left on his nose – how had Fox kept a straight face? – then moved to pick up the now-hardened slab that had been Tech's and Yoda's 'conglomeration'.
"I do not understand," said Tech.
"What?" Crosshair asked.
Tech went from studying his own armor, to glancing between Crosshair's and Hunter's. "How is it that of the four of us, Wrecker was the only one who did not get chocolate all over himself?"
