ROUGH PLACE
by ardavenport
- - - Part 3
"These rich families. . . . don't know what to do with their spawn. They shouldn't have them if they don't know to do with them," Inspector Yeevshoar downed his drink in one gulp, pouring it into the mouth of his long trunk. Obi-Wan could imagine the greenish fluid burning down the long mouth appendage. He slumped back into the rear seat of their booth, hunched into his robe and watched from under his hood while the police inspector, whose patroller droids had taken Tazulumae Ooremmus away, complained. Y'Takr Ayr, seated across from him agreed heartily. Qui-Gon Jinn, sitting between them, his back to the busy cantina, his robe hanging over the back of his chair, only nodded.
"Hard times have been, that her money I would have to take, "Ayr wailed, "and my Jedi friend, endanger. But know, I did not!" She grasped the pale sleeve of Qui-Gon's tunic.
"Of course. No harm." He smiled, reassuring her for the fifth or sixth time, and she slumped back, relieved.
"This isn't the first time I've had to arrest one of these brats." The Inspector plowed on with his original complaint, his lips held high at the end of his curving trunk over the table light, his eye stalks twitching in annoyance. "Though this one turned out a lot worse than most. Humph! Must be pretty sweet being able to do that kind of damage to someone who deserves it so much." His lips 'humphed' right in front of Qui-Gon's face for emphasis before the Inspector withdrew them.
"I take no pleasure in injuring someone so badly misguided." His Master looked annoyed, his bearded face cold, but the inspector didn't seem to notice.
"I would. I swear I'll be chasing down all these minor miscreants until I retire. Truants! We've got real crime to deal with instead of all these stupa bugs under our feet."
A serving droid with a tray of four more small cups interrupted the Inspector's rant. It's spindly arm deposited one each in front of their table's occupants. After Ooremmus was taken away, Madame Leetuph invited them to stay as long as they wished. The serving droid did not ask for payment for the libations. It was not d'yna this time, though it was just as antiseptic, sweet, burning and cooling to taste at the same time. But Obi-Wan didn't remember what it was called. It was green.
"Trouble they are, waiting to happen," Ayr grumbled, picking up the new drink. "Believe not, you would, the things their parents give them. What, paid I have been, get for them, I have."
"Really. . . . .?" Inspector Yeevshoar pursed his lips at her. "That's . . . . . interesting. Got a lot of contacts, don't you?"
Ayr narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the officer. "Paid well for my discretion, I am, Inspector."
"Oh. Like that Ooremmus youngling? I don't think that any payment is enough to do service for her," Yeevshoar commented, his mouth lowering to sniff at the fresh drink.
"The sector police certainly might be more appreciative of your services, my friend," Qui-Gon said as he reached his long arm across the table, picked up the new drink from in front of Obi-Wan and placed it with a light thump in front of Ayr.
What . . . . .?
Surprised, Obi-Wan stared forward. Qui-Gon had been passing his own rounds off to Ayr and Yeevshoar, but now his? There were four empty cups in front of the Inspector. Seven empty cups in front of Y'Takr Ayr, plus the one in her hand. Looking down, Obi-Wan saw only three in front of him.
"Mmmmmmmmm. Retirement benefits, you have? Young and pretty, I am not."
"Weeeeellll. Only after a little provisional employment." Yeevshoar held his lips to the side appraisingly, the lids of his blue eyes narrowing. "If your contacts are as good as you say."
"She has been of great service to me in the past." Qui-Gon smiled and patted Ayr's arm. "If my reference would be of any benefit."
"Hrrmmmph! You know it does, Jedi. Couldn't get a better reference if it came from the Chancellor's office." His skinny fingers played with the empty glasses as he considered Ayr's possibilities.
Annoyed, Obi-Wan silently sat through the boring discussion about Ayr's potential as a police informant. They talked about who Ayr knew, covert meeting places, spy droids, probation, payments and retirements. Inspector Yeevshoar looked dismayed when Qui-Gon told him that Jedi did not retire. Ayr spoke with increasing interest about this new prospect.
When the next serving droid arrived, Qui-Gon picked up the drinks before the machine could set them out. Two for Ayr, two for the inspector. None for himself, or his Padawan.
Obi-Wan felt flushed and sweaty under his robe, but kept it on, feeling himself quite capable of enduring the heat and closeness of the crowded cantina. But his Master, who had discarded his own robe, didn't notice. If he could have reached far enough across under the table this time, he would have tapped Qui-Gon's boot for attention.
Finally, Ayr and the Inspector decided that they would continue with their business in a more secure location. They got up, Ayr a little more unsteadily. Qui-Gon stood with them. Ayr gave him a big hug. Then smiling, Qui-Gon lowered his head so Ayr could rub her middle protuberance against it, strands of his long hair hanging down. Shocked by the familiarity, Obi-Wan wondered what details Qui-Gon had not mentioned about Ayr's services in the past.
They left. Still standing, Qui-Gon picked up his robe, shook it out and shrugged into one big sleeve. "I believe our business here is done."
While Qui-Gon finished putting his robe on, Obi-Wan started to slide out from the bench seat. But before he could stand, his Master reached over and pulled him to his feet.
"Unnh," he grunted into the older Jedi's side, his legs having gone completely limp. Qui-Gon pulled him up, his feet under him this time, but the room refused to steady. With his Master supporting his shoulders they took a few steps before Obi-Wan realized his bladder needed urgent attention.
"Uh, I need to use the refresher."
"Are you feeling unwell, Padawan?"
The very suggestion seemed to echo inside Obi-Wan's stomach and he quelled the thought. "No, I just need to relieve myself."
"Of course."
They wove between the crowded tables in the dimly lit room, Obi-Wan concentrating hard on just walking and which way was up, while Qui-Gon remained rock steady.
They finally reached a rear archway that led to a wide, dark red corridor where a bulky lifter droid was levering upright a recumbent patron. Qui-Gon guided him around a left turn where the corridor brightened with each step until a last right turn led to a gleaming bright archway into a spacious refresher with pale blue, tiled walls, floors and attendant droids. Rumbling and noisy body functions echoed in the open space.
"Do you need my help?" his Master asked as he stopped before a narrow stall door in a very long row. Obi-Wan shook his head.
Qui-Gon suddenly grasped the collar of his robe and pulled it down and off of him in one smooth motion and then gave him a little push. The stiff white curtain parted into suddenly flexible ribbons that let him fall forward and reformed as soon as he was through. He hastily grasped the sturdy hand rails on either side of the narrow space.
Before him was a very generic white receptacle bowl with fluted edge. Planting his feet shoulder width under him, Obi-Wan fumbled with his pants and made his deposit. The fluted bowl gurgled and slurped it away. After dipping his hands into the sanitizers on the walls on either side of the bowl, Obi-Wan turned around and pushed his way out of the flexible curtain. . .
. . . . and almost collided with Qui-Gon, his apprentice's robe hanging over one arm. After regaining his footing, Obi-Wan guiltily faced his Master's appraisal.
Qui-Gon leaned forward and pulled up his pants and fastened them again. And then guided him toward a row of large clear basins along another wall. A slender blue-tiled attendant droid blinked it's white quad-eye sensors and asked if they needed its assistance. Qui-Gon politely declined.
The entire wall behind the basins was mirrored, lit from above and below. Next to his Master, Obi-Wan thought he looked too short, his cheeks flushed, his eyes bloodshot. He sniffed. Qui-Gon reached for a spray attachment by the basin - -
- - and suddenly grasped Obi-Wan's collar and thrust him forward. Cold, cold water stung his head and neck, running down his back. Arms flailing, he grasped the edges of basin, but Qui-Gon held him firmly in place. He shut his eyes and shook his head as Qui-Gon lowered the sprayer and pointed the water upward. Cold water ran down under his collar, dripping on his chest. He shivered.
The water suddenly stopped and Qui-Gon yanked him back. Obi-Wan groped for the drying cloth a droid held out for him.
"Better?"
Obi-Wan nodded. Now he looked pale and wet in the mirror. The droid took the cloth back.
"You did not mind yourself when we were sitting with Ayr and the Inspector, my young Padawan." His Master stood at his side, his reflected expression benign.
"No, Master," he guiltily acknowledged his lapse.
When they first sat down with Ayr, he had focused his thoughts inward, as he had been trained. He had minded the subtle heat and flow of the Force, as if his partially accelerated metabolism actually burned the d'yna away from inside him. But when they sat down the second time, after Ooremmus had been taken away . . . . he just hadn't thought about it.
"Well," Qui-Gon nodded, apparently satisfied with his contrition, "now would be a good time to . . . . catch up." Arm on Obi-Wan's shoulder, he led him to another archway into a low-ceilinged room with gray padded benches, blue padded walls and a cushioned floor. A couple of patrons lay stretched out wheezing and whistling, one on a bench, one on the floor.
Qui-Gon sat him down on a long empty area of bunch and plopped his robe next to him. He took his own robe off, piled that on top and sat down. He pulled his long legs up, sitting cross-legged. Obi-Wan did the same and looked around. The low ceiling was padded. The humming air ventilators only slightly muffled the noises of bodily functions from the main facility room. He had never meditated on the Force in a public refresher before.
"Obi-Wan."
He nodded, breathed in deeply, relaxed his shoulders and sat up straight. The Force, like another splash of cold water, made him feel like he was just waking up. How could he have forgotten?
"Be mindful, my young Padawan."
Obi-Wan could hear the smile in his Master's tone.
"This place can be a little rough."
[b]**##**##**##** END **##**##**##**[/b]
This story was first posted on tf.n: 20-March-2010
Disclaimer: All characters and situations belong to George and Lucasfilm; I'm just playing in their sandbox.