A/N: I think I might have to thank The Boosh for giving me a kick in the pants to write again. After being introduced to them and then very quickly watching a very large amount of their work (from their live DVD to all of their episodes including the elusive pilot, to a whole bunch of random stand up on youtube…obsess much?) I found that very special mood it takes for me to write this thing. I've also been reading a lot of Terry Pratchett. And now that I am all graduated (with a college degree and everything!) I have a little more free time because once I go home for the day, I've nothing much to do besides exercise and eat dinner. And weekends freedom. I don't know if that means I'll write faster (or just socialize more), but it might. Ramble…

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Chapter Seven: I Love Fuzzy Little Puppies…But I Couldn't Eat a Whole One!

Thane must have fallen asleep in the ten minutes it took Garth to enter Dannon's atmosphere, because the next thing he knew he was flying off the bench he was sitting on; gravity kicked in with a jerk. The real kind, not this faulty artificial stuff (Thane would sometimes wake up to find himself floating). He opened his eyes to a chorus of laughter from the Wookie, the kid, and the droid.

"Shut up," he said, rubbing the growing welt on his forehead. All they did was laugh harder and Thane wondered at the humanity of it all. His brain could be swelling as they laughed and he could die without a moment's noticed. He was the glue that held this misfit band of travelers together, so if he died, what point would there be in going on? For the others, that is. Thane would have some difficulty moving on with life once his concussion caused an aneurysm and he died.

But then Thane remembered that none of them were, in fact, human, so he quit the lounge for the cockpit. He still wondered, somewhere in the back of his swollen brain, if his fall could or would cause an aneurysm. If it did, well, Thane probably wouldn't know.

When Thane entered the cockpit, the viewport was filled with the idyllic blue sky and green grass of Dannon. Though he couldn't make out details at this height, Thane knew there were packs of probiotics wandering around down there in the grasslands, hunting down unwary travelers, praying on lactose deer, and swimming in trugoy bogs. The air outside smelled of fruit and dairy due to the fields of invasive blackberry plants and the herds of cows that spotted the landscape.

Millenia ago, Dannon had been conquered and re-settled by large blonde warriors from the land of the ice and snow, from the midnight sun where the hot springs blow in the Northern Reaches of the galaxy (which lay just beyond the Rhineland Sector in the Outer Limits; the hammer of the gods). They brought to Dannon their particular sense of dress (mainly fur and horns), their culture of trade ("I'll give you a strapping blonde baby if you give me your village and all your valuables"), and the strange probiotic hound whose spittle was filled with nutrients. The fur and horn look had been outlawed some years ago by young and idealistic animal rights activists, but the probiotics had flourished in the trugoy and the trading tradition now persisted in the form of other-worldly merchants who only conquered (unless you considered their prices a form of wallet-rape.).

Thane knew he had been to Dannon before—especially now that he was looking at it—but he couldn't for the life of him figure when or why. It certainly didn't seem like the kind of place he would willingly come to. There were too many rolling hills and groves of trees for the likes of him. Still, there was that niggling little voice in the back of his mind that told him he had grown up here. It was the same voice that told him what the Jedi tattoo on his arm meant, so he promptly ignored it.

Well, that and the floor suddenly fell out from under him leaving Thane to grapple for the back of Garth's seat in order to not end up in a heap on the floor.

Damn inertia.

The Velour Pigeon rocked in a cloud of coolant and engine exhaust as Garth came to a jerking halt on the landing pad. The tall duracrete walls blocked out the rolling hills and groves of trees and Thane could almost pretend he was in the middle of some greasy city instead of on a grassy planet. Still, there was all that fresh air out there that sparkled in the sunlight rather than the processed air inside the ship or the polluted stuff on the worlds Thane liked to occupy, so suffocation would be a key thing to avoid. Thane made a mental note of it.

Once the boat had stopped rocking and vomiting gaseous bile, Thane smacked Garth up one side the head and down the other.

"Nice one."

"We're all in one piece, aren't we?"

CRASH!!

"Well, almost," Thane said. "But I was talking about bringing me to a sparsely populated planet. If the fresh air doesn't get me, the lack of attention will. Or maybe the sunlight. I'm kind of a mole."

Brazilla turned to look at him. "You really are unbelievable. I don't think I have ever met someone who complains quite so much as you." She then frowned and looked at Garth. "What was that crashing noise?"

"I think it was the port side stabilizer," Garth responded. Everyone seemed far too nonchalant, all things considered.

"We need that," said Thane, stating the obvious.

Garth gave him a parental Look. "I'll put someone on it."

"I don't think that'll help much. What's he gonna do? Stand there and twiddle his thumbs? Have a little rest when he really should be reattaching it to the ship?"

"I meant that I'll get someone to fix it. If I can find anyone to fix it. Dannon might be fresh out of mechanics and all of the tools it would take to fix the stabilizer. There's no way we in this lonely band of travelers would be able to do it with the lack of tools we have. And even if we did manage to fix it, exiting the atmosphere would be just too much for the majestic Pigeon to handle and we would start falling apart, piece by piece, broken heart by—"

Thane noticed the guitar beneath the dash for the first time as Garth reached for it, no doubt to pick a heartrending tune to accompany his lyric.

"They had better fix it quick, then," he said, cutting Garth off. The other man's hand snatched back from the bridge of the instrument, disappointment painting his features like a lonely sunset that spilled out over a vast and empty plain, hailing the dark, cold night that would follow—two lovers destined never to meet…

Everyone in the cockpit frowned, especially Garth for being outdone.

"I have a feeling we'll need to get out of here quickly," Thane said, getting back to the topic on hand. He seemed to be looking at a spot several inches beyond the plane of the viewport, but when he blinked, it was gone. Garth figured it was either his secret Jedi training getting the best of him or a growing concussion. The weal on the devastatingly handsome, would-be smuggler's forehead told more than Thane would ever admit to.

"You're not afraid of a few probiotics, are you?"

"I barbeque probiotics," Thane said with a snort. "And eat their fuzzy little puppies. Those hounds are nothing. Less than nothing. No. I just have a bad feeling about this. And I don't get bad feelings. It's not in my genetic make-up."

"I suppose you're made of sunshine, too?" Garth said, standing.

"I am. And sunshine people don't get bad feelings." Thane gave them a single, resolute nod. It showed that he was unyielding, unwavering, and even unbendable on the subject. Thane Sunrider, Alcohol Consumer of Lore and Conqueror of Virginity never got bad feelings. It was a definite and stanch fact, one that he was firm and stubborn about it.

Putting the thesaurus back into J4G-GL and patting the droid on the dome, Thane ran a hand through his perfectly disheveled hair and smiled a dazzling smile at Brazilla. "I suppose we had better get you back to your conclave, darlin'. I can't imagine depriving the Jedi of you much longer."

"Mm," was her noncommittal answer. Garth looked at her. Thane looked at the two of them.

"What's going on? What aren't you telling me?" He narrowed his eyes and rather than just looking sleepy, like most people do who try it, he looked mean. Really mean. Brazilla's complexion paled slightly.

"I don't know the specifics," she lied. "But the Jedi Council contacted us yesterday to say they wanted to speak with you."

"Me?"

"Yes. They…" she hesitated. "They believe you have the potential to channel the Force like no one they have ever seen or trained in their life time. Most of us have a mental stopper, of sorts, that limits our power, but we have sensed none of that in you."

Thane stared at her for a moment, surprised at the somber tone that suddenly overtook them. A strange memory flickered through the back of his concussed brain that enveloped his entire mind in a dark shadow. His blue eyes even darkened for a moment.

But it disappeared quickly and Thane returned to being the smuggler he thought he was.

He then began to laugh. Though, a bellowing guffaw might be a more appropriate way to describe it. Moisture (not tears) welled in his eyes and he bent over to slap his knee and hold his stomach. Garth and Brazilla looked at each other. Again.

"I take it this means he doesn't believe you," Garth said.

"I guess not."

"And what was that whole thing with his eyes?" Garth waved at his own face. "Is it physically possible for someone's eyes to change like that?"

"I didn't think it was, but his just did. I know a lot of authors like to use it more as a metaphor than an actual physical change in the character. You know, as if he's remembering some dark past, or a terrible thing that he's done to the galaxy."

Garth frowned. "Thane was a good Jedi, right?"

"Yes," Brazilla said, which was a fraction of the truth. "He was a very good Jedi. Everybody either wanted to be him or be near him."

"Seems a little cliché."

"But it's also the truth." Brazilla didn't find it necessary to tell him about the fact that the man who was currently doubled over in laughter was the big, bad, notorious super villain Darth Relevant who had nearly brought the galaxy to its proverbial knees. Only she, the Council, and a few others knew who Knight Sunrider had become. If the general populace ever found out that their Knight in shining armor was the same person who had nearly killed them all, mass outrage would ensue. Not against the Jedi. Oh no. The anger would be directed against each other because, obviously, it was somehow their fault they were being punished by their hero.

Hell hath no fury like a Jedi scorned.

It was a good three minutes more until Thane stopped laughing. He wiped at the moisture (not tears) that had collected in his eyes and looked at Brazilla.

"And they say Jedi don't have a sense of humor."

"Who says that?"

"Everyone." Thane shrugged. "But you've got to admit, the conclaves are kind of quiet. And the Council, well, they might as well Botox their faces into a scowl, 'cause they've got no other expression to express."

A slight smile crossed her lips. "How do you know that?"

"I don't know…" Thane frowned. "But I'm not a Jedi."

--

Ten minutes later…

"The Force flows strong through your bones, Thane Sunrider."

The big man's shoulders slumped. "Dammit."

"You're disappointed?" Master Nixon grumbled.

"I just didn't want Brazilla to be right, is all."

The four Jedi Masters—ranging from a toadstool to some grumpy old men—looked at Brazilla. They didn't turn so much as slowly rotate at the exact same, ominous speed. Even Thane would admit that it was really creepy, if not a little freaky.

"Is that true, Brazilla? You told him," the last was more of a statement than a question from Adoy, the toadstool.

"Only that he could touch the Force, Masters. Nothing more."

They sighed collectively.

"We are very disappointed, Knight Sham," Adoy said.

"We trained you better than that," said Czar. He was the largest of the four Masters (in height and circumference; portly would be an appropriate description) and had a particular love for fur hats, which went well with his grey streaked beard and moustache and generally jolly nature. He, like Thane, was a fan of drinking and claimed that it only enhanced his awareness of the living Force, rather than inhibit it. His poison of choice was vodka, where Thane preferred rum.

Brazilla hung her head in shame as the Masters shook theirs in unison.

"You should know by now that it is the duty of the conclave Masters to reveal life altering secrets and conclusions in our own time, even if it comes too late," Master Nixon said. The fourth, unnamed Master simply nodded. "We are not crooks, but we are the conduits of a higher power. The Force works in mysterious ways."

Thane, who had been remarkably silent, rolled his eyes. "Look, don't come down hard on her," he said, giving Brazilla a wink that suggested many truly terrible (wonderful? pleasurable?) things. "I demanded that she tell me, and I tend to get what I want when I'm in that sort of a mood. I'm charismatic like that."

Thane flashed them a brilliant smile that would be impossible to say no to, had Thane been asking for anything. Like total galactic domination and obedience.

The Masters exchanged a knowing glance that suggested many terrible things as well, though these were on the extreme opposite end of the scale as those that Thane was suggesting; castration being one.

The Wookie, the kid, the country-western wannabe, and the droid (figuratively, of course) blinked in the unison. They knew the Masters knew something was up. Brazilla was obviously in on it, otherwise she probably wouldn't be making such a show of herself, and Thane seemed blissfully unaware, though Garth couldn't help but wonder if the rusted gears in the back of Thane's mind had just been given some oil for thought. The bad guy-turned-smuggler had the tendency to show his brilliance brilliantly masked behind naiveté and dumb luck, but everything simply turned out a little too perfect through all of his drunken lullabies to be sheer happenstance. Yes, Garth decided, Thane Sunrider was hiding something big. If only he could figure out where in the name of the Force he had heard the other man's name before.

Thane, of course, was actually blissfully unaware of everything he had done only weeks prior. He was perhaps the only person in the galaxy who knew very little about the terrible things Darth Relevant had done to the galaxy (which included the constant loop of ABBA in his prisons) as well as the only person in the room who was unsurprised by the Masers decision to (re)train him as a Jedi. Brazilla was vehemently opposed even though she knew this was coming and the rest of the Pigeon's crew groaned at the thought of Thane Sunrider, Alcohol Consumer of Lore and Conqueror of Virginity, gaining access to all that power.

All those poor women, thought one-half of the room.

This had better not be another mistake, thought the other half, who of course blamed themselves for their hero's fall.