Chapter 15: Bicycle Race

"Oh, Brassy, it is you!" Thane heard through the fog of semi-consciousness. And then, "What's wrong with him?"

He opened his eyes and blinked several times to clear his mind. Glancing around, Thane was surprised to find himself lying on his back in the middle of the floor, which from his vantage point was a lot grosser than it first appeared. He also seemed to be stuck. The two women just regarded him without offering any kind of help.

"Ugh," he grumbled as he attempted a second and third time to get up. There was something sticky holding him in place… But Thane didn't want to even begin guessing what it might be. Probably alcohol. Maybe old sick.

Thane frowned and was successful on his fourth attempt. Putting the tip of a single finger on the floor, not wanting to touch it any more than he already had, Thane stood. A patch of cloth, however, remained behind; the warm, unprocessed air of the bar brushed his bare shoulder.

"What happened?" is what he meant to say. "Mwah harmped," is what actually came out. Still, Brazilla managed to understand.

"You fainted."

Thane looked around, his mind slowly waking up. There was a drink sitting on the table next to him in a glass that was easily as questionable as the floor. The liquid itself might have been called amber-coloured in nature if one ignored the whitish, cloudy patches. Brazilla and her mother were staring at him as he stared at it, trying to determine whether it was safe to drink.

"Passed out," he corrected the moment his mind cleared enough for his tongue to work. Brazilla frowned. "I don't faint. It must have been manly hunger…or something."

"Actually," she said, her accent somehow more posh in the presence of her mother, "it was your BAR. Drink up." She pointed at the glass.

Thane followed the line of her finger and pressed his lips together. There was rarely an alcoholic beverage he encountered that he had no desire to drink and this was one of them. It looked as if something had up and died before spending a couple of years decomposing in whatever barrel it had come out of. It smelled like it, too.

"Hell, no," he said.

"Do you want to die?"

He looked her. "I wouldn't die, just fall into a hypoglycemic coma. Carbs are important to my diet." He shrugged.

Brazilla's mother looked between the two of them. "What's talking about, Brassy?"

Thane cut in. "It's a genetic disorder. Don't make fun of me. I can't help it. You wouldn't laugh at a crippled kid in a wheelchair, would you?" Picking up the glass, Thane studied its contents. "You're a damn cheap Jedi, 'Zilla. This ain't gonna do much," he said before knocking it back. It burned down his throat like something more awful than offal and he had to hide his grimace to not appear weak in front of the ladies, considering who he was. Reputation above all else could have been his motto. Still, he looked at Brazilla with a frown. "Was that embalming fluid?"

"Almost. Something local, the barman said it should do the job." She looked at her mother and pointed at Thane. "That's Thane Sunrider, Mother."

Thane's smile was easy. "Alcohol Consumer of Lore, Conqueror of Virginity, and Jedi Knight."

"Those are quite some titles," Brazilla's mother said. She looked Thane up and down.

"I've led quite a life." He returned the favor.

Brazilla, on the other hand, looked like her head was about to explode. "And this is my mother, Jocasta. She's married."

"That's a real lovely name you have there, Jocasta." He let it roll around on his tongue. Jocasta seemed to enjoy it. "Do you have any sons?" Thane asked, not helping Brazilla's anger. He sat down on the nearest of the desecrated couches and spread his arms, a light smile on his lips.

"No, why?"

"Oh, no reason." He winked at Brazilla. "But might I say that I can see where Brazilla gets her good looks." Pointing at the barman, Thane gestured with his glass, wanting more. The aftertaste was starting to grow on him. "Have you ever thought about becoming a mother-daughter modeling powerhouse duo? I think you two would sell a whole lot of magazines together. I know a guy who knows a guy who knows a photographer who knows an editor."

"I don't appreciate pick up lines," Jocasta said. Thane just shrugged.

"Figured I'd give it a try." Lifting his glass to the two of them, Thane finished the second drink in one fell go before standing, the dial on his BAR back in the green. "I can also see where she gets her tongue."

With a sly smile to Jocasta, Thane grabbed Brazilla around the waist and pulled her into a kiss, to which she submitted. When he released her, she stumbled slightly to one side, her hand on her forehead. The strength of the alcohol had transferred to her on saliva alone and the look she gave him as he stepped back was enough to worry her mother. But before Jocasta could kick Thane out of Brazilla's life and possibly off the face of the planet, he spoke up.

"I should go sign up for a race while I'm lucid." He pointed at the swoop registration desk. "Then maybe we can continue this. I'll need a few more rounds in me if we expect to win this thing." Winking at Brazilla, he turned abruptly away and strode off across the bar, Jocasta's warning about 'dangerous men like that' following in his wake.

He only smiled, though, and approached the desk with something of a swagger.

"I hear you've got passes to get out of the city for anyone who wins one of these races," Thane said, leaning on the high counter. The coordinator looked at him, his head tails curling around his neck.

"Whoever told you that was mistaken," he replied. Thane lifted his brow.

"No, I don't think he was."

The man looked at him again without saying a word.

"See, I really need to get out the city. The fate of the entire galaxy depends on it, actually." Thane shrugged. "Now, if you don't have one in the pot for everyone, you could just put one in for little old me and not give it to anyone else. It could be our little secret."

"That's not terribly honest." He typed something into the computer in front of him.

"I'm not a terribly honest guy, what can I say?" Thane flashed one of his megawatt smiles. "But I'm not lying about the whole saving the galaxy, thing, I'll tell you what. The Jedi Council is even backing me on this one. You wouldn't want to get in the way of the Jedi Council, now would you?"

"I don't take kindly to threats, sir," the man said.

"No threats," Thane said, smiling wider. "Just a bit of friendly haggling. So you got a pass or what?"

"I do." The man looked suddenly confused, as if he wasn't sure why he had told the truth. Thane simply smiled. Jedi mind tricks were handy.

"And you wouldn't mind just giving it to me, now would you?" The tips of two fingers twitched.

The man reached into his pocket and handed Thane an oyster card. The big man grinned his widest grin yet and slipped it into his pocket. "Thanks a million, guy."

"Would you still like to sign up for a race?" the coordinator asked, smiling back.

"Why the heck not." Thane slapped the table. "I'm a sucker for a good bicycle race, what can I say? The name's Sunrider."

As the man signed him up, Thane glanced over his shoulder, suddenly curious about where Garth was in all this. He hadn't seen the man since, well, since he had passed out. Granted, he had been a little focused on Brazilla and her mother after waking up and couldn't have cared less about the other man, but now he was starting to get a little worried. Garth never wandered off like this when they were planetside. He usually stuck to the group like some kind of a sucker fish.

But then Thane remembered that he didn't worry about things because he had nothing to worry about. Things always turned out right for him in the end. So, he turned back to the race coordinator, who gave him instructions on where to go to get ready and what gear was available to rent. Thane, using his fantastic skills, convinced the man to waive the fee.

"In that case," he was telling Thane, "just go ahead and get down to the locker room." He handed Thane a key and pointed. Thane thanked the man and turned, only to find Brazilla, Jocasta, and the prodigal bard standing next to him.

"You know," Brazilla said to him, "you really shouldn't use your abilities to get out of paying for things."

"Why not?"

She gave him a look.

"But, Brassy," he said with a smile, "isn't money evil? It turns people into grubbing little pigs who want nothing more than to get fatter and fatter and we, as Jedi, are meant to root out evil, money-related and otherwise. By using money, I would just be giving into the evil machine and we'd have done nothing but fall to the Dark Side of the Force, which is where money originates from. See, darling," he said, slinging an arm over her shoulders, "I've done a good deed by not paying the man. I ain't half bad, if I do say so myself."

She pushed him back off of her. "You need to compensate him for his services."

"I think a smile and a wink are compensation enough. All he did was sign me up for a race."

"And rent you equipment."

Thane dug the oyster pass out of his pocket. "And hand over this baby, baby." He handed it to her and took a drink away from a busty barmaid with blonde pigtails and a horned helmet. "Keep it safe for me while I risk life and limb." When he finished the stolen drink, he handed the empty glass to Garth.

"But you don't need to. We've got what we need."

"I know, but I feel the need for speed and, honey, I haven't been getting any from you." He kissed her again.

Jocasta's jaw dropped. Garth found an interesting poster on the wall. Brazilla turned red, an unfortunate side affect of alcohol consumption. And embarrassment.

"I'll see you later," he whispered in her ear. "And then maybe you can show me how you would handle a stick shift."

She just turned a brighter shade of fuchsia.

--

Thane couldn't remember the last time he had flown a bike. Literally. His last experience had been lost in the darkness of a blackout, but from what people told him, he was magnificent. And Thane had no reason to not believe them. He was good at everything he tried.

Alcohol and adrenaline were coursing through his body, making him shake as much as the bike between his knees. He felt at home here on a race track and Thane briefly considered giving up his life of former crime to become a professional swoop racer. Think of all the fame he would gain. It was exhilarating. It was almost better than sex.

"Nah," Thane said to himself as he put on his borrowed helmet. Flipping up the tinted visor, he looked into the crowd and smiled his smile at Brazilla and her mother. Garth was sitting next to them, guitar in hand, ready to strike up a song the moment Thane crashed and burned into a pile of slag. The big Jedi very briefly appreciated the thought of a song in his honor, so long as it was about how magnificent he was in life.

He revved the engine and smiled wider when Brazilla jumped a little. He liked her liking him, even if she tried to deny it. Though still brash and a little bit caustic, Thane didn't mind how the woman had changed from the first time they met. She seemed a little more like a real person now that she had warmed to him.

Revving the engine once more, Thane flipped his visor back into place with a nod of his head and tilted forward over the swoop, ready for the green light. The riders around him were cursing and insulting each other, kicking at those next to them and cracking various joints in a show of manliness. Thane didn't join in. He was quite confident in his masculinity and had no lack of bravado to boot.

Red. Orange. Yellow. Zoom…

Thane released the break holding him in place and shot ahead of the rest of the field. They were all too busy one-upping each other to notice the race had started. A grin crossed his lips as he slid around one of the obstacles and shot over the top of an acceleration pad, switching gears when the engine started to complain.

There was no doubt in Thane's mind that he preferred these little bikes to the larger, clumsier craft that had grown in popularity around the galaxy. Sure, he thought as he kicked at one of the racers who had caught him up, the big ones boosted power, but these little guys were the height of racing engineering. At least in Thane's mind and he was glad this track seemed to think that size didn't matter, as well.

Turning a hairpin, his foot down for stability, Thane shot ahead of the other man and over the top of one, two, three more acceleration pads. He banked to the left to avoid a crashed swoop and fed the engine a little more power as it started to come down from the temporary speed boost. The other racer, still on his tail, seemed to see an opportunity to get past Thane, but was mistaken. The moment Thane saw the other bike in his peripheral, he jerked to the right and slammed into him, his elbow digging into the exposed area of his opponent's neck. The man gagged out a cry as his bike swerved out of control and into the nearest wall, bursting into flame. Thane didn't even think about it.

Coming back into the stadium, Thane stood and lifted one hand to wave at cheering the crowd. He pulled the front stabilizers up in a trick, inciting even louder applause out of the gathered spectators, and twisted into a complicated spiral before dashing off into the track tunnels that twisted and turned just under the surface of Taboo.

The rest of the race was fairly uneventful considering how far the rest of the field was behind Thane. It was their own fault, really, considering they were more focused on beating the crap out of each other than beating the big man in front of them. He was so far ahead, in fact, that he was able to perform tricks at each pass of the stadium much to the delight of everyone, even Brazilla.

And when he came in after the final lap, Thane shattered the record so well that no one could find the pieces of it. The announcer predicted in between fits of glee that no one would ever be able to beat it, which made Thane's chest swell in delight. Finally, he was able to check something off his bucket list. Next, perhaps, he would work on becoming the greatest holonet sensation of all time.

As they were walking away from the winner's circle, even Jocasta congratulated him.

"You really were quite magnificent out there," she said. Thane looked at her and smiled. Brazilla, on the other hand, frowned.

"I heard someone died," she said. "Did you have anything to do with that?"

Thane shook his head. "Not really, no."

"That's not an answer."

"No, it is an answer, just not the one you're looking for." He glanced away. "I mean, he died after he and I got into a little tiff over who was in the lead, but it was an accident, really. He got in the way of my elbow."

Brazilla regarded him, obviously not convinced. After a moment, though, she ceded. "I suppose in high speed situations like that it is harder to calculate what an action might do to someone else. You should still be mindful of everything you do, though. As you saw, even the most innocent of intentions can end up disastrous."

"Got it," Thane said, not getting it. He was too proud of himself for winning the race to file anything away for later recollection. Brazilla frowned even deeper but didn't say a word about it. Now that she liked him, she really wanted to believe that he wouldn't go back to being the monster he used to be. She remembered him from her adolescence, admiring him even then as a star, swooning over him along with the rest of the galaxy: male, female, human and non- alike. He was Thane Sunrider, famous Jedi, loved by all. She had even loved him while he slowly fell into the madness of a new religion. Would she, she wondered, marry this man she had once been a fan of?

Garth cut into her musings, though, her question going unanswered for the time being.

"You know, we should probably get gettin' on with our mission," he said from the back of the little group, absently strumming his guitar was they walked. "Other people are out there looking for it, too, and if they find it first, well, the entire galaxy will suffer a terrible fate. A fate worse than death. A fate we can easily prevent with a little forethought and less dilly-dawdling."

Thane turned to look at him. "How's about heading out after dinner first, Pops? I think we deserve to celebrate with the credits I raked in today, considering the magnitude of my victory. My treat this time. No pretending to forget my wallet in the Pigeon, even, scout's honor." He put an arm around Brazilla and pulled out his iPhone to consult its new app. "Let's go find some place classy."

Garth looked at Brazilla for support, but she was in Thane's court this time. "We do need to eat, Commander. Besides, it's starting to get dark and going out into the dunes at night is like a death sentence. We'll start bright and early in the morning. I promise."

She smiled up at Thane and, to a lesser degree, her mother, who was still tagging along. Thane saw the expression and began to wonder exactly what Jocasta was still doing with them. Brazilla had mentioned a number of times back on Dannon that her relationship with her mother was strained at best and that the two strove to not spend much time around each other. Something was up.

But that could wait. Right now he was going to enjoy his winnings and Brazilla's healthy new attitude.

--

A/N: Here is the slew of excuses you probably don't want to hear: 1. Real Life; 2. a serious three-part KOTOR fic that's taking up all my free time and creative juices (part one is a little over half done and will be posted once it's complete); 3. a humor dry spell in mind and in Real Life (Heroes, the end of SG: Atlantis, and Food Network does not inspire much wit); 4. laziness (I know you were waiting for that one); and, 5. the loss of my chapter cushion in the previous chapter meaning this WIP has come up to bite me in the you know where. Not my best work, but it's something.

Title borrowed from the Queen song of the same name.