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Whispers of Menace
A Star Wars Episode I: The Phantom Menace Alternate Universe
Chapter Four:
Otoh Gunga and Boss Nass
Our new guide broke into an awkward lope, and I dropped back a little to observe for a few moments. It appeared that both Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had run more than a bit already, even by Jedi standards. In fact, by the time we reached the shore of another lake—or maybe a different section of the one I'd been in earlier—the elder of the two was actually a bit short of breath.
"Much farther?" his Padawan asked. Binks looked at him, blinking.
"Weesa goen' unda wadder now, okie-day?" We all nodded, reaching for rebreathers. "My warnin' you," he continued. "Gungans no liken' outlaunders. Don't expect a werm welcome." Obi-Wan grimaced.
"Don't worry, this hasn't been our day for warm welcomes." The creature nodded before turning and jumping into the water. The height he was able to reach was impressive for one who was Force-blind, though the yipping noise and the twisting somersault were just… unnecessary. We waded in right behind him.
The shore turned out to be little more than a small shelf of rock, ending in a sharp drop to a surprisingly distant bottom. As I'd begun to suspect, this was less a lake and more an extension of the world's seas, connected to them by deep underwater caves. The most amazing part, I thought, was the view offered by the very clear water; directly ahead was a collection of far-off bubbles, clustered together and emitting a soft golden glow.
It wasn't a short swim, by any means, but eventually we reached a tongue-like platform extending from one of the larger structures. Our guide touched down and walked forward, simply pushing through the barrier within the confines of a large arch. As I passed through, it felt rather elastic, though it obviously did an excellent job of keeping the water outside and the air inside. Obi-Wan even pushed at it experimentally, making it quiver.
Several Gungans of varying ages had been traversing the walkways around us, but they froze upon seeing us. First one, then many, turned and ran, which I found just a bit odd. The one member of the species we'd already met was rather gregarious.
Heavy steps and the jingle of metal approached, and I turned to see a Gungan mounted on an avioid creature—kaadu, my mind supplied. He looked somehow older than our guide, his skin a more subdued brown and tan, with several moustache-like tendrils of flesh hanging down on either side of his mouth, and tattered-looking ears. The three long, thin, striped feathers rising from the back of the saddle waved a bit.
"Heyoo-dalee, Cap'n Tarpals. Meesa back!" Binks said brightly.
"No ahgain, Jar Jar," the other one said, almost groaning. Other kaadu riders in similar garb approached, surrounding us. "Yousa goen' ta da Bosses. Yousa in big doodoo dis time." With that, we found ourselves being herded along, presumably to see these mysterious 'Bosses.'
One of the guards decided that Binks needed extra incentive to move; the spear-like implement he extended buzzed before delivering a charge to Jar Jar's rear. He yelped, rubbing the spot.
"How wude."
"Yousa cannot bees hair." Why was I not surprised to find that the Bosses were a group of grossly overweight, sumptuously-dressed Gungans? Prone to denial, too, as their ringleader, Boss Nass, was demonstrating. "Dis arrr-my of mackineeks up dere 'tis new weeson!"
"That droid army is about to attack the Naboo," Qui-Gon argued. "We must warn them."
"Weesa no liken' da Naboo!" Nass countered. "Un dey no liken' uss-uns. Dey t'ink dey brrrrains so big." Speciesist prejudices, just wonderful. This was not helpful.
"After those droids take control of the surface," I said firmly, "they will come here and take control of you." This delay was certainly going to make our mission more difficult.
"No, mesa no t'ink so." There was a note of smug amusement in Boss Nass' voice. "Weesa scant talkie wit da Naboo, and no nutten talkie wit outlaunders. Dose mackineeks no comen' hair! Dey not knowen' of uss-uns." Oh joy, they were isolationists, too.
"You and the Naboo form a symbiont circle," Obi-Wan pressed. "What happens to one of you will affect the other. You must understand this."
"Weesa wish no nutten in yousa t'ings," the Gungan insisted. "And weesa no caren' 'bout da Naboo." I could have cheerfully punched him, right then and there.
"Then speed us on our way." I almost missed the slight movement of the Jedi Master's fingers.
"Weesa gonna speed yous away," Nass echoed agreeably. Another subtle mind-trick procured something called a 'bongo' for our use and a general direction: through the planet's core.
"Deysa setten' yous up," Jar Jar informed us in a low voice as we turned to leave. He looked supremely sorry for himself, with his wrists in binders and a guard on either side. "Goen' t'roo da planet core is bad bomben'."
"Yes, we'd figured that out," I murmured back. Boss Nass' malicious chuckle when he gave us the direction had been clue enough.
"Ah… any he'p hair wud be nice," he added apologetically. Kenobi turned a reproachful gaze on his Master.
"We'll need a navigator," the older human said before facing the Bosses again. "What is to become of Jar Jar Binks?"
"Binks is broken' da no-cum-backie law. Heesen ta be a' pyoo-nished," Nass replied with a leer. He must have seen the 'how?' on one of our faces. "Pounded… unto deat'." A quiet chuckle rippled around the room. Any idiot should have been able to guess what would come next.
"I have saved Jar Jar Binks' life. He owes me what you call a 'life debt.'" The glare that several Bosses directed at the orange klutz was startling.
"Binks. Yousa haven' a liveplay wit disen hisen?" The only reply to Nass' question was a rapid nod. Qui-Gon's fingers flickered again.
"Your gods demand that his life belongs to me now." Well, that was how most life-debts worked.
"Hisen live, 'tis yo's, outlaunder." Nass certainly didn't seem reluctant to get rid of Jar Jar by whatever means possible. "Begone wit him!" We turned again, and I grabbed the Gungan's arm to make sure he kept up with us.
"Count meesa outta dis!" His protest echoed through the next room. "Bettah dead hair dan deader in da core!" Then he paused as his own words penetrated his thick skull. "Ye guds, whatta mesa sayen'?!" Now he was only too glad to lead us to our bongo…
Whatever that was.