She was there once more. She smelled the dirt, the putrid stench of human waste and filth as she stood rigidly in the center of the primitive village. She felt the approaching rumble of thunder, felt the growl shake her core as she tasted the coming rain in the damp air. She was parched, and she felt every stinging cut on her back and legs and breasts where the thin, snakelike whips had cut into her. Her eyes blazed with anger as she once more twisted her small wrists in the cruelly tight ropes, the blood from the deep chafes oozing faster onto her fingers and dripping onto the dirt. There was the sound of whoops and hollers, people shrieking in a strange language as they danced around her. The huge bonfire, set fifty feet or more in front of her, sent a crackling shower of sparks whirling in the air. It was so far away, but she could still feel the blazing heat. The masks were spinning around her once again. She saw their masks, wooden things with exaggerated tears of blood painted on their hard surfaces. Huge, gaping, jeering mouths let loose a string of obscenities in a foreign language at her, and she twisted the ropes once more.
Then she felt him. His presence was so unlike any other presence she had ever felt, a warm, encompassing heat that was building in her chest. She felt the Force around her hum in approval as she felt his consciousness encircle hers, felt the raw anger and rage thudding dully in his chest. She knew he was coming for her. Knew he was about to rescue her. And she tried to warn him, tried to send him a message through the Force that it wasn't safe, he should call for backup … but the drugs that were still rampaging through her system was stopping her, blanketing her in a muffling power that she couldn't get out of. She felt a drop of rain patter onto her forehead, and she turned her face upwards.
He was there, suddenly and quickly, his stocky frame quickly threading through the crowds. In his fairness, he waited until the natives were determined to be hostile before unclipping his lightsaber and slicing through two of the gibbering natives with one quick thrust. He was everywhere, his feet hardly touching the ground as he twirled his way over to her, defending both himself and his beloved Padawan. She felt hope surge in her chest once more, and then he was in front of her. The sharp, spicy smell of basil flooded her nostrils. She felt the lightsaber slicing through the bonds, and she fell to her knees before she felt his supporting arm.
She saw the arrow being notched languidly to the bow, saw the masked tribal leader grinning fiendishly as he drew back the string in a massive arc. She heard the sweet, whistling thump, felt his muscles tense, heard his guttural groan as the arrow made contact. Once more a scream tore from her throat, and once more she felt the Force shake with the sheer power of her rage and intensity. Again she felt the heavens split open, pouring rain onto the dying Master and his stricken Padawan, dampening the gray hair and the black, Ana's hair shielding his face like a wet curtain. She felt his calloused fingers skim her chin as he groped blindly for her, and then she felt the life go out of him.
"Ana!"
His voice shook her back to reality, and she realized her face was wet; not with rain, but with tears. She was sobbing blindly once more, and she clung fiercely to Qui-Gon's tunic. Her breath was coming in jagged gasps, and she tore open her eyes so she could drown in his smoky blue orbs. It worked, and she saw the deep concern for her in them. Her breathing slowed, and her tears slowed to a trickle. But she didn't let go of him, merely buried her face in his tunic. Qui-Gon ran his large, calloused hand through her short curls, whispering words of endearment in every language he knew. He was reminded how broken she was, and he continued stroking her hair as he fought back his own demons which were raring in his chest. "Ana, it's all right," he soothed. "You're fine. You're safe, with me."
It was those words, more than anything, that brought her back to reality. She pushed Qui-Gon away, rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, and sat up. Her dark green eyes were dull and listless, and he knew she had been dreaming about Wathearu. She swung her feet out of the small cot where she had been sleeping and stood, stretching. She felt him pull her firmly against his broad chest, both his strong arms wrapping around her waist. His beard was a tickle against her neck. In a split second, she went from achingly horrified to painfully aroused. She felt him purr a question into her ear, inquire if she was all right, but she could do nothing but inhale the musky, deep scent of him, as if she were devouring him in one breath. One more tear trailed down her rosy cheek, and she reached up to scuff it away hastily before Qui-Gon saw, but he caught her wrist gently. Slowly, with infinite grace and care, he wiped the tear from her cheek. Call it clichéd. Call it whatever you will. It was that simple gesture that made Ana's head swim. She knew now what it was whenever she looked at him, the desire to be held in his arms, the longing to have him brush against her hand once more. The feeling had a name, and it was both terrifying and exhilarating, a word that made her want to laugh and sing and cry all at once.
Love.
Ana pushed away from Qui-Gon, her chest heaving. Her mind clicked into place, the gears and bolts whirring as she realized what she had just thought. That was ridiculous, she told herself. She wasn't in love with Qui-Gon. No, she couldn't be. She was merely attracted to him. That was all. And there was nothing wrong with being attracted to someone, she told herself. She wouldn't turn to the Dark Side just because she was attracted to him. So she turned to him and swallowed hard, forced a calm look on her face, and met his eye. "I'm fine. Really. Just a bad dream. Have we landed?"
He took in her tight, clipped sentences, her decidedly neutral expression, her firmness in speech that told him clearly that she did not want to discuss what had just happened. Because he felt it to, that fleeting shock in the Force, felt her surprise at something that he had done. But if she wanted to ignore it, he could as well. "Yes, we have. That was why I came to wake you." he said, and took her hand. She didn't flinch or draw away from him, but instead did something very odd. Instead of just clasping his hand, she threaded her fingers through his and squeezed once, tightly. It was as though she were reassuring herself that he was still here, still alive, still breathing.
"Let's go," she said, breaking the connection and fleeing the room as though the Siths themselves were at her heels.
She was very disappointed.
Iridonia was as flat and hard as a plate, with absolutely no loose sand atop its scorched desert wasteland. As far as the eye could see, there was nothing but hard yellow dirt and tiny scrub that were dried and wizened from the heat. Four suns circled the planet, each circular orange ball dipping and rising at different heights, keeping the sky in a near-constant state of sunrise or sunset. As it was, the sky was a pale blue shaded with a tinge of brassy red, marking the descent of the second sun. Ana had questioned Clah'Diam about Iridonia before she left = the young Twi'Lek had been there on a mission two years ago - and the blue-skinned woman had given her a big smile. "Very green," she had said. "You'll love it." But all that Ana could see was more and more nothing, her eyes straining to see even the faintest smudge of greenery in the distance. The captain, a blonde man with a cigarette perpetually dangling from the corner of his mouth, swung himself out of the plane. "Like Iridonia?" he asked, his voice layered with amusement. "It's a great vacation spot."
"I can see why," Ana said sarcastically. "Who wouldn't want to come here and do nothing but bake all day in the sun with no water in sight?" She heard Qui=Gon rumble a chuckle behind her, felt his presence dangerously close to her back.
"Have patience, Padawan," he said. "Here is our transport." Ahead of him, several yards away, four speeders were neatly parked, keys winking brightly in the sunlight. Senator Bulgrasse heaved his bulk down the stairs and stretched. Ana winced. She could hear the joints cracking even from this distance. The drawling Senator slouched over to the speeders and slapped one fondly.
"Them Zabraks. Always makin' sure we travel in style." he boomed a thunderous laugh, and positioned himself on one of the speeders. "Y'all comin'?" he bellowed, waving to Qui-Gon and Ana. The two of them selected speeders, and Qui-Gon noticed a self-satisfied smile curling Ana's lips. Apparently she had some expertise with a speeder. The blonde captain chose the fourth speeder, and Qui-Gon felt an unknown twinge in his chest as the appraising look Ana gave him as he gunned the throttle.
Ana sped off, flicking the throttle wide and keeping her wrist loose. The speeder jerked as it shot forward, leaving behind the rest of them in a cloud of dust. Bulgrasse roared with laughter and gunned his speeder, trying to catch up to her, and the blonde captain was soon in hot pursuit. Qui-Gon followed at a much more dignified pace, chuckling to himself as he saw Ana pulling fancy figure eights. He sniffed at the captain's crazy loops. He checked their backs, and told himself he would be the rearguard.
Someone, after all, had to be the mature one.
They passed over the hot, dry, bumpy plains of Iridonia, zipping around a few crumpled cacti and even less uprooted, dead tumbleweeds. Qui-Gon saw the look of utter determination on Ana's face as she zigzagged around Bulgrasse and the captain, clearly showing off her more-than-adept skills at racing. For once, he didn't lecture her. She had precious little time to be a Padawan, and she should get all of her childish nerves out before they reached the capitol. He caught her eye and she flashed him a grin - a real grin, one that beckoned of promise and excitement and adventure. It was beautifully captivating on her face, and for a moment he almost lost control of his speeder. Then she was off again, buzzing around the Senator like a fly.
It swelled up suddenly in front of them without warning. A gigantic glass dome, stretching to the heavens and splitting the parched desert, flashing in the midday sunlight. Ana stopped completely, her jaw agape as she saw the huge semi-circle of glass, the largest structure she had seen before, even on Coruscant. Inside, she could see the huge skyscrapers and bustling city, the streets striping the ground, and, far more importantly, she could see the rushing streams, the thick meadows, and the plunging waterfalls. A gigantic butterscotch-colored palace in the middle yawned expansively in front of them, and Qui-Gon laughed aloud at the look on Ana's face. She had been expecting a primitive colony of huts, and she was greeted instead with a beautiful industrial city with plenty of wildlife. Two massive gates, gigantic behemoths that towered to the sky, stretched in front of them. Ana steeled herself to greet a stiff=faced guard, and there was a slim man who was wearing clean, natty clothes. His uniform was pristinely starched and he wore no helmet, but Qui-Gon noticed the tri-barrel water-cooled blaster hanging at his hip. The guard smiled tightly at them, showing plenty of teeth but no heart. "Welcome to Iridonia, travelers! Do you have identification?" he asked.
"Yes, we do," Qui-Gon said, and he took out a small leather passport. The holo-picture winked in the sun, and Ana was temporarily blinded. "I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, and this is my Padawan, La'Ana Shaddem. We are here on a Galactic convoy with Senator Bulgrasse and his captain, Marcus Lu'teh." The guard nodded once, and once again flashed them a false smile.
"Excellent! We've been waiting for you all week. Step right this way. His Highness is waiting for you, although I highly suggest you visit our famous saunas. They are quite well known in this part of the galaxy." He said, a disparaging tone creeping into his voice, as if to suggest they were separated not only by galaxies. Ana instantly didn't like him, and judging by the way Bulgrasse spit his wad of tobacco dangerously close to the guard's feet, the Senator didn't either.
They followed a winding stone path that skirted around the industrial downtown of Iridonia's Capital, which was simplistically called Capitol Square, and into a lush garden. Qui-Gon could see that Ana was quite taken with the garden, and her fingers teased the heady blossoms once or twice as she inhaled the dainty scent. Before they emerged from the gardens, they were covered from head to foot in a thick perfume. The footpath curved delicately around a glassy pool that had one corner of it pummeled by a churning white waterfall that plunged straight down into the slippery surface. A tree, fabulously covered with tiny purple blossoms, acted as a screen for a private garden area, and Captain Marcus has to push aside the trailing branches so they could enter. It was almost a curtain of blossoms that showered them with tiny purple petals that rested lightly on Ana's shoulders and spiky black hair. As they entered the small clearing, she saw exactly why Bu-Taan was king.
He was lounging on a pile of plush pillows, all of them fringed and tasseled, covered with feathers and buttons. He was bare chested, showing off swirling black and red tattoos on his chest and arms and a lithe, lightly muscled torso. His skin was a rich chocolate black, and when he greeted them with a smile, he revealed two rows of gleaming white teeth that contrasted vividly with the darkness of his skin. A pair of white pants with a purple sash at the waist and ankles was all he wore, and a braided crown of grass and blue ribbons hung regally on his shaved head. Two earrings dangled in his ears, and he wore three rings on each hand. It wasn't surprising to Qui-Gon, who often encountered kings of such riches, but it fairly took Ana's breath away. To his left was an ice tiger, every bit of raw muscle and blue stripes, the enormous shaggy head rippling once as it growled the arrival of newcomers. A fine golden chain was clipped to a jeweled collar on the beast's neck, and Ana highly doubted that the beautiful chain would have any significance if the monster actually wanted to escape. As it was, the tiger was too well trained and too well fed to be of any nuisance, for he merely yawned lazily and let out a deep, growling purr. Qui=Gon bowed deeply, and Ana followed his lead.
"Ah, the Jedi," Bu-Taan drawled. "Sit, sit, please." he waved languidly to two servants, similarly clothed and colored, who rushed forward and placed four thick cushions behind the visitors. Bu-Taan had a peculiar accent, both lazy and sleek, yet at the same time brusque and clipped. "We have been waiting for a long time, Jedi." He said, but there was no accusation in his voice.
"You have our humble apologies, Your Highness," Qui-Gon said quietly. He motioned to Ana to sit down, and she did so, quietly but awkwardly. She felt silly sitting on a pillow. Bu-Taan's dark eyes slid from Qui-Gon, who had gracefully taken a seat, to Ana, who was trying to look diplomatic and solemn while eyeing the tiger and counting the odds if it would eat her, to Bulgrasse, who was still standing, and chewing a fresh lump of tobacco. Marcus lounged on his pillow and threaded his fingers through the furry carpet of green grass as if he did this every day, and he winked at Ana, who scowled at him. Finally, Bu-Taan roused himself and locked eyes with Qui-Gon.
"I see you are a fair man, Jedi," Bu-Taan said. "And I have heard of this … Senator Bulgrasse." He added with a slight sneer. From the look on his face and the disdain in his voice, it sounded as though everything he had heard about him was true, and not all of it was good. "But who is this young couple who sit before me, exchanging glances? Your daughter, Jedi?"
"Allow me to correct you, Your Highness," Qui-Gon said gently, releasing his anger at being called old, albeit indirectly, into the Force, "but this young woman is my Padawan Learner, La'Ana Shaddem. This young man is our captain, Marcus Lu'teh."
"Ah, I see," Bu-Taan said, lazily stroking his ice tiger. "La'Ana," he purred, the silky tones dipping and gliding around her name and making it do pirouettes in his mouth. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl. Rise, La'Ana, and approach me." She did so hesitantly, and knelt in front of him. He studied her, taking in the full cheeks, pouting lips, dark forest green eyes fringed with thick, dark lashes that made her appear elegant and disdainful, the short Padawan braid and her spike of black hair that was perpetually hanging in her eyes. "Tell me, La'Ana, how old are you?" he asked.
"Twenty two, Majesty, but I shall turn twenty three in two months." she answered honestly. His fingers, ringed and sparkling in the sunlight, tipped her chin back as he appraised her. Finally, he graced her with a broad smile.
"You are young yet, Padawan La'Ana. And you still have much to learn." He dismissed her with a wave of his hand and she hurried back to Qui-Gon, kneeling on her pillow once more. "And now, Senator Bulgrasse," he said, once more sneering at the name. "I refuse to conduct business when the heat is so unbearable. We shall talk, at greater length, this evening. I command that you eat dinner with me, and I hope you bring your appetites." He clapped his hands twice, and they all rose and left. Ana spared a glance behind her, and childishly stuck out her tongue at the chained ice tiger. The tiger roared and stood up.
Ana hurried after Qui-Gon.
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