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Author	Topic: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - Mar. 1
bobilll Registered: Aug '02	Date Posted: 8/16/05 4:53pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/16
	“I must be honest, Master,” she said, opening her eyes. Although her voice was void of emotion, she could feel it quivering somewhere deep. “I am not certain I can complete this task with the Senator present. I want to believe I can, but I . . . I fear my emotions may interfere.” Oooh, more Ami/Sabe angst! Love it... I really did want to see those two's reaction, though, when Sabe kils Anakin while he's taking his vows... I love Sabe's derision at Ami, though. It's getting clear that Sabe doesn't approve of this looser person Padme's become. And, of course, I love watching Sabe yell at Panaka and Kenobi... he should dock her pay. -----signature----- You'll have to buy him a sweater.
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Amidolee Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 8/16/05 5:01pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/16 - Date Edited: 8/16/05 5:51pm (1 edits total) Edited By: Amidolee
	LOL, bobilll, as much as that would be to do . . . Don't worry, toxic darts will be flying in this story. -----signature----- Mar. 1 - One Prick to Bleed: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/20423905/p1 "You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness." Dean to Sam in Roadkill.
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AngelQueen Registered: Mar '01	Date Posted: 8/16/05 5:38pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/16
	“Is there anything else, Jedi Kenobi?” she all but snapped. Oh, yes, there was a flash of blue triumph. giggles slightly Ah, battle of the wills! Obi vs. Sabé! laughs Great post, Amidolee! So, Yoda still wants her to kill him... Will she end up following him throughout the Clone Wars, but keeps hesitating for different reasons? And hesitates until the twins are conceived? Again, wonderful job! AQ -----signature----- "Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!" "If you're not with me, then you're my enemy." "Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I will do what I must." "You will try." Obi-Wan and Anakin
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Amidolee Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 8/16/05 5:53pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/16
	No, no, AngelQueen, that would be a REALLY long story. Let's say that Sabe has the follow-through but things are not going to go according to plan? -----signature----- Mar. 1 - One Prick to Bleed: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/20423905/p1 "You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness." Dean to Sam in Roadkill.
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Senator_Lorena Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 8/18/05 2:55pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/16
	Obi-Wan suspects something. I've always wondered if he did. Can't wait to see what course of action Sabe takes! -----signature----- "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars. ~ Less Brown "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." ~ John 3:17 NIV
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MasterSareBabe Registered: Dec '04	Date Posted: 8/18/05 4:00pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/16
	Oh, and waiting. I like that line. I am officially a Sabe fan! Hahaha! This story's terrific. I love going behind the scenes during the movies. You describe Sabe's character so well. Then serve your posterior out of here. AHAHAHAHAHA!
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Amidolee Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 8/20/05 12:19am Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/16
	drags self onto forum Oh. My. God. I hate computers. More specifically: I hate Windows Media Maker. I also strongly dislike my obsession with making music videos of my fandoms (HP and SW, also Spiderman, X-Men, and Seabiscuit). But it's fun when it goes well. And I say unpleasant things when it does not. Anyway, it's 2:09 a.m. (again and again, but hey, it's not 4 this time!), I just finished one of my best vids ever, and I think I went officially over to the dark side for it. Oh well. It happens. I'm not very coherent right now, and I definitely plan on sleeping in tomorrow and ignoring my wait-list of vids. Things have been busy the past couple of days, including a major plot bunny explosion for this story that would really take this to dark and interesting places (I think my characters will hate me, but Sidious seems to think it's cool). So, between life and vidding, I've been turning over this bunny in my head. I will write tomorrow and hopefully have a post up by Sunday before I visit my dad for a few days. I'll bring the computer so I can get something done in my (ha ha) free time. Originally, I'd hoped to have this fic completed before I left for England (18 days!), but that is HIGHLY improbable, unless I get the momentum of earlier days. But never fear, I'll continue to write my (ha ha) spare time over there. Okay, this is babble. I should go to bed. Oh, and: MasterSareBabe - glomp Yay! Senator Lorena - Oh, he so suspects something. Coming Soon: The not-so-secret secret wedding. Will the wedding cake be in danger?! -----signature----- Mar. 1 - One Prick to Bleed: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/20423905/p1 "You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness." Dean to Sam in Roadkill.
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Amidolee Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 8/20/05 5:50pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/20
	Chapter Seven The sun was beginning to dip below the mountaintops by the time a medium-sized gondola bumped up against the dock. Coran, Telmé, and two house servants stood waiting on the dock, an air of expectancy and excitement glittering around them. On the steps leading to the house, the robed master of ceremonies and another villager watched. No one noticed the Lok’hai monk crouched in the foliage above the dock; no one had seen her for some hours now and more intriguing things were unfolding in full sight, anyway. Upon spotting the gondola’s approach, Sabé had moved closer to the dock, slipping deeper into the shadow game. Now her keen senses could intrude on the mutterings of the Balmays and observe minute details without strain. Amber light glinted off the silvery casing of a battered protocol droid preening under a fresh polish. Beside it, squat but active, a familiar astromech twittered and whistled as its dome head swiveled around. They sat together behind two humans, looking like two bickering children in this family gondola. Sabé had braced herself for this moment, had meditated the hours away, had focused her mind and drained herself of emotion. Anakin Skywalker stood out of the gondola, his tall, lean frame shrouded in a dark, almost black robe and leather vest. His right hand winked metallically, flashing briefly to the barely stifled gasps and whispers from the watching entourage. Something like pain twisted across his tan face and then the skeletal hand disappeared inside his sleeve. He turned back to the gondola, his left hand extended to the small woman awaiting him. A fist went through Sabé’s gut. Grasping and wrenching it in a tight vice. Amidala rose out of the gondola, radiant under sunset’s glow, a brilliant smile lighting her face as she gazed adoringly up at Skywalker. It filled Sabé with ice. Last she’d seen of Amidala had been her retreating back. The last time Sabé had seen her face, her eyes were cold, hard, and unforgiving. The last smile heartless and calculating. Sabé’s fingers twitched on the little dart gun. “My personal happiness has nothing to do with this.” The former Queen, beautiful as ever, stood on the dock, her hand lost in Skywalker’s as she turned to give her reception a gracious smile. They were her court. She wore a two-piece wrap set of sky blue, the jewels of her hair ribbons sparkling subtly, dancing with the shine in her eyes. She kept turning to Skywalker, each look giddy and a little wild. “It is a wonder to see you again, m’lady,” Coran said warmly, bowing to her. “And you, Jedi Skywalker,” he added, though Sabé detected a hint of reserve in the old man’s voice. The smile did not quite reach his eyes, a wariness touched his weathered features. But he plowed on. “We’ve got everything ready, just like you requested.” “Thank you, Coran,” Amidala said, her voice floating softly but clearly over the dock. Telmé stepped forward, a clean apron covering her skirts. “May I escort you to the house? Coran and the others will see to your luggage. Evvé is waiting to help you.” Skywalker and Amidala began to sweep down the dock as Coran and the others moved toward the gondola’s back cargo compartment. The nervous cry of the protocol droid brought everyone to an abrupt halt. “Oh, Master Anakin, sir!” “Oh—Threepio.” Skywalker whirled around, his cloak adding drama to the simple movement. “Sorry, Threepio,” he said quietly. He dropped Amidala’s hand and extended his fingers. The protocol droid let out a little “ahh!” as it rose smoothly out of the passenger carriage to settle onto the dock. R2-D2 twittered amusedly and fired his launchers, shooting straight up and then arcing gracefully to thump down beside his taller companion. “Show-off,” Threepio scolded. R2-D2’s response was disturbingly close to a giggle. He rolled forward and Threepio tottered after him toward Skywalker. “Really, Master Anakin,” it said, “I appreciate your assistance, but I wish you would not do such things. It agitates my circuits—” “I’ll warn you next time,” said Skywalker. He reached for Amidala’s hand again and together they rejoined Telmé, who looked rather bemused by the droids’ antics. The lake master and his assistants returned to the gondola. Sabé watched in surprise as a very small man’s head popped out from the back cargo compartment. Coran let out a surprised hello as the little man hopped up onto the dock. “Oh!” Amidala gasped. It was her turn to whirl around. She had the decency to look embarrassed. “I can’t believe I—well, I can—I have other things on my mind.” She flashed Skywalker a knowing grin that made Sabé feel ill. Telmé looked as if she shared Sabé’s sentiment. “That is Lanin,” Amidala explained. “He’s here for Anakin’s . . . injury.” “Oh, yes. I suppose something got confused in the transmission or Coran forgot.” Telmé glanced at the fifth member of the Senator’s party, tossed Skywalker a slightly reproachful look, and then beckoned her guests up the steps to the house. Behind them Coran and the others were unloading the gondola. Four travel cases and a rucksack in all. Lanin picked up the smallest travel case in one hand, giving the rest a cursory sniff. Sabé suspected the largest case, about the size of a man, contained a beautiful wedding gown fitting for a former Queen. The other two were smaller, more manageable, and probably held the rest of Amidala’s hide-out wardrobe. “At least the Jedi packs light,” one of Coran’s helpers muttered as he snatched up the small rucksack. “Why exactly did she bring an astromech?” the other murmured. “Or that sorry-looking protocol droid?” “Everyone needs a guest list. And I think the protocol droid belongs to the Jedi.” “Since when do Jedi own droids?” “Since when do Jedi marry?” “Quiet now,” Coran ordered. “Let’s get these up to the house. We’re on a sunset schedule.” He turned to Lanin. “Hmm, you’re not the first unexpected guest today. Come along, we’ll find a place for you.” The entourage, loaded with cases, proceeded up to the house. Once again quiet settled over the empty dock, the lapping water gently filling the gap of departed voices. Hidden, Sabé crouched, frozen. She’d had every opportunity to strike. Skywalker had been wide open to her, oblivious to everything around him but Amidala. But she had not taken a shot. Slowly, she looked down, her hand clutching the dart gun unfolding. “I fear my emotions may interfere.” Sabé stared down at the small, lethal weapon in her palm. The shock of seeing Amidala still surrounded her, clung to her like the night’s cool fog. Almost numb, but not quite. It would burn through, eventually. Maybe too soon. Like morning. I have to burn past it. Focus. Think. Analyze. Anakin Skywalker was dead. She retained no emotional attachment to him. Yes, he had once been the heroic little boy who’d help save Naboo. He had once been a headstrong, precocious Jedi Padawan she’d observed on missions. Once. The man-boy that had stepped out of the gondola did not fit. Was out of balance. He wore the cut and braid of a Jedi Padawan, but he was breaking the Code. His oath. A darkness seemed to embody his robes, mocking his Jedi appearance, reminding Sabé of the murders on Tatooine. He was Jedi no more. Anakin Skywalker would be dead. Yes, a slight unease existed in her over this. Murder never settled well, Sabé knew, but she would take the death of one over the death of many. Anakin Skywalker was dead. Sabé studied the dart gun. She’d loaded two cartridges. They rested in their slots, death in waiting. Xrak toxin. No known antidote. No immune species. A half-ounce would kill a grown human in seconds. It was outlawed in the Republic and generally avoided in the Outer Rim. Anyone apprehended with it was immediately arrested, more often than not sentenced to death. But, like many things outlawed, Xrak came with disguises. Its . . . supporters were gifted in cloaking it, and Sabé knew more than suspected that affluent Republic officials were instrumental in funding the toxin on Coruscant. “No longer taking them alive, I see.” Sabé closed her fingers over the gun and looked up at the house. Harried Naboo bustled in and out; she could see movement through the large, open windows. Skywalker and Lanin were out on the stone balcony over the ledge, the tiny man about the same squat height as R2-D2. She decided to move closer. Slinking through the growing shadows, her presence tight against her like skin. A distant pounding sounded in her ears, the edge of her vision a little fuzzy as her center focus sharpened. Skywalker had removed his cloak and rolled up his right sleeve to reveal his skeletal lower arm. Sabé could not help but wince. Yoda had told her the extent of Skywalker’s battle wound, but she still felt a little queasy looking at it. Tiny electrical lights pulsed up and down the wiring nerves inside the structure. Lanin stood on a stone bench against the low, vine-covered wall of the balcony, an instrument case open at his feet. He wore small spectacles over his broad nose as he examined the artificial limb, muttering incoherently to himself. Skywalker was impatient. He kept looking back into the house, ignoring Lanin’s protests. “This really isn’t the time for this,” he gritted when Lanin scolded him. “Do you want your arm to work or not?” Lanin, for being so tiny next to the tall boy-man, could level a fine enough glare. “If you will just concentrate, it will only take a few minutes. Then you can pace and worry until she comes out.” Skywalker glared down at Lanin for a minute. When Lanin merely blinked, he took a deep breath and gave the little man a tight smile. “Very well.” Sabé watched, rather fascinated, as Lanin took Skywalker through a series of exercises in flex and control. Naboo had excellent rehabilitation facilities that attracted outer world patients with the need but not the means. She wondered which one Lanin came from; he had to be one reason for the delay in coming to Balmay. Focus, Sabé. She had the perfect opportunity. Again. Skywalker was distracted, out in the open. She could be down to the dock and across the lake before the panic settled enough for someone to think of the Lok’hai wandering the forest. Then she could abandon the gondola and take to the mountains, appear in her home village as Sabé, then return to Thasyin and leave Naboo. “You’re coming along well, Anakin,” said Lanin approvingly. “You’ll be ready for your casing.” “Thank you, doctor.” Lanin smiled a little and turned to pack his instrument case. Now. Sabé slid the dart gun across her left hand, steadying it as she focused and sighted. The Force, so tight around her, drew even closer, tighter . . . She adjusted, just a hairline . . . Her thumb brushed the safety, unlocking . . . The command traveled from her mind, down her arm, into her hand, to her index finger— “Anakin.” Sabé jerked back. Skywalker whirled around, struck. Amidala stood under the sculpted arch, the deepening pink and gold rays of sunset setting off her glowing skin and resplendent, flowing gown. A happy blush touched her cheeks, her large, dark eyes shone, a wide, uncontrollable smile graced her beautiful face. Under her lace veil, her hair cascaded and flowed like the long train behind her. “You look—” Skywalker swallowed, lost of her words, frozen before her. Amidala ducked her head a little and fidgeted with the top, delicate layer of her gown. “I always wanted to wear my mother’s gown,” she said softly. A shadow flitted over Skywalker. Amidala looked up again, the blushing smile gone and replaced by something intense and heated. She stepped forward, saying, “But it doesn’t matter. It’s only a gown. This is so much more.” A wide, boyish smile flashed across Skywalker’s face. “You look beautiful in anything, Padmé,” he said hoarsely, his hands taking hers and running up to her elbows, drawing her closer. Sabé felt sick. Dizzy. Amidala smiled and Skywalker’s boyish look turned disturbingly intense. “You are everything to me, Padmé. Everything.” His grip on her elbows tightened and Amidala winced. “Oh—no—” Anakin dropped his right arm. “I’m so sorry—I didn’t mean to—I don’t have complete control yet—” “It’s all right, Anakin,” said Amidala soothingly. But Skywalker was clearly unsettled by this and started to step back. Amidala reached up to touch his cheek, drawing him back to her. “Ani—it’s all right.” She smiled a little. “I have a different gown than I imagined, and you have a different arm. It’s a little romantic.” He gave her a disbelieving look, shook his head, and then finally smiled ruefully. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I love you, Padmé.” Sabé had long studied the subtlety in Amidala’s face to catch the flicker of uncertainty there just as Skywalker lowered his head to kiss her. The master of ceremonies cleared his throat. “That comes afterwards.” Amidala and Skywalker pulled apart, looking a little sheepish. Suddenly the balcony was full of people. Evvé, a slender girl not more than seventeen, scooped up Amidala’s long train as the master of ceremonies and the young couple moved out to the end of the balcony. Telmé directed the two droids to bear witness and then pulled Evvé away, ushering everyone back inside to watch through the columns. Sabé couldn’t move, couldn’t think as the marriage creed and oath drifted past her. All she could see was the giddy, happy glow on her former friend’s face as she’d looked at Anakin. The awful cold of their parting echoed somewhere around Sabé, but she could not drum up any feelings of revenge and only felt sicker at the thought. She would not kill in revenge. Nor could she watch that giddy happiness die before her very eyes. Trembling, Sabé stowed the gun dart away as the sun dropped further behind the mountains and the shadows grew long and deep. She looked away as Amidala and Skywalker kissed, sealing their vows, completing their oaths. A cool, aloof corner of her mind scoffed. How delusional could Amidala be? Skywalker did not honor oaths. What made her think one sealed with a kiss would be any different? Sabé gritted her teeth. Clearly an understanding of oaths still eluded Amidala. Look at you, Sabé thought, shaking her head at herself. She wronged you, you cannot forgive, and yet you still want to spare her. Oaths run deep. Unable to take the scene any longer, Sabé retreated back to the tiny village. She rounded it through the steep growth surrounding the niche, entering the village opposite the estate house. Another plan of attack came to mind, but was quickly dismissed. She could ask to be of service and tamper with one of the meals. But what if Skywalker sensed the danger? What if her shadow game failed and he suspected her? What if Amidala accidentally consumed the poison? Or recognized her? And what if she was successful? Amidala would have everyone in the village apprehended and investigated to find the source of the poisoning. Sabé could not involve anyone. No one to blame. No harm to come to anyone but Anakin. Keep it closed. No link to anyone. Sabé entered Ulsa’s quarters and hurried upstairs to her small let. Below her the dining Balmays conversed over the wedding, their muffled voices a distant hum as she silently paced in front of the bench-bed. The single window’s shutters were open to dusk, adding little light to the room, but she did not bother with the illumination bank. She paused before the window, looking out into the purpling world. Many wishes passed through her, none that could be granted if wishes ever were. ~~~ A soft trill startled Sabé. She blinked. It was full night. All was quiet. How long had she stood here at the window? Shaking her head, Sabé activated the soft illumination bank and went to her satchel for the comlink. She waited until its message light turned red and then pocketed it. She knew who it was from, who it could only be from. Regret pulled at the corners of her mouth. Then she went to the window and swung gracefully, silently down the vines to the ground. -----signature----- Mar. 1 - One Prick to Bleed: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/20423905/p1 "You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness." Dean to Sam in Roadkill.
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Yui-chan Registered: Jun '01	Date Posted: 8/21/05 7:04am Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/20
	Oh, the droids! How I love them. Gyaaah, I wanted Sabé to kill him. SO MUCH. Yay for updates! May there be more fic writers like you! -----signature----- 4 years of S/O. <3 It must be love. AT THE END OF ALL THINGS - http://boards.theforce.net/message.asp?topic=20031707 Post Episode 3 - Featuring an outlaw Sabe, Obi-wan, and Sabewan!
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bobilll Registered: Aug '02	Date Posted: 8/21/05 7:42am Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/20
	GAh! That was soooo close! Why didn't you do it, Sabe? Pull the trigger an be done with that mushy gushy man! Sigh, Amidolee, you characterize her so well! The whole idea of oaths just creep me out! A cool, aloof corner of her mind scoffed. How delusional could Amidala be? Skywalker did not honor oaths. What made her think one sealed with a kiss would be any different? Sabé gritted her teeth. Clearly an understanding of oaths still eluded Amidala. Go, cool, aloof corner of Sabe's mind! -----signature----- You'll have to buy him a sweater.
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AngelQueen Registered: Mar '01	Date Posted: 8/21/05 4:19pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/20
	A cool, aloof corner of her mind scoffed. How delusional could Amidala be? Skywalker did not honor oaths. What made her think one sealed with a kiss would be any different? Sabé gritted her teeth. Clearly an understanding of oaths still eluded Amidala. wince Ouch. Sabé's bitterness really cuts to the core. Excellent post, Amidolee! I loved how Sabé and the others found the romance between Anakin and Padmé sickening. That was a great touch! AQ -----signature----- "Anakin, my allegiance is to the Republic, to democracy!" "If you're not with me, then you're my enemy." "Only a Sith deals in absolutes. I will do what I must." "You will try." Obi-Wan and Anakin
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PadawanKitara Registered: Dec '01	Date Posted: 8/21/05 8:33pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/20
	Darn Sabe' and her oaths and sympathies- just do it! oops- I guess I sound a little blood thirsty this evening -----signature----- Courtier of the Royal Order of Shambling Dufi We are Dufi...Resistance is Futile! UCLA BRUINS
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Senator_Lorena Registered: Oct '03	Date Posted: 8/22/05 2:44pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/20
	If she succeeded, the galaxy would be better off. Emotions have a funny way of making us stray from what needs to be done. -----signature----- "Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you'll land among the stars. ~ Less Brown "For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but to save the world through him." ~ John 3:17 NIV
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MasterSareBabe Registered: Dec '04	Date Posted: 8/24/05 3:23pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/20
	“Since when do Jedi own droids?” “Since when do Jedi marry?” Gosh, I also wanted her to kill him! How you manipulate our feelings that I would want her to kill such a hot specimen of humanity!
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Amidolee Registered: Jan '00	Date Posted: 8/28/05 5:08pm Subject: RE: One Prick to Bleed - an AU beginning in AotC (Obi, Ani, Sabe, Yoda) - 8/28
	Okay, I have no excuse for the delay, other than procrastination and some DRL. This will be the last flashback for awhile, and I meant to post it with the next part, because it's probably more effective that way, but I didn't want to make y'all wait. “You trounced him! I still can’t believe it!” Sabé barely had time to turn before the shouting blur plowed into her, nearly swinging past and taking Sabé with her. The blur righted herself, long dark hair swinging wildly as she locked an arm through Sabé’s. “Trounced,” Saché declared gleefully. “Absolutely trounced!” “Yes, you keep saying that,” said Sabé, glancing nervously around the pillared west corridor. All she needed was one of the schoolmasters to come storming out of a classroom, hissing for quiet and slashing their scores—or worse—forbidding them from sitting the exams— “Oh, come on!” Saché giggled. “I know you’re pleased.” Sabé ducked her head, trying to hide the grin threatening to split her face. “Yes, all right,” she said after a moment, lifting her chin. “I am pleased.” Saché’s laugh bounced off the marble pillars, echoing down the long curve of the outside corridor. Students hurrying to class or taking a moment to gather themselves in the gardens looked up, either curious or disturbed as they passed. It was review day and tomorrow the exams would start in earnest. Sabé bit her lip nervously, thinking about the long week ahead. “You can take longer to gloat,” said Saché. “Save your seriousness for the classroom, missy.” Sabé grinned at Saché. The fourteen-year-old’s hair was still damp from the showers and falling in frizzing waves around her shoulders. Sabé had likewise forgone the time it took to dry her hair, but she had the mind to make three thin braids on each side of her head and pull them back with a clasp to keep tidy. Getting a demerit for untidiness would dampen the warm glow of triumph in her, surely. “I still can’t believe it,” Saché said, her arm still through Sabé’s. “You got Ashdon, and you smashed him! How did you do it?” Sabé shrugged, thinking back an hour ago to her weapons exercise test. What would her mother say? She was already horrified her only daughter was studying the old dance-art of fighting instead of “actual dance” beyond the school’s requirement. Nor had she been pleased when Sabé’s marks in weaponry and tumbling edged over her academics. Sabé could very well imagine the defeated eye-roll when her mother learned she’d just topped everyone! Especially Rodhric Ashdon! Sabé could barely suppress her glee as she replayed the kill point in her mind. She’d beaten Rodhric Ashdon. Trounced him. When it came to marksmanship, Sabé reigned in the class, but physical floor dueling was her weak point. She was too slight, too small against bigger, stronger opponents. Sometimes her agility and instincts helped her, but the boys in the class were quick to use their strength to their advantage. Especially Rodhric Ashdon. Tall and broad, arrogant and cunning, he ruled the school as well as the duel floor. He took it as a great offense whenever Sabé bested him in marksmanship, and so took great pleasure in killing her on the mat or pestering her in the corridors. Not anymore. Sabé could not quite say how she bested him today. Maybe her intense desire to rid Ashdon of that arrogant smirk, or the pressure to do well today . . . She only knew everything had been right, every move perfect. She didn’t remember feeling anything except the rhythm and dance of the duel. Perhaps she had finally excepted Ashdon was a better fighter than her, that she never would be top in any one class, just close to the top, and that was fine . . . and somehow coming to terms with this had cleared her of any inhibition, any emotion that would interfere. The old bow had felt wonderful and comforting in her hands. She could still feel it, like solid liquid, however ridiculous it sounded to anyone else. Saché elbowed her, bringing her back to the present and the question. “I don’t know,” Sabé said honestly. “Everything just felt right, you know?” Saché widened her dark eyes. “No, I don’t know. But you had this—I don’t know—Lok’hai thing going on. Like when you’re meditating, except a bit . . . deadly.” She grinned madly. “It was fantastic! Master Cjane has it on holo and he’s going to archive it.” “Really?” Master Cjane always complimented her form and often used Sabé as an example of “intelligent, instinctual battle”, but she never expected him to archive her duels. “Really.” The girls slowed as they neared the government lecture hall. Students were trickling out from a finished review. Although they were not required to wear uniforms on review day, many did, probably out of habit or superstition. Sabé did not like the somber, unhappy faces emerging from one of her least favorite halls. “Hours of my life I will never get back,” she muttered to Saché. Saché snickered and tugged Sabé away from the entrance, where queuing students were exchanging greetings with those trying to escape Mistress Orlé’s Lair of Political Doom. Sabé caught a flash of a certain face before Saché pulled her behind one of the pillars. “What?” Saché grinned mischievously at her. “I bet word’s got around.” “So?” Sabé started to glance around the column, but Saché tapped her on the shoulder. “I bet he’s heard,” Saché said significantly. Unbidden, unwanted, Sabé felt the burn in her cheeks. “Saché,” she warned, trying to look menacing while resembling an overripe miika fruit. “I wonder what he’ll say?” “Saché!” “Maybe you’ll actually talk to him. With words. Syllables went out with the wheel, you know—” “Saché, please!” “Oh no, I’ve got it! Maybe he’ll ask you to the relief ball—” “How about I show you how I trounced Ashdon?” “I was there, silly, I saw, it was great like I said—” Sabé whipped around, using their linked elbows to swing Saché against the pillar, her free hand closing over her friend’s mouth. Saché’s eyes went wide in astonishment, but then she started to shake, her lips trembling with muffled laughter under Sabé’s palm. “It’s not funny.” Sabé released Saché and picked up her dropped bag. Hopefully she had not damaged her datapad. “Sorry, but it is,” said Saché, but quietly. Sabé peeked around the column. The scene was clear, everyone had gone inside to Mistress Orlé’s Chambers of Eternal Boredom. Her stomach fluttered. “Oh, gods.” Saché put an arm around Sabé’s waist, her head on her shoulder. “I don’t think the Dragon Lady considers vomiting an excuse to miss her spectacular review.” Sabé snorted. “Just think—you’ll be all the buzz and he’ll have to ask you—” “Saché,” Sabé said pleadingly, “you haven’t told anyone, have you?” “No.” Saché gave Sabé one of her rare somber looks. She placed her left hand over her heart. “Your secrets are always safe with me, Sabé.” Then she flashed a sneaky grin. “Now, Aliya Darli on the other hand . . .” “You’re going to be late,” said Sabé, looking across the garden where Saché’s next class was held. “No worries,” Saché said airily, dropping a kiss on Sabé’s cheek. “Master Po will be shocked I bothered to come at all.” Then, with a fluttering wave, she was off through the wide, encircled garden, her dark hair swinging free and wild in the late morning sunshine. Sabé watched her dearest friend for only another second, and then quickly spun around to her own hall. She passed through the threshold just as the bells chimed. “Glad you could join us, Miss Mabriee,” a cold, harsh voice rang above the bells. Sabé kept her eyes down, wishing she could point out her utter lack of tardiness. But she did not want to die. Instead she silently made her way across polished marble floor under the high, cavernous dome of the lecture hall. Not for the first time, she wished her desk was closer to the door, or that it was merely another row over. The braver of students turned to watch her embarrassing journey, their glances darting under Mistress Orlé’s predatory eye. Sabé caught winks and flashing grins, but she felt a little dizzy and sick to return them. Saché would have held her head high, a victorious smile on her face, as she marched grandly to her seat. And maybe Sabé could have held an air of dignity, if not for the bloody seating arrangement. Her seat was empty, waiting for her. Sabé focused on it, made it her one goal: get there before she vomited. Without looking anywhere else, she slid into her seat and placed her datapad in the groove and looked straight ahead at the Dragon Lady’s disapproving face. “Now that we’re all accounted for . . .” Sabé did her best to listen, but she could sense the faint whispers fluttering around her, could feel the eyes watching her. It was a strange feeling. The curving walls seemed to ripple with it. Sabé tried to focus on her datapad, on Orlé’s sharp, cutting voice, but the whispers swirled and she wanted desperately to look to her left. “Maybe he’ll ask you to the relief ball . . .” No, of course he won’t. It did not matter, anyway. After this week, they would all be parting for the holiday and the next step in their lives. Some would go to a higher university, others would focus on a career, and some might even leave Naboo for other worlds of opportunity. She would join her father on one of his runs, possibly see the Core, while she avoided her mother’s doting and tried to decide what to do next. So, really, it made no difference if she ever spoke in full sentences to Alek Nylan or not. Still, her rebellious eyes slid to her left and her insides squirmed. Alek Nylan—top of their year, popular like Ashdon, eye candy for the girls with his wavy hair and quiet smile. Native to Thasyin, he was considered one of the most eligible youth with his aristocratic heritage. Rumor had it he secretly wanted to be a starfighter pilot, but his parents were aiming him at the Theed Council or even the Republic Senate. Sabé did not know the validity of such rumors; she had never asked. All she knew was that, even when they were assigned projects together, her mouth and brain disconnected, her insides did disturbing things, and—most painful of all—he was nice about it and pretended not to notice. At the moment, Alek was entering notes on his datapad, apparently oblivious to the stirring around him. Sabé looked at her own notes, wondered when she’d become illiterate, and chanced another glance. He was looking at her. Sabé felt a funny sort of jolt and quickly looked ahead. She stared unblinkingly at Mistress Orlé’s stiff bun of dyed black hair, her hands clenched tightly in her lap. Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods . . . “Hey, Sabé,” came the inevitable whisper. Too weak to ignore it, Sabé looked over, hoping she did not appear to be in pain. Alek raised his eyebrows, a small smile dimpling his cheeks. “Is it true?” She gave him the slightest nod, her eyes tracking the Dragon’s lecture prowl. She wanted to die. If the Dragon caught her even trying to talk to Alek, then she would die. Too bad her tongue, the strongest muscle in the human body, had atrophied again. The Dragon was saying something about Amidala, Princess of Theed, who’d won the election two days ago, but Sabé was at a loss. Not that it really mattered. After the exam, she doubted she would have to bother with politics and the tangles of government again. She would vote, surely, but that would be her extent of politics— “Pardon the interruption,” the soft but artificial voice of a protocol droid’s voice came over the public address system. “Would Misses Sabé Mabriee and Saché Orzkal please report to conference chamber number four, please? Thank you.” All eyes turned to Sabé. “What did you do?” Alek asked aloud. Sabé only shook her head, for once her word loss having nothing to do with him. What had she done? Had Ashdon contacted his parents and had them complain to the headmaster because he had been thoroughly beaten by girl a third his size? What did that have to do with Saché? Or was it that little stunt they pulled last semester—? “Mistress Orlé?” The Dragon gave her a curt nod. Sabé shoved her datapad into her bag and slid out of her seat. Alek was watching her wonderingly and she tried not to trip as she hurried down the aisle. The moment the hall door shut behind her, Sabé let out a long breath. She paused to collect herself and then walked briskly toward the east wing, all the while her mind racing. She’d never been called out of class before. Not even for the time she had told Rodhric Ashdon off in the central courtyard for bullying one of the first years. Alek had been there, had cheered her—but that had been before she’d become deficient. Still, maybe he remembered that and didn’t think her a bumbling idiot after all— Sabé gave her head a firm shake. How could she think about a boy when she could be in serious trouble? She slowed a fraction when she reached the east wing. If she was in trouble, at least she could muster a little dignity. “Sabé!” Saché was waiting for her by a statue of King Folluna, the first king to rule Naboo after the last civil war. “What’s this all about?” asked Sabé, keeping her voice low. Conference chamber four was just around the corner. “I have no idea, but I suddenly wish I hadn’t dressed down.” Saché gestured at her casual attire of blue tunic, beige trousers, and worn brown leather boots. Her hair was lost completely. Sabé glanced down at her own clothes, glad she looked slightly better. Her own navy tunic was from last year’s uniform; the white embroidering gave it dignity she did not presently feel, and her soft blue skirted trousers and clean, black boots looked more presentable next to Saché’s more tumbled, mountain girl appearance. “Come on,” Sabé said, fidgeting with the clasp on her bag. “If this is about the headmaster’s prize equine, then it won’t matter what we look like.” “Oh, that was brilliant, wasn’t it? I wonder how he found out about that . . .” Together they rounded the corner and Sabé slowed. A gold protocol droid stood outside the open door to the conference chamber. Standing beside it was a dark, forbidding man in royal uniform. She’d seen him before. This morning, in the exercise arena . . . She had wanted to point him out to Saché, but then she’d been called to take her three archer shots and all thoughts of the stranger had vanished. They must really be in trouble. “Misses Mabriee and Orzkal?” said the droid. “Yes,” said Sabé, her eyes on the stranger. His stern face revealed nothing as he stared back at her. “The headmaster has secured you passes from classes for today,” the droid continued. “Please, come in.” Sabé exchanged a speculative look with Saché as the stranger gestured for them to enter first. Usually introductions came before the invitation to sit down, and what sort of trouble were they in to bring a royal officer here to Thasyin, bring them to a private chamber, and secure them passes for the rest of the day? It wasn’t like they’d harmed the headmaster’s equine any . . . “I hope the refreshments are satisfactory. If you need anything, just press the call and I will return immediately. Thank you. Have a wonderful day!” Sabé did not watch the protocol droid totter out of the small chamber; she was too busy watching this stern man. The room itself was not intimidating. The stone walls gently curved to the tall window overlooking the east terrace. A round, polished table filled the center of the room, accentuating the soothing flow emanating from the four small fountains in each spooned corner. “Please, sit down,” the man said, gesturing briskly at the high-backed, cushioned chairs. The two girls sat wordlessly. He continued to stand across the table from them, hands clasped behind his back, his cap sitting like a centerpiece on the table. “I am Captain Panaka, Head of Palace Security.” But we broke into the headmaster’s office, not the palace! “What is said in this room, stays in this room,” Captain Panaka continued, pinning them with a hard frown. “You can only tell your families what I tell you to tell them.” Saché cleared her throat. “Um, I do not mean to be rude or disruptive, whatever my record says, but—are we in trouble?” Captain Panaka raised an eyebrow. “Do you have reason to believe you’re in trouble, Miss Orzkal.” “Not today, no.” Sabé kept a straight face, but nudged Saché’s boot with her toe. Captain Panaka stared expressionlessly at Saché for a moment. Then: “No. You are not in trouble. Both you and Miss Mabriee have been selected for appointment. By the way, Miss Mabriee, excellent work this morning.” Sabé gaped. “T-thank you, Captain,” she choked out. Then she frowned. “What appointment?” Captain Panaka gave her a small smile. ~~~~~~~ Three guesses as to who will be in the next post. Oh, and I want to be to a certain point by Friday, because then I'm in the homestretch of insanity before I leave for England, so I plan to post frequently this week. -----signature----- Mar. 1 - One Prick to Bleed: http://boards.theforce.net/the_saga/b10476/20423905/p1 "You're like a walking encyclopedia of weirdness." Dean to Sam in Roadkill.
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