Title: What Do You Do with a Drunken Spectre? Author: Raissa Baiard Genre: Humor Timeframe: Saga-OT, Rebels S4,between 1BBY and 0BBY Characters: Sabine Wren, Ezra Bridger, Zeb Orrelios, Hera Syndulla Summary: When Ezra has too much to drink at Red Squadron’s party, Sabine and Zeb come up with an idea of what to do with a drunken Spectre. Notes: written for the Sea Shanty/Ballad Challenge. The shanty I received was “Drunken Sailor” Thanks to Findswoman and Ewok Poet for beta reading. Raising a glass of Branon’s best to you! Cheers ————————- The Yavin Rebels really knew how to throw a party, Sabine thought. Part of one of the the black basalt temples that housed the Alliance’s operations on Yavin IV had been turned into an informal rec area for the troops. Usually, it was a place to hang out between shifts, play a game of cards or grab a cup of tea. Tonight, though, the worn sofas and camp chairs had been shoved to the side of the room to create a dance floor. A couple of mechanics had jerry-rigged a sound system through the PA, and it was blaring Deeply Religious’ “Having Fun with Detonite”. On one side of the room, the plasti-form table that normally held an urn of hot water, tea bags, and flimsi cups, as well as a selection of hopelessly outdated reading material, had been turned into a bar. Sabine wasn’t sure where all the liquor had come from, but somehow they’d managed to get bottles of Corellian whiskey, retsa, Sullustan gin, and t’ssolok as well as a keg of lomin ale. But the star of the show seemed to be a wide selection of homebrew. Red Four, an enterprising Corellian pilot named Branon, operated a series of stills at a secret location in the jungle, distilling a variety of fruits and vegetation. The results weren’t half bad, Sabine reflected, sampling some of Branon’s most popular scarlet pulp-fruit liquor. Trust a Corellian to know how to turn anything into booze. “Hey, Sabine!” Ezra Bridger sidled up to her through the crowd, holding a large mug of something and looking like the Loth-cat that had caught the convor. “What are you doing here? Seriously?, the flat look he gave her asked. “Uh...hanging out, dancing, having a drink… You know, the things people usually do at parties.” Sabine sighed. The first part was no problem; not like Ezra didn’t already know two-thirds of the beings here just from around the base. The second—well, his dance moves were more Gungan Style than margengai-glide, but a little embarrassment never hurt anyone. But that last part… “A drink? You sure that’s a good idea? You’re a little…” “Don’t say it.” Ezra’s dark brows drew together and he scowled at her. He was still rather sensitive about being the youngest of the crew and younger than most of the other members of the Rebellion. The pilots in Phoenix Squadron knew what he could do, but some of the older guys in Red and Gold Squadrons liked to joke about Junior Commander Bridger. “Do not even say it. I’m almost nineteen. I could get a drink almost anywhere in the civilized Galaxy, you know.” He took a large gulp from his mug to emphasize his point; Sabine didn’t miss the way his eyes widened slightly as he swallowed. She refrained from mentioning that Yavin IV wasn’t really in the civilized Galaxy. “Fine, but maybe you want to skip the homebrew and stick with the lomin ale this time.” Branon’s concoctions tasted like juice, but with no one to make sure his products conformed to Imperial alcohol standards, it packed a kick, especially if you weren’t used to that kind of thing. “You’re drinking it.” Ezra pointed out stubbornly, taking another hefty swig. “Yeah, but I’m Mandalorian. Tihaar makes this stuff look like fizzyglug.” “Thanks for your concern,” he told her, though his expression said “butt out” and “go away”. “But I can handle myself, okay? “Okay,” Sabine said, shrugging, because what else, really, could she say? He’d already slipped back into the throng of Rebels dancing to a terrible sparkle-bop version of “Let Go My Lekku.” Some people just hard to learn for themselves. ——- Sabine left Ezra to his own devices while she enjoyed the party. She chatted with some of the pilots in the other squadrons, convinced the mechanic who was running the sound system to play some Kain Apollyon, danced a bit, and avoided Hobbie and his new sidekick, Wes Janson, when they tried to get her to dance to Steamy Wasaka Stew. She’d almost forgotten about Ezra when she spotted him leaning against the makeshift bar, looking more than a little pie-eyed. “Heeeey! Wan’ a drink, Sabine?” Ezra slurred enthusiastically when she went over to check on him. “Try the red pulpy-fruit fruit pulp stuff! ’S good!” She took the half-empty mug out his hand, took his arm and steered him away from the liquor table. “Sounds like you’ve had enough for both of us.” “Aw, Sabine!” Ezra wobbled a bit as he tried to walk while looking back longingly at the bottles that were still left on the table. “Sa-bine… Hey, you know your name sounds just like “say bean”? “Thanks, no one ever pointed that out before” Without me punching them. “Say bean!” Ezra giggled. “Bean!” He was drunk, Sabine reminded herself. She couldn’t really hit him when he didn’t even know what he was saying, could she? Much? “I think we ought to get you back to the Ghost now.” “Awwww, but the party’s still goin’, Bine-Bine!” “Come on,” Sabine growled, propelling him firmly towards the exit. “Let’s go before you really say something you’re going to regret.” ——— Sabine had hoped that getting Ezra out into the cool night air would sober him up a bit, but if anything, he seemed to look worse as she cajoled him down the path between the Massassi temples. “I don’ feel so good,” he complained, stopping for twelfth time in as many minutes. “Yeah, you don’t smell so good either.” Sabine nudged him to get him going again. She was not going to drag him to the Ghost if he passed out here. “Let’s keep moving. We’re almost home.” Instead of moving, he slung one arm around her shoulders and leaned heavily against her. Sabine stifled an exasperated sigh and kept walking, forcing Ezra to stagger down the path with her. The Ghost was just up ahead; she could kill him once they got there. He tottered to a stop at the foot of the boarding ramp and tried to put his other arm around her as well. “I love you, Bine-Bine…” “Uh huh.” Sabine dodged the intended embrace, causing him to sway and clutch the left landing strut to stay upright. She clenched her teeth and prodded Ezra sharply in the small of the back. Just get into the ship already. Because if he didn’t stop calling her “Bine-Bine”, she really was going to have to kill him. “No, really!” He goggled at her like an owl wearing magnifying specs. “You’re like...my best friend...and I just… you… I really, really love…” Before he could finish his heartfelt confession, Ezra’s face turned a sickly shade of green. He lurched sideways and Sabine turned away just in time to miss him seeing him get spectacularly ill right onto the middle of the ramp. Great… So not cleaning that up… “I’m...okay…” Ezra panted, leaning against the landing strut. “Just...gonna…” His eyes rolled back and he slid down the strut, crumpling into a heap at the bottom. —— “Ugh, and he thinks I smell bad!” Zeb wrinkled his nose as he looked down at his unconscious cabinmate. The Lasat hadn’t been too pleased when Sabine woke him up to come help her with Ezra, but there was no way she was handling this one on her own. Sabine thought she could have gotten Ezra to his cabin by herself, but hoisting him up into the top bunk would have been a bit much with Zeb still snoring away in the bottom bunk. (How did Ezra manage to sleep through that, anyway?) And she was definitely not going to be the one to deal with cleaning him up. Not part of her job description. “Did you know he was planning to go the party tonight?” Sabine asked as Zeb continued to glare at Ezra as though he had passed out specifically to annoy him. “What am I? His social secretary?” “Whatever, just help me get him to bed.” Zeb crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head, lips curling back from his impressive canines in disgust. “You're not puttin’ him in my room like that!” She might have known Zeb wasn’t actually going to be any help, the big stubborn lug. She’d have been better off getting Chopper...well, maybe not. “So what do you suggest we do with Ezra then? Put him on the couch? Stuff him in the Phantom ’til he dries out?” “Leave him there,” Zeb said, turning away with a shrug and a snort. “Are you kidding? Hera would blow a gasket if she found Ezra like this! Kanan too...I bet there’s some rule against Jedi being drunk.” “So? Kinda deserves it, doesn’t he?” Zeb poked Ezra in the ribs with a prehensile toe. “ ’Sides, it’s better than what we used to do to drunk Guards back on Lasan.” “What was that?” Sabine had heard some of Zeb’s stories of his days in the Honor Guard, and she could only imagine… “Well, the time my buddy Gunvar came back from leave smashed out of his mind on flameouts and Lira San sunrises, we took Groz’s rusty old beard trimmer, buzzed off his sideburns and shaved ‘I love goats’ in his chest fur. Took it almost a month to grow back in.” Zeb chuckled with fond reminiscence. “Good times!” “Hmm.” Sabine doubted that the unfortunate Gunvar had agreed at the time. Still… maybe Ezra could use a bit of a lesson, especially after calling her Bine-Bine. “That’s not really going to work for the Junior Commander here, but I think he could use a makeover. Always wondered what he’d look like with a more interesting haircut…” She considered it for a moment. “What do you think, shave the sides up and give him some hot pink streaks?” Zeb’s green eyes lit up with a wicked gleam and his mouth curved into a toothy grin. “I’ve got a better idea, one that’ll make extra sure the kid never gets poodoo-faced like this again.” Sabine almost choked when he explained his plan. “You’re an evil, evil being, Garazeb Orrelios! Let’s do it!” ——— At promptly 06:00 that morning, Sabine, Zeb, Hera and Chopper were gathered in the Ghost’s main corridor. “I really don’t like this,” Hera said, shaking her head, her lips pressed together. “You want him to learn a lesson about getting stupid drunk? Trust me, this’ll do it.” Zeb grunted. Hera sighed. “I don’t have much choice at this point, do I? All right, Chopper, wake him up.” ———— BWOP! BWOP! BWOP! “Huh?” The blaring noise of Chopper’s alarm jabbed into Ezra’s skull like a sonic screwdriver into an overripe meiloorun. He tried to pull his pillow over his head to block out the noise, but even moving that much made his head spin. He ached like he’d tumbled down one of the Massassi temples, hitting every stone step on the way down...and then had a bantha sit on him. Was possibly still sitting on his head. His mouth tasted like he’d licked the Ghost’s fuel filter and his stomach felt like it, too. The cabin’s dim light stabbed at his bleary eyes. The cabin. There was something not quite right about the cabin. Ezra forced his eyes open and waited for the world to come back into focus. When it did, he realized he was staring up at a mural of the entire crew, with Zeb giving him a noogie. Not the mural of him crashing down onto Zeb when Chopper pranked them. Not the mural in his cabin. This one was in…Sabine’s cabin…. Which meant he was in… Sabine’s bunk. “Whoa!” Ezra sat up with a jolt and promptly fell out from the top bunk onto the cabin floor. He landed with a resounding thud that shook all his aching joints and was going to leave some serious bruises on his backside, but that was nothing. He was in Sabine’s cabin. He was only wearing a tesh-tunic and shorts…. And he had no idea how he’d gotten there. Ezra scrambled to his feet and began to search frantically for the rest of his clothes. Okay, think… he ordered his addled brain. It reluctantly cooperated, dredging up up some hazy images from the murky sludge of his memory. Last night…party. Right. Dancing… had a little to drink… maybe a lot… left with Sabine… He shook his head as if he could rattle the pieces back together. Then what?! THEN WHAT?! Where was Sabine now? Where were his clothes?!? Maybe… maybe he could slip out now and find them. Maybe he could get some caf and clear his head and figure things out before… anything else happened… Ezra pressed the door release and peered out into the hall.. “Good morning.” Squinting in the blindingly bright light of the corridor, Ezra nearly ran into Sabine, who was just outside the door, smiling sweetly. But she wasn’t alone. Behind her, Zeb was watching with an evil grin, and next to him, Hera leaned against Chopper, her arms folded over her chest, looking So Not Amused. She raised an eyebrow at him. “And just what were you doing in Sabine’s cabin?” The eyebrow edged up a notch and her voice dropped to several thousand degrees below zero. “In your microgarments?” “Uh…” That was an excellent question, Ezra thought, and he really, really wished he had an answer for it. Unfortunately, the part of his brain capable of stringing two words together at a time seemed to have deserted him along with his memories. He gave Sabine a desperate look. A little help here? She simply continued to smile at him. “Go ahead, kar’ta, tell her about last night!” “Um…last night… Yeah, I…” Ezra stammered, writhing under the gaze of three pairs of eyes and a set of optical receptors. “I don’t actually…” “You don’t remember?” Sabine’s smile turned into a pout. “But you said you’d never forget!” “I…did?” She leaned towards Ezra, her eyes locking onto his. “You don’t remember the party?” “Well…” “You don’t remember how we left together and walked home in the moonlight?” “Yeah...uh, kind of…” “You don’t remember putting your arms around me and telling me you loved me?” Sabine edged a little closer, and took his hand. Her smile was half teasing, half dreamy. She lowered her eyelashes coquettishly. “And then…” “Yeah…?” Ezra squeaked. His mouth was as dry as the plains of Atollon; he swallowed hard. Was she really going to tell him everything in front of Hera and Zeb? Sabine let go of his hand and stepped back so quickly Ezra almost fell over. “And then you threw up all over the ramp and passed out. And Zeb and I decided to teach you a lesson about getting so poodoo-faced drunk you couldn’t remember what you did the night before.” Zeb’s face split into a toothy grin and he burst out laughing. “You shoulda seen your face, kid! Oh, wait, you can…’cause I had Chopper record it for posterity!” “Bwaaaa!” Chopper confirmed. The holo-image of Ezra furtively peering out of Sabine’s cabin, eyes as wide as a startled kneeb’s, hovered in the air, and Chopper zoomed the image in for a better view of Ezra’s guilty expression. “BWAHAHAHA!” “Classic!” Zeb chortled. He slapped a hand against one striped knee. “Aw, that’s even better than when we painted Velibor’s armor pink with pittins and dyed his bantha chops to match!” “Hey! Wait… What…?! I didn’t… We didn’t…?” Ezra spluttered and stammered trying to make sense of what just happened there. So he hadn’t spent the night in Sabine’s cabin, after all? Nothing happened? Nothing at all? Relief that he hadn’t really done anything he couldn’t remember washed over him, quickly followed by… “A JOKE? THIS WAS YOUR IDEA OF A JOKE?!“ Yelling made Ezra’s head feel like it was going to explode; his outrage dwindled down to indignant muttering. “You guys … I’m not… So. Not. Funny! Hera, I can’t believe you let them do this!” “Me? I had nothing to with this,” Hera informed him as Sabine and Zeb smirked. “But if you kids are done having fun now....” “Fun?!” Ezra winced as his outburst sent another spike through his head. “Fun?” He hissed. “This wasn’t fun! And I’m not a kid!” Hera regarded him narrowly. “No? And I’m not your mother.” She tapped one finger against the center of his chest. “But I am your captain, and as your captain, I’m telling you: show up on my ship drunk again and I’m throwing you off of it. Understand? “Er, yes ma’am…” “Good.” Her scowl relaxed slightly. “Now go get some breakfast. You’ve got a lot of work to do today—starting with cleaning up the ramp. Zeb, would you be so kind as to show Ezra where you put his clothes?” ————— Hera stifled a smile as Zeb led Ezra off to their cabin and Sabine headed to the galley to make some caf. Once they were gone, the smile was followed by half a chuckle and then another and then a whole string of laughter which she hastily smothered. It wouldn’t do for them to know that she’d found their little prank amusing. It wasn’t the way she would have handled things, but Sabine’s mock-lovestruck act and Ezra’s befuddled stammering and hangdog expression…. She bit back another snicker. Then again, it looked they might have taught Ezra his lesson about drinking in excess, and that was all to the good in the end. Because she was not his mother, and short of following through on her threats to throw him off the Ghost, what could she do with a drunken Spectre? ++++ Spoiler: Notes: Branon: John D. Branon, Red Four, is an EC, but his background as a moonshiner is purely fanon. I needed someone to provide homebrewed liquor, and since he had no real backstory, I chose him. He’s also mentioned in the same capacity inStar Crossed, in a brief episode that inspired this story. Deeply Religious: a band whose music was banned by the Imperial Board of Culture for its anti-Imperial messages. “Having Fun with Detonite” was on their album Advanced Explosives Handbook. Let Go My Lekku: a song that can be heard in SW: TOR. I love the title. Sparkle-bop: a musical genre with catchy musics and lightweight lyrics. Tihaar: an incredibly potent Mandalorian liquor Gungan Style: really is canon... http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Margengai-glide]Margengai-glide: a dance-step, formed by from a series of complex patterns. Kain Apollyon: a quenk-jazz musician that Sabine listens to, per Sabine’s Rebel Sketchbook. Steamy Wasaka Stew: A jizz-wailer group, @Ewok Poet’s creation. Lira San sunrises: fanon drink. Groz, Gunvar, and Velibor:OC’s, Zeb’s friends and fellow Honor Guards, created for The Beginning of Honor. Kar’ta: Mandalorian for “heart” or “soul”. As close as I could find to a Mando endearment.