Chapter 9 by Darth Krispies - Added complycations.

In a spectacular display of foul temper, Amidala heaved an expensive vase nearly the entire length of the council chamber, smashing it against the door that had just barely shut behind a disgraced Governor Bibble. The remaining people in the room – Jedi, security volunteers, counselors and handmaids, even the holographic image of Senator Palpatine – cringed at the sound. All except Master Qui-Gon Jinn, who merely smiled a slight, tolerant smile. It was enough to make him a target. The primary source of her rage now out of sight, the queen turned her ire on him.

“Don’t you fapping give me that tolerant smile **** , Mr. Qui Gon-sure-it-was-two-against-one-but-he-got-away-and-oops-by-the-way-we-blew-up-half-your-city-Jinn! I hate being tolerated! God, I am surrounded by screw-ups and idiots! How is it that I can penetrate to the most heavily guarded part of the building with a bunch of security volunteers – not even professionals, mind you – and take the Viceroy prisoner, while you and your apprentice can’t manage to take out one lousy bad guy?”

Boy, what a bitch, thought Anakin, scooting a little further behind Qui-Gon’s robe, the last of his innocent boyhood crush fading away.

Qui-Gon’s thoughts were running along the same lines, but he was a bit more understanding, being aware that the teenage queen was PMS-ing something fierce. He schooled himself to patience and addressed her in his best Jedi calm-the-hell-down voice.

“The Force moves in mysterious ways. Obi-Wan and I would almost certainly have prevailed had this girl not appeared and set in motion the events which led to the unfortunate explosion in the melting pits. Even if we had known she was your missing cousin there was nothing we could have done to alter fate.”

Mater Yoda spoke up. “Speaks the truth, Qui-Gon does. Very powerful is the Dark Side, and it’s servant this Iridonian surely is. Very hard to see, is the Dark Side.”

Amidala rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s hard to see, you pretentious green yutz. It’s Dark. Dark things are hard to see. Even I can work that one out.”

Mace Windu was shocked. “How dare you speak to the ancient and venerable Master Yoda in this manner! Don’t you know he is nearly 900 years old?”

“Oh, excuse me. I meant ‘Master’ pretentious green yutz. I mean, really, you’d think in 900 years he could bother to learn the rules of Basic grammar?” Amidala was feeling totally fed up. She had a pounding headache and just knew she was holding water. All she wanted right now was to kill every male-gendered person in the room, put on a loose, comfortable caftan, and dive into the box of chocolates hidden on the top shelf of her wardrobe (Diva Luxury Extra-Dark Assortment – 'So rich they must be evil')

Qui-Gon tried to salvage the deteriorating situation. “At least the worst of the blast was either contained or diverted. Much of Theed City remains intact.”

Amidala brightened slightly. “That’s true, and the diverted blast portion did manage to destroy the Viceroy’s droid army out on the plains.”

“But it wiped out virtually the entire Gungan race as well,” Windu reminded them solemnly. Everybody else in the room cheered perceptibly.

“Ah, it’s an ill wind that blows no good,” said the holographic senator.

Windu turned to Qui-Gon. “Do you think this Sith could have survived the explosion and escaped this world?”

“I think it is entirely possible, given that he was doubtless highly skilled and that we have found no trace of the ship he must surely have arrived in. We know from the Viceroy which hangar it was in, and the building, although damaged, was empty when the rubble was cleared. It’s possible he took the girl with him as a hostage, especially if he discovered her identity.”

Amidala shook her head in disgust. “She probably told him within 5 seconds. Dimwit. I mean, holy crow. All Bibble had to do was keep her safe until all the various legal proceedings were completed and she inherited. As it stands now, thanks to her disappearance a good 75 per cent of Naboo’s wealth is tied up in red tape and we can’t free up enough funds to put the city back in shape until Panasia’s found, dead or alive.” Amidala frowned darkly. “And frankly, I’m not too picky about which it turns out to be.” Frustrated, she turned on Qui-Gon again. “ I still don’t understand why a Jedi Master and his hot-shot senior apprentice couldn’t defeat a single evil, wicked, sinister, yet strangely alluring and sexy Sith.” She blinked and fanned herself . “Um, is it me or is it getting warm in here?”

The others stared, then looked away, coughing and shuffling their feet in embarrassment. Amidala gave them an impatient ‘what?’ look.

After a moment, Windu turned to the senator’s holograph. “Didn’t I hear that a girl answering Panasia’s description was seen a dinner party you gave last night?”

Palpatine gave an avuncular little chuckle. “Ah, that is true, Master Windu. One of my aids has a fiancé who bears a superficial resemblance to the Queen’s cousin. No, be assured that I appreciate the girl’s value, and have a great personal fondness for her as well, which I flatter myself she returns. I have already set a search in motion on my end, and will certainly keep you informed of any progress it makes. In the meantime, your highness, may I suggest that Governor Bibble be removed as the girl’s legal guardian? Clearly he is as unfit as he is incompetent. I think a new, more responsible guardian for dear little Panasia is in order.”

Captain Panaka spoke up for the first time. “I agree with the senator, your highness. In fact, I think the senator himself would make the best possible guardian for your cousin, when and if she is found.”

Palpatine expressed surprise. “Me? Do you really think so? Ah, it would be nice to have a child about the place, and sweet little Panasia would be such a comfort in my declining years…”

Amidala leapt on the suggestion like an alien face-hugger on an expendable crewman. “If you’re willing, senator, that would be ideal. On Coruscant she’d be well guarded, well advised, and best of all, well away from Naboo. It’s perfect! I’ll get the papers drawn up on this end immediately.”

Yoda came out of his silent snit long enough to say “Qui-Gon, to seek this Sith and his hostage you and Obi-Wan must go.”

Anakin piped up in his cloying, adorable voice “But what about me, Master Yoda?”

Yoda sighed and gave into the boy’s persistent cuteness. “When return Obi-wan does, advanced to Jedi Knight he will be and Qui-Gon your master will become.”

Windu frowned suddenly and looked around. “Say, where is Obi-wan anyway?”

Suddenly suspicious, Amidala looked over her shoulder at her handmaidens. “And where are Mazi and Dazi?”

**********************************

Obi-Wan came up for air, planting a kiss and a lick on the smooth, brown skin of Mazi’s inner thigh as he lifted her off his face and tossed her playfully to the end of the enormous bed, where she landed with a squeak and a giggle. He started to sit up, but fell back with a groan as Dazi’s enthusiastic tongue wrapped snake-like around his engorged member. Mazi bounced back up to the head of the bed and flopped herself across his chest, her small round breasts tantalizingly close to his mouth. He caught one with a quick lunge, pulling her against him as his lips and tongue teased an already-erect nipple into adamantine hardness. Mazi squealed again.

An unwelcome sound made Obi-Wan look at the bedchamber door, no longer securely locked but wide open, framing the tall form of his Master. With a hasty movement, he disentangled himself from various lips and limbs whose owners reached vainly after him and made cries of protest.

“Uh, master! I, uh, wasn’t expecting you, um. I was just, um, helping Mazi here, um, find something she, um lost,” Obi Wan gestured at a tousled blond head and began to hastily rummage through his pile of discarded clothing for his pants.

“I’m Dazi! She’s Mazi,” the blond pouted.

Qui-Gon lifted an eyebrow. “I’m afraid whatever she lost is probably gone for good, but it was kind of you to help her look. No doubt you were so intent upon your search you forgot about our meeting with Master Yoda and the Queen.”

Obi-Wan stopped struggling into his pants long enough to give Qui-Gon a panicked look. “The meeting! Aw damn!” He grabbed his remaining clothes and ran, pausing briefly at the door to throw a regretful look at the bed and an apologetic look at his master.

Qui-Gon gestured slightly and the door closed and locked behind Obi-Wan. Turning back to the handmaidens sulking lusciously on the oversized bed, he smiled. “I’m sorry to have interrupted your afternoon nap, ladies.” He tossed his brown outer robe across a table and began to unbuckle his belt. “I wonder if there is something I could do for you to make up for it?” Belt fell to the floor, followed shortly by boots.

Mazi and Dazi, started to edge away to the opposite side of the bed, making noises about needing to be somewhere else and pulling the sheets around themselves.

Then the pants fell.

Two delicate jaws dropped, four beautiful eyes widened, and eight slim, lithe limbs began to shove silken sheets aside and open invitingly. Qui-Gon tossed the last of his clothes to the floor and said, “Now, ladies. Let me explain to you the difference between a padawan and a master.”

*******************************

Darkness.

*sniff*

*sob*

*snnneeerrrrkkk*

Jango sat up abruptly, dragging Jango and Jango, who were chained on either side of him, with him.

“Oh, for crying out loud, what are you blubbering about?” He glared at Jango, chained to his left.

Jango sniffed again and dragged the back of his hand across his runny nose. “mumble mumble,” he mumbled

“What?”

“I said, I miss Lefty.”

From the right, Jango gloomily said “Don’t bother. You’re probably going to see him again real soon. We all will.”

Jango(left) wailed again, louder this time.

Jango(center) smacked Jango(right) across the back of the head. “Why’d you have to go and set him off? Moron.”

Jango(right) rubbed the back of his head. “Well it’s true. I don’t know if you noticed, but our boss is not precisely the forgiving type. Lefty was probably the lucky one. Besides, who are you calling a moron? If I’m one, so are you.”

“How do you figure that?”

“Because we’re clones, dumbass. Identical genes, identical training. Duh.”

Jango(left) blew his nose. “Then how do you explain Lefty.”

Jango(right) shrugged. “I don’t. Not my job.”

Jango(center) said “Huh. Guys on Kamino are prob’ly working out right now how to make sure morons like you don’t happen again.”

Jango(right) bristled. “Stop calling me a moron, dumbass!”

Jango(center) lunged at him. “I’ll show you dumbass!”

Jango(left) yanked Jango(center) back. “Guys, guys! Look! The boss!”

All three looked over to where Jango was pointing just in time to see the flickering blue of a hologram resolve itself into the head and shoulders of a hooded figure, face visible only from the nose down. The three got to their feet with much pulling and cursing.

The hologram spoke. “This is your lucky day, boys. You may thank me now.”

The Jangos chorused “Thank you, sir”

“You’re welcome. I have decided to grant you the opportunity to redeem yourselves. Since you have shown yourselves to be useless as guards, let us see how you fare at intelligence gathering. There is a small matter that has come to my attention, and I wish to ensure that it never becomes more than a small matter. A minor warlord with a stronghold in the D’jestyv system appears to be interested in expanding into Republic space. I understand he has called a number of his unsavoury associates to a meeting for a purpose yet unknown. You will hire yourselves on in whatever capacities you can with this warlord or one of his arriving guests and gather all the information about his intentions you can. I will give you more details after you have cleaned up and prepared yourselves to leave.”

The hologram gestured and the chains fell from the Jangos. Behind them a door opened and they obediently turned to file out.

“Wait,” the hologram ordered.

They turned apprehensively.

“You there. Jango.”

“Yes sir?

“No, the other one.”

“Who, me sir?”

“No, no, you there.”

Jango’s eyes widened slightly in fear. “Yes sir?”

“Wipe the snot off your face before you put your helmet on, there’s a good lad.” The hologram faded.

****************************

Lord Sidious sat back again after ending the transmission. Well, that ought to keep them far away from both Lord Maul (and just where the hell was he, anyway? It was time to hear some good news for a change) and the interfering Jedi. D’Viant was not any real concern to him, but it would be useful to see if these clones showed promise at anything but brute force and occasional pleasurable companionship. Kamino promised that the next set sent out for beta testing would be considerably improved.

Chapter 10 by Darth Krispies - The Warlord Cometh (and he wasn’t even breathing hard)

Melissa pulled her dark, thick hair back away from her face, securing it into a severe twist at the nape of her neck. She donned a shapeless, high-necked dress, a small pair of square eyeglasses, and a stern yet benevolent expression. She whirled to face her erstwhile lover, now almost fully-dressed himself, and struck a dramatic pose.

“Ta-da! Mother Phouka! It’s a fabulous gig, Maulie. The scared little runaway teens simply flock to the shelter of my protective wings. I never have to pay for saleable stock anymore. It’s amazingly profitable.” She dropped the pose and leered at him over the tops of her eyewear. “You know, if you ever decide to look for work in the private sector, I could probably be convinced to take you on as a partner.” She blew him a kiss and pushed the glasses back up her nose. “Now, let me just get the coordinates for the D’jestyv system up…”

Maul pulled on his boots. “Coming Attractions. That’s usually broadcast from the Pron system, isn’t it?”

Melissa turned and smiled at him. “That’s right, lovey. Except this time it isn’t. My sources, who are very, very good you know, tell me that the Warlord D’Viant, he’s the show’s backer, you know, is producing a ‘Very Special Episode’ of CA. Twenty-four couples, twenty-four species, no two pairings alike, or something like that. What’s more, he’s having it filmed at his very own fortress, and the, er, talent is to be given out to his guests after the show. Like party favors. I should think your master’s little paramour will be quite the prize.”

“Time is short. Give me the coordinates. I’ll take my own ship. It would be too dangerous for you to be seen with me.” Maul stood and reached for his belt.

“Don’t be absurd, darling” Melissa said, entering her unlock code into the ship’s master computer. “Even you can’t possibly do this alone. I’ll be your back-up, and after you turn the dim, peroxided heiress over to your master, we can take the time for a proper reunion.”

Maul sauntered over to her, buckling his belt. He put a black-gloved hand behind her neck and pulled her face around, planting a long, deep kiss on her full, hungry lips. “Have you forgotten, Melly my sweet” he whispered “I always work alone”. With that, he gave a small twist to her neck and she dropped senseless to the floor. Moving quickly he copied the file Melissa had pulled up on the navigation computer and fed a customized virus into her on-board systems that would keep the ship grounded for days. The last thing he needed was for his clingy ex-girlfriend to be following him all over the known galaxy again. He’d had enough trouble dumping her the first time.

******************************

Panasia awoke abruptly when rough hands seized her and dragged her to her feet. Before she had time to do more that make a small “hey!” of protest, she was dragged from her tiny cell pushed out into the ship’s corridor. A moment later, she was off the slave ship and in a large hanger, where she saw a large, diverse crowed of beings being shoved and herded into sort of pen cordoned off with energy beams. She hung back in terror, for a moment, but fear turned to joy and relief when she caught sight of Ackbar jumping up and down, waving at her from the mass of prisoners. Once in the pen, they pushed their way towards each other.

“Ackbar! Is it you? I feared you were dead, or worse!” Panasia squealed excitedly, grasping her friend’s familiar yet sticky tentacles in her own soft, white, perfectly manicured hands. “What is happening to us? Where’s uncle Palpy? I have got to get a change of clothes, and my hair must be a mess!”

“Dear, dear Panasia!” cried Ackbar. “Oh woe, that it should fall to me to be the bearer of such terrible tidings. You see, while locked up with Darla here” Ackbar gestured toward an enormous, muscular Mon Calamari who acknowledged him with a wink and a coy flutter of her finger/tentacles, “I discovered what is to become of us.”

“Oh Ackbar, my dearest friend. Now that we are together again, how bad can it be?” Panasia detached her fingers form Ackbar’s grasp, not having failed to notice the increasingly jealous looks his savage new girlfriend was casting her way.

“Very bad indeed. Now, try to be brave, but you see, they intend to use you, and all of us, in most vile and decidedly carnal manner for their degraded entertainment.” Ackbar was practically hyperventilating in his anxiety.

“You mean…” Panasia gasped and covered her mouth in horror.

“Yes! They intend to ravish you!”

“But…but… I’m engaged! I’m practically a married woman! They can’t do that to me!”

“Engaged? When? To whom?” Even in extreme duress, Ackbar tried to be careful about his grammar.

“Why, to…” Panasia stopped and frowned prettily for a moment, then laughed. “How silly of me. Do you know, I never got his name. What an absent-minded girl I am. Well, never mind. I’d know him anywhere, with his adorable black and red tattoos and erect, virile horns.”

Ackbar gulped. “Um, tattoos and horns? Are you sure? I mean, are you sure you’re engaged? He actually asked you to marry him?”

Panasia blushed. “Why, not in so many words, but after what we shared…” she sighed. “Surely no-one would do those sorts of things without marrying a girl afterwards. I’m not a complete idiot, you know. I can read, and there’s never been a book worth reading where the heroine (that’s me) doesn’t marry the dreamy, gorgeous male who first ravishes her, no matter how indifferent he may seem at first.” Panasia heaved another heartfelt, visually impressive sigh and gazed away into the distance.

Faced with Panasia’s iron-clad delusions, Ackbar merely nodded, gloomily wondering if it might not be better to spend the rest of his life as a sex-slave rather than be around when his master heard about Panasia’s “engagement”. There was little enough chance of rescue anyway.

Just as she was losing herself in moist, heated fantasies of her inevitable honeymoon (more hot showers, oh gosh yes), Panasia felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to gaze up into the soulful blue eyes of the bronze godlike man she had seen in the adjoining cell aboard ship.

He in turn was nearly bowled over by the sultry look in her eyes and the slight sheen of sweat on her upper lip. Damn, this was going to be one hot episode of Coming Attractions. Much better than the last two in which he’d starred. Send the fluffers home, he thought to himself. This babe could keep him performing all night.

“Hey, baby. Keep some of that for later.” He said, laughing a little weakly and wondering when the filming was due to start.

There was sudden change in atmosphere. Guards straightened up, flunkies suddenly melted away, and a silence spread out from the door of the hanger. Panasia swallowed what she was going to say, gulping in dread at the awesome sight of the man entering the hanger. The Warlord had come.

Chapter 11 by Sooty - Eager Anticipations...

Soola turned thinking about Maldor's offer and went back to the command console of her ship. She examined the ships energy levels and found she had enough power left to get to her secret base on Vortex to aqquire a new warship and more troops. Soola pushed the pilot's body out of the swiveling piloting chair and slumped down in it, clipping herself in securely with one hand as she activated the controls for takeoff. The ship made a low rumbling noise as it's primary engines began to power up, and the ship slowly began to propell itself forward towards the direction of Vortex. Soola pressed the hyperdrive activation button to make the ship go faster as she thought about that Sith that stormed her ship.

She grinned to herself as she thought of all the torture she would put him through as punishment for wrecking her whole ship and killing every predator trooper she had onboard.

Once her ship had powered up, it made its way to Vortex at a rapid pace as Soola piloted swiftly through several meteor fields. Up ahead in the distance soola saw the green glowing that was radiating from the planet. Flying close to the planet, she typed in a transmission code that could be only be read by a specially configured predator receiver device. Soola heard a affirmative noise beep back at her through the transmission, "identifiy yourself trooper" came a strong male predator voice.

"It is General Soola you fool!, hurry and deactivate the shield so i can land." soola hissed in annoyance as she flew her ship low over what looked like a deserted clearing of land.

"Yes General," replied the male voice as Soola saw as the invisibilty sheilds were lowered pyramid shaped buildings were appearing as if from nowhere. She flew over to the nearest bay where she set the ship down, and Soola disembarked from her ship to be be greeted by several male predator troopers.

"Welcome back to base general," one said as she shoved them all aside and made her way to the commanders quarters.

"General Soola, it is good to see you again," Commander Ekans said as he made his way to her.

"How are things? Good I hope?" he asked taking her clawed hand in his as a sign of good friendship.

"Bah! You wouldn't believe who I just spoke with!" Soola exclaimed, ignoring the commanders question. "Maldor!" she said without waiting for a answer.

"Maldor? What does he want?"Tthe commander asked, flexing his claws at his dislike for the so called warlord.

"Apparently we are invited to a 'discussion' about his expanding his influence over the galaxy or whatever," Soola said "But thats not all......you remember the time when we went to Iridonia and destroyed that entire villiage?" she asked.

"Yeah..." commander ekans said wondering where this was going.

"And you remember little Khamier? He was there, and rescued some girl we had captured....thats how all my troops were killed," she asked grinning, watching the smirk on her commanders face "Anyways, he has grown up to be quite a fine specimen.....perfect for cross breeding." she cackled blushing slightly at herself for making such a statement.

Commander Ekans let go of Soola's claws and rubbed his chin "Indeed, the outstanding physical skills of a zabrak and a predator combined....why that could be the perfect biological killing machine." Commander Ekans said as he pictured what a zabrak X predator would look like. "Well General, do you have a female worker predator picked out or.....do you have something else in mind?" he said suspecting Soola wanted to volunteer herself for this little experiment.

Soola turned away from Commander Ekans still blushing under her helmet.

"I'll take that as a yes, you want to be the one to.....uh.." Commander Ekans said unable to repress a chuckle. "But first we must make preparations for your ex's so called discussion he wanted us to attend.....you still have some feelings for that traitor huh?" Commander Ekans asked curiously.

"Noooo.......what makes you say that?? absolutely not..." Soola said even blushing even more.

Commander Ekans smirked "There's no denying it...." he said, as he thought the whole cross breeding thing was just to make Maldor jealous, if, or more liley 'when' he found out about it.

Soola finally regained herself and turned back to the commander facing him. "I want you to organize 100 of the best predator Elite troopers and 300 basic infantry to come with me to Maldor's stronghold, then after all that we will begin the search for that zabrak" she said as she made her way to the exit of her commanders quarters "I will be in my own quarters, awaiting for the troops to be prepared. we don't have much time left to get to Maldor's place, by the way so I expect you to quickly gather up the troops and have them all ready to go in a new warship, Commander" Soola said as she left the room and proceeded to her own quarters where she sat on her sleep couch thinking about both Maldor and Khamier.

Commander Ekans went to the elite's barracks where the troops were waiting for commands. He quickly gave them all orders to board the newly built warship that had been constructed in the few previous weeks, when he had received a distress signal from Soola. He surveyed the troops as they obediently went into a military formation as they boarded the ship and went to their assigned quarters. Two pilots stepped up to escort the commander to his quarters right next door to Soolas on the ship. Before they could leave, Commander Ekans spoke to them "Tell the General all of her requested troops are here and are waiting for her to board." he said as they both bowed once and left heading for where Soola was. They paused to tap on her door and waited for a reply.

"Come in," Soola said.

"General, we are ready to go to warlord Maldor's stronghold. all the troops are ready." said one of the pilots.

"Good," Soola said, nodding and jogging to the ship's ramp as the pilots followed and went to the control room after her. She made herself comfortable in her specially designed massage chair as she ordered the pilots to get the ship started. The two pilots made their way to the piloting chairs as they sat and initiated the controls and set course for the warlords stronghold in the D'jestyv system.

"We should be there in no time, General" stated one pilot to Soola as they set the ship to hyperspeed.......

Chapter 12 by Darth Krispies - Isn’t It About Time Someone Got Laid?

The nav ‘puter obligingly spit out the coordinates for the D’jestyv system. Obi-Wan completed the calculations that would send the small, fast, well-armed ship to the little out-of-the-way spot in the galaxy that several Jedi masters agreed was the place to start searching for this missing heiress. It was a vile, lawless place who’s warlord often acted as a broker for slaves, drugs, and weapons smuggled out of the Republic and used to fund or conduct petty wars in the outer reaches. Masters Yoda, Windu, and Qui-Gon had bent all their considerable mental energy on searching for the missing Sith and coincidently the girl it was thought he had taken, and foreseen that there would be disturbing consequences for a great many people beyond D’jestyv as a result of the girl’s being there. The presence of the Sith made it too difficult to be any more specific, but that was enough for Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan to be dispatched.

Despite his outward calm, Obi-Wan seethed with an anger wholly inappropriate to a newly elevated Jedi Knight as he completed the jump to hyper-space, leaving the Naboo system behind. He would much rather have been alone on this mission, his first since completing the trials. His irritation increased sharply at the sound of Master Qui-Gon’s voice.

“I cannot help but sense that, despite your outward calm, you seethe inwardly with an anger wholly inappropriate to a newly elevated Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan. Is there something you wish to talk about?”

“No,” Obi-Wan muttered.

“I didn’t quite catch that,” Qui Gon said.

More clearly, Obi-Wan said “I said no, Master.”

“Come, my friend. Tell me what is bothering you. It is unseemly for a Jedi to pout.”

Obi-Wan was silent for another moment, but the habit of obedience was too strong to cast away so quickly. “All right, Master. You are correct. There is something.” He hesitated again.

“Yes,” prompted Qui-Gon.

“It’s just…well, you know Mazi and Dazi? The queen’s handmaidens? Well, I was supposed to, um, see them after I completed the trials, but they stood me up.” Obi-Wan stared hard at his Master. “When I saw them the next day, they said they were all tired out and had fallen asleep. They had forgotten all about meeting me.”

It seemed to Obi-Wan that Qui-Gon’s kind, patient smile had turned smug and complacent.

“Well, Obi-Wan, their duties probably keep them very busy.”

“Their duties consist of standing around all day and re-applying the Queen’s make-up periodically. How exhausting can that be? I think they were having it off with someone else.”

Qui-Gon looked down at his hands, picking at a cuticle, unable to conceal a slight smirk from one who knew him so well.

“Attractive young women can be fickle and thoughtless, my friend” he said.

Obi-wan flung himself out of his chair and punch the doorway. “Dammit, Qui-Gon. I can put up with you always stealing the girls, but do you have to be such a smug dick about it?” He slumped back down into his seat again. “I don’t understand. I’m young and gorgeous. Everybody agrees I have a great butt. They all want me at first, but then they all end up with you. What’s with that? How do you do it?”

Qui-Gon smiled beatifically and leaned over to clasp Obi-Wan’s shoulder.

“Ah, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for you to ask me that question, my young friend. Now that you have, I can finally reveal to you one of the great Jedi secret powers. It is one of the few disciplines the Jedi learned from the Sith back before our brotherhood was sundered. Its secrets can never be written down, but must be passed orally from master to student, and then only after the student has realized it exists and asked to be taught.” Qui-Gon stood. “At long last, I can teach you the ancient ways of Wang-Fu.”

Smiling, Qui-Gon left the tiny cockpit, gesturing for a suddenly flushed and bewildered Obi-Wan to follow him.

++++++++++++++++++++++++

Trembling, Panasia shrank away from the terrifying sight of the Warlord D’Viant, but in vain. Every being in the small pen was trying to hide behind every other being, and she found herself pushed to the front and directly under his hideous gaze. Her hand frantically grasped for Ackbar’s, but he had been dragged away by Darla who pushed her much smaller mate behind her in a noble but futile attempt at protection. The Warlord and his entourage approached the frightened group of soon-to-be victims of his taste for decadence.

Maldor D’Viant stood over two and a half meters in height and might once have been human, but organic and cybernetic grafts had added bulk, strength, speed, endurance, and (if rumor was to be believed) amazing procreative abilities to an already impressive physical specimen. It was said most of his vast armies were made up of his own offspring, the result of couplings with an array of females of various species, chosen for certain characteristics and bred to exhaustion. He was said to be unbeatable in single combat, a rumor Panasia could well believe, gazing hypnotized at his four additional arms (two ending in several razor-sharp claws, and the other two cybernetic constructs obviously designed to be used with the interchangeable weapon attachments clipped to the Warlord’s belt) and massive armored legs. His broad metal-scaled chest was exposed by the loose scarlet robe tossed negligently over his shoulders. A rather large gold medallion hung around his neck. The tiny part of Panasia’s mind not paralyzed by fear thought it dreadfully tasteless.

Panasia shut her beautiful violet eyes tightly in the manner of prey animals everywhere, hoping that what she couldn’t see wouldn’t see her. To her dismay, she heard the heavy footsteps halt directly in front of her. She felt a finger (oh please, let it be something as mundane as a finger) under her chin, tilting her face up. She opened her eyes and gazed into the multifaceted lens of the Warlord’s left eye.

“Here’s a pretty bauble, and, if I’m not mistaken, entirely unenhanced,” the Warlord intoned, popping a delicacy from a dish proffered by a fawning sycophant into his mouth. Panasia tried to ignore the delicacy’s tiny cry of “help me”, cut off by the crunch of sharp metal teeth.

An individual who looked like a well-dressed lizard turned inside –out gave a chitter of unpleasant laughter. “Doubtless she’ll provide you a few minutes of entertainment later on, Warlord.”

“No no, I’m totally off human women right now. It takes so many of them for me to get a decent evening’s entertainment and they make such appalling noises. And you wouldn’t believe the mess. The staff gets positively shirty about cleaning up the next day.” The warlord accepted a smoking drink from a buff Twi’lek youth in a gold mesh loincloth. “You have a bit of a fetish for them, don’t you General Fxkkzyk?”

To Panasia’s horror and disgust, the lizard thing began to quiver and drool. “Oh yes. Yes indeed my lord.” Its four peeled-looking eyestalks began to knot themselves together in lustful anticipation.

“Well then, after the broadcast, why don’t you take her. A little gift to one of my oldest associates.” The Warlord raked the other prisoners with a practiced eye, pausing when he spotted Darla. “Ah, a female Mon Calamari. I’ve always wanted one of those. I look forward to seeing your traditional post-mating dinner, my dear. When you’ve finished him off, perhaps you’d like to join me for a little dessert.” The Warlord’s entourage laughed heartily at this lame little joke, and obediently followed when he turned back to leave the hanger.

“Get them cleaned up and as dressed as they are going to be, Ethya,” he called over his shoulder to one of the guards. “Daz has the broadcast schedule, so find out who he wants ready first. The pay-per-view revenues are astronomical so we really oughtn’t disappoint anyone by starting late.”

The door slid shut behind the horrible, glittering group and everyone in the hanger relaxed perceptively.

“The warlord’s in an excellent mood today. He didn’t stop to kill anybody this time,” said one of the guards as they began to bustle about the prisoners, separating them for the wardrobe and makeup processors.

Panasia, numb with horror, let herself be herded away with the half-dozen other slaves with hair (none of it as nice as her own, of course). For the first time she began to doubt whether her fiancé would arrive to save her. The nick of time was getting awfully close. And when he did arrive, would he challenge the Warlord to single combat? Could he possibly prevail if he did?

With a start, Panasia realized that this was just exactly the sort of thing a proper heroine thought shortly before her one true love arrived to rescue her and kill the vile creature threatening her virtue. She was flooded with relief, and almost laughed out loud, but decided it was better to continue acting frightened so no one would suspect that he was on his way. It would be a terrible thing to put him in danger by acting in a suspicious manner.

++++++++++++++++++++++

With the Interceptor’s clock showing two hours to the D’Jestyv system and all other preparations complete, Maul decided he could indulge in a long, slow shower. Melissa still wore the same perfume she had years before (BitchSweat by Jorjyo) and it’s smell on his skin brought back unpleasant memories of her attempts to snare him all those years ago. She had had her uses, but she was old enough to be his mother. Not a real problem, except when she had started to try and “mother” him. Maul had definite views about who should be the spankee in a relationship, and it was certainly not him.

Still, one could hardly blame her for trying to get him back, he thought, opening a hidden cubby in his cabin and studying himself in the full-length mirror attached to the inside of the door. This was certainly one damn fine body. His master’s wishes and his own vanity guaranteed that he kept this body well-groomed and in the very best of shape. A person would have to insane not to want it.

Ever vigilant for the slightest flaw, he studied every centimeter of skin as he slowly stripped. Boots and belt were tossed aside carelessly, but not so carelessly as to pick up any unnecessary scuffmarks. Robe and shirt were peeled away from the magnificent gleaming black and red chest and thrown into the cleaner. He turned and twisted his head as far around as he could, checking his sleek, muscular back for unsightly scratches and bites, and was pleased to see that even the most recently acquired had faded almost to invisibility.

Satisfied that his upper body was as flawless as ever, Maul unfastened his pants, allowing the garment to slide sensuously off his narrow hips and flat belly, then over his buttocks to fall gracefully into a sable pool on the floor. He stepped out of them and bent to pick them up, watching the play of the muscles in his powerful thighs as he did so. Unfortunately his nose was assaulted by a fresh wave of Melissa and cut his examination short. Throwing the offending pants quickly into the cleaner, he headed for the fresher.

He stood in the pleasurable spray of water, hot as he could bear, and picked up the soap. It was inevitable that his mind should turn to the object of his current quest, the annoying yet extremely well-formed girl who had most recently shared the fresher with him. It was also perhaps inevitable then that the recollection of her firm, curvy body, surprising athleticism, and enthusiastic response to him, coupled with feel of his own hot soapy hands as they slid over his hard, perfect body should elicit the response from his ever-ready manhood.

The memory of his most recent partner faded with her scent. The smell of the soap recalled the blond (what was her name? Panasia –that was it), and so her excellent endowments were uppermost in Maul’s mind as he took erect, throbbing member in hand. His long, hard strokes were rapid and business-like, and it was but the work of a moment to bring himself to a gasping climax. After a few seconds of recovery, he soaped up again, then rinsed.

Dried and dressed, he began to apply himself to the problem of getting this troublesome girl away from the extremely well-guarded fortress of Warlord D’Viant. At least he promised himself the pleasure of taking the so-called invincible warlord out in a duel. And then there was the trip back with the girl and Ackbar. Since his master was unlikely to reward him for returning the two, Maul decided he would take a little payment from then. His mastery of Wang-fu would guarantee there were no complaints to his master afterwards.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“Hey! Hey guys! Look at this!” Jango was practically jumping up and down in his seat with excitement.

“Cheez, J, relax. Stop waving your arms around. This ship’s too damn small for that,” Jango snapped back.

“Sorry. But you gotta see this. I just picked this up!” Jango moved his chair back so Jango and Jango could see what was on the screen.

“’Coming Attractions’, huh? What’s the big deal about that? Its on all the time.” Jango sat down again, disgusted.

The three had been dutifully monitoring activity in the D’jestyv system for the last few hours. They had seen a lot of incoming ships, most of them armed to the teeth and transmitting false identification codes. All of this was carefully ecrypted and sent back to Coruscant at irregular intervals. Now Jango, who was monitoring transmissions outgoing from the planet, spotted something of vital importance.

“No, look again. See, they are broadcasting it from right here. And take a look at this,” Jango ran the commercial again and hit the freeze button. “See? Who does that remind you of?”

The other two clones stared at the luscious, frightened blond on the screen in front of them.

Jango said, “Hmm. I’m not sure. She looks kinda familiar.”

“Maybe the show’s a re-run.” Jango replied.

Jango made an impatient noise. “Look again, you guys. I think that’s the girl the boss wants back.”

“Naw, can’t be.”

“All those human girls look alike.”

“I’m telling you, that’s her.”

“Hmm. Could be, I guess.”

“Well, what if it is?”

Jango looked at the screen again. “Think about it. We bring her back, we are back in good with the boss. Maybe we’ll even get a reward.”

Jango shook his head. “Uh uh. Have you seen the kind of security in that place? We’d be dead in a minute.”

Jango looked up at him. “And what happens when the boss finds out she was here, and we were here, and we didn’t do nothing?”

The other two thought for a long minute. At last one said “Well, a quick death in battle sounds pretty good to me. How do you want to do this?”

Jango shook his head gloomily. “I say we just paint a target on our foreheads and walk in with guns drawn.”

Their thoughts were interrupted by the urgent beeping of a proximity detector. Jango swiveled back around and took a look at a scope.

“Holy carp! Look at this! There’s a whole fleet of something coming in!”

Jango dove into the pilot seat. “I’m pulling us back. Buckle in.”

“Too late. They’ve closed off every direction except…”

“Yeah. Except right down to the planet. Okay guys. Guess we’re going in.”

The Jangos looked at each other. “Oh well. Who wants to live forever, eh? Jingo said, putting the ship in motion.

The other two Jangos solemnly raised their hands.

Chapter 13 by Sooty

Soola sat slumped, snoozing in her massage chair as her mothership pulled up out front of Maldor's fortresses docking bay. The pilot scanned the area around the ship with the green flashing radar sensor checking to see if the docking bay was clear for landing. "There’s a small craft over there, perhaps it is another guest of the warlord's" the second pilot reported.

The other predator pilot sneered "Maybe whoever it is a spy, let the warlords forces take care of it.... whatever it is, its not our problem." he said dismissively. "land the ship over there and send a transmission to our other ships to land nearby"

The second pilot nodded "yes sir!" he responded automatically as he slowly piloted the ship down safely in the bay. The first predator pilot turned to second pilot "Go wake up the general, she would want to put on her 'costume' before seeing Mr D'Viant" he snickered as he activated the exit ramp unstrapped himself from the pilots chair leaving the ship and leaving the cockpit.

The second pilot walked cautiously up to the general, she was known to stab others who awoke her from a nap with her razor sharp wrist blades. He reached out to her armoured arm and prodded her gently, "General? are you awake? we have arrived at the warlord's fortress..." he said as Soola's hand suddenly shot up and grabbed his wrist. "grrrrrrr why didn't you tell me earlier? now I have hardly any time to get ready!!!" she roared at the flinching pilot tightening her grip on his wrist. She smirked seeing the frightened look on her pilots face. "You will help me get ready. Come with me" she said as she dragged her pilot down the steel hallways of her ship yelling to the watching troopers to disembark from the ship and go down to the docking bay.

Soola pulled the reluctant pilot into her room pushing him into her electro-therapy chair. The pilot gasped as mechanical straps appeared from the chair and held him down in place. "Stay there," she said walking over to a comms device and pressing a few buttons on the machine. "Doctor Zaaz, come to my quarters" Soola said.

She walked over to her bed and sat down waiting patiently. A few minutes later a predator wearing a white surgeons uniform walked briskly into Soola’s bedroom. "What is it general?...oh..." Dr. Zaaz said seeing the pilot trapped in the electro-therapy chair, he then turned to Soola "Have you been taking your medication my dear?" he asked in a concerned tone.

Soola looked at her armoured steel boots "Not exactly..not for 7 months.....but I don't really think that I need the medication anymore" she said before the Dr. could get another word in. The Dr. Zaaz, who was infact her uncle, had known Soola her whole life and had accompanied her on most of her missions, he had been frantic when he heard her last deployment of troops had been destroyed thinking she hadn't survived the attack.

He frowned and sat next to her on the bed "You must take your medication, you know the effects of not taking it...." Dr. Zaaz said scolding her.

"Yes I know all of that, my personality will change, probably become more vicious, I might feel like going on a killing spree, I might feel more lusty more than usual and I might get stronger physically.......and what the hell is wrong with all that?" Soola asked standing up in annoyance.

Dr. Zaaz stood too. "I am going to get you another prescription, I have some with me now." he reached into his pocket and took out a small container of medication. "Here, these should build up more female hormones in your blood stream....we don't want you acting like a male now do we?" he laughed nervously knowing Soola's 'girly' personality was probably long gone by now.

Soola grinned and shrugged "Who knows what could happen at Maldor’s fortress in the next few days? even you could get lucky Uncle Zaaz!" Soola laughed. She turned around and flipped a red flashing switch on the wall next to the electro-therapy chair, electrocuting the second pilot alive. Soola stood watching in amusement as smoke rose from the pilots body, and glowing green slime gurgled out of the pilots mouth.

"Did you really have to do that Soola? he was one of the five pilots onboard this ship left..." Dr. Zaaz said.

She ignored him "Now get out, I am going to get changed" she laughed "We can still talk using the comms device..." she said as she watched her uncle leave the room locking the door behind him for Soola. She walked over to her closet and took off her old armour she had been wearing since the attack on her other ship by that zabrak, she paced up and down naked in front of her closet pondering what to wear. Hmmm something accessible, for quickies she thought as she picked out a nice suit of armour that could be easily removed in case of an emergency. She turned on the comms device "So uncle, do you think there will be anyone besides Maldor that I will already know at that party or whatever he is throwing?" Soola asked, making conversation while she got dressed putting on plate armour over her legs, chest stomach and groin area.

Soola's uncle sat outside waiting for his niece to get ready, "You mean if that zabrak will be there?" he asked.

Soola was now looking through her helmets "Do you think I should wear a helmet or a mask?" she asked absent mindedly rummaging through more helmets. "Ah ha! I found the perfect one, you can come in now i have my newer armour on. Uncle Zaaz came back into the room. Soola held up a steel brand new looking helmet. "This is really nice, let me show you what I look like with it on..." she said as she went to the mirror and put the helmet over her head.

She turned her head from side to side, showing her uncle. He watched as the red slits for eyes seemed to glow a flashing red. "You look intimidating Soola" he said watching her put on steel wrist blades on each arm.

"A little lesson uncle, i know predatorial wrist blades were invented after your time......The most common weapon of all hunter weapons, the wrist blades are used by all predator hunters because of their usefulness in many situations...the blades are sharp enough to slice through human bone with ease and are almost unbreakable by conventional means." Soola said. "I must gather my other weapons....I love a good killing spree" she cackled as she took a nice selection of weapons from her shelves.

"I'm going to wait in the docking bay with the others..." Uncle Zaaz said and left the room.

"Suit yourself old man...." Soola smirked as she went back to her closet and grabbed a sinister looking black leather trench coat and black cowboy hat. She wore the coat over her armour and put the cowboy hat over her helmet, then walked over back to her weapons and picked up two Skedar-11z pistols, one of the most powerful built pistols in the universe. Soola grinned putting the guns in her holsters then left her quarters making her way to where the others where in the docking bay.

She trotted down the docking ramp her steel boots making a clinking noise with each step, looking around it looked like that all 200 of her troops had come to Maldor’s fortress. The first pilot greeted her as she walked over to the large group "general, glad to see your here already....we thought you would take forever" he said "so do you think we should wait around here for our host to greet us or just go in to the main hall?" he asked.

Soola laughed "As if i am going to wait out here in the docking bay for HIM..." she said as she strutted over to the entrance to the hall thinking of all the ways she could make the warlord jealous and wanting her. She turned around to the other predators "Well are ya's coming or not? we want to get the best alcohol before anyone else do we?" she continued on into the fortress followed by the small army of predators and up to Maldor’s tough mean looking guards.

"Tell Maldor that his ex-girlfriend and her army has arrived we have brought gifts with us......show them troopers." Soola commanded as 50 predator troopers came forward with 100 mega-gallons of Coruscantian ale and 60 crates of predator made green pretzels.

Soola stood with her clawed green hands on her hips. "Well are you going to move out of the way and let us in or what?" she shoved a packet of green pretzels into one of the guards hands and went in the fortress.

Just as she suspected there would be at her ex lovers place, were species of females of all sorts dancing in cages hanging from all around the fortress. Soola went over to the bar and got a drink and sat down on a stool. Shortly afterwards she was joined by her pilot and uncle. She spun around on the stool to her troops "Well don't expect me to entertain you lot all day, go have some fun and find out if old Maldory has a poker table set up somewhere," Soola said turning back to the bar.

"A pitcher of clean water," she ordered the barkeeper. She didn't want to get too 'out of it' before she had a chance to chat up some hot male or female for that matter. Soola drank all of the water before turning to go look for some entertainment.........

Chapter 14 by Darth Krispies - Jangos All The Way

As one, the Jangos braced themselves for the expected onslaught of energy beams from the approaching vessels. The tiny scout craft issued to them by the deeply irritated Sidious was completely unarmed and it’s shielding was laughable. Jango figured it would take just one glancing graze to blast them into smoking hamburger. Consequently, they were enormously surprised and relieved as the ships passed them without a single shot fired.

Jango slowly opened his eyes. “What happened?”

“Huh. They just went on by without even looking at us. Just like weren’t dangerous or anything,” Jango answered. “I think I’m insulted.”

“Hey, where are you going?” Jango said to Jango, who had risen gingerly and was making his way to the back of the ship.

“Um, I’ll just be a second. Gotta, um change my pants,” Jango said, his face turning an attractive shade of brick-red in embarrassment.

“Wimp,” muttered Jango, concentrating on keeping the ship on course. “I swear, someone split his zygote one too many times. Haploid-wit.”

Jango jumped as a beeping started on his communications console. He jammed on his headset and listened for a tense moment, then turned to Jango in a panic.

“Hey, I got a transmission coming in. They’re requesting a reply! What do I do?”

“What do they want?”

“They are asking who we’re with.”

Jango thought for a moment. It was tough having to be the brains for all three of them, and it was taking a hell of a lot of skill just keeping this wreck of a ship in one piece and on course.

“Tell them we’re with that show, uh, Coming Attractions. Yeah. Tell them we work with them. We’re, uh, interns.”

Jango smiled adoringly at his clone. For just a moment, he wished that he had been the smart one instead of the pretty one. “That’s some first class thinking, bro. With all these ships coming in, they can’t keep track of everyone, right?”

Jango came back in to the cabin and strapped himself in. “What’d I miss?”

Jango finished his transmission and turned to Jango, still grinning like an idiot. “We told ‘em we work with the show.” He paused a second and listened to the chattering com. “Hot puppies! They bought it! We have a landing clearence!” Jango could scarcely contain himself and was practically jumping up and down. He reached over and thumped Jango on the shoulder. “You’re a fappin’ genius, Jango.”

Jango grunted at him. “Just tell me where I’m going, idiot, and keep your hands to yourself if you want to keep them at all.”

Jango calmed down. “Sorry,” he said contritely. “That was just such a freakin’ great idea, and I still can’t believe it worked. They said they’d bring you in on a tractor….” He was abruptly cut off when the ship slammed to a bone-jarring halt. A few seconds later it jerked forward again and began a shuddering descent toward the planet.

“Tractor beam,” finished Jango.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Panasia glared with distaste at the spangly wisp of fabric the wardrobe droid proffered. She drew herself up in well-bred, icy disdain.

“And what, pray tell, am I supposed to do with that? Wear it, or paste it on an envelope? I hope you don’t imagine a lady like myself would be caught dead in such a, a garment, and I use the term loosely, like that. People might imagine I was a girl of easy virtue or something. I told you that this is what I would be willing to wear, and I’m not the sort to change my mind. Ever, about anything.” She thrust a piece of stiff paper at the droid and flounced back to her make-up chair.

Knowing that she was doomed (for the moment, at least) to be the sex-slave of an unspeakable monster, Panasia nonetheless was determined to maintain certain standards. She expected, no, make that demanded, to be clothed in a racy, tightly laced bodice that threatened to burst at any moment, skirts torn to the thigh, and just enough frothy lace to make it obvious to even the most casual observer that she was a real lady in distress, not some common run-of-the-mill wanton. That cheap little red thong rag the droid was insisting she wear would make her look like, well, lets says only the most obvious sort of person would wear something like that. Did they think she was some sort of Savage? What if Sister Hygenia, her old charm and etiquette teacher got wind of this? Panasia would never be able to look her in the eye again, at least not without a becoming blush.

The wardrobe droid sighed and turned away. It dropped the offending garment in a recycling chute and looked at the picture Panasia had given it. It was the cover of some sort of printed book, featuring a human male displaying unlikely pectoral and abdominal development through a shirt open his belt buckle, being clutched by a female who’s torso bore an astonishing resemblance to that of the sulky human the droid was instructed to costume. The background showed a sea-going vessel of some sort. This was the first human female the droid had ever costumed, and as it studied the picture, it began to see the potential in this manner of dress. It looked restrictive, yes, and quite uncomfortable. Something to appeal to the bondage crowd, certainly. It appeared to reveal more than it actually did, which could tantalize a certain type of human male. The droid went back to it’s drawing table and began redesigning the female’s costume to these new specifications, ignoring the ruckus at the make-up station.

Panasia grabbed the brush and hair lacquer from the stylist-droid. “No, no, not all teased up like that, you ninny! I have fabulous hair and you’re simply ruining it. It should flow and curl, like this. It should look all sensuous, not cheap and ratty. Don’t you know anything about romance? What would he think of me if he saw me looking like a cheap tart?” Panasia caught herself, mortified that she had blurted that out loud. She expected her technician/prince/ravisher/fiancé to arrive anytime between now and the last possible second to save her, and had allowed her thoughts to dwell on it too much. She stole a look at the sylist droid, hoping she had not caught the unguarded comment.

QT-69, her stylist, had indeed caught the cheap tart statement, but naturally assumed Panasia spoke of her scene partner. “Honey, believe me, when I finish with you, the last thing that man is going to be doing is thinking. It’ll be all he can do to remember to smile pretty for the cameras.”

Panasia frowned in pretty confusion for a moment before realizing who QT-69 was talking about. She laughed in relief. “Oh, yes, I see what you mean. Still, with the new costume I’m getting, the flowing hair will really work lots better, don’t you think? Wardrobe droid, bring that picture over so that my stylist can see it.”

QT-69 studied the picture skeptically. “Well, I suppose if you are really going to wear something like this, we might do better leaving the hair more free-flowing. Is the male human supposed to match? If so, I’d better get on to his hair. It looks like it will take a lot more work than yours. That’s going to play hob with my schedule. Sweetie, do you think you can manage your own waxing, or do you need me to do it?”

“Do you really think I need to? I mean, with the new costume, do you think it will matter?” Panasia asked.

“Yes, you really must. The viewers are already getting a sequence with hot Wookie-on-Ewok action. They don’t need a second one. Ooh, try this one sweetie, I’ve heard wonderful things about it. Ta. I’ll be back to check on you in a bit.” QT-69 sailed out the door, leaving a bright-red and furious Panasia holding the very latest in no-rash depilatories.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A harassed security goon glared at the three identically-uniformed troopers who had just emerged from a rickety ship that should have been condemned and junked before he was born. He had way too many people to process today and these puny, harmless looking clowns registered on his personal danger radar as a mere annoyance.

“All right, youse guys, who are you with? I got no time for funny stuff today, so lemme see your passes.”

Jango, the most aggressive of the three, took a step forward. “We’re with the show. Last minute replacements. They just told us to come here and didn’t say anything about needing a pass. Figures. Management’s the same all over.”

The other two Jangos nodded vigorously, their helmets bobbing up and down in a comical manner that made the security goon think how funny it would be to nail their feet to the dashboard of his hover car and watch them bobble all day. His tiny, piggy eyes narrowed at the one in front.

“Right, no passes. Okay wise guys, take them helmets off and let me get a look at youse. Hurry up, afore I decide to shoot you and look later.”

Jango hesitated a moment, counting the number of armed security goons in the hangar. The whole clone thing was supposed to be very hush-hush, and the boss would birth banthas if he found out they showed themselves this early in the game. But, the chances of ever seeing the boss were just about nil, so he just shrugged and took off his helmet. A second later the other two took theirs off as well.

The goon stared at them a second, then chuckled unpleasantly. “I get it. One of Daz’s novelty acts. Hur-hur. Okay, go through that door over there, down the corridor, turn left at the first door after the vomitorium, and find one of the PA’s to take you to Daz. Youse guys are cuttin’ it kind of fine. Show’s on in just a couple hours.”

Jango and Jango looked at each other in slight apprehension, but were grabbed and hustled out of the hangar by Jango before they could say anything.

“Not a word out of either of you. Just shut up and let me do the talking and we might get ourselves and the boss’s twinkie out of here,” Jango said in a hissing undertone to the others as he dragged them down the crowded corridor. “And keep your heads down. We aren’t really supposed to exist yet, remember? The fewer people see us the better.”

They stopped for a moment to get their bearings. Several doors with signs in a variety of languages branched off the corridor, but none of the writing was readable to the Jangos, educated hastily in only Basic. As they stood wondering which was the vomitorum, the were rudely shoved aside by two scantily-dressed slaves supporting an enormous being tottering between them toward one of the rooms. He was bright green, but Jango guessed that was not his natural color, a guess confirmed by the disgusting noises audible just as the door closed behind the three. The Jangos hurried on to the next door.

The door slid open as they arrived and they found themselves facing a nervous, overworked adolescent of indeterminate sex, its face ravaged by piercings and pimples, juggling a clipboard, three drinks, and the com device it was speaking into. The teen ignored them, pushing past in an obvious hurry. Jango grabbed one skinny arm, bringing the kid to a halt and sending the drinks flying.

“Aw crud! What’d you go and do that for, man? Now I gotta go get another three Burpsies for the grips and…”

Jango cut off the whine. “Can it, kid. We’re running late. We need to see, uh, Daz. Right now”

Jango leaned over. “Yeah, cause we’re in the show and it’s getting late.”

The kid glared at them. “Cutting it a little fine, huh guys? Okay, right. Through that door, through the green room, Daz is on set directing a run though. What are you, the new fluffers or something?”

Having no idea what the kid was talking about, the Jangos ignored him (her?) and made for the set, pushing their way through a crowd of technicians, assistants, toadies, and other assorted flotsam of the Mature Being Pleasure-Holo industry. After several moments of being ignored, bitched at, groped and eyeballed, they found themselves up against a pair of doors standing slightly ajar. Peeking though, the room beyond seemed to offer a dark, peaceful haven from the mad rush of the last few minutes.

“Come on, lets go in here and regroup for a minute,” Jango said.

The three entered cautiously, closing the door behind them, breathing a collective sigh of relief.

“LIGHTS! I NEED LIGHTS HERE, YOU SILLY LIGHTING-PERSONS!"

The raucous screeching made them jump and bring up their weapons, but the blinding glare that erupted around them made it impossible to risk shooting. As they stood blinking helplessly, the owner of the horrible voice descended upon them with terrifying swiftness.

“OOH, LAMBIKINS! YOU THREE ADORABLE LITTLE SOLDIERS MUST HAVE JUST DROPPED DOWN FROM HEAVEN AND INTO MY DREAMS! TELL ME YOU’RE MY REPLACEMENT OPENING ACT, AND I SWEAR YOU CAN SIMPLY HAVE YOUR WAY WITH ME. AFTER THE SHOW’S OVER, OF COURSE!”

Belatedly, Jango realized who everyone had been referring to as Daz. Razzldaz the Hutt (Daz to his friends, and we’re really all such good friends in the biz, kiss kiss darling) was a vision in lavender tulle and blue eyeshadow. Enormous even by Hutt standards, he appeared an unstoppable force as he humped his grotesque, exotically painted, glittery bulk toward the troopers with astounding speed, coming to a shuddering halt mere inches from their frozen forms.

Like all Hutts, Razzldaz had started his career in petty crime, specializing early in fixing back-water system beauty pageants. His chance at the big time came when he won the fast-failing Coming Attractions franchise off the crooked promoter of the Miss Fflinx Corporation All-Natural Mud-Bathing Beauty Products Beauty Contest on Twitj (where it was later discovered by an intrepid reporter that the winner, in violation of the rules, had artificial tusk implants and a tucked-and-lifted brood-pouch). Daz had always fancied himself an impresario, and after convincing the Warlord of his abilities by creating a line of specialty holos just for him, Daz was finally able to put his grubby gangster past behind him and develop the artistic vision that had taken a cheap series of raunchy flickering holos sold in back alleys by sweaty beings in grubby coats and turned it into the most profitable and glossy hi-tech sex show in the galaxy.

At the moment, all his creative force was turned on the Jangos, who shrank together under the weight of Daz’s glee. The monster clasped his pudgy, manicured hand together and gazed at them with a hunger that was not entirely professional.

Through the cloud of Eau de Sinne that enveloped the Hutt, Jango managed a sort of ghastly attempt at a smile and some sort of answer. “Yeah, that’s us. We’re your opening act. We’re the, um,” Jango looked at Jango and Jango, vaguely aware that entertainers should have a name but at a loss to come up with one.

“NEVER MIND WHAT YOU CALLED YOURSELVES IN THE PAST, SWEETUMS. I’LL THINK OF SOMETHING FABULOUS FOR YOU. BUT DEARIES, THOSE COSTUMES. THEY MIGHT PLAY IN THE PROVINCES, BUT THIS IS THE BIG TIME. THEY SIMPLY MUST GO. Daz bellowed over his shoulder. “BETTI! BETTI DARLING, COME TAKE CHARGE OF THESE DELICIOUS BOYS’ WARDROBE PERSONALLY, WOULD YOU?”

Betti, a sweet grandmotherly lady with white hair and pink apple cheeks toddled over at Daz’s call and squinted myopically at the Jangos through her glasses, smiling and nodding at them. The Jangos had been vat-raised without benefit of female relatives, but some shred of race memory made them feel deeply uncomfortable by Betti’s kindly regard. They lacked the metaphor to describe the feeling, but it was similar to that felt by teenage boys having a wank behind the shed upon being by an elderly nun. As they felt themselves start to blush, Betti gave them a nod and an amazingly lewd wink.

Daz was giving Betti instructions, “ KEEP, OH, SAY THE ARM, SHOULDER AND CALF ARMOR, BUT DO AWAY WITH MOST OF THE REST. AND HURRY, WE’VE SIMPLY NO TIME AT ALL. YOU LADS WILL HAVE TO DO WITHOUT A REHEARSAL, I’M AFRAID. WE’LL HAVE OODLES OF CAMERAS ON YOU, SO DON’T WORRY ABOUT ANY OF YOUR BEST BITS GETTING HIDDEN. JUST BE YOUR OWN LOVELY SELVES AND I’LL SEE YOUR CAREERS GET A HEATLY BOOST.” Daz started to rush away, but turned back for a moment. “OH, AND BOYS? DON’T MAKE ANY PLANS FOR LATER. I’M CERTAIN WE’LL HAVE…CAREER MATTERS TO DISCUSS”

The monstrous Hutt blew them a smacking kiss and slithered off, yelling at orders at various flunkies.

Betti smiled up at the stunned Jangos. “Well, lets get you boys into costume, shall we? Or out of costume, as the case may be.”

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Meanwhile, a couple klicks from the main fortress buildings at an out-of-the way terminal in a deserted hangar shut down for repairs, Qui-Gon Jinn waited with imperturbable Jedi calm for the information he had hacked out of the Warlord’s party planner’s computer to finish downloading into the powerful palm-sized snoop computer lent to him by Master Q’yu for this mission. In a moment he would have all of the floorplans, security arrangements, and entertainment schedules, as well as a list of the Warlord’s “guests”. He was certain to discover a way to find the girl and bring her out safely. The Force, which had guided him to this safe and secluded place would not fail him now.

The Force and Qui-Gon’s own highly developed senses in fact saved him an instant later. Before his conscious mind was aware of what his body was doing, Qui-Gon sprang to one side, turned, and brought his lightsaber up, deflecting what should have been a killing blow delivered by an all-too familiar figure wielding a deadly crimson saber of it’s own.

Maul stepped back, eyes narrowed, stance aggressive, hatred and contempt seething from every pore. Qui-Gon stood ready and outwardly impassive, but made no move to engage the Sith.

“Why are you here, Jedi?” Maul spat. “There are more convenient times and places to meet if you are so anxious to die.”

A quiet beep from the hand-held hacker sitting on the terminal let Qui-Gon know that he had the information he needed. It also caught Maul’s attention, and without looking away from Qui-Gon he aimed a destructive slash at it, taking off a corner of the terminal instead when the Jedi’s saber parried the shot.

“If I’m not mistaken, we are here for a common purpose, and that little device you almost destroyed can help us achieve our mutual goal,” said Qui-Gon quietly and a little cautiously.

“What do you mean, ‘us’, Jedi. There is no us. There’s only me with my task, and you with your death wish. If you need a partner, you should have brought your padawan.” Maul paused, sensing a sudden flash of discomfort from Qui-Gon and swayed forward slightly. “Ah yes,your padawan. Whatever has become of him?”

Qui-Gon drew back slightly, becoming opaque once again to the prying mind of his enemy. “My apprentice is no concern of yours, Sith. You deal only with me this time.”

Suspicious, Maul took a few steps back and risked a glance behind at the Jedi’s ship. There was no sign of anyone else, but now he began to be certain that he felt the presence of another person somewhere nearby. Intensely as he desired to finish his aborted duel with these pestering Jedi, the pressing need to get on with finding his master’s thrice-damned doxy before she became fap-fodder for millions of spotty, sweaty males galaxy-wide and therefore unfit marriage material for a Chancellor was too strong. Cursing silently, he stood for a moment in uncharacteristic indecision.

Feeling the time slipping away as well, Qui-Gon swiftly pocketed the hacker then parried the attack Maul launched in response to his action. A rapid series of exchanges, and then two stopped for an instant, saber hissing and sputtering against saber, their noses scarcely six inches apart. They fought for a moment with their minds alone, locked in a battle of wills, and so intense was their concentration that both failed to see Obi-Wan before he was upon them, throwing his arms around their necks.

“Hey you guys, is this a private game or can anyone play?” Obi-Wan hugged their necks closer and grinned blearily at Maul. “Whoa, Qui, where’d you find the cute one?”

Maul attempted pulled away but the wobbly Obi-Wan fell against him and clung like a leach.

“Aw, c’mon, don’t be like that. You know you want it.” Maul tried to avoid Obi-Wan the sloppy kiss Obi-Wan aimed at his cheek ended up with an earful of tongue instead. The severely squicked-out Sith shoved the Jedi violently aside, practically throwing him into Qui-Gon, and scrubbed his insulted ear with a corner of his cloak.

“Jedi dog!” he snarled. “What kind of a pervert are you?”

Obi-Wan waggled his eyebrows. “Dunno. What kind would you like?” He lunged forward again but was caught and held by Qui-Gon, who was beginning to look a trifle out of sorts. He leaned down and whispered something to Obi-Wan that caused him to stop his assault attempts, then leaned his apprentice up against the terminal where he swayed and smiled.

“Sorry about that. Obi-Wan isn’t exactly himself right now. He was supposed to stay in the ship. Please just ignore him, he won’t be a bother anymore.” Qui-Gon moved to interpose his tall form between Maul and Obi-Wan, who had started singing “All You Need is Love” in a light, pleasing tenor.

Maul glared at Qui-Gon. “What in hell’s wrong with him? A few days ago he couldn’t wait to kill something, now he’s acting like he’s – “ Maul stopped, stared hard at Qui-Gon, then at Obi-Wan, then back to Qui-Gon, accusingly. “He’s been Fu’d! You brought a Wang-Fu’d apprentice to a deadly serious confrontation! What the hell kind of idiot Fu’s his apprentice then throws him into a fight?” He stopped and stared again at Obi-Wan. “Wow. He’s really Fu’d-up. What did you do to him?”

Chagrinned at Maul’s perceptiveness, Qui-Gon became defensive. “I didn’t know he was going to go off this far. It’s just, well, you know how it is. He finally figured out something was up, we got to talking about Wang Fu, there were hours to fill, space is lonely, you know the story. So I thought there’d be no harm in showing him a few basic techniques. Poor Obi-Wan, he’s always been a fast learner, and so I showed him one or two more advanced moves and the next thing you know, even ice-cold showers and nude pictures of Master Yoda won’t snap him out of it. He’s been like this for two hours now.”

Maul gave a low whistle. “Two hours? Worst case I ever had, I was still back in about 20 minutes.”

Qui-Gon nodded unhappily. “I was never out of it for more than half an hour, even when I was 16.”

Maul wrestled for a moment with his curiosity, but lost. “So, Jedi, what technique was it that put him over the edge? Was it the Dance of the Elegant Serpent? Or the Hammer of the Gods? ”

Qui-Gon shrugged modestly. “A little something I came up with myself. I call it the Celestial Sit-n-Spin. Not canon yet, I’m afraid. I should have waited until Master Windu, the Grand Master of Jedi Wang-Fu had finished testing it out to introduce it to a student.”

Maul looked thoughtful. “Hmm. It’s been thousands of years since a new form was added to the Sith school. I don’t suppose you’d care to reveal this technique.”

Qui-Gon’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “Why, I’m shocked! Flattered, mind you, but quite surprised. I suppose once this girl has been rescued and returned to her keepers, we could go someplace private for an hour or so.”

Maul recoiled in revulsion. “I meant, write it out. And include diagrams. Sheesh, you Jedi. I thought the Sith were supposed to be the bad ones, but you guys take the cake. My personal kinks do not include Jedi of any sort. But you remind me, there is still a task be done and little time.”

“Exactly the point I was going to make,” Qui-Gon said. “We are both here to rescue this heiress and defuse this situation the Warlord D’Viant is stirring. I propose we join forces long enough to achieve this goal. Afterwards we’ll resume the natural animosity traditional between Jedi and Sith. I have a plan…”

“I need no weenie Jedi plans” Maul sneered. “I happen have a plan of my own.”

Qui-Gon looked politely attentive. “And that is?”

“Find out where everyone is, run into the room, kill everyone in sight, grab the girl, and leave.” Maul crossed his arms and looked at Qui-Gon triumphantly.

“Ah. A good plan, as far as it goes. However, I happen to have a floorplan I’ve downloaded, as well as a guest list and schedule of events. That would save you some time finding the room and deciding who to kill first.” Qui-Gon displayed his handy hacker and waited. He was ready when Maul predictably brought his lightsaber to bear, parrying again with his own weapon and dancing backwards, the computer held teasingly out of Maul’s reach.

After a couple half-hearted attempts to cut off the Jedi’s arm, Maul stopped switched off his lightsaber. He paced restlessly for a few seconds before stopping to glare malevolently at Qui-Gon.

“All right. Fine. But I take the girl in my ship.”

Qui-Gon shook his head. “Not good enough. How about we take her to a neutral location. She’s saved, but she goes neither to you or back to Naboo.”

“What neutral place did you have in mind?” Maul asked suspiciously.

Qui-Gon made a show of thinking hard. “Well, how about, hmm. What would you say to delivering her to the Chancellor on Coruscant? He may technically be from Naboo, but he’s professionally neutral now.”

Hardly able to believe what he was hearing, Maul made a great show of reluctance. “Chancellor? I don’t know. Do you really think…? No. Well, all right.” He growled a couple times for effect. “But don’t think this means we are allies, Jedi. If you get in my way here, or if you try to double-cross me, your death will be slow and terrible instead of quick and noble, I promise you.”

“But if you try to double-cross me, young Sith…” Qui-Gon started to say.

Maul cut him off. “If I try to double-cross you, Jedi, that’s just par for the course. Now about my plan…”

Chapter 15 - After that, nothing will be like before By Erik

“No! Nononononon, no!” Jango shook his head that furiously, the spit flew from his mouth.

“Ch’mon, you’re not the worst looking of our breeding bunch,” made the other Jango jovially while trying to grab the crucial piece of fabric from Jango.

“Don’t dare to ruin everything! T’s an order!” thundered the third Jango fists in his sides.

The impact of this stance was diminished by the lack of armour, or, to be more precise, the lack of any decent clothing at all and so, Jango far from being impressed uttered another supply: “You said we should play low and not parade in public!”

But since he used his hands to underline the plea with a speaking gesture, Jango succeeded in snatching and we’ll never learn what Jango-with-arms-akimbo feared to become ruined… “By the dusty roads of Kamino!!!” he gasped.

“Is it what I think I see?” the other one sighed, pressing unconsciously his hands with the prey against his breast in an almost praying demeanour.

Betti adjusted her glasses.

Time froze on the scene until it was shattered to shards by the blare of a speaker: “Opening act! Opening act, ready in five minutes!”

“Okay, duty is calling. Put on your helmets guys. But you,” Jango did send again Jango a fierce glare, “you’ll explain THAT later.” With a curt salute he made for the door, his comrades in tow: “Ma’am, just tell us which way.”

“Ack, you’re joking,” shook Betty a finger giggling a nice old-woman giggle, “you’re little bad boys, are you not? You know, that I know, that you know, that we use Mandalorian time in the business. Which means you have 15 standard minutes from now on.” She clapped her hands in a manner as if to agitate a flock of unwillingly toddlers: “Plenty time for waxing. But,” and with that she padded on of the Jangos backside, “there is not much to do. You’re smooth like little babies, are you not?”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Meanwhile Panasia was already over the peak of this experience the Jangos were about to undergo. Or, to be more correct, she had taken the obstacle by detour.

Figuring out, a warderobe droid would not be able to distinguish depilated skin from not depilated, because it was programmed to stitch costumes and not to remove body hair, she let vanish the wax in the cushions of her seat like lice in a Wampa’s fur. Thanks to sister Manualia for teaching her such handy manipulations! It had often helped to save credits in beauty shops she mused while moving discretely to and fro over the unceremoniously buried depilatory.

A knocking at the door indicated the return of the stylist-droid – at least, that was, what Panasia supposed, because she felt she was in need of a second opinion regarding her earrings – would creoles be too much?

The electronic tailor padded over and opened – but the figure looming on the threshold was not the hairstylist! It was the lizard-like General from the Warlords entourage which she was promised to!! His fangs let go not word, but the eyes spoke volumes as they focused on her.

Apparently as unwillingly as Panasia to turn more than one page of those volumes – which made Panasia almost reconsider her despise of its design skills – the droid, barring the entrance, yelled: “Not before the show! Lord D’Viant…”

“May Maldor grace his own knee,” mumbled the scalded lover of human beauty good-naturedly while pointing its eyestalks still in Panasia’s direction. He not even did take its stare from her when sending the droid with a single shove of his left claw crushing at the wall.

Panasia shrieked and jumped from her seat, or, to be correct, she tried to. When she plopped awkwardly back, it dawned on her, even wealthy porn-producing Warlords have to make amends. The depilatory wax was not denier cry. It had silently spread all over the cushion and was now taking hold of her with sticky fingers.

Tears of fear filled her beautiful violet eyes (If only the mascara was not a cheap non-waterproof sort!) as she faced her approaching doom. Unconsciously she clasped the armrests of her chair (That would ruin the nail polish!). Its fool breath propelled her mind toward the border of nausea, where it cried out loud for her rescuer. Her body jerked back.

That motion however let snap-in the snap-out mechanism of the chair (“Balanced sitting for a balanced live!”). Panasia, still glued to her seat, tumbled over. One of her feet entangled with General Fxkkzyk’s crotch and the rules of physic did their work – with an “ahhhh” the lizard-man flew over her, with an “umpf” he impacted at the wall were he remained speech- and motionless.

Freeing herself violently (not without leaving a good amount of the dressing gown back) Panasia stormed blindly out of the room. She fled down several hallways, rounding corners at random, until she bumped into an elevator’s door. Leaning against the cool, soothing metal, she closed her eyes and slumped exhausted (yet graceful) on her knees. This was the third time when she doubted her fiancé would rescue her. She started to count until ten…

As after a decent time still no strong arm lifted her up, no firm steps heralded his appearance doubt reared its ugly head. Still it could be her dark prince was hampered by hordes of enemies – or worse – captured like she was before. But, whatever it was - treason or tragic – she had to find out or her heart would find no rest anymore. Resolute Panasia ignored her wobbly knees and stand up.

But only few steps back in her tracks and her ears caught the lovesick yelling of the General. Flustered by the calls Panasia turned to the elevator and hammered at the keyboard. After a long painful minute the door sprung open.

“Hello, kid.” The blonde male who had admired at two occasions made an inviting gesture.

Without a second thought Panasia accepted. The doors closed and suddenly she was engulfed by peaceful silence. To be correct: an ear caressing silence and his adoring gazes. He looked exactly like from the cover of the book left at the now orphaned dressing-table.

But it was not the (almost) perfect outer features of her vis-à-vis which let Panasia weight her opportunities carefully. No, the fact the real hero was making itself still scarce lead her to the conclusion she had to stay with the side-dishes. Breathing: “Thank you,” Panasia strokes back her hair.

His reaction was more then satisfying. He drank in her sight in rapture… But than the male’s forehead furred: “What the f…? They have changed your costume without noticing me!” He slammed his fist at the metal wall of the pod. “Man, do I hate this! You’re a son of a b* Daz!!” Glaring now at her he still looked like sprung from a book’s cover, but not the sort she would consider worth purchasing.

“But no! I didn’t,” tried Panasia to remove the misunderstanding, “I was chased by a lizard.”

The male blinked several times, as if not believing, but eventually he smacked his lips empathically: “Groupies. I know how that runs.” Convinced by his own explanation he put on his smile again: “Forget about the costume, we’ll get out of it in less then two minutes anyway. Mind a little rehearsal?” Saying so, he pressed her against the wall and started to acquaint his tongue with her mouth. “By the way, my name is Hans,” inserted he between two ragged gasps.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“… that is the plan,” finished Maul, signalling clearly with his tone neither comments nor addendums were welcome.

“Okay,” conceded Qui Gon amiably.

“Fine, let’s get started. First, lock your apprentice away. Best would be in a fridge,” Maul sneered, “If your ascetic Jedi are in possession of such a device.”

“I’d rather like to have him under my eyes, but if you insist,” shrugged Qui Gon. “Padawan, please come over.”

Nothing.

“Obi Wan?”

Still nothing.

“Obi Wan Kenobi!”

“He is gone,” snarled the Sith, reaching out in the Force to get a trace of the stray padawan. The Jedi master at his side did the same.

A moment later both men looked at each other, nodding in unison.

“He has turned left,” hissed Maul and whirled toward an exit which would guide to the said direction. ”No,” responded Qui Gon grabbing a handful of the Sith’s robes to drag him into the contrary direction, “the other left.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A faint melody – “Spanish Harlem” ceased and a levelled voice said: “Wrong.” Ice-cold it ran down Hans’ spine. “T-o-t-a-l-l-y wrong.” The tiny hair on the nape of his neck tingled in anticipation of something unspeakable monstrous. Then he was ordinarily pushed aside by an ordinary hand, which came out to belong to an ordinary young man in the austere dress of a Jedi.

“You must do it with passion,” the young Jedi pontificated friendly and hesitated no second to illustrate theory with a practical example.

There Hans noticed the first time, the lift had stopped and the door had opened.

Now that explained where thy guy had come from, but not why – or to be more exact: why a Jedi was ploughing the field he was meant to work on. And this one was a Jedi, there left no room for doubt, because the bloke had the certain aura only the Force provides. (At this point I should clarify something: The “Presence in the Force” is not a matter of low hygienic standards! Even if it’s true that in some places, where the Jedi have to stay during their peacekeeping tasks, room service is beyond hope.)

Following his train of thoughts further while he watched speechless the attack the young one rode on the female without stopping for taking breath Hans began to count 1 and 1 together: His partner had changed costume without telling him, his act had been changed without telling him, plus his replacement was something extraordinary like a Jedi. That could only read this way: Daz was cheating him. Daz was considering him out and over. Daz was dealing him like he was over the top of his carrier!

But not he and not now! He would have a straight word with Daz about that – but first with this replacement-boy. Hans got the Jedi rough by his shoulder: “Hey, dude..!”

Yet before the two could settle the issue like real men do, three equal looking men with equal helmets but otherwise in an equal stated of bareness did run them over.

Panasia suddenly freed of both of her besiegers took a deep breath and screamed. With the second breath her gaze did fall on one of the newcomers and she started to scream again.

“This old lady was tricky like the boss! I’m glad you manoeuvred her out Jango,” another one of them sighed.

“Where’ the hangars?!” the first started fingering the keypad until the doors jammed and the vehicle started climbing up.

“You’re dimwit, Jango! They’re downstairs!!” and the third maltreated the keypad - the lift changed direction.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

“You could leave my hand alone,” growled Darth Maul.

“Uuups! I’m sorry… but perhaps you find it easier with hand to follow me,” smiled Qui Gon down on the Sith.

“Perhaps you’ll find it hard to lead without head,” responded Maul challenging.

“As you wish,” agreed the Jedi lightly and turned to resume his run thought the labyrinthine corridors. From time to time he checked the display of his hacker, when and then he rounded a corner. Eventually he passed a door.

“Oh, no,” gnashed the Sith trying to keep up with the long legged Jedi master, “that isn’t the…”

“Undress! UnDRESS!! UNDRESS!”

Sith and Jedi, caught in the noise and a glaring spot light, froze to the point like a Toydarian over a pile of credits. The Jedi reached stealthily for the hand of the Sith. “Bane’s bones, stick it to you,” hissed Maul.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Soola had idly roamed the station (two or three beheaded Yawas not counted as well as a few swilled drinks). She had acknowledged the seasoned hand of her old lover in every branch of this enterprise and oddly it had fuelled her with annoyance. Those… those things, all those pretty things! Achieved without her at his side... And he had invited her, invited her without an explanation… Without even taking notice of her now, after she had entered his realm! That could only mean one thing: DUPE HER.

Sending a threatening growl to the ceiling, her gaze fell on a screen high on the wall. It was thought to display the “Coming Attractions” within the rooms of the station and entertain the VIP visitors in presence.

There were two figures standing hand in hand in the spotlight, than awkwardly stumbling away.

“Little Khameir,” Soola laughed with a raw, rasping voice, not believing what she was seeing. She get hold of someone passing her – a unisex thing dropping a makeshift tablet with drinks – “Hey you, where is the room this screen displays.”

“Again!” her surprise-guide wailed, “can you imagine how hard it was to get new Burpsies?”

Soola in response just lifted the slim frame of the kid up.

“Can, really can you?” The voice of the unisex thing pitched high – Soola, still mute, extended a wristblade and let play the light on it.

“D-d-down there...”

Soola had finally what she wanted and let the kid go. She didn’t care to kill; that could be done later, when her troops where cleaning up that place.

Cutting a corner, the Predator bumped into a Hutt of enormous size. “Shift, fatty,” she said casually.

“Where is my opening act?” The Hutt wrung its hand, unconscious of barring her way.

In this moment Soola had an idea which changed her entire live – realising that creature must be one of the minions of her old love she growled: “Eat dust.”

That made Daz – because there is only one Hutt in this and the chapter before – closing his mouth with a snapping-sound. He unclasped his hands and turned his glassy eyes on the source of such disgusting news. “Could you please repeat that, dear?”

“E-a-t d-u-s-t,” Soola complied courteously with his bidding.

Now, even without en detail knowledge about the whole colourful picture of Huttense mafia, you will understand that Daz had to assume Soola was challenging him with an infringement of his claim. And he did what any brave Hutt would do in such a case, yet, with a little extra, because he was an educated one - with PDA and stuff. He throws himself at his supposed adversary in a shockingly demonstration of the first law of mechanics: Where one body is, no second one can exist.

A crack, a crumple … and with a satisfied sigh Daz moved a last time his masses to and fro (vaguely akin to Panasia’s wax-incident, but not as nearly as graceful). Than he slithered aside in order to continue his search for the three lost sweet soldiers.

However, in this crucial hour Lord D’Viant appeared on the stage of that dire deed. Mute he regarded the flat remains of what had once been a well-build Predatoress. After a long moment of contemplation the Warlord turned his eyes away from the dreadful sight “Was that you, Daz?” he asked in a silent, ominous tone.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Sith and Jedi, or, to be correct, Jedi, followed in a short but remarkable distance by a Sith, did fall out of a door just to find themselves in front of what looked like goulash for a Death Star’s complete crew fashionably garnished with some violet frills and a side-dish of neatly arranged crepe predatór. At the wall opposite the battleground a violently shivering adolescent person leaned, clasping an clipboard while some puddles of liquor and glass-shards were boring themselves stiff at its ankles.

“So-o-ola,” growled Maul the twin-suns of his eyes sparkling with fury, “my prey she was!”

“Ta, ta. Cloudy the future always is, my dear,” chided Qui Gon impatiently, “she… err… he… err… it had certainly as good reason for revenge as you had. Forget about old issues and hurry, I feel our target is CLOSE.” The Jedi master squished himself through between corpses and wall and went on winged feet the hallway down.

“Is HERE!” corrected Maul as a next to him the door of an lift opened and revealed three already revealed trooper, a porn star, an padawan and a deranged Panasia.

Recognising him and flinging herself in his arms was one and the same thing for our lovely heroine. However, in her rush she kicked Hans. Stumbling he left the lift, only to collapse on the floor as he got a glimpse of the residues of his employer and the Predator.

Maul, holding Panasia with one arm, pushed with a sneer the other lift-travellers back and force-smashed the keypad: “Take that, idiots!” The pod started with gapping doors slowly to descent while its inhabitants scrambled to get on their feet.

That commotion didn’t fail to educate Qui Gon on his misinterpretation of the Willy of the Force. He returned. But too late!

“Master, olá, master!” waved Obi Wan out of a pile of naked limbs as he spotted Qui Gon. Then lift disappeared completely and some noise indicated it put on velocity really fast. The Jedi master moaned: “Oh, you over-hurried Sith! Take care of yourself padawan,” he yelled down the dark tube, “I’m sure you’ll get through,” and did run after Maul.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It got down, down, down for a little eternity. The young Jedi did test with a jump from time to time if they would have reached a velocity that high it would sublime the gravity, but failed to raise interest in such experiments in his mates in fate. Also they denied any explanation for THAT, what did distinguish one of them from the other two.

So Obi Wan resumed with his experiments in physics - but with waning interest. And when he eventually thought the ride was about to turning to a boring one it became dark and the lift halted with a shrieking.

The door opened.

A soft yet blending light poured in.

And in the aura a figure in white armour stand.

“Come on, baby light my fire!” intoned Obi Wan festively. A backhand of the with knight rescuer did knock him out.

Now the rescuer gestured the three Jangos to leave their gaol. The troopers however did move as much as a Coruscantian skyscraper in storm. They just stared round-eyed and open-mouthed. The white-armoured removed his helmet and Senator Palpatine’s anger-redden face appeared: “Get out now or you will never walk again. And tell me where SHE is!”

“Ah, um… Jedi have taken her. One of them was master Jinn.” The simplest of the Jangos spluttered.

“She is taken?! By a… by WHAT?! Qui Gon Jinn?” the senator gasped, a trembling hand searching blindly for support at the doorframe.

“Yes, Sir. Jedi. Flourishing robes and always a bit arrogant toward the Republic’s troops. Two took her way, Sir. The third one you did sap, Sir. A nice blow I’d like to say, if I’m allowed to, Sir.” The nicest of the Jangos saluted.

“You are not,” uttered Palpatine between his teeth.

“Shall we than continue with the extinction of the unimportant Warlord, Sir?” the bravest of the Jangos stepped in.

“Continue?” the senator snorted, but than he pulled a face like listening something very faint, very distant and suddenly he grinned. “Perhaps this development of the situation is not bad at all… Forget about D’Viant. We fly home. At least you have not been revealed. And, “he gestured casually at the one of the Jangos who tried to hide himself behind his clone-brothers, “on the way back you can tell me where you got THIS from.”

Another gesture by the senator and the lift started again to get down, now with only one inhabitant.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As the vehicle reached the bottom the anti-grav cushions clicked in and soothed the impact. Obi Wan opened his eyes, yearned heartily. “Deeper and deeper,” he hummed smiling and left the elevator to climb on a wing of the Jedi plane. A commotion in a corner of the hangar piqued his interest. He left his outlook.

Maul guiding a breathless Panasia followed by an equal breathless Jedi pealed from the dark. The Sith stormed into his ship, and so was resolved to do the Jedi, but Obi Wan stopped his master by jumping in his arms. “I’ve missed you.”

“Ta, ta! I’m back. Everything is fine now,” padded Qui Gon his padawan’s shoulder and dragged him unceremoniously toward the closing hatch of the Sith-ship.

“Shall I tell you a secret? There are clones amongst the troopers and one has a…” the rest he whispered into his master’s ear, who looked suddenly thunderstruck and missed several precious seconds of boarding time.

“Peculiar,” Qui Gon said after recovered from the shock, “let’s get in and fly home as fast as we can.” With that he proceeded climbing into the Interceptors belly.

Obi Wan tried to stop him: “Why we don’t take our own ship?!”

“Why?” smiled the Jedi master, “because I don’t trust Senator Palpatine's man for the dirty work.” With that he rolled – his padawan tightly in grip – between the almost closed iron jaws of the porthole into the ship which started to hum – Maul had hit the starter-key.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Finally composed enough to move a limb or two the unisex kid walked over to the unconscious porn start – painstakingly avoiding the sight of the corpses. So it didn’t notice the appearance of another person on the stage.

When a “Have you done that?” reached its ear, the adolescent froze to the point. The one who had asked was of the same sort of beast Daz had smashed it discovered in nameless fear. The dreadful figure stepped closer and inspected the residues of the other Predator.

“Ah, don’t fear. I have to thank you for killing Soola. I’m Zaaz. Her uncle, you know? She needed a proper whacking – has becoming mad, you know? Was ripe. But I didn’t dare to do it. Thought there was so much good in her, you know?”

“But I, … I…,” tried the unisex to insert into the monologue.

“The other one? Why, you certainly had your reasons to kill him too. It was Lord D’Viant’s maitre de plaisir, wasn’t he?” With that the Predator sifted through the remains of Daz and picked up a filofax.” The Lord might need a new maitre – or mistress, “the Predator added after a doubting glance at the kid,” here, that now belongs to you. You’re the man!”

Touching swiftly the forehead of the adolescent, who pressed the bloody filofax at its flat breast, the Predator promised: “You can count on me. If you need support or protection, just call me. My troops are yours.” Now the Predator reached for his wristcom: “Predators! One more drink and than boarding. Starting time is in half an hour.”

Hans awoke several moments after the Predator had left scene: “What…? Where…? Who… who are you?”

The unisex guy responded weakly: “I’m your new manager.” Taking a deep breath it repeated several degrees self-conscious: “I’m your manager.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter 16- Jungle Tribesman by Darth Penurious

The Darknyte, a dull black infiltrator ship raced through space, headed to it’s docking bay. Onboard was a zabrak, at around age 19. He sat in the middle of the ship with his arms and legs crossed and his eyes closed, as he breathed slowly, deeply, in a rhythm.

The electric light from above shone down upon his skin, for his upper body was bare. His skin was as scarlet and burnt as fire and charcoal, and he was laden in ornate designs. Some of which were most pointed out was a star shaped scar upon his chest, and a long jagged slash over his right eye. His head was bald and displayed a crown of short, thorn like horns.

The ship shuddered, and he was thrown out of the trance. He quickly stood, and looked at the monitor. He wasn't anywhere close to Korriban, or Iridonia for that matter, and the space station Dragon's Heart was no where in range. He wondered how he had let himself be strayed away.

“Computer, where are we?” He asked Darknyte, while re-clothing himself, and finished by whirring on a gleaming black cloak.

“We are near Yavin 5, m’ Lord.” She replied. ‘Yavin 5......’ crossed his mind. What came to him was a history lesson about the ancient Massassi warriors of the old code. And he realized that perhaps he was supposed to be there. He had, infact built a new sith order similar to that of the Massassi. Maybe he was there to examine the past.

“Head to the planet, Darknyte.” He told the computer, and it prepared to enter Yavin 5. Penurious gripped a holocron in his left hand, feeling the need to have what he was going to learn be stored for all eternity. He looked forward out the blast shield window. The planet was green and blue with forest and water. Surely there would be some life forms there. And by the thought of that he snickered, and licked his lips, thinking of the sweet taste of blood.

As his ship slowed, entering through the atmosphere and coming in for a landing in a remote area, he walked over to a counter where lay a hologram pad and he turned it on and transmitted a message to his council. “I am on Yavin 5. I’m not sure how I got here, but time will tell.” He told his council.

Back on Korriban, the sith watched his message, and then replied, “Very well, Lord Penurious. We will await your return with great anticipation.” And then it dissipated. The sith lord grinned evily, and dematerilized his holocron, and left for the back of his ship. Even though he had a speeder packed onboard, he decided he would tread on foot. And the hatch opened and he departed. As he walked away from Darknyte, she locked herself and turned invisible.

Penurious walked out into a small patch of high grass. It was surrounded by a thick deep forest. Animals made rushing noises, fleeing, and crying in his presence. He shrugged. “Oh well.” And he gripped his lightsaber’s elongated hilt as he made his way through the chest high grass, keeping his senses keen for any possible attacks. Above him was a late afternoon sky. It was falling into a hue of painted orange. The clouds were red and pink. “Ah, it seems the planet welcomes me with gifts.”

He came into the forest. A tingling sensation hit his senses, and he smiled. Someone was near, fleeing before him. He took up speed, and silently bounded through the underbrush. Whoever it was, he wanted to find out. ‘A female.’ He concluded. As he continued, so did his prey, and eventually she came into sight.

To be continued...

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