pronker

Part Seventy-Four

Master Ali-Anann retied Initiate Mimo's hair ribbon for the third time that day. The Mirialan toddler switched from babbling about her new best friend to describing in detail how pudding was her dessert of choice because you could eat it with a spoon or a straw.

The burly Jedi's large fingers double-knotted the white ribbons just to be on the safe side, setting her off his knee onto the floor again. She grinned up at him. "Fank oo, Mastuw."

"You're very welcome, Miss Mimo." He rose from the bench outside Meditation Room Thirty-Seven in one smooth movement despite his large frame. He leaned down to pick up his end of the leading rope that each youngling clan member clasped or sucked or wound its primary tail around whenever he led them from the nursery to the Room of One Thousand Fountains or any other destination in their enormous shared home. Suddenly, the door to the meditation chamber whished open and out shot his old clan mate, Mace Windu. Mace looked neither left nor right, letting the Force guide his precipitous progress as it sailed him over the line of younglings in one enormous hurdle. Mace didn't break stride until he approached the nearest corner. Then he stopped, shouted, "Feel the Force!" and continued his mad dash. Mace had the most amazing grin on his face. Not even as a youngling had Ali-Anann seen Mace with such a smile, though Mace was prone to explosive bouts of laughter when something was funny enough. Ali-Anann paused to access the Force.

"Mastuw, ice cweam!"

"Mastuw, slippy slides!"

"Lookie, a new belt!"

"Math-tuh, I need to toidy!"

Ali-Anann shook himself out of a vision of an uninterrupted night's sleep and tended to his charges.

xxxxx

"Sensed it, too, I did, Mace." Yoda's ears straightened enough to give the impression of grave thought; if they had been perked, Mace would have known that Yoda had not a clue as to what had just happened. He couldn't recall the last time the fuzzy ears had been perked. "A lessening of the darkness, it was. Something greatly affecting the Jedi has occurred. Time we will need to perceive in what manner."

Mace couldn't stop smiling. "But a good thing, don't you agree, Master Yoda? Whatever it was, something monumentally good has taken place, wouldn't you say?" Mace could live with his ignorance of the details; it was important to him to receive Yoda's affirmation of his beneficial vision.

"Good, undeniably. Farther than that, see I cannot." And Yoda would not commit himself further.

"What should we do next, Master?" Mace wanted to declare a general Jedi holiday, although the Jedi observed only the Republic's days of commemoration of past political events. Mace still wanted to acknowledge this marvelous moment in some way.

Yoda spared his fellow Councilmember a glance with slitted eyes. "Calm yourself, my friend. And join me for tea. When the event becomes known, have need for wide-awake minds, I think."

Mace could not calm. "Rejoicing comes from the Force, Master. Let me rejoice first, and then I will fulfill my duties with you." And Mace excused himself from the august Councilmember's presence, trailing in a dazed way back to Ali-Anann's nursery. The infants napped, the toddlers lay down on their blankets for late afternoon quiet time, and Ali-Anann had put up his feet on a hassock. He gestured to Mace to pull over the nearest rocking chair. They gazed at the future of the Jedi Order in silence. "So what was it, Ali?" Mace asked after a time.

"Big. And good. And that's all I'm sensing. Why, what did you perceive?" Ali-Anann smoothed his dark brown beard in a way that told Mace the nursery Master was content to wait for others to interpret, and that all that really mattered to him slept or dozed under his watchful eye. Mace took a moment to relax and study each quiet little face. For the first time since Depa's trouble, he thought about taking on another Padawan, and the thought brought him joy.

"Rebirth," he said quietly.

The river propulgated.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Part Seventy-Five

Padmé and Anakin collapsed onto the sofa, still shaking. "What was that?" Padmé gasped. "Do you think --- could it have been another assassination attempt? There's nothing absolutely critical going on right now with my committees, but ... Artoo and Threepio gone? And that --- face, those eyes, I feel sick --- "

Anakin shielded his wife by turning away from her as he cupped his mechno-hand around the chip. It didn't detonate, but is it boobytrapped? He held it to his ear, enhancing his hearing. Nothing. I didn't crush it, I didn't ... no. There it lay, innocuous as it was deadly to his --- their --- treasured droid friends. Its plain ceramic surface held his interest. "No marks, none." He patted Padmé's knee comfortingly and took up his light, adjusting it to 'infrared.' "Nothing." 'Ultraviolet.' "Nothing." 'Microscopic magnification.' "Nothing, down to the molecular level." An anomaly? A synergy between the two droids, sparked by something Threepio had downloaded, such as a horror vid similar to the ones Obi-Wan adored, with its special effects filter eradicated? He didn't know.

Padmé leaned over his shoulder. "That is a clue in itself, isn't it? Manufacturers always want something on their products."

"Not black market manufacturers. Someone on Nar Shaddaa could make these up and use nearly non-traceable materials." His --- their --- droids remained as immobile as a traditional-but-basically-useless Chommell Minor windgong, which only rang when hurricanes approached, generally too late for anyone to get underground. Too late for them. Anakin didn't know if Artoo or Threepio would ever move again and since analyzing this chip was beyond his capacity, he would need the Jedi Analysis Room and its SP-4 droids. "I'll take this chip to the Temple Analysis Room. We'll make something of it." He looked glumly at Threepio's blackened eyes and remembered the effort, the months, it had taken to build the fussbudget. It had all been for Mom. He'd not let this go. The ghoulish face still chilled him. "Padmé, what were the droids' malfunctions?" It might be a long road to their repair, but he could take a first step.

Padmé considered. "About three weeks ago, Artoo began showing up in my bedroom for powering down, every night, not just occasionally. And Threepio seemed to become even more dithery, if possible. I told him about your mission to Nepsa" --- boring --- "and out of nowhere he called you 'Master Anapkin.' He didn't process my corrections at all." She started when the door chimed the arrival of their takeout. "And Artoo acted the same as always," she said over her shoulder, "only now that I think of it, he positioned himself closer to the bed those ... three ... weeks" --- Ommané --- "um, yes, every night." Padmé slid the door only open enough to take the dinners. "Thank you, Lance. Here's a tip for Pietro for last time. Got the Deltron Spice Wine and the Anoat Malted ... yes, I see you did. See you tomorrow night. No, tonight's not convenient, Lance. Goodbye." With a small smile for their tarnished celebration, Padmé flourished two boxed meals that smelled divinely of terratta. "Dinner is served."

xxxxx

Padmé isn't saying much. Anakin's flameflower-scented bath water was delightfully relaxing in the oversized tub that was shaped like a Solleu River duck. He floated on his stomach in a wide sprawl, pushing himself along the safety-roughened bottom with his stump, much like Kuki had poled their flatboat along the shallower stretches of Gitchy. He bumped into the head end of the duck and flipped over to float on his back. All the aches in his body left him; it was his mind that would not still. Yellow eyes ... not like the yellow-eyed fish on Trow, whose unblinking gaze led him to the surface and to life, the eyes harbored by Artoo spoke of death and perhaps something worse. He sat up to wash his hair, no longer awkward with doing so one-handed. After a plunge to rinse and a brisk toweling, he wrapped his outer robe about himself as a bathrobe substitute. This night isn't right for telling Padmé about my future living arrangements. Tomorrow morning, before I leave ... I know, it will be a doorknob moment ... It would be the third step of his kata. Would it be better to tell her right before leaving, or set up a date to tell her ... the further off the announcement, the more Anakin liked it. But Obi-Wan and the Force, they deserved better. Padmé would just have to learn new things. Maybe the things that Obi-Wan had done for him the other night, Padmé could learn to do. It wouldn't be difficult, and of course he would oblige her in the same fashion. But we've never even talked about it, and something about tonight is telling me 'no' ... Placing his mechno-arm in the cabinet under the sink for the night after wrapping it in a plush towel, Anakin opened the fresher door.

Padmé sat before her vanity, undoing her coif. She had no expression on her face at all as she mechanically brushed her hair, stroke after stroke. The curls shone in the soft glowglobe's illumination from the torchiere in the corner. It was the only light in the room. The pink stretchy material of her evening ensemble outlined her breasts enticingly. Anakin grinned and stood behind her elegantly-carved stool. He planted a hand on one breast, seeking her eyes in the mirror. She looked down at his hand, but otherwise didn't react. She continued brushing her hair worriedly. Anakin squeezed her breast, flicking at its tip beneath the thin material. The rosy tip that he had laved happily for many minutes at a time remained as flaccid as his cock. Anakin glanced at his hand and back again to Padmé in the mirror; her head was canted far to the side as she continued brushing. She squinched her eyes as her hairbrush snagged a mat of curls, but the pain was shortlived. By the time she opened her eyes, Anakin had gone to bed.

The river mused.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo