Master Apprentice Archive AYS: The Legend Continues Quick search:

Category: Angst, Non Q/O

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: A/Ami, A/m, m/f

Warnings: Rather gross mental images starring a droid and an annoying person, and some minor *het* sex play, not much humour.

Disclaimer: George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd. own all the characters. I'll give them back, honest!

Archive: Master and Apprentice, if the archivists feel it meets the criteria. Otherwise just at my site.

Feedback: Always a good thing. :) Send loc's to master_fishgoat@yahoo.com

Summary: Ben Kenobi tells a story in a far away cantina. Takes place about ten years after the end of Episode 3.

Notes: This is a companion piece to an AU fic I'm working on called "At Your Service" which details the story told in this fic...well, except the ending is AU from SW canon, unlike here. Unfortunately it may not get written until SW:Ep2 is out, so bear with me.

Many thanks to Master Yogurt for the feedback and encouragement. :)

"Give me another."

The bartender scowled but obeyed anyway, thrusting a grimy glass in the direction of the order. A coin spun and bounced off the counter before landing on the floor, deepening the barkeep's frown.

Oblivious to the man's bad humour, Ben took his dubious "drink" back to his table to rejoin the equally dubious company of pirates, merchants, and assorted moisture farmers, all celebrating Boonta Eve. One of the smugglers, a humanoid, glanced up as he approached the table and sat down.

"Hey, pretty boy, where's my drink?"

The trader only looked at him, then downed the contents of his glass in one gulp. "If you're thirsty, get your own."

"I bought the last round, slamo."

His client shrugged. "You have money. I don't."

A growl came from the smuggler and he moved to hit the man. A blur caught the incoming fist, then held it, squeezing the fingers. The smuggler yelped in pain as his companions hooted at his stupidity. Even the normally dour Trandoshen male, the leader of their little band, grunted in amusement as the young mercenary was released.

"Give it up, Donan, you know Ben can't be beaten in a fisst fight."

Donan glanced at the speaker, then glared at Ben. "Smart-ass cheap trade..."

Gevenne, the female Corellian among their motley company, pulled her mouth away from Tyk's and licked the air in Donan's direction. "Hah! You wish."

Donan rounded on her. "Bite me!"

Sharp fangs glittered in the half-light, all humour gone from his superior's face. "Where?" growled the Trandoshan, leaning menacingly.

Silence first, then whoops of glee erupted as Donan finally backed down, realising he was getting no support at all from his five colleagues. The two Corellians laughed as Bassuk sat back in his chair, chkkk-ing in quiet triumph. Stiin, Donan's partner, tried to calm the young man down, ready as he was to spit micro fusers.

Ben abruptly grinned and gestured with his glass. "Relax, Donan. Have a drink. Take a load off." He waggled his eyebrows mockingly. "If you're good I'll tell you a story...."

Donan spluttered and turned bright red, apoplectic with rage. He sat up and left the table, only to trip over Bassuk's tail which had "accidentally" been left in his path.

Bassuk grinned. "Ssorry, little man."

Donan stormed out of the cantina, laughter chasing him. His tablemates shook their heads at the young man. Surely twenty-two was old enough to be done with such histrionics.

Bassuk looked over at Stiin. "Neksst time leave the infant at home."

Stiin, who had been watching the door Donan had exited, replied, "Yeah, whatever." After several moments he turned back to his companions. "I think I need another drink."

A pretty Twi'lek brought them another round, simpering with cold calculation. Only Stiin bought her act, and even he was too distracted by Donan's departure to care much. Bassuk grinned as she sulked away, minus a gig for the night. Tyk and Gevenne were back to what they were doing, making slurping noises all the while.

Bassuk sipped his drink and noticed that Ben was staring off into space, oblivious to the porn vid in progress beside him. He managed to catch Ben's eye.

"Why didn't you break any of hiss fingerss?"

"That would have been a waste of effort. Besides, I didn't want to offend our Corellian guests here," he added, bowing to Gevenne and Tyk, the two "merchants" working with the smugglers on a local deal. Gevenne came up for air briefly and winked at them.

"Oh Ben, Ben, don't you be concerning yourself with that. There's not much you could do to offend us," she said, brushing her orange hair out of her face. "Watching you deal with that nob is usually quite amusing." She noticed Stiin's frown, and smacked his shoulder. "Oh, lighten up, Stiiny. Your boyfriend will be back."

Stiin glared at her, but only gulped his drink in answer. She laughed, then gasped as Tyk slipped his hand up her shirt, lightly brushing a nipple.

"Sso, Ben, tell us a sstory," Bassuk invited, only half joking.

Ben grinned. "Why? We have all the entertainment we need right here."

Bassuk snorted in distaste. "Rutting humanss don't do a thing for me."

"Ah, but they're amusing, are they not?"

Tyk leered at the trader. "How about you, Ben? Care to join us? It might be fun." Tyk looked suddenly less pleased as Gevenne punched him in the arm, not at all amused. She promptly took her hand out of his pants, forcing him to spend the next couple of minutes trying to placate her with whispered promises of lust-filled activity. Thanks to the alcohol and spice, he managed to get her back in the mood in record time, groaning loudly when nimble fingers reacquainted themselves with his cock.

Ben shook his head, then looked back at Bassuk. "What kind of story?"

"Whatever you wish, as long as it'ss worth the time to lissten. After all, I have been very, very good."

Ben smirked. "That was why I asked you to get me those contraband supplies."

"Yess, and later I'll tell you the sstory of why they cosst as much as they did." He frowned and rubbed the back of his head, still sore from an Imperial blaster bolt graze.

Ben laughed. "I'm sure you will, Bassuk, over and over and over again, embroidering the tale with new feats of daring each time."

Bassuk raised his glass in gruff agreement. "But of coursse. That is the Warrior'ss Way." He leaned forward. "But you, I want you to tell me a sstory." He glanced around. "It'd be better than what thiss poor excusse for a cantina band iss playing."

Ben's grin turned glacial. "Oh, I have many stories, some worth much credit." Ben leaned over. "How much are you willing to pay?"

Stiin, who had drunk much more than was wise, spluttered out, "But why does he need to pay?"

Ben sighed at the pirate. "Stiin, Stiin, how many times do I have to tell you to stop asking such private, expensive questions?" He shoved the man's bony shoulder, sending Stiin slithering to the floor, giggling happily. Ben send an exasperated look to Bassuk. "Why in the galaxy do you bother with those two?" including the absent Donan with a wave.

Bassuk frowned and sipped his drink, suddenly uncomfortable. "They have their usses."

Ben grunted. He knew when not to pry. He wished that these smugglers would learn also. "So, a story. How about you buy me another round, eh?"

"I'll buy you one. If I like it, you'll get more."

"Fair enough."

Ben's eyes glinted as he downed his drink. He knew a story alright, one that would please the Trandoshen. And, if he really liked it, he might get a better deal on parts next time.

Besides, Vader deserved a little payback.

His grin was positively feral as he grabbed a cup from the passing waitress' tray and downed it. Wiping his beard he set the glass down.

"Well," he started, a little too loudly, "This is a story about your favourite villain and mine, Darth Vader."

Several cat calls and jeers erupted from nearby tables as other patrons stopped to listen. Ben puffed himself up as only a semi-drunk man could and addressed his expanded audience. "Yes, Darth Vader, that scum sucking, bantha-licking slimefest, whom we all know and revere as High Lord Muckity-Muck, second only to that loveable old geezer, Em-per-ress Palpitation!!" He raised his empty glass in toast as the cantina cheered. A few nervous folk fled the bar, not wanting to be around if any Imperial troops caught wind of what was going on. Even Tyk and Gevenne unglued their lips briefly to listen to the trader.

"Yes, the greatest leaders our Noble Galaxy ever had. But," he whispered, "Darth Vader was not always evil. Oh no." Ben grimaced. "One time he was a young man. Tall, handsome, with wavy blond hair cut in a very silly haircut..." Murmurs of disbelief interrupted him. "Yes, truly! He was!" Ben glared at the audience, daring them to gainsay him. Many did anyway, some with expressive tentacled gestures.

"Anyway...you see, he was in training to be a Jedi..." - boos and hisses greeted this news - "...and Jedi always cut their students' hair funny to humiliate them." The crowd laughed. "At least, that's what my Ma...my mom always told me." Ben seemed to stumble for a moment, and Bassuk took sudden note of it. He had never seen Ben so rattled. Quickly, though, the man recovered.

"Anyway, he was a Jedi student, and a very good one, by all accounts, and was soon to be a Knight if all had gone well."

"But, he had a fatal flaw."

Ben crouched down, causing his listeners to gather around him. "You see, he was...a sexual deviant."

The anticipation the cantina denizens had felt dissolved into disappointment and irritation. Ben found himself awash in jeering comments aimed at him.

"Oh, big deal!"

"What, he liked to fuck ewoks?"

"No, Noghri are sexier!"

"Ya gotta do better than that, Ben!"

"I'll bet I'm a bigger deviant than he is!"

"That's so lame!"

He almost lost his audience then, jaded as they were. He said the one word that he knew would bring them back.

"Droids."

A collective gasp went up. A shocked silence. Ben bared his teeth. "Yes. Our great Lord Loved. To. Fuck. Droids." He paused for emphasis. "And not just any droid. He preferred his Protocol droid."

"Vader had built it at an early age, and over the years he added more improvements, making it more useful. When he hit puberty he got the bright idea of adding certain, shall we say, modifications to his droid's anatomy."

Hoots of laughter filled the air along with many cries of "How long was it?"

Ben smirked. "Oh, long enough. Certainly quite adequate to give our young future Dark Lord a good ramming up the backside, which he seemed to enjoy very, very much."

"This went on for quite a while. Then Young Vader fell in love with a beautiful woman by the name of 'Dala." Again, Ben paused amid the raucous side comments, then cleared his throat. "They were mad about each other and were soon to marry. But still, Vader had his hidden trysts with his beloved droid."

"I don't know for how long he managed to keep his illicit affair secret - even his own Master never knew," Ben spoke softly, almost bitterly. "If he had known, maybe he could have prevented what came after."

Bassuk looked hard at Ben. If he hadn't known any better, he would have sworn the man looked almost haunted. This was obviously more than a story to his client. But was it actually true? Bassuk chewed on a claw thoughtfully.

"Then one night, 'Dala found out."

Ben's demeanor suddenly changed to that of a maniacal goofball. "In a rage, she grabbed the nearest fusion cutter and sliced off the droid's ahem intimate member." Cheers greeted this pronouncement, especially when Ben mimed the amputation with a sausage roll lifted from a neighboring table and threw the "member" into the crowd.

Stiin, near to wasted, blubbered, "His what??"

Bassuk wiped the man's spit from his clothes. "Hiss cock, you idiot!"

Stiin blinked. "Oh," he said. Then passed out in his plate. Bassuk grunted, disgusted.

"She then proceeded to smash the droid to bits, finishing the job with a small thermal detonator shoved up under his breast plate." More applause and cheers as Ben bowed, grinning evilly.

"As for Vader, well, he, too, lost his intimate member." Thunderous applause greeted that pronouncement. Pleased hands clapped him on the back as Ben reached over to steal another drink from Stiin, who was snorting into his food, asleep.

"Vader, of course was none too pleased by this turn of events, and turned to evil. After a long and pointless duel with his Master, he was thrown into a vat of molten metal. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough to finish him off, and his Master had been too injured himself to make certain of his fate. Somehow he escaped, and became the well loved leader we all know today," he finished with a sarcastic flourish.

Many mutterings of "Damned Jedi..." "...all their fault..." "...good riddance..." reached Ben's ears. He stiffened slightly, then quickly recovered and continued his tale.

"Now, I've told this story many times," he winked. "And each time, someone has asked me why Vader just didn't get a new, ahem, 'sabre made for himself." Ben looked around expectantly, waiting. Bassuk grinned, taking the cue.

"Sso, Ben, why didn't he?"

"I'm glad you asked, Sere Bassuk. Actually, he did." He looked around. "Of course he did. He must have. How else could he have screwed the galaxy so completely?"

The crowd erupted into glee as Ben stepped down from the table and returned to his seat. Many drinks magically appeared beside the man as he waved his thanks, plastic smile firmly in place. Once the applause had died down it took only a little Force nudge to divert the patrons' attention away from him, drunk and otherwise high as they were. With a great sigh Ben sank into his seat, ignored again.

Bassuk sipped his drink. "That wass an interessting tale you told, Ben. Ssurely your imagination iss as ssick and twissted as any of my colleagues," he said, glancing at the two Corellians who were now going at it quite energetically, oblivious to the patrons around them.

Ben smirked. "I'm so glad you enjoyed it, Bassuk." He sighed. "I'm afraid, however, that I have reached my limit as far as the local potables are concerned," gesturing toward the many drinks still on the table, some of which were in danger of being spilt thanks to their amorous companions' thrashings.

"Another time, then. I look forward to hearing another of your tall taless."

A shattered look flashed from Ben's eyes, then he smiled and winked at the Trandoshan. "Actually, it's all true." Then Ben Kenobi, who remembered the blond-haired young man he had trained, his wife and children, and the golden protocol droid that was his downfall, rose with a curt nod and walked unsteadily out of the cantina, ignoring the sudden cries of orgasm behind him.

Bassuk put down his drink, lost in thought, disregarding the noise and the snoring. He hadn't missed the split second of pain in the trader's eyes. He watched him shamble out the door, and wondered again just who Ben was. And wondered if it would be worth his while to find out.
 

[END]
(Apr/01)