The Beribac King

by Jane Sehrn-Ta

Title -- The Beribac King.
Author -- Jane Sehrn-Ta (jane.sehrnta at googlemail dot com).
Archive -- Yes to Master Apprentice and my livejournal only.
Category -- Alternate-Universe, Crossover, Qui/Other, First-Time.
Rating -- Adult.
Warnings -- Plant porn ;).
Summary -- Taras Dooku has misplaced his Padawan again, and finds him in a rather strange predicament.
Feedback -- Would be greatly valued.
Disclaimer -- The Star Wars universe belongs to George Lucas and Lucasfilm Ltd. This tale was written for the joy of it by a grateful fan that makes no money from it.
Dedication -- A very Happy Birthday to my dear friend, Little Owl. Thank you for another year of intrigues, my dear comrade, and for the fun and friendship you bring to my life. This tale is for you, and is sent with lots of love, huggs, and a boundless supply of Force-proof rope.
Notes -- // // indicates telepathy.

Master Taras Dooku nodded at another poorly-timed joke and consoled himself with a sip of the wine, which was a little dry on his palate, just the way he liked it. He was certain that Master Yoda insisted on sending him on these bland diplomatic missions as a kind of inducement to curb his wayward spirit, but truth be told, it had quite the opposite effect. There were more important things in the galaxy to do than observe the coronation of a planetary ruler, and he would rather be doing them. The Outer Rim was a hotbed of crime and activity, and the Jedi could do more good there than sip wine and listen to bad jokes. He nodded politely as his glass was topped up, and cast a sidelong glance at the empty seat beside him, frowning a little in disapproval.

His Padawan, Qui-Gon Jinn, was a self-confessed lightweight when it came to alcohol and had pleaded for a moment to step outside, get some fresh air, and clear his system. However, that had been over ten minutes ago, and he should have returned by now. His absence would be noticed and likely remarked on negatively by their hosts. At that moment, sure enough, the aide to the new Queen of Naboo announced that they would shortly adjourn to the adjacent ballroom for dancing, at which time they would be expected to accompany the young Queen and greet visiting dignitaries from adjacent worlds.

//Qui-Gon!// Dooku injected as much dignified annoyance into the mental prompt as he could, but was surprised at the lack of response. He reached cautiously across the bond with his apprentice and was more startled by the distinct absence of his Padawan's energy in his mind. Perhaps Qui-Gon had been drunker than he had admitted and was shielding out of shame.

"Master Dooku" the oily voice of a Nemoidian filled his ears as he rose gracefully to his feet and bowed in greeting. "It is good to see the Jedi bless this great event with their presence."

As much as he loathed most Nemoidians for their simpering nature, the fact was undeniable that they had secured a great foothold in galactic trading, and as a result, were a race to be reckoned with. "It is always a pleasure to meet a revered member of the Trade Federation," Dooku replied smoothly. "I look forward to discussing news from the Outer Rim with you later."

"As it is always a great pleasure to discuss our simple work with a Master Jedi," the Nemoidian replied, his large eyes unblinking. "And where is your young apprentice? I had hoped for an introduction."

"I promise that you will meet him soon," Dooku replied, biting back a flash of annoyance. If Qui-Gon was able to sense him through his shielding, Dooku knew from experience that a show of anger would keep his wayward apprentice hidden for longer.

"I look forward to it," the Nemoidian crooned, bowing again and sweeping out with the other dinner guests through the ornate doors leading to the ballroom.

Dooku resisted the temptation to rush from the room, bowing and making small talk when addressed, but slowly progressing to the balcony adjoining the dining room. He finally broke free, only to find himself waylaid just outside the door by the young Queen herself, flanked by her handmaidens, all of whom were extremely skilled and capable of defending their young monarch.

"Your Highness," he said, bowing deeply to the Queen.

"We are pleased that the Jedi were able to send representatives to Naboo. We are honoured by your presence."

"The honour is all mine, m'lady." Dooku said, not fully straightening out of the bow so as to better match the young monarch's height.

"I had hoped for some time to talk with you about the state of the Republic," the Queen continued in a young but cultivated voice. "Perhaps there will be an opportunity for me to meet with you and Padawan Jinn during the festivities tonight, Master Dooku."

Dooku was a little surprised and pleased. That the new monarch had bothered to acquaint herself with the names of the Jedi observers indicated more than a vacuous interest in Republic politics. "I hope so, m'lady," Dooku replied. "I just stepped out here to fetch my Padawan. He came out here to enjoy the air, no doubt."

The Queen looked a little amused, the painted teardrop on her lips deepening as she pursed them. "You may have to look further afield than the balcony, Master Dooku. I am told he went for a walk in the gardens."

Dooku was a seasoned field agent, but for some reason he blushed a little at the knowing look exchanged between the Queen and one of her handmaidens, who was obviously the source of the intelligence. When he had Qui-Gon in his clutches again, he vowed he would make Qui-Gon write the next ten mission reports as punishment. "Thank you, m'lady" he said as gracefully as he could. "If you would kindly excuse me?"

"Of course, Master Dooku," the Queen nodded, the tiny tiled mirrors on her headdress shifting with the light. "I understand these events may lead even the most dedicated among us to distraction."

"You are too kind." Dooku bowed deeply again and then withdrew several steps before turning and leaving the Queen's presence. He sighed inwardly as he nodded to the guards flanking the staircase leading down to the garden. He should have known that given the choice between the mind-numbing niceties of a state reception and the attraction of a cultivated, yet sprawling garden, Qui-Gon would stray.

At nineteen, Qui-Gon was nearly at the age when Dooku was knighted by his own Master, but his Padawan's tendency to be distracted by stray life forms and growing things was a distinct setback to Qui-Gon's progress into the ranks of Jedi Knight. He wondered sometimes if it was the fact that only a mere ten years separated them as Master and Padawan. When he was first chosen, Qui-Gon had been duly respectful to Dooku, but increasingly that respect tended to give way to whatever took Qui-Gon's attention at any given moment. Balancing Qui-Gon's focus in the now and his philosophy of "living in the Moment" was a challenge, and he sometimes wondered if things would have gone better if, like his own Master, he had been much older and wiser.

Of course, such reflections didn't really help his mood as he strode amongst the cultivated beds, searching for his erstwhile Padawan. He supposed his grim countenance was in direct contrast to the light spirits of the few guests who had strayed to the garden, and he had to remind himself to keep his expression calm. He drew a few deep breaths. Ten mission reports, he thought again. I think this is worthy of twenty at least...

He didn't want to admit to the crime of misplacing his Padawan, so he felt unable to ask the other guests as to Qui-Gon's whereabouts. However, he seemed to earn curious looks and a few even glanced toward a more remote corner of the garden, as if they knew instinctively the target of his search.

As he progressed in the direction suggested by the knowing looks, the garden was becoming less cultivated and more unconstrained. Fruit-laden vines climbed over ancient broken stone walls, which were surely evidence of an older time and the original inhabitants of the palatial grounds. As though confirming his choice of direction, he now felt a mild disturbance in the Force. It was muted, and checking the bond again with Qui-Gon, he sensed that the static was connected with his Padawan. Perhaps Qui-Gon was in trouble? His annoyance gave way to concern, and he quickened his pace, his hand closing over his 'saber where it was clipped to his belt. His caution seemed well-placed as a figure stepped out of the shadows in front of him.

"Steady, Master Jedi," the man said, bowing, his strangely fashioned clothes moving with him, revealing a broad chest before he straightened again. "Let's not do anything rash," the young man's speech was slurred a little, as if he was drunk, although his dark eyes seemed lucid and full of fire.

"Who are you?" Dooku commanded.

"Jus' one of the humble garden keepers, Master Jedi," came the response. Sure enough, his slightly soiled clothing and gloves seemed to reinforce his statement. However, the elaborate makeup and braided hair seemed slightly out of place. "Jakk Sparflyer, at your service." Again, the man swept into a bow. He straightened and looked up at Dooku as though amazed. "'Nother tall one, I see. They must grow 'em big at the Jedi temple."

"Then you've seen another Jedi?" Dooku asked, not sure now whether to be really concerned or to allow his earlier annoyance to resurface.

"I have. I'm thinking you'd be looking for another one like you, but a few sheets to the wind and all..."

Dooku tried not to frown at the metaphor, which he could only take to mean that Qui-Gon was still drunk. "Where is he?" he demanded imperiously, drawing up to his full, intimidating height.

"Ummm, that's the thing isn't it...?" Jakk began, pretending to think, and then looking rather concerned by the way Dooku's hand had drifted back to rest on the hilt of his 'saber.

"You will tell me where he is," Dooku commanded, adding a Force suggestion to the words. Surprisingly, the dark-haired rogue seemed unaffected. He studied him through the Force and discovered that the garden keeper had more than a little resonance in the Force. It was not entirely surprising -- quite often those sensitive to the Living Force were attracted to such professions.

"I'll take you to him, of course, Master Jedi," Jakk continued, taking a nervous sip from the flask slung from his belt.

Dooku didn't have to ask about the nature of the drink as a small trickle of red liquid stained the garden keeper's lips, which appeared to have taken on a red tinge next to the glow of his pale skin.

"I jus' wanted to warn you of something though. It's usually not a problem, luv, but then one turns up, unexpected like. Y'see, that's why I'm here in the first place, to warn 'em and all."

"Warn who?"

"I did try to tell him, Master Jedi, but he insisted on going on an' y'know... who am I to argue with you powerful Jedi types?"

Dooku pulled the 'saber from his belt and activated it. "You will tell me where my Padawan is."

"'Course, Master Jedi, course." The garden keeper's eyes goggled at the sight of the glowing indigo blade. "Jus' put that away and lemme explain."

"No explaining," Dooku growled, deactivating the blade but holding it at the ready. "Take me to him."

"Aye, Master Jedi," Jakk agreed, turning and stumbling onto an overgrown and clearly little-used path.

Dooku followed the other man's drunken gait. He nearly ran into the garden keeper as the man suddenly stopped in the path.

"Ahhh, i's what I feared."

"What do you...?" Dooku broke off in mid-sentence as he saw a brown cloak discarded on the path before him. He picked it up and examined the garment. "This is Qui-Gon's..."

"It doesn't happen very often. Every few 'undred years or so." Jakk had clearly decided it was best to keep moving ahead of Dooku's 'saber which was still at the ready.

Right now, thoughts of forcing Qui-Gon to write all future mission reports as punishment had fled from Dooku's mind. He just wanted to find Qui-Gon before the young man embarrassed him and the Jedi once again. His heart thumped as the garden keeper stopped and before them, Qui-Gon's belt, 'saber, and obi lay discarded on the path. He glanced around him anxiously. There was no sign of a struggle, no sense of a malicious threat in the adjoining bushes.

"You see, it kinda sings to 'em, savvy?" Jakk said, lurching off down the path again and nearly falling over in his bid to avoid stepping on the discarded outer tunic before him.

"What does?" Dooku demanded, grasping the man's collar and drawing him to a halt. "What is going on here?"

"The vines, Master Jedi, the Beribac vines. Calls to 'em. Those who are strong in the Growin' Force. Like your young friend. 'M sure he's all right. They always are." Then he winked lasciviously. "More than all right, savvy?"

Dooku had heard it called a few things before, and there was no doubt that Qui-Gon had somehow been drawn to walk this path by the Living Force, regardless of his Master's threat of not creating another diplomatic incident on Naboo, as he had a few times in the past. Right now, he'd be happy to have Qui-Gon safe at his side, and he would consider discipline when he didn't feel like throttling his apprentice. It was then he heard the strangest keening sound -- he was most certain it was from Qui-Gon's throat -- and his heart leapt in his chest. He broke into a run and was astonished by the scene that appeared before him.

In the midst of a copse of creeping vines - and the adjective was most apt, considering the vines were writhing everywhere -- lay his Padawan on his back, naked and also writhing. He powered up his 'saber and was suddenly astonished to have the garden keeper hold back his 'saber arm with a grip that suddenly seemed intense, belying the man's appearance.

"S'best not to interrupt, 'savvy? They don't take too kind to interruptin' the ceremony."

"They... they're sentient?"

"Sent... I dunno," Jakk frowned in miscomprehension, "but it seems your young Padi-whatever is havin' a good time of it."

Sure enough, Dooku's eyes were adjusting to the dim light, supplemented by the reflections of distant glow globes in the garden and, he was sure, illumination from the vines themselves. The tips of the vines were stroking Qui-Gon and raking leaves across his skin like the caress of a lover. Several of the smaller vines had adhered to Qui-Gon's erect cock and nipples, and judging from the rippling movement of the leaves as Qui-Gon thrust his hips into the air and groaned, the experience was pleasurable not only for the young Jedi but for the symbiotic vine as well. It was then he saw another of the vines snaking up Qui-Gon's leg and his Padawan writhed again as the tip of the vine, dripping with the juice of whatever the garden keeper had been drinking, plunged inside him.

"Force, yes!" Qui-Gon cried in ecstasy, his voice hushed by the tender caress of one of the vines over his lips.

Any concerns he had about Qui-Gon's consent, or ability to breathe, dissipated with the lust inherent in the cry. He was pretty much gaping now, wondering where this wanton creature had been dwelling inside the body of his sometimes awkward and gangly Padawan. Qui-Gon had always been homely in his looks, but now with the juices dripping from his lips, his hair wild and his body straining as if to take in every sensation it was being offered, he looked like some kind of nature god.

Dooku finally forced himself to look away, only to find himself staring into the leering face of Jakk Sparflyer.

"S'kind of intense, ain't it?" Jakk said, grinning and taking a swig from the flask on his belt again. "I did warn 'im, but it's like I said -- sings to 'em. They can resist, but don't want to, savvy?"

Dooku considered himself a level man, but it was impossible to think, given the muffled groans of his Padawan achieving orgasm, seemingly in time with the vines which had reached a frenetic level of activity. He closed his eyes, swallowed, and resisted the urge to ask the garden keeper for a gulp of whatever was in his flask. He breathed, willing his own swelling cock to behave as Qui-Gon's sounds finally subsided and silence settled over the copse.

He looked over to see the vines were drawing away, including the one that was buried deep inside Qui-Gon. Qui-Gon moaned at the loss and lay, clearly sated, with a lopsided smile on his face. It was then that Qui-Gon's presence within the Force returned, and Dooku reached immediately to his apprentice in concern.

//Qui-Gon?// He began striding toward his Padawan, but was knocked flat by the flailing of a vine which struck him clear across the face, throwing him back to the edge of the copse.

"Your light sword, savvy?" Jakk said, gesticulating at the 'saber clutched in Dooku's hand. "They'd be thinking you want to harm their King."

"King?"

"Y'know," Jakk said, as if pained to state the obvious. "King of the Beribacs. Good fortune it is, 'specially on the night of the Naboo coronation. Queen Nayoola'll be most pleased. It may be she'll wanta bed the young fellow herself."

Dooku sat up, gathering as much dignity about him as he could. Despite his instincts, he put his 'saber down and got up, carefully approaching Qui-Gon and wary of another attack, which never came. "Qui-Gon?" he called softly, kneeling beside the young man.

"Master?" Qui-Gon asked, his body still trembling in a post-coital haze.

"Are you all right?" The question sounded nonsensical to his own ears, but there was little Dooku could think of to say that wouldn't sound stupid right now.

"Fine, Master." Qui-Gon's voice was a definite purr. "Never better."

"The vines... they're sentient?"

"Strong in the Living Force," Qui-Gon's voice was husky. "So strong... Force..." His own hand was idly stroking over his chest now, teasing lightly at his own nipples.

"Enough of that, Padawan," Dooku said, swallowing hard as he draped Qui-Gon's cloak across his body, barely concealing the fact that Qui-Gon's cock was still erect and smothered with the juice as though his come was weeping with the rich red of the Beribac.

"Yes, Master. Sorry..." Qui-Gon gasped, attempting to take control of his body, but clearly finding it difficult. "I just... never expected it... to feel like that..."

"You are a virgin?" Dooku asked, somewhat surprised, considering that most senior Padawans experimented with each other before their Knighting.

"Ummm... yes... was..."

"And you..." Dooku was finding it difficult to stop his voice from shaking, "... consented?"

"Yes... it just seemed natural. And ohhh..." The longing tone made heat shoot straight to Dooku's groin all over again. "I wanted it so much."

It's natural enough that I'll never want you to repeat any of this in a mission report of any kind, Dooku reflected to himself. "Can you stand?"

Qui-Gon nodded and, to his credit, was able to make it to his feet and let Dooku wrap his robe around him.

"There ya go," Jakk announced, as though this was the most ordinary occurrence in the world. "You'll be wanting to stay in my cabin tonight, luv. The Changeling part is a bit -- well, wild -- savvy?"

"The Queen is expecting us," Dooku said, aware of the incongruence of the still writhing young man in his arms with the restrained air of the Jedi-trained Padawan who had arrived with him that morning.

"She'll understand, trust me." Jakk gave an exaggerated wink. "I'll let one of the handmaidens know that there's a new Beribac king. We'll all have celebratin' to do. But in the mornin'. Gotta go through the changeling stage first."

Dooku was about to protest when he felt Qui-Gon's body pressed up against him, his Padawan's face buried against his neck, and Qui-Gon was nipping at his skin. //Padawan!// Dooku pulled away. Whatever the "changeling stage" was, it was clear he had to isolate Qui-Gon and help him to get in command of his senses again.

"Where's your cabin?" he snapped at Jakk.

Jakk swept out a bow graciously. "This way, luv." He led them down another small path, where they came upon a rundown stone cabin, which was perhaps one of the original dwellings in the lavish garden. "Lemme help you with 'im," Jakk said, taking hold of Qui-Gon's arm and resting it round his neck as he dragged Qui-Gon toward the sleeping pad.

Qui-Gon latched himself to his new supporter and began to thrust his hips against him.

"I'm flattered, luv," Jakk slurred, looking anxiously at Dooku, "but really, he's the one you want." He pushed Qui-Gon gently toward the bed and backed away as Qui-Gon fell onto his back, the cloak falling open as he began to caress his body again. "He's all yours," Jakk winked, staggering back to Dooku's side. "He'll do a bit of yellin' t'night, but it's all right. It's all part of the Change." His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Jus' be careful. He might be wantin' to make you one too. Look out for the thorns."

Before Dooku could question him, Jakk was out the door, leaving him alone with Qui-Gon, who was presently turned on his stomach, thrusting into the bed to increase the stimulation of his cock.

//Qui-Gon?// Dooku said, stepping across to the bed cautiously. //Can you hear me? Reach out to me.//

Qui-Gon moaned softly and tried to still his body as his mind quested toward Dooku's.

Dooku spoke softly. "Repeat the Fundamental Mantra for me, Padawan."

"Don't speak, Master," Qui-Gon begged, clawing at the bedding. "Your voice..."

//My voice?//

"Want you so badly right now," Qui-Gon gasped.

Dooku felt a wave of lust wash over him again, and teetered on the brink between covering the body stretched out before him with his own and locking himself out of the cabin and getting on the comm with Master Yoda, whose presence always had a way of knocking any lustful thoughts instantly out of him. The former was threatening to win out, and it took all his considerable resolve to take a step back.

//What is the changeling stage, Padawan? Do you know what they're talking about?//

//It's part of the agreement.//

Dooku bit his lip as the sound of his voice elicited another loud moan from Qui-Gon.

//With the Beribac, Master. They promised me enlightenment in the Living Force, in exchange for taking on a part of their life force. They are inside me... evolving...// Qui-Gon moaned again. //I am not the first. There are many of us in the galaxy... and we live forever, with those we Choose. //

//Then... you'll always be like this?//

"Would you like that, Master?" Qui-Gon asked in a sultry tone, turning over onto his back and stroking himself as he watched Dooku's face.

//You'll never become a Jedi, Qui-Gon... how can you want this?//

"Of course I'll be a Jedi, Master." Qui-Gon's hand returned to an exploration of his chest, as he continued to languidly stroke himself with the other. "After the Change I will be who I was... I will just have... certain appetites." His voice dropped to a husky whisper. "And I don't have to Choose you for you to have me, Master... as many times as you want."

Dooku watched as the fingers paused above Qui-Gon's chest, producing tiny, hook-like thorns from beneath the skin, their shape reminiscent of the tips of the vines. Beware of the thorns, he mused on Jakk Sparflyer's last words. Even as he watched, the hooks retracted.

"I'd only Choose you if you wanted it," Qui-Gon repeated, stroking his skin invitingly. "You could still have me."

Right now, Dooku was mesmerized by the combination of words dropping easily off his Padawan's lips, and the hands gently kneading Qui-Gon's swollen cock. He had taken his share of lovers, male and female, but the invitation spread before him was more than he could stand.

Qui-Gon rolled further onto his back and held out a hand. "Only if you want to, Master. There's others who will mate with me."

"Silence," Dooku commanded softly, turning away and closing his eyes. He gasped as Qui-Gon sprang from the bed in a blur of Force-assisted movement and pressed against him, heated length hard where Qui-Gon ground against him.

//It's what I've wanted... for a long time...// Qui-Gon's mental voice was a soft purr.

Qui-Gon's hands began to roam over his body and he pulled away, turning to look at his Padawan. Qui-Gon's eyes were more intensely blue than usual, and his body seemed to be radiating a soft glow reminiscent of the light of the Beribac vines. In a moment, he bridged the distance between them in one stride and took Qui-Gon's mouth in a savage kiss. They seemed to be engaged in a titanic struggle as to who could remove his clothes first, and that feat had been barely achieved before he had pushed Qui-Gon onto the bed, reeling at the sensation of the heated flesh rising to meet his.

Wherever Qui-Gon's hands touched, he felt the light rake of the thorns, and it sent fire to his cock as he thrust against the heated body beneath him. True to Qui-Gon's word, the thorns never penetrated his skin, but he had an idea from the tingling sensation rushing along his spine what the ecstasy of Qui-Gon's joining with the Beribac had been like.

Dooku inched down and licked at the head of Qui-Gon's cock, mouthing it and tasting the strong flavours of the Beribac juice mixed with the taste of Qui-Gon's completion. Pleasure rushed in waves through his body. If the Beribac was a known aphrodisiac, it was the best kept secret in the galaxy. He imagined that he could come from the act of Qui-Gon thrusting into his mouth alone, and was not only shocked to find that he had, but that he was still hard and aching for completion.

He leaned up and Qui-Gon smiled shamelessly at him, drawing his legs toward his chest and opening himself. Any thoughts of gentle preparation were dismissed as Qui-Gon reached out with his ankles to hook him closer. After a moment's fumble, he was buried within Qui-Gon, tight muscles increasing the stimulation with every thrust. Qui-Gon's mouth had fallen open in an "ohhh" shape, enraptured as he had been only a short time ago. The keening sound began in Qui-Gon's throat, and rather than beg Qui-Gon to be quiet, he wanted to hear more of those sounds. He leaned down and thrust his tongue between Qui-Gon's lips, drawing the taste of the Beribac into his mouth as well as the sound of Qui-Gon's passion into his soul.

For a moment, the thought occurred to him that Qui-Gon was too far gone to really know him, and that thought alone stilled his movement. He leaned close to Qui-Gon's ear. "Do you know who I am, Qui-Gon?"

"My Master," Qui-Gon replied with confidence. "Master Taras Dooku."

"And do you know this is against the Code?"

"Fuck the code," Qui-Gon said, chuckling softly.

"Now, you're starting to sound more like a Padawan of mine," Dooku said. "Do you really think you can be one of these Changelings, and escape the notice of the Council?"

"There are other Changelings in the Jedi, Master," Qui-Gon purred conspiratorially. "I don't know who they are, but they exist. The Beribac gave me knowledge of them."

The news was startling, but not entirely without basis. Even his own Master was extremely long-lived for his kind. He was determined to check his Master's room next time he visited for evidence of the Beribac juice. Surprisingly, thoughts of the little green troll did nothing to reduce the enthusiasm of his cock, which despite his lack of motion seemed imbedded in a rippling wave of warmth.

"Imagine the good we can do with an unlimited life, Master. The Beribac do not tolerate evil. And in exchange for our service, they guarantee lives of sensation, and of pleasure."

"Imagine how many diplomatic missions Master Yoda can send us on over hundreds of years."

"Imagine how many times you can fuck me," Qui-Gon returned with a suggestive smile.

That seemed to be enough to decide things for Taras Dooku. He drew back a little and looked into Qui-Gon's eyes, examining him for lucidity, and found it in the amused expression on his Padawan's face. "I will always be the Master," he said, allowing ownership to seep into his voice.

"Of course, Master." Qui-Gon grinned.

"Then, by all means, Padawan... Choose me..."

Qui-Gon looked at him, as though assessing his words, and then, moments later, he felt the tiny hooks securing him to Qui-Gon's body, as the larger thorns arose and sank into his flesh. In a wave of orgiastic pleasure, he came inside Qui-Gon's body, before he blacked out.

Qui-Gon felt once more in control of his mind, body and emotions. In a night he had mastered the transformation of the Beribac and had become a Changeling. As had his Master, still asleep beside him. He carded his fingers through thick locks of black hair and smiled. Looking up in the thin light, he noticed markings carved into the stone wall beside him. There was a pair of initials, one carved above the other, and he traced the letters idly. He felt a sense of brotherhood with the others who had been here, and had perhaps experienced the Changeling rite as he had. He memorized the initials -- L.U. and O.W.K. Perhaps one day he would recognize another of his kind, identified by those letters.

There were yet others, but time and ceremony had erased the evidence from the wall. He would have to ask Jakk about them before they left the planet. As guardian, Jakk would have seen many Changelings come and go over hundreds of years, maybe thousands. He wondered if the man's addiction to Beribac juice was a by-product of the responsibility of being custodian to such an incredible secret.

At that moment, the door opened to the cabin and Jakk Sparflyer stuck his head through the door. "I did warn you, luv, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Qui-Gon agreed. "And I'm not sorry for anything that happened."

"That's good," Jakk opened the door, and a gaggle of curious face peered in behind him. "Y'see, the Queen and her lovely ladies here would love to take you and y'Master up to the Palace for some celebratin'."

"I think we have the energy for that," Qui-Gon replied with a smile, as his Master stirred and pressed up close against him, arousal evident in his body and voice as he spoke at last.

"Indeed, I'm certain we do."

The End