Master Apprentice
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Remember the Mynocks
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Archive: M_A; my site; anyone else, just ask
Category: Q/O, humour/parody
Rating: PG
Warnings: none
Spoilers: minor AOTC
Summary: The consequences of pathetic life forms.
Feedback: Pretty please? On or off list.
Disclaimers: You the man, George. The only thing I'm getting for this is some cheap thrills and (hopefully) some feedback.
Thanks to: The Rose for the quick beta.
Notes: This is all Hilary's fault, issuing challenges when I'm supposed to be writing JE. :P Even though this is not a Bedtime Story, I'm going to go ahead and stick this in the Bedtime Stories universe, so you can consider it a sequel to 'Padawan Jinn and the First Pathetic Life Form'. http://www.masterapprentice.org/archive/b/bs_padjinn.html
*thoughts/emphasis*
*Jinn-Kenobi Quarters, 425th floor, Jedi Temple, Coruscant
September 12, 24965
4:21 A.M.*
Obi-Wan Kenobi woke at a thoroughly unreasonable hour, with that 'it's a thoroughly unreasonable hour but there's something wrong and I'm not sure what and it might have been a dream or Qui-Gon's attempt at Alderaani curry but anyway I can't get back to sleep so I might as well get up and take a piss' feeling. The 'something wrong' immediately proved to be the lack of a six-foot Jedi master in their bed. Only the light shining under the door reassured Obi-Wan his master had not snuck down to the medical wing for industrial-strength antacid, leaving his padawan to suffer alone.
Yawning and scratching, Obi-Wan padded into the 'fresher to rid himself of the six glasses of water he'd drunk in a futile attempt to water down the curry after it was already burning holes in his stomach. Feeling better, he wandered into the brightly-lit common room, where Qui-Gon was at the table, sorting through a mound of holopics.
"What do you think of this one, Obi-Wan?" Qui-Gon held up a pic of himself cuddling a mangy, snarling palta cub.
"Er, it's nice." Obi-Wan barely glanced at the pic. His master was bright-eyed and distracted, and it looked as though he hadn't slept. It also looked as though he had upended his box of carefully sorted and filed holopics. With a distinct feeling of impending, inescapable, iniquitous doom, Obi-Wan spun around, eyes falling unerringly on the calendar.
September twelfth.
Oh gods.
"Padawan."
Pinned before he could even think of escaping. "Yes, Master?"
"You *will* be coming to the service, won't you?"
Oh gods oh gods oh gods. "Well, actually, Master, I had... this thing... with... you know... that guy from the chancellor's office... promised a tour of the temple... er... I guess I could reschedule--" Wait. That wasn't what he meant to say. "But I do have this test... in astrophysics! I'd need my master's permission to... cancel..." Shit. He'd never actually *caught* Qui-Gon waving his hand, but Obi-Wan was sure he was being mind-whammied -- although Qui-Gon's solemn expression of emotional vulnerability might be what was turning Obi-Wan's thoughts to mush. "Oh, Master. You know I'll be there."
"Thank you, Obi-Wan." Pathetic yet dignified gratitude. Obi-Wan would kill to know how he did it.
The funny thing about misery was that it loved company. Having promised his presence at noon in the Garden of Tempered Passion, Obi-Wan determined to make sure he would not be the only one.
They had no plan as such -- because the word 'plan' implied some sort of devious action, and suggested attendance to the service could only be garnered by coercion -- but after ten years together they could act with an unspoken, synchronized predation. Obi-Wan would move in first, distract the target... er, *invitee*, and engage him, her, or it in conversation while Qui-Gon stalked their prey from the other direction. And then... WHAM! Hit with that look of quiet dignity wrapped around fragile hope, they folded, stunned, and found themselves nodding foolishly, and saying of *course* they would be there, they wouldn't miss it for anything, they had been looking forward to it all year.
It was as beautiful as any predator's hunt.
"Bant! Hey, wait up."
"Oh, hey, Obi-Wan. Did you finish studying for your exam?"
"Er, yes. Listen, do you have plans for the rest of the day?"
"Not really. I was going to see if anyone wanted to spar, then go for a swim."
"I'm very pleased to hear that, Padawan Eerin."
"Eep! Master Jinn, you startled me!"
"If you have nothing significant planned, perhaps you would care to attend a small memorial service this afternoon?"
"Er... is it September already? Where does the time go? Speaking of time, I think I hear my master calling me-- Ow! You didn't have to pinch me, Obi-Wan. All right, all right, I'll go. Twit."
Not all the prey were as young and naive as Bant, however.
"Master Windu, could I have a word with you about your lecture on--"
Mace Windu's head came up like a whomp-rat sensing a landspeeder barreling down on him, and he glanced frantically around the refectory. "Not now, Kenobi. Very busy. Schedule an appointment for next week with... er... secretary. What's-his-name. Excuse me." He abandoned his half-eaten stack of flatcakes and bolted for the nearest lift, only to scramble backwards as the doors slid open. "Q-Qui-Gon."
"Mace. Up or down?" Qui-Gon smiled benignly.
Mace retreated, only to smack into the compact, solid form of Obi-Wan Kenobi, who nudged him none too gently into the lift.
And so the pack grew, not unlike a children's game where anyone caught became 'it' as well. Bant, sweet and seemingly innocuous, trapped Adi Gallia and her padawan, Siri Tachi, in the training salle. Mace rounded up both Depa Billaba and the elusive and canny Doctor Bolsine, and from there the infection tore through both the council chambers and the medical wing. Bant and Siri teamed up to ensnare the padawan ranks, and, in a stunning coup, held an entire eighth-level kata class until Qui-Gon could arrive with his puppy-eyed death blow.
And on it went.
The door to Yoda and Yaddle's apartment burst open, and a Jedi master who might -- under other circumstances -- be the very soul of dignity, dashed through. "Master!" he yelled, gasping, eyes darting all over the small room. "Master, you have to hide me."
"My padawan. Deaf I am not. Unnecessary shouting is."
"I don't have time for this, Master." Dooku ran a hand through his silver hair, leaving dishevelled spikes in its wake. "Do you know what today's date is? It's September the twelfth."
"Know this I do."
"Then help me! Send me on a mission. I'll go to Malastare. Tatooine. I'll go to Hoth! Force, stick me under the bed for all I care, just hide me."
"When eight-hundred years old you are..."
Dooku groaned and collapsed onto the couch.
"...learn when to surrender to the inevitable you will."
Dooku sat back up, staring at his wrinkled green former master in horror. "Oh no. He's gotten to you, hasn't he?"
Yoda sighed. "Hide in the closet you may."
Dooku cast a panicked glance at the closet door -- invitingly ajar -- and decided to take his chances with the balcony. Fourteen storeys wasn't really that far, after all. He bolted for the glass door. *I'm going to make it,* he thought. *I'm going to--*
Qui-Gon Jinn stepped around the corner. "Hello, Master. Fancy meeting you here."
Dooku skidded to a halt, then spun around. Yoda stood calmly in the center of the room, leaning on his gimmer stick as Mace Windu emerged from the closet, Adi Gallia from the 'fresher, and Depa and Bant from each of the bedrooms. Obi-Wan Kenobi leaned against the front door. "Traitor," Dooku hissed at his grand-padawan.
Obi-Wan smirked.
*The Garden of Tempered Passion
12:01 P.M.*
"Welcome, friends," Qui-Gon said. "As you all know, today is Galactic Pet Memorial Day. Today we gather to honour those innocent non-sentients who grace our lives with their selfless love and dedication." There was a snort somewhere from the back. "These creatures who, with their mere presence, can bring joy and laughter--" more snorting and a muffled cough -- "and even heal us with their gentle companionship."
"Somebody skewer me," Mace muttered from the third row.
Obi-Wan stifled a yawn, and ignored the sour looks from those around him. The garden was satisfyingly full, proportionately lessening Obi-Wan's misery. He smiled at Bant, who glared back, but hastily sobered his expression at Qui-Gon's hurt look. He couldn't understand how his master -- a strong, serene Jedi three-hundred and sixty-four days a year -- could turn into this soppy, sentimental wreck every September the twelfth.
"Before we begin, does anyone else have any departed non-sentient companions they would like to honour?" Qui-Gon glanced hopefully at the crowd. Grim silence met him, though there were several people who had lost pets. "No?" He selected a holopic from the large case next to the podium, and popped it into the enlarger. A fifteen-foot high hologram appeared behind him, and Obi-Wan recognized a very young Qui-Gon, holding an irate, half-grown tichako chick.
From the last row, Master Dooku sneezed.
"Chuffrey, though with us for only a short time, changed so many lives."
"Bit me that little bastard did," Yoda muttered.
"Orphaned at an early age, Chuffrey went on to bring happiness to so many children in the creche, before his mysterious death two weeks later."
"Didn't Master Farru flush the horrid thing?" Depa whispered to Adi.
"Yes. I was still in the creche that year. Miserable creature clogged up the toilet and flooded the playroom."
Obi-Wan settled back in his seat to wait for his master to wade through forty years of pathetic life forms, and tried to amuse himself counting the tics under Mace Windu's left eye.
*1:47 P.M.*
"... endangered species, and yet the Andogi continue to..."
*2:05 P.M.*
"... was a sweet and gentle slug, who never would have harmed a soul..."
*2:52 P.M.*
"... abandoned in an aircar station on Haxil Prime..."
*3:33 P.M.*
"... and though we will all miss Fluffy's adorable pout, Coruscant has no facilities suitable for a Rancor..."
*8:16 P.M.*
"Remember the mynocks!" Qui-Gon shouted, pacing and waving an arm.
Obi-Wan remembered them all right -- he remembered them colonizing the dresser and making nests out of his underwear. Never mind that Qui-Gon's underwear was in the same drawer; the little darlings only wanted Obi-Wan's.
"Cholly, Mimi, Wefta, and Bill! We will miss you." Qui-Gon laid another bunch of flowers on the overflowing heap and cleared his throat. "Thank you all for coming. It means a lot to me that so many of you chose to share this day with me."
There was no mad rush for the exits, but only because half the audience was asleep and the other half had no feeling in their lower limbs. Obi-Wan stood and stretched, then made his way up to the dais as everyone else limped out of the garden, throwing black looks at master and apprentice as they left.
"That was beautiful, Master." It wasn't a lie; Obi-Wan was sure it had been, for anyone who hadn't actually met the creatures being honoured.
"Thank you, Padawan." Qui-Gon pulled him into an embrace, and rested his chin on Obi-Wan's head.
"How about we go back to our quarters, and I'll make some tea while you have a nice, hot bath."
"Mmm. Sounds nice."
"I'll give you one of my massages--"
"One of your *special* massages?"
"Mm-hmm. And then..."
"Then?"
"If you don't know what follows a special massage by now, Qui-Gon Jinn..."
A low chuckle met this, then silence as they left the garden.
There was a box on their bed.
"I don't remember leaving this here," Qui-Gon muttered as he pulled off the note attached to the lid, revealing a set of holes. "*'Dear Qui-Gon.'* Oh, that's nice. It's from my master and Mace. Yoda and Bant signed it, too."
"What?" Obi-Wan snatched the note away, horrified. "'*Dear Qui-Gon, we know how hard this day is on you, so we all chipped in to get something for you -- and Obi-Wan, of course. Enjoy! Love, Dooku, Mace, Yoda, and Bant.'*"
Obi-Wan dropped the note, and it drifted to the floor with a forlorn swirl that was nonetheless triumphant.
The box on the bed twitched.
~Finis~