Title: BANT TALES I: The Meeting
Author: DBKate (DBKate2@aol.com)
Category: Tiny Tale
Rating: Pure PG (minor bar fight in part 2)
Spoilers: For all Jedi Apprentice books, and in the future, all
movies.
Archive: Anywhere is fine, please keep headers attached, and if you
can, drop me a note, just so I can admire. :-)
Feedback: It's wuvved and adored. Send to: dbkate2@aol.com
Summary: The first in a proposed series of short stories describing
scenes from the life of everyone's favorite Mon Calamarian Jedi . . . Bant!
======
BANT TALES I: The Meeting
======
The smell of fresh water stung the little girl's delicate nostrils and she grimaced. Her home world was composed of salt waters and sandy canals and there were few lakes or rivers to be found anywhere, except at the freezing poles. There was little life in the fresh waters of her world and certainly none of her species would be found living there.
Mon Calamarians were born into the salt laden seas and that's where they remained. To do otherwise would invite sickness and injury, not to mention eternal banishment from your family and fellows.
Bant always shuddered at that thought, the notion of being utterly alone, and it made the smell of the lake water surrounding her that much more unattractive. For a brief moment, she thought about her home, her mother and her siblings, and blinked back the pain of having little more of them besides memories.
On the day of her birth she'd been named after the youngest daughter of the moon goddess . . . supposedly the patron of inner peace. Her symbol was the t'arn reef, coral underwater creatures that could change their color at will, blending in when danger approached, flaring brightly when the tides changed their course.
Bant's Force sensitivity had been discovered rather late; her memories of her family were still clear, as was the memory of her home world. She missed it often; the land bound mass of Coruscant was strange to her, and while all efforts had been made within the Temple to recreate her natural environment, it still fell short of the vast seas and warm waters she remembered as an infant.
It was lonely too. She was the only one of her species at the Temple, except for the ancient Master Atcar. All the other initiates were land bound creatures, dominated by humans, and out of those, many were boys.
Big, bullying human boys.
At seven years of age, Bant learned how to hold her own among them, but had yet to make friends with any. This distressed her and she kept to herself more often than not, hoping the day would come soon when she'd get past the initiate stage onto a padawan, then, Force- willing, a Knight and making friends with these rough, mean human boys wouldn't matter that much anymore.
With a sigh, she knelt and dipped one long finger into the lake, watching the tiny circular ripples spread across the quiet water. A group of boys were playing on the other side, pushing and shoving one another, yelling in that hoarse, howling sort of way they always did.
Bant didn't pay much attention to them until she heard a particularly rough voice ring out, his yell rising above all the others.
"Hey Oafy-Wan! Want to learn how to swim?"
Bant looked up and peered across the lake, her mouth turning down at the corners with distaste.
The boy yelling so loudly was Bruck, Bruck Chan. He was the biggest and meanest of all the human boys, always picking on those smaller than he was. He ignored Bant for the most part; he'd swiftly learned that the creche masters didn't take kindly to him bullying a tiny female initiate, even one who was quite willing to defend herself.
"Come on, Oafy! Stop being such a baby! The water isn't *that* deep, you little coward."
Bant stood up and watched with astonishment, then with horror, as another human boy, one almost as small as she was, was dragged by Bruck to the edge of the lake. The boy kicked and struggled, but to no avail as Bruck picked him up, and with the help of the Force, flung him out into the middle of the deep water, laughing as the boy hit with a sharp splash.
The boy quickly rose to the surface, but then foundered helplessly and Bant's eyes grew huge as he struggled to stay above the water. Compared to Calamarians, all humans were clumsy swimmers, but it was obvious that this one didn't even know how to float.
She hesitated, not quite sure what to do. She looked over at Bruck and his friends, who were only pointing and laughing at the hapless boy, then glanced back at the Temple which suddenly seemed very far away. By the time she ran there and returned with help, the boy most likely would drown.
Shaking a little bit, Bant took off her robe, and closing her eyes, dove in. The fresh water was cold and it hurt, burning her delicate skin, but she swam on. She quickly reached the boy who was by now panicking, treading uselessly and taking in as much water as air into his lungs.
She reached for him but he was flailing desperately, furiously kicking and waving his arms, and Bant was forced back. She knew that humans, like most of their primate cousins throughout the galaxy, were very strong and dangerous when frightened. If she wasn't careful, he could injure her badly and then they both would drown.
Bant surfaced, held out an arm to him and yelled. "I'm here! Grab hold of me and I'll bring you in!"
There was no response besides a gurgling cry and again, the boy slipped beneath the surface.
Bant dove down, and with a single desperate lunge, she grabbed a handful of the boy's hair and dragged him back to the surface. His struggles were lessening and she was able to get an arm around his chest. She began the short swim back to land, making sure to keep his head well above water.
The boy grew heavy once they reached the shallows and it took a huge effort on Bant's part to haul him onto the pebbled shore. His face was a frightening shade of blue and Bant looked around desperately for help. Bruck and his friends were gone, probably run away after they'd seen what they'd done, she thought with disgust.
Trembling, she rolled the boy onto his side and began to pound on his back, hoping it would help. She was just about to give up and run to the Temple for a master when she heard a hiccupping cough, followed by a long series of panting, shuddering breaths.
She stopped pounding, leaned down and peered closely at the boy. The dull blue color was fading from his cheeks and he was turning a healthier shade of pink. A wash of relief flooded over Bant, followed by a short, warm burst of pride. She'd done it. She'd actually helped someone who was in trouble. The creche master would be so proud of her and she'd be able to tell everyone about her wonderful deed.
She knelt at the boy's side. "Hello," she said brightly. "Are you better now?"
The boy's eyes opened and he stared at Bant with a confused expression. Blinking, he struggled to sit up. "Yes. I . . . I think I'm better." He coughed again and knuckled his eyes. "What happened?"
It was Bant's turn to stare. "Don't you remember? Bruck Chan threw you into the water. And I . . . I . . ." Bant hesitated. The boy didn't remember what happened, the shock of nearly drowning must have affected his memory.
"He did?" The boy shook his head and rubbed his face. "But I don't know how to swim. How did I get out?"
The warm rush of pride deserted Bant and she suddenly felt shy. "Well," she stammered. "Um, I . . . I . . ."
He peered at her. "Did you pull me out?"
She looked down, embarrassed and wishing she could sink right through the shore. "Yes. But it was nothing." She scraped her finger lightly across the gritty sand. "You humans don't swim very well, do you?"
The boy frowned, then considered. "Well, some do, but I don't. What are you anyway? I've never seen anyone like you, except for Master Atcar. He looks a little like you, but all shriveled."
Bant snorted. "Of course he's all shriveled. He's three hundred years old. We're both Calamarians." She shivered and winced as the surrounding air grew cold and the fresh water residue was starting to burn her skin . . . badly. She got up and reached for her robe, then looked back at the human boy who was also starting to shiver.
With a sigh, she draped the robe over the boy's shoulders and reached out an arm to him. "My name's Bant."
The boy smiled at her and accepted her offer of assistance, his expression grateful as he rose. "My name is Obi-Wan." He blushed and scuffed his foot in the sand. "Thank you for pulling me out of the water." He shyly handed her back her robe. "Here. You keep this. You look colder than I feel."
She raised her chin and pushed it back at him. "Nope. You keep it. I'm fine."
He grinned at her and tossed it back. "No, you take it. I don't want it."
"No, you keep it." Bant laughed and took off running toward the Temple, suddenly feeling warm and happy again, the cold, burning water forgotten.
Her new friend stared after her for a moment, then took off behind her, chasing her, the robe clutched tightly in his hand, laughing almost as loudly as she was.
Almost.
=======
fini
======
BANT TALES II: A Night Out
======
The synthsilk sharet was light green in color and Bant fairly beamed as she peered at herself in the reflection glass. The shimmering shade complimented her pale salmon skin and was simply the perfect outfit to spend on her night out in.
A night out she didn't get very often, now that she was a padawan. Her master, while kind and goodhearted, was a work oriented fellow, one who definitely frowned on time idly spent. To him, recreation meant a textbook versus a technical manual, an instructional hologram versus hands-on training.
With a smile, Bant opened up a small compact and dabbed a bit more cosmetic "flous," a shimmering silver unguent, on her eyelids, forehead and cheeks. The make-up gave her a mysterious, decidedly feminine look, one that was difficult to obtain while wearing Jedi robes, when her face was covered with nothing but the damp sheen of exercise-derived perspiration.
Humming tunelessly as she fussed, Bant grew more pleased by the second. It was going to be a *wonderful* night, one where she would have total and complete freedom to do whatever she pleased.
Perhaps she would make some new and interesting friends outside of the Temple. At fifteen years old, her acquaintances had been limited to fellow initiates and padawans, and she couldn't help but wonder what she'd been missing.
It was a huge galaxy out there, there was so much to learn, and she couldn't wait to start.
The slight ping at her door, indicating a visitor, interrupted her reverie.
"Come in," she said, not bothering to ask who it was. If her intuition was correct, her visitor would come in whether she'd give him permission or not.
True to his nature, Obi-Wan Kenobi loped in, his cloak already half yanked off. He disentangled himself from the rest of it and tossed it aside before throwing himself into a chair. He hooked his leg over the chair's arm and leaned back, stretching carelessly.
"Don't be shy, Obi-Wan," said Bant, irony coloring her voice. "Please, make yourself at home."
He yawned and stretched again. "What a dreadful class Master Donal gives. How *anyone* make a weapons class boring is beyond me." He lazily rose and sauntered over to the cold'keep. Opened the door and peered inside. "Where do you keep your juice? Do you have any of those sandwiches your Master likes?" He pulled out a tall green bottle, uncorked it and sniffed at its contents tentatively. "What's this? Can I have it?"
Bant rolled her eyes. "Shall I answer your questions in order? If so, the answers are 'I don't drink fruit juice,' 'no, my master ate his lunch' and 'if you like drinking Ozterial intestinal enzymes, be my guest.'"
"Oh." Obi-Wan re-corked the bottle with a grimace. "Science experiment?"
"Something like that," she replied and returned to the reflection glass. Perhaps a little more make-up, she thought, as Obi-Wan wandered back into the main area and joined her.
His eyes narrowed. "Say, what exactly are you wearing?" He stepped closer and peered at her eyelids. "And what's this all over your face?" He grimaced. "It looks like you fell into a spark-spice pit."
Bant felt her back dorsal stiffen, a common Calamarian signal of extreme annoyance. "It's called make-up and I'll thank you to keep your unwanted opinions to yourself."
She turned away and busied herself with unfolding, then refolding, the hem of her new cloak. Men, she thought, biting back a frown. No matter what the species, they were all alike. . .
Annoying.
Obi-Wan blinked, then looked abashed. "Um ... well, I didn't mean ... um, well ..." He sighed. "I supposed what I really meant to say is that you don't need all that stuff on your face. I like you the way you usually are."
He gave her his best placating grin, but Bant wasn't impressed.
"Whatever," she grumbled. She glanced back in the mirror and wondered if he was right, but shook the thought away. It was *her* night out and *nobody* was going to ruin it for her.
Not even her so-called best friend.
Obi-Wan shifted uncomfortably and dug the toe of his boot against the metal floor. "So, where are you going?"
She feigned indifference. "I'm going to Mklarbo Den," she said airily. "And when that closes I'm going to the after-hours cantina near the Main Hangar and after that, wherever the Force takes me."
The fact was that Bant had no idea where she was going, but she'd heard a few of the other padawans mention those particular places and they sounded as good as any.
"Mklarbo's Den?" Obi-Wan gaped at her. "Cript's Cantina? Have you lost your mind? You can't go there! Those places are full of spacers and degenerates and Alterian dancers and . . . "
She put her hands on her hips. "Really? And how would you know all this?"
Obi-Wan turned bright red. "I just do," he mumbled.
"Humph. You just do." She adjusted her sharet. "Well, I just know that's where I'm going and I'm going to have a good time while I'm there too. So don't get any ideas in that fat human head of yours about stopping me, because it's not going to fly." She glared at him. "Got that?"
"Fine. You can go wherever you like. See if I care." He grabbed his cloak and yanked it on, not noticing that it was inside-out. "And don't you come crying to me later that you had a dreadful time and you're sorry you went, because I'm not going to care."
"And I'm not going to care if you don't care." She wriggled her nostrils at him, the Calamarian equivalent of sticking one's tongue out.
"And I don't care that you don't care that I ... oh, to Hells with it!" He stomped toward the door, pausing only to whirl around and stab a finger toward her. "And I do NOT have a fat head!"
"Oh yes, you DO!" she cried, but the door had already buzzed shut and Obi-Wan was long gone.
Bant took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Obi-Wan was a good friend, but he could be so ... so ... *superior* sometimes, she thought. She was an apprentice, just as trained as he was, and she was only two years his junior.
Besides, females of all species matured faster than males, that was a well-known *fact*.
With that thought in mind, she took one last, swift glance in the reflection glass before heading out the door.
=======
Bant had stood outside the cantina for what felt like hours,
debating whether to enter or not. She'd tried to get a glimpse
inside, but a huge door guard was blocking her view. She could
certainly hear the music, smell the heavy scent of various brandies
and smoldering tabacs and caught a brief glimpse of purple
rak' feathers bouncing by, no doubt part of some exotic dancer's
outfit.
It didn't seem like a good place for a lone Calamarian female, even one who was in training to be a Jedi. But Obi-Wan's words still stung and she was determined to prove to him who was in the wrong, even if she would just go inside for a minute, grab an embossed drink holder and leave.
The door guard glared at her. "Are you going to stand there all night or come in? Make up yer mind girlie, no loiterin' allowed."
Bant stiffened and lifted her chin. Wrapped her cloak tightly around her and strode past the guard, straight into the cantina, her head held high.
And was forced to duck exactly one-second later as a flying tray of drinks came within six helimeters of taking off the top of her head.
The sounds of raucous laughter boomed through the bar and a large humanoid tottered toward her, reeking of smoke and Cyrthian brandy.
Bant held herself as tall as possible, and swallowed hard. Drunks were her least favorite sort of creature, she'd met enough of them to know they weren't much fun at all.
The humanoid peered blearily at her. "Heya, Fishy. Wanna go fer a swim?"
Bant's temper immediately fired, but she forced herself to remain calm. "No, thank you," she replied icily and quickly sidestepped him in an attempt to make her getaway.
She wrapped her cloak more tightly around her as she squinted through the smoke, looking for the refreshment area. She was just going to buy one of those glasses that said "Crypt's Cantina" on it, bring it back to Temple and show it to Obi-Wan.
That would wipe the superior look off of his face, she thought smugly. She'd tell him she'd had a marvelous time and what a shame for him that he hadn't been there. Oh, and he'd gape and jaw at her, hemming and hawing and wouldn't she have the last laugh.
This pleasant thought so distracted her, she was only vaguely aware of the large band of spacers that had gathered to her left. They were a motley crew, consisting of at least six different species, ranging from a tiny, mangy-looking Ewok to a huge, heavily scarred T'wiak.
"Say, whattsa matter, Fishgirl? You don't like our friend over there?" The tallest one, a Kelsiant mercenary, pointed to the drunken man she'd just left behind and she could only gape at him in reply.
The Ewok chittered dangerously at her, showing rows of tiny, sharp teeth, and Bant hesitated. Her lightsaber was clipped onto the thin belt she'd hidden within the folds of her new dress, but she didn't want to pull it out.
Not if she had any other choice.
But the crowd of men around her thickened, and grew closer, their slurred taunts sounding louder and Bant swallowed drily.
Her choices had rapidly shrunk to a grand total of one.
The Kelsiant glared at her. "Yeah, what is the matter, you little . . ."
He never finished his sentence as a cloak-covered blur came flying overhead and landed squarely atop the T'waik, who yelped in pain as he hit the floor. The cantina quickly exploded into a mass of brawling bodies, all of them punching, biting, kicking and scratching and Bant did her best to avoid the limbs that were wildly flailing all around her.
The small human who had leapt into the crowd, the one who had started the brawl, caught Bant's eye just as the drunken humanoid lurched toward him, murder in his bleary eyes.
"Obi!" Bant cried, but it was too late.
A long arm swung out, caught Obi-Wan squarely in the eye and he hit the floor with a resounding "thud." She swooped over and covered her friend as best she could, hoping fervently that if anything were to land on them, it would be an Ewok, not a Wookie.
The bouncers pushed their way through the crowd and seconds later, the fight was over, and the brawlers were hauled away toward the cantina door, en masse.
Including Obi-Wan and Bant.
"And STAY out!" yelled the door guard as he unceremoniously dumped the unconscious Obi-Wan in the gutter. Bant quickly followed and tripped over her fallen friend, landing beside him right into a puddle of dubious origin.
Her new sharet was torn and stained, her make up was certainly a mess and poor Obi-Wan groaned as he slowly came back to consciousness.
"Oh, Obi," she sighed and with great effort, she brought both of them to their feet and together, they limped away, back toward the looming Jedi Temple.
=======
"Ow . . ."
"Hold still and it won't hurt as much."
Bant gently moved the cold pack away from Obi-Wan's battered nose, making sure it still covered his swollen eye. "You know, I could have handled it myself," she sighed. "You didn't have to leap in like that."
His good eye stared at her accusingly. "Yeah, right."
"I could have. I don't need "rescuing" Obi-Wan Kenobi." She looked at him sternly but her expression softened as she looked over the lumps and bruises he had taken for her. "But . . . I'm glad you were there anyway."
The single eyed closed. "Humph." Another groan, this one when he moved his arm. "The worst part of this will be telling Qui-Gon."
"Why? Will you get in trouble for following me?"
Obi-Wan snorted. "No. I'll get into trouble for losing the damn fight."
She made a small noise of surprise. "Oh. Well, we'll accentuate the positive then. How about if we increase their size by, oh, a few meters?"
"Or their numbers by about a dozen." He chuckled. "Say, can we turn the Ewok into a Wookie?"
"Well, they both *are* sort of furry," she replied doubtfully, as she picked up a wet cloth and wiped away a muddy smudge from Obi- Wan's cheek. "But will that really explain the bite mark on your knee?"
Obi-Wan grimaced horribly. "Not really." He sighed. "I suppose I'll just have to tell him the truth." He groaned again and struggled to sit up. "It's going to be a long, long week that's for sure. I just hope he doesn't make me take another "Defense Through Serenity" class with Master Donal. If that course was any more serene, I'd have died of boredom three times over."
Bant shook her head and gently pushed him back down onto the pallet. "No, I'll go tell Qui-Gon. It's all my fault anyway. You see . . ." She looked down at the floor and felt the heat of embarrassment fill her cheeks. "I really didn't want to into the cantina anyway. I was only in there to get a glass to prove to you that I had. It was stupid and selfish of me and I'm sorry Obi-Wan. I should have listened to you in the first place."
A smile slowly crept onto Obi-Wan's features. "Are you saying that I was right?"
Bant blinked. "No . . . I'm, uh, saying . . ."
"You're saying that I was RIGHT!" he howled, his pain obviously forgotten. "I can't believe it! Come on, say it again! Come on, Bant, say 'Obi-Wan, you were right."
"I said no such thing." She scowled fiercely at him. "I merely said I should have taken a portion of your advice into account. A *tiny* portion of it."
"She said I was *right*," he murmured dreamily to no one in particular. "I can't believe it, I actually lived to see the day and hear those words, straight from her mouth."
She glared at him. "How would you like another bruised eye?"
"You can do whatever you like, my friend," he said piously. "But that will nay change yon course of historie, for mine own ears hath heard the words thou does't now forsake and . . ."
"Oh, *do* shut up." She rose with a huff and the wet cloth hit Obi-Wan's forehead with a *splat.*
"Ow," he groaned, but she could see he was smiling, even as she made her way to the door and out into the hallway. It was her night out still, and she certainly had learned something, she thought dolefully as she made her way to Master Jinn's quarters.
Yes, tonight was a definite lesson . . . without a doubt.
=========
fini
This was posted on April 21, 2001.
© 2001 heather.lively@ns.sympatico.ca
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