Luncheon at the Races

co-written with Arrow and Rose07. Based on characters and scenario created by them and Jedi in Amber...

'You could go, I'm not going to jump off the platform. Or run away again. I promise.'

Mekel tried for a charming smile, but it felt flat and forced.

Lydie Korr just folded her hands on the table and gave him another Jedi look. A servomech came by to take their order. Mekel picked something random off the menu. His eyes scanned the bleacher seats above them that ringed the restaurant. There, it had been there...

Mekel tilted his head back. It was a rare clear day on Coruscant and the sun shone through the clouds, warm on their faces. "The sky's nice," he admitted again, closing his eyes. "Just wake me up when we win."

Lydie had finished ordering food. The servomech hovered, its eyestalks chiming a gentle tune in time to the clink of crystal around them. It turned to go --

'Wait,' Mekel said. 'I want to place a bet. Ninety credits. On blue for the win.'

The speeder track encircled the floating center like a planetary ring. The view wasn't as good here as it had been in the bleachers, but there were holoscreens broadcasting the race and flashing the ever-shifting odds. Ninety credits was all he had. Well, the fracking Council could pick up the tab if he lost. It was the least they could do.

'We're expecting one more,' Mekel added, glancing at Lydie's eyebrows, which might have moved another fraction of a centimeter. 'My mother will be joining us. She's late.'

As if on cue, there was a commotion over by the hostess.

Deeka Jin looked the same. She'd arranged a crown of feathers in her black hair for the occasion, and her metal dress violated groundside decency laws in at least eight different ways. The Twi'lek hostess appeared to be trying to convince her to put something more on. Mekel cleared his throat and stood up. 'It's okay,' he called out.

Moms looked over at him. 'Mekel, honeygizka!' Her dress clanked as she made her way across the floor attracting nervous glances like flies on sugar.

'Sir, there are standards --' began the hostess, disapproving, taking a dubious glance at his Onderonian riding leathers. Her eyes noticed Lydie, and she frowned. 'Oh. Master Jedi, are they -- with... you?'

'They seem to be,' the Zabrak murmured back. The hostess sniffed and went away.

Moms embraced him, in a press of cold metal and too much skin. Mekel tried not to flinch under the onslaught. 'You look prosperous,' she beamed.

'Siddown,' he told her, hating the way his voice slid back into the underground slur. 'So d'you, Moms. Doin' well?'

'Can't complain.' Her flat black eyes scanned his face and then moved past, focusing on Lydie. One carefully plucked and dyed green eyebrow arched. 'What happened to the brunette?' she asked, ever tactless.

Don't react, don't wince. Unclench your hand, sit back down at the table...

'He died.'

'I'm not sure if a Zabrak gives me any more hope for grandchildren.'

Do not Force choke your mother.

"Lydie Korr," Lydie supplied her name with a faint, enigmatic smile.

'Dustil and I weren't--and Lydie, she's not --'

A part of him really despised the whining tone of his voice.

'It's not my fault!'

'--The Council sent her,' Mekel continued, trying to make his voice cold again. 'To watch over me. You know, because they care.'

Deeka Jin sat down, tapping a long-nailed hand against the skin of her knee. 'I haven't heard from you in over a year, honeygizka, and here you are, looking prosperous... back in the bosom of the Jedi Temple. When you were with the Sith at least you wrote to me --what, are your new Jedi friends too good for your old Moms?'

Mekel made himself smile again. 'I need your help, Moms.'

'Not for nothing, you don't!' Deeka Jin sniffed indignantly. 'Nothin's free, sweetie.'

Mekel pulled the thin packet out of his vest and slid it across the table. "For your troubles." He really hoped she wouldn't open it in front of Lydie. "That's from Onderon. There's a Bothan there who wants to set up a courier service. That's a sample, straight from the Kessel mines. He's got a direct route, bypassing all tarriffs and he's looking for Coruscanti distribution."

Maybe Moms and Rak would kill each other and save him a galaxy of grief in the future. Maybe.

"Trade routes, I'm impressed." His mother curled her hand around the packet, weighing it in her palm. "Exchange takes a dim view of freelancers..."

"Then maybe Iggis will pay you more to turn the Bothan in," Mekel drawled. "Your call, Moms. Consider it a gift. His contact information is on a datachip inside, with the goods." He swallowed. "You can use my name. Tell Raks I sent you."

Whatever you decide, I'll be a dead man on Onderon. Rak's too dumb not to get fecked. But that doesn't matter. No matter what happens, I can't go back there. It's ruined now.

"What's the trade?" Moms looked almost approving.

"I need an introduction. You... still procure on Nar Shadda, right?"

"Sometimes, when we can find quality. The wars being over has dried up some of the desperate refugee trade."

Make yourself smile, don't remember Nar Shadda... and desperate refugees...

Master Yuthura motioned to Shardaan. With a snarl, the other boy slipped the pack he was carrying off his shoulders and handed it to Mekel. Mekel didn't have to ask any questions. He knew what to do --

Their food was here. Automatic, Mekel pushed his plate towards Moms. She ate first, that was an old rule. And he wasn't hungry anyways.

"What business do the Jedi have on Nar Shadda, Mekelkins?" The corners of Moms' eyes wrinkled now when she smiled this hard. That was new. So were her teeth.

"Not Jedi business. Mine. I need to meet some Hutts."

"Sort of a clannish species, they are. Your dancing used to be pretty bad, has all of that Jedi training improved it any?" His mother's black eyes flicked over him. "And you've lost the bloom in your cheeks, sweetie, I'm not sure they'd be interested in meeting you, now. You look a little rough for a Hutt's taste... but girlie, here. They might be interested in her... can you dance, pretty?" Deeka Jin's gaze focused on Lydie, expression thoughtful.

Mekel didn't think Lydie's eyebrows could go any higher. She gave a small shrug of her shoulders. "I never tried." Her voice was mild and untroubled, perfect Jedi façade.

"Just give me something I can use, Moms. To get my foot in the door."

"I can't be seen helping Jedi, son. Bad enough you brought one here to meet me. Don't think the underground doesn't have eyes above."

"I'm not a Jedi," Mekel stared past them at the racetrack. The speeders were looping, eighty laps around. Whizzing past in a blur of color: red, green, yellow, blue --

He thought of something. Risky. Stupid, but maybe it would work.

"I hear the Hutts on smuggler's moon have some powerful friends, these days. And new trade routes. To worlds... past the Hydian Way."

"Now what would an old schutta like me know about that?"

"Just enough to stay in the game, I'd suspect."

"You'll have to tell me more about yours, honeygizka."

Mekel made himself flush and stare at the table. "I want to go back, but they... don't look kindly on deserters. I'll need an introduction. Smart boy like me, with a connection to the Hutts... gives me some leverage. The Council's shipping me off to Nar Shadda... Lydie and I --" he prayed she wouldn't say anything to contradict him. Prayed to the Force she wouldn't say anything at all... "Lydie and I are gonna jump ship. Join the other side."

I have to include you, Mekel thought at her, willing the Iridonian to understand even though she couldn't hear him and he didn't dare let his face give anything away. If I don't include you, she won't tell me anything, not in front of a fracking Jedi Knight...

"Together?" Deeka Jin's green brows furrowed thoughtfully. Her pink mouth smiled.

Mekel sat up straight and put his arm around Lydie, praying she wouldn't flinch. She didn't.

I'm sorry, he thought.

"Better benefits that way," Lydie quipped. Mekel could have hugged her. Well he was... his arm tightened slightly around hers, pulling her closer...

Lydie Korr still smelled like flowers.

It was an abstract thought. Just an observation. His chin brushed the top of her hair. One of her horns almost scratched his skin. Almost at the same time, she pulled away and he jerked back.

His mother made a tshck noise with her tongue. "Attrition rates must be so high in the Order." She sighed. "I'm still not sure about the grandchildren. Tell me, dear, does your species breed with others? Or are you like Twi'leks and Cathar? I confess, not many Iridonians end up in my line of work, I don't have alot of experience with your kind... just as well, those horns look sharp."

'Oh.' Lydie stared for a second and then put her hand up over her mouth, like she had forgotten something. "I didn't scratch you anywhere, did I?" she said, looking at Mekel.

He couldn't stop the breath that came out a little too loud, but he could cut it off if he closed his mouth, made it hiss through his teeth.

"No-- I'm fine. I'm wonderful, actually." Mekel's lips pulled back and he tried for a smirk. But she was looking at him, eyes wide and blue and serene and he had to stare at the table again. 'Nowhere I didn't want you to, gorgeous.'

The last line would have been snappier maybe if he wasn't mumbling it into to the tabletop.

'Must be true love,' Moms commented. 'You've made my boy blush.' She smiled, predatory as a terentatek. 'Now about those grandchildren... if they look like you, dear, you should consider what sorts of opportunities we can find for them. What if they don't have the Force? There are other lines of work... and exotics... always fetch a high price...'

If he closed his eyes maybe this would all be a bad dream and Mekel Jin would wake up on Onderon.

'I'll let you know when we start trying,' Lydie Korr said sweetly.

Deeka chuckled.

"Moms, give me something I can use," Mekel snapped. He stared past them again. Red and blue were tied neck and neck. The odds flashing on the holoscreen had them in a dead heat.

Come on, blue...

'Duca,' Moms offered. 'They're the most powerful syndicate. We've done a few deals. If you told them you were working for me...'

'No.' Word came out too fast. Too angry. 'Not Duca, I don't... want that much attention.' His voice was too loud, suddenly.

'Remind Duca they work for Rahne. Not the other way around.'

He laughed. Dead laugh. As dead as he was.

Duca would never do, Mekel didn't want that kind of attention, didn't want to get that close.

'A-a smaller syndicate would be better. Where we can get our bearings. One thing Lord Malak taught me was --' He'd said that name louder than he meant to. Mekel felt the stares of the other diners glance his way, curious. He forced himself to keep talking. 'The most powerful fall the hardest. I don't want to go through that again, Moms. I want to make my own way.'

'Just like your old Moms, eh?' She reached out a hand and ruffled his hair. Mekel stared at her, ignoring the sentiment. It was fake anyways. Fake as those new white teeth in her mouth.

'Bukks,' Moms offered, thoughtful. 'Krag the Hutt is old, and not very influential but he has connections.'

Mekel didn't care about connections.

'Old?' he kept his voice casual. Old Hutts had a lot of health problems. Their spines fused as they aged. Arthritis, gout, maybe even bedsores... Old Hutts were in continual pain. Suffering.

'That works,' he said evenly.

'Bukks used to procure for me. The best girls. Cream of the crop...' Moms' eyes grew dreamy. 'Back in the old days...'

Her freckled face was dirty, feral, starving. Mekel understood that. He understood her.

He turned his back and walked away, pressing through the crowd of useless dregs that were already stampeding to take whatever they could.

Moms was still talking, telling Lydie some story about the old days.

'-- and the CoruSec took one look at those big dark eyes and just let him go. Eight years old! I was so proud... I never expected my honeygizka to be so useful. Of course he left for the Sith before he could start working the trade, you understand. It was a shame, I'd already lined up a few interested --'

Mekel's blind wash of anger frightened him. He took a deep breath, ignoring the Zabrak's questioning blue eyes, focusing past both of them on the race.

Red was winning. He watched the speeders lap around the track, so fast that they blurred. He just watched them; he'd gotten what he came for and that was all that mattered.

'--and good luck, honeygizka. If you do well, don't forget your old Moms.'

She was leaving now. That was probably just as well. Mekel was afraid of what he'd do if Deeka Jin kept talking. She got up with a clank and kissed his cheek. 'I hope you pick a better Master this time around, dearie.'

'--Bye, Moms.'

Mekel closed his eyes so he didn't have to watch her leave. His hand slid away from Lydie and he counted to ten. To thirty. Silence at the table, roar of the crowd around them. Announcer's voice...

'--in an upset it's Blue 64 for first! Red 90 second. Yellow 42 third! Final odds tallied, three to one, trifecta pays triple play. Players can collect at the kiosks installed near the exit of each platform. The Coruscant Gaming Commission thanks you for your time and wishes --'

'Mekel?' Lydie's voice was soft. He felt her hand brush his arm.

He opened his eyes.

'Your speeder won, I think.'

'Not mine.' He didn't bother to explain.

This entry deserves some explanaition, and some credits. Inspiration and dialogue from Arrow and Rose, indeed, pretty much co-written by, and referencing backstories from. Also of cuorse, the creator of the RP, Jedi in Amber. It's a slice from the Onderon RP, part 2, and as such probably references many things outside of the narrative that might not make sense...