The Force of Magic [Star Wars SI]

[Vyraco]

Eh, Dooku was always a prime example for sliding down the slippery slope of the path of good intentions directly to hell. He started out as a noble (pun not intended) man who got embittered by life, but he sure ended up a megalomaniacal cartoon villain.

 

[Xx_BoneIdle_xX]

"Count, the plan failed," the gray-skinned Twi'lek said, turning to his patron.

"It's no disaster, H'aris," the former Jedi replied with a smile.

Click to shrink...

Did you mean Kh'aris Fenn ? Strange that in this case it was Dooku's plan instead of Kh'aris...

 

[Boroda Orka]

There were plenty of cantinas around the spaceport, catering to every budget and every purpose. We picked a respectable place where we could get something to eat and drink while watching pretty girls dance. There was even a warning posted by the entrance: the dancers were there to be looked at, not touched.

That was precisely why we'd come in. I wanted to satisfy an aesthetic hunger, not lust. And the prospect of watching civilized sentients lose their minds to base instincts didn't exactly fill me with enthusiasm.

The place was a little noisy, to be honest. Sentients of all sorts of species sat at the tables. Some were eating, others were simply drinking and watching the stage, where three Twi'lek girls were proving to the universe that when it came to erotic appeal and grace of movement, they were second to none.

I rented us a private booth with a personal dancer. She also doubled as our drink-pourer and waitress. That little luxury cost me a whole hundred credits!!! And let me tell you, that was a very, very substantial sum. And that was before food and drinks.

At first, there was a minor misunderstanding. I sat down at the table on the little couch, while my guys spread out into the corners. For a few seconds I stared at the mercenaries in confusion, until it finally dawned on me that they were doing their jobs as bodyguards.

Then came a long round of persuading the fighters to join me at the table. I'd simply feel awkward eating while three pairs of hungry eyes stared at me. I seriously doubted I could relax and enjoy myself like that. Somehow, I managed to convince the stubborn Mando to have two of them alternate guard duty: one fighter by the door, two at the table. We even drew straws to decide which of the three could drink alcohol. A very pleased Romri won—she was getting a proper night off today.

While we discussed how the late dinner was going to work, the Twi'lek girl waited patiently off to the side with her eyes lowered. But the moment we finally settled around the table—except for the Gungan, who took up position by the door—and decided to order, she was instantly all attention.

---

What can I say? Exquisite. Absolutely sublime. No, I'm not talking about the food—it was decent enough, but Shmi cooks better. But our Twi'lek's dance... that was something else. Grace bordering on the divine. Sexuality off the charts. Fluidity right at the limit of what should be possible for a mortal body. The girl wasn't merely dancing: she flowed from one pose into the next, graceful, wholly committed, and clearly reveling in what she was doing. And it wasn't only her body that danced. All of her did—even her glances and facial expressions were part of the dance. Coy flashes of smoldering, passionate eyes from beneath her brows, a lightly bitten lip, a teasing smile—and then, in the next moment, fear, shyness, innocence, modesty, all of it melting into searing flirtation.

By the ten-minute mark, we looked downright hilarious. The Gungan had clearly discovered the world of xenophilia and was somehow both on guard duty and in a trance at the same time. The Togruta, judging by the twitching tips of her fingers, her glassy stare, and the way her face occasionally turned an even deeper shade of red, had wandered into the happy realm of same-sex love. As for Arvik and me... we'd melted into puddles on the couches and were simply enjoying ourselves, wearing matching idiot grins. And what else were we supposed to do? Touching her wasn't merely forbidden—it was frightening. Genuinely frightening. You might actually destroy the beauty the artist on that little stage was creating. She was making Art with a capital A, and reaching your grubby paws toward her would only vulgarize her genius.

At some point, the girl stepped down from the stage. With an alluring, irresistible gait, she circled behind me. I felt her breath on one shoulder, while delicate fingers settled on the other, sending a whole stampede of goosebumps racing down my back...

"Would sir like... anything else to drink?" a beautiful young voice asked, her fresh breath brushing against me.

A few seconds of silence—and all four of us simultaneously croaked out a hoarse "YES"!!!

The girl left the room, and we started exchanging looks. Even I felt a little embarrassed, while Romri had gone bright scarlet. The Gungan was looking anywhere but at us, and only Arvik wore the smug expression of a seasoned tomcat who'd kicked the asses of every rival in the neighborhood, fucked the prettiest kitty around, and polished off an entire tub of sour cream.

"I've watched Twi'leks dance plenty of times, and I still can't get used to it," he said, running a hand over the short bristles of his fair hair. "Don't get flustered, Red. Everyone reacts like that the first time. Twi'lek girls know how to... ahem... yeah. They know how."

"Hey!" the Togruta flared up at once, then immediately faltered. "I... yeah, Hutt damn it, that was genuinely incredible. Thanks, Boss."

"You're welcome," I said with a shrug, feeling how dry my throat had gotten. While watching the dance, we'd drained the entire pitcher of juice, and Romri had emptied her cocktail glass. "I'm not going to make you close your eyes just because I'm greedy."

"Uh, no," the Togruta said, shaking her head and making her lekku* sway. "Our last employer wouldn't have treated us to any of this, and he'd have sent us to stand outside, too."

"By rights, that's exactly what we should've done," Arvik grumbled. "Two outside, one inside. Boss, did you hire bodyguards or drinking buddies?"

"Mmm..." I drawled with a grin, blatantly looking the Togruta up and down. She stared at me in surprise for a second, then scowled threateningly. Arvik gave a quiet chuckle at the sight.

"See, Romri? I told you your skimpy outfit would land us an employer," the warrior said, easily dodging the nut she threw at his forehead and grinning.

"But seriously," I said, winking at the fuming Togruta before turning to the Mandalorian, "just imagine it: I've spent my entire life in this universe on Jabiim. In case you don't know, that's a world of endless rain. The locals see the sun once every few months."

"Good planet, though," Koit cut in, nodding sagely. "Climate suits me. But sun once every few months... that is little-little too much, maybe."

"And along with that weather," I continued, "you get powerful ion storms that completely cut off HoloNet communications. We keep in touch with the outside world through cargo ships that make use of rare breaks in the storm clouds."

The Twi'lek girl entered our room carrying another pitcher of juice and a fresh cocktail for Romri on a tray.

"Of course I'm interested in everything, Arvik. It's all new to me, understand? I hired you in part because I wanted to talk to sentients who've already traveled around the galaxy. Frankly, I was counting on you having plenty of interesting stories—for example, about your homeworlds, why you chose the free-blaster life, and all sorts of interesting twists and turns that happened in your lives. So, what about you, Red? Want to tell me about yourself? Whatever you can and whatever you want. If there's anything you'd rather not talk about, I'm not demanding it..."

"I get it," the girl said, baring her teeth in a grin as she took a sip from her fresh drink. "There's nothing especially terrible in my past. I can share. So listen up, and don't say nobody told you! The story of a brilliant pilot, a crack shot, and simply charming Togruta—Romri Tano!"

Though the Togruta had hammed it up at first, she quickly got into the story. She told us about her homeworld of Shili, located in the Expansion Region. About the beauty of its wilderness, its dangerous predators, and the life of the Togruta—not the easiest life, but hardly a terrible one. Romri realized early on that home felt too confining for her, and when her younger sister was taken away by a Jedi—an order she actually regarded quite favorably—she took off to wander the stars.

"Little Ahsoka showed me the road to the stars! Sure, I'm not Force-sensitive, but I've got nimble hands and a decent head on my shoulders," the slightly flushed girl said with a smile. "So I finished pilot training, spent some time flying freighters, and even worked for a small express-delivery company for a year before the Trade Federation swallowed it up. I didn't go work for them afterward—the people there are suuuuch skinflints..."

Romri was really getting into it, and she told the story wonderfully. With just the right amount of swearing, she cheerfully described the things that had happened in her life: the first time pirates boarded her ship, how the crew had somehow managed to fight them off, and her switch to mercenary work. She told us how she'd spent six months grinding through a private bodyguard course and taught herself programming on her own. She poked fun at the sentients she'd met along the way with a light touch that never felt mean, and she didn't spare herself either. I even pointed the Twi'lek girl toward the couch so she could sit down for a while and give her legs a rest. The dancer was clearly awkward about it at first, but after some time she was openly smiling at yet another funny story from the Togruta.

"And that was where, on the smugglers' moon, I met these two. Some guy there was hiring everyone hanging around the cantinas waiting for work. He was putting together an anti-boarding team for a single run. We got talking along the way, and the guys seemed decent enough, even despite this buckethead's tediousness and the long-eared one's constant 'though.' We've been knocking around together ever since, and without any false modesty I'll say this: if it weren't for me, these two would've definitely ended up as space bums."

"That hurt, though," the Gungan said with a cheerful grin. He had switched places with Arvik and took a sip of juice, while a quiet snort came from beneath the Mando's helmet by the door.

"That's how she justifies being greedy," the Mandalorian explained, amused. "But to be fair, yeah, she's the best of us when it comes to negotiating money."

"And why didn't you haggle with me?" I asked in surprise, glancing at the already tipsy Romri.

"Why bother? You offered decent credits, Boss," the girl said, waving her glass and spilling a little. "And you're very generous with loot. I'll tell you straight from the heart now, just don't take offense, okay? You actually overpaid by a fair bit. For Fett or Bane, of course, our combined six grand a month would be wupiupi money, but for ordinary bodyguard work you could've offered thirty or forty percent less. So, basically, you're a fine-looking man, generous—the way I like them—but inexperienced. Um..." The Togruta suddenly looked flustered, blushed a little deeper, and added, "Financially, I mean."

"You know..." I drawled, while Arvik covered his helmet visor with one hand. "That's the first time anyone's called me a sucker, even if only indirectly."

"Uh..." The girl's eyes darted around, then dropped to her glass. Apparently she remembered that I was paying for the table too, and she clearly became upset. "Sorry, Boss, that's not what I meant... I mean..."

"I get it, Romri. Relax," I snorted, scratching my beard. "I'm not going to take offense over something that trivial. I only crawled out of a deep hole fairly recently; I don't know the prices, and everything around me is new and unusual. You'll help me out, won't you? Be my Mentor, so to speak?"

I moved closer to the girl, who was staring down at the table, and gently took her hand in mine, trying to catch her eye.

"Of course, Bo—" the girl started, then froze as she realized just how close our faces were. The Togruta's cheeks rapidly deepened in color. "I'll help?" she almost whispered, somehow making it sound like a question.

"Thank you, Romri." I lifted the corners of my mouth, trying for a light, kind smile rather than my usual frightening grimace. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze, then returned to my seat under the girl's surprised gaze.

"What was that just now?" the Togruta asked after several seconds of silence, addressing the question somewhere into the air.

"You just volunteered to work as a financial consultant for free," Arvik snorted, then gave me a thumbs-up. "Beautiful work, Boss."

"I what?" The Togruta's eyes widened in astonishment, and she turned a stunned look on me. A couple of moments later, an accusing finger was pointed my way. "How could you, Boss? I'm supposed to be the greediest sentient in this room!"

"Boss-sa got you good," the Gungan said, saluting me with his glass of juice before turning his eyestalks toward the Twi'lek girl. "You have schools on Ryloth where they teach dancing like that?"

To be honest, all four of us, along with the dancer, stared at Koit in surprise. He took in our reaction and bared his teeth in a cheerful grin.

"Me? Nah. But when I find wife, I want her to learn little-little here. If my woman dances like that..." The long-eared Gungan made some gesture with his hands. I had no idea what it meant, but his expression was so eloquent that I'd bet good money it was something very, very obscene. "We make lots of little ones together, though..."

"Pervert," Romri snorted, finally getting back to normal. She did push the alcoholic cocktail away, though, and I made a mental note that simple fellow Koit had a surprisingly fine sense for the mood in a room.

After that, we talked about everything and nothing. The Gungan told us how he'd taken part in the war against the machines on Naboo, and how he'd left the army afterward.

"Naboo humans, I hate 'em," Koit said, waving his arms angrily. "Cowards and liars, all of them, though. Before Trade Federation brought their big doughnut with all those machines, they kept hiring mercenaries to fight us. But soon as their own asses caught fire—straight to Boss Nass they came running. Bowing, swearing eternal peace. Me, I don't believe them, though! I still went to fight. I'm no coward. But when we beat the machines, I went to Captain and told him straight: 'Captain Tarpals, I'm leaving! Mercenaries killed my father and grandfather! My brother lost an eye and an ear! I won't fight for Naboo humans, only for Gungans!' Roos Tarpals, he's proper officer. Clapped me on shoulder and says, 'I understand you, Koit. Go if you can't stomach it. At least you won't have to see that idiot Binks.'"

"Binks?" I'd read something about him, but hadn't thought it important.

"Ay." Koit waved both hands dismissively. "Shame of my race. Queen Annoydala's pet Gungan! I mean Amidala. Now she drags him everywhere with her: 'Lookit me, how civilized I am! Brought animal into Senate and everything.' Pah! Makes me sick, watching him shame my people!!!"

"Well, to be fair, the Naboo are helping the Gungans now, from what I've heard," the Togruta said cautiously, clearly afraid of offending him.

"Ay, Romri. Me, I don't believe it, though. They act honest little-little while, then start fooling us again! Gungans are like Boss-sa. We live by ourselves; big galaxy, we don't know. Anyone can come, lie however they like. We trust everyone—and shouldn't, though. Naboo is our planet. Plasma is our plasma. I don't believe Naboo humans pay fair!"

Our Gungan was pretty upset by then, so together we asked our Twi'lek girl to dance some more. By the way, she had grown quite comfortable around us and would occasionally add a comment of her own. Tentatively at first, then without nearly as much hesitation. Even so, she remained unfailingly respectful. A very pleasant little green girl.

This time she danced something cheerful and energetic. The Twi'lek's movements were every bit as graceful as before, and her figure just as lovely, but this dance stirred joy somewhere deep inside, put smiles on our faces, and sent energy bubbling through the body. It made you want to jump up and try something yourself. The only thing stopping me was the certainty that next to her I'd look like a drunken sailor who'd just been beaten senseless by a pack of wild martial-arts monks from the eastern continent of my world.

After the dance, the girl looked at me questioningly, flicked her eyes toward the couch where she had been sitting before, and, after receiving my nod, carefully sat down. Arvik even poured her some juice and pushed the glass toward her, which made the girl pale slightly and shrink back in alarm. Fortunately, she recovered quickly and, after shyly thanking the Mandalorian, took a small sip. She firmly refused any food because "it would get in the way of dancing," the beauty cooed with a sweet smile.

All in all, we had a great time. I definitely liked the guys. They were cheerful and clearly fond of one another as comrades. Arvik was a little pedantic, a commander who took his duties seriously. Koit was easygoing and simple, yet wise in his own way—able to smooth things over with a couple of words and take almost everything in stride, except Naboo humans and "that idiot Binks." Romri... Romri was very sweet. A volcano of positivity mixed fifty-fifty with a black hole of greed, which, incidentally, didn't spoil her in the slightest. The girl would never miss a chance to get what was hers, but you couldn't call her shameless about it either.

Before we left, I asked our Twi'lek girl to perform something really special. Unfortunately, she misunderstood me. I was even a little taken aback when her lips began to tremble pitifully and so much hurt and disappointment appeared in her eyes...

For the first time in many, many years, I found myself stumbling over my words as I explained that I hadn't meant anything like that—I'd simply wanted her to perform something that would make us go, "Whoa, that was awesome." I suspect I'll be dreaming about the relieved smile that appeared on her face for the next couple of days.

Then she actually apologized, which only made me feel even more awkward, while Romri looked at me as though I'd just decided to enslave every Twi'lek in the galaxy at once. Even the Mandalorian's helmet somehow seemed to be staring at me reproachfully through its visor.

And the Twi'lek gave us a farewell dance. First she fastened a collar around her neck with a long chain attached to it—light, slender, but strong. She threaded the chain through a ring on the stage, then wrapped the free end once around her palm and gripped it in her hand.

The chain lay slack across the floor as the girl began to move. At first the dance was free and carefree: broad, fluid motions, eagerness on her face, a bright, happy smile, and eyes shining with joy. But every few seconds, without breaking the rhythm, she wound the chain once more around her hand. One loop at a time. And then, in the middle of another movement light as air, the taut chain brought her up short. The jerk looked so violent, and we were so absorbed in the dance, that all of us flinched—and the Togruta even cried out.

At that moment, the rhythm of the dance changed. Her movements became jerky, bringing to mind a bird caught in a snare. The girl seemed to struggle for freedom, but the chain kept growing shorter and shorter. There was no joy or lightness left in the dance now, only frantic attempts to break free. Panic filled her face, fear showed in her eyes, and her lips parted in a silent scream. More and more often, notes of pleading crept into her movements, a wordless plea for help. But with every moment, she had less and less freedom left.

The chain kept winding around her palm, and the Twi'lek sank lower and lower. Those same beautiful movements now portrayed her attempts to rise from her knees, but it ended with the dancer frozen in a kneeling pose. A pose of absolute submission.

And her eyes—hope had vanished from them, giving way to a slave's resignation and a grief blacker than the darkness of space.

It was so powerful that I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. The Mandalorian by the door was gripping his blaster in his right hand, his helmet tucked into the crook of his left arm. The muscles in his cheeks were working, betraying the anger he felt—not at the girl, but at whoever had taken away her spirit and freedom. A sniff from Romri drew my attention. She was sitting turned away from everyone, wiping something from her face. Even Koit looked lost...

"Just don't tell anyone I danced that for you," the Twi'lek suddenly said as she unfastened the collar. "We're not allowed to show it to guests."

For several seconds I simply looked at her in silence, then nodded and asked only, "What is it called?" Once again, a veil of sadness passed over the girl's eyes, and a sorrowful smile touched her lips.

"Free Ryloth. This dance is called Free Ryloth, sir."

---

Author's Note:

*Togruta have lekku and montrals on their heads. Montrals grow upward; lekku grow downward. (Short version, without going into detail.)

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Original Russian story

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The translation is still in progress, and new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.