Dude, Where's My Speeder?

[Ben Merasska]

The Knightfall sat, comfortably nestled in the hangar of the huge ship called the Whaladon. Around it the deck was 'cleared' for some feet; hoversleds overloaded with various parts and tools sat around, two panels leaned up against a landing strut, the wiring underneath barely visible in the darkening light. Outside the circle of parts and hoversleds, a ring of shuttles and transports sat, some with their loading ramps down and decorated with cloth and fabric archways.

The hangar appealed to Ben for the most part, as it resembled more a crowded and busy bazaar than a hangar bay for ships that could enter hyperspace. Most of the time, he could ignore the fact that he was on a ship of Rebels and Jedi, which would undoubtedly get him killed. The ships in the hangar were spaced apart enough that they could be worked on and take off without disturbing the other ships and people around, but close enough that they could fit as many within the hangar as possible.

"Curse your sudden but inevitable betrayal!" Ben cried, moving the Nerf away from the Rancor, only to have the Rancor jump on the Nerf and proceed to tear into it. He dropped the toys and looked seriously at the other two occupants of the freighter at the moment. "And that's how it went."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr sat across from the pilot-turned-storyteller, his hand pilfering into an oversized bag of crisps that rested on his lap, periodically delivering a few up to his mouth as he played captive audience to Ben's story. An ear quirked up at what seemed to be the end of that phase of the story, and his brow knit.

"What, no happy endjing? Starr-crrossed love transcendjing jintrra-specjies anjimosjity?"

He scratched at the back of his head, tossing a look to the other member of the audience.

"Bummerr."

[Ben Merasska]

"Well, I could do that I suppose, but then it would lose its 'realistic' genre designation," Ben replied, noting that the Cizerack once again seemed only slightly buzzed to his well past tipsy. None of them were drunk, per se, but Ben had gotten close. "Since they talk, its already pushing the boundaries. The whole...you know, romance thing, well, that would..."

He stopped and hung his head.

"That's a good idea. I'm just not good with romance. Stories. Romantic stories."

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie laughed.

"Oh, please. Ben, you really do try, but...' She snerked, knocking back another gulp of whatever-it-was. "...why do you have to make up things? C'mon, you know the best stuff is the real stuff. You an' I have been through so much together. It's gotta be gold, some of it, right?"

She returned the look that Cirr gave her and smiled a little fondly before turning her attentions back to her longtime friend.

"Think about it, Ben Merasska. No way could some tall tale beat the lives we've led!" She took another gulp. "If you don't, I swear I will and I'll make it as embarrassing as I can, you know I will."

[Cirrsseeto Quez]

Cirr said nothing during the exchange, simply conveying another handful of crisps to his mouth as the tips of his ears turned up, all the cue anyone needed to see that he was listening intently.

He paused, wiping a hand on his work pants.

"That's usually how jit jis. Trruth jis strrangerr than fjictjion. Especjially on a smuggljing bjit."

He flashed a bit of understanding in his expression, and gestured with a clawed hand.

"C'mon Ben. Let's have jit. Sorrdjid explojits aplenty!"

[Ben Merasska]

Ben fidgeted in his seat, filling his shot glass with their alcohol of the night (he couldn't quite make out the label), and downing it quickly.

"We did have a lot... lot of adventures, didn't we?" he said, looking down at the stiff figures of Nerf and Rancor. "I mean, there was that time on Dantooine when I let the krath hounds loose and we had to round them up with some steak tied to the end of a speeder."

Ben poured and downed another shot.

"Or the time when you fixed up some off... officer's shuttle right an' shiny only he'd gotten used to it being all wonky so he nearly crashed into the hangar deck trying to get handle on it... ha ha ha... when... when he tried... ha ha ha... to leave."

Ben laughed some more, only settling down to pour another glass of the brown coloured alcohol.

"Or when we decided that Altink needed to get laid, so we hooked him up with one of the women from the scanner and communications stations..." Ben lost his ability to speak due to his laughter, calming down enough to get the rest out in a gasping voice. "Only when she found out how old he was, she got so mad at us... she said she had standards and that there was a limit to how much younger the guys could be. He'd gotten her shirt undone and open before she asked him how old he was."

He snorted and stamped his foot.

"Me an' Lyanie are standin' there, while Massie's just lecturing us on how she wouldn't be able to look herself in the eye if she'd gone through with 'corrupting the poor young boy'. Her shirt was open the whole time! Lyanie had to smack me in the head to remind me to look her in the face."

He started to continue his list, prepared to down another shot, but found the bottle was empty. He emptied it of its last few drops and knocked it back.

"Why is the..." he peered at the bottle, "..rum always gone?"

He glanced back up at them apologetically.

"Sorry, but if I start tellin' tales about the old days I'm going to need another bottle." He grimaced. "Time's supposed make it stop hurtin'. But all that's happened is now it's more like an ache that won't go away, you know?"

He stood up, and made his way to the liquor cabinet in the galley, plunking the empty rum bottle next to an empty bottle of 'moonshine' and a tall thin bottle of some fermented drink hat sounded a little like vodak, or something weird. He pulled another bottle of rum from the cabinet and winced.

"Gah." He said when he'd safely deposited himself in the seat and opened the bottle. "Runnin' low again."

He carefully poured himself and his two friends some rum and leaned back to let the most recent shot settle in his system, a grin on his face, though his eyes looked droopy.

"You... y'all look good together," he said sleepily. "It's good you guys got each other now."

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie shifted in her seat a little at Ben’s compliment and stole another glance at Cirr. He wasn’t the definition of what most human girls considered ‘good looking’ by a long shot, but she wasn’t ‘most human girls’ and she saw what they wouldn’t: a heart and a handsome, if different, face.

“Thanks, Ben.” She said with the utmost seriousness in her voice. Her eyes vaguely threatened to get misty under the pull of the drink, so she stuck her nose into it as she took oversized gulps to finish it off, following that up with plunking the tumbler down in front of Ben.

“Rum, please, o barkeep!” She declared. She eyed him with fixation, just to keep an eye on him and to be sure that he wasn’t going to spill. Then her face lit like a light went on over her head. She scuttled forward on her seat and crossed her arms, leaning on what was the best approximation of a table and stuck a finger in Ben’s face.

“Say, do you remember that time…” She nipped at her lip, sniggering a little at the thought. “…do you remember when you thought your speeder got nicked?”

[Ben Merasska]

Ben's eyebrows pulled together as he frowned and thought deeply for a few moments. It was easy to see when he remembered, as his entire expression lit up: his eyes widened and his brows shot up to his hairline, and his mouth dropped open into a long, easy smile.

"Oh yeeeaaaaahh!" he gasped. "Only it had been nicked. Just not by anyone I would have ever expected."


***


It was morning, and Ben woke with one of the most devastating hangovers in his admittedly short existence.

"Guh," he said, and then said it again for emphasis after a moment. "Guh."

He staggered out of his bed and to the fresher, and after searching in the med sconce, found some painkillers and down them with some water. For good measure, he splashed his face with cold water to further dash the fuzziness from his brain.

A few more staggers from the fresher brought him into the common room of the tiny little house, and he surveyed it with eyes of someone whom had suffered short-term amnesia.

The entire place was a mess. Cushions on the couch were across the room in what he could only surmise was the destroyed remains of a cushion-fort; little cups and tissues were spread across the room in a manner beyond his ken; and there were more than a few empty bottles laying around. The kitchen wasn't any better.

On the counter was a note, written sloppily, but still legible: Thanks for the love last night, flyboy! Everything was amazing. Especially your surprise. See you tomorrow. Kiera

A kiss had been pressed to the flimsi beneath the note.

He grunted, his eyebrows shooting up to his hairline, and he looked around, noting the large amount of garbage spilling from the disposal unit.

Suddenly, he remembered something.

"Lyanie!" he called, before grabbing his head in pain. "Gah. Not doing that again."

[Lyanie Quez]

Muffled sounds came out from under the decimated cushion-fort, where a pair of feet and the starting of calves poked out one side of the soft, once-structure. After several grunts, pushing and the pile of cushions flying apart, the head of Lyanie Quez emerged from the mass.

“Agreed.” She moaned, slapping both hands over eyes before dragging them through her wildly unkempt hair. She could only imagine what she looked like. “Oh, gods, Ben. Whatever you do, don’t look. Please don’t look, I’m a wreck right now.”

As if it were a monumental effort, she took several long moments to free herself completely of the cushions and made a haphazard attempt to stand, where upon completion the world rushed to her head and she wobbled, tripped and fell, thankfully, into the safety of the cushions, her trouserless, oversized-shirt-covered behind rather pointedly sticking up in the air.

“I’m fine. I’m fiiiiiiiiine.” She insisted, her face squashed against the pile of cushions. “Please. Don’t. Look.”

She managed after another moment to push herself over onto her back and sit up, where she cast a bleary gaze around the room, half-desparately looking for her trousers or anything of that ilk to put over the bottom half of herself that was miraculously covered by a rather oversized shirt that it only dawned on her in that immediate moment that she was wearing.

“Damn it. Where are my clothes?” She sighed, shrugged, then used momentum to bring herself to her feet, stumbling about for a second, but finally becoming stable on this second attempt at uprightness. The shirt went down to her knees and she wondered for a half-a-second just where or for a better assumption whom she had taken it from.

“Caf. Need caf.” And thus begun the hungover zombie shuffle to seek out the blessed substance. “Bennnnnnn. Help find caf.”

[Ben Merasska]

Ben grunted and turned to the counter within the kitchen, where he was still standing, and pushed a large pile of cheap plastoid cups and throwaway plates off the counter and onto the floor.

Behind it all was a caf-machine. Ben pressed a button and watched as a humming filled the room.

"Caf's bein' made, Lyanie," he called. "You like sweeteners and stuff in it, right? Nerf-milk?"

He opened the conservator and blinked. A within sat a pair of trousers, folded perfectly between the nerf-milk and a bowl of green-leafed salad. He blinked and frowned.

"I think I found your trousers," he said, taking the nerf-milk from the conservator and closing the door.

[Lyanie Quez]

“Oh, you did? Thank goodness. I was beginnin’ to think they’d up and wandered off all their own.”

She stifled a huge yawn and rubbed at her face as she padded into the kitchen with bare feet lightly smacking on the cool floor, the prior night's events beginning to come clear from the haze in her head.

Oh, yes. Other question. Caf question.

“Sweet’ners, nerf-milk, you bet.”

She scratched at her scalp, feeling decidedly icky and in need of a shower. And caf. After that, she might even feel like consuming some food! Lyanie turned to Ben, a quizzical look on her face.

“Where’d you say my trousers got to?”

[Ben Merasska]

"They're in there," he said groggily, pointing at the conservator, and turning around, forgetting Lyanie's pleas to not look. He was still focused on the note.

"I don't remember anything from last night," Ben said with frown. He waved his hand, Kiera's flimsi note fluttering wildly. "Do you?"

Before Lyanie could answer, there was a loud knocking at the door.

Ben walked out to answer the door, and Lyanie followed, using Ben's lack of attention to pull on her trousers.

"Hello?" Ben asked, squinting as undiluted sunlight hit his face and exacerbated his head-ache. A man stood at the door with a package.

"Ben Merasska and Lyanie Quez?" Ben and Lyanie nodded. "This is for you. On behalf of the Corres Brothers of the Corres Brothers' Family Fun Smashball and More Arcade, we extend our utmost congratulations for your excellent showing last night."

He stopped, and presented Ben with the package, nodding and smiling widely. His smile drooped as Ben stared at him blankly, and made no move to grab it. He glanced confusedly at Lyanie, and then positioned Ben's hands to hold onto the package himself, before nodding awkwardly and leaving.

"Lyanie, I honestly cannot move, or my head is going to explode," Ben murmured quietly. "Can you close the door?"

[Lyanie Quez]

Frak, if this ain’t the coldest pairra trousers I ever had the pleasure of wearin’.

Lyanie looked up at the open doorway as she attempted to walk, pull up and fasten her trousers at the same time. On one hand, the feeling was nice – she was warmed to the point of a sweat under all those cushions and the conservator-chilled trousers were a welcome reprieve - but on the other hand, cold was rarely desirable up against the nethers. It caused her to pull at the crotch of the trousers and her walk was accented with the vaguest touch of a waddle as the trousers slowly became warmed by her own skin.

“Sure…” She called, a little too loudly for her head and wincing in a measure of regret immediately afterwards, opting to lower her voice for the rest of it. “…sure, I’ll get it.”

Her eyes flicked to the doorway again, just to be certain the invasive and too-cheery owner of the voice that had graced their presence briefly had left. Lyanie tugged at the trousers one final time before finally being assured that the chill had fled them, then made the rest of her way to the door and slowly, gently, clicked it shut, breathing what could be best measured as a sigh of relief when she did and locked the door. She scratched at her head, the feeling of post-bender yuck having not abated in the least and looked at Ben, confusion flashing up on her face.

“What is it?” She groaned.

[Ben Merasska]

"It's a... datapad," Ben answered, opening the package and looking at it curiously, and thumbing the device on. Before he could read it, the comm alert rang.

"Ow," he hummed, wincing and pulling the device from a sconce in the wall. "Hey, Kiera."

"Ben. I'm glad you're up. Is Lyanie all right?"

He glanced over at Lyanie, who was pulling an icicle from one trouser leg.

"Yeah."

"Oh, good. Well, I hope you enjoyed yourself last night. Are you ready for the main event tonight?"

She smiled, and Ben found himself at a loss for words.

"Sure," he said, finally. "I mean, of course I am."

"I'll see you then!"

Kiera's figure flickered out, and Ben replaced the device.

"Lyanie, where can I buy something for Kiera?"

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie watched her bestie take the call, a vaguely amused but largely satisfied smile finding its way on to her face. It still escaped her sometimes how Ben had ultimately gained the attentions of such a pretty thing like Keira, but she put it down to his character, in the end. Ben was, overall, a good guy.

"Um, well... what kinda thing?" She queried, padding her way back to the kitchenette. "You got any ideas?"

Once in the kitchenette again, she sought out the caf, pouring and fixing herself a mug.

[Ben Merasska]

What kinda thing? Ben had no idea.

"Uh, I don't know," he answered, finally feeling the painkillers starting to take effect. "What do you think a girl would like?"

He stopped, and thought about his statement.

"Uh, what Kiera would like," Ben shrugged. All of this had come out of deep space with no transmission. He had been "seeing" Kiera, but their relationship was still new and a bit odd for the almost terminal bachelor that Ben had been for all his life. He was very unsure of himself.

"She's Corellian, so..." he paused. "But she's a girl. Jewelry?"

He powered down the datapad, whatever it was now unimportant compared to the question he was now faced with.

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie took a desire-invoking sniff of the caf, which caused an overly delighted smile to blossom on her face, prior to taking the first gulp, which elicited a pleasured something between a moan and a grunt.

"No jewelry. Too early."

The girl from Dantooine left the kitchenette once again, this time with the highly-sought-after mug of caf in her hands. She watched her friend's facial expressions and body movements as he dealt with the question he was now attempting to answer.

"What is it Keira does, again?"

[Ben Merasska]

"Uh," Ben drawled, before shrugging. "I don't know. She might have said something before but I was... ah... distracted."

He coughed.

"Well, we have some time. Are you alive enough to help me find something for her? We'll take my speeder."

He clapped his hands once and rubbed them together, feeling pretty good about the plan. Then he frowned and sniffed.

"...After I clean up and wash off," he amended. "Whoo! I smell horrible."

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie savoured another long drag from the stimulant called caf.

“After I finish this…” She held the mug up a little. “…and get myself cleaned up and purtied too, ‘cause believe you me, I stank and stunk and stink, then yes, then I’ll be alive enough.”

She cracked a smile, one that she partly regretted for how it jabbed into her skull.

“If it were me, you wouldn’t even be asking anyone what to buy. Anything from a pretty dress to a bottle of liver-torture to a sonic screwdriver would do.”

[Ben Merasska]

Ben didn't take long in the 'fresher; despite the fact he nearly fell asleep on his feet three times, he woke himself in time to keep from falling.

Fifteen minutes later, Ben was staring out at the street, a confused frown on his face.

"Dude," he said to Lyanie. "Where's my speeder?"

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie's brow furrowed as she squinted at the spot that Ben's speeder should have been occupying.

"Where's your speeder, dude?"

She rubbed at her eyes, as the sun caused them to be in a state of quasi-soreness... well, at least exacerbating the existent dull ache caused by other means that was slowly, perhaps too slowly fading away.

"Sorry... um..."

The engineer and mechanic chewed at the inside of her cheek, briefly. Her eyes slid over to her friend.

"...I don't know?"

[Ben Merasska]

Ben looked both ways down the avenue, and then back at the spot where he'd normally parked his speeder, as if it had been hidden by a simple trick of the mind, but no; the speeder was still gone.

Ben grunted in confusion.

"Well, shit," he said. His stomach growled lowly, and he sighed, looking over at Lyanie. "Are you hungry too? Maybe we'll think of something while we eat."

[Lyanie Quez]

Lyanie's face visibly brightened at the mere mention of food. Her stomach was well enough after the previous night to manage a few bites, what with having showered and having gotten caf into her body and clean clothes on it, to boot.

"Yep, that's about the best plan, next to brewing the caf, that I've heard all... morning?" She peered up at the sky. "Nope, definitely not morning."

She frowned, and looked back over at Ben.

"Well, my brain will work better with some fuel, so let's get a move on, yeah?"