Looking for the Heart of Saturday Night

[Captain Hekimi]

The Crystal Lounge was open for business.

Sanctuary One was growing at a rapid pace. It had begun with nearly 200 Jedi, most of them children, and the 50 members of his crew. Since then, even more Jedi had arrived. And while his crew had dissipated, they were replaced by small army of construction and humanitarian workers that had since joined the swelling population. Some were Alliance military, members of the corps of engineers. Some were members of the Cizerack humanitarian mission. Others were civilians, independent contractors hired by the government. Still others were lone entrepreneurs and laborers, drawn to Ossus by the allure of being involved, even if peripherally, in the reformulation of the Jedi Order. Whoever they were, they were here on Ossus and, for the most part, they were working their asses off.

For all the modern advances in the civilized galaxy, Sanctuary One was still a frontier town. The power generators were prone to malfunctioning and blackouts and rolling brownouts were common. A new, permanent power station was scheduled for construction, but not for another few months. Food was relatively scarce - mostly military rations, supplemented by whatever game the hunting parties could bring down and whatever nuts, berries, and herbs could be foraged. Crops had been planted, but Ossus' hard, red soil was unforgiving and much of the spring crops was stunted and twisted. Housing was available, but simple and without frills, whether it be tents, military barracks, or the modular CLL dwellings. Entertainment was extremely limited, as the only link to the HoloNet was through the Whaladon's transmitter and through military channels, but none of that precious bandwidth was available for frivolities. On top of all of that, travel beyond Sanctuary One and the relative safety of the gap in the hills was extremely dangerous, thanks to the native tribes of Ysanna and native fauna. Add it all up and you had a rising population penned up in a tiny settlement, working hard and with few opportunities to let off steam.

Growing pains were a hell of a thing. It would take men of vision to help this town get through them. Men like him.

[Captain Hekimi]

Hekimi, formerly "Captain" Hekimi saw opportunity here. Years spent working hard and living frugally had left him with a substantial savings. Much of that savings was now tied up in his current venture. He had abruptly ended his career with the Rebel Alliance with the news that his ship was being permanently grounded and decided to make his life here, on Ossus. It was a risk, but he didn't feel that it was much of one. True, he had never owned a business that didn't involve hauling crap from one planet to another, but he was confident that he could give the people of Sanctuary One what they needed.

He had purchased a plot of land in the Alliance portion of town, at the crossroads between the town's east-west road (the "Jedi Road"), and the north-south road (the "Rebel Road"). It was a good location, right in the heart of the area where most of the civilian workers were housed. Unlike many of the prefabricated buildings that made up the settlement, Hekimi's venture required something customized. The contractors he had hired were good and a building sprang up on the plot like a weed. In a month, the empty pieces of land was home to Ossus's newest cantina, a counter-point to the dour joint on the other side of town. It was a modestly-sized, two-story structure. The exterior walls presented a series of wide, rounded blind arches, supported by thick columns. The building was topped by bright red clay tiles, making it stand out like a beacon among its neighbors. Signs were mounted on the north and east walls reading, in simple, block letters "The Crystal Lounge."

A door on the north wall allowed entry to the interior, which was kept low lit and cool and presently housed a blue-skinned Toydarian. Hekimi sat at one of the stools at the bar, looking out over the floor, empty at this hour. The bar extended along the west wall. It was a heavy, wooden structure, constructed of timber imported from his native Toydaria where it was reclaimed from its many swamps. The bar was stocked with a wide variety of alcoholic beverages from some of the major planets of the known galaxy. The shelves behind it glittered with glassware glowing under a gentle purple light.

The first floor was open, with few interior walls interrupting the voluminous interior. A handful of booths lined the north and south walls, but the majority of the seating was at the bar itself or at one of the small tables scattered about the floor. All of the seating, whether the stools at the bar, the booths, or the chairs at the tables, was simple and uncushioned. The walls, for the time being, were unadorned.

In addition to the promise of booze and good company, Hekimi attempted to draw in clientele with the promise of entertainment. The eastern end of the floor was dominated by a circular, raised stage, a little over 5 meters in diameter. Most nights, the stage was occupied by a quartet of construction workers, all of whom were skilled musicians. They called themselves The Sweaty Gungans. It was a ridiculous name, but they were good enough to cover most of the popular jizz and sparkle-bop tunes and were a hit with the crowds. Hekimi provided them with a modest wage and all the alcohol they wanted which, thankfully, wasn't much. He promised an improved light set-up for the stage some time in the near future. For now, they were lit with the same simple yellowish lights that were mounted above the booths and tables.

Every 6th night, however, The Sweaty Gungans had the night off. Those nights, like tonight, it was fight night. It had all begun a week after opening, when the Gungans' drummer was too sick to play. They say music has charms to soothe the savage beast, and it was certainly proven that night. Without the band playing, the energy in the place seemed to crackle and his patrons seemed tense after along day's work. Fueled by alcohol, more than one conversation degraded into a loud argument. Finally, even that avenue of communication broke down and the first punch was thrown when a human by the name of Patrik tried to lay out another human, named Cobin. Even though Cobin was a smaller guy, he had a wiry toughness and refused to go down. After stumbling for a moment, came back at the larger Patrik with a series of wild crosses. Their fellow patrons, instead of breaking up the fight, formed a tight circle around the two and cheered them on. It took his security chief, Mac, and half of the rest of his small staff to break them up and toss the offenders out on their asses. They closed early that night.

Still, Hekimi was, if nothing else, adaptable. Clearly there was excess stress and energy pent up in these workers. Some days, it could be let out gently, through good-natured comradery while listening to the a cover band do their thing. Other nights, however, it had to burst out violently, by uppercutting a guy who pissed you off and then maybe buying him a drink afterwards so you could work together the next day. Rather than resist it with a no tolerance policy and beefed-up security, Hekimi went with the current. He didn't stop the fights -- he sanctioned them. The only rules were that no weapons were allowed on the premises; if either of the combatants went limp or tapped out, the fight was over; and if any fighter killed his opponent, that fighter was liable for the funeral costs. It was highly unlikely that the last rule would ever need to be enforced, but he posted it anyway, along with the other two, on the east wall, in easy to read size and in several languages. Fights now occurred on the raised stage, with Mac standing at the ready with a stun baton if things got out of control. The way he saw it, fights were going to happen no matter what. He was simply providing a relatively controlled environment in which they could occur. If he happened to make a profit from the spectators, who seemed to spend twice as much on fight nights and tip better to boot, and if he happened to take a cut of the wagers they made on the fight, so be it.

[Captain Hekimi]

Hekimi scrubbed quickly at the bar with a damp cloth, working on a streak of some sticky liquid that had solidified over night. His staff was late. Again. No matter, they'd be here soon enough. More concerning to him was this goo. He'd been the one that closed last night, so he had no one to blame but himself for the mess.

He kept at it for a few minutes, the squeaking filling the empty room. By chance, the Toydarian looked up at the timepiece and noticed the time. It was a few minutes past the time when the first shift workers generally got off and every minute wasted was credits lost. Reinvigorated by a good night's sleep, he felt like he could take on anything tonight. Hekimi reluctantly gave up on the soiled section or the bar, tucked the rag under his belt, and fluttered towards the front door, where he found a pair of regulars already waiting outside. Occasionally one of the more...open minded Jedi would drop by. Once or twice, he'd even served a Cizerack soldier, though they were a rare site after hours, having been whipped into shape by their diminutive commander. These two, however, were Alliance, like the majority of his patrons. Members of a crew working on the new medical facilities, if he remembered correctly.

With a friendly greeting, he invited them inside and propped the outer door open.

[Korlen Tarask]

The medical building is going up nicely, the outer walls are drywalled and coated in weatherproofing sealant. The siding for the project is a mixture of large square utilitarian duracrete-look, and sheets of a composite that looks like horizontal slats of warm wood. It's going to be the nicest building on the planet once it's done. Hell, even half finished it's the nicest. We are just waiting on a shipment of giant transparisteel windows for the lower floor to frame the front entrance. The smaller ones have been installed already all over the building, but the first set delivered for the entrance were the wrong size and had to be sent back.

I had taken a shower after my shift, and decided to stop by the new cantina, the Crystal Lounge, for dinner. Anything is better than the mess hall, which I guess is the next project after the hospital. A proper cafeteria for the Jedi. In my opinion they need a proper chef, first. I step inside the cantina and let my eyes adjust to the interior light before making a beeline to the bar. "I'll have a Corellian red ale, if you've got it."

[Captain Hekimi]

The newcomer settled in a few seats away from the first two. Hekimi recalled seeing the man around camp before, but didn't know his name. He was another of the nameless horde of laborers working on the new medical center. But that was before, when he was just a fellow inhabitant of Sanctuary One. Now he was a customer. Hekimi slid a coaster in front of him as he fluttered to a stop in front of the man.

"Welcome to The Crystal Lounge. No Corellian red, I'm afraid. We do have an amber though, if you want to give that a shot. Arrived on a transport just two days ago and I just tapped it this morning."

[Serena Laran]

Serena stood outside the cantina for a minute, and then stepped inside, her cream colored robes lightly touching the floor as she walked. She went immediately to the bar. "I need to speak with the owner of this establishment." Cantinas were one thing. Cantinas that held bare knuckle brawling on an established schedule was another. She'd heard of Captain Hekimi's rules, and the council was not appreciative of the allowance for the fighters to kill each other.

The bartender gaped at her a bit, and she fixed him with a cool stare. "Immediately, if you please."

[Captain Hekimi]

Hekimi's mouth was open before he realized it. On the list of Jedi he expected to make their way over to his place, Serena Laran was on the very bottom. He consciously brought the corners of the open mouth up into a smile. Spending several years in relatively tight quarters with the Jedi had, perhaps, left him with too familiar an attitude towards them. It also meant these kind of unexpected meetings were a pleasant diversion to which he always looked forward.

"Of course, it would be a pleasure. Would you like to join me in my office?"

He was halfway out from the back of the bar when he remembered that his workers still hadn't arrived. And while he didn't exactly *not* trust the three men presently sitting at the bar to behave themselves while he was upstairs, there was no telling who else might walk through those front doors.

"Perhaps, a table would be ok?" he said, gesturing to one that was far enough away from the bar that their conversation wouldn't be overheard by the three at the bar unless they were trying to eavesdrop. "Karlo, Bir'n," he addressed the two regulars, "the new guy's in charge until I get back."

He casually tossed the rag hanging from his belt onto the bar. "Oh, where are my manners? Would you care for anything to drink, Ms. Laran? On the house, of course."

[Serena Laran]

She shook her head. "No, that is all right. I will not be here long." Serena followed the Toydarian to the table he indicated, taking a careful seat. "The Council was under the impression that this site had been earmarked for a cantina." She looked at Hekimi. "Not a no-rules fighting ring."

[Korlen Tarask]

I am slightly upset at the lack of a red, but then another sort of red walks into the bar. Council member and Jedi Master Laran. Someone told me she was in her fifties, but I find that hard to reconcile with how she looks. Well put together. Stop thinking about that stuff with her standing right there, idiot.

The Toydarian tosses a rag on the bar and ushers the Jedi out of earshot, and I belatedly realize he's put me in charge. What sort of cantina was this? I stand up and lean over the bar, pouring myself a pint from the tap. I turn to the regulars. "Do they have good food here?"

They look at each other, and then at me, one of them grinning. "No food."

I frown, pouring off the frothy head in my glass and filling it to the top before sitting back down. "That is...unexpected."

[Captain Hekimi]

"No rules? Why, Ms. Laran, you wound me. We have three very clear rules. First, no weapons allowed on the premises. Slugthrowers, blasters, blades, even the lightsabers you jedi use. None of it. Second, the fight is over if anyone in the ring goes limp or gives up. And if a fighter kills their opponent, they have to pay for the funeral."

[Serena Laran]

"The Jedi cannot allow you to run a fight night where the fighters could willingly murder each other for the mere cost of a funeral. There are consequences for killing here, and additional consequences for facilitating such deaths." Serena looked at the former captain sternly. "There are non-Jedi in Sanctuary One, and we understand that this is not a monastery. We do not expect everyone to abide by try Jedi code, but there are things we will not tolerate, and this is one of them."

She softened a little, regarding Hekimi. "You sheltered us for a long time, Captain. We have not forgotten, and I am sorry that the Whaladon was decommissioned. If you can rework your 'contests'..." her voice trailed off. The Council wanted to work with the Toydarian, but obviously had to take a hard line against sanctioning fights to the death in their village.

[Captain Hekimi]

Hekimi slumped back in his chair, clutching at his chest theatrically.

"Why, Miss Laran, you wound me again. I don't know what tales have reached your ears, but this is not a venue for fighting to the death. Why would I ever condone such a thing? A dead customer is a non-paying customer. Very bad for business, that. I have my man standing by to step in if things get out of control."

"But the body is a fragile thing. A blow to the head in just the right spot could end a person. Some species are weak in other areas that one would not expect. Death is not the goal, of course, but what if the unthinkable happens? The third rule is simply for piece of mind. Fighters must know that, if there is a horrible accident, they will be taken care of and that their families will not be burdened with the cost of a funeral."

[Serena Laran]

She was unmoved by his response. "Then implement standard shockboxing rules and referees. You cannot simply just throw two people into a ring and let them bash each other in the head until one falls down. If there is a horrible accident it is Sanctuary One and the Jedi who will be expected to heal up the injured. An 'accidental' death would carry with it an investigation and possible legal charges brought against the fighter, your establishment, and you yourself."

[Captain Hekimi]

"So to make things safer, you wish for me to add electrified gloves?"

Hekimi sat up a little straighter and placed his hands carefully on the table. "My dear, you Jedi have extraordinary talents, I have seen these myself, including the ability to control your feelings. You can see when your base urges are telling you to do one thing and silence them. These emotions that roil deep inside all of us, you can calm them. I know these things are true. I have witnessed the classes; I have heard the instructions."

He gestured behind Serena to the bar and the men sitting at it. "But we normal people, we cannot do this. These men and women, they are the common folk. They are the ones who prepare your food, who construct your buildings, who maintain these buildings and the machinery you depend on every day. They dig ditches and sit hunched over glowing screens all day. Their lives are dull and repetitive and often seem pointless. And all of this time, they have emotions and frustrations that build up inside."

"Now, much like the steam in a sealed pot, these things must be vented or they will explode. It was not my intent to allow fighting when I opened this establishment. But it is an inevitability. They will fight. If not here, then somewhere else. Some will fight another to settle a dispute from earlier in the day. Some will fight because they enjoy the fame and praise from their peers when they win. Some will fight just because they enjoy fighting. Here, they can do it in a controlled environment, where no one steps into the ring unless he or she wishes to."

[Serena Laran]

Serena resented the implication that the Jedi simply lived on the backs of Hekimi's so-called common folks. The Jedi cooked and cleaned, planted crops, learned maintenance of new systems, provided healing for those who needed it. She pushed it down and dismissed the feeling, to be addressed at a different time. "You are free to conduct your business as you please, Hekimi. But you will change the nature of these contests, or take your business to another location.

"The Alliance base, perhaps?" She smiled faintly.

[Captain Hekimi]

Hekimi stumbled for a fraction of second with the realization that this was an argument that he wasn't going to win. In the end, the Jedi decided what went on in this settlement.

"I cannot simply move my establishment on a whim. However, as always, Miss Laran, you make an excellent point. We will work on changing the nature of these fights to be more to your liking. It is not my intention to cause any strife between us."

He regarded the woman across from him for a moment.

"Would you care to stay for tonight's matches? I think you may be pleasantly surprised. Your drinks, of course, are gratis."

[Serena Laran]

"I have other matters which require my attention, unfortunately." She smiled, and he smiled, relief coming off of him in waves. He was not, however, off the hook. "I will send another in my place to take advantage of your hospitality. I thank you for your understanding, Captain Hekimi."

Serena stood, adjusting her robes, and shook the Toydarian's hand. "Have a profitable day."