Rite of the Past: Pink & Blue

[Injah Bas]

Rite of the Past:
Pink & Blue

ZELTROS - From outer space, the planet looked like a bowl of candy vomit. There was no Galactic Empire blockade. There were no Alliance marked ships on active duty. There was only free space to roam, soar and play.

Pheromones filled the Northern Province streets, canals, and steps. Pink and voluptuous idled with the broad shouldered on sidewalks. Their clothes were tight - tighter than friends keeping a secret: crop tops, mini-dress, skirts, see-thru blouses, leggings, high-waisted pants and more in blinding bright hues, or dark hides & strange fabrics. Conservative travelers awed at the liberal display of skin. Arms, bellies, legs, backs, thighs, cleavage and nearly everything else got to see the sun. Wine and ale also saw the sun. If your eyes weren't working, you'd smell the two with your nose. Spilled drinks and goblets sat at stoops or gutters. Cheer blared like a horn down the streets. Music blasted over the rejoice. Bodies rocked in dances through the streets. Parade floats and holo-giants were in the image of the newly elected monarch. What tailed behind were speeders marked in Aurebesh: happy smoochas (Happy Smoochas!!). So, it was impressive that Injah Bas, your favorite Old Republic Jedi, was plopped in a slump on a stoop asleep with beads on his neck and near-empty bottle of Naiana (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Naiana). A blue lipstick kiss marked his cheek. Last night's blowout noisemaker hung from his gaped gab. This made the Zeltros City police cadet's cap on his head seem normal.

What was also impressive was no one swindled him. On another land, in another part of space - or just about any other world - he'd been stripped naked. For goodness sakes, the baby faced 59 year old still had his Jedi relic at his waist. No passerby even gave a double-take. Why wouldn't they? Well, here, on the Paradise Planet, his state was a compliment to the natives. They served up the party, and he appeared pleased. Folks walked pass with knowing smiles. Couples giggled. Elders nodded and gazed off, remembering. Young ones pointed before being hoisted on their parents shoulders. Crowds had formed with their backs to him; thousands came for the procession. Although the election's results were announced a week prior, the festivities remained in full swing. The merriment spread. Reports read officials who lost even joined in the glee. Night clubs and conventions hosted balls with the elected parties reps after ceremonies were scheduled before dusk. However, this was the apex. Off-worlders traveled far and wide to rejoice in the change in guard, only for the booze, girls (or men, or both) and hot hand at the casinos. News-feeds were filled with articles, such as:

How Much Do You Know About the New Queen?

or

Can You Name Five Zeltros' Rulers?

O, how those travelers were made to look stupid.

Still, they came. Far and wide, to watch. However, only one person came for the Jedi. Another was also dragged along. The culprits were Leyna & Seff. And, here's the shocker: Leyna was the one dragged along. See, the night before the Jedi was accused of fornication with a local bar back, two wax statues, four lamp poles, twin singers, and a mailbox. This accuser was his embarrassed pilot comrade. In accordance with their agreement, she was only required to fly him to Zeltros. Employment didn't require chaperoning. However, she cared. And, she hated that.

Plus, Seff wanted to enjoy more Zeltron girls and festivities.

There was a splash of cup water. Injah shot up. He rumbled awake. His head shook. He looked left, right, and up.

"No teeth, no teeth," he screamed. Two shadows were cast on him. Through the shadows he squinted and found the familiar features.

"Oh, hello my colleagues," he mustered a mangled smile.

[Injah Bas]

The blocks on the streets were sticky. Yet, Leyna's disgusted face wasn't about that. It was because her employer became a burpy blob. There he slumped, hand high, waving, dumb, and dumb-founding: How was he possible? The thought riddled her mind as she crossed her arms. Behind her the sun shone and turned her into a black shadow over him. Air puffed from her flared nostrils. He heard the huff. He ignored it. And, he reached for the rail to lift himself up. He missed. That arm flailed like an abstract painter's without the brush.

A dignified groan and squinted gaze back at the shadowy figure forecast his next words: "M'ladies, may you help an elderly man in need?" Silence met his request. But, he replied back with a cheeky smile. Finally, one of the two shadows huffed and extended an arm. He reached back and was pulled.

Injah hobbled to his feet. "Congrats," he stretched his back and brushed imagined dust off his rear. "Ya now are officially half-way decent person." His arms stretched out, standing on his tippy-toes and let the aching morning grunt. When his heels went flat, he rubbed his eyes while stepping down from the stoop. Injah parted the two shadows, stood in the middle, opened his eyes to the grumbling Leyna. He turned his head back at Seff. Her eyes were elsewhere; she'd been gawking a girl's bubbly butt that just walked by. If Injah was anymore coherent, he would follow suite.

"Ay, Seff, whats the matter witcha sis?"

Seff shrugged her shoulders, absently, "Idontknow." before tapping him. "Hey, listen," she started, without looking back. "I'll be right back, ok you two?" Before she got an ok, she was gone, in hot pursuit. Injah stood there, watching as the vacationing Spira's security guard went to procure some Zeltros' oats. A smirk let a ha escape only to his throat, as he pocketed his hands, oblivious to the pilot who was steaming beside him.

"What in the frackin' frell are you laughing about, you piece of s--"

Injah hand covered her mouth. "Hey, hey, now. There are mini-Zelly's here" He held his hand over her mouth a second longer. Children walked by. Others looked over their shoulders as their parents guided them away. Injah eyed the crazed woman. What stared back were the eyes of a feral beast; an animal, the only reason Injah yanked his hand back was because she licked it. Yeah, licked his palm, to free his gab up for more:

"And, another thing," she yelled over his exclaiming yuck and wagging his wet hand like it'd been jammed by a door. Nothing he said could reach the volume of her raspy bark's. His, "what the frell was that?" fell on deafened ears (passerbys and her included) as she hollered, "I'm not your damn baby sitter. How old are you again?! Guess idiocy ages like Zeltros wine. Humping everything you see! Ev-ery damn-thing! What is wrong with you?"

Out the side of Injah's dead eyes, he could see somebody lifting their datapad to record this. Whenever anyone reached this point of disregard, he often looked for the invisible camera to look at. Yet, there was no telling if there was a price on his head; he wasn't stupid enough to look at a camera, no matter how many times Leyna called him stupid. Instead, he just looked back with his low lids, waiting for her to stop.

Which wasn't going to be anytime soon.

"I had to stand by while you gulped away. And you know who was given the tab? Not you! Me! Me! "

[Injah Bas]

The parade started. Noise makers were churned. Bands marched down the path. Trumpets blew. Cheers followed. Smacking kissy sounds peppered the crowd. Hands were held. Then, held up together, as floats hovered by. Mammoth holograms decorated the streets. Speeders crawled by flanked with colorful faces. Models waved at the audience. Barricades kept the clamoring at bay. Officers re-enforced walk paths. Men in military uniforms also walked by. Blasters in hand. They stopped in unison and shot up. More cheers followed. The cacophony of glee filled the sector as Seff was somewhere feeling some girl's elbow.

Underneath the joyous yells was muffled holler.

"Get back here!"

Injah had walked away. His eyes rolled with him. They circled his sockets like a bowling ball. His hands were stuffed away in his pocket. He was cool, casual, collected and drifting away. The complete opposite of his pilot. She followed suit, green skinned but damn near blue in the face from screaming at him so much. She stomped in full pursuit, as he strolled opposite of the foot traffic. Her hand rose above the cluster, demanding his attention. Although he could hear the shrill in her scold, Injah only offered a shake of the head in condolence as he kept onward. While people flew pass him, he calmly side stepped and shifted his shoulders, cutting between the flow of bodies. Leyna wasn't so lucky. She was too focused. Bodies banged against her as she pointed for him to get back.

She pushed and shoved her way on. "I said, get back here!"

Injah called back at her without looking over his shoulder. "Are you sure you said that. I couldn't hear you!"

Everyone could hear them. They could hear each one of his words were wet with dismissive sarcasm. Most of those who glanced over simply thought it was a lover quarrel. Which, honestly, it could be. Well, if they hadn't met only weeks before. See, time wasn't a great measure of relationships. Some people found a way to charm and open hearts within moments. Others possessed an uncanny ability to irk a lovely lady within less time. There was the minute-man, woman often complained about after a night out.

Then, there was the asshole.

Although most along his long illustrious journey wouldn't claim Injah was an asshole per se, few would call him anything else. She barked again: "When I get my hands on you--"

"--You're gunna hug me? Aww." Injah hadn't looked back yet, but his voice projected over the crowd. There was no telling where he was heading. But, he continued down the block, he'd be ever closer to the hotel they were all suppose to stay in the night before.

[Injah Bas]

Most of the city streets were filled. Even as Injah turned, there was more people coming his way. Everywhere was a reminder of the day. The parade called everyone's cheer and merriment. Zeltros was renown for such festive mood, but today was even moreso than normal. Still, the crowd did die down the further Injah strolled. He moved at his own pace. He was careful to dodge families, tourist, frat & sorority groups flowing on the sidewalk.

Behind him, Leyna wasn't so observant. She'd bump shoulders. She'd grumble. She'd call out. He'd ignore. Along the path were buildings. Large business buildings that housed number of companies. Each floor was designated to a different millionare's empire or department of some organization. Yet, the windows revealed little to no workers. Doors were wide open with only security to detail as employees spilled out into the streets. Injah barely took note of them. His eyes were trained on the only building not designated for work; at least not the clerical kind.

Yet, the building was just as tall - if not taller - than most of the neighboring company fortresses. It was their hotel. The words "Za'in Za" were scribed above the enormous hotel's doors. He walked up to it, eyeing the glass windows up on the 40th floor. Many more suites were up above, but he saw where he had barely laid the night before. There was a party hat still dangling from the suite's balcony. The balcony was still marked with some lady's bra too. Injah would have smiled if his face was not too busy contorting from the beaming sunlight glare bouncing off the glass. His hand cupped above his eyes to block it and he walked in.

A droid greeted him with one of those welcoming phrases, but he waved him off. Although he was masking it with a casualness, Injah had a hangover that made everything boom. Especially when it was one tone being shouted out at him. You know that quiet void created by a throbbing headache? Yeah, not good for not-so-inside voices. See, there was no one else really in the lobby. Most people were out or deep within the conclaves of their paid rooms, up to devil knows what. Plus, he was in a rush. The quicker he could shoot up back up to the room, the quicker he could resolve what was next to be done. There was a few belongings of his he wanted to gather up before Leyna began blackmailing him with them - and it wasn't the bra.

"Yes, yes," he waved again at the droid as it continued dropping more customary hospitable lines like:

Hope you enjoy your stay, or

Is there anything that I may get for you Mr. [Insert Name Here]

With a stumbling turn, he walked out the lobby, into the hall, and clicked a button waiting for the elevator. Who knew how far back Leyna was, but he pressed again, just to remind the elevator he was not trying to get strangled.

[Injah Bas]

Beep.

The lift doors opened. He entered. He turned. He leaned against the rail. He moved smooth. His shoe heels tilted on the dura steel. The door closed. Injah heard footsteps. Beyond the doors he heard the droid's automated greeting. Leyna was coming. Frell, he had to move quick. A big inhale lifted his chest before a sigh escaped him. The walls in the elevator box were velvet. The place was plush. How could a rag-tag band of nitwit on a holiday week afford such a place? Each floor he passed housed another bougie adult baby probably playing with spices & spicy pricy ladies. Or, more likely, the aforementioned father with their secret S'kytri lover named Prikista. Injah could imagine. Those big wide winged devil-angels would drive an old, big bank, grey haired man insane. You'd be toying with the dangerous zone of too much fun, fiddling with a S'kytri. Not that Injah had much experience with their kind; he was preoccupied with the flightless ladies still, like the half Firrerreo & half Zeltros bar back who reeked of lemons & ale. Matter of fact, she stained his suite with her scent. You could sniff the fragrance all the way down the hall. When Injah stepped out into the hall, he was hit by it. And, what followed were the memories. As he trailed the hallway, Injah saw last night flash before him. He'd pin her up to his right.

Then, off to the left wall. They pushed, kissed, and tugged at each other until they'd reached the door. With a twist, click and swipe, they toppled in to the distraught of his suite-mates. They weren't so pleased, especially since he ignored their, "What in all the seven rings are you doing?" and "Get the frack off the floor" or "Get off my bed" complaints. But, what did they know about fun? Spoiling a good time - just a bunch of downers.

Injah opened the suite doors just as the night before, welcomed to his spoils. The bar back's smell filled his nose as the broken vase, toppled decor draped and half-eaten food was sat on the ground by the balcony door with an empty wine bottle. Leyna didn't clean up on purpose. He stepped in and shut the door behind him. Despite the mess, the place was nice. Dimly lit, the floor was marble, clean and white like the walls. Fine carpets lay under a golden accented vanilla sofa and couch. Burgundy cloths draped over the furniture arms. Open windowed walls framed the balcony side, giving a spectacular view of the city. In the distance the parade could be heard and saw. It was beautiful.

Injah hadn't taken it in. Nor would he at this juncture; he was in a rush.

He slid across the ground, and dashed into his room. There was a bed, tapestry on the wall, and a closet stuffed with little more than a robe and a bag he bought. Inside the stachel was just what he needed to dine and dash. With a swipe, he yanked that satchel bag, threw the strap over the opposite shoulder and began at the door. Before leaving his room behind, he grabbed his lightsaber off the dresser top. The lights went off automatically behind him as he turned the corner, speed-walking back out. As he grabbed the door, it opened; and she was there.

"Frack."

"The hell you think you're going, ya moof-milker? You have to pay for all this. And clean up. The frag! I got half the mind to report back to the Council and tell 'em you're not sithspit! Krak you!!" Her finger was like a laser, pointed and shooting him in the shoulder. She backed him.

Ah, the council. She was getting real upset now. His hands went up like he was getting arrested. "Krak me?" he shook his head. He feigned sadness. "I thought we were friends."

She snarled.

[Injah Bas]

A woman's scorn nearly matched the Council's scolding. Back on Jeddesh, the Emerë rule was strict and moral. Injah's amorality was a disgrace. During the Galactic Civil War, he was not allowed a return to his home planet. Without the Jedi Order's supervision, he'd developed habits. Yet, his mind and experience were a prize. When he was finally given clearance to return, his knowledge made him a useful adviser. His position made getting off his homeworld plausible. He had leverage and powerful people's ears. A tug here and there on those strings, and he was given an off-world task; Injah saw it as a chance for freedom.

For god-knows-how-long, he'd been stuck on Jeddesh playing old (young-looking) wise-man and storyteller with relatives he'd forgotten were so annoying. Those occasional trips home during the pre-Clone War era put the family in such a nice light. Every leave of absence was met with festive events, celebratory outings, laughs and glee. But, when you're living at home, every day can't be a party. The novelty wanes. People take you for granted, and they should.

Every dry conversation and community coordinated event or intergalactic diplomatic (or not so diplomatic) advisory was navigated to get him off that rock. Some were privy to his motives. Those people understood. They'd seen the outside world. And, while home held all the intangibles, they knew his spirit. It was wild. A restrained man would only grow more reckless. Placed in a position of power, such irreverence would be detrimental. So, the monarch Amlaka sought to assist him in his diplomatic mission off the planet; he'd re-join the ranks of the Jedi Order as a liaison for the Emerë. It was a benefit to her, too. By consulting with him, she kept a handle on the perception of her people and could gain power amongst her ranks.

She was connected.

But, it was up to Injah to establish such connection, and he wasn't showing much drive - or, at least that is what Leyna could report back to her contractors. Next thing you know, all would be shut down. Amlaka would be pigeon-held. He'd be stuck on Jeddesh. Some other talent would replace him. He would be subjected to standing behind a throne whispering sweet lies until he rotted hundreds of years laters as an ancient story, children whispering about "O, did you know ol' man Injah use to be a great Jedi before the Great Galactic Civil War?" A life filled with regret, only to be consoled with local snacks and grumblings or spitting at people for stepping on his porch while he runs kooky experiments, rattling off rants about the galaxy.

Just the flash of those images made him shiver.

"Ok, ok, I'll clean up." He conceded, shoulders lowering as he smiled. "But, only if you help me."

Her face contorted, ready to scream, before being cut short.

"Eh, just playin' withcha."