Lipstick and Lekku, Part 4 [conclusion]

     It would truly have been disastrous if the incredulous laugh that reflexively came to Mission’s lips at Bastila’s question had actually emerged. So it was fortuitous for the Twi’lek that someone chose that exact moment to knock on the door.
     The sound of knuckles rapping on metal startled the Jedi out of her distant musings. Sparing a quick, embarrassed glance at Mission as she belatedly realized she’d voiced her last thought aloud, Bastila cleared her throat hastily, then quickly moved forward to open the door.
     It was Carth.
     "Carth?" asked Bastila, obviously surprised.
     "Expecting Juhani?" he asked. "I just passed her in the hallway; she looked a little distracted." His eyes zeroed in on Bastila’s face. "Ah—"
     "So what did you want, Carth?" Mission asked hurriedly.
     His eyes reluctantly left the smudge marring Bastila’s face, and he turned, distracted, to look at Mission. "Uh... what?"
     "Want? Here? Talk?" she prompted.
     "Oh, yeah," he said, snapping out of it. "I think I know what’s going on with the emergency lights."
     Mission sighed to herself. He’s going on about the emergency lights. Again.
     "What does that have to do with anything here?" asked Bastila, echoing in much more mild tones what was going through Mission’s mind.
     But Carth reacted defensively (Bastila tended to have that effect on people). "Hey, it’s my job to make sure this ship is as safe as possible," he pointed out.
     "I never said it wasn’t," Bastila demurred.
     "I’ve been through a lot in my time in the Navy, and you can never be too prepared for emergencies," he continued.
     "Indeed," she said. "But don’t you think the amount of time and energy you’ve expended on this one issue may very well have not been justified by the seriousness of it?"
     Mission got the sense that the two of them were slipping into the familiar trappings of a long-standing debate. Her own predicament momentarily forgotten, she settled down to watch the show.
     "I don’t need to analyze things to death before acting," Carth replied pointedly.
     Bastila ignored the barb. "A little foresight is conducive to allowing one to appropriately scale responses to issues," she explained crisply. "In particular, it can help one allocate scare resources effectively and identify which problems require immediate attention, and which can be deferred as unimportant or superficial."
     "Superficial?"
     Bastila nodded.
     "The very antithesis of the Jedi?"
     She nodded again.
     "Yes... I can see that. Quite clearly, as a matter of fact."
     Bastila’s eyebrows furrowed.
     "So why exactly are you here again?" Mission asked hurriedly, before Bastila had too much time to ponder Carth’s reply.
     He shook himself out of confrontation mode. "Mission," he said, looking at her seriously, "your pet gizka is chewing through some wires and shorting the emergency lights."
     Now it was Mission’s turn to get defensive.
     "Princess? She wouldn't do that! Do you actually have the evidence?"
     "I found bits of plastic sheathing throughout her nest," he said.
     "What? You call that evidence? That—that could have come from anywhere!"
     "Oh, that's even better!" he shot back. "Gizka chewing into who-knows-what somewhere aboard this ship."
     "She’s just one little gizka, and she’s just curious about all that wiring," Mission protested. "Surely a little nibble here or there won’t hurt anything."
     "A little nibble here, a little nibble there... and suddenly the hyperdrive is offline."
     "I told Enosh those gizka could cause us trouble," Bastila added.
     Mission turned on the Jedi. "You just don’t like her because of that stupid lightsaber thing."
     Bastila was shocked at Mission’s attack. "That—that ‘stupid lightsaber thing’ nearly resulted in the destruction of my most cherished item," Bastila replied, affronted.
     "But it wasn’t Princess’s fault! You overreacted!"
     "Overreacted? Overreacted? They were stealing my disassembled lightsaber!" she said indignantly.
     "You just scared them! If you’d given me the chance to calm them down, instead of haring off after them like that, none of that other stuff would have happened!"
     Perhaps sensing that things were starting to get too hot, Carth forced his way between the two of them. "Mission," he said firmly, facing the Twi’lek, "you need to train Princess to stay away from those wires. She’s been lucky so far, but she could very well end up accidentally shocking herself."
     Mission’s anger cooled as Carth’s words sank in. He’s right.
     She let out one last, angry breath. "Okay. Okay, you’re right, Carth. I’ll do something about it."
     "Good."
     As Carth went back to the doorway, Mission glanced at Bastila. The Jedi was doing her best to regain her composure, eyeing the Twi’lek coolly.
     "Are you going to--?"
     "Perhaps I was—"
     Awkward silence.
     "That’s more like it," Carth said, glancing between the two of them. "And speaking of Princess," he added, and Mission saw a slight grin emerge on his face as he turned to look at her, "don’t you think you should take better care of her, Mission?"
     "What—what are you talking about?"
     He glanced at Bastila. As was her habit when she felt uncomfortable in the presence of others, she was paying only slight attention, instead absorbed in fidgeting with the stiff collar of her robes. He looked back at the Twi’lek. "Have you seen her recently? She looks absolutely horrific!"
     "What? Oh... oh, you mean that... that blemish. Nothing, it’s—it’s nothing, hardly noticeable!"
     "Hardly noticeable?" asked Carth incredulously. "You can see it from a klick away!"
     She really wanted to throttle him at that moment. You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you?
     "You’re exaggerating, Carth," Mission said firmly, trying to give the words enough weight to rope around his neck and squeeze that grin off of his face. "Besides, she’s a big girl now. She can take a bath by herself. Who am I, her mother?"
     "But as the responsible—"
     "I didn’t do anything!" Well, perhaps technically she had, but Juhani shared at least some of the blame for choosing that particular moment in time to knock on the door. And Bastila, of course. Ultimately, it was her fault for riling Mission up enough to cut short her lekku soaking in the first place.
     "Just throw her in a tub of water."
     Carth and Mission both paused, in surprise, at Bastila’s words.
     "What—what was that?" Mission asked.
     Apparently back to her normal analytical self, the Jedi repeated herself. "I said, ‘Just throw her in a tub of water.’ Really, it isn’t all that complicated," she said dismissively.
     "I... I think she’d be rather upset by that," Mission ventured. "She’s kind of... finicky that way."
     "That’s an understatement," Carth added.
     "Fine. Then ask Juhani to put a Sleep on her," Bastila suggested. "Then Carth can hold her down while you scrub her clean. Use a wire brush through all that hair, to ensure that afterwards she is spotless."
     "Hold her down?" repeated Mission, trying hard not to burst out in giggles at the thought of Carth pinning Bastila to the floor.
     "A—a wire brush through all that hair?" Carth asked, obviously fighting hard himself to keep from laughing.
     "But that would be cruel," Mission added, sharing a glance with Carth, daring him to start laughing first. "She loves her hair."
     "You heard the Jedi," he replied with a slight shrug. "They don’t call them the Protectors of the Republic for nothing, you know."
     "Oh, she’s obviously quite resilient," Bastila continued. "Quite the fighter. Have you seen how she intimidates the others?"
     "So you’ve noticed, too?" Carth asked.
     "I thought it was just me," Mission said.
     "It may be humiliating at first for her, but I’m sure she’d soon forget the incident," Bastila opined.
     Carth shook his head. "She never forgets. Never."
     "And if not, just do whatever silly little things you normally do to appease her. Let her gorge herself at her food, tickle her hairy little belly, give her a good brush down, and then send her off to bed, content and happy. Whatever, Mission, she is your pet, after all."
     This was too much for Carth. "That’s it," he said, struggling to control himself. "I—I really have to go."
     "Don’t tell anyone... I mean, Princess, about this!" Mission warned.
     Unable to speak, Carth just waved a hand in acknowledgment as he left.

     "What is it with everyone today?" Bastila asked, as the door closed behind Carth. "First Juhani, and now Carth."
     "Perhaps it was something in the food tonight," Mission offered, trying to tamp down the giggles that threatened to overwhelm her. Just how ‘hairy’ is Bastila’s tummy, anyway?
     But the Jedi didn’t even acknowledge Mission’s statement. Instead, Bastila’s eyes were distant, as she tapped at her chin with a finger. The Twi’lek could almost see her brain cells firing.
     A spark of worry flared within her, and the fit of giggles inside her shriveled up and faded away.
     Decision apparently made, Bastila turned to look at Mission.
     "Yes?" the Twi’lek asked, tentatively.
     The Jedi said nothing. She continued looking at her... a little too closely...
     Oh no! Is my makeup messed up?
     ...
     Hey...waitaminute...
     "What are you doing, Bastila?" Her voice sounded a little too strained to her ears.
     "What are you talking about?" she asked, her voice low, soothing, lulling. Her gray eyes were large, pulling in Misison’s own like magnets.
     "You’re---you’re trying to read my mind!" gasped Mission.
     "Nonsense," Bastila said coolly. "Why would I bother trying to read the mind of a fourteen-year-old Twi'lek?"
     "That—that wasn't a denial; that was a question!" Mission yelped, hurriedly tossing images about haphazardly in her head, as if she were rummaging around through the junkyards of the Lower City. "You and your Jedi verbal twistiness!"
     Bastila’s eyes sharpened as she ran into the hurricane of Mission’s random thoughts. "Just relax, Mission," she soothed.
     "I will not relax! You stay out of my mind! Whatever happened to privacy around here?"
     "I'm just trying to figure out what's going on," Bastila said, in a reasonable tone of voice, taking a step toward her.
     Mission backed away. "And this is your idea of doing that? Whatever happened to, you know, just asking?"
     "Fine. Mission, what is going on around here? Why were Juhani and Carth acting so strangely?"
     "I don’t know. Why are you asking me?"
     Bastila scowled, and took another step. "Mission, if you...just stopped being so...evasive, I wouldn't have to resort to this!"
     "Evasive?" Mission asked, backing up. "What gives you the right to meddle in other people's business?"
     "I am a Jedi--it kind of is expected in the job description. And why are you so upset by this, anyway? Why, just the other day, you asked me to mind-read Princess for you."
     "That—that was different! She was moping around and I was just trying to find out if she was sick or something! Not violate her privacy to discover her deepest, darkest secrets or something. And you said no!"
     "So you are hiding something. Come now, Mission, we’re all friends here, aren’t we?"
     As Bastila advanced again, Mission backed up.
     She backed into the edge of her bunk, and the unexpected impact sent her tumbling backward onto her bed. Her outflung arms, wheeling wildly in the air, smacked onto the edge of the pan.
     With a crash, the pan clattered onto the bed, water hurled everywhere by the force of Mission’s elbow.
     The tepid rain showered all over Mission.
     And a gigantic deluge of cold water crashed onto Bastila’s head.
     Bastila gasped as the water drenched her head. Her hair lay plastered all over her face, rivulets of water running down.
     "I’m... I’m SO sorry!" Mission said, quickly grabbing up a towel and rushing to the spluttering Jedi’s side.
     Shocked, Bastila just stood there, buffeted by Mission’s towel as the Twi’lek dabbed at the water all over her face.
     "Let me... let me just get this one spot... right there on the corner of your mouth..."

     Enosh stumbled.
     "What is it?" Jolee asked from behind, and Enosh felt Jolee’s hands grab his shoulder. "What happened?"
     "I... I felt a disturbance in the Force," he said, straightening gradually.
     Jolee closed his eyes and concentrated. "I feel nothing out of the ordinary. Are you sure...?"
     They heard a door slam open, and turned to see a wide-eyed Mission come hurtling through the corridor, fleeing as if the entire Sith Empire was on her heels.
     With nary a glance at them, the nimble Twi’lek swiftly snaked between the two and plunged into another corridor.
     "What in the Galaxy was that all about?" Jolee asked.
     Down that corridor, they saw Canderous’s head pop out from the doorway to the workshop, staring down the way Mission had fled. The Mandalorian turned to trade a puzzled glance with them, then shrugged and disappeared back into the workshop.
     "I don't know," Enosh replied, looking down the corridor Mission had fled from so precipitously, "but I've got a bad feeling about this."
     "MISSION!" came an all too familiar voice from down the corridor.
     Enosh and Jolee traded looks.
     "A bad feeling, indeed." Enosh swallowed. "I... I guess I should go see—"
     Jolee just nodded. "Be strong, son," he said, gripping Enosh’s shoulder tightly. "Be strong. I’ll remember you always."

THE END