Sandstorm
folder
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
3,094
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Star Wars (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
18
Views:
3,094
Reviews:
11
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 7
Author: Pilgrim
Title: Sandstorm
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Star Wars characters or movies (unfortunately) and am not making any money from this (even bigger unfortunately)
Feedback: Please! First time fan fiction writer and desperate for tips, tricks, advice, stuff me full of info please! I want to improve and take over the world with my genius mwhahaha! Lol, only kidding but feedback would be fantastic, send it to raukarwen_deomene@yahoo.com!
Chapter 7
The sweltering heat of the ship increased tenfold with each step Arsha took towards the lower decks. Various forms of life from all over the galaxy whistled, whirred and jabbered at each other, despite the fact that it was officially night and they should all have been asleep. Still, some of them were nocturnal beings and as such were fully within their rights to be awake at this hour.
There was one particular ‘creature’ she was looking for. One of the Hutt’s little helpers, typically a humanoid life form who had fallen on hard times. There was always a minimum of one present on each starfreighter. Business boomed on these long haul flights as passengers grew bored of staring at their neighbours across the metal walkways and sought instead the intoxicated depths of their own imaginations through spice.
Arsha spotted the human a mile off, long and lanky with matted rusty gold hair. His eyes were nervously flicking between passengers, checking that no official was stalking him. He visibly winced at Arsha’s gaze and began to move away, unsure of her intentions. She caught up with him easily and wrapped her fingers lightly about his collar, dragging him into a dark corner, away from prying eyes. When travelling with a Jedi, one could never be too careful whose eyes caught your actions.
“What you got?” Arsha whispered. The male glanced down uncomfortably, rooting through various bags and pockets before pulling out a few pouches of spice. “I meant the decent stuff, not the rubbish.” She flashed him a few credits to show she meant business and the nervous man settled slightly with the reassurance of being paid.
“It’ll cost you.” He snickered as he pulled out the purer form of the spices. Her eyes met his with a glare.
“I don’t think so. If it costs me, it’ll cost you and I know you don’t want that to happen. I’ve heard the Hutts can get rather violent when displeased.” The man gave her a black look.
“What you mean?” he whispered in his rough dialect. Arsha leaned closer, wrinkling her nose at his stale stench.
“I mean that I am on the Hutts good side. Discount price for the best stuff. You know what I mean.” The man frowned at her in deeper suspicion.
“What about your mark?” Arsha tugged up her sleeve and showed the bare expanse of skin to the man. He drew out a scanner and zipped over it. The Hutt symbol burned brightly luminescent and he gave a curt nod of acceptance.
:/
Arsha glanced down at the small phial of glitterstim. Settled into a corner of the ship too dark and fetid for any normal being to approach, she downed the phial in one go. The effect was almost instantaneous. The rush of adrenaline sent the drab colours of her darkened surroundings into voluminous iridescent colours. The image slowed from its kaleidoscopic spiral to rest on a small peaceful room.
A small bed against one wall, plain bedclothes and a plump mattress. A small girl sat on the end nursing a lightsaber burn to her elbow and looking disgruntled at the wound. The door swished open in that comfortingly familiar way, and a tall chocolate coloured shadow stood framed in the doorway.
“Master, the mission was given to another Padawan and his Master. Where are you?” A deep teenage boy’s voice crackled through her senses. Arsha shook her head. Where the Sith was this coming from? This voice was not part of that memory.
“I am sorry, Padawan. I was delayed. I should be back at the Temple within a few days. There will be other missions, do not be so disappointed.” That voice was familiar, Arsha’s head swirled as the memory twisted away in a vortex, back into storage and ready for a later glitterstim session. Slowly her abused eyes settled on the unfolding scene of a wide circular room, her eyes drifted to a pair of Jedi reclined on cushions in the centre of the room. Instantly both eyes turned towards her and she froze.
Fighting off the effects of the glitterstim, Arsha ducked the Jedi’s connection and awoke sharply in the corner she had paused in. Her body was chilled by the droplets of sweat clinging desperately to her skin. Clambering upright, Arsha glanced out of the corner and froze. Too late; the Jedi stood before her imposingly, his arms folded beneath their brown cloaked mantle and his eyes latched onto hers.
“Oh,” she whispered. Obi-Wan didn’t move.
“Oh indeed. I think we need to talk.” Arsha nodded slowly and followed him back to the room, her mind still spinning with the glitterstim. Fighting to regain some of her intelligence and cunning, she attempted to piece together some form of an explanation for the truly unintentional eavesdropping.
The lock of the door behind her was thunderous to her over-sensitised ears and she winced painfully. Dropping down onto the bed, she waited for Obi-Wan to confront her. He paced the room several times before stopping directly in front of her. “You use spice.”
It was a statement, pure and simple. Yet his tone was not statement-like, it was accusing. “Yes.” Arsha knew it had been rhetorical but the silence was pounding against her tender ears as loud as any drum. Obi-Wan sat stiffly opposite her.
“You do know that I should report you,” he stated and Arsha nodded.
“I am well aware of your Order’s scrupulous duties and rules. With all freedom comes punishment,” she whispered, not wanting to hurt her ears any further.
“Well, I am not going to report you. I believe that you may be Force-sensitive. How else could you have overheard a Jedi-Padawan’s mental bond?” Obi-Wan declared in a matter-of-fact manner.
“I am not Force-sensitive, it was the spice. It was pure,” Arsha fumbled. Obi-Wan regarded her curiously; he was silent for a few minutes. Slowly he leaned forwards for his eyes to be level with hers.
“Who are you?”
Title: Sandstorm
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Star Wars characters or movies (unfortunately) and am not making any money from this (even bigger unfortunately)
Feedback: Please! First time fan fiction writer and desperate for tips, tricks, advice, stuff me full of info please! I want to improve and take over the world with my genius mwhahaha! Lol, only kidding but feedback would be fantastic, send it to raukarwen_deomene@yahoo.com!
Chapter 7
The sweltering heat of the ship increased tenfold with each step Arsha took towards the lower decks. Various forms of life from all over the galaxy whistled, whirred and jabbered at each other, despite the fact that it was officially night and they should all have been asleep. Still, some of them were nocturnal beings and as such were fully within their rights to be awake at this hour.
There was one particular ‘creature’ she was looking for. One of the Hutt’s little helpers, typically a humanoid life form who had fallen on hard times. There was always a minimum of one present on each starfreighter. Business boomed on these long haul flights as passengers grew bored of staring at their neighbours across the metal walkways and sought instead the intoxicated depths of their own imaginations through spice.
Arsha spotted the human a mile off, long and lanky with matted rusty gold hair. His eyes were nervously flicking between passengers, checking that no official was stalking him. He visibly winced at Arsha’s gaze and began to move away, unsure of her intentions. She caught up with him easily and wrapped her fingers lightly about his collar, dragging him into a dark corner, away from prying eyes. When travelling with a Jedi, one could never be too careful whose eyes caught your actions.
“What you got?” Arsha whispered. The male glanced down uncomfortably, rooting through various bags and pockets before pulling out a few pouches of spice. “I meant the decent stuff, not the rubbish.” She flashed him a few credits to show she meant business and the nervous man settled slightly with the reassurance of being paid.
“It’ll cost you.” He snickered as he pulled out the purer form of the spices. Her eyes met his with a glare.
“I don’t think so. If it costs me, it’ll cost you and I know you don’t want that to happen. I’ve heard the Hutts can get rather violent when displeased.” The man gave her a black look.
“What you mean?” he whispered in his rough dialect. Arsha leaned closer, wrinkling her nose at his stale stench.
“I mean that I am on the Hutts good side. Discount price for the best stuff. You know what I mean.” The man frowned at her in deeper suspicion.
“What about your mark?” Arsha tugged up her sleeve and showed the bare expanse of skin to the man. He drew out a scanner and zipped over it. The Hutt symbol burned brightly luminescent and he gave a curt nod of acceptance.
:/
Arsha glanced down at the small phial of glitterstim. Settled into a corner of the ship too dark and fetid for any normal being to approach, she downed the phial in one go. The effect was almost instantaneous. The rush of adrenaline sent the drab colours of her darkened surroundings into voluminous iridescent colours. The image slowed from its kaleidoscopic spiral to rest on a small peaceful room.
A small bed against one wall, plain bedclothes and a plump mattress. A small girl sat on the end nursing a lightsaber burn to her elbow and looking disgruntled at the wound. The door swished open in that comfortingly familiar way, and a tall chocolate coloured shadow stood framed in the doorway.
“Master, the mission was given to another Padawan and his Master. Where are you?” A deep teenage boy’s voice crackled through her senses. Arsha shook her head. Where the Sith was this coming from? This voice was not part of that memory.
“I am sorry, Padawan. I was delayed. I should be back at the Temple within a few days. There will be other missions, do not be so disappointed.” That voice was familiar, Arsha’s head swirled as the memory twisted away in a vortex, back into storage and ready for a later glitterstim session. Slowly her abused eyes settled on the unfolding scene of a wide circular room, her eyes drifted to a pair of Jedi reclined on cushions in the centre of the room. Instantly both eyes turned towards her and she froze.
Fighting off the effects of the glitterstim, Arsha ducked the Jedi’s connection and awoke sharply in the corner she had paused in. Her body was chilled by the droplets of sweat clinging desperately to her skin. Clambering upright, Arsha glanced out of the corner and froze. Too late; the Jedi stood before her imposingly, his arms folded beneath their brown cloaked mantle and his eyes latched onto hers.
“Oh,” she whispered. Obi-Wan didn’t move.
“Oh indeed. I think we need to talk.” Arsha nodded slowly and followed him back to the room, her mind still spinning with the glitterstim. Fighting to regain some of her intelligence and cunning, she attempted to piece together some form of an explanation for the truly unintentional eavesdropping.
The lock of the door behind her was thunderous to her over-sensitised ears and she winced painfully. Dropping down onto the bed, she waited for Obi-Wan to confront her. He paced the room several times before stopping directly in front of her. “You use spice.”
It was a statement, pure and simple. Yet his tone was not statement-like, it was accusing. “Yes.” Arsha knew it had been rhetorical but the silence was pounding against her tender ears as loud as any drum. Obi-Wan sat stiffly opposite her.
“You do know that I should report you,” he stated and Arsha nodded.
“I am well aware of your Order’s scrupulous duties and rules. With all freedom comes punishment,” she whispered, not wanting to hurt her ears any further.
“Well, I am not going to report you. I believe that you may be Force-sensitive. How else could you have overheard a Jedi-Padawan’s mental bond?” Obi-Wan declared in a matter-of-fact manner.
“I am not Force-sensitive, it was the spice. It was pure,” Arsha fumbled. Obi-Wan regarded her curiously; he was silent for a few minutes. Slowly he leaned forwards for his eyes to be level with hers.
“Who are you?”