|
|
"Numakooooo!" A deep bellowing voice rang out through the dusty spare parts shop.
The slight young woman paid no head to the shout as she sat there, transfixed before her latest masterpiece. Her face... young, child-like, with a button nose... was carved from milky white-yellow-green and her wide, innocent-seeming eyes were deepest brown, lined with pale moss-green lashes that were only bluer and darker than her skin by a shade. But her eyes glinted almost black now in the shadow of her visor-mask, her visor-mask that both served to enhance as well as to protect her vision. From behind her ears, two long, straight, pigtails... moss-green, like her lashes... streamed past her ears, over her shoulders, down her back.
Her gloved fingers twitched as she manipulated the tiny pinpoint laser, shaping a shard of metal with the finesse of an artist. One could even see the sweat pearling on her fragile, pale green arms and down her slim back... perhaps it was from the desert heat or perhaps it was from concentration, no one would be able to tell for sure. She wore a skimpy cloth halter too, to keep cool and counter the climate of her work, and her long-looking, thin legs were sheathed in sun-colored suede.
Her fingers twitched again, and the bit was finished. She carefully affixed it to her XYZ-droid, an invention of her own genius device. It was small, wrought of copper and bronze synthetics, and had the form of something like a cat with long, stretchy bat wings. Its inhuman eyes swirled jewel-like in a placid green-blue miasma. Of course, what it was supposed to be able to do was compute advanced mathematics and translate obscure codes... all the while telling bad jokes or singing favorites like "Tomorrow is an Eon Away" and "The Atom's Family" in the key of D flat. But right now all the poor droid felt like doing was beeping sadly and drinking martinis. She had a feeling the repair job was going to be awhile.
"Numako! Quit working and look at me, you three-eyed daughter of a ring-tailed wampa!"
She carefully turned off her laser tool and removed her visor. Between her two blue-green brows was a tiny tear-shaped hiddonite bindhi jewel. "Ergot, Yes?" she addressed as politely as she could manage.
"What is the meaning of this!" Ergot, her boss, was a tall, robust, porculent being, with pale pink blubber-filled skin covered with bright red spots. He was dressed in all kinds of odd robes and fine fabrics... velvet, silk, lace... which dangled with beads, jewels, colored stones and bells. His dull yellow eyes betrayed his slowness of thought well enough, but now that they were crossed and his big floppy ears stood on end, he looked even less smart than usual.
"What... mean... you?" she asked with theatrical naïveté.
"I just got shocked!"
She darted her eyes away at that moment and covered her growing smirk with a gloved hand, "Oops. Forget to tell you, I did. The strong current.. surprises, does it not?"
"What... what did you do to the blue-milkshake-mixer?"
"Trying I was... to see how TCB-32 would look... with something new for a brain..."
"And just why was the power turned up to high?"
"Uh... hehe... brain storm she must have been having, I think."
He moaned. "I swear, I'll fire you if you pull this on me again!"
"Hehe, you won't, no... too important I am to your business, yes! Make things work, I do..."
"By the twin suns above, Numako! Will you just quit using that stupid-sounding speech inflection? It's really annoying me!"
Numako glared: "The way I talk... this is. Stupid it is not. Stupid are you! Get over it, you must!"
"Haha! Whatever!" Ergot grunted and left the chamber.
Numko didn't much like Ergot. Numako was an artist, a genius... how did she ever end up with a guardian as dull and as unimaginative as he was, she'd never know.
"Leave this place soon, I will! Amazing places I'll see... grand adventures I'll have... marvelous inventions I'll design... glory and fame I'll earn... I will! Haha! Sorry, you'll be, Ergot! Keeping me cooped up here like a slave, bad idea is!"
Suddenly there was a ringing of chimes at the front door of the spare parts shop. She looked up, but no one was there.
"Looking for someone?"
She spun around quickly on her stool. And there he was.
Tall, handsome, with skin and wavy tresses dark as loam, eyes dark as night. He had a faint quirk to the left end of his impish grin, which parted to reveal perfect, brilliantly white teeth. He stood with a dancer's ease, one elbow cocked on a high shelf overflowing with mechanical clutter.
"You!" she shouted, and her eyes were bright, and a clever little smile came to her lips. "Trading for a new converter, are you?"
"Numa, Numa! You read my mind once again!"
"Well, the class Q-54 a pretty piece is, but want you an F-78, no doubt! Seven we have, one in fine condition, cost you more, it will... five in passable condition... with a bit of tweaking, perfect... or you have, for a special price, my special AK-G4 type... which tuned to ninety different frequencies, it can be!"
He grinned at her and then winked, "The AK-G4 type of course. You're the best craftsman... uh, craftswoman in this half of the galaxy. I trust the quality of your work."
"Seventy credits, that'll be."
"You are always such the over-achiever, Numako! Forty credits."
"Hehe, the best, I am... the best, I expect! Sixty five credits."
"Fifty credits. That's already more than I would pay anywhere else!"
"Insult me, do not! Sixty three credits, as low as I go..."
He laughed, enjoying himself immensely. "Fifty-two, take it or leave it."
"Fifty nine... I think... generous today I feel."
"Well then, that being the case... You have a deal!"
She smiled at him like a tiger and pranced childishly from the stool to the other side of the shop. "Here you go. Like it, you will. Worked hard on it, I did! Good deal, you have!"
"Let's forget the deal for a moment, Numako. I really came here to see you."
"Me? Why?"
"In my intergalactic travels, I came across some information, Numako, information which you would be most interested in knowing."
"About what?"
"Your past."
"Kid me, you do! My past you could not know! Of that, even I do not have a clue..."
Suddenly the bell at the door rang again, and a cluster of young girls in peculiar dress wandered in. They must have been from the planet of Coruscant, Numako thought... it was the only place she knew of that would actually promote the wearing of such funny-looking garb... although she had heard rumors that the Queen of the planet Naboo was opt for peculiar costumes as well...
"I see you still work nights at the cantina." The handsome dark man interrupted her thoughts once again with a whisper into her ear, "Good! I'll see you there tonight..." And then he winked at her devilishly and left the shop, calling out, "And bring lots of credits... unless you plan on giving me that converter for free! This'll cost you..."
Numako stuck her tongue out as the mysterious, dark man left her Mos Espa shop. Well, if he was going to be that way... mysterious, that is... she could always rig the AK-G4 he was so interested in with a little "surprise"... She smiled at that thought, then turned, once again, to the small cluster of teenage girls that had just entered her shop.
Ever intrigued by their alien beauty, she studied them closer this time, much like a botanist might study exotic blooms.
The first was tall, graceful of limb; with hair the color of sapphire fire, a deep, rich jewel-toned blue. It was pulled up high upon the crown of her head in the style of a dancer, or a princess, and a few stray tendrils escaped, framing a soft, sweet-natured face... a face that Numako seemed to remember, as if from a long ago dream. And while the girl's skin was fair, indeed, fair like alabaster... her eyes were as dark as Numako's.
The second girl was shorter than the first by a few inches, her skin was less stark of hue, and her movements were more sharp and perky... while the first girl had seemed the kindly older sister, this one seemed younger, dynamic in nature. Her healthy auburn hair was braided and looped behind the ears in a pretty yet economic fashion, and she had a midnight blue gaze that seemed to hold a hundred careful secrets.
The third girl was the tallest yet! She had a honed, athletic figure, a dominant poise, boy-cropped golden tresses, and was the only one to boast of a tan worthy of Tatooine climes. If it weren't for this particular girl's otherworldly clothes, in fact, Numako would have laid odds that this one had lived on this planet for most of her life, and was probably a bounty hunter. Well, Numako knew bounty hunters, smugglers and gamblers like the back of her hand... she would look forward to dealing with this one as quick as the next.
The fourth girl, however, stood out with startling contrast, even to the first of the girls! Her skin was cool and white, the color of snow or ice... and although Numako had only ever heard of such things from intergalactic pilots who had stopped by the shop from time to time, she knew then, in that instant, what they had meant, and was amazed! Likewise, this new girl's hair was blue as frost, and her pale eyes were like shards of icy quartz crystal. And while the blonde, tanned, athletic girl before her had seemed quite comfortable in the shop and the weather, this one looked ill at ease, as if she was itching to return to whatever cold realm she once knew as home.
The last of the five girls was the lioness. She had hair like burnished copper and eyes of jade. Her prepossessing, haughty aire followed her with every theatric movement, and she prowled the shop as though she owned it. She also seemed, by far, the oldest in the group... older than even Numako by around ten standard years! This intrigued the young inventress... was this one, perhaps, the leader?
"Yes? Help you, how may I?" Numako offered, with a clever wink.
The girl with the sapphire-colored hair stepped forward then, surprising Numako, who had expected the red-head to respond first. "Yes, we're looking for a Toydarian named Watto..."
Numako scrunched up her nose at that. Her boss, Ergot, was an old gambling crony of Watto's. And if she detested Ergot's presence in her life, she found the flying blue slug's visits even more disturbing. "Looking for that freakish runt, are you? Scum company, you must keep!"
Then the girl with the braided auburn hair stepped beside the sapphire-haired one, adding, "Actually, a friend of ours sent us to discover the whereabouts of his mother, who happens to be a slave of Watto's."
Numako suddenly went stiff. "Mother?" She knew, of course, immediately what slave and what woman they were referring to, for there was only one it could possibly be! Shmi Skywalker; Watto's favorite treasure. Numako had only seen the woman once or twice, but had come to know her as the kindest, most generous human in the galaxy, and regarded her as sort of an aunt or stand-in mother, for she had no parents of her own.
And of course there was always Shmi's son...
"Ani... you mean? To learn of his mother, he wishes?" Numako continued.
"Yes! You know of him?" The girl with braids seemed to be delighted by this turn of events.
"I did." Numako shrugged, trying to play it off. She could still remember the boy's adorable little face and those frighteningly intelligent eyes. At just four years of age he had come to her to bum off tricks about mechanical and electronic endeavors, and he had been quicker to catch on to things than even she had been at his age! So she had played the older sister for a while, being both proud and envious of her precocious young student. Eventually, though, he had learned enough that he didn't need her tutelage anymore... and from then on they became friendly rivals at the same game. However, in the end, he had won... for it was he who was able to leave this hell called Tatooine. She had had to stay.
It was a sore spot of hers. It left an acrid taste in her mouth.
"Well then... do you know anything of Shmi?" They persisted.
"A little. Last I saw her, doing fine, she was. Well, for a slave… as best as can be expected." She looked out of the corner of her eye then, to the money pouch on the lioness's belt. She smiled mischievously. "Little information this is, I know, but... for a price..."
All the girls, as one, turned to the girl with the fiery tresses. Feeling their stares, the lioness looked up. "What?"
"I think the shop keeper will loosen her lips for us a little more for a small bribe..."
"A small what?" Suddenly the fiery haired one's jade eyes grew wide, "Oh no! I earned this fair and square from that performance I put on at Naboo..."
"Hisui..."
"No!"
"Come on, just a little!"
"I absolutely..."
Just then the girl with the icy complexion came forward and dropped a couple coins into Numako's hands. "Now, what were you going to say?"
Numako flipped the two coins into the air with a one handed gesture, and, for a moment, they glinted above her like the twin suns of Tatooine. Then she caught them together with a one-handed snap, and smiled at the group of girls with yet another wink. "Watto to the cantina, often comes. Be there tonight, he will. The booth in the far left corner.""Thank you." The palest of the girl's returned a cool smile at Numako, and the five of them left.
That evening, cantina noise could be heard tumbling down the old, dusty streets and alleys of Mos Espa, echoing with the garbled din of shouting, laughter, flirting, threats, wild music, and the clicking of trays and glasses. From time to time, haphazard drunks would push through the rickety, swinging doors and trundle blindly away into the night. And for a moment the light from within the cantina could be seen like a spear across the worn front steps.
Here, a short-statured figure cloaked in brown weave skipped up, and with a gloved hand, pushed the door inward with a practiced shove.
Inside, the press of bodies... human and a hundred different types of alien, red, blue, sandy-colored, web-footed, hairy and cloven toed, dressed in anything from dirty smocks and trousers to wild tri-colored lingerie... could easily induce claustrophobia. The air hung thick with sweet-smelling incense and smoke, and glittered with the twinkling of gems and sweat. The music was quick and fun, an easy dance-beat, which brought a smile to the hooded figure's lips.
As it slid forward, the slight figure ripped its cloak away from narrow shoulders. Underneath was Numako... decked out for a night on the town! Her child-like pale green form was offset by a revealing purple bikini top, and a long rectangled skirt that was slit even to the waist. She wore boots underneath... long, over-the knee, trimmed with copper... and they matched her gloves, which fitted just over the elbow joint as well. She had a copper choker too, clasped at the throat, and over-sized copper rings clinked at each ear. Her face was enhanced with subtle, mysterious cosmetics; her lips were painted to match her jewelry, and her lids were smudged purple and bluish, like twilight. Her teardrop bindhi glittered as always between her brows, and her long green pigtails were adorned with whispy lavender feathers.
Everyone who saw her went quiet for a moment, giving her curious and suspicious glances. But she didn't care how they looked at her, just as long as they did... because Numako thrived on attention, no matter what it's form. So she lifted her chin up high like a queen, and continued boldly forward with a swish swish of her skirt.
At the bar she picked up her usual virgin Bloody Mary with extra tomato and lime.
"Nice for you to show up, Numa," the bartender mused, with just a hint of sarcasm. "Wriggle's been worried half to death. Apparently the hologram spectacle planned for tonight has decided to keel over from an attack of four different fatal diseases, all at the last minute."
She grunted, "And only one, it takes..." And with an affected sigh, she deftly avoided the attentions of a precarious glitterstim junkie, and then slipped away, Bloody Mary and dark cloak in hand, to the stairs in the back of the crowded cantina.
"Wriggle, what's up?" Numako asked brightly as she reached the top.
In the nearly black room, a tall, bony, awkward albino... who looked something like an over-sized skeleton... sat uncomfortably hunched in front of a wild array of computer and glowing hologram screens. "It's the main cantina projector... I think... it can't seem to handle the input from any of our devices..."
Numako scowled, "Shards and Rubbish! Projector, my foot! Playing around with the code again, Gumba have been!"
Gumba, a jawa, was the cantina technician during the afternoon. He was reasonably proficient at his job, but his creativity far surpassed his skill.
Numako carefully eased herself into a padded chair then, and lifted her longish booted legs onto an empty place on the console in a most un-lady-like way. She took the controls to her lap and lifted her eyes up to the mock-up version of the laser show before her. It was twirling in miniature, and she could see the problem now, visually... there was a red flicker at times, when concrete figures would temporarily spaz out into abstraction. The image of a famous singing cow from another planet would become blots of blue and black; the image of a jumping toad creature would get stuck halfway in the air, then fuzz into mustard-salmon smudges.
"Gumba, mutant rodent is!" Numako muttered, and switched the outer image into the inner equivalent, a spiral of cosmic three dimensional pink code. "What... he... do? What... he... do?" Then she looked closer, pausing the transmission at one point, then another. There it was! A glitch in the pattern... the flow interrupted by clumsy, unnecessary programming. She let out a slight giggle. Then she immediately attacked the problem area, switching back and forth between the outer and the inner visuals, watching the effects of her manipulations on the final product.
"Aha! Fixed it, the genius has!" She smiled widely at Wriggle.
Wriggle looked up, and wiped the sweat off his brow, "And just in time. Orchestrating sequence now..." In the surveillance screen of a flying cantina camera, Numako could see the hologram come to life on a circular stage. The live band then eased off into silence, and the hologram took over the entertainment for the night.
Numako smiled blissfully to the sound of unglitched cow-pop and toad bee-bop.
Then, out of sudden curiosity, she flexed her fingers and directed the surveillance unit over to Watto's booth. The flying camera surreptitiously skid into a dark corner where she could view the proceedings without being noticed.
And sure enough, the five strange girls arrived.
The beautiful girl with the sapphire hair was named Kyoko. In the depths of her brown-within-brown eyes were the qualities of peace and wisdom, and she walked... no, glided... over to the booth in the far corner of the Mos Espa Cantina. There, smoking from a tall indigo-glass hookah, the greasy slug-form of Watto clutched to a golden parrot's perch.
Kyoko placed her hands suddenly on the booth's table and looked into the gambler's glassy eyes. "We're friends of Anakin Skywalker. And we were wondering if you could tell us anything about his mother."
Behind her stepped forth four other teenage girls. There was, of course, the auburn-haired girl with the braids... Kumoko... the tall athletic blonde... Zyta... the girl with the snow-white skin... Kirin... and the red-headed lioness... Hisui. As one group, together, at the end of the booth, they held quite an impressive presence.
There was also one Jedi with them... a Jedi with liquid blue eyes.
"Ani?" Watto managed to spit out the word just before coughing on his own smoke. "He's calling by these days? I thought he would have forgotten about that old crone by now..."
"Well, he hasn't," cool-eyed Kirin responded softly.
"Actually, he's been quite concerned about her welfare!" Zyta added, a grimace twisting on her lips.
"And so have we," fiery-tressed Hisui added, falling now into the booth's padded seat in front of Watto, as if she were, in fact, a long-time associate of his.
This made Watto uncomfortable. "Who... Who are you?" He coughed again.
The girls looked at each other then, as if silently trying to decide among themselves what exactly to tell this repulsive alien.
"That's none of your business," the Jedi finally said, flouncing his fingers before them.
Watto spit over his shoulder again, and a sick yellow spray collected on the wall. "You Jedi never learn. Mind tricks do not work on Toydarians... only money."
The Jedi gave him a measuring, somewhat disgusted glance.
Meanwhile, the girls turned to the green-eyed one among them. Hisui went red under their attention, of course, and clutched at her money pouch defensively.
Then, finally, with a sad look creeping to her face, she offered up a handful of coins.
"Now we're talking!" Watto grinned evilly. "As for Shmi, she is doing just fine. Better than fine in fact, because, as always I keep my slaves well-groomed. I can especially afford to these days, now that that expensive brat of hers is gone."
"Is there any way we can see her?"
"No. But perhaps I'd be willing to relay a message to her... perhaps... but only if your pouch keeper there is feeling a little bit more generous, heh?"
Hisui turned even redder. "I don't have any more..."
"Well, the galaxy is a tough place, ain't it?" Watto chuckled and puffed some more on his hookah.
"Wait!" Kumoko pushed Kyoko to the side now, "What if we throw it up to chance? I doubt you could resist a good bet, huh Watto?"
"A bet, heh? But you have nothing to offer..."
"How about this, yes?" a new voice perked up from the shadows. A small green hand placed a strange device of sorts upon the table between Watto, the girls and the Jedi.
"Hey, it's that girl from the spare parts shop that talks like Yoda!" Zyta, the tall blonde, exclaimed brightly.
"And check out that new gig she's dressed up in!" Hisui whistled appreciatively.
"What... is this?" Watto turned to Numako, flabbergasted.
"The GH34-plus... right out of Sebulba's pod, it is! If expect you to have a chance at the next race, you consider the deal, I suggest."
"You... stole... that..."
"No... merely borrowed. Return it eventually, I will. With a special addition, too, perhaps."
"Why you little verb-inverting prankster!"
"And a devolved salt-fearing bug-brain, are you!"
The five girls cracked up at that response. But Watto only grumbled.
"Very well," Watto continued. "Either way, you'll end up paying for all of this in the end, Numako!" So he turned to the girls. "You're very lucky, eh? The little trollop has taken a liking to you, I see. Well, then, what do you wish to gamble on?"
"Holographic Pong," Numako stated abruptly.
"Hah! Knowing you, you've already rigged the game!"
"Impossible, that is. Code key clearance is known by only one person... Pooka, the Hutt."
"Yeah, you've got a point there. Well, it just so happens I have a new favorite contender for that particular sport."
He turned away from his booth just then, and motioned to a young woman, standing to one side of the ever popular holographic pong display. From the folds of her long black satin cloak, her red-velvet gloved fingers twitched. The gloves seemed be lined with electrodes and fiber optics, and her intensely-focused brow was lined with tiny wired suctions. It appeared that the game was more than just a visual delight... it was mind play as well... and with each delicate gesture of the young woman's hand, she deftly slammed the floating pong ball into the psychosis of her adversary. She was already winning thirteen to two against one of the best Pong players in Mos Espa. Watto laughed to himself. "That over there is Ariel-ni'pah..."
"Never seen her before, have I." Numako looked at the young woman worriedly.
"Yeah? Well, she's new around here, like I said. But she's been a very good betting choice, so far..." He turned back to the four girls. "Perhaps, holographic Pong won't be the best bet for you then, eh? I doubt you would be able to find a gamer equal to that one!"
"Well... there's always Numako."
Like little chicks all in a row, the group of five girls looked up as one. Standing among them now was the mysterious dark man who had visited Numako only that afternoon.
He winked at them all and added, "She's the best Pong player on Tatooine."
And with that, the girls then all turned to the little green electronics whiz expectantly.
Numako laughed uneasily. "Yep, the truth, that is..."
