The Library: Episode I
"Hey, Reea, you got the punch?"
"Yeah, but I had to put it in the gas can. The Librarian doesn't like it when I bring in food."
"But she lets you bring in a gas can?"
"I don't understand, I just try to act like I'm behaving."
"Ok, well, I've got the Slim Fast (TM), and the charcoal briquets. Mix 'em up, and we've got a bona fide sleeping potion, guaranteed to give the slightly asthmatic sleep apnea, and the garrulous a tendency toward talking."
"Great. Can't wait to find out how our...heh heh heh... guests react to our little mixture. You did send out the invitations, right?"
"Reea, I'm shocked. You would doubt me? I enjoy these little get togethers at least as much as you do. And tonight... lets just say we've got some guests I have a vested interest in."
"Alright, we should start setting up the sofas and pillows in the main Lounge. That's where the party's ground Zero will be."
"I've got blankets, you have pillows?"
"As always. This is going to be fun. Well, fun for us, anyway."
On Coruscant:
"Obi-Wan, do you know anything about this invitation?"
"Master?"
Qui-Gon showed him the invitation, a delicately embossed peice of parchment, covered in crayon squiggles. The crayoned message was something along the lines of:
Deer Mistr Qui-Gone and Mistr Oby-Won:
U ar corjully unvitd tew a privut parti en thuh Ket
sistem Librery. Pleez come quitly. Wee dun't wahnt
tew muhch atenshun. Lyk I sed, its privut.
Thenks: Pyla
Pee Ess: nevr ews craeun whyle drunk.
Pee Ess Ess: ut leest I gut me nom ryt... I thunk... I hoap.
“Master, whoever wrote this must have been absolutely thrashed."
“Obi-Wan, I'm surprised at you. Using such language... tsk."
“Like you've never used the term... Master."
“Only when applying to you, young Padawan."
“Of course... What does the Force tell you about this... er... party?"
“I sense... great expectation... and.. Fun?"
“Then let's go! I've been cooped up in this temple too long."
"Ever the restless one, eh, Obi?"
On the mostly undeveloped planet of Tellaxia:
“Master, we just got a letter from the Jedi Temple. What should I do with it?"
Darth Sidious sat up a bit straighter from where he'd slouched while reading the Comics page. "Eh? What is it?"
Darth Maul shredded the envelope. "That twit Obi-Wan sent us a letter. Apparently he managed to fix Qui-Gon in much the same way you put me back together."
Sidious mumbled something under his breath about "all the kings horses and all the kings men." Maul disregarded the remark as he fidgeted with a thick swath of bandages wrapped around his midsection.
“Master, these things itch. When can I take them off?"
“When I'm sure you won't fall in half again, that's when! Now give me that letter!"
He read: Dart Sydius and Dart Mall:
I reeuhlyze thut ew ar nut en thuh best uv shayp
buht mai Mayster Qui-Gone ez felling much butter
end wahnted mee tew chayllenj yew tew ay dyul.
Meet mee un thuh playnet Ket at thuh Librery uv Ket,
end brung yur Lytsaybr.
Pyla... I meen... Obee-Wun
“What is this, crayon? Since when do Jedi go around issuing challenges?"
“I don't know, my Master, but I have a feeling whoever wrote this was seriously thrashed."
“If they were, I want to know who supplies their liquor. If it can screw them up that badly, I have got to get my hands on some."
“Are we going to go to this... Ket, my Master?"
“I will go, out of pure morbid curiosity. This does not seem to me like the handiwork of a Jedi, but anyone who would actually want us somewhere badly enough to attempt an impersonation of that Jedi must be completely insane. I have to meet them. We'll need some good deranged/demented commanders in the fleet I'm building. They're more effective."
“Will I be going with you, my Master?"
“Yes, Maul. You will go too. I plan to watch you until you have healed satisfactorily. Good apprentices are hard to come by, and I don't want to come home to find my best apprentice yet in several pieces strewn randomly about the living room."
“Yes, my Master. Soon we shall reveal ourselves to the librarian. Soon they shall have my late fees."
“Maul, I certainly hope thats all you were planing on giving them."
“Yes, my Master. I will ready your craft."
Maul moved to exit, and Sidious called after him. "Maul, leave those bandages alone!"
“Yes, my Master." Maul grumbled under his breath about the unbearable itch.
Back at the Library, Pyla and Reea, the twin nocturnal terrors of the bookshelves, were almost finished with their preparations.
“REEA!! I'M STUCK ON THE CIELING AGAIN!!!"
“Pyla, I told you not to levitate while we had the fly paper attached to the rafters."
Reea floated up to loosen her sister from the sticky traps. "You must be more careful. And Pyla, I just realized you never let me check over the invitations. You did send them didn't you?"
“Of course! Ow! That's my hair! Why do we have fly paper up here? We don't even have flies!"
“The fly paper is for levitating Jedi. I get the feeling we might get some really interesting shots of a few, if they get stuck. As I was saying, you know I like to check over the invitations for spelling and grammar mistakes before you send them."
Pyla nearly choked, and through her normally creamy complexion, her skin took on a rather pasty cast. "Umm, I think I checked them sufficiently..."
“Pyla? When did you send them?"
"Umm last Tuesday."
“When did you write them?"
“Sometime that night... I don't remember exactly."
“Wasn't last Tuesday the day I found you floating face up in a fountain filled with champagne, with a purple crayon, and several sheets of my best parchment clenched in your hands?"
“Uh... Yeah, that would be last Tuesday."
“That's when you wrote and sent out the invitations?"
“Yup! And when you conisder how utterly thrashed I was, I think I did a damn good job of it, too!"
“If I were you, I wouldn't be proud of myself. Your spelling is nothing to be proud of when you're not drunk." Reea violently wrenched Pyla's head off the clinging fly paper, leaving several handfuls of golden hair behind. Pyla yowled, as Reea continued to pull her twin off the cieling.
“I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE, REEA! YOU'LL PAY FOR THIS!!!"
“Yes, Pyla, I'm sure I will, but then again, you've been paying for that little misadventure in the Calca system for about a century now, haven't you?" Pyla responded by growling ominously and thinking a scathing stream of obscenities directly into her twin's mind.
“Now Pyla, be nice. You know insults don't impress me."
“GAH!!"
Later that night, Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had arrived at the apparently deserted Library. The building took up most of the planet's surface... scratch that, it took up the entire planet. After flying around the planet several times, and finally finding a landing pad, they'd disembarked and come across a room full of burning candles and a table covered in refreshments at the far end of the room. In the tradition of the Jedi, they couldn't resist the refreshment table. Plus they were thirsty, and in wandering the Library had succeeded in getting themselves locked in. Obi-Wan was still feeling a bit sheepish about having closed that door, especially after reading the note on the back of the door that said: By order of the Pyro Loon, This door will lock automatically upon closing. Na Na Na Na Na Na! Bet 'ya feel stupid now! The two Jedi attacked the refreshments, including the pecurliar tasting punch, which for one reason or another had charcoal briquets floating in it and tasted peculiarly similar to Slim Fast (TM). They had passed out in minutes, Obi-Wan curled up on a pile of throw pillows and Qui-Gon collapsed in an overstuffed lounge chair.
Pyla and Reea emerged from the shadows. "Two down," Pyla started.
“And two to go!" Reea finished the statement. The two collapsed in giggles.
"Pyla, you go get their ship off the roof, and I'll cover them up. The symptoms of our brew, aside from the sedating, should kick in three hours from now. I just hope Maul and Sidious will have shown up by then."
Pyla grinned dementedly and scampered off to get the ship off the roof.... a new toy... joy! Reea pulled several sheets from under a sofa on one wall and threw them carefully over the prone Jedi. The fun wouldn't start until all the "guests" had passed out, and if Maul and Sidious suspected anything, they might not drink the already suspicious looking brew on the table. The sheets had to be arranged juuussst right. She disapeared back into the shadows, careful not to wake the now torporous Jedi. She needed to change before the next guests arrived... The Star Fleet uniform simply wouldn't cut it.
On the roof, Pyla was making short work of the ship. Entertaining, but short. The ship had been neat, tidy, and rather spartan in its furnishings. After all, it was a Jedi vessel, and the Jedi didn't make a habit of living in their ships. It was no longer plain, neat, or tidy. And far from spartan. But Pyla was on a timetable, and the sensors showed the approach of Palpatine's private yacht, the Senator One. She needed to change. The Darths probably wouldn't be interested in a Phantom of the Opera-esque serving girl...
“Master, this planet seems to be just one big Library. Where are we to land?"
“Just keep orbiting, that twit had to have landed somewhere." He caught sight of the landing pad. "Like there. Land."
“Master, are you sure? I have a bad feeling about this."
“I said, 'Land.'"
“Master,I have a really bad feeling about this," Maul said, pouting in a most un-Sith-like fashion under his tattoos.
“I SAID LAND, DAMNIT!!"
Maul leaped into the air, but landed the ship, grumbling all the way to the roof so recently vacated by the Jedi's ship. They took the same path as the Jedi had before them, minus the sign. They just slammed the door, and it silently locked itself behind them.
They entered the Lounge a few moments later.
Pyla and Reea conversed telepathically in the shadows under some of the drapes.
Now?
No, Pyla, not now. They need to find the brew first, then we distract them from it!
And, I hope, from the lumpy sofas?
Yes, Pyla, and from the lumpy sofas.
Reea, why do we have to wear these ridiculous clothes... or should I say, lack thereof?
Pyla, quit complaining and be glad that you can wear these.
WHAT'S THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN?
SHHH!! They're telepathic too, ya know!
Telepathic my--
PYLA!!
In the main room, Darth Maul was still too busy sulking to notice the telepathic noise, and Sidious had never been all too good at it. Aim was everything. The punch bowl beckoned...
“Maul! Come look at this... mess..."
“Yes, my Master." Maul's voice had an edge of defiance, and he finished examining his nails before going to his master's side.
“What do you make of this, Maul?"
“It looks like a punch bowl full of punch that someone tried to lace with carbon. I think they forgot to mix it properly."
Pyla and Reea took their cue. The twins sauntered out, wearing not much at all, much to Pyla's disdain. She missed her combat boots, and she didn't like the stainless steel brasiere look. Reea, on the other hand, never wore shoes to begin with, and she was something of an exhibitionist. She liked her loincloth.
Darth Maul and Sidious liked her loincloth too. The "Jabba's slave girl" costume was a definite hit. It always was. Maul's jaw was somewhere south of Antarctica and Sidious's eyes were the size of dinner plates. The drugged Jedi stirred, sensing a... disturbance in the Force, shall we say? Pyla supressed the urge to bat the wiggling toes of Obi-Wan. She'd always been a bit more playful... even if her toys were a little... odd. The Darths didn't notice... the loincloths were distracting.
“Hi boys. I see you found the Library. Want some punch?" Reea purred, her voice about an octave lower than usual. The Darths babbled something incoherent and nodded their heads frantically. Pyla rolled her eyes and stomped over to the table to get the Darths some punch. This had better be worth it... Reea slinked over to the Darths, putting one arm around each now slobbering humanoid's neck.
“You seem like you could use a drink," she purred. They nodded frantically and babbled some more. She leaned closer to Darth Sidious. "Mmm... Nice aftershave." The Darths were now drooling. Profusely. Pyla was utterly disgusted with her sister, and with the Sith lords. She'd come to expect more. But then again, when you come across a group that exonerates base emotions, you never knew what to think. She returned with two frosted glasses, brimming with the strange concotion. There were several charcoal briquets in each glass. The Darths didn't even look at her, or the drinks, but gulped them down, briquets and all. They fell over within a minute.
“Sleep well, boys. Don't dream of me."
“I don't see how you can stand to do that, Reea."
“Its fun, if you can manage to forget who you're purring at... Bleh! Darth Sidious, and a guy with a crown of horns? He had to cover his face with tattoos, what does that tell you?"
“Meeeow..."
“What, you're going to tell me I'm wrong? Sidious is old enough to be my grand-father. Or, at least, he looks like it."
“I don't want to lose my lunch thinking about it, thanks."
“Just help me get them ready. They've got a long night ahead of them, and we don't want them turning on lightsabers and killing our other guests."
“What about shoes? Do I get to take their shoes?"
Reea groaned. "If you absolutely must..."
“I must! I must! No, wait, changed my mind."
Reea groaned louder.
“Is there something stuck in your throat, Reea? You seem to be having some sort of problem." Pyla was grinning pseudo demonically. Reea glared at her. "Yes, I'm having a problem. Namely my twin sister who has lived far longer than anyone would believe, including me. I really wonder how you lived this long."
“The same could be said of you, darling. Now, are we going to rid these naughty, naughty boys of all their dangerous possessions, or are we going to hurl insults at each other all night?"
“You mean we can't do both?"
"Reea, I don't see why not. You know what, you're a computer generated git!" Pyla said in a very pleasant tone of voice, grinning wider than one would have thought the skin of her face would allow. Reea glowered at her and got to work attaching peices of foam to Darth Maul's horns. They were dangerous enough without the double-edged lightsaber. The trick with Force-sensitives was to keep the lightsabers in a location that the Force wouldn't be able to pull them out of. Namely the abyss of doom, aka Pyla's closet. Rarely does anything come back from there, and when it does, it's usually because Reea waded in after it. And yes, we do mean waded.
Qui-Gon chose that moment to begin experiencing the side-effects associated with the brew he'd drunk earlier. The side-effects were different for everyone. Qui-Gon, being in tune with the living Force as he was, was levitating. The twins didn't notice until it suddenly occured to them that the sheet covering Qui-Gon was now several feet off the floor. That was mere moments before Qui-Gon began ricocheting off the walls. It was almost as if he'd taken the idea of "light as a feather, stiff as a board" a bit too seriously.
As he shot by, Pyla leaped and grabbed his belt, dragging herself up onto his chest in a desperate attempt at steering the speeding Jedi. Brain damage from too many encounters of the solid kind with the walls weren't part of the night's plans.
Reea was busy trying very hard to find Darth Sidious' lightsaber. Darth Maul was like most Jedi, even Dark Jedi, and kept his on his belt. Unfortunately, Sidous wasn't half as acomodating. Under those robes of his, he was wearing a pair of jeans and a tee-shirt. Neither had a lightsaber clipped to them, and Reea didn't want to go looking in his pockets. Or maybe Sidious just didn't carry one.. he had a rather... electric reputation.
Reea gave up on finding a weapon on the old man and returned to attaching bits of foam to Darth Maul's head. Pyla whizzed through the room, still attempting to steer the careening Jedi. She was howling at the top of her lungs.
"HOW DO YOU STOP THIS THING???"
"Pyla, be polite. Qui-Gon is a Master Jedi, not a "thing.""
"FINE, THEN HOW DO YOU STOP THIS MASTER JEDI????" Before Reea could reply, Qui-Gon had sped into the next room, Pyla still screeching on his chest.
Obi-Wan also reacted to the brew at that moment. He got up and began wandering the Library completely randomly. He also seemed capable of climbing, as witness his Tarzan impression off the top of the shelves. Using the Force, he managed to avoid serious injury, but he was definitely going to be wondering for some time how he came by a bruise the size of a small throw rug on his back.
As Pyla whirled through the room again, she had somehow gotten a rope wrapped around Qui-Gon's ankles, and was "skiing" behind the still comatose Jedi. As a result of Obi-Wan's wandering, a ramp of books had formed, which she skiied up, flying into the air, still shrieking.
"Pyla, wouldn't it be a good idea to attach that rope to something semi-immobile?"
"FIND A HAMMER, ABOUT 3 MILLION NAILS, AND SOMETHING IMMOBILE, THEN!!! I'LL TACK HIM DOWN ON THE NEXT PASS!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH HH!!!!"
"Whatever you say, Pyla." Reea loped into the antechamber she and Pyla used as a mission control of sorts for the "parties." In one of many drawers lining the walls to the cielings she found the requested implements of destruction. From the sound of Pyla's high pitched wail of frustration and not a little bit of fear, it sounded like she had a few seconds left before the next pass through the Lobby. She was back in the Lobby before Pyla reached it, and when she finally did arrive about a second later, Reea threw the hammer and nails to her.
"Nail him to the floor! He can't pull a solid marble slab! No one is that strong with the Force!" Pyla frantically used most of the nails to attach the end of the rope to the floor. Wonder of wonders, the rope held. For about a minute and a half. Then Qui-Gon resumed his headlong flight, now pursued by a large chunk of marble tile. Pyla shrieked in rage, but stayed on the floor.
"How do we stop the runaway Jedi?"
"Umm... speaking of runaway Jedi, we've got a walk-away and climb-away Jedi on our hands, too. Obi-Wan is wandering. He already leaped off a bookshelf, executed several mid-air flips, and cartwheeled across the floor. I just hope he doesn't try that particular trick again... not until we get the floor repaired, anyway."
As if their problems weren't already big enough, Maul and Sidious had begun to respond to the brew. Sidious was snoring uproariously, also singing in a rather strained falsetto.
"Seenging in the raayn, just seenging int he raayn...etc." Sidious twitched a bit, as if trying to dance to his own accompaniement. Reea walked over to him and stuck a gag in his mouth. The only thing the gag accomplished was to muffle the noise somewhat.
Maul, on the other hand, was making almost intelligent conversation, and Pyla was talking back to him. Maul was wriggling on the floor as he talked.
"So, the elephants are eating the squids now?"
"No! They're chewing on the door frame, the squids are sucking on pens."
"Ah... That would explain the ink jets, wouldn't it?"
"Something like that, yes."
"Maul, did you eat paint chips as a child?"
"One of my favorite condiments, actually. Why do you ask?"
"Just checking on a hunch, that's all. I'm going to go now, Maul. Sleep well."
"Yeah, ok. But could you tell the turkey to come down off the roof?"
"Shooor..." Pyla walked away from the still twitching, still talking, Sith Lord.
"Umm... Reea? I think all our plans just got shot to shit."
"What makes you think that, Pyla?"
"Umm... Darth Maul just asked me to tell the turkey to get off the roof, Sidious is singing and dancing in his sleep, and the Jedi are wandering or zooming hither and yon. Did you plan on that?"
"No, I must say that I had not expected Qui-Gon to have such hyper-active tendencies."
"And what are we supposed to do about Sidious and Maul? Sidious is singing... if you can call THAT singing, and Maul is babbling about turkeys, squids, and elephants! This time WE're the ones who are being terrorized, and neither one of us is drugged... Are you?"
"I haven't gone for my swim in the champagne fountain yet if that's what you're asking."
"Something like that." Reea glanced over Pyla's shoulder. "PYLA! DROP!! INCOMING JEDI MASTER!!!" Unfortunately, Obi-Wan did not hear Reea's screamed warning, and so Master and Padawan collided and the force of the collision caused yet another encounter of the solid kind with a wall and a few bookshelves. Luckily, this halted the wanderings of the two "guests" that had been causing the most ulcers on the part of Reea. The acid content of her stomach dropped a few gallons.
"Pyla, get that rope off his ankles and help me tie them to all the bookshelves and heavy objects we can find! AND DON'T GO ANYWHERE NEAR THAT SUPPORT COLUMN!!!"
"But, why? Wouldn't that keep them still?"
"You saw what Qui-Gon alone did to the floor. I'd really rather not witness the damage two Jedi can do to one support beam. Those beams are placed strategically so that the roof stays where roofs belong, over our heads instead of on them."
"Ah. Yousa point is well-seen, mesa think."
"And get rid of Jar-Jar, we'll terrorize him some other time."
"Whatever. How much of this rope should we reserve for the bookshelves and heavy stuff?" Pyla held up a seemingly endless length of rope, at least as thick around as her forearm.
"Umm.. I have a sneaking suspicion that we've got enough rope for you to have some fun."
Pyla laughed menacingly and looked at the still senseless Jedi. Reea turned her back on ther twin, never a good idea, but unavoidable at the moment. Darth Sidious had removed his gag, and was roller-blading around the Lobby. Reea wondered how he managed to navigate, then stopped wondering when he crashed head first into the growing pile of Jedi. Darth Maul was also careening wildly around the room, but he was still talking about the eggplants on the cieling fan. Reea decided it might be a good idea to convince even an unconscious Maul to sit down. Those horns of his were coming unwrapped, and if he should run into someone.... Problems could arise. At least he no longer had his lightsaber...
Pyla, meanwhile, had completely cocooned the Jedi, and still had a nearly unending piece of rope in her hands. She was now rounding up most of the (recently) emptied bookshelves and tying the Jedi to them. All that showed were Qui-Gon's ponytail, Obi-Wan's braid, and Darth Sidious' roller blades.
"Umm... Pyla? I think you're suffocating our guests."
"What gives you that idea? Don't you see the little straws sticking out between the ropes? They're getting air...."
"I certainly hope so, for your sake. I was planning on getting Maul to teach me a few moves so that the next time one of the researchers tried to grope me I could break him into a few peices and scatter them randomly about the galaxy. He can't do that if he's busy reviving his Master."
Pyla chirped at her sister, half sarcastically and half serious (or as serious as Pyla gets, anyway), "You and Maul make such a cute couple!"
"Cute isn't the word I would choose..."
Half an hour later, the Jedi were careening about the room again. At least since Qui-Gon's recovery of consciousness they were slowing down, but inertia always has been and always will be a force to be reckoned with. Not even the time/space distortion that made the Library's functions possible could mess with inertia. Reea had been running this way and that all night, trying to get Maul back where he was supposed to be. It was only entertaining when the guests stayed still!
"Maul! Get back here, please! You never finished explaining to me your theories about the correlation between solar flares and missing socks!"
"Oh, they're not connected." Maul continued wandering the Library. His wanderings were aimless, though they were conducted at an incredible rate of speed. When he finally wandered back into the main Lobby, and collapsed on his sofa, he had stamps from several ports around the world, and Reea was about ready to collapse.
Which was when things got really interesting. Darth Maul had reentered Deep Sleep, and left the talkative REM stage behind, and so he was likely to be staying stationary.
During Reea's absence, Qui-Gon had extricated himself from the ropes, and he and Pyla had been talking about... plans. Fun plans. But not fun for Reea. Qui-Gon came into the room just as Reea nearly collapsed from exhaustion on a small mountain of throw pillows. He was waving his hands around.
"You are extremely thirsty."
Too tired to resist, Reea replied, "I am extremely thirsty."
"You will drink whatever you are given."
"I will drink whatever I am given, so long as it isn't Dr. Pepper or Earl Gray, hot."
"Close enough. Pyla, come in."
"Close enough, Pyla, stay out." Qui-Gon abruptly stopped waving his hands with a look of confusion etched across his normally either blank or certain features.
"What?"
"She's got a natural resistance, Qui-Gon. But she'll drink the brew." And Reea did.
"Qui-Gon, you are infuriating!"
"I can't help the fact that cards aren't your strong suit, Pyla."
"Bad, Qui-Gon, very bad. No punning at the card table. We're only doing this to pass the time between now and the beginning of Reea's entertainment."
"Yes, Pyla, I know. But why can't I pun?"
"Because it's a horrible habit and causes me physical pain when you do. So stop."
"Of course." Before the discussion could progress any further, Reea began singing.
"One hundred bottles of Romulan ale on the wall, one hundred bottles of ale!"
"Oh smeg, wrong universe!"
"Like you aren't doing worse, Pyla?”
"Who gives. She's reacting. Let the fun begin."
Reea woke up to the sensation of fingers of steel digging into her left ankle, and the sight of Darth Maul's horns buried in the cieling directly in front of her face. Darth Maul was snarling his displeasure at being hung on the cieling like an ornament, and Sidious was bordering on caterwauling his disgust. Wait a second... THE CIELING IN FRONT OF HER FACE???
"PYLA!!!!"
Far below, on the main floor of the Library of Ket, Pyla looked up with a huge grin on her face. "Well, sister dearest, what do you think of my fashion sense?" Reea suddenly noticed that all three of the suspended victims were wearing frilly yellow clown suits with randomly colored polka dots.