“All right, that’s enough, Old Man!” The voice of Dav Harrin cut through Gilad’s concentration. “What in the name of the Sith are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m starting to pack. We ship out to our postings in a week.” Gilad Pellaeon plucked down a precariously-balanced stack of datacards from the shelf above his bed. As they began to topple he directed the cascade into a packing box strategically placed on the mattress.

“Are you brainburned?” Dav caught his roommate by the shoulders and swung him away into the center of their small dorm room. “We graduated today from the Academy! We have our commissions. Classes are over. We have an entire week’s leave! You can pack tomorrow. Tonight, we party!”

“Party?” Gilad looked at his friend thoughtfully. “Where?”

“At the Dancing Triffid. I’ve made reservations in their main room for all of us - you, me, and as many of our class as can come. We’re gonna do it up grand.”

Gilad smiled at last, his serious expression relaxing. “All right, I’m with you, Dav.”

“Excellent! Wouldn’t want you to miss the fun.” Dav clapped his hands and grinned wickedly. “You know what today is, don’t you?”

“You just said it: graduation day.”

“You’re right.” Dav held up two fingers, wiggling them for emphasis. “Today we graduated. But in addition to that, for us it’ll be ‘losing it night’.

Gilad stared at Dav. “Lose what?” His eyes narrowed. “Dav, you’ve got a girlfriend already.”

“Ahh, but you don’t, Old Man. It’s about time we launched you into life properly.”

“I’m perfectly capable of launching myself, thank you very much,” Gilad snorted. “Don’t knock yourself out on my account.” He eyed his wardrobe closely and selected a uniform tunic that looked clean. “Besides, your idea of launching usually involves a painful crash and burn. I’d rather be able to land in one piece.”

“Three years of schooling and no girlfriends, and I know you’re not into guys.” Dav shook his head and put on an air of mock concern. “Don’t you know you could go blind?”

“Three years stuck with a Sullustan sybarite. I’m surprised I haven’t lost my mind yet, never mind anything else.” Gilad’s scowl rolled off Dav’s forcefield of cheer. “Look, let’s just say I haven’t been trying all that hard because I’ve wanted to get through school and I didn’t want to split my attention. I concentrate better on one thing at a time.”

“So now you can start looking!”

“All right, fine. I’m officially free to start looking. Happy?” Gilad fastened his collar and tugged the sleeves down. A quick glance in the mirror on the back of the door showed a stalwart young man with auburn hair cut short as per Academy regs, grey eyes, and an honest face. His Navy uniform looked tidy at least and his reflection relaxed and smiled. Dav’s grinning reflection joined his own as* Dav fastened his belt, straightened his uniform and ran a comb through his dark hair.

“Yep, I’m happy.” Dav flung the comb in the direction of his bed. “We’re ready to conquer the galaxy! Or at least the local tapcafe.” Dav grabbed Gilad’s wrist and towed him toward the door. “C’mon, we’ve gotta round up the rest of the scurvy crew before the night gets any older.”

“That at least I can do.” Gilad followed Dav out into the corridor of the upper class dorm and began the task of rousting out the rest of his friends.

***

The Dancing Triffid was in fine good form by the time the newly-minted ensigns piled out of their transports. Music and light spilled from the oval windows, sparkling into the busy streets of Karinden, the capital city of Raithal. The Academy’s austere buildings were comfortably out of sight, hidden by the twinkling skyline of tall skyscrapers and the glow from the shipyards. Raithal was not as heavily developed as Coruscant, but it was no backwater agricultural world. For centuries the elite of the galaxy had sent their promising young men and women here to train for careers in the service of the Republic. The world reflected the many years of money and technology that went into turning out fine starships as well as the officers who would someday command them.

Gilad followed his classmates through the doors and into the nightclub. A tall silver-plated droid led them around the eating area reserved for families and into a large room beyond. This had been decorated with an Academy motif of old battle banners while holos of famous warships floated above in a simulated starfield. Gilad snagged a couple of ales from a wait-droid, handed one to Dav, and began searching for someplace to sit. Dav strayed off, drawn by the bevy of brightly-clad ladies clustered around an informal game of sabacc. Already the place had filled up, partly with Academy students, and partly with Triffid regulars wishing to socialize with them.

Threading his way around the tables, Gilad found himself a quieter corner near a window and a table occupied by only one person, a young woman. He paused and gazed over her shoulder. She had spread out a series of blueprints and was studying them intently, making notes on a datapad.

“A Star Shuttle? They’re not very common anymore. Supposed to be decently fast, for a nonmilitary ship.”

The woman looked up at him. Her hair was long and dark, pulled back into a ponytail* and her skin was warmly brown. She wore a spacer’s utility jumpsuit with a bright red overshirt combined with practical boots and so did not seem to have come to the club to dance. Her pale gaze traveled up his uniform till it reached his face. “She’s as fat as a Gamorrean matriarch.” The woman traced a finger over the drawing of the ship’s hull. “Look at it. I’m amazed she can even get through an atmosphere.” She sighed and shook her head. “She’s got lots of space inside, I’ll give her that, but she’s just not a pretty ship.”

“I wouldn’t care about pretty as much as I would her armor and armament. It’s no good if you want to haul passengers or cargo if you can’t defend it.” Gilad looked down at the images. “Are you considering buying and modifying? If so, there are a number of things you could do to improve the ship.”

“Really?” The woman smiled up at him. “Have a seat and tell me more.” As Gilad sat, setting his drink down carefully to one side of the stack of drawings, she added. “I’m Jon Konrad. My folks are independent traders and we’re looking to upgrade our stock of ships.”

“Ensign Gilad Pellaeon at your service.” Gilad used his rank without thinking, but managed to hold back the salute that was also nearly a reflex after three years of Academy discipline.

Jon grinned at him. “Just graduated, then?”

“Yes. I’ll be getting my posting tomorrow.”

“Hope it’s a good one, s’been a wild galaxy lately. They need all the competent help they can get.” Jon nodded at the blueprints. “So, Ensign Pellaeon, what would you recommend?”

Gilad tugged the drawings around for a better view then began to riffle through the stack. “First, we find the original specs for the shields and armor and compare them with any mods the former owners put in. If they only sent you the original plans you need to get the as-built mods. Only when you can put them side-by-side will you really know what you’ve got to work with.”

“Sounds good to me.” Jon began searching through lists of specs on her datapad. “I’ll pull those up. And then?”

“Then the real work begins. We’ll need…”

***

“Is it me, or is it getting noisier in here?” Jon half-shouted her observation to Gilad and cupped a hand to her ear as she tried to hear her companion’s reply over the combination of loud music and competing conversations filling the room.

Gilad pulled himself out of the world of starship design and glanced around the hall reserved for his Academy-mates and their graduation party. “It’s gotten louder.” He smiled at Jon. “I think the noise level increases after every round of drinks.”

“Good point.” Jon made a few more notations in her datapad. “Maybe we should go somewhere quieter to finish this up? I could always buy you dinner at the Silver Star down the street - I owe you big for all your help.”

“Thanks, I’ll take you up on that, assuming I can leave my mates safely alone. Sounds like they’re trying to tear down the walls back there.” He poked a thumb toward the far end of the room, where a crowd of Academy students and various hangers-on were gathered around a large table, shouting, gesturing, and laughing.

“What, are you responsible for them?”

“I’m one of the Hall Commanders,” said Gilad, squinting in an effort to see through the haze of smoke generated by various combustible stimulants. “Or I was. In theory, now that we’ve graduated, I don’t need to look after them any more, but it’s become something of a habit.” He frowned at the distant knot of people. At least two persons, one woman and one graduate, appeared to be writhing around on top of the table with a crowd of observers cheering them on. Some looked as if they were placing bets. “What are they doing back there? Wrestling on the table?”

Jon closed down her datapad, rolled up her blueprints, and looked in the direction of Gilad’s pointing finger. Her eyes widened and she grinned. “Um… I don’t think they’re exactly wrestling.”

Gilad stared in incomprehension at the grappling pair atop the table. Gradually a slow flush climbed into his cheeks. “Aeolela’s Beauty! They’re doing that right out in the open?”

“Not into public displays of affection?” Jon twigged him gently.

“That’s not affection, that’s rutting pure and simple.” Gilad frowned. “We’re supposed to be role models to the citizens.”

“You know the old adage; it’s better to make love and not war,” said Jon, her eyes sparkling with merriment. “I’d say they’re being very good role models.”

Gilad snorted. “I’m from Corellia and while we’re adventurous, something like that is not considered proper public behavior. They could at least get a room, for pity’s sake.” He rose to his feet, his expression one of disapproval. “I’d better go and talk to them.”

Jon shook her head and caught his arm. “If I were you, I’d leave them to their sport. They’re not hurting anything. Come with me and we’ll get some dinner, then you can return and collect them later once they’ve passed out. I doubt if they’ll be going anywhere, after all.”

“I’ve got to at least try and talk some sense into them.” Gilad patted Jon’s hand as he slipped from her grasp. “Wait for me, this shouldn’t take long.” Spine straight, he strode off toward the back of the room, Jon’s reply lost in the bedlam of crowd noise.

As he made his way up to the roistering group, Gilad found it harder to wade through the packed bodies of his compatriots and any number of giggling ladies. The smells of drink, sweat, smoke, and perfume caught in his throat. At last he spotted the back of a familiar head and pushed his way closer to grab the man by the shoulder. “Dav! Dav! What the blazes is going on here?”

Dav half-turned to clutch Gilad by the front of his tunic and pull him up alongside his position. They were very close to the table and Gilad took one look down, blushed, and flung up a hand to screen his view.

“We’re celebrating, Old Man!” Dav shouted into his ear over the sounds of groaning and panting. “Told you before we left, we’ve graduated and it’s Losing It night.”

“In public? Have you also lost your mind?” Gilad yelled in protest. “If our professors hear-”

“Ah, but they won’t! They’re all out on leave.” Dav’s smile was antic. “Weren’t you paying attention to ancient Academy traditions? All the profs blow town right after the graduation ceremony. They won’t be seeing anything. They don’t want to see anything.” He laughed merrily. “Besides, we’re not in public, we’ve rented this hall for our party an’ everything’s fine.” Dav put an arm around Gilad’s shoulder and pulled him closer to speak in a conspiratorial tone. “We’ve retained the services of some of the finest professional Ladies, too. When they heard of our celibate plight, they were eager to help.”

“Dav, we’re supposed to be behaving in a proper manner.”

“We can behave ourselves for the rest of our lives. Tonight, though, we’re having a little fun.” Dav chuckled at Gilad’s expression. “Will you cool your engines? It’s all perfectly legal. Rowdy maybe, but legal.”

Dav was right, Gilad did have a vague memory of his favorite Astrogation professor mentioning looking forward to her vacation after graduation. At least it meant none of his classmates were going to end up arrested for ‘disorderly conduct’ this night. He gave Dav a curt nod as he conceded defeat. “All right, have your fun then. Meet you back at the dorm, I’m going.” Gilad turned away but found his progress halted as Dav tightened his grip.

“No you don’t Old Man. You can’t leave now. After all, you’re next.”

“I told you before, no thanks.” Gilad looked out into the crowded room. “I’ve already found a date and I don’t want to leave her waiting.” He did not see Jon near their former table and frowned. “You better not be making me late. Now let go.” He wasn’t sure when Jon had made the transition from pleasant company to ‘date’, but now that he’d made the mental connection he was unwilling to give up the thought.

Dav scanned the room and shook his head. “I don’t see anyone looking like they’re waiting for you. What’ve you been drinking to start imagining girlfriends?”

“I haven’t been drinking anything funny!”

Dav shook his head in mock pity. “C’mon, Old Man, you’ll have your pick of the Ladies, and they’re right here, available. Don’t go chasing imaginary girls.”

“She isn’t imaginary! If you’ve scared her off I’m going to be flamed. Let go!” With a strong half-twist Gilad freed himself from Dav’s grasp and began to push through the surrounding mob of Academy graduates, trying to peer over their heads in hopes of catching a glimpse of Jon’s red overshirt. To his irritation he couldn’t see her anywhere. “Shavvit,” he muttered. His annoyance deepened when he found his progress blocked by his classmates, who seemed to be in on the joke and were intent on corralling him near the table. “Chang, Timmons, let me by, you’re making me late!” He tried to bull his way between them.

His friends grinned in a manner eerily similar to Dav and pushed him back into Dav’s arms. “Not till we’ve gotten you started.”

Chang stood slightly aside to allow a pair of brightly-coiffed and scantily clad Ladies to approach. They looked at Gilad appraisingly, but spoke to Dav. “Is this the one who is new?”

While Gilad struggled to find something to say, tongue-tied with outrage, Dav chirped up at once. “Yep, brand new and never used. I’m worried he’s gonna die untried, an’ that’d be a crime.”

“It sure would,” the Lady on the left agreed. She was dressed in a rainbow bodyribbon that left nothing to the imagination. “Hello, you cute thing.” Leaning in she patted Gilad’s chest then swept her hands downward. Gilad bucked away at the far too intimate contact, pushing Dav back a step, bumping him against the table. “Oh, the poor boy. He’s shy. Don’t worry honey, Ritta and I are certified Initiators. You’ll be fine.”

“Dav, I’m going to kill you if you don’t let me go right now.” Gilad’s voice was a low rumble in his chest. His irritation and embarrassment had begun to turn into pure anger and he wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere. Anywhere.

“You can go as soon as you’re done here. I’m not gonna let you waste the opportunity.”

Dav moved his hands, one gripping Gilad’s right shoulder while the other touched the left side of his neck. Gilad heard a soft popping sound followed by a burning sting. Odd numbing warmth began to spread beneath his skin. He started and jerked away. “What was that?”

“See? I did listen to Colonel Megid in Tactics class. That was just a little something I brought along in case you were uncooperative, Old Man.” Dav held up an empty ampoule between his forefinger and thumb, the military code rings around the end of the capsule glittering in shades of red and yellow. “I nicked it from the Interrogation lab. It should help you relax.”

“Bavo 6?! A full dose?” Gilad’s stomach dropped and he felt chilled to the marrow, the cold grip of fear entirely erasing the hot flush of embarrassment he’d been suffering only moments earlier. I have three minutes to get myself clear. He could feel his heart pounding and thought with a grimace, maybe even less time than that.

Gilad gritted his teeth. Now for the opening salvo. Without warning he punched out straight from the shoulder, his fist smashing into Dav’s jaw, sending him flying backward to crash on the table. Dav’s landing was somewhat cushioned by the occupants, who squeaked in surprise before his momentum skidded them all off to land in a heap on the floor. Gilad did not bother to watch, immediately turning in place and catching Chang in the side of the head with his elbow. Chang dropped like a stone, a look of amazement on his face. The Ladies shrieked and ducked away. Timmons actually had time to try and* get his guard up, but he was slow from the effects of too much drink and Gilad brushed his defenses aside easily and sent him to join the unfortunate Chang on the deck. So far, so good, thought Gilad, if I can make it out the back door before the drug kicks in…

“Stop him, you guys!” This muffled command came from Dav, bleeding from a split lip, as he hauled himself up over the edge of the table. “Don’t let ‘im get away! For the honor of the Academy!”

“Honor my ass.” Gilad slammed his way through two more of his classmates, putting all his martial arts training to practical use. It felt good to be able to hit things and he gave his anger full rein in the effort to get away. While he busied himself with his fists, part of his mind noted that his knees were beginning to feel unstable and he scowled in frustration. So much for three minutes, he thought as he made another hard-fought few steps toward his goal. The entire group of his fellows seemed to have rallied at Dav’s call for assistance and for every inebriant Gilad felled, two more were waiting to take his place. Gilad was being struck and scratched in return, but his blood was up and he didn’t feel it. As he ducked a flying kick and let the attacker careen into the man behind him, the room suddenly tilted, the colors seeming to blur and run together. Shavvit, out of time. His knees buckled and he would have collapsed except for the press of bodies around him.

“We’ve got ‘im!” someone shouted exultantly. Many hands grabbed Gilad and pulled him up as he sagged, which was probably a good thing since his legs no longer seemed to be connected to his body. As they dragged him away, Gilad’s mind insisted on replaying a memory of the last Interrogation lecture he had heard.

“Bavo 6, a useful tool in the interrogator’s arsenal.” Professor Torrin’s dry voice said, although filtered through the drug it had a watery sound as he continued. “When administered under the appropriate stressful conditions, it induces fear and paranoia in most normal human subjects, opening them to suggestion and hence encouraging them to be more forthcoming in their answers. When administered without mental or physical duress, it can cause a number of effects including the relaxation of inhibitions, muscle weakness, euphoria, hallucinations which some people consider pleasant, and vasodilatation. You will now all take a metered half-dose and proceed to make note of the effects on yourselves. Remember, such drugs are not to be used lightly.”

“Not used lightly,” Gilad muttered as he was lifted and dumped unceremoniously on his back on the table. Above him a face that might have been Dav’s grinned down at him. Gilad wasn’t sure if the distortion was due to the drug’s effect on his vision, or the simple fact that Dav’s jaw was swollen from his punch.

“Here he is, Dav. Bleeding stars, he fights like a Wookie!”

“Oh, he’s a brave fellow, our Old Man, no doubt of that.” Dav sat down on Gilad’s right arm and motioned to his comrades. “Help hold him while I get this uniform off.” Dav began to work at the fastenings of Gilad’s tunic. “Ladies, in a few minutes he’s going to be a lot more cooperative, so you should decide who is going first.” The Ladies in question giggled and joined the group of young men at the table.

“Dav, you Huttslime, don’t you remember what this stuff does to me?”

“It makes most of you relaxed, as I recall.” Dav loosened the collar of Gilad’s uniform and tugged at his belt. “But not the important parts.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear,” cooed the Lady in the rainbow ribbon, leaning over to help Dav with the work of undressing their captive.

Through the haze of the drug her face and shimmering attire blended and ran together into an impressionistic puddle. Above her head the ceiling seemed to rotate. Gilad felt his stomach do a slow loop and roll. He croaked through clenched teeth. “Let me up, now.” When neither Dav nor the Lady showed any sign of obeying his command, Gilad deliberately relaxed. A moment later his stomach ejected the evening’s food and drink and that earned him a brief reprieve as people scrambled to get out of the way. Gilad pushed himself up on shaky arms to survey the damage. The Lady who had been so close was now fleeing toward the ‘fresher, as were several of the men. Well, I may not get awards for accuracy, but I did manage fair coverage, he thought with dark humor. Freeing one leg from the grip of a distracted Ensign, he kicked Dav in the chest, knocking him down on his rump. “Warned you. Bavo 6 makes me sick.”

“Barf all you want, you ain’t leaving until we’ve finished this!” Undiscouraged, Dav floundered around until one of his companions helped him up.

As the graduates closed in again, Gilad bared his teeth in a snarl. I wonder if this is how Wookies feel when they’re angry? Everything is distorted and I’m sick and all I want to do is rip off their arms and legs.

With a thunderous roar the back window and much of the surrounding wall of the Dancing Triffid burst open to admit a sleek dark swoop. People screamed and ducked for cover as the flying machine surged into the room, scattering tables and smashing dishes. The swoop careened to a stop beside Gilad’s table. He blinked to try and bring the vehicle and its helmeted rider into focus, without much success. The swoop’s rider was wearing a full helmet and protective goggles which concealed most of her face but her overshirt was a familiar red color, and her voice was also familiar.

“Someone call for pickup service?”

“Yes!” Gilad flung an arm in Jon’s general direction. There seemed to be three of her, so he aimed for the one in the middle. He felt her firm grasp on his wrist. She gave a tug, pulling him across the table to a position where she could get a better purchase on his body. A strong lift and he found himself seated behind her on the swoop.

“Hold on.” Jon cranked the swoop’s controls, sending the machine swiftly backward. After knocking down a few more Academy graduates, the swoop exited the club through the hole in the wall Jon had created moments before. The jolting force of their backward movement pushed Glad* against Jon’s back and he threw his arms around her waist to keep from falling off. When the swoop shot forward with open throttles, he decided against trying for a somewhat more decorous handhold, resting his head against the back of her shoulder and squeezing his eyes shut against the terrible glare of city lights.

“Sorry it took me so long, but I parked my swoop two blocks over and I had to run and fetch it when it looked like you were flying into trouble. Haven’t built in a slave circuit summoner yet,” she said apologetically.

“S’all right. You arrived in the nick of time, thanks.”

Jon chuckled as the swoop tore around a tall building, dropped swiftly, and nipped through an access way bisecting the Port Authority. “Looked like you had given them something to remember you by. At least they hadn’t yet started really pounding you into scrap.”

“They didn’t intend to beat me; they’d planned this whole thing so I could lose my virginity under their tender care.” Jon listened to this revelation in silence. Gilad realized he was probably saying far more than he would have normally, but now that he had started talking the words simply didn’t want to stop and he found the entire story spilling out in a long rush.

“I thought I was done when you showed up,” he finished. “Damned drugs made it nearly impossible to keep fighting.”

“I can’t believe your idiot friends. What were they thinking, shooting you full of military drugs? You could’ve died!”

“Not gonna die. Just wish I was dead.” Gilad opened his eyes and stared in appalled wonder at the bleeding blur of lights and shapes that refused to turn into anything recognizable. His stomach gave a warning lurch and he quickly gasped. “Put down and stop!”

Unlike Dav, Jon must have been able to interpret the tone of his voice, for she quickly brought the swoop to a halt at street level, allowing Gilad to dismount and stagger several steps before convulsive retching doubled him over.

“You’re sicker than a pink Trandoshan.” Jon made the sympathetic observation when Gilad returned to the swoop several minutes later, pale and wobbly-legged.

“I feel like something a Hutt coughed up,” Gilad admitted as he reached the swoop and swung his leg over the passenger seat. He nearly fell off the other side as the world refused to remain in a stable position. Gravity felt entirely arbitrary.

Jon grabbed the front of his tunic and steadied him. Fishing a handkerchief out of a pocket of her coverall, she wiped his face gently. “Easy, Ensign. Let’s get to my place and we’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Don’t want to be a bother,” he muttered. “Just take me back to the Academy.”

“What, and let your friends drag you out again and finish the job?”

Gilad winced. “Hadn’t thought of that. Dav is pretty stubborn. Now that he’s decided to do this thing, he’ll wait all night for me to show up.”

“Let ‘im wait then. Maybe he’ll get taken by Ferocifers.” Jon opened the throttles and let the machine gain altitude.*

“He’s really not a bad sort, just single-minded sometimes. He’s been a good friend, honestly.”

“Sure, a good friend who shoots you full of drugs and tries to get you publicly deflowered.” Jon’s voice had dropped to a predatory growl. “Everyone should have a friend like that. Keeps you from getting bored.”

Gilad laughed at her summary, but quickly had to clap a hand over his mouth to stave off another round of retching. He leaned against Jon’s back and clutched her shoulder for balance as she took the swoop gently down the darkened streets of the older part of town. “I could do without the serial vomiting, that’s for sure,” he muttered through his fingers once he felt the spasm had passed.

“Just hold on to your stomach, we’re almost there.” She flew the swoop around another block. Before them loomed the low buildings that marked the outer periphery of the local commercial spaceport. Slowing, Jon flew them through the service lanes that handled traffic to and from the individual landing bays. At last she slowed the vehicle further and maneuvered it through the entrance of bay number 257. This proved to be one of the larger facilities made to handle corvettes and big freighters. In the center of the bay sat a Gallofree medium transport. Gilad peered at the ship, trying to bring it into focus. It had been heavily modified from its original design and now sported extra defensive cannons. Racks for several small fighters decorated its upper surface as well. The ship glowed with lights.

“Here we are, home sweet home.” Jon parked the swoop near a boarding ramp and stepped off to give her passenger a steadying hand.

“This is your home?”

“Yep. For me, my mother, and the rest of the clan. Like I said before, we’re free traders and our home is our ship. Come on in and we’ll see about getting you cleaned up. Then you can sleep it off in safety.”

“Are you quite sure it’s not too much trouble?” Gilad asked as Jon drew him up the ramp and into the forward hold of the ship.

“It’ll be fine.” Jon guided him around stacks of cargo pallets loaded with shipping containers and into a hallway which funneled them into the crew quarters of the ship. “Welcome aboard the Piper’s Jaunt, Ensign Pellaeon.”

“I like the name.” He was about to ask about crew, when Jon led him into a large common room. Two other women were there, both of them dark-skinned like Jon. They were preparing food at the galley and looked up in surprise.

“Back so soon?” began the first woman, putting down the bowl she had been holding. She looked to be some years older than Jon. Her eyes widened a little when she saw Gilad. “Who’s your friend?”

“And why does he look so sick?” asked the second woman with a frown. “Jon, have you been out fighting again?”

“Not me, mother!” said Jon at once, holding up her hands and turning around in a quick pirouette. “See? Not a scratch on me.” Moving quickly, she caught Gilad under the arm as he swayed off balance and pulled him close to give better support. “Mom, this is Ensign Gilad Pellaeon. Gilad, this is my mother and Captain, Jenna Konrad, and that’s my Aunt Deena over there cooking dinner. She’s First Mate. Gilad has just graduated from the Academy and he was helping me with those specs on the new ship.” Jon’s smile was wry. “We were having a nice quiet time at the Triffid when Gilad’s Academy buddies decided to get a little out of hand.”

“That’s an understatement. I would’ve said they started a small war,” said Gilad. He straightened up as best he could and touched his forehead in a shaky salute to Jon’s mother. “Nice to meet you, Captain Konrad. Sorry to disturb you.” He repeated the gesture to Aunt Deena. “Evening, ma’am.” He squinted in the light.

“You’re a polite fellow, Ensign Pellaeon.” The elder Konrad smiled at him as he leaned against Jon. She sighed and shook her head. “Welcome aboard Piper’s Jaunt,” said Captain Konrad in a formal echo of Jon’s earlier greeting. Looking at her daughter she continued. “Well, don’t just stand there, take him back and put him to bed before he falls over.” The Captain waved a hand at the corridor leading away from the galley. “Deena, fix a hangover remedy, won’t you?”

“He’s not drunk, mom. His ‘friends’ gave him a dose of some military truth serum. Guess they thought it’d be funny.”

“What?!”

Jon’s mother walked up to Gilad, took his head in her hands to steady it, and peered into his eyes with a worried frown. Turning his face toward one of the lights overhead she watched the pupils of his eyes. Her frown became more pronounced. “How long ago were you dosed, Ensign?”

“Um. Not sure. I’ve kind of lost track of time. Fifteen minutes, maybe?” Gilad tried and failed to keep his eyes open against the brilliant glare and sighed with relief when Jenna quickly released him and he could look away.

“More like twenty minutes,” Jon added. “I took us on a tour of the city to make sure we’d lost any pursuit. I don’t think there was any, given how drunk a lot of the guys were, but I wanted to be sure. We also had to stop and let Gilad…” She halted her explanation and gave Gilad a look of embarrassment.

“Throw up my guts.” Gilad finished for her. “There’s no graceful way to say it. Bavo 6 makes me sick to my stomach. Only good side is it wouldn’t be of much use as a truth serum on me, which is kind’a nice to know.”

“How much did your friends give you?” asked Jenna.

“A full standard dose.” Gilad touched the injection site on his neck. “Not in the vein, but I think most of it is in my blood by now.”

“Wonderful,” said Jenna dryly. “I was going to say you should take a shower, but until that stuff works out of your system, we don’t dare let you do anything unescorted. You could faint and drown before any of us could help you.”

“I haven’t had help bathing since I was little.” Gilad shook his head, instantly regretting the movement. He squeezed his eyes shut as the interior of the galley wavered liquidly. The deck felt equally fluid under his feet and he clenched his teeth against a sudden resurgence of nausea.

Jenna sighed in exasperation. “Your friends are a treat. I’d like to give them a piece of my mind. Those military drugs are dangerous at the best of times. Best thing we can do right now is keep an eye on you and let you sleep it off.” She looked at her daughter. “Do what you can for him. Keep him out of the light; his pupils are all dilated and he could easily get retinal damage. He’s also in danger of dehydrating. I’ll mix up some hydro-sol and bring it back in a few minutes for him to sip. No food till morning, I’m afraid, since he won’t be able to keep it down.” The captain pulled open a compartment in the galley wall and began to rummage around among packages of food and drink. “Go on,” she said over her shoulder. “I’ll bring you the stuff as quickly as I can.”

“My cabin’s this way. Let’s get you cleaned up,” said Jon, once again taking up position by Gilad’s side and looping one of his arms over her shoulders. “Once you’re back to normal in the morning, you can do a more thorough job in private.” She walked him slowly out of the galley, taking a new passageway toward what he estimated was the bow of the ship.

After traveling up several corridors deeper into the crew living quarters, Jon triggered the lock on a cabin and helped Gilad inside. “Here we are.” Jon sat him down on the edge of a bed and disappeared into the ‘fresher.

Gilad took a quick look around. The cabin had been made to hold two crewmembers at the maximum; it was snug, orderly, and much to his relief neither frilly nor perfumed. Printouts of ship plans covered one bulkhead wall and a small desk supported a mound of technical manuals as well as a standard datacom station. He was sitting on a bunk that could be retracted to create more room; a second bunk above the first was folded away and apparently unused.

Jon returned with a washcloth and a basin of hot water. She applied the damp cloth vigorously to his face and neck, removing the remains of sickness, spilled ale, and sweat. “There. That’s better.” The cleanup task finished, she nodded briskly. “Ok, let’s get some of these clothes off you.” She grinned. “For some reason you smell as if you’ve been in a drunken brawl.”

“Ugh. You’re too right.” Gilad pulled at the thoroughly stained and rumpled front of his tunic. His belt was gone, the tunic hung half-open thanks to the efforts of Dav and his friends, and it looked very much as if it had been through a fight. Jon set the basin and cloth down on the night-table nearby and silently took the items of clothing as Gilad peeled out of them. “It was awfully good of your mother and aunt not to say anything. I’m in a right state.” His mouth quirked, “Or a ripe state.”

“These things happen to the best of us,” Jon replied philosophically as she dropped the soiled stuff into the arms of a small housekeeping droid which had rolled out from a cupboard in the bulkhead. “Mom and Aunt Deena have a lot of experience patching up the crew from shore leaves. They’ve seen worse. Once you’re better, remind me to tell you about our week on Coruscant last year. Half the family came down with bluespot and the other half overindulged in Sullustan ale. It was a mess.”

Reaching into a storage compartment she pulled out something that looked like a long shirt in soft grey fabric and offered it to Gilad. “Here, have a night shirt. I always get them three sizes larger than I need, so it ought to fit you.” She eyed his bare chest thoughtfully. “Unless you customarily sleep in the nude?”

“Only if it’s beastly hot in the dorm, thanks.” Gilad took the shirt and pulled it on over his head. Jon hadn’t been exaggerating the loose fit; it fell around his larger frame and past his hips with room to spare. Soon Jon had tugged off his boots and the breeches followed the rest of his uniform into the arms of the droid. The droid rolled away out the door, making noises that sounded like sniffs of disapproval. Jon chuckled and closed the cabin door behind it. Gilad began to lie down on the bunk, sitting up quickly with a strangled gasp as the room swirled and wavered.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can’t lie down flat,” he groaned. “Everything starts moving.”

“D’you need a basin?” she asked, hefting the one she had used for the clean up.

“Not… yet.” Gilad drew his knees up to his chest, wrapped his arms around them and rested his head on top of that structure. “I think I’ll just stay like this all night.” His tone was gloomy.

Jon shook her head. “That won’t do; you won’t get a moment’s sleep. Hold on a minute.” She pulled the spare bed down from the wall and plucked the pillows from it to build a supportive mound behind her patient. When she was done, Gilad was able to rest in a near-sitting position and found the room much more stable as a result.

“Thanks. I really do appreciate all your help.” Now that he could rest in relative comfort, the drug-fuelled adrenaline high collapsed into deep exhaustion and he found he could barely keep his eyes open. “”M* sorry about ruining your evening.”

“Not at all, honest.” Jon smiled at him as she took a seat near the bed and selected a book full of starship technical specs from her bookshelf. “I was planning on asking you to stay the night anyway.” Her only answer was a soft snore and her grin grew broader. “Sleep well, Ensign. Guess I’ll bring that subject up again in the morning.”

***

Gilad twitched awake, thoroughly disoriented, squinting in the dim light. He was lying in a room not his own, in an unfamiliar bunk, propped up against a mound of pillows. A small glow-lamp above a desk shed enough illumination for him to make out the room’s general layout, but hid much of the details in soft shadow. Where am I? He licked dry lips, his mouth tasted as if fleems had nested in it. Party, there was a party, I know that much. Carefully he turned his head to the right; relieved when the room seemed to remain stable. Beside the bunk was a chair made for lounging and reading, and in that chair sat a young woman, asleep. Her dark hair had drifted over her eyes a little when her head had relaxed forward. A book lay open in her lap and her hands were spread on the pages.

“Jon Konrad,” he murmured. “I remember you.”

The woman breathed deeply and blinked. Yawning, she stretched in her seat and looked at him with a smile. “I’m glad you do, Gilad Pellaeon. How do you feel?”

“Better, I think.” Gilad took stock of his current condition. “I’m not so dizzy, and the light doesn’t hurt my eyes. And I’m dying of thirst.”

“Oh! Mother will kill me!” Jon leaped up and took a container from the nearby table. Grabbing a cup from a cupboard above, she poured a quantity of liquid into the cup and gave it to Gilad. “Here, Mother brought it by hours ago, but you were sleeping so good we didn’t want to wake you. It’s hydro-sol, to replace what you lost when you got sick.”

He took the cup and sipped cautiously, then drank with greater confidence as the fluid lay nicely in his empty stomach. In a few moments the cup was empty.

“D’you remember how you got here?” Jon asked as she refilled his cup.

“Sort of.” Gilad frowned as he concentrated. “I was at a party - we graduated yesterday!” He nodded. “Yes. Dav arranged a celebration at the Dancing Triffid, which is where we met.” He smiled.

“So far, so good,” said Jon encouragingly.

“We were looking at plans to improve an old Star Shuttle.” Gilad’s smile faded. “That’s where it gets hazy.” His memories consisted of jumbled images of struggle, anger, and deep embarrassment. “I sort of remember getting into a scrap, but how?” He gave the cup to Jon and shifted uncomfortably, examining the back of his hands. The skin over his knuckles was broken and cut, while his muscles complained of hard use. “I’ve definitely been in a fight.” He touched the side of his neck, fingers finding a small clot of blood above a sore spot. “Drugs?” He frowned as a surge of fragmented thoughts coalesced into a memory of hands holding him down, laughing faces. “Dav. He… That r’shuggth!”

Jon grinned in amazement at Gilad’s sudden use of the Huttese obscenity. Quickly she reached to push him back into the bed as he began to climb out. “Whoa, Ensign, where do you think you’re going?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to return to the dormitory, find Dav, and finish what I started.”

“No you’re not! You’re still metabolizing a dose of Bavo 6. You may be feeling better, but I guarantee you start running around and you’ll get sick all over again. Give your body a fighting chance. Tomorrow you’ll be back to normal and then you can plot revenge at your leisure. I might even be persuaded to give you a hand.” She exposed her teeth in a wicked grin. “I haven’t had such a fun shore leave in a long time.”

“Bavo 6, I remember that, too.” Gilad’s expression became fierce. “That flaming idiot classmate of mine. I really want to go and rearrange his face for him right now.”

“Oh, but you’ve already got a good start on that,” Jon chuckled. “You might not recall, but you slugged your buddy so hard he flew clear across the table. If the lump on his face was any indication, you probably broke his jaw and loosened a bunch of his teeth. He’s gonna need time in the infirmary to mend it.” Jon pointed at Gilad’s battered knuckles. “You also pounded your way through a bunch of the conspirators, too.” She looked innocently at the ceiling. “I may have run over a few when I flew my swoop into the Triffid to pull you out.”

“Good. Maybe they’ll learn something from the experience.” Gilad’s face relaxed a little. His hands brushed the front of his body and he looked down at himself. His bare legs stood out pale against the blue sheets covering the bed and he became aware the nightshirt was the only thing he had on. He was suddenly glad he hadn’t simply leaped out of the room. “My uniform?”

“Casualty of war, I’m afraid. Dav and his friends were trying to tear it off you by main force, you got a bunch of food and stuff spilled on it, and you were sick, too.” Jon ticked off the events on her fingers. “So it’s with the droids being cleaned and repaired. It should be ready tomorrow.”

“Thanks. Guess I will wait till morning. I’m much indebted to you, for everything.” He sighed and allowed Jon to pull the rumpled sheet and blankets back over him. “Some first date.” His tone was rueful.

“Don’t worry about it. It really was enjoyable, honest.” Her eyes sparkled with humor.

“Why were they trying to tear off my uniform?” Gilad scratched his head, trying to force the memories out of the tangle of sights, sounds, and sensations remaining in his brain.

“Maybe that’s a detail you should leave forgotten?” Jon spoke cautiously. “You’re mad enough at Dav already.”

“What could he have thought of that’s worse than drugging me and getting us all into a fight?” Gilad knuckled his closed eyes. “That tops even the great thermite lab meltdown of last semester.”

“Well, let’s put it this way, if Dav knew about where you are right now, he might consider that he’d managed to accomplish his mission.”

“What? But, I’m here, with you…” He stared at Jon blankly.

“Yep. And I’m?”

“A lady.”

Jon nodded. “And you’re where?”

“I’m in your ship, in your room, in your bed, to be precise.” Gilad marked out the progression by tapping his finger against the surface of the bunk. He stopped and slowly blushed. “Now I remember Dav’s big plan. Oh, stars. Just shoot me now.”

He gave Jon a startled look. “We didn’t! Did we? I mean, I don’t remember!” His cheeks colored further. “I’m not trying to be insulting but I just… I would want to remember! You shouldn’t forget something like that.”

“Calm down, it’s all right.” Jon took pity on him then, seeing the distress in his eyes. “We haven’t done anything of a romantic nature tonight. You’ve been sick. There was nothing to do but put you to bed and see you didn’t get any worse. I’ve been sitting here making sure you were ok* while you slept.” She raised her hands. “That’s it.” Jon smiled gently at him. “That’s not to say it wasn’t in my mind to ask you to stay tonight, had the evening gone peacefully.”

Gilad blinked. “Really?”

“Absolutely. You’re quite a fine fellow, Gilad Pellaeon. I want to know you better, lots better. I’d be glad to have you stay here - for the rest of your leave, if you like?”

“I’d like that.” He took one of her hands and gripped it tightly. “But I owe you so much already.”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll be able to work things out nicely.” Jon pulled him slightly forward into a kiss, sliding an arm around his shoulders to draw him closer still. At that invitation, he embraced her fully, his arms circling strongly around her. When she released his mouth she said softly. “You still feel sick?”

“N-no, actually I feel much better.” He was sure the giddy feeling in his head had nothing to do with residual drugs.

“Good. Scoot over then.” Jon sat on the edge of the bunk and began to remove her overshirt and the spacer’s suit underneath, her grin bright in the low light. “Nothing wrong with a little sharing, is there?” She shrugged out of the suit and let it fall away down to her ankles and from there onto the deck. Turning to face him fully, she stretched out her arms to him. “What do you think? If you feel too tired, we can just snuggle up and sleep till dawn.”

Gilad stared at her body; finally remembering to close his mouth. “I’m wide awake now.”

“Me, too.” Jon slid under the covers, stretching out beside him. Her body was warm and soft in some places, and strong as transparisteel in others. The contrast delighted him and he began to explore, tentatively at first, then with greater confidence as Jon encouraged him. Her hands did quite a bit of exploring on their own and he felt the remnants of his shyness evaporate in the growing warmth. He gasped a little as her fingers found new bruises on his thighs and stomach. Her touch instantly gentled.

“How hurt are you?”

“I’m a little sore, here and here.” He guided her hands over the bad spots. “Feels like I’ve strained my knees, too; didn’t notice it in the middle of the fight.”

“That’s all right,” Jon chuckled as she turned him on his back. “There is plenty we can do, just like this.”

“Really?” He watched wide-eyed as she straddled his body. “Oh? Oh!”

“Yes,” she murmured happily, stretching gently forward to kiss him as she moved ever so slowly.

***

Some time later, after he had caught his breath, he stroked her cheek with his fingers. “This is something I will be very glad to remember.”

“The first memory of a large collection, I hope,” said Jon.

“Yes.” Gilad traced a finger along her collarbone. “I’d like to make as many memories as possible with you.” His face sobered. “It might be a little difficult after this leave is over. I’m shipping out - I don’t even know on what ship or where we’ll be going, but I want to see you as often as I can.”

Jon sat up to pull the blankets around them both, resettling by his side. “Don’t worry about that. We free traders are very resourceful by nature. I’m sure our paths will cross quite a bit.”

“I’ll trust you on that.”

###

This is a Star Wars fanfic, with the usual disclaimers as to ownership. George Lucas created the universe, I’m just visiting it.