Summary: A return to Catarria. Qui-Gon's turn to cat out.
Dedicated: To Beverly (MACSTP), whose comment that Qui-Gon was
purely lion made this story click in my mind. And to the Emu,
who contributed to the ending. Thanks for the feedback! Hope
you like it!
Disclaimer: The Jedi are not mine, no money made. I only like
to toy with them.
My initial reaction to the communication was simple shock. That
sense of disorientation, when something unexpected happens, as
staggering as if Mace Windu tossed up a hairball during a
council meeting, and all I could think was - What? Shock turned
to appalled horror and then I wondered why I felt so strongly.
I had accepted what occurred to me and decided that the
experience was overall beneficial. At least, I believed I had.
Qui-Gon's mind touched mine, expressing his concern. Our
training bond has strengthened significantly since we became
lovers six months ago. I sent back soothing comfort, yes I was
fine, no I wasn't hurt, only surprised. Not in words because we
don't share the true telepathy of a life bond, but in radiant
pulses of energy. His reassurance flowed back to me, but I knew
he would check on me as soon as he was free.
I realized quickly that I had better smother my dismay and
nonchalantly accept this information. Qui-Gon Jinn, Jedi
Master, legendary warrior, skilled negotiator, surprisingly,
tends to stress about our togetherness. He tries not to,
strongly reaffirming that the Force guided our relationship. I
was present when he argued the Council into granting their
permission. The Masters offered an astonishing variety of
different concerns, everything from the effect on my training,
whether we could be dispassionate if one of us was endangered,
how other Padawan/Master teams would react. I almost expected
one of them to be concerned if we would start to argue over who
did the chores. Qui-Gon dealt with everything superbly,
shooting down every objection with polite but firm logic, based
on knowledge of our characters and faith in our destiny.
Well, almost everything. He did start to get a little testy
when Adi Gallia inquired whether his dominance in our
relationship would subdue my ability to express myself
sexually. Fortunately, Yoda intervened at that juncture and
convinced the Council to say yes and leave us alone until a
definite harmful effect demonstrated itself. Bless Yoda. I feel
very fortunate to have him as a grand master, though I think
his sporadic impishness frustrates my Master.
Despite Qui-Gon's unwavering belief in the Force, the odd human
concerns pop up. The scattered remarks about his age, my youth,
whether our involvement stopped me from fully exploring other
relationships, if I was in my right mind when I initiated our
relationship. Yes, the great Jedi warrior was definitely a
worrier.
Qui-Gon strolled through the doorway of our quarters a bare ten
minutes later. Five minutes faster than I calculated. "You had
news?" were the first words from his mouth.
"Yes, Qui-Gon, quite interesting news." I went straight for the
vaguely amused intonation and relayed mirth through our link.
While the Republic population generally thinks of the Jedi as
honorable, honest people - and we are - Jedi also are the best
trained negotiators in the universe. We learn a lot about
projecting different moods using our face, voice, and body.
And, when confronting lovers who happen to be Jedi, our mind.
"A communication from Sherla. Incredibly silly, really."
"The Catarrian Ambassador's kitling?" Qui-Gon barely spoke to
the Ambassador's last born during our visit to Catarria, but
give him credit, he has an amazing memory for names and titles.
All Jedi must.
"Yes. It seems that they've made my experience a tourist
industry."
"You mean - people can pay to be dominated by cat instincts?
Live like their own pets?" Fast on the uptake, that's another
Jedi trait.
"Isn't that silly? I was so astonished. The Catarrians have
always seemed so defensive and deny any connection to domestic
cats. I've never seen one that didn't hiss if a stranger
stroked its fur."
"How do they manage it?"
"They studied the herbs and incense used in the ritual that
affected me, figured out what caused my mental imbalance.
Apparently it's not one hundred percent effective. It depends
on your genetics and birth planet. They have a whole series of
contingency vacations if it doesn't work, to keep disappointed
customers happy." I was crossing the room, taking Qui-Gon's
cloak off his shoulders and hanging it, making the conversation
breezy. Drive me out of my mind, turn it into a vacation
paradise, no big deal.
"So - you were only astonished because you wouldn't expect the
Catarrians to make a living off their felineness?" The words -
And not because you regret what started our relationship? -
weren't asked, but they floated in the air.
"I guess every race can surprise you." The trick with the cloak
had given me a valid excuse to get close without being obvious.
I took my chance, sliding my hands around his shoulders and
into his hair, coaxing his head down into a kiss. Welcoming and
loving to begin, leading rapidly to intense and passionate. He
picked me up and I wrapped my legs around his waist. I hated my
height when I was a teenager and realized I wouldn't grow any
taller. Yoda's "size matters not" be damned, being able to look
your Master straight in the neck can be most annoying and
highly ego-destroying. Now I delight in the disparity between
us that enables Qui-Gon to carry me so comfortably. It was
mid-afternoon and we had other duties to attend this day, but
Qui-Gon moved into the sleeping chamber and I didn't protest.
I shoved thoughts of Catarria out of my consciousness. Tons of
human or humanoid species adored cats as pets. The Catarrians
would probably make a fortune. Their choices were their
business. Besides, with the tribal conflicts settled, we
weren't likely to visit that planet ever again.
"I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" Ouch. Critical error in
judgment. Note to self - never ask a Council member to repeat
himself, no matter how much your mind is boggling in shock.
Particularly not Mace Windu, master of the scathing look.
"I said that you are to visit Catarria and soothe tensions
regarding this "Be A Cat" tourist business. It is dividing the
Catarrians and the Republic doesn't need another tribal war
erupting. Master Jinn will assist you but you, Padawan Kenobi,
will be in charge." Windu's inflection wasn't biting, but
definitely repressive of my perceived lapse in listening.
"May I ask why this matter needs external intervention, Master?
Surely concerns regarding a private business should be handled
through their own civil process? A lawsuit? Governmental
regulation?" Deferential intonation. I was rapidly recovering.
"The Ambassador's daughter, Sherla, is responsible for
developing this activity. Her leadership gives the impression
the administration condones the activity, creating an
escalation of anti-government feeling, especially among tribes
not currently represented in the Congress."
Gee. It was all Sherla's idea. Funny how she forgot to mention
that fact in her communication of last month. "And may I ask
why I would be in charge?" Designating command responsibility
on a Padawan, particularly a Padawan still several years from
his trials, was unprecedented.
"Because it's your name and your title being used in the
advertisements. You're apparently quoted as saying 'It was the
most amazing experience of my life.' " Sherla also neglected to
mention that little tidbit. Windu was not happy. Jedi aren't
used for publicity vidcast ads. So much for Qui-Gon's diligence
protecting my reputation. The entire universe was now informed
about the possession I had undergone. I could picture the clip
she used - my communication to her the morning after I
recovered, letting her and her father know I was fine, leaning
back in my chair, happy smile on my face. Qui-Gon and I had
made love most of the night and I was in total rapture. Yep, I
bet I was an effective recommendation.
"I see." I was struggling to think what else to say.
"Do you have a problem with this assignment, Padawan? You may
need to publicly condone or condemn this venture. You will have
to assess tensions and decide after you arrive at Catarria what
will be most effective." Windu awaited my response. Yoda and I
exchanged glances. We both acknowledged that I couldn't overtly
condemn what happened to me - it would crush Qui-Gon.
"While I did not grant permission for my communication to be
used, the words are true. I did find it the most amazing
experience of my life." I choose my words carefully, omitting
several items I could have said. The experience also was
frustrating and bizarre, not being in control of my own body,
driven to strange actions by primal impulses. Honestly I could
only say it was overall amazing because it forced Qui-Gon's
mask to slip, permitting me to see his desire to ravish me, a
feeling I heartily reciprocated. "However, there was only six
months for medical testing before the business was opened.
Given the sheer variety of reactions in humans and humanoid
species, the potential dangers would concern me. I cannot say I
would recommend this industry continue. I fear my attitude
would be regarded as equivocating and only inflame the current
aggravations." Would that be enough to free me from this task?
"I see." Nope. Not enough. "Then I suggest you meditate on the
voyage and be prepared to take whatever attitude or actions are
necessary to calm the Catarrians."
I flicked a quick look at Yoda. No help from that quarter, not
this time. I guessed he'd already offered his best arguments
before we were summoned. Acquiescing with subdued grace, I
said, "Yes, Master. I live to serve."
"And Padawan - convince Sherla to stop using you in the
advertising."
"Yes, Master." I bowed and turned to leave. It seemed beneath
the dignity of a Jedi to threaten Sherla with a lawsuit but I
wasn't sure what else might work. Qui-Gon also said, "Yes,
Master," his only words during this unusual meeting and
duplicated my actions, following me out the council door.
I thought the trip from Catarria had been hellacious, trapped
by foreign urgencies I couldn't control, unable to speak or use
the Force. At least my conscious mind was semi-aware and
pleased by the reactions Qui-Gon exhibited when I rubbed on him
and kneaded his thighs. The gulp in his throat, the fire in his
eyes, the hasty shoving me away, exposed his inner craving. I
could purr and did with immense contentment.
As we traveled back, I could visibly see him slowly closing in
his emotions, like a paw curling up to hide the sharp claws.
Only the claws were his love for me and the furry paw was the
shield to protect himself. He honestly still believed I was too
young, that confronted with the evidence of my catness, I would
suddenly thunk my head and say, "Gee, guess I have been fooling
myself these last seven months! It was only the insanity! We'll
just stop now, okay Qui-babe?"
At night, I gave him the words, hoping that would be enough.
The words said in the heat of passion - "More. Harder. Deeper.
That feels so good. Stop. Don't stop. Gods, don't ever stop."
During the day, the words of love - a steady look into his
eyes, the sincere "I love you, Qui-Gon. I have adored you for
years. I want to spend my life with you." He accepted all my
utterances and returned the words of passion with equal fervor.
The words of love he kissed from my lips.
Being a Jedi is an odd thing. Trained from birth, primarily
isolated with only other Jedi for company while simultaneously
taught to understand and appreciate all cultures. Family
connections are tolerated but not encouraged. Through the
Force, we develop special abilities and live to serve
unselfishly. We risk our lives with great frequency and solve
hostile conflicts that impact entire regions of space. We are
honored, revered, and respected throughout the universe, with
an almost painful adoration and distance. Then we report to
back to the Council and are told, "Nice job. Here's another
one." It has odd consequences on your ego, when everyone loves
you, except those who sincerely hate you for ruining their
schemes, but only the other Jedi understand you and most
'normal' citizens can't always hide their secret fear of your
mental powers.
I think Qui-Gon had relinquished dreams of ever sharing his
life with someone and expected me to be yanked away at any time
- either by my own decision or an external factor. Somehow, I
had to both calm the Catarrians and make him accept my love was
real. Needless to say, I meditated a lot that trip. The answers
I sought didn't magically emerge from my consciousness.
Since I was "in charge" I suggested Qui-Gon spend some time
with the ordinary Catarrians, make conversation in milk shops
and determine the general public's reaction. Perhaps the
Council was overreacting. Newscasts are known to exaggerate.
I started with Sherla. She responded promptly to my request,
appearing within half an hour at our hotel suite. This mission
was semi-official, so we'd elected not to request official
housing.
We rubbed noses hello, her soft white fur brushing against my
skin. Our conversation didn't go well, at least from my point
of view. She was happily unrepentant at the success of the
business. She'd lost her own enthusiasm for reawakening her
species' natural instincts and moved onto full-blown
entrepreneurship with equal verve. Her attitude clearly said -
grab their money before they can stroke your fur. Medical
concerns were dismissed with a sniff. Tourists were warned of
the dangers and signed an extensive liability waiver.
Her fur bristled at my suggestion of a lawsuit unless she cease
using my communication in her advertising. Then she laughed.
Somehow, a Jedi with an attorney is a ludicrous image. I
couldn't argue with that reaction. Desperately, I tried for the
sympathetic romantic approach. "Qui-Gon is afraid that I only
love him because I lost control of my mind. Seeing my face
popping up on vidcasts will constantly remind him of that
concern."
"He does not believe you love him?"
"He believes but - he doesn't understand how much I was
conscious during the event. It worries him, how we came
together. Please, Sherla, for our friendship. Surely now that
you've been operating for a month, there must be other
recommendations you can use?" I hoped if I could at least
eliminate mention of the Jedi, the Council would be pacified.
"None as sexy as you," she proclaimed, her ears flicking
outward. I grimaced. Jedi aren't accustomed to considering our
own physical attractiveness. "At least, other humans tell me
that you are attractive. You skinned-people look too odd for my
tastes." Knock my ego down. "I will contemplate your request.
We will talk again tomorrow?"
We arranged to meet for lunch. She left and I went to find her
father.
I confess I was tired and dispirited when I returned to the
hotel that evening. I talked to the Ambassador and several
different political officials. Some were polite; some were
extremely not pleased to see me. My face had become quite
famous in the tourist advertising for Catarria. One of them
finally showed me a copy of the vidcast ad. Ouch and double
ouch. I didn't just seem happy - I looked physically satiated.
Well-fucked, to be vulgar but accurate. Dressed in trousers and
my under tunic, feet bare, I was practically purring as I
recounted how much fun I had as a cat. I was surprised Sherla
hadn't found some way to use the communication to advertise a
far more infamous product.
Note to self - always shower and clean up before communicating
with friends after a long night with Qui-Gon. Particularly
relatively new friends. And never exaggerate when reassuring
people.
Qui-Gon was sleeping on the couch when I entered the hotel
room. I was rather surprised. He didn't usually nap before
dinner unless a mission was exceptionally strenuous. I was
hungry, so I shook him gently.
He didn't wake.
I shook him harder.
He still didn't wake.
I shook him so much I nearly knocked him off the couch.
He yawned, a wide stretching yawn, displaying his white teeth
and pink tongue. He curled into a ball, long arms and legs
hanging off the couch, and fell asleep.
I headed for the communications console and reached Sherla
within moments. She was home, expecting my call.
"Aren't you happy, Obi-Wan? I found him at a milk bar and we
had a nice chat."
"While you slipped drugs in his milk?" The tone in my voice was
escalating to a high pitch. I couldn't stop it.
"You said he didn't understand how you had felt. Now he will."
"You don't - " I gave up. I would deal with Sherla later. "I
want a doctor to examine him."
"I will send the company's physician." I slapped off the
communication signal, called room service for a meal, checked
all the window seals, and settled in for a siege. We weren't
leaving this suite until he was rational.
Admittedly, I was relieved that the doctor arrived and examined
Qui-Gon before he woke. Even with use of the Force, I didn't
relish holding him down. Qui-Gon was in the early stage, the
herbs causing intense sleepiness as they spread throughout his
system. The doctor was delighted when I told him Qui-Gon's
birth planet. No one had visited from there yet. If the herbs
worked well on Qui-Gon, Sherla could check off another
excellent place to advertise. Oh goody. I was glad someone
found joy in this fiasco.
I was dozing on the chair when Qui-Gon awoke, stretching from
the tips of his fingers to the ends of his toes. His lazy gaze
met mine and instantly lit with a dangerous predatory gleam.
In all his descriptions of my actions during my possession, I
pictured myself as a small house cat, spitting, hissing and
purring. Either the herbs affected us differently or our
personalities played a significant role. Bad for my ego, but
stands to reason, because Qui-Gon didn't resemble a small
kitty. He was a lion. A big, dominant lion. King of the jungle
and he knew it. Now I had to make sure he didn't try to prove
it.
He rolled off the couch and slunk toward me, rumbling and
growling deep in his chest. The image would have been
incredibly sexy if it wasn't so unnerving. "Qui-Gon." He paused
for a second then continued padding in my direction. "Qui-Gon,
I know you can understand me."
Could I make that assumption? I never asked Sherla if everyone
retained a conscious mind. I had to hope. "I know this is
unnerving. You can't control yourself. But it's okay. I'm here
and I will watch out for you." He rose up and his arms slapped
down on my front. His legs stayed crouched, as if he didn't
realize he was capable of standing straight. Our eyes clashed.
I couldn't remember if it was better to meet a wild animal's
eyes or not. Animals rarely fight wars or have trade disputes,
so Jedi knowledge of zoology tends to be limited. I've dealt
with a number of wild creatures, since Qui-Gon has the most
disturbing habit of rescuing pathetic lifeforms, but we usually
found good homes for his strays within a few days.
Either Qui-Gon was conscious or I made the right choice,
because he leaned in closer, growled, rubbed at my face, and
fell back down to the floor on his hands and feet. I breathed a
sigh of relief as he prowled the room. He made a full circuit,
sniffing and exploring, rubbing his lean body against the
furniture. Ultimately, he arrived back and rubbed his scent on
my legs, almost knocking me down. I ruffled my fingers in his
hair and he rumbled louder.
Shaking his mane free from my hand, he roamed back to the
center of the room and slung himself down on the carpet. I was
very glad Yoda wasn't around, because no matter how many days
we stayed locked in this suite, I wasn't bathing him.
Considering how bad many Jedi ended up smelling on various
missions, I never really believed that Yoda ordered that bath
out of any serious olfactory distaste. I think he sensed
Qui-Gon's feelings and was encouraging us together. Qui-Gon
obeyed out of habit and secret desire. Well, we were already
together and I would be happy to wash him as soon as he was
sane. I wasn't going to compel that hard, large form into
water. Even the Force has limits.
The day went as well as it could. At least the routine was
familiar. Watch him, make reassuring noises, read, pet him.
Meal time was distinctly unsettling. Taking a piece of meat, I
held it out to him. He lunged, one hand swiftly swiping it from
my fingers. Good thing he didn't have claws. He gnawed on the
food, watching me with alert eyes to ensure I wouldn't attack
him to retrieve it.
After a few hours, I was almost happy. I couldn't work on the
rest of my mission because I had to watch Qui-Gon. I couldn't
risk leaving him alone. So I had to lounge in a hotel suite,
eat room service, and watch Qui-Gon sleep and prowl like a
magnificent creature. Tough day.
He strolled over and rubbed on me several times. I was tempted
to rub back, to see what would happen, but it seemed too much
like taking advantage. Also, Qui-Gon was disturbingly lethal.
His muscles might have been loose and relaxed, but he exhibited
the waiting quality of a dangerous animal, a beast that is
lulling its prey into complacency before pouncing.
By the next day, he was getting claustrophobic. I could see his
tenseness, his need to escape his captivity. The hotel suite
was too small to be a satisfactory jungle for this king. I
teased him with my sash, hoping he would play games, but no
luck.
With animal cunning, he choose his moment. I answered the knock
on the door and he bounded for the window. I turned, screaming
"NO" and trying to throw up a Force wall. He was too fast,
hitting the glass, shards splintering outwards into the air. I
was leaping over furniture, looking through the broken
fragments at his body soaring through the air. I tossed out a
cushion of Force, catching him enough to slow him down as he
fell the three stories. I was more successful with the cushion
than the wall. He landed on his feet and hands in a crouch,
standing and shaking himself. The tie was gone and his hair
fluffed wildly. He roared at a passerby and took off running on
two feet. Damn. He would have been slower on four.
I didn't risk the window but shoved past the hotel busboy, my
lunch and Qui-Gon's steak flying. I had to capture him before
he endangered himself or any Catarrians.
We made a ridiculous sight as I dragged him home three hours
later. I had chased him all over the city. Initially, I mind
whammied every Catarrian, making them forget the sight of the
dignified Jedi Master growling and leaping onto any high
surface. Protecting his reputation became impossible when the
newscast reporters linked up with us. There were too many of
them and they were broadcasting live.
I lassoed him with my sash and tied it onto him as a leash. He
fought me every step of the way and he was physically stronger.
I had the Force on my side, but I never realized the
deficiencies in my training. I mostly practiced shoving droids
away with enough power to destroy them. I lacked enough
delicacy in my technique to bind him without harming him.
Note to self - train harder on more varied uses of the Force.
At least this trip was definitely a learning experience.
Sherla was pacing in front of the hotel. Her exquisite green
eyes were blazing with furious fire but I ignored her. This
disaster was her fault, even if she didn't accept the
responsibility. Fortunately, the newscasters recognized and
pounced on her with glee, allowing Qui-Gon and me to enter the
hotel alone. The manager wanted to kick us out for breaking the
window and causing havoc at his quiet hotel. I mind whammied
him to find us another room. On the first floor.
I dressed Qui-Gon's wounds and healed the worst with the Force.
Thankfully, most of the cuts were shallow. Several more hours
elapsed before he succeeded in mumbling a contrite "Obi-Wan." I
instantly laid on the floor next to him, stroking his hair.
Squirming around, I slipped under his body, cradling his
shoulders to my chest, tucking his head under my chin.
"It's fine, Qui-Gon. Everything is fine. It takes time. Don't
fight it." I crooned a litany of reassurances as sanity crept
back into his eyes. When he was semi-functional, I guided him
into sitting up and moving into the bedroom, coaxing him back
into the same cuddling position on the bed.
"Obi-Wan."
"Yes, Master? Do you feel alright?"
"Obi-Wan - " He stopped and snuggled his head closer into my
neck. Through our bond, I could tell what he didn't want to
say.
"You let her drug you, didn't you? You wanted to know what it
was like, if I was truly aware." It only made sense. A Jedi
Master should have been able to easily read a Catarrian as
excitable as Sherla.
"Forgive me?" He was legitimately horrified at his own insecure
foolishness and the resulting consequences. The Council were
probably already watching our traipse through the downtown
streets. So much for calming Catarrian tensions. Windu would
have our heads.
I twisted our bodies, so we were facing each other on the bed.
"Qui-Gon, I love you. Even when you are stubborn and have to
learn things for yourself."
"Obi-Wan," he stroked my cheek with his fingertips, as gently
as touching velvety fur, "will you life bond with me?"
I smiled and kissed his palm. I had started to ask that
question several times myself but always stopped, afraid his
response would be a sad commentary on my youth and his
unwillingness to tie me down. Instead, I'd been tolerantly
waiting for him. Suggesting the total commitment of a life bond
told me he was secure enough in my love - in our love - to
truly believe it would last forever. "Yes, Qui-Gon."
By mutual consent, we slid closer and kissed, lightly tasting
with lips and tongue. Qui-Gon was slow, exquisitely slow,
savoring my mouth. I cherished the memory of our first-time
together, when he was so frantic and desperate for completion.
That driving need was so exciting. Most of the time, Qui-Gon
was the most generous, patient lover, receiving greater
satisfaction from my responses than his own. On good days, he
would make me explode over and over, patting my come into my
abdomen, before mischievously smiling and beginning again.
People who think my smile is impish have never seen Qui-Gon's
delight when proving his prowess. On bad days - or perhaps they
should be described as days that are even better - he made me
wait, keeping me dangling for hours with excruciating calm.
Our boots and sashes were already gone. Tunics, trousers, and
undergarments leisurely followed, tossed off the bed. Qui-Gon
was determined to lick every inch of my skin, finding some of
the oddest places. The underside of my chin, my shoulder
blades, my wrist, my knees, my ankles. His choices were both
fascinating and frustrating. I was dying for his mouth in more
sensitive areas.
"Qui-Gon, are you going to make me wait forever?" I finally
wailed. Yep, I wailed. I admit it.
"Poor Obi-Kitty," he mock lamented at me. "Don't you like being
a lion toy?"
"I'd rather be a lion feast," I complained. "Qui-Lion."
He flashed his dazzling grin. "Your wish is my command."
His mouth went straight to my cock. He lapped at the head, his
soft but rough tongue drinking the first drops of fluid like a
cat drinking milk. His hand joined the action, tickling up and
down the shaft. I was groaning at the wonderful flickering
sensations spreading through my body. He was still being too
slow, his caress too delicate. I contemplated grabbing at him,
bringing him to orgasm, but I knew that was the wrong choice.
He really made me wait when he was already satisfied.
"Qui-Gon, we have to deal with the Catarrians tomorrow. We
can't do this all night."
He laughed, his breath warming my cock as it wafted from his
mouth. "Isn't a good thing we both have Jedi stamina?"
I must have looked the picture of debauched decadence the next
morning. Well, mid-morning. Late morning, whatever. I was face
down and spread eagled across the bed, my hair tousled and both
my ponytail and padawan braid untied. The covers and sheets
were piled on the floor. A rude hand slapped my butt and I
jerked awake, glaring over my shoulder to see Sherla glaring
back. "What is your Master going to say?"
I groaned and laid back down. Never allow anyone to tell you
that youth and stamina can measure up to experience and
stamina.
She poked me in the back, obviously agitated. "What will he
say?"
"Say to who?" My question was decidedly testy. I was tired,
sore, and inexpressibly satiated in every muscle of my body.
"To the Congress! He's speaking to the Congress in five
minutes!"
That woke me up. Trust Qui-Gon. I loved the man but he had a
bad habit for taking responsibility onto his own head.
I pulled on trousers and stumbled to the living area. My eyes
were bleary and my face stubbled with hair. The communications
console was already airing the Congressional hall, vidcasters
panning over the politicians representing the various tribes. I
don't care what Catarrian scientists say, they must have
evolved from domestic cats. The lovely calico markings of one
Congressman, next to a solid black, a seal point, an orange
tabby - Catarrian fur is one of the most gorgeous physical
features in this universe.
Sherla was sitting on the edge of the couch. I called room
service for breakfast and flopped next to her, feet on a stool.
Qui-Gon was approaching the podium as the politicians
respectfully settled into silence.
"Members of the Congress, I thank you for allowing me to speak
to you today. There have been concerns regarding the "Be A Cat"
business and whether it is an appropriate tourist industry for
your beautiful planet. As you may know, my apprentice was the
first human to accidentally experience this sensation and I
underwent the treatment yesterday."
"I apologize for any inconvenience I caused and I would urge
further medical testing and governmental regulation of this
business. Clearly, without care, this sensation has the
potential to cause problems."
"However, this industry does not mock the Catarrians, who are a
civilized, dignified race. It allows a person to experience a
primal state of awareness, which has heightened my appreciation
for all creatures and I believe will have a similar impact on
others. I must echo my apprentice's words. This was one of the
most amazing experiences in my life. I shall cherish the memory
forever. Thank you."
I loved the man. I completely and totally loved the man. Okay,
I would yell at him for leaving out my name and diverting all
the attention and blame onto himself, but I still loved him.
After yesterday's exhibition and a public speech today, the
Congress would swiftly approve regulation and the Council would
forgive us.
Sherla was thoughtfully rumbling in her chest. "We'll get
governmental regulation. We'll probably be shut down for more
medical testing before we can reopen."
"Yes, but they'll take Qui-Gon's recommendation as an official
Jedi position and won't offend the Council by closing you down
completely. The Council won't be pleased at the public
declaration but they won't agitate the tribes by contradicting
him. You will reopen. And you'll have a clip of a Jedi Master
saying he'll cherish the memory forever."
One ear flicked back. She'd already begun designing the ad in
her mind. "You won't threaten me with another lawsuit, will
you?"
I grinned and stretched. "Life is purrfect, Sherla. And I have
a bonding ceremony to prepare."
"Life is purrfect? Life is purrfect?" Her fur was standing
straight up and her emerald eyes slitted. "You deserve to be
spanked for that statement. You know Catarrians hate silly puns
about cats."
I raised my eyebrows at her. "Miss "Be A Cat" businesswoman
hates cat puns? You'd get more business if you called it
'Purrfect Vacations.'"
"What bonding ceremony?" She'd registered the import of my last
words. She was knocking on the bathroom door before I finished
shutting it on her face.
"Go away, Sherla!" I called. "Go talk to Congresspeople about
regulation! After my breakfast is delivered." The noise of the
shower drowned out her response. I dropped my trousers and
stepped into the cold spray, wanting to be clean and dressed
when Qui-Gon returned. I contemplated if I should ask Sherla to
be an attendant of honor. She had helped unite us, even if by
accident. Or would her fur be too white next to our white
bonding garments? I'd talk with Qui-Gon first. Maybe Yoda
should be his attendant? I snickered at the image of Sherla and
Yoda walking down the aisle in front of us.
As I scrubbed, I imagined my bachelor ceremony. The other
Padawans would find someone to bake a cake shaped like a mouse.
Probably a fish motif for the decorations. Contests on whom
could purr the loudest. At least I was no longer alone, the
only victim of this weird happening. I could depend on the
Masters and Knights to poke a little fun at Qui-Gon too. We'd
be able to console our wounded dignity together.
Yep, life was purrfect and looking better every day.
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