Water in a Jar

Written by Sailor Berchest

Every man in the bar looked at her. She had the long, long legs that carried females through the dreams of most humanoid males stemming from the kind of body that rarely existed outside extensive reconstructive surgery. The woman carried herself with the confidence and poise that only being supremely comfortable in her own skin brought. Her hair moved as one mass, springing from her head in purple perfection. The smoky gray eyes that sparkled behind her smooth purple bangs looked as if they were sparkling for each man alone. She was the kind of woman who knew her assets, and used them.

"Let me buy you a round," the nearest man offered, flashing white teeth against pale blue skin.

She was also the kind of woman who never paid for a drink in her life.

Suri Rose had two loves in her life. Three, if anyone got technical. Neither, common to popular belief, was herself. She loved dancing- which was good, since it was her profession- and she loved the ocean that had formed the city she had been born in.

Of course, when she said dancing, people usually had very little idea of the kind of dancing she enjoyed most. Suri took a perverse kind of pleasure in telling them. She saw no shame in her profession as an exotic dancer. Stripper, she liked to say, with a wink.

Suri ran her long, elegant fingers through her purple hair, working out some of the tangles. The messy, unkempt look was 'in', but she would have none of that. The dancer was proud of her body and her hair and wanted nothing less than the finest for both. She stretched, extending one perfect leg upwards and parallel to her body. A sharp knock came at her door and a rough voice shouting that she had five minutes to get on the stage. Suri waved in unseen acknowledgment, and slid her body into a full split. Then she stood and slipped her body into a cloak that complimented her Jedi-type outfit. Not that, she was sure, any Jedi would have walked out of their precious hideaways with five inch heels.

The stage was dark- but it always was. Suri was more of herself and somehow less when she was in the grip of the performance. What could have been thousands of eyes on half as many beings, or refracted candlelight on the darkened glass windows. Either way, the show was on.

Lights came up around Suri, painting her in swirling shades of red. Looking up from where she'd had her head bowed in a mock meditation pose, she moved her arms sinuously to push the hood back from her head as pulsing music started to filter in. She took one hand and slowly, but rhythmically parted the cloak's front, exposing a generous amount of flesh. As she slid the cloak off her body, letting it fall in a pool of brown around her heeled feet, Suri took the chance to look at the audience. Without batting an eyelash, she cursed mentally. There were Jedi there. *Real* Jedi. The kind one only saw in one's nightmares on this planet.

She had trouble focusing on the rest of her performance.

"We were impressed by tonight's...spectacle," one of the Jedi said, sitting in Suri's dressing room.

She'd offered them caf, which they'd declined. Currently, Suri was only wearing the cloak in which she'd started her performance and some very revealing undergarments. With little regard for propriety, She left the cloak fall to the floor and she rummaged through her locker, finally settling on a pair of tight pants and a midriff barring shirt. Truth be known, Suri was most comfortable when she was half-naked.

One of the Jedi - she assumed the younger - made a soft noise in his throat. Jedi, she thought to herself, trying to project so they could pick up on her mental snipe, were such prudes.

"Thanks," she said out loud, pulling the shirt on.

"However, we have business with you."

She shrugged, reaching for her brush. "Lots of males think they have business with me." She started pulling the brush through her hair, working with it. "What's your particular version of business?"

"We're here to arrest you, Suri Rose," the elder Jedi explained.

Suri raised an eyebrow. "I don't do things like that off the clock," she retorted, setting her hairbrush back in her locker. Her long hands - with red-orange nails - felt the reassuring presence of a small blaster. It fit perfectly into the palm of her hand, and living as she did, it was easy for her to get things past the notice of another person. The dancer didn't let it show, but she worried. Jedi had special powers; they could sense things. But if they sensed her blaster, they gave no indication. "For what?" she inquired, pleasantly.

"Wrongdoing, of course," the same Jedi replied.

When Suri raised the blaster, he grabbed her wrist. Twisting her around, her caught her other hand behind her back. He gripped her so hard that there was an easily audible crack. Tears sprung to the gray eyes of the purple haired woman as the pain brought her to sudden obedience. "My wrist," she exclaimed, softly moaning. "I think you..."

"...broke it," the boy finished. "Just great." He looked disgusted.

Suri let herself be hauled out to the waiting speeder and from there to the waiting ship. Pressure on her right wrist was all it took to keep her in line; unnecessary pain was on Suri's list of things to avoid.

She was secured in a small, dark hold, with her hands cuffed above her head. The position was uncomfortable and she made that point known. One of the Jedi raised his hand to slap her, but another man intervened. "Hey, we can't damage the merchandise!" he said.

"Merchandise!" Suri protested. "That's no way to talk about *me*!" The two Jedi turned and looked at her with cruel amusement. "You aren't Je..." She didn't have to finish the sentence. Suri'd been duped by one of the oldest tricks in the book and now she was stuck on a slave ship. It would take all of her wiles... oh, who was she kidding? Suri couldn't even slump dejectedly, owing to the state of her ensnared wrist. Life currently sucked.

"I hate you," Suri offered pleasantly as the younger of the two walked in, carrying food.

He shrugged it off. She'd been saying it for two days. If he'd ever believed it, he was so used to hearing it that it didn't bother him anymore. "Here's your food." He undid her handcuffed arms. The broken wrist had been bandaged tightly, but not, to her dismay really treated.

"Thanks," she sighed, picking at the food with her left hand, while keeping the right tucked to her body. She ate with grand lackluster. Then, with determination, she stretched out her long, long legs with the high heels that she preferred sliding across the floor. Suri smiled slightly and started eating again, with more interest, running her tongue over the fork.

The boy ignored her for a few moments, but Suri was extremely good at what she did for a living and she caught his interest before too long. And once she had his interest, she kept it.

He watched her as she finished off the dinner, then ran her finger over the plate. Suri licked her finger off and winked at him. Most of the dancer's defense- or offense- training was in close quarters, and she focused all her abilities on getting close enough to use her knowledge.

Suri stood up, but not straight. She kept her head level with his eyes so he wouldn't feel threatened. The dancer moved over to where he was sitting, leaning back in his chair a little. He was so young that her heart almost went out to him. But she remembered what the youngster was involved in, and let the pity flee. With impish hands, she put her hands behind his head and pulled towards her. She had a split second to decide between his death or his incapacitation. Someone had told her to never leave an enemy alive, but the pity rushed back, and she slammed a convenient heavy object into the back of his head. He slumped over.

She didn't have any extra clothes on to tear into bonds, so Suri liberated the boy's shirt for the purpose. He also had a nice sized vibroblade that she palmed into her pocket. Then, flipping her purple hair over her shoulder, she pussyfooted out of the room and towards the shuttle bay. Or, more accurately, towards what she *hoped* was a shuttle bay.

In near-hopeless dismay, Suri looked around at the contents of the shuttle bay. She guessed all the things inside were ships, but the dancer feared she wouldn't know a starship from an enclosed speeder. For a moment, she looked about frantically. There was no predefined shape for a ship since there was no resistance in a vacuum so that was no help. There were no clear markings either- she sighed, supposing that a sign reading 'This Is A Space Ship' wouldn't fit with the decor. Then, instead of picking one vessel at random, she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. When she reopened her smoky gray eyes, Suri focused on one vessel, smallish and towards the big doors. It was a technique she used if she got nervous dancing or performing. All she had to do was close her eyes and clear her mind to feel more in control of her surroundings.

As soon as she got in the ship, all the control she felt evaporated. "Oh no," she sighed. Suri was getting ready to complain a little more eloquently when she heard a noise like a puff of smoke. "Huh?"

'Ok, this is easy,' she heard. 'All you have to do is hit those buttons, then these buttons, then grab the stick.'

Suri really didn't have time to argue. While she'd been hesitating, the bay had been filling up with angry looking men. With big guns.

'Now, gently- gently!- push the stick to the left.'

Doing as she was instructed, Suri turned the little ship. "I'm doing it! I'm doing it!"

'Yeah. Good job! Now, see that little trigger there on the stick?'

Suri looked and saw the indicated bit of machinery. "Yeah?"

'Pull it and at the same time, push the stick to the right.'

Again, doing as she was instructed, Suri's ship spat out neon green fire, cutting down the men in front of her. Since the ship kept turning, she also took out the shuttle bay doors. Atmosphere scream out of the ship, making walls buckle. "Oops."

'Haul back on the stick! Go! Go! Go!'

"Stop yelling at me!" Suri yelled. Still, she obeyed, sending the ship shooting forward.

"So... who are you?" Suri asked, having set the hyperspace drive towards Berchest.

Now she could see the person she was talking to. Or, not so much a person, as a blue shadow of a person. She had on a short skirt- long by Suri's standards- a body suit, a sailor-esque collar, and a couple of large bows, one of her chest and one at the small of her back. Her hair was braided in two braids that slipped over the shoulders, tied with more bows at the ends. There were also bows at her elbows and knees that capped off tall gloves and boots. 'My name is Seiki. I was Sailor Berchest before I died and until you were born. Now, we've got to go to Coruscant!'

Suri was stuck on the idea of the blue person being dead. "You're dead? You're a *ghost*?!"

'Yeah,' Seiki said, frowning a little. 'I'm very dead. But that's ok! I'm one with the Force. Very Hoth.'

She raised an eyebrow. "Hoth? Like the planet?"

'Um, it's an old expression. Ignore.' She grinned. 'Did you ever read old holonovels about the Sailor Jedi?'

"Pure myth!" Suri laughed, waving her hand. The way that Seiki was looking at her made the dancer pause to reconsider. Skirt, body suit, boots, little tiara, gloves, collar... "Or maybe not." Suri squinted. There wasn't any preset way a Sailor Senshi looked- she assumed they chose their own outfits- but this Seiki fit the general idea. "Ar...were you a Sailor Jedi? Wait, you already said you were." Suri put her excellent memory to use. "You said 'I was Sailor Berchest before I died and until you were born.'"

Seiki grinned. It looked a little strange to see her because she was mostly transparent and her toothy grin was positioned in front of a potted plant. She looked like she had a mouthful of greens.

"Wait..." If her life had been like an end of the week morning holotoon, there would have been a light bulb over Suri's head. "Before I was born...?"

Seiki's plant-filled smile got bigger.

"Do you mean...?" Suri had never claimed to be the brightest light in the corridor. She said, most of the time in fact, that she was slightly less intelligent than your average walking plant. But even a self-depreciating, exotic dancing, walking plant could make associations. "I'm Sailor Berchest?"

'Yep!' Seiki exclaimed. 'Now, we have to go to Coruscant. There are other senshi there and you guys have to hang together.'

"I did a little research about the senshi when I was a kid," Suri said. "They seemed to be in close association, even intertwined, with the Jedi. Are they... we... like that now?"

Seiki shook her head violently. 'No. The Oldtime Senshi took advantage of the Darkness to purge most of their records from the galaxy. Not all of them were destroyed-' Suri knew that; she had gone to considerable lengths to get some of the ones that were left. '-but most of them were. The Sailor Jedi faded into a kind of legend-myth. The more current senshi decided as a whole to let that mythology hide us while we worked our magic-' Seiki laughed at her pun. '-while we worked out magic like an underground police force.'

"Secret identities and all that?" Suri grinned at Seiki's affirmative reply. "I can do that. What about an outfit? Did the senshi change in holonet booths or something?"

'Hey,' Seiki grinned. 'We're magic!' She closed her eyes and held out her hands.

Suri watched intently as a small bell materialized in Seiki's hands. It interested her because somehow a ghost was making a real bell. It was attached to a thing red-orange ribbon, like the ones that decorated Seiki's blue and green sailor suit.

When it was handed to her, Suri took the bell, wondering at its lightness and shimmering surface. It seemed inundated with the waves of the ocean, rippling over its surface.

"What do I do?" Suri asked, holding the bell in her cupped hands.

'Ring it and call on your homeworld for guidance, protection, and strength. The Force that gives us power is not only made up of living things, but also of the worlds that sustain them, and that they sustain.'

Suri stared at the bell before grasping it by the ribbon and giving it a good shake. A noise like rippling waves flowed out from the bell, surrounding her. "Berchest, uplift me!" she shouted, pulling her hands to her chest. She was wrapped in flowing red-orange and could feel the power of her homeworld engulfing her, drowning her in itself and bringing her back to life. An impish thought crossed her mind and she concentrated hard, thinking about how she'd like her outfit to look. Maybe a shorter skirt, transparent, but in the same shade of green. A thinner collar too, and a bare midriff.

When Suri opened her eyes- she hadn't realized they were closed- she saw Seiki looking at her and shaking her head. 'You're definitely unique.'

"Yep," the purple haired senshi said, twirling on high orange-red heels. Bells around her ankles and her throat sang with bell-like laughter. The short transparent skirt twirled out from around her, giving the world a more defined peek at the short, short boy shorts underneath. "I'm Sailor Berchest, born guardian of my planet, water, and crystal!"

Seiki clapped her non-corpereal hands together. 'Yes! Now we're going to Coruscant!'

"We are *not* going to Coruscant!" Suri protested, willing herself to change back to her normal clothing. "We're going to Berchest!"

'Coruscant! That's where the other senshi are!'

"Forget them for now! I have a life on Berchest. I'm a dancer at a very popular club. I have an apartment! With cute lampshades!" Suri glared at the blue ghost. She'd started thinking of Seiki as a 'blue ghostie'.

Seiki blinked at her. 'You can take the lampshades with you. We have to get to Coruscant and help everyone!'

"What if they don't *match*?" Suri protested again. "Look, blue ghostie, I am going back to Berchest. I am collecting my things. I'm quitting my job. Then we can go one about your big plan."

Despite her protesting, Seiki could not dissuade the determined dancer-turned-senshi.

"See?" Suri said, gesturing at the screen. "I wrote a program that tells anyone who queries that the ship's name is *Banana Republic*, and that I've had her for 18 standard months."

Seiki smiled. 'Hey, that's interesting. What else can you do?'

"Almost anything!" Suri bragged. "I wanted to be a programmer-hacker when I was a kid, but there was more money in my current job."

'Ooh,' the other responded. She looked like she was sitting down, but since the ribboned senshi was non-corporeal, it was hard to imagine her needing to sit.

Suri leaned back as the ship continued on her course. There had been a bacta patch in the medical kit that she had applied to her wrist. It still hurt. To take her mind off it, she turned to Seiki. "Tell me about the Oldtime Senshi."

'There's a lot to tell,' Seiki responded, willingly. Then, spreading her hands in a gesture of apology, she said, 'But I don't know much of it. Like I said, the Oldtime Senshi used the Darkness to purge themselves. They knew somehow- I guess- that they weren't needed like they had been. I've heard-' Her eyes lit with a conspiratorial fire. 'I've heard that if you go to the planet Hoth and stand out in the middle of nowhere, you can still feel the old guardian of the planet. Legend says that she became one with Hoth to protect it from some catastrophe. I don't know how true that is.' Seiki shrugged again. 'I've also heard that at one point, every planet had a guardian senshi. There were hundreds of them in plain sight, and the Council even knew their identities.'

"What about now? Who knows about us?" Suri leaned back against the chair, thankful that she had someone to talk to. Secrecy was a basic part of her life- her mother thought Suri sold advertising- and being able to talk freely was a pleasure.

'Pretty much no one. Those of us that joined the Force know and watch over those of you that haven't become one with the Force. It's a big job. You get in a lot of trouble.' Seiki's eyes were playfully accusing. 'I think some of the senshi have boyfriends that know. And there's a businesswoman somewhere financing someone. I'm not sure I like that so much. Business people are shifty and not trustworthy.'

Twisting a strand of long hair around her finger, Suri smiled. "Not like strippers, huh?" She winked as Seiki blushed. Suri was fairly sure it was a blush. It was a little hard to tell as her friend was mostly transparent. "Tell me more about the Oldtime Senshi. Are there any more places you can feel them?"

'It's gotten to be a cult thing,' Seiki admitted. 'Like the Overly Large Footed Creature of Mrykr or the Horrible White Apparition of Hoth. There are senshi hunters out for us. They say that you can feel senshi in the deadest parts of space. One senshi was the guardian of the stars, and it's she that protects travelers. Also- Kashyyyk. They say that the heart of the oldest senshi of Kashyyyk was formed from the planet itself!'

"You know a lot about them," Suri remarked, massaging her palm.

Seiki blushed bluer again. 'I used to be a senshi hunter. Then...well, then I became a senshi! It was a real craze about sixty years ago. I got into it earlier, though.'

That gave Suri pause. "Sixty years ago? How old *are* you?"

'I was 96 when I died.' She grinned. 'One of the rare cases where a senshi died of old age.'

Suri tried to clear her mind of the image of an old, wrinkled woman in a miniskirt. "Oh. I always thought senshi lived forever."

'No, otherwise we'd still have the original senshi with us. They died, too. So many thousands of years have passed that we're not even really sure their mythologies are still in force. Some of them were goddesses, they say.'

"Wait!" Suri said, holding up an almost perfectly manicured hand. "Can't you just ask them? Aren't they one with the Force, too?"

Seiki shrugged. Every time she did that, it looked like her shoulders were passing through the chair she appeared to be resting on. 'As long as I have contact with you, I'm forbidden to contact them. The Oldtime Senshi have nothing to do with nowadays.'

Suri looked disappointed. "Aww."

'Can we go to Coruscant now?' Seiki asked. 'We have to go to the others.'

"No!" Suri protested. "My stuff is back on Berchest. But we're almost there. Um, remind me how to steer this?"

Seiki shook her head. Suri had a long road ahead of her if she was to be Sailor Berchest with any success.

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