To my dear reviewers:

Jandalf: Heh... Danian, yes... (grins) And this time I'm not updating three minutes ago. Because if you were up and online at this time, I would have to tell you to go to bed rather impolitely, see? Heehee. Here's your more...

Warious: Wow, the second lover of the tea scene... snrk. My nice whiny Sauron/Danian... no, don't ask who Dane is. He's not someone you'd know of. But yeah... thanks for reviewing me! And I can't remember if I ever did get to reviewing you now... blast. Too tired.

Duncariel: Painful, yes. That was generally intentional. I still can't believe you're naming your cat Tify-Wan... hide the sharpies, yes! (cackles) So fune... yes, fune. Brother in closet... huh. I don't have a closet. I have a wardrobe!

---Chapter Three---

On the other side of the sealed off blast doors, Cry-Gon was busy melting the doors with her lightsaber and Tify-Wan had another Sharpie marker, coloring the walls with graffiti about how Sauron's mother was an orc and his father was a Hutt and his mother-in-law was a Tusken Raider...


Tify-Wan quickly drew her lightsaber to dismantle a nearby tattle-droid. "Sorry, Master."

"What are you doing with that paper?"

She glanced at the drawing of her lightsaber, and put the marker away. "Using it as a weapon, Master."

"What do you expect a drawing of a lightsaber to do anyway?"

Tify-Wan shrugged. Strangely, the piece of paper had dismantled the droid. Perhaps it was allergic to paper cuts.

Suddenly two convenient destroyer droids rolled up. As it was, no Jedi had ever managed to destroy one of these droids, so the two had to flee, unfortunately. "It's a standoff!" Cry-Gon yelled, grabbing her Padawan's arm, and hauling her away from her newest Sharpie-marker artwork.

"But we haven't even negotiated anything!"

"You think they'll listen with those flattering images gracing the halls?"

"I'm glad you think so, Master."

Cry-Gon shot her a withering glare, but for once Tify-Wan seemed to have some focus, if to nothing more than staying alive for a few more pages of the story.

As they dashed off into the mist with silvery blades shining in the fog and bright beams lancing towards them...

The scene ended. Hah hah!

"A transmission from the planet."

Legolas turned to face the tall elf. "Then we receive results," the blond elf murmured, snapping the viewscreen on. It flickered for a moment, the image clearing to show a tall darkhaired king surrounded by relatively useless body-guards, there solely for the purpose of looking impressive. King Jaymidala was far more powerful than any pathetic bodyguards anyway.

His garb was dark and ordinate, the young king's air reeking of power and control.

"Your highness." The elf bowed, shooting his kitchen-blender armored companion a glance to do likewise. Sauron followed suit a few moments later, though reluctantly. He had the strangest feeling about this King Jaymidala...

"Your orc-faceness," Jaymidala shot back.

Legolas raised one perfectly formed eyebrow.

Sauron was tempted to smite the narrator for making the elf seem so overbearingly prissy.

"Your boy... uh... bookcott of library books has ended. No longer will you charge us fees of remarkably ridiculous funds when we can't even reach the space station to return them! We will keep the books instead!"

"I was not aware of any such settlement within the Senate."

Jaymidala tightened his glare. "The Senate is useless, weak! Join with me, and toget..."

The transmission abruptly cut off to heavy static. Sauron and Legolas turned to face each other. "If the Naboo-Shire folk have began to do things outside the approval of the Senate, we must act fast to cut off their communications with the outer world," Legolas said, bemused.

"Then we act." Sauron ordered an unfortunate underling to flip the switch to scramble transmissions, but a nearby orc was hungry, and decided to eat the underling's arms.

Legolas sighed. "He assumes far too much."

"He?" inquired the orc with his mouth full.

Legolas reached out and slapped the orc. It fell over into a pit of acid and was devolved into millions of molecules and atoms within seconds, causing the end of humankind as we know it, because in that time millions of bacterial cells completed their lifespan and died. The elf sighed.

By this point, Sauron had freaked out about the gore on the button, and had to order a full system shutdown before they could end the transmissions from Naboo.

On a blue flickering hologram, a tall young woman with black hair gazed at the King and his grouping of bodyguards and various other politicians. She was Senator Caspatine, the Senator for Naboo on Coruscant. Unlike most of the other Naboo-Shire folk, she happened to be remarkably tall as well. "How can this be? I have assurances from the Chancellor... negotiations... di... ake... mus..."

The holoconnection flickered abruptly, and cut out.

King Jaymidala looked up from his library book. "Oh? Did I miss something?"

Captian Jenaka sighed. "Check the transmission generator! I want all men on this case now!"

A few seconds passed before everything was reported as A-okay, and the Captian sighed once again.

"Does this mean no more negotiation?" Jaymidala asked, attempting to look like he didn't appreciate this, but his eyes flickered with a lust for battle.

"No, your highness, you may not skewer the elf," Rob Bibble ordered dryly.

He folded his arms.

"Nor may you poison them, skin them alive, or drop them into a boiling pit of acid or crocodiles or lava," he added as an afterthought. "Though the idea of negotiation is rather useless now; we've lost all communications, and the Chancellor's ambassadors seemingly got sidetracked."

The King shrugged. "Then I can keep their books."

"They will not withhold an attack, your highness."


The Captain and Governor moaned. "Our people do not have the army resources to defend the entire planet, your highness," Captian Jenaka said softly.

"Then we can hit them over the head, and, if that doesn't work, scream," Jaymidala said wisely.

"They will bring earplugs."

"So, take them out!" He fingered the lever leading to a crocodile pit and both leading characters backed away nervously. The King grinned wickedly, and suddenly Jenaka and Rob Bibble were wondering if he really was on their side.

"Your highness..."

"We are not without resources, Captain." He fingered a ring worn on a silver chain around his neck. "Most certainly not without."

In formation above the planet of Naboo-Shire, six landing craft whirled through the atmosphere in a typically soundless motion. Of course, once they reached the atmosphere and oxygen level of the planet, there was sudden sound that burst through the silence of what had once been vacuum. As it wasn't vacuum now, though, it didn't really count to call it that. After all, it was air. Real and breathable air, at least if you were able to tolerate the low pressure of very high altitudes. And as that was unlikely, one could suppose it didn't exactly count as breathable air without a mask on.

Needless to say, in the time spent ranting about whether the air had been breathable or not, the ships reached the surface, slicing through the perpetually gray twilight of one side of the planet. One by one the Isenation ships landed in an eerie swamp in which much creepy and possibly foreshadowing theme music echoed.

However, the moment of triumph and mystery was cut off by the whiny high pitched voice of a tattle-droid overtop the whine of landing ships. "I want my mooommmmmmmmm..."

It was cut off by a sharp squeal of metal against metal, and a clatter of old parts to a soft ground.

A nearby duck took interest in the spectacle for about five seconds, honked amusedly, then took off after an unfortunate frog-like creature. The frog like creature ended up on the lunch menu for the duck's children, and life went on on Naboo as relatively normal as a planet under a Library Blockade could.

The duck was distracted from its task of dismantling the frog's inner body parts, however, when Tify-Wan's head popped out of the lake, breaking the otherwise crystal clear calm. It dropped the frog and took off in a honking fit before swooping back to grab its dinner (hey, who says galactic ducks aren't carnivorous?) and flapping off into the air.

The remarkably wet Padawan took a few deep breaths, choked on a mouthful of swamp water, and proceeded to spit it into a nearby fish's face when trying to get it out of her mouth without slipping. Unfortunately for her, she ended up slipping anyway, and fell into the lake.

Luckily for her, she was already completely soaked, so this did nothing to alter her appearance whatsoever, beyond injuring her ego slightly.

Not so far away from where the slightly odd Jedi Padawan floundered about in the small lake, a hologram of Legolas and Sauron talked to one of the higher ranked looking tattle-droids, who, at the moment, wasn't whining. Which was all in all a very impressive thing.

However, it was attempting to appear like it had everything under complete control, and that wasn't such a good thing.

"...And there is no trace of the Jedi. They may have gotten onto one of your landing crafts," Legolas said.

Good, Sauron thought, grimacing underneath his helmet in memory of the lovely graffiti that had adorned the walls of the Isenation ship. Of course, as it hadn't all yet been cleaned up, it wasn't particularly a memory, but instead cold, hard fact.

Legolas threw him a brief withering glance, and the Dark Lord wondered if perhaps the elf could read underneath his kitchen-blender styled helmet.

"If they're down here, sir, we'll find them," the tattle-droid stated. Then it's voice took on a suddenly far more whiny tone. "And we're not meeting any resistance here! Those stupid Naboo Hobbits aren't even try-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-y-ing to stop us! It's no fu-u-u-u-u-u-u-un... we don't have to blast any-y-y-y-ything-g-g-g-g..."

"That's a good thing," Sauron snapped.

"But it's no fu-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-u-un," the droid whined.

"Tough luck," Legolas growled, and cut the connection.

Not too far away, but further away from Tify-Wan than the droids, Cry-Gon jogged through the forest, staff clutched in hand, lightsaber in her other hand. Inwardly she was rejoicing that her Padawan wasn't nearby to bother her by making stupid comments at the worst times, and tempt fate at even worse times.

Of course, she was unaware by even thinking that things were all right she was tempting fate, and the narrator was plotting an otherwise evil and untimingly demise for her. Of course, not yet. No... not yet...

As if she had heard, Cry-Gon glanced up and shot a withering glare at the narrator. "Gee, I love you too," she said sarcastically.


Cry-Gon sighed.

The trees rustled evilly. Had someone listened a bit closer, they would've heard old Entish within the whispering branches and the uneven twists of the wind. They might have also noticed the trees yawning— complete with teeth. Fangy teeth. Large and woody teeth...

And the Jedi Master-Istari looked like it might go well with catsup and a bit of pepper...

Unfortunately, the fangy toothed tree in mention that was about to chow down on Cry-Gon Aninn was suddenly bowled over by a rather large droid transport. It suddenly found itself with first hand knowledge of what it felt like to be kindling. About three weeks later, it would find itself actually playing the role of kindling out to full when a troop of Gungan Guides were taught by a handmaiden in training how to light a fire in a soggy environment. It worked too, amazingly.

However, even though the remarkably vicious tree was out of the way, there was still a rather large orange and purple camouflage streaked droid transport barreling towards Cry-Gon with all malicious intent. Multiple animals fled in a rush of panic, wings biting into the air, hooves smacking the ground, and paws brushing branches in a flurry to escape. The air was suddenly rancid with terror, crackling with the animal's desire to escape as if lightning had struck.

Like the wind, Cry-Gon decided it might be a good idea to join them, grabbing the hem of her tunic as she dashed into the trees.

However, her nose made sudden friendship with the ground as she found herself dashing into a slightly fishy looking human with a computer in hand.

"Noooooo!" he cried as his copy of KotOR bounced off into the swamp. He was completely unaware of the doom headed his way as he dove into the path of the transport to attempt to save his CD-ROM.

Jedi senses and training kicking in at the last second, Cry-Gon grabbed him and threw him to the ground, dropping a second before the transport would've made a new, improved, Jedi style hood ornament out of them. Mud splattered up onto the Jedi Master's face, however, she decided a little bit of muck was less important than her life.

For a moment her thoughts flared back to her Padawan, and she wondered if Tify-Wan would have thought that wisely.

Then the incredibly awful colored transport was gone, and she stood up, brushing what muck she could off of her face. The human jumped up, grabbing his computer, and hugging the Jedi Master while trying to keep the mud from penetrating the hardware.

"Are you brainless!" Cry-Gon asked, frustrated. "A computer game isn't worth your life!"

"Hey, I can talk..."

"So can my Padawan..."

The boy blinked.

"Er, I mean..." Cry-Gon pulled a copy of the script out of her pocket. "Lessee... get killed... nope... droid ship explodes... nope... get burnt to a crisp when they cremate me... nope..." She carried on flipping through, then suddenly stopped, flipped back. "They're going to what me! Oh, blast it! That's it! I'm going to contact my agent! I don't want to be cremated... I demand to at least be buried at sea..."

The boy blinked. Again.

Cry-Gon coughed, put the script back.

"I play computer games?" he offered.

"The ability to game and speak haxX0r or g4m4r sp34k does not make you intelligent. In fact, far from it. Now get out of here, or something!" She turned to stomp off into the swamp, discovered a patch of rather slimy mud, and fell over backwards.

The boy ran over and helped the Istari-Jedi Master back to her feet. "I'm Zak-Zak Minks. And I'm going to come with you because I owe you a lifedebt and you have a cool staff."

Cry-Gon sighed. "We'll see just how long you can last with my Padawan nearby."

"Is she cute?"

It was then Cry-Gon's turn to blink. Unfortunately, as at that moment two large droid things and Tify-Wan (lightsaberless) ran out of nowhere in particular, she didn't get a chance to try to say anything either in favor or disdain of her Padawan's appearance.

"We're gonna die!" Zak-Zak exclaimed wildly. "I'll kill them all!"

Cry-Gon pushed him backwards, ignited her lightsaber, and deflected a volley of blaster bolts that would've otherwise fried the human (for convinence's sake) named Zak-Zak. At least, she thought he was human. She wasn't too sure about the pointy ears and furry feet.

The Jedi deflected enough bolts at the droids that they blew up in a dazzling display of brilliant colors. It also toasted a nearby tree and three mayflies.

Tify-Wan slumped against a tree, and stared at a leaf for a while. "Sorry, Master," she grumbled. "The water fried my lightsaber."

"She's hot," Zak-Zak noted.

Tify-Wan glared at him. "I'm your sister."

"I am!"

"Well. In reality, anyway. Besides, you're not the love interest in this story anyway."

Zak-Zak sighed, and went back to rewiring his computer game. Cry-Gon took the moment to give Tify-Wan a censuring glance. "You forgot to turn the power off, didn't you?"

"Well... no..."

"Then what did you do?"

"Er... I tried to seal it with gum, Master."

Cry-Gon moaned, a painful expression on her face. "Right. Of course. Well, recharge it, and don't try that again."

Tify-Wan sighed, and nodded, hooking the saber up to one of the downed droid's power sources, which conveniently served the narrator's purposes. She pointed over at Zak-Zak with her other hand. "Who's he?"

"A local," Cry-Gon grumbled. "And c'mon." She shot Tify-Wan a glare as she realized her Padawan had a sharpie marker, and was scribbling on one of the droid's fallen forms. "No time for that. We have to go before more show up."

"But I LIKE explosions," Zak-Zak complained.

Tify-Wan unhooked her lightsaber from the droid, and put the sharpie back in its respective pouch on her utility belt. "Yeah, right."

"I could take you to a convenient city near here where I grew up but was unfortunately banished from," Zak-Zak offered.

"A city?"


"Oh, great. Convenience," Cry-Gon observed. "Lovely. Padawan, did you know they were planning on cremating me?"

Tify-Wan blinked at the complete change of topic. "Er... no, Master."

Cry-Gon nodded. "All right. Let's follow this completely pointless plot device that will otherwise bring about the doom of the galaxy."


"You see, because we have Zak-Zak in our party, he effects the Senate enough that... oh, never mind..."

Tify-Wan proceeded to look very confused. A nearby bird proceeded to ram into a nearby droid, knocking the droid into the swamp with a loud splash that disturbed two mating fish.

"We'd better hurry," Cry-Gon added, grabbing her Padawan's arm, Zak-Zak's arm, his computer, and somehow keeping her staff and lightsaber on hand as well.

"But they'll do terrible things to me back there!" Zak-Zak complained.

"Oh, don't worry," Tify-Wan said consolingly. "You're a plot device, and it's a conspiracy. I'm more likely to hurt you than they are now."

"Oh, and that's reassuring... you're my sister!"

"That means I'm allowed to do terrible things to you, right." Tify-Wan allowed a malicious grin before her Master dragged her off towards the swamp, and shoved the computer-addicted Zak-Zak into the lead.

Review me, please!