Chapter 18: Speeder spanking
The silence in the training salle wasn’t empty; it was a living, breathing entity, thick with the echoes of Charlie’s ragged breathing and the stark truth Ahsoka had voiced. He stood in the center of that vast, sunlit space, naked but for his boots and tunic, the physical exposure somehow less total than the psychological nakedness her words had carved into him.
You’re a weird guy, Charlie.
Shaak Ti’s robe hung from her hand, an offer of cover, of a return to normality.It was a lifeline thrown to a drowning man. Charlie looked at it, then at his Master’s patient, expectant face. The hot shame that had been a molten pool in his gut began to cool, to solidify into something else.Something harder.
He didn’t take the robe.
Instead, he took a deep, shuddering breath that felt like his first. He forced his trembling legs to straighten, to bring his feet together from their torturous wide stance.The movement was clumsy, vulnerable. He didn’t try to hide his physical reaction, the clear evidence of a conflict that was anything but resolved. He just let it be there, a part of the landscape of his humiliation.Then, he bent down.
The motion was deliberate, painfully slow.He picked up the crumpled lavender silk from atop his fallen trousers. He held it for a moment, the delicate fabric stark against his calloused hand. He met Ahsoka’s gaze, then Barriss’s. There was no defiance in his eyes, only a weary, raw acknowledgment.He stepped out of his boots, then out of the puddle of his trousers. Still holding the underwear, he dressed with a methodical slowness that was somehow more dignified than any frantic scramble could have been. First the pale silk, easing it up his legs, settling it over his hips.Then the trousers, zipping and fastening them with precise clicks. He pulled his boots back on and laced them tight.
Finally, he stood straight again, fully clothed, the secret once more hidden but forever known. He looked at Shaak Ti and gave a single, small nod.Her smile transformed. The mischievous glint remained, but it was softened by a deep, unmistakable pride.She didn’t speak. She simply draped her own robe back over her shoulders.“Well,” Ahsoka said, breaking the spell. Her voice was uncharacteristically quiet.“That was… educational.”
Barriss nodded, her analytical mind clearly filing away observations. “A study in behavioral paradox.Fascinating.”
Charlie found his voice, though it was hoarse. “Can we go now? I think I’ve provided enough data for one day.”
Shaak Ti chuckled, the sound warm and rich in the high-ceilinged room.“Indeed. I believe Senator Amidala is expecting us. And I, for one, could use a drink that hasn’t been spilled by a misdirected decorative orb.”
The shift was abrupt, a merciful return to the mundane. They collected themselves, the earlier intensity dissipating into the familiar rhythm of their group dynamic, though now underpinned by a new and unspoken understanding.
Padmé’s suite was a sensory counterpoint to the sterile training salle. Gold and silver gleamed from every surface, reflecting the soft glow of glowlamps shaped like Naboo water lilies. High ceilings were draped in flowing swaths of blue and white fabric, rippling gently in the climate-controlled air, giving the illusion of a perpetually serene sky. The scent was a complex bouquet of night-blooming flowers, polished zyperwood, and something sweet and spicy from the refreshment table.
The table itself was a masterpiece of precarious elegance. Towering tiers of delicate pastries neighbored bubbling fountains of blue sparkling wine. It was towards this very tableau that a decorative orb—a polished stone sphere floating in a gentle anti-grav field—suddenly shot, as if nudged by an invisible finger.
It crashed into the stem of a champagne flute pyramid.
The resulting cascade was a slow-motion disaster of glittering liquid and shattering crystal. Champagne erupted, a golden geyser that arced through the air and landed with perfect, devastating accuracy on the intricate, perfectly coiffed braid of Jedi Master Bultar Swan.A beat of dead silence.
Then, a snort of laughter, quickly stifled.
Bultar, her face a masterpiece of composed annoyance, blinked as champagne dripped from her eyelashes onto her robes.She slowly turned her head, seeking the source of the gravitational mischief.
Her eyes landed on Shaak Ti, who was ushering her group through the doorway with an expression of pure, innocent surprise.
“Oh, dear,” Shaak Ti said, her voice dripping with counterfeit sympathy. “The atmospheric stabilizers in these old buildings are terribly unreliable.”
Charlie, hovering behind her, saw the ghost of a smile on his Master’s lips. He felt a responding grin tug at his own mouth, the first genuine expression since the speeder lot. The normalcy of her mischief was a balm.
Padmé emerged from a knot of aides, her expression a mix of dismay and amusement.“Master Swan, I am so sorry! The cleaners just polished that floor, it must have been too slick for the grav-field stabilizers.” She shot a look at Shaak Ti that was equal parts scolding and fondness. “I’ll have someone fetch you a towel.”
“No need,” Bultar said, her voice dry as Tatooine sand. With a slight twitch of her fingers, she used the Force to gather the champagne from her hair and robes, forming a spinning, shimmering orb in the air before her. She floated it neatly to a waiting service droid’s tray.“A minor baptism. I’m sure the floor was simply overzealous.”
The tension broke.Laughter rippled through the room. Ahsoka sidled up to Charlie, bumping his shoulder with hers.“See?” she muttered under her breath. “You’re not the only one who gets publicly embarrassed around here. Master Swan just got a champagne shower. You just had a… wardrobe malfunction.”
“Thanks,” Charlie said, the word thick with sarcasm but lacking its usual defensive edge. “That makes me feel much better.”
“It should.” Ahsoka grabbed two flutes of un-spilled wine from a passing droid, handing him one. “Master Swan took it like a stone.You… well, you survived. Mostly.”
He took the glass, his fingers brushing hers. “Mostly.”
He felt hyper-aware as he moved through the party.The silk against his skin was a constant, whispering reminder. Every glance felt loaded, though most were merely polite or preoccupied. He spotted Barriss deep in conversation with a Senatorial aide, her hands illustrating some complex point. He caught Shaak Ti exchanging a look with Bultar—a look of shared, ancient understanding between two women who had long mastered the art of playful, unspoken warfare.
Padmé found him near a towering window overlooking the galactic cityscape. Her smile was warm, intimate, and held a universe of shared secrets.
“I heard there was an incident in the speeder lot,” she said softly, sipping her wine.Charlie felt his cheeks heat. “You could say that.”
“I also heard,” she continued, leaning in, “that a certain pair of my favorite sleeping shorts went mysteriously absent this morning.Lavender? With little silver stars?”
He closed his eyes for a second, mortification and a strange thrill warring within him.“Yeah. Those.”
When he opened them, her expression was kind, but unyielding. “They’re my favorites, Charlie.I’d like them returned. Clean.” Her tone was that of a Senator stating a policy.Then it softened, her eyes gleaming. “Unless, of course, you’ve grown attached.They seemed to suit you.”
He had no comeback. He just shook his head, a helpless, embarrassed laugh escaping him.Her smile became genuine, warm. She touched his arm briefly.“Relax.Everyone’s too busy with politics and gossip to care about your underwear. Besides,” she added, her gaze flicking over his shoulder, “I think you have an admirer.”
Before he could turn, a new voice, smooth and vaguely amused, cut in.
“Padawan Charlie. We meet again.”
He turned to find Master Luminara Unduli standing there, her serene face regarding him with placid interest. Beside her was Barriss, who now watched him with renewed analytical focus.“Master Unduli,” Charlie said, bowing slightly.
“Your Master tells me you had a particularly… focused training session this morning,” Luminara said. “She believes you turned a corner.”
Charlie fought the urge to look for Shaak Ti. “I… I think I might have.”
“Good. Acceptance is the root of control.” Luminara’s eyes held his.“The path is often unconventional, Padawan. Do not mistake unorthodox methods for a lack of discipline. Sometimes, the deepest lessons are learned not in the light, but in the shadow of our own… peculiarities.”
It was a benediction, wrapped in Mysterious Jedi Master cryptic-speak. Barriss gave a small, approving nod, as if her Master had just explained the entire universe.
The conversation flowed around him, a river of politics, gossip, and mild philosophical debate. He was part of it, yet apart, the memory of the salle clinging to him like a second skin.He felt a shift inside himself, fragile but real. The shame was still there, but it was no longer a cage. It was just a feeling, one among many.He was standing near the refreshed—and now carefully secured—drinks table when he felt it. Not a Force nudge, but a subtle, precise pressure on the back of his right thigh, just above the knee.A flickering, intimate touch, like the memory of fingers.
His leg buckled slightly, spilling a drop of blue wine on his tunic.
He knew that signature in the Force.Warm, mischievous, and as familiar as his own breath.He didn’t turn. He just sent a tendril of his own awareness back across the room, a faint, playful pulse of acknowledgment aimed squarely at his Master.He felt her receive it.He felt her smile.
Across the suite, surrounded by diplomats, Shaak Ti lifted her own glass towards him, the faintest ghost of a toast in her eyes.The game wasn’t over.It had just changed. And for the first time, standing there in the glittering heart of Coruscant’s power, wearing the phantom silk of his own surrender, Charlie felt a sense of unsettling, exhilarating peace.
He was exactly where he was supposed to be.