Not even Jedi were immune to nightmares. Actually, many Jedi suffered from nightmares more stunning in intensity than non-Force sensitives, as a result of their augmented memory and awareness. Renora, with her fairly cheerful outlook on life, the universe, and the pursuit of everything in it -- and despite her inherent and contradictory pessimism -- didn’t suffer from many guilt-driven or fear-induced nightmares at all, and rarely had to use the Force to keep them at bay. But she had experienced nightmares in the past, just as every sentient being had been invaded by a torrent of vaporous evil while they slept.
This was something out of a nightmare.
“Kark!” shouted Renora, snatching her lightsaber from her belt and igniting the golden blade. “Kriff! Son of a kriffing, karking murglak!”
“Padawan, that’s not helping!” Giddy called over the sudden eruption of sound from the top of the cliff. Scanning the horizon with one hand shielding her eyes, Master Gidrea pulled her own lightsaber from its place at her side, its jutting blue beam flaring to life in her other hand.
“It’s not hurting, either!”
Stormtroopers on speeder tansports that spat vicious orange flame from their rear thrusters tore down the cliff’s edge with startling speed. Imp officers in their unmistakable gray uniforms followed on gray speeder bikes, shouting orders that were lost to the collective clamor. Overhead, the skies trembled with the roar of the legendary twin ion engines that leant the TIE fighter its name.
In short, a kriffing nightmare.
Renora dived for cover behind a large boulder, hearing Chewbacca follow suit somewhere to her left. Giddy batted a few crimson blaster bolts back at the stormies clambering down the side of the cliff. Taking one final look at the sky, she crouched down next to her Padawan.
“I thought you said they didn’t know we were here,” hissed Renora.
“You were the one who said they’d be here in a little less than an hour.”
“Well, how was I supposed to know?!”
“I thought you were supposed to know everything.”
Renora closed her eyes, feigning silent meditation to cover for her inability to think of a response.
“This is no time to take up meditating,” laughed Gidrea.
“You’re always telling me that there’s no time like the present,” said Renora, opening her eyes.
“Yes, but with the way things are going, we might not have very much present left.”
“You don’t seem too broken up about it!” shouted Renora as a TIE fighter began to strafe their position, lancing the musty soil with emerald turbolaser fire.
“Things are not always as they seem, Padawan.”
“So you are broken up about it?”
“I said that things are not always as they seem. In some cases, they are.”
“Like right now.” Renora ducked involuntarily as a torrent of blaster bolts glanced off the side of a boulder to her left. Chewbacca growled and returned fire.
“Partially.”
“Master! You’re talking riddles with someone who’s going to die in less than 24 hours!”
“Padawan.”
Giddy’s Padawan glanced up sharply. “What? Master.”
“Calm the kriff down.”
“You know that’s not helping,” said Renora with a sheepish smile.
“It’s not hurting, either.”
“Haven’t you ever seen someone have a nervous breakdown before?” Renora chuckled. But Giddy could see the fear in her eyes.
Chewie bellowed with an intensity to match the ion engines, his bowcaster spurting small, green blazes of energy-encased projectiles.
“He’s right,” said Gidrea. “Those Imperials will never make it all the way down the side of the cliff.”
Renora risked a glance over the top of the rock.
“They sure look like they’re going to try.”
“Do, or do not,” Gidrea sighed. “But Yoda wasn’t all-seeing.”
“And that has some bearing on our current situation?”
“Do you know the name of that cliff we were going to climb?”
“Uhh…Stillness Drop? Something like that? Stillness Plumber?”
Gidrea laughed. “I wish! Stillness Plummet. Stillness Plummet is a very different kind of cliff, Padawan. You see, the way the rock face is positioned, it’s extremely susceptible to any kind of disturbance waves.”
“Jumping droidekas,” whispered Renora.
“If only it were that amusing.”
“With the amount of noise those Imperial Gungans are making, they’re going to bring the whole kriffing mountain down on us all!”
Giddy nodded.
“What about the purple rock?”
“They may already have it. Probably not, though.”
“They’d want to make sure we’re out of the way first, so they can take their time devouring the birthday cake.”
“And the candles. And the plate.”
“There’s nothing we can do? This is how it’s going to end?”
“The great Giddy and Renora taken down by a herd of falling rocks,” said Giddy. “Would make for a horrible ending. And it was such a good story, too.”
“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of ‘the great Giddy and the really, really, really great Renora taken down by a herd of falling rocks.’ I put your name first, Master.”
“How considerate of you.”
As if to underscore Renora’s act of kindness, the ground began to shudder with practiced violence, bucking in revulsion at the violence scarring its untainted surface.
“Padawan?” Gidrea said suddenly.
“Yes, Master? Whatever you say can’t possibly make matters any worse than they are.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Certainly, and always, Master.”
“What is your purpose?”
“My purpose? To live as a Jedi, of course.”
“And so you do. But if you live as a Jedi, you must be prepared to die as a Jedi, as well. What kind of Jedi would you be if you didn’t?”
“I never wanted to be a good Jedi, Master,” said Renora, rising to her feet. “Just a live one.”
“Renora, no!” called Master Lightsky, but her voice was swallowed by another tremendous movement of the planet’s surface. Her apprentice had already begun to sprint furiously towards the face of the cliff, dodging blaster fire and a hail of chipped stone and jagged rock. “Padawan, damn you to the Nine Hells, why do you have to learn from everything I do?”
“Chewbacca!” Giddy called. “Stay here!”
Chewie cocked his head in confusion, grumbling inquisitively.
“I’m going to cover Renora.”
Lifting his bowcaster over his head, Chewie barked another question sharply.
“No, I don’t know what she’s going to do, but I don’t want her to die doing it!”
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Part 2 - Kashyyyk (Chapter 2)
“A Wookiee.”
The Wookiee immediately began to emit a series of complicated, guttural cries, yelps and howls as if to punctuate that two-word sentence.
“He understands Basic,” said Gidrea.
“Oh,” said Renora. “Oh. Sorry.”
“He’s the old friend I was telling you about, Padawan,” Gidrea said, letting a tinge of annoyance creep into her voice.
“He must not be that old of a friend, because I don’t remember befriending him.”
“His name is Chewbacca.”
“Oh!” This particular monosyllable was pronounced with greater enthusiasm than the other two. “Then he is an old friend. A friend of the Alliance.”
Chewie bellowed from deep within his furry torso, gesturing around him.
“What’s he doing on Kashyyyk?” asked Renora.
“As you so brilliantly pointed out, he’s a Wookiee,” answered Gidrea. Renora glanced at her quizzically. Her Master’s typical good humor seemed to have soured like the remnants of an overripe fruit in the sun.
“Yeah, and I’m a human. I’m not on Coruscant, or wherever scientists think humans originated from this week.”
“Yes, well, he’s the Rebel Alliance’s Wookiee liaison for this particular mission.”
“Which you still haven’t told me about. And which must be quite a killer judging by the way you’re about to have a baby bantha here.”
Gidrea didn’t even crack a smile. Her eyes seemed very dark within the shifting, multihued shadows of her cloak’s hood.
“Patience, Padawan. Not yet.”
It was an ordinary cliff, extraordinary only in its moderate elevation and abrupt, almost obscene incline with small tufts of dust wafting slowly up and down its surface. Renora had seen a million similar precipices before, in a dozen different varieties -- rock, dirt, snow, mud, packed soil, rutted sand, white water.
“We’re going to climb it, aren’t we?” asked Renora, feeling the color draining from her face, and with it, her nerve. “It’s steep. Really, really steep. If we fall, it’ll hurt.”
Gidrea said nothing. Sighing deeply, the echoes of a weariness Renora had never before detected in her Master almost palpable in that racking breath, Giddy sat down on a massive, aged, time-polished stone.
“Why don’t we just grab the ship and fly over it? Isn’t that what a ship is for? Flying over something that no civilized being would ever even glance at without feeling like they’re about to take a long drop with a sudden stop?”
Chewie growled a question, tilting his head to one side inquisitively.
“No, Chewie, I haven’t told her yet.”
Running a hand through her short hair, Renora sat down roughly on a patch of trampled, overgrown underbrush. “Kriff. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Worse,” said Master Lightksy. “We can’t take the ship because if we do, the Imperials will detect us.”
“But there aren’t any Imperials on this part of Kashyyyk. They only congregate near the settlements so they can keep track of their slaving enterprises.”
Giddy nodded approvingly. “So you did read the data pad I gave you.”
“What did you think I was going to do with it, eat it?”
“You’re more likely to eat your work than to actually do it.” Gidrea chuckled at her weak joke. “But you’re wrong, Padawan. There are Imperials on this part of Kashyyyk. About two thousand klicks north of here, actually.”
“Two thousand clicks? They could be on us in just under an hour,” said Renora, leaping to her feet as if she had sat on a stormtrooper.
“Yes, but they won’t come after us. They have something else in mind.”
“Is this the something else you haven’t told me about?”
“It is.” Giddy sighed again. “A crystal. A crystal imbued with dark side energy. A nexus of dark power that’s capable of harnessing and channeling the Force, and warping every living thing around it.”
Renora gave a low whistle. “I don’t believe this. You’ve been reading my holo-comics. They’re giving you bad dreams.”
Giddy laughed. “I wish it were all a bad dream. But it isn’t.”
“And the crystal’s on the other side of that…that…monstrosity there?”
“Yep.”
Renora blinked as if she had just awakened from a deep sleep. “This crystal…it’s full of dark side energy, right?”
Gidrea nodded.
“So it must be broadcasting like a great, big, purple neon sign that screams ‘Hey!! Dark side!! Right here!! Tall, dark, and really evil!!!’ Right?”
Gidrea nodded.
“Uh huh. And that’s why you’ve been so on edge for the entire mission.”
“Yes.”
“You mean it wasn’t because of me? I’m wounded.” Renora smiled thinly, but neither of them laughed. Renora noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Chewbacca had his bowcaster tightly gripped between his large hands.
“Here we have a big, purple, neon rock--”
“It’s blue, actually,” interrupted Gidrea.
Renora shrugged. “Blue, purple, same thing. We have a big, blue, neon rock, just busting with dark side goodness, that anyone with the Force sensitivity of a drunk Gamorrean should have been able to pick up before we hit dirtside. Right?”
“Just about.”
“Okay, good. One problem, though. I couldn’t sense it.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. Why couldn’t I sense it, Master? Why can’t I sense it?”
“Because.” Giddy hesitated. Renora couldn’t remember ever seeing her Master hesitate. “Because of the darkness you carry with you, Padawan.”
“The darkness I carry with me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Renora paced back and forth, her hand opening and closing on the hilt of her lightsaber. “And no ‘certain point of view’ stuff, please, Master.”
Giddy’s voice was very quiet. “It means that if we’re not extremely careful, you’ll be utterly consumed by the dark side of the Force in under 24 hours.”
“Okay,” said Renora, her face and voice impassive. “Okay. What’s the alternative?”
“You’ll be dead.”
Giddy and Renora’s eyes went wide as Chewbacca whipped his bowcaster towards the cliff and rumbled menacingly, his mattered hair ruffled by a slight breeze.
“Well, at least I can still sense something,” said Renora. “We have company.”
The Wookiee immediately began to emit a series of complicated, guttural cries, yelps and howls as if to punctuate that two-word sentence.
“He understands Basic,” said Gidrea.
“Oh,” said Renora. “Oh. Sorry.”
“He’s the old friend I was telling you about, Padawan,” Gidrea said, letting a tinge of annoyance creep into her voice.
“He must not be that old of a friend, because I don’t remember befriending him.”
“His name is Chewbacca.”
“Oh!” This particular monosyllable was pronounced with greater enthusiasm than the other two. “Then he is an old friend. A friend of the Alliance.”
Chewie bellowed from deep within his furry torso, gesturing around him.
“What’s he doing on Kashyyyk?” asked Renora.
“As you so brilliantly pointed out, he’s a Wookiee,” answered Gidrea. Renora glanced at her quizzically. Her Master’s typical good humor seemed to have soured like the remnants of an overripe fruit in the sun.
“Yeah, and I’m a human. I’m not on Coruscant, or wherever scientists think humans originated from this week.”
“Yes, well, he’s the Rebel Alliance’s Wookiee liaison for this particular mission.”
“Which you still haven’t told me about. And which must be quite a killer judging by the way you’re about to have a baby bantha here.”
Gidrea didn’t even crack a smile. Her eyes seemed very dark within the shifting, multihued shadows of her cloak’s hood.
“Patience, Padawan. Not yet.”
=========================
It was an ordinary cliff, extraordinary only in its moderate elevation and abrupt, almost obscene incline with small tufts of dust wafting slowly up and down its surface. Renora had seen a million similar precipices before, in a dozen different varieties -- rock, dirt, snow, mud, packed soil, rutted sand, white water.
“We’re going to climb it, aren’t we?” asked Renora, feeling the color draining from her face, and with it, her nerve. “It’s steep. Really, really steep. If we fall, it’ll hurt.”
Gidrea said nothing. Sighing deeply, the echoes of a weariness Renora had never before detected in her Master almost palpable in that racking breath, Giddy sat down on a massive, aged, time-polished stone.
“Why don’t we just grab the ship and fly over it? Isn’t that what a ship is for? Flying over something that no civilized being would ever even glance at without feeling like they’re about to take a long drop with a sudden stop?”
Chewie growled a question, tilting his head to one side inquisitively.
“No, Chewie, I haven’t told her yet.”
Running a hand through her short hair, Renora sat down roughly on a patch of trampled, overgrown underbrush. “Kriff. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“Worse,” said Master Lightksy. “We can’t take the ship because if we do, the Imperials will detect us.”
“But there aren’t any Imperials on this part of Kashyyyk. They only congregate near the settlements so they can keep track of their slaving enterprises.”
Giddy nodded approvingly. “So you did read the data pad I gave you.”
“What did you think I was going to do with it, eat it?”
“You’re more likely to eat your work than to actually do it.” Gidrea chuckled at her weak joke. “But you’re wrong, Padawan. There are Imperials on this part of Kashyyyk. About two thousand klicks north of here, actually.”
“Two thousand clicks? They could be on us in just under an hour,” said Renora, leaping to her feet as if she had sat on a stormtrooper.
“Yes, but they won’t come after us. They have something else in mind.”
“Is this the something else you haven’t told me about?”
“It is.” Giddy sighed again. “A crystal. A crystal imbued with dark side energy. A nexus of dark power that’s capable of harnessing and channeling the Force, and warping every living thing around it.”
Renora gave a low whistle. “I don’t believe this. You’ve been reading my holo-comics. They’re giving you bad dreams.”
Giddy laughed. “I wish it were all a bad dream. But it isn’t.”
“And the crystal’s on the other side of that…that…monstrosity there?”
“Yep.”
Renora blinked as if she had just awakened from a deep sleep. “This crystal…it’s full of dark side energy, right?”
Gidrea nodded.
“So it must be broadcasting like a great, big, purple neon sign that screams ‘Hey!! Dark side!! Right here!! Tall, dark, and really evil!!!’ Right?”
Gidrea nodded.
“Uh huh. And that’s why you’ve been so on edge for the entire mission.”
“Yes.”
“You mean it wasn’t because of me? I’m wounded.” Renora smiled thinly, but neither of them laughed. Renora noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Chewbacca had his bowcaster tightly gripped between his large hands.
“Here we have a big, purple, neon rock--”
“It’s blue, actually,” interrupted Gidrea.
Renora shrugged. “Blue, purple, same thing. We have a big, blue, neon rock, just busting with dark side goodness, that anyone with the Force sensitivity of a drunk Gamorrean should have been able to pick up before we hit dirtside. Right?”
“Just about.”
“Okay, good. One problem, though. I couldn’t sense it.”
“I know.”
“I know you know. Why couldn’t I sense it, Master? Why can’t I sense it?”
“Because.” Giddy hesitated. Renora couldn’t remember ever seeing her Master hesitate. “Because of the darkness you carry with you, Padawan.”
“The darkness I carry with me? What’s that supposed to mean?” Renora paced back and forth, her hand opening and closing on the hilt of her lightsaber. “And no ‘certain point of view’ stuff, please, Master.”
Giddy’s voice was very quiet. “It means that if we’re not extremely careful, you’ll be utterly consumed by the dark side of the Force in under 24 hours.”
“Okay,” said Renora, her face and voice impassive. “Okay. What’s the alternative?”
“You’ll be dead.”
Giddy and Renora’s eyes went wide as Chewbacca whipped his bowcaster towards the cliff and rumbled menacingly, his mattered hair ruffled by a slight breeze.
“Well, at least I can still sense something,” said Renora. “We have company.”
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Part 2 - Kashyyyk (Chapter 1)
Chapter 1: Non-Fiction
Believe it or not, Renora considered herself an amateur poet. Of course, in this instance, the word “amateur” takes the meaning “not professional,” rather than “inept,” or “unskilled,” or “unpolished.” In her very few, very scattered, very coveted instances of solitude, Renora liked to keep her mental faculties in a relative state of preservation by composing short poems in her head. The most relevant example would be her latest literary concoction, a loosely fashioned limerick.
Nexus are far worse than Acklay and Reek
And the Sarlaac pit is worse than a Teek
But nothing I’ve seen
Has been quite so mean
As this green planet that they call Kashyyyk
This particular piece of poetry happened to be non-fiction.
“Have I told you how much I hate Kashyyyk?” said Renora, half-tripping, half-stepping over a large, rotting tree trunk.
“In the last five minutes? No, I don’t think so.”
“I managed to go a whole five minutes without saying something? I think I’m impressed,” Renora grinned.
“No, you’ve said something. Several somethings, actually.”
“I’m sure you didn’t hear a word I was saying,” muttered Renora, sullen again.
“How sure?” said Gidrea, momentarily distracted as she checked her wrist chrono and lifted her arm to the sun.
“We have about five hours of daylight left. I already calculated it.”
“How long ago did you calculate it?”
Renora glanced down at her mud-speckled boots. “When we left the ship.”
“In other words, two hours ago.”
“Yeah, in other words.”
“And five minus two is what, my mathematically challenged apprentice?”
“It depends on whether we’re speaking quantitively or theoretically,” shrugged Renora, smiling deviously.
Giddy sighed, sitting on a crooked, sunken stump that looked as if it had been anchored with decaying roots to the same spot for the last three thousand years. She smoothed her robes over its inexplicably clean surface. Renora glanced around her, searching for a similarly unblemished place to seat her filthy frame. She couldn’t find one.
“I think the only time you’re happy is when you’re controlling a conversation,” said Master Giddy.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” asked Renora, her expression a study in indignant irritation.
“You’re right, that was unfair. You’re also happy when you’re complaining about something that you don’t want to be doing.”
“Master, what has you on edge?” probed Renora, growing concerned. “Besides me.”
Taking a long drink from her water bottle, Gidrea sighed again. “The mission.”
“Which you haven’t told me anything about, I’ve noticed.”
“Nice to see you putting those noticing skills to good use,” said Giddy, a faint ghost of a smile on her lips.
“Could you tell me something about the mission? And what about the old friend we’re going to meet?”
Giddy nodded. “Sit down.”
“Um,” Renora looked around once more, “I would, but I can’t find anywhere to sit.”
“Did you look for one?”
“Yes, and everything’s covered in muddy dirt. Or dirty mud. Or both.”
“And you’re not?” chuckled Giddy.
“No need to make matters worse,” said Renora, crossing her arms. “You taught me that it can always be worse. Just because it can be doesn’t mean it should be.”
“When you were noticing things, did you happen to notice that I found a clean place to sit?”
“Yeah, I did notice that.”
“And you didn’t ask how I did it.”
“So there’s some Force technique for cleaning three-thousand-year-old mud?”
“That’s why I’m not going to tell you about the mission. Yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because you need to learn patience. You’re so fixed on one thing that you don’t notice anything else.”
“I do notice things, Master. I just…don’t always…”
“Notice that you’re noticing them?” Giddy nodded. “Understandable.”
“Understandable?” piped Renora, suddenly hopeful. “You mean, it’s not uncommon?”
“No, it’s not uncommon. Just about every Padawan goes through it at least once in their training.” Gidrea paused for a moment. “Now that you understand it, move through it.”
“You mean ‘get over it.’”
“Basically.”
Renora opened and closed her mouth a few uncomfortable times, several rejoinders that were smothered in satisfying snippyness crossing through her mind but failing to reach her tongue. “Yes, Master,” she finally bit out, her voice strained. “I’ll figure it all out.”
Gidrea laughed, leaping to her feet with startling agility. “No need to try and figure it all out, Padawan. Just what matters at this moment! Don’t give yourself a bigger headache than you give me.”
Believe it or not, Renora considered herself an amateur poet. Of course, in this instance, the word “amateur” takes the meaning “not professional,” rather than “inept,” or “unskilled,” or “unpolished.” In her very few, very scattered, very coveted instances of solitude, Renora liked to keep her mental faculties in a relative state of preservation by composing short poems in her head. The most relevant example would be her latest literary concoction, a loosely fashioned limerick.
Nexus are far worse than Acklay and Reek
And the Sarlaac pit is worse than a Teek
But nothing I’ve seen
Has been quite so mean
As this green planet that they call Kashyyyk
This particular piece of poetry happened to be non-fiction.
“Have I told you how much I hate Kashyyyk?” said Renora, half-tripping, half-stepping over a large, rotting tree trunk.
“In the last five minutes? No, I don’t think so.”
“I managed to go a whole five minutes without saying something? I think I’m impressed,” Renora grinned.
“No, you’ve said something. Several somethings, actually.”
“I’m sure you didn’t hear a word I was saying,” muttered Renora, sullen again.
“How sure?” said Gidrea, momentarily distracted as she checked her wrist chrono and lifted her arm to the sun.
“We have about five hours of daylight left. I already calculated it.”
“How long ago did you calculate it?”
Renora glanced down at her mud-speckled boots. “When we left the ship.”
“In other words, two hours ago.”
“Yeah, in other words.”
“And five minus two is what, my mathematically challenged apprentice?”
“It depends on whether we’re speaking quantitively or theoretically,” shrugged Renora, smiling deviously.
Giddy sighed, sitting on a crooked, sunken stump that looked as if it had been anchored with decaying roots to the same spot for the last three thousand years. She smoothed her robes over its inexplicably clean surface. Renora glanced around her, searching for a similarly unblemished place to seat her filthy frame. She couldn’t find one.
“I think the only time you’re happy is when you’re controlling a conversation,” said Master Giddy.
“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” asked Renora, her expression a study in indignant irritation.
“You’re right, that was unfair. You’re also happy when you’re complaining about something that you don’t want to be doing.”
“Master, what has you on edge?” probed Renora, growing concerned. “Besides me.”
Taking a long drink from her water bottle, Gidrea sighed again. “The mission.”
“Which you haven’t told me anything about, I’ve noticed.”
“Nice to see you putting those noticing skills to good use,” said Giddy, a faint ghost of a smile on her lips.
“Could you tell me something about the mission? And what about the old friend we’re going to meet?”
Giddy nodded. “Sit down.”
“Um,” Renora looked around once more, “I would, but I can’t find anywhere to sit.”
“Did you look for one?”
“Yes, and everything’s covered in muddy dirt. Or dirty mud. Or both.”
“And you’re not?” chuckled Giddy.
“No need to make matters worse,” said Renora, crossing her arms. “You taught me that it can always be worse. Just because it can be doesn’t mean it should be.”
“When you were noticing things, did you happen to notice that I found a clean place to sit?”
“Yeah, I did notice that.”
“And you didn’t ask how I did it.”
“So there’s some Force technique for cleaning three-thousand-year-old mud?”
“That’s why I’m not going to tell you about the mission. Yet.”
“Why not?”
“Because you need to learn patience. You’re so fixed on one thing that you don’t notice anything else.”
“I do notice things, Master. I just…don’t always…”
“Notice that you’re noticing them?” Giddy nodded. “Understandable.”
“Understandable?” piped Renora, suddenly hopeful. “You mean, it’s not uncommon?”
“No, it’s not uncommon. Just about every Padawan goes through it at least once in their training.” Gidrea paused for a moment. “Now that you understand it, move through it.”
“You mean ‘get over it.’”
“Basically.”
Renora opened and closed her mouth a few uncomfortable times, several rejoinders that were smothered in satisfying snippyness crossing through her mind but failing to reach her tongue. “Yes, Master,” she finally bit out, her voice strained. “I’ll figure it all out.”
Gidrea laughed, leaping to her feet with startling agility. “No need to try and figure it all out, Padawan. Just what matters at this moment! Don’t give yourself a bigger headache than you give me.”
Part 1 - Tansarii Point Station (Chapter 3)
Chapter 3: The Fading Darkness
When the darkness dissipated, and the wounded haze cleared from her misted vision, the first thing Renora noticed was that she was still alive. The next thing she noticed was that being alive hurt. She groaned softly, clawing the grass with a pain-clenched hand.
“Did you make it?” Giddy’s voice crackled through the comlink.
“No,” grunted Renora, struggling to roll over onto her back.
“I always knew you’d be one of those Force ghosts who never shut up.”
“You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way,” Renora muttered, trying to pull herself into a sitting position but falling back against the densely packed earth.
“My hearing still works just fine.”
Propping herself up with her good arm, Renora shook her head to clear it, face reddening with the small exertion. Her deep, inquisitive brown eyes suddenly widened almost comically, the redness in her face fading with the surge of a white pallor.
“What…What the…How did…” she stuttered, sitting upright.
“Didn’t I tell you not to complain about something unless you can do better?” Gidrea asked wryly.
“Yeah,” Renora strained through gritted teeth, easing herself up until she was standing on two wobbly legs.
“Then you shouldn’t complain about people who can’t communicate properly.”
“You think I’m a poor communicator? I thought you knew me better than that.” The Tanc Mites still lurked in their epic ugliness everywhere she looked, but with one subtle difference compared to her last memory of them. While Renora was very much alive and in very much pain, the Tanc mites’ condition was directly reversed.
They felt much less pain than she did, because each and every one of those insectile monstrosities was dead.
“Better than you know yourself, perhaps,” said Master Lightsky. Her voice was very soft.
Renora looked around her, turning in slow circles to take in everything from as many vantage points as she could. Stretching her awareness through the Force, Renora touched each life form as gently as possible, nudging the oversized insects with a tender trace of Force energy. She moved past their primitive, predatory impulses and into the portion of their brains that regulated life, consciousness. She checked for the delicate but powerful synapses that fired continuously to create life. They were silent. She cast her awareness into the small, simple hearts that pumped alien blood through the insects’ veins. They were silent.
The Tanc mites were dead. Gone. Renora gasped.
“Padawan,” said Gidrea, her voice an odd mixture of compassion and authority that Renora had heard from her Master only a few times before. “Padawan.”
“I’m still here, Master,” bit Renora, her response sharper than she had intended.
“Come to the hangar bay.”
“Yes, Master.”
“I thought you told me that bravery was for people who prefer dying heroically over living heroically,” said Renora, looking at the small ship behind her Master’s robed figure.
“Yes, I did,” said Gidrea, pulling her hood forward. “But knowing you, I’m going to regret that in a moment.”
Renora gave her Master her patented “Who, me?” look, and folded her arms over her chest. “You came in that?” she asked, pointing at the broken-down, rust-streaked craft.
“No, I walked,” Giddy answered.
“No wonder it took you so long to get here,” said Renora, stifling a grin. “But if you came in that thing, you’re braver than I thought.”
“If I’ve ever done anything in my life to convince you that I’m brave, then I’m a worse example for you than I thought.”
Renora laughed, but her Master could tell that it was forced. Her apprentice was badly injured, and it wasn’t just her wrenched shoulder, cracked skull, and numerous cuts and abrasions that ran across her arms and legs--she was afraid. More afraid than Giddy had ever seen her.
“Let’s get you inside the ship,” she said. Renora nodded gratefully and followed Gidrea up the boarding ramp.
A ration pack and a short dip in a bacta tank later, Renora lounged in one of the surprisingly comfortable seats in the back of the small med bay. A new, refreshingly clean robe was draped over the back of her chair, and she was reading from a handheld data pad. Although her head still pounded slightly, the situation seemed to have improved. But she was still shaken. Renora shuddered as Giddy entered the room and took a seat across from her apprentice.
“I heard that during the Clone Wars, Master Kenobi went through fourteen robes in three years,” said Renora.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Gidrea laughed.
“Oh, sure,” Renora grinned evilly.
“Is that you’re way of thanking me for the new robe?”
“Possibly.”
“Whoever taught you manners should be impaled on the end of a lightsaber.”
“Do you want to do it, or should I?” They both laughed.
“I always thought that if the Jedi just got rid of those robes, it would make things a lot easier.”
“The robe is part of the look,” said Renora. “Part of what makes a Jedi who she is. It’s all about humility, something I know all about.” She tried to smile but failed. Gidrea didn’t need the Force to tell her that her apprentice was deeply troubled. She tapped her booted heal against the floor in the uncomfortable silence that followed.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t read minds,” Giddy said finally.
Renora stared at the scuffed floor below her boots. “Then how’d you know I was disappointed?”
Gidrea was silent, waiting.
Heaving a deep sigh, Renora raised her head slowly, as if all the burdens she was forced to bear since Gidrea found her as a young child, always in hiding but never in fear, had finally caught up to her. She seemed older, and infinitely more tired, than someone of her years.
“I think I touched the dark side today, Master.”
Gidrea nodded.
“I guess I was…too set on the goal. I forget to concentrate on the means. I looked around…and they were all dead.” She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “All the bugs.”
“I sent you on this mission because you needed to learn that taking a life -- even as small and ugly a life as a Tanc mite’s -- disrupts the balance of the Force. Do not become so preoccupied with what you’ve set out to do that you forget what it means to be a Jedi.”
“I’m guessing it’s not the robe,” said Renora, a ghost of her familiar, easy smile playing across her face. “But the Sith wear robes, too, Master.”
Renora leapt backwards, almost toppling over the wide-backed chair, as Gidrea thrust her blue blade in front of her apprentice’s face.
“What was that for?” asked Renora, right hand clutching her lightsaber. “It’s amazing I’ve kept my sense of good humor after being around you for so long.” She straightened her tunic indignantly. “And I haven’t lost any arms.”
“If I were a Sith,” said Gidrea, “I would try to kill you right now. Even though I’m tempted to do that anyway, I won’t, since some of what Yoda taught me did manage to sink in a little bit, unfortunately. But a Sith would focus only on the goal, and see that scaring you half to death is the quickest way to get you to understand what I’m trying to tell you. I focus on the method, and see that the quickest way isn’t always the best way.” She shut down her lightsaber and clipped it to her belt.
“So does that mean I get to live?” asked Renora, easing herself back into the chair.
“This time.”
“You know, I think I like you better when we’re separated by half a dozen light-years of vacuum.”
“I’ll remember that next time you’re in a room full of carnivorous bugs.”
Renora nodded. “Where are we off to now?”
“To visit an old friend.”
“Didn’t you say that last time?”
“Am I going to regret it?”
“I’m just not so sure I can survive any more visits from old friends.”
When the darkness dissipated, and the wounded haze cleared from her misted vision, the first thing Renora noticed was that she was still alive. The next thing she noticed was that being alive hurt. She groaned softly, clawing the grass with a pain-clenched hand.
“Did you make it?” Giddy’s voice crackled through the comlink.
“No,” grunted Renora, struggling to roll over onto her back.
“I always knew you’d be one of those Force ghosts who never shut up.”
“You shouldn’t talk about yourself that way,” Renora muttered, trying to pull herself into a sitting position but falling back against the densely packed earth.
“My hearing still works just fine.”
Propping herself up with her good arm, Renora shook her head to clear it, face reddening with the small exertion. Her deep, inquisitive brown eyes suddenly widened almost comically, the redness in her face fading with the surge of a white pallor.
“What…What the…How did…” she stuttered, sitting upright.
“Didn’t I tell you not to complain about something unless you can do better?” Gidrea asked wryly.
“Yeah,” Renora strained through gritted teeth, easing herself up until she was standing on two wobbly legs.
“Then you shouldn’t complain about people who can’t communicate properly.”
“You think I’m a poor communicator? I thought you knew me better than that.” The Tanc Mites still lurked in their epic ugliness everywhere she looked, but with one subtle difference compared to her last memory of them. While Renora was very much alive and in very much pain, the Tanc mites’ condition was directly reversed.
They felt much less pain than she did, because each and every one of those insectile monstrosities was dead.
“Better than you know yourself, perhaps,” said Master Lightsky. Her voice was very soft.
Renora looked around her, turning in slow circles to take in everything from as many vantage points as she could. Stretching her awareness through the Force, Renora touched each life form as gently as possible, nudging the oversized insects with a tender trace of Force energy. She moved past their primitive, predatory impulses and into the portion of their brains that regulated life, consciousness. She checked for the delicate but powerful synapses that fired continuously to create life. They were silent. She cast her awareness into the small, simple hearts that pumped alien blood through the insects’ veins. They were silent.
The Tanc mites were dead. Gone. Renora gasped.
“Padawan,” said Gidrea, her voice an odd mixture of compassion and authority that Renora had heard from her Master only a few times before. “Padawan.”
“I’m still here, Master,” bit Renora, her response sharper than she had intended.
“Come to the hangar bay.”
“Yes, Master.”
=========================
“I thought you told me that bravery was for people who prefer dying heroically over living heroically,” said Renora, looking at the small ship behind her Master’s robed figure.
“Yes, I did,” said Gidrea, pulling her hood forward. “But knowing you, I’m going to regret that in a moment.”
Renora gave her Master her patented “Who, me?” look, and folded her arms over her chest. “You came in that?” she asked, pointing at the broken-down, rust-streaked craft.
“No, I walked,” Giddy answered.
“No wonder it took you so long to get here,” said Renora, stifling a grin. “But if you came in that thing, you’re braver than I thought.”
“If I’ve ever done anything in my life to convince you that I’m brave, then I’m a worse example for you than I thought.”
Renora laughed, but her Master could tell that it was forced. Her apprentice was badly injured, and it wasn’t just her wrenched shoulder, cracked skull, and numerous cuts and abrasions that ran across her arms and legs--she was afraid. More afraid than Giddy had ever seen her.
“Let’s get you inside the ship,” she said. Renora nodded gratefully and followed Gidrea up the boarding ramp.
=========================
A ration pack and a short dip in a bacta tank later, Renora lounged in one of the surprisingly comfortable seats in the back of the small med bay. A new, refreshingly clean robe was draped over the back of her chair, and she was reading from a handheld data pad. Although her head still pounded slightly, the situation seemed to have improved. But she was still shaken. Renora shuddered as Giddy entered the room and took a seat across from her apprentice.
“I heard that during the Clone Wars, Master Kenobi went through fourteen robes in three years,” said Renora.
“I had nothing to do with it,” Gidrea laughed.
“Oh, sure,” Renora grinned evilly.
“Is that you’re way of thanking me for the new robe?”
“Possibly.”
“Whoever taught you manners should be impaled on the end of a lightsaber.”
“Do you want to do it, or should I?” They both laughed.
“I always thought that if the Jedi just got rid of those robes, it would make things a lot easier.”
“The robe is part of the look,” said Renora. “Part of what makes a Jedi who she is. It’s all about humility, something I know all about.” She tried to smile but failed. Gidrea didn’t need the Force to tell her that her apprentice was deeply troubled. She tapped her booted heal against the floor in the uncomfortable silence that followed.
“Sorry to disappoint you, but I can’t read minds,” Giddy said finally.
Renora stared at the scuffed floor below her boots. “Then how’d you know I was disappointed?”
Gidrea was silent, waiting.
Heaving a deep sigh, Renora raised her head slowly, as if all the burdens she was forced to bear since Gidrea found her as a young child, always in hiding but never in fear, had finally caught up to her. She seemed older, and infinitely more tired, than someone of her years.
“I think I touched the dark side today, Master.”
Gidrea nodded.
“I guess I was…too set on the goal. I forget to concentrate on the means. I looked around…and they were all dead.” She laughed, but there was no humor in the sound. “All the bugs.”
“I sent you on this mission because you needed to learn that taking a life -- even as small and ugly a life as a Tanc mite’s -- disrupts the balance of the Force. Do not become so preoccupied with what you’ve set out to do that you forget what it means to be a Jedi.”
“I’m guessing it’s not the robe,” said Renora, a ghost of her familiar, easy smile playing across her face. “But the Sith wear robes, too, Master.”
Renora leapt backwards, almost toppling over the wide-backed chair, as Gidrea thrust her blue blade in front of her apprentice’s face.
“What was that for?” asked Renora, right hand clutching her lightsaber. “It’s amazing I’ve kept my sense of good humor after being around you for so long.” She straightened her tunic indignantly. “And I haven’t lost any arms.”
“If I were a Sith,” said Gidrea, “I would try to kill you right now. Even though I’m tempted to do that anyway, I won’t, since some of what Yoda taught me did manage to sink in a little bit, unfortunately. But a Sith would focus only on the goal, and see that scaring you half to death is the quickest way to get you to understand what I’m trying to tell you. I focus on the method, and see that the quickest way isn’t always the best way.” She shut down her lightsaber and clipped it to her belt.
“So does that mean I get to live?” asked Renora, easing herself back into the chair.
“This time.”
“You know, I think I like you better when we’re separated by half a dozen light-years of vacuum.”
“I’ll remember that next time you’re in a room full of carnivorous bugs.”
Renora nodded. “Where are we off to now?”
“To visit an old friend.”
“Didn’t you say that last time?”
“Am I going to regret it?”
“I’m just not so sure I can survive any more visits from old friends.”
Part 1 - Tansarii Point Station (Chapter 2)
Chapter 2: Assumptions
Renora never had trouble remembering things under pressure. Not only was she capable of retaining nearly ten times the amount of information that normal sentient beings processed on a regular basis via memory-enhancement techniques enacted through the Force, Renora was born with a naturally photographic memory that she’d noticed even before she’d met the strange older woman who levitated rocks with her mind. Conversations, events, minute details that would typically bounce away happily unnoticed and unconsidered, were all logged away in her memory to be replayed, analyzed, and manipulated.
As a matter of fact, Renora probably functioned better under pressure than she did under normal circumstances, since she had not only the benefit of her intellect, her training, and the omnipotent threads of the Force, but of untainted, unmarred adrenal strength. Not to mention the quite formidable strength of her own verbal self-abuse if she screwed up. But sometimes, just sometimes, she wished she didn’t remember things so well.
Take the current state of affairs, for example. She was perched on a tree branch, the strength of which could only be calculated in terms of low probability (which Renora recognized immediately, despite her distaste for the word “calculate”), one arm wrenched painfully out of it socket (which was obviously not a natural thing, and Jedi were all for the natural thing), and the cords of muscle in her neck throbbing with a lifeless, deadening pain in time to the regularity of her pulse. She was surrounded by a bunch of oversized, carnivorous beetles that looked like a drawing from some sort of demented comic cube. She probably had a dislocated shoulder, possibly had a concussion, and was definitely in big trouble. And her weapon was gone.
Despite all of this, and all the inherent distraction that came with it, all she could do was remember something Master Giddy had told her a long, long time ago. Actually, it couldn’t have been that long ago, seeing as Renora hadn’t even hit her seventeenth year in this Force-forsaken galaxy that, against all the odds that her Master refused to hear, she had found some reason to love. Nevertheless, it seemed like several lingering eternities ago, and a couple of infinities tossed in for good measure; from a certain point of view and all that poodoo.
It was in that cave with the squills. Renora had been complaining about how repulsive the creatures were, hideously human in their stature and build, in their long, thin chests and two legs, but something obviously alien and revolting in their small, red-yellow eyes, and the dripping, gnashing daggers lined in neat rows within their cavernous mouths.
“Go on, say it.”
“Say what, Master?” Renora asked, pausing to catch her breath against the worn, corpse-gray rock in the cave wall.
“I thought it, too, when I first saw them.”
“Master?”
Gidrea regarded her apprentice for a moment, arms crossed against her robed chest. A thin strand of hair, still a blistering red despite her years, had fallen into the Jedi Master’s face. She brushed it away impatiently, reaching down into the backpack Renora had set against the cavern wall.
“Padawan, remember the holos of Master Qui-Gon I showed you?”
“Master, I’m many things, among them annoying and impetuous. But I’m not blind. And not likely to forget something like that. Or someone like that,” she chuckled.
“Those sparkling blue eyes. You would’ve liked him,” Giddy laughed, her eyes suddenly reflecting an odd mixture of happiness and forgotten sorrow. “He was a good man. And a great Jedi. Speaking of Jedi, your Master is getting old. Mind lifting that water bottle out of the pack for me?”
“Another one of those benefits of age, Master?”
“What, ordering you around?”
“No, of course not. You’re my Master, you’re supposed to order me around. That way I learn the value of humility. And, judging by the way things are going, you’re going to be ordering me around for a long, long, long time.”
“I never believed in all that ‘humility’ nonsense,” said Giddy, taking a sip from the water bottle. “I just like telling you what to do.”
“I know that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“Why? You haven’t convinced yourself yet?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked myself lately. I’m not the one who stands around and chats with invisible people. Master,” she added, muffling a short laugh.
“They’re invisible so they don’t frighten young Padawans who still sleep with stuffed banthas.”
“Hey, I’m not the only one who doesn’t sleep by myself, you know. And I noticed that before you introduced me to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master Emeritus. That was just a confirmation,” Renora snickered slyly.
“Good to know some of those lessons on minding your surroundings have finally sunk in.”
“What can I say? I have a very good teacher.”
“Hmph. Anyway, I happened to notice that your skills with the Force haven’t gone away in all the time you spent practicing your wit. Yet you still managed to notice how handsome Master Qui-Gon is.”
“Last I checked, I don’t belong to any weird, backwater Force cult where they burn out your eyes when you achieve mastery of the Force.”
“Mastery of the Force is overrated.”
“I thought you said it doesn’t exist, because mastery is a relative term.”
“No, that sounds like something you’d say. But the point is, Padawan, your senses don’t just disappear when you call on the Force. Sometimes, it’s equally important to pay attention to what your eyes are telling you as well as what the Force is telling you. Otherwise, you might miss something you would’ve otherwise noticed. You can sense a person is coming, but you don’t know how good-looking they are until you do the important part: the looking.”
“So that’s why I’m always crashing into stuff. I don’t use my eyes.”
Gidrea laughed. “No, that’s just because all those lessons about footwork are only good for lightsaber combat. But you can certainly judge the location of a squill by using your nose. You complained long enough about the way they look, but you didn’t mention the smell.”
“I thought it was obvious,” Renora muttered.
“Obvious is a relative term.”
“That sounds like something I’d say.”
“The benefits of youth, Padawan?”
“What benefit is that?”
“Always taking credit for everything.”
“No, Master, that’s just the product of your training,” Renora grinned.
“Only in your mind, my very young apprentice!”
“Are you going to say it?”
Renora was startled out of her brief reverie and glanced down at the comlink on her wrist. Her thighs had begun to shake with the exertion of remaining crouched on the slender, serrated tree limb, and she closed her eyes for a moment to send tendrils of Force energy to calm the tense muscles. When the trembling abided, Renora took several short, gasping breaths, face and neck awash with perspiration.
“Say what, Master?”
“What you never said at the squill cave.”
Renora shook her head, deciding not to waste her limited reserve of strength on surprise.
“How did you know I was thinking about the cave?”
“I didn’t.”
Sighing, Renora risked a glimpse at the Tanc Mites below her, their gnashing mandibles working in a wet, repugnant display of visceral hunger. She suppressed a shudder, stretching her consciousness into the familiar arrays of the Force that surrounded and penetrated everything around her.
“You have to jump sometime,” Gidrea said, her voice unusually soft.
“Not before I say it,” Renora reminded her.
“That’s okay, we both know Tanc Mites stink.”
“You thought that’s what I was going to say? At the squill cave? That the squills smell bad?” Renora laughed, detecting the briefest of hesitations in her Master’s response.
“What was it then?”
“I was just going to say that Jedi have no sense.”
With that, she hurled herself into the terror below.
As a matter of fact, Renora probably functioned better under pressure than she did under normal circumstances, since she had not only the benefit of her intellect, her training, and the omnipotent threads of the Force, but of untainted, unmarred adrenal strength. Not to mention the quite formidable strength of her own verbal self-abuse if she screwed up. But sometimes, just sometimes, she wished she didn’t remember things so well.
Take the current state of affairs, for example. She was perched on a tree branch, the strength of which could only be calculated in terms of low probability (which Renora recognized immediately, despite her distaste for the word “calculate”), one arm wrenched painfully out of it socket (which was obviously not a natural thing, and Jedi were all for the natural thing), and the cords of muscle in her neck throbbing with a lifeless, deadening pain in time to the regularity of her pulse. She was surrounded by a bunch of oversized, carnivorous beetles that looked like a drawing from some sort of demented comic cube. She probably had a dislocated shoulder, possibly had a concussion, and was definitely in big trouble. And her weapon was gone.
Despite all of this, and all the inherent distraction that came with it, all she could do was remember something Master Giddy had told her a long, long time ago. Actually, it couldn’t have been that long ago, seeing as Renora hadn’t even hit her seventeenth year in this Force-forsaken galaxy that, against all the odds that her Master refused to hear, she had found some reason to love. Nevertheless, it seemed like several lingering eternities ago, and a couple of infinities tossed in for good measure; from a certain point of view and all that poodoo.
It was in that cave with the squills. Renora had been complaining about how repulsive the creatures were, hideously human in their stature and build, in their long, thin chests and two legs, but something obviously alien and revolting in their small, red-yellow eyes, and the dripping, gnashing daggers lined in neat rows within their cavernous mouths.
=========================
“Go on, say it.”
“Say what, Master?” Renora asked, pausing to catch her breath against the worn, corpse-gray rock in the cave wall.
“I thought it, too, when I first saw them.”
“Master?”
Gidrea regarded her apprentice for a moment, arms crossed against her robed chest. A thin strand of hair, still a blistering red despite her years, had fallen into the Jedi Master’s face. She brushed it away impatiently, reaching down into the backpack Renora had set against the cavern wall.
“Padawan, remember the holos of Master Qui-Gon I showed you?”
“Master, I’m many things, among them annoying and impetuous. But I’m not blind. And not likely to forget something like that. Or someone like that,” she chuckled.
“Those sparkling blue eyes. You would’ve liked him,” Giddy laughed, her eyes suddenly reflecting an odd mixture of happiness and forgotten sorrow. “He was a good man. And a great Jedi. Speaking of Jedi, your Master is getting old. Mind lifting that water bottle out of the pack for me?”
“Another one of those benefits of age, Master?”
“What, ordering you around?”
“No, of course not. You’re my Master, you’re supposed to order me around. That way I learn the value of humility. And, judging by the way things are going, you’re going to be ordering me around for a long, long, long time.”
“I never believed in all that ‘humility’ nonsense,” said Giddy, taking a sip from the water bottle. “I just like telling you what to do.”
“I know that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
“Why? You haven’t convinced yourself yet?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t asked myself lately. I’m not the one who stands around and chats with invisible people. Master,” she added, muffling a short laugh.
“They’re invisible so they don’t frighten young Padawans who still sleep with stuffed banthas.”
“Hey, I’m not the only one who doesn’t sleep by myself, you know. And I noticed that before you introduced me to Obi-Wan Kenobi, Jedi Master Emeritus. That was just a confirmation,” Renora snickered slyly.
“Good to know some of those lessons on minding your surroundings have finally sunk in.”
“What can I say? I have a very good teacher.”
“Hmph. Anyway, I happened to notice that your skills with the Force haven’t gone away in all the time you spent practicing your wit. Yet you still managed to notice how handsome Master Qui-Gon is.”
“Last I checked, I don’t belong to any weird, backwater Force cult where they burn out your eyes when you achieve mastery of the Force.”
“Mastery of the Force is overrated.”
“I thought you said it doesn’t exist, because mastery is a relative term.”
“No, that sounds like something you’d say. But the point is, Padawan, your senses don’t just disappear when you call on the Force. Sometimes, it’s equally important to pay attention to what your eyes are telling you as well as what the Force is telling you. Otherwise, you might miss something you would’ve otherwise noticed. You can sense a person is coming, but you don’t know how good-looking they are until you do the important part: the looking.”
“So that’s why I’m always crashing into stuff. I don’t use my eyes.”
Gidrea laughed. “No, that’s just because all those lessons about footwork are only good for lightsaber combat. But you can certainly judge the location of a squill by using your nose. You complained long enough about the way they look, but you didn’t mention the smell.”
“I thought it was obvious,” Renora muttered.
“Obvious is a relative term.”
“That sounds like something I’d say.”
“The benefits of youth, Padawan?”
“What benefit is that?”
“Always taking credit for everything.”
“No, Master, that’s just the product of your training,” Renora grinned.
“Only in your mind, my very young apprentice!”
=========================
“Are you going to say it?”
Renora was startled out of her brief reverie and glanced down at the comlink on her wrist. Her thighs had begun to shake with the exertion of remaining crouched on the slender, serrated tree limb, and she closed her eyes for a moment to send tendrils of Force energy to calm the tense muscles. When the trembling abided, Renora took several short, gasping breaths, face and neck awash with perspiration.
“Say what, Master?”
“What you never said at the squill cave.”
Renora shook her head, deciding not to waste her limited reserve of strength on surprise.
“How did you know I was thinking about the cave?”
“I didn’t.”
Sighing, Renora risked a glimpse at the Tanc Mites below her, their gnashing mandibles working in a wet, repugnant display of visceral hunger. She suppressed a shudder, stretching her consciousness into the familiar arrays of the Force that surrounded and penetrated everything around her.
“You have to jump sometime,” Gidrea said, her voice unusually soft.
“Not before I say it,” Renora reminded her.
“That’s okay, we both know Tanc Mites stink.”
“You thought that’s what I was going to say? At the squill cave? That the squills smell bad?” Renora laughed, detecting the briefest of hesitations in her Master’s response.
“What was it then?”
“I was just going to say that Jedi have no sense.”
With that, she hurled herself into the terror below.
Part 1 - Tansarii Point Station (Chapter 1)
Chapter 1: Nothing Easy
The sickening squeals and coarse, vile cackling emitted by the gnashing talons of those massive fiends filled the room with terrifying echoes. Their dark, multifaceted eyes, glinting with tints of red and blue and green, reflected the horror in her own. Struggling against the pounding of her rebellious heart, she breathed deeply through her nose and tried to reach out to the Force. With the stench of these vile creatures filling her nostrils and making it impossible to concentrate, this wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
But since when was anything easy?
“Master?” she gasped, feinting at the nearest Tanc Mite with her long lance.
“Yes?”
Renora Ta’a rolled her eyes at the almost lazy response. It was apparent that her Master wasn’t taking the situation as seriously as she should be. As usual.
“Master, I’m not so sure--argh!” Amidst a shrieking cry, one of the beasts directly to her left raised his massive, sharply-haired leg, and brought it down with the full strength of his large body. Renora blocked the blow with her lance and batted its leg aside, pulling the weapon back and forcing it into the creature’s body with a nauseating crunch.
“Master, I don’t think this is such a good idea!” she hissed into her wrist comlink.
“It was your idea, Padawan,” Gidrea replied, her voice muffled by static. To her annoyance, Renora thought she could hear a faint hint of laughter in her Master’s words. Master Giddy was enjoying this.
At least somebody was.
“Master, you pick the weirdest times to be amused.”
“And you have the weirdest ideas of what a good idea is and what it isn’t.”
“I thought it was a good idea at the time!” Renora growled, thrusting her lance into the leg of the nearest overgrown insect and whipping it around just in time to block a mammoth strike from the one behind her.
“Then you should take responsibility for the fact that it’s not,” Gidrea chuckled over the static.
“There’s a word I’ve never heard you use before.”
“What’s that?”
“Responsibility,” she grunted, snapping her lance in an overhead strike at the Mite closest to her and leaping over it. She grinned savagely in apparent triumph, only to land roughly on her left shoulder and roll head-over-boot-heals against an immense tree trunk.
“Ow,” she muttered, looking around frantically for her lance.
When she saw it, she immediately wished she hadn’t.
“Oh, kriff.”
It was about twenty feet away, which wasn’t too far to sprint, even with her cracked head and injured shoulder. But it wasn’t laying in the wispy grass of the artificially maintained bestiary environment. It was resting in the jaws of a Giant Tanc Mite.
“Feeling responsible?”
“Are you kidding? Master, you taught me better than that.”
“I also taught you how to hold your weapon properly.”
Renora glanced down at her comlink in shock, then rebuked herself for being taken by surprise. For all her…eccentricities…Master Lightsky was wiser and more skilled than she let on. At least, Renora had to try and believe that as much as possible. After all, the pair had managed to stay alive all these years within the vortex of turmoil that was the Empire for some reason.
Renora had to believe it was something other than just dumb luck.
“I was holding it properly, Master,” she replied, tensing the muscles in her thighs and centering herself in the Force. “That is, until I wasn’t holding it anymore.”
“Holding it means keeping it, too, you know.”
“So I’ve heard,” Renora grunted, leaping for the tree branch directly above her head and hauling herself up onto the limb. The Mite who had captured her lance reared its head back shook it fiercely. Renora leaned forward on the tree branch and closed her eyes against her mounting fear, opening herself to the multifaceted tendrils of the Force.
She landed a bit awkwardly on a branch about ten feet away, wrenching her injured left shoulder sharply. With growing dismay worming its way through her chest, she felt the joint wrench from its socket. Clutching the bough for dear life, Renora threw her head back and screamed until her lungs ached. An icy fire seemed to weave its way up and down her arm, and her hand slipped off of the limb. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Renora used her good arm to pull herself into a crouching position on the branch.
“Kriff, kriff, kriff,” she mumbled as a thin bead of sweat began to roam down her forehead and into her eyes.
“Shoulder?” asked Giddy.
“No, just my head,” Renora said through clenched teeth. “It hurts from having too many good ideas.”
“I warned you about that…”
“I was too busy thinking to hear you.”
“I warned you about that, too.”
“Should I find it odd that you’re able to keep track of me with such efficiency from halfway across the galaxy?”
“You’d rather I didn’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“And I didn’t say that I was keeping track of you.”
Renora sighed in resignation. To her knowledge, there was only one person in this sentient galaxy who could manage to out-talk her. Not that Renora would ever admit it. At least she had been able to keep her mind off of the pain radiating from her shoulder long enough to regain some of her composure.
Hopefully, it was enough to keep her alive for a little while longer.
The sickening squeals and coarse, vile cackling emitted by the gnashing talons of those massive fiends filled the room with terrifying echoes. Their dark, multifaceted eyes, glinting with tints of red and blue and green, reflected the horror in her own. Struggling against the pounding of her rebellious heart, she breathed deeply through her nose and tried to reach out to the Force. With the stench of these vile creatures filling her nostrils and making it impossible to concentrate, this wasn’t the easiest thing to do.
But since when was anything easy?
“Master?” she gasped, feinting at the nearest Tanc Mite with her long lance.
“Yes?”
Renora Ta’a rolled her eyes at the almost lazy response. It was apparent that her Master wasn’t taking the situation as seriously as she should be. As usual.
“Master, I’m not so sure--argh!” Amidst a shrieking cry, one of the beasts directly to her left raised his massive, sharply-haired leg, and brought it down with the full strength of his large body. Renora blocked the blow with her lance and batted its leg aside, pulling the weapon back and forcing it into the creature’s body with a nauseating crunch.
“Master, I don’t think this is such a good idea!” she hissed into her wrist comlink.
“It was your idea, Padawan,” Gidrea replied, her voice muffled by static. To her annoyance, Renora thought she could hear a faint hint of laughter in her Master’s words. Master Giddy was enjoying this.
At least somebody was.
“Master, you pick the weirdest times to be amused.”
“And you have the weirdest ideas of what a good idea is and what it isn’t.”
“I thought it was a good idea at the time!” Renora growled, thrusting her lance into the leg of the nearest overgrown insect and whipping it around just in time to block a mammoth strike from the one behind her.
“Then you should take responsibility for the fact that it’s not,” Gidrea chuckled over the static.
“There’s a word I’ve never heard you use before.”
“What’s that?”
“Responsibility,” she grunted, snapping her lance in an overhead strike at the Mite closest to her and leaping over it. She grinned savagely in apparent triumph, only to land roughly on her left shoulder and roll head-over-boot-heals against an immense tree trunk.
“Ow,” she muttered, looking around frantically for her lance.
When she saw it, she immediately wished she hadn’t.
“Oh, kriff.”
It was about twenty feet away, which wasn’t too far to sprint, even with her cracked head and injured shoulder. But it wasn’t laying in the wispy grass of the artificially maintained bestiary environment. It was resting in the jaws of a Giant Tanc Mite.
“Feeling responsible?”
“Are you kidding? Master, you taught me better than that.”
“I also taught you how to hold your weapon properly.”
Renora glanced down at her comlink in shock, then rebuked herself for being taken by surprise. For all her…eccentricities…Master Lightsky was wiser and more skilled than she let on. At least, Renora had to try and believe that as much as possible. After all, the pair had managed to stay alive all these years within the vortex of turmoil that was the Empire for some reason.
Renora had to believe it was something other than just dumb luck.
“I was holding it properly, Master,” she replied, tensing the muscles in her thighs and centering herself in the Force. “That is, until I wasn’t holding it anymore.”
“Holding it means keeping it, too, you know.”
“So I’ve heard,” Renora grunted, leaping for the tree branch directly above her head and hauling herself up onto the limb. The Mite who had captured her lance reared its head back shook it fiercely. Renora leaned forward on the tree branch and closed her eyes against her mounting fear, opening herself to the multifaceted tendrils of the Force.
She landed a bit awkwardly on a branch about ten feet away, wrenching her injured left shoulder sharply. With growing dismay worming its way through her chest, she felt the joint wrench from its socket. Clutching the bough for dear life, Renora threw her head back and screamed until her lungs ached. An icy fire seemed to weave its way up and down her arm, and her hand slipped off of the limb. Gritting her teeth against the pain, Renora used her good arm to pull herself into a crouching position on the branch.
“Kriff, kriff, kriff,” she mumbled as a thin bead of sweat began to roam down her forehead and into her eyes.
“Shoulder?” asked Giddy.
“No, just my head,” Renora said through clenched teeth. “It hurts from having too many good ideas.”
“I warned you about that…”
“I was too busy thinking to hear you.”
“I warned you about that, too.”
“Should I find it odd that you’re able to keep track of me with such efficiency from halfway across the galaxy?”
“You’d rather I didn’t?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“And I didn’t say that I was keeping track of you.”
Renora sighed in resignation. To her knowledge, there was only one person in this sentient galaxy who could manage to out-talk her. Not that Renora would ever admit it. At least she had been able to keep her mind off of the pain radiating from her shoulder long enough to regain some of her composure.
Hopefully, it was enough to keep her alive for a little while longer.
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