Renora was almost repressively tempted to ask, “The Duchess Satine Kryze?” But she knew that such an inane uttering would be an utter disrespect to every kilo of self-discipline her Master had taught her. Not to mention it would make her look stupid. So she didn’t say it. She just thought it. Repressively.
“Thank you, Duchess,” said Renora, standing and bowing slightly. Before the last juicy little piece of snippiness could fade from memory and from the tips of her vocal cords, Renora became intensely tempted to add, “Do you come here often?” It seemed as if it would be in bad taste, but that’s not why Renora didn’t vocalize her quip; the word “taste” was less than irrelevant to her. She just didn’t feel comfortable about snarking off at the deceased.
That’s when she finally decided what she was going to say. Just as the quiet whisper of the mind nearly translated itself into a vibrant utterance of the lips, Renora began to doubt that this was the right thing to say, too. At that point, she didn’t really care, so she went ahead and said it.
“Aren’t you dead?”
The Duchess laughed, short and bitter. “To most, yes. To some, not quite. To others, most certainly. To myself, only on weekdays.”
Renora decided she wasn’t half-bad, for a dead person.
“What’s the consensus, then?” asked Renora.
“Somewhere at a halfway point between dead and alive.”
“It sounds more exciting than either of the alternatives.”
“I’d rather have peace than excitement, but, yes, there are moments.”
“Do you have any details on those terrorists we’re supposed to track down?” Giddy interjected. Renora narrowed her eyes, trying to probe her Master’s consciousness without letting on that she was doing it. She detected something that her Master was hiding -- was that the right word? -- faint and muffled by the layers of the past, but she wasn’t quite certain what it was. Quickly pulling back before she could be discovered, Renora dispassionately took a sip from her cup of water to try and cover any traces of her investigation through the Force.
“Not much. I only hope it’s enough. As you know, since the creation of the Empire, Mandalore has been fragmented between peaceful bipartisan leaders, and the warlords who wish to return to our old ways.”
“Wasn’t it always like that?” asked Renora.
Satine nodded. “Your Padawan is well-read, Gidrea. Yes, it has been like that for a very long time. Before you were born, as a matter of fact.”
“Rub it in, why don’t you,” said Renora, before she could stop herself. “Duchess Satine,” she added respectfully, her face enveloped in a bright red blush.
Giddy laughed, looking as if she enjoyed watching her Padawan squirm. “Watch that mouth of yours, Padawan,” she said gently, still grinning.
“Sorry, Master,” Renora mumbled.
“What I need you two to do,” Satine said smoothly, as if the short interlude had not occurred, “is track down the mercenaries our current regime is using to terrorize the populace into voting for this new military conscription bill.”
“A conscription bill?” asked Giddy.
“Yes, with many a provision that will legalize a lot of the traditional Mandalorian practices that we’ve tried so hard to get rid of, that are destroying our society, that almost destroyed us in the past.”
“That ‘we’ve’ tried so hard to get rid of?” asked Renora. “What’s with the pronoun, Duchess? A royal ‘we?’”
“My Padawan has a thing for grammar,” chuckled Giddy.
“Nevertheless, there is a ‘we,’ and I’m not using the pronoun for any reason having to do with decorum. No, there’s a group of us, former writers, activists, journalists, and politicians, who’ve been around since the Clone Wars and who saw this coming.”
“You’ve been fighting for the same peace for the last twenty-five years,” said Renora.
“Longer. I don’t expect it to come overnight, but it will come. I know it.”
“You knew Master Kenobi!” said Renora, a sudden realization hitting her like a fly in the fan on a hot day. Then she shut her mouth, tightly. She blushed, brightly. And she cursed, lightly. “Uh, during the Clone Wars, perhaps?” she inserted, feeling very, very stupid. “Ne…negotiations?”
“Don’t you know, Padawan? She’s the Duchess Satine,” said Giddy, her expression a mixture of wry amusement and admonishment.
“Right, I know that, Master.”
“You’re right, Renora,” said Satine. “Master Kenobi and I were good friends during the Clone Wars.”
“You were?” pressed Renora, in spite of herself.
“Yes, we were.”
“Was that before he met you, Master Giddy?” asked Renora, raising her eyebrows and flashing her Master a sticky smile.
“Master Kenobi made many acquaintances when he was alive,” said Giddy, her eyes glinting with something approaching a warning.
“He was a great Jedi. So great, perhaps, that I don’t think even death can stop him from touching the hearts of those he loves.” Renora was nearly busting, but she struggled to maintain her composure.
“Do you find that amusing, my young apprentice?”
“No, Master. Do you?”
“No, Padawan. Do you, Satine?”
“No, Giddy. Should I?” she asked, her thin lips twisted in a rare moment of humor.
“I don’t think so.”
“Maybe we should ask your Padawan--”
“That’s all right, Satine,” Giddy said quickly.
There was an awkward moment of silent stillness, in the large room and through the echoes of the Force.
“So,” said Renora, almost as smoothly as a trained politician, “he visits you, too, does he?”
“He did, once,” Satine sighed. “Just to tell me he was all right, but he couldn’t see me anymore.”
It was subdued by their extreme shows of self-discipline, muted through the transitory tendrils of the Force, but something, almost painfully deep, but fleeting in nature, passed between Satine and Renora’s Master. A little more than a gesture, a little less than a sigh, Renora barely noticed it, and decided she wouldn’t acknowledge its presence. But she couldn’t forget its existence. Master Kenobi had touched more lives than he cared to admit in his brief conversations with Giddy’s Padawan. And he had touched them in more than one way. Renora almost smiled at this pun, but, once again, she didn’t want to look stupid.
“The terrorists,” she said softly, “if we hit them from the top, as we’re undoubtedly planning to do, won’t the government know that there’s an opposition group?”
“Oh, I’ve no doubt that they already know that,” said Satine.
“But our job will be to make sure they can’t connect anything we do to Satine’s group.”
Renora nodded. “And how will we know if we’ve succeeded?”
“The bill doesn’t passed, lives are saved, and the mercenary group toppled,” sighed Satine.
“And live Jedi,” said Giddy.
“The only kind I like,” smirked Renora.
