Part 2 - Kashyyyk ~ Chapter 1: Non-Fiction

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.”

Troublemakers