Zee
SWRP Writer
- Joined
- May 21, 2015
- Messages
- 78
- Reaction score
- 9
Dear Grandmaster Novan,
Do you know how to cut off someone from the Force? I asked other Jedi, but they tended to answer in low whispers about the Darkside, which was a bit of an apples-and-oranges situation. I don’t understand what that has to do with anything.
I don’t understand many things. In the Old Order, I’d have been a ‘wash-out’ – someone delegated to a low-key place such as the AgriCorps. My ‘powers’ can only accomplish very, very small things. You have to admit that, statistically, there will always be people too weak in the Force to reach the Knight status. The problem with such people is that there is a boring war going on, and many wish to use them as weapons.
I’ve been told to train more. But of what use would it be to me to spend years of my life learning how to levitate a rock, when I can already balance the universe on the edges of my graphs? I am a mathematician, and a bit of a botanist. I take pride in what I’m doing. I wish that I could do it in a safer environment. I’m not made for danger. I can’t even remember the ‘in case of general alarm’ instructions. Or the location of the canteen, for that matter.
That’s why I asked you if you know how to take away someone’s Force powers.
As a proper Jedi, you probably find this very selfish. To tell the truth, I never understood why everyone cares about this galaxy so much. Either to conquer, or protect it…It’s a laughably big place, this galaxy. And I can find enough maths to entertain me in a handful of sand.
I imagine that you are very busy. Therefore, I cheated by attaching this orange to my letter, in hopes that it will humor you enough to read my words. I am not sure whether it counts as bribery. The fragrant peel is genetically citron; the inside, however, is orange. It’s a rare ‘graft chimera’ – not a hybrid, but the mixture of cells from two separate species. Not even the Kaminoans would be able to replicate it exactly the same.
Kind regards,
Zee Irving
On the back of the page it was written ‘To Larik Novan’.
The aforementioned letter was crumpled around a strangely-colored orange tucked right in front of a door mysteriously labeled ‘Office 327’ on the upper deck of the Indomitable-Class Frigate ‘Galactic Evolution’. Known (to few) as the Jedi mobile base, the place wasn’t so much of a starship as a city on wings. Thousands of Jedi, mostly padawans, and perhaps just as many members of the now obsolete Galactic Alliance lived, trained and worked under its roofs. Many had lost their families in the war. Others had formed new families, and it was not that unusual to see snotty barefoot brats chasing each other along the corridors. They had their own childhood-jargon and didn’t know what a sky was.
Yet, among the older generation, the ship wasn’t as much of a melting pot as a mosaic of cultures. You saw it everywhere. Walk through the cramped cubicles of the programmers, and you’d be greeted by a Kaleesh traditional mask, a False Firethorn tree, a cheap snowglobe of the Coruscant Jedi temple, a living gecko, a postcard from Naboo. In this Babel, even someone as strange as Zee Irving could find a place.
She’d come because of the money. She didn’t have any. Gar’phil was not feeling well. The old Givin that had been Zee’s mentor and math teacher for the last several years had gone back to Yag’Dhul for a medical check-up. Cursed with the stigmata of Force-sensitivity, Zee found it safer to cling to the Jedi Order. For now. Her father, the Lord of the Ruins, had kindly suggested that she could join him instead on his archaeological excavations. No Sith would like to visit those remote places for a mere hunch. But Zee was too proud to consider subjecting ‘that person’ to the smallest risk, not when she knew that she didn’t care about him as much as he cared about her.
So she was here. At the very least, it was a place where her burning interest in plant biology finally found a fitting challenge. The starship wasn’t fully self-sufficient – it could never be. Unlike an Ithorian herdship, it hadn’t been built with ecosystems in mind. But the fibrous mushrooms glowing on shelves in endless dim rooms made delicious steaks and angel-hair desserts. Salads growing in air and nutrient spray were as tasty as if they’d just been picked from the field. It amazed Zee how much there was to know about something so basic.
She was fond of the laboratory area. The entry card data could testify on the girl’s reticence to walk outside it. She showered in the Emergency Shower Room for Chemical Spills and slept in a sleeping bag in a corner of a rarely-used lab room. With most of the technicians being Force-unaware, and with Zee’s unconscious Force powers pulling some strings here and there, she was rarely noticed. When she was noticed there outside of ‘working hours’, she was promptly kicked outside and inevitably got lost.
Right now, she was glancing down a microscope at a culture of dividing plant cells. A cool breeze blew from the sterile cabinet containing the machine, ensuring that no germs would drift in and contaminate her work. She thought of Gar’phil, and then of the mysterious Novan who may or may not be on the ship, or use that office. She thought of her grandparents and home. But it was nicer to think of plants. Curled-up in her labcoat, with her soles resting on the laboratory stool and her arms wrapped around her knees, she stared and smiled.
OOC: The aforementioned strange orange inspired from this.
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