Challenging a Trandoshan

Toba, the wiley Gungan from Otoh Gunga, ducked unto Galak’s swing as he dove backwards with his padded Cesta to strike back at the tall, dark man. As he slashed back at him, Galak dove out of the way and brought his staff up to plant it under Toba’s jaw. The Gungan let out a cry and fell on his back as disappointment sunk in.

“How’sa you gettin’ so good at’a dat’a ting,” he said to Galak as the security officer lifted him to his feet.

“I told you before, Toba,” he stated, “I’ve been trained in both melee and ranged attacks. You have to be trained well in both if you’re to make a good officer.”

Toba let out an exasperated sigh. “Me’sa trainin’ wit me’sa Cesta for whole life. Me’sa neber gettin’ dat good.”

“For your whole life?” questioned Dane who was sitting nearby and watching the duel.

“Otay,” said Toba. “Mabye not’n me’sa whole life. Just most.”

Dane’s eyebrow lifted sharply to show her skepticism, and Toba grunted. “Fine,” he admitted. “Only maybe two or tree yars.”

“That sounds more like it,” she stated with a knowing grin.

Just then, the training area’s main entrance opened and Tarrsk, the Trandoshan warrior that they had gotten to know a little in the last few days came striding in. He was clearly angry, and it was obvious that he needed some attention. Dane jumped off the crate of weapons and instantly went to greet him. Her smaller, delicate form made her seem childlike, though her hardened facial expression led one to believe that she was much more experienced than she looked.

“Hey, Tarrsk,” she said as she came to stand in front of him.

Tarrsk looked down at the chest-high fourteen year old with a snarl. “What do you want?”

She didn’t budge even under his menacing size and appearance. “I was just wanting to see if you wanted to have a practice duel with me,” she stated as she fluffed her pony-tail. “Unless, that is, you are afraid you’d be beaten by a girl.”

Tarrsk’s snarl deepended as he stared into her crystal blue eyes. “I’ve always heard that red-headed humans are fiery tempered,” he stated. “I wonder if that holds true to orange-headed ones.”

“My hair is a lighter red,” she stated matter-of-factly. “It isn’t orange.”

“Whatever you say,” snorted Tarrsk.

Dane shook her head. “So you are scared, aren’t you?” she prodded.

“I’m not afraid of you,” said Tarrsk. “I’m just afraid I might snap you in two.”

Dane gave a sharp laugh. “Yeah. You’d like to think you could.”

Tarrsk growled. “It’s your funeral.”

“Fine,” she laughed. “Then let’s get to it.”

Tarrsk followed Dane to the ring, and as he passed Galak, the black man smiled and whispered, “Just don’t call her Carrot-top,” he advised, and Tarrsk’s snarl turned into a grin.

“I’ll remember that,” he said, and he stepped into the ring to take one of the padded training staffs. “I hope you’ve got insurance,” he told her loudly as he brandished his staff.

Behind him, Toba turned to Galak with a smile. “Who’sa you tinkin’ is gonna win?”

Galak chuckled. “Is there any doubt?”

Toba shrugged. “Me’sa not’n knowin’. Dane good, but Big’n’nasty lookin’ good too.”

Galak put his arm around the Gungan. “Just watch Dane in action. I bet she could wrestle a Krayte Dragon with her bare hands.” Toba stared at him with an odd look on his face. Galak, seeing that the Gungan didn’t know what that creature was only laughed and shook his head as he watched the duel.


The End

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