A Girl Named James - 9.140

[Ledo G. Prent]

Well my daddy left Nar Shaddaa when I was three
And he didn't leave much to ma and me
Just a few old flimsies in some beat up picture frames.
Now, I don't blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me "James."

Well, he must o' thought that is quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a' lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some guy would giggle and I'd get red
And some girl'd laugh and I'd use the force instead,
I tell ya, life ain't easy for a girl named "James."

Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My feet got burned and my wits got keen,
I'd roam from planet to planet to hide my shame.
But I made a vow to the moons and stars
That I'd search the pirate hangouts and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful name.

Well, it was there on Dac in mid-July
And I just touched down and my throat was dry,
I thought I'd stop to drown my vagabond shames.
At a sabacc shack in the driving rain,
There at a table, dealing the game,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me "James."

Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From the worn-out flimsi that my mother'd had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: "My name is 'James!' You gave me this name!
Now you're gonna die!!"

I force pushed him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a' gouging in the rain and the blood and the beer.

I tell ya, I've fought tougher men
But I really can't remember when,
He kicked like a tauntaun and he bit like a rhyxodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled Byl's first,
He stood there lookin' at me and I saw him smile.

And he said: "Hon, this galaxy's rough
And if a girl's gonna make it, she's gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn't be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you'd have to get tough or die
And it's the name that helped to make you strong."

He said: "Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and that's fine if that's your aim.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I'm the son-of-a-bitch that named you "James.'"

I got all choked up and I gave my pistol a hurl
And I called him my pa, and he called me his girl,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a daughter, I think I'm gonna name her
Bonny or Jenny! Anything damn thing but James! I still hate that name!



Big guddam hero.

And still no one buys you a drink. Not even from the well or what's on discount. Nope. Outta your own coin it goes. Saving the galaxy from a soul-ripping nightmare should at least afford you a free handy, shouldn't it? Ledo glanced down the bar, and the only female company in this two-bit watering hole giving him moon eyes was a Mon Cal. Sorry love. Not that a little fishy smell ever stopped ol' Ledo, but that was probably pushing it.

"Oi, barkeep. Gimme err...uhh...wossat?"

The Sullustan manning the bar followed the wavering finger to a dusty bottle with no label. He held the bottle up, and blew on it to clear the dust. Still nothing to denote its identity.

"It is..."

With effort, the stocky alien plied off the cork, taking a sniff. Still with no clue what to make of it, he pulled a glass and poured a finger's worth into a tumbler. The liquid came out a pale green color.

"...green."

Ledo Prent gave a bit of a shrug.

"Dabba th' green, den."

[James Prent]

James was wandering Dac again. Byl was between missions but was in a briefing or something, and she walked into the seediest looking dive bar she could find. For old times sake. In fact, it sort of smelled like the diner she used to work at on Nar Shaddaa.

She stepped up to the bar, hoisting her five foot frame onto a stool, and ordered a drink of... whatever the hells that stuff was. While she waited for it to be poured, she looked down the bar at the other occupants. And did a double take. James felt her heart seize up in her chest and then start thumping like there was a gundark jumping out at her, and she practically fell off the barstool in her hurry to get away. The dive wasn't empty, but it wasn't exactly full, so she found a table by the wall and hunkered down, her hand covering her face.

That's stupid, Prent, he's got no clue who y' are. She looked up, and the bartender plunked her drink on the table in front of her, irritated that he'd had to track her down and deliver it. "Uh, thanks. Here," she handed him a credit chit without looking at it. "Keep th' change." He looked at it, and then grinned, but her mind was on other things.

James grabbed her commlink and speed dialed her only contact. "Byl," she hissed, ridiculously because no one was paying any attention to her, "What do I do? Oh my gods, he's here Byl."

[Byl Laprovik]

Thalassia

"Easy does it, you."

Byl wrangled up the slaver he'd been tracking, frog-marching him into a pre-determined Alliance safe house, away from the slavers quarters. Kicking in the door, he herded the bound man into a force cage, kicking him inside once the door was opened. The slaver looked ready for a line of backtalk, but Byl was already prepared with a blaster aimed at his forehead just beyond the bars. The Rebel Operative closed the cage, and his comm went off. Frowning, he pulled the device free from a discrete pocket in his jacket, and noticed the incoming frequency. James.

"Excuse me. I have to take a call."

Byl offered a tight smile to the bruised and bleeding prisoner, and stepped away into another room before opening a channel.

"James, slow down. Who's there? Where are the exits? We've done the drills before."

In his head, the agent was calculating travel time back into Alliance space and to Dac. He needed to know what kind of danger she was in.

[James Prent]

She took a deep breath, and expelled it slowly. "Krasst, I'm sorry Byl, I'm not in danger. It's jus' - Ledo." James ducked behind a grimy menu as the older man at the bar sat back and looked around the room.

"He's on Dac f' some reason. In a bar. In this bar." She paused. "Should I - ohmygods he's coming this way."

[Byl Laprovik]

"What, your dad?"

She'd told Byl the tale, what little there was to tell, anyway. Rolling stone type, didn't stick around much at all before pulling up stakes. Still, not exactly the kind of emergency he had in mind when he'd told her to call me if there's an emergency.

"Buy him a drink, catch up on old times. I don't know what to say. James? James?"

The line clicked dead.

[Ledo G. Prent]

Purchasing the bottle outright, Ledo swaggered triumphantly to the only sweet-looking face in the establishment.

"Allo dere, swee'tie, woss y' havin'? Wossa pretty fing lok you doin' inna shi' 'ole lok dis?"

The old pirate smacked the bottle down on her table, and a pair of glasses.

[James Prent]

She froze like an etelo in headlights as her father clunked a bottle on her table, and before she could say no or yes, he was helping himself to a chair. "Uh, I was... this is beer," James ended lamely, clutching her pint glass protectively.

He's hittin' on me oh what th' fuck - her inner thoughts spiraled off in a sort of mental shriek, and she awkwardly smiled at him, more of a grimace, really.

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Oh tha'?"

Ledo made a face.

"Y' drink tha' t' mark th' time, dove. Now dis..."

He poured up two helpings of mystery green.

"...dissen whacha mot call fer awe-spi-shuss o-ccasions, sheila. Yerrin th' comp'ny of dis-tinguished sort!"

The dawn of recollection sure seemed to be there on her face, but Ledo frowned as she seemed to be nearly terrified.

"Easy now, ee-see! Chiva'rous guddam hero, is me sort!"

[James Prent]

"A ...hero?" James raised her eyebrows, and then stared down at the green liquid he pushed in front of her. She grabbed it and drank it down, setting the empty glass on the table to Ledo's delight.

"I know who you are," she started, but then couldn't figure out how to continue. You're m' dad, you wanker!

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Me reppy-tation pro-ceeds!"

Ledo brightened at her recollection, downing his drink with gusto, and finishing by wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Den y'know allabou' th' frillin' exploits of th' good ship Nov'grod an 'er Immor'tals, an 'ow yours truly 'elped save th' whole guddam galaxy from big-arsed lizzies!"

[James Prent]

"I did actually," she said, managing to arrange her braincells in some sort of order with the help of the alcohol. "I didn't know you were a part o' that, to be honest.

"Wait a minute." James reached into her small holdall and pulled out a battered flimsi with a holo imprinted on it. She slid it across the table toward him. "I think this is you, right?"

[Ledo G. Prent]

The jovial expression on Ledo's face slowly began to deflate as the haggard pirate took a look at the holo. It wasn't great quality, but he certainly knew where this picture had been taken, and who he'd given it to. He couldn't stay, he'd told her. It was the truth, but never an easy truth. He looked at the woman who gave him the picture. She bore an uncanny resemblance to a certain buxom brunette he fancied all those years ago on Nar Shaddaa.

"Gerrae!?"

He almost had slap himself. He blinked hard, and looked at her again, then back to the holo.

"James!"

[James Prent]

Her face twitched, and against all odds she found herself smiling. "You know m'name?" Then she frowned, steeling her face despite her suddenly unsure emotions. "An' you're Ledo, m'sperm donor. Did you ever even think about checkin' in on me after m'mom died?"

[Ledo G. Prent]

"Yer mum..."

Ledo's glass slipped from his grasp an inch from the table, clattering loudly on the surface. He took a strangely wistful look.

"...'ow'd it 'appen?"

[James Prent]

"Childbirth, they told me." She shrugged. "I dunno really. Records are sketchy."

James studied his worn face, searching for clues. For anything, really. Sanis had his nose, without a doubt. She narrowed her eyes at that uncomfortable memory. "I can't believe I'm actually talkin' t' you. I didn't even know your name f' the longest time."

[Ledo G. Prent]

At the mention of dying in childbirth, Ledo hung his head. He'd thought he'd been doing her a favor.

"Oh Delia, Ah'm so, so, sorry."

The old pirate righted himself just enough to tipple back a drink in her memory.

"Good lass, yer mum. Weren't one t' quession me comin's n' goin's. She knew Ah wos wikkid bent, an' a real arse. Lov'd me d' same."

[James Prent]

James just shook her head, draining her beer. After a minute she grabbed the bottle of green and filled her glass with a generous portion. "Yeah, well, if y'had any idea what th' foster care system is like on Nar Shaddaa you'd be wonderin' why I didn't jus' shoot ya on sight."

She tipped back the alcohol, grimacing as it burned her throat.

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo nodded at her well-placed anger.

"An' yeh'd 'ave th' right, Jamesy. Ah'm a shite sorra dad. Ah figga'd Ah'd be doin you an' Delia a fava, not havin' me sordid nature aroun' assa disruptif influence."

I'm sorry seemed so trite and cheap, that the best thing Ledo could do was to fill his daughter's glass again.

"Were Ah t' 'ave it ova t' do again..."

He shut himself up by taking a drink.

"Tell me abou' yessef."

[James Prent]

The alcohol was doing it's work, and James' small frame wasn't likely to be able to stand much more. A glass of wine in the evening was the extent of her drinking these days. "My life has sucked," she hiccuped, "Bu' I have a nice guy in m' life, an' I'ma not gon' talk about th' rest 'cause it makes m' sad.

"Whatta 'bout you, mebbe y' can tell me 'bout Sanis." James tipped back the glass again.

[Ledo G. Prent]

A second surprise. Of course, maybe that was how the galaxy sussed out a lifetime of indiscretions - with a sense of humor.

"Y' knowabou' him eh?"

Ledo laughed at the chances of it all, glancing down as he took another drink.

"Anudda sprogga mine, coupla years 'fore Ah went sweet on Delia. Nar Shaddaa froo an' froo, jus' lok yeh. Bitta ob-vee-ous Ah di'n't stick aroun' dere eitha, Ah s'ppose."

Curiosity striking him, Ledo's eyes sharpened as he leaned forward slightly.

"'Ow'd yeh come abou' meetin' yeh bru by anudda ma?"

[James Prent]

She grimaced. "It'sa long story. We - oh, ne'er mind." Her glass was empty, and she set it down unsteadily. "Let's jus' say th' ol' apple don't fall too far fromma tree."

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo wasn't sure how to take that, other than to assume that his son was also a proper guddam hero. Either way, he'd been gone too long to be relegated to short summaries.

"C'mon now, no abridg'd edition Jamesy. Ah been outta sorts ferra guddam minit, an Ah'd like t' hear 'ow me sprogs came t' meet an 'ow they're gettin along."

[James Prent]

She flushed bright red, and shook her head. "We met by accident, an' I haven't seen 'im inna couple years. He saved m'life, but then jus' left. Emotional connections are jus' too hard, I guess. See we didn't know - he found tha' picture on me after... an' then we knew." James stared hard at her glass as if the alcohol would regenerate into the glass.

[Ledo G. Prent]

She was supplied again with another tipple, and then the old pirate took care of his own.

"Muss be a vagabon' sorra gene in dese Prents."

It had all the phrasing of a joke, but Ledo wasn't cracking wise. He tilted his glass back and forth a little on the table.

"Roam da galac-tic highway an byway, shakin' obliga'ions offya boots."

Remorse was an unusual burden to carry. Or maybe you only noticed it when you were old.

"A lon'ly life."

[James Prent]

James picked up her glass, considered how light her arms and legs were feeling, and carefully sat it back down without drinking it. "Obligations. A good word fr'it. I's always jus' an obligation t'him. Thought he had me taken care of an' just lef' me behind. Never mind he'd taken me from th' only home I knew and dragged me across th' galaxy, then lef' me with strangers." She looked up, a slightly wild look in her brown eyes. "Prolly didn't want to be reminded o' how -" She abruptly shut her mouth, her teeth clicking together, her brain catching up with what her mouth was about to say.

"Never mind." She blushed again, anger overwhelmed by embarrassment. "You're a hero, huh?"

[Ledo G. Prent]

Ledo had caught a glimpse. The patois slipped, and she'd fallen into her roots. The dirt didn't wash. Nar Shaddaa did that. He'd seen every step of the process except when it happened to him. He was the eye of the hurricane. He was the calm. Except maybe that wasn't true. Maybe he'd inherited the disease from some vagabond himself, and simply spread the seed down the line. James was cognizant of her self destruction. Ledo was just waking up to his own. And as she swallowed down a memory that burned red on her cheeks, the old pirate was again faced with his own delusion.

"'S wot dey say." he replied, less cocksure and boastful than his initial telling of the tale. He stared into the green liquor in his tumbler.

"Fuck'n funny innit. Ah goes an' 'as one fine adventcha, rife wif bloddy exploit an de good guys win. An' Ah fink Ah can smoov ovah everyting wif one decent ting t' 'ang me hat on."

With that, Ledo swallowed down his bitter drink, grimacing as he gripped the empty glass.

"Ah wuddn't fit t'be yeh dad. But no' bein' dat man Ah fink was worse. All Ah gots is stories, an' Ah missed de plot. Ah coulda been a 'ero whennit mat'tered."

[James Prent]

"Every dad issa hero to 'is kids," James said softly. "It's only when they grow up that th'realize what kinda man he really is."

Her mouth twisted. "I guess we'll never know if I'da been better off wit you inna m'life."

[Ledo G. Prent]

He was utterly at a loss. Joy and pain. Yearning and guilt. Ledo set his glass aside, his aged hands sliding on the table toward her. He couldn't slide them past halfway. Was it all too little, too late? Didn't late matter for anything? Seeing his daughter grown brought feelings to the surface he'd never taken the time to confront in life. His grizzled eyes looked at her hands.

"Whadda we do now?"

[James Prent]

James looked at him looking at her hands, and after a moment she drew hers back, folding them in her lap. "There's nothin' to do. We go our separate ways."

She hesitated, then met his eyes. Her face was angry, and confused at the same time. "Should be a relief. I don't want nothin' from ya."

[Ledo G. Prent]

It wasn't a relief at all. He didn't have much to give, but for once in his life, he felt like he should. Ledo slowly drew his hands back. He couldn't make this happen.

"Well, Ah'm glad a' least y' got yeh mum's eyes, Jamesy."

At the very least he could pay both his tab and hers, and he authorized a chit and lay it on the table. He rose to stand, legs feeling heavy.

"G'bye, kiddo."

Hopefully not for the last. Ledo slowly walked away.

[James Prent]

She just sat there, hands clenched in her lap, as he made his way to the door. His shoulders tightened, and then slumped as he reached the doorway - a hesitation before he stepped over the threshold and was swept away by the foot traffic outside.

James stared at the credit chit he'd left behind. Part of her wanted to grab it and flush it down the nearest toilet, but she didn't move. After a moment she reached out and took the tumbler he'd been drinking out of, holding it between her hands and looking at it with unfocused eyes.