The Rainbow Connection (Lyydea)

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Have you been half asleep?
And have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name
Is this the sweet sound
That called the young sailors?
The voice might be one in the same

I've heard it too many times to ignore it
It's something that I'm supposed to be





Outside the light frigate Aranar, space slid by in colorful swirls while her inhabitants slept. While most of them slept, anyway. The bridge was manned by Jeng, overseeing second shift duties, and his fellow Mando'ade who were keeping the night oil burning for the rest of the crew. The crew meaning everyone who was on board - most were Mandalorians from Onderon, though there were a few newer faces among them. Lyydea Amarra was one of those faces, and she was among those who were sleeping.

Lilaena De'Ville walked the main passageway in the living quarters. There were just a handful of matching cabins, one bunk room, and one of the cargo areas had been retrofitted into another dorm-like room. Since they had met back up with Bretak and the Haran, the crush of having nearly eighty beings on board one ship (capital or no, it was still on the small side) had been eased. Still, five thousand people spread over seven ships of various sizes was not a comfortable fit. A more permanent solution was being sought.

Returning to Onderon was not an option. A'na had made sure of that - burning bridges behind Lilaena had nearly been an art form with the woman when she had been alive, let alone a vengeful spirit. The only way forward was...forward. And part of that momentum had gathered up some of the flotsam of the galaxy, those who were forgotten, or misused. Rescuing Force users from the clutches of their abusers was something Lilaena felt very strongly about. Lyydea was grateful for her freedom, but she didn't seem to know what to do with it, and at times Lilaena wasn't sure the girl even knew what 'freedom' meant.

Her potential in the Force was reason enough not to simply drop her off on a neutral planet, but her naivete, coupled with nearly manic mood swings, made her as changeable as the wind. She was as dangerous to herself as she was to those around her. No, Lyydea needed more help than simply being rescued from a slavers market. She needed direction. She needed not to be controlled, but to learn how to control herself.

It was nearly breakfast time, and soon they would be coming out of hyperspace in the Dantooine system. Lilaena rapped lightly on Lyydea's door with her knuckles.

[Lyydea Amarra]

This dream, this dream, this dream! I hate this dream! It's so loud and unpleasant. Oh sure it starts fine, a smiling face, a happy breakfast. But then there's so much fire, so much pain, some woman screaming but it doesn't make me feel all happy and warm inside like it usually does. No, no, no. I hurt when she screams, and try to reach for the sound, and I never get there! FRUSTRATING! I'm lifted by arms, and carried away like a torrent from the noise, the world goes quiet and black. When color fills my eyes again it's a world I finally recognize, steel bars and iron chains. An owner's smiling face telling me what a good girl I am. I should be happy, I should be smiling. I smile big and wide, and inside I scream. I scream like she screamed because I can still feel the fire, I can still hear her sound, I can still taste the smoke, I...

Knock, Knock, Knock.

I'm pulled from my dream by a new sound and wake sharply. Eyes scanning, searching, no one here. No master holding me down, no arms pinning me. I hug my knees for a moment, swallowing to clear the taste of ash from my mouth that lingers. I hate that taste. I always hate that taste.

"C... coming!" I manage to squeak out in a sing-song, pleasant and warm and ever so sweet. I'm supposed to be that way, I was told to be that way. Yes! No pain, no fear, no fire, I bounce from my bed with a spring in my step and pull open the door to see who is there! Eyes widen in surprise.

"Mistress De'Ville?" I manage to choke. I do not know when she has called on me this late. Have I done something to make her angry, or does she want my company? Other owners - no no... not an owner, she insists - have wanted my company in the late hours before. I lower my eyes, and curtsey, grabbing at the hem of my nightgown. "How may I serve you?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She fought the urge to roll her eyes, or grab the girl and shake her out of her subservience. For all that Lyydea was willing to do to others weaker than herself, she seemed incapable of any sort of defense against those perceived as stronger. The Zeltron fought a yawn, and Lilaena forced a smile on her own face. "I thought we could have breakfast together. It ...it's a little early. If you would rather sleep..?"

She paused, waiting for Lyydea's answer. Would she acquiesce to her not-master, or stand up for her own needs - sleep, in this particular case.

[Lyydea Amarra]

I tilted my head to stare at Mistress De'Ville, curiouser and curiouser! Breakfast could be good, and would help to wake, wake, wake me up. Sleep would also be good, but could wait. If mistress wanted something it could wait. A pull ran through me, a chill in my back, that dream would be waiting for me if I went back to sleep. No, no, no. Food and obedience was a perfect combination for this morning.

My smile returned, brightened, shone! "Breakfast, yes, yes! Mistress has such wonderful ideas. May I be allowed to get dressed? If we are to eat, I should be appropriately dressed."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The emotions at play in the young woman were an interesting combination. Some fear, yes, but not directed at Lilaena, and quickly masked by artificial cheer. "Please, yes. Get dressed. I'll be waiting out here in the passage."

[Lyydea Amarra]

I gave another polite curtsey and spun on my heel, back inside my room I went, straight away to the simple closet the room provided and flung it open for the world to see! All my treasures contained within. A red dress, a blue dress, a yellow dress, A few ugly clothes that weren't dresses, but why, why, why would I ever wear those?!

I slipped out of my nightgown and pulled out my blue dress, then my yellow one.

"Blue dress... yellow dress... blue dress... yellow dress..." I debated with myself, holding up one then the other as I considered. "Blue dress!" I finally decided, a touch of nostalgia for the days that all I had was my old blue dress to wear worming through my skin like a prickly little caterpillar. Next came my shoes, black and shiny.

"Over, under, around and through, meet Mr. Bunny Rabbit, pull and through~"I hummed the words to myself as I finished lacing and kicked my feet to look at first the left shoe then the right. Then quick as Mr. Bunny Rabbit I hopped, back to the door and opened it wide to smile bright and happy at Mistress De'Ville.

"I'm ready!" I chimed pleasantly, giving a small curtsey and spin to show off how pretty my dress was.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Excellent," smiled Lilaena. They walked down the passage together, the Zeltron skipping every now and then to keep up, her blue skirts swishing in a way that brought a burst of pleasure from her. As they got closer to the galley they began passing people in the hall, all Mando'ade in various types of outfits. The modern jumpsuit was being slowly integrated into their native garb, which led to some interesting conglomerations of armor pieces, boma leather, and high tech fabrics.

"How do you like living here, Lyydea?" She looked sideways at the girl, and stopped to let her enter the galley first. It was too small to truly be a cafeteria, but there were a few tables and chairs bolted to the deck and a (currently empty) buffet table directly in front of the kitchen area.

[Lyydea Amarra]

I immediately looked where normally I found the food, hoping, hoping, hoping to find some delicious, sweet pancakes. Someone had made them a few days ago, and I'd wanted more ever since. So light and so good, pour the syrup on and gobble them down!

I'd make them myself, but one of Mistress's helmeted men told me I shouldn't play in the kitchen without someone around. Something about eggshells in their omelet. Whatever.

I looked back to Mistress as she asked me another question, I was paying attention! I really was. Mostly. Sort of. I wonder if she wants pancakes.

Question! She had asked me a question! How did I like living here? What a silly ting to ask, I liked being anywhere that she told me to be. Though, I knew that's not what she wanted me to say. So what did I feel about this place, outside of it being where my owner, master, mistress, or whatever title I should be using, was?

Well... no one here was mean to me, though I get much fewer hugs than I used to. The food was definitely much better, pancakes! Mmmm. I got my own room, with sheets and dresses I could choose from!

My smile almost broke my face, ear to ear and hap-hap-happy! "I like it very much! There are so many nice people, and so many fun things. Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

I fought back the urge to hug Mistress De'Ville, it wasn't proper, it wasn't my place.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"I am glad to hear it, Lyydea," she said. Pancakes. Why was she thinking about pancakes all of a sudden? Lilaena resisted the urge to rub the spot between her eyebrows. Ever since the... incident with A'na's spirit, she had been picking up on stray thoughts. She had even begun to be able to impress her own words into the minds of others. It was a startling, intoxicating feeling, one she simultaneously wanted more and less of. Asking another for help with the new abilities hadn't been an option, so she was learning the best she could.

"Do you want...pancakes?"

[Lyydea Amarra]

The corners of my face pulled tighter, my smile beamed at Mistress even wider. She was sooooo smart! How had she known?! "Yes, yes, yes! I looooove pancakes. Pancakes would be soooo good right now!"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The Zeltron's face smiled even larger than before, and Lilaena offered a small one of her own in reply. "Come on then." You didn't live on your own for years without being able to cook, and pancakes were very easy. After fifteen minutes of mixing and cooking they managed to create a large stack of pancakes. Lyydea helped - her enthusiasm was childlike, and her skill level matched, leaving the galley with a fine coating of flour by the time they were finished.

Lilaena handed off the bowl of batter to an incoming Mandalorian, and joined the girl at a table just as she was beginning to pour syrup generously over her breakfast. She spread some butter on hers. "We haven't really talked much about you, Lyydea. About what you want for your life."

[Lyydea Amarra]

They were perfect, amazing, wonderful, delicious! My smile all but exploded across my face as the gooey, warm syrup slowly slid down the sides of my stack. Was it possible to drown a pancake? I was going to find out!

Then, without warning, a question. My smile slid just enough to make me realize it. Happy, happy. Have to keep happy, happy. I forced my smile brighter. I wanted to do whatever Mistress De'Ville told me to. More and more a tickle had been creeping into my head, a thought, stray and running like a wild puppy - Mistress wanted something else from me. Something that wasn't simply my obedience. Which was just crazy! Obedience, unquestioning and unthinking was what I was supposed to show. So many questions, questions, questions about what I wanted, rather than simply telling me what I wanted.

I felt my lip tug between my teeth, a sharp grind, a pinch and the taste of coins fell over my tongue. Sticky, sweet goodness would replace it soon though. Yes, yes. A bit of color was okay, and I did so very much like red.

But why, why, why did I have to answer such a question? I couldn't let Mistress see I wasn't happy about the question though, could not let her see. So in a big bite of pancake went to hide my answer. I mumbled around a mouthful of the breakfast goodness, hoping she'd hear an answer in it that she was expecting.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The girl tried to hide her discomfort, but Lilaena was very good at reading emotions through the Force. "Lyydea, if you do not tell me the truth I will be upset with you. You have lived here on the ship for a while now, and you have played the perfect servant girl the entire time. If this is all you are, that is fine. If you want more from life, then you're going to have to break out of your habits and talk to me."

[Lyydea Amarra]

My cheeks puffed with the weight of the food, and I felt my shoulders slump. Unhappy.

I was unhappy. I wasn't supposed to be unhappy. Why did I have to explain this to Mistress, even if she said it was fine for me to be the servant, even if she said that, why did I feel that's not what she wanted.

Why did being asked this make my head swim, make my thoughts all itchy? Why did this have to be so difficult? There was so much simplicity in what I was. I was the servant, she was the mistress. She told me what to do and how, and I did it. No problems! No headache! No, no, no unhappiness!

I swallowed my pancake and drew circles in the syrup with the prong of the fork. I barely managed to speak, but I knew I had to say something, couldn't just sit here not saying anything, she'd be even more upset, even more angry with me.

"M'not sure..." it was barely a whisper, an embarrassed tone. I couldn't look up, afraid of seeing a gaze that was angry for me saying anything. "I don't 'member anything else." I wasn't supposed to talk about anything else, wasn't supposed to mention that there had ever been a time I wasn't the property of another. That was forbidden, that was against the rules.

But this mistress, she was so different than any owner before. I wasn't even allowed to call her owner. "I'm just..." I trailed off, feeling my shoulders tighten and my gaze fall further, to the floor, I wanted to be anywhere else, somewhere, where I didn't have to explain, didn't have to talk, didn't have to feel her eyes on me.

"I'm just a thing." I mumbled through sticky lips, pushing my plate away as I felt my appetite vanish into the air. "And...and... and... things don't want. They just... we just... I just... do what I'm told."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

And there it was, finally, a crack her her persona. A glimpse into what lay behind Lyydea's carefully crafted happiness. She'd used it as protection for probably her whole life, and Lilaena regretted that she had to peel it away to expose Who Lyydea Really Is.

She didn't touch her, or even move, afraid that the girl would pull the curtains closed and retreat. "You are Lyydea Amarra. You are not a thing."

[Lyydea Amarra]

Lyydea Amarra, it was such a stupid name. Why not just call me girl, or yes thing or toy or whatever else my master or mistress wanted me to be. That's what I was. It was so much easier, I could smile and beam and be happy because I knew where I fit, and how I worked, and I didn't have to think, and I didn't have to remember, and I didn't have to...

I slid my hand under the plate, under my uneaten pancakes and flicked it, the sticky mess sailing across the dining hall and shattering against the wall.

"Maybe I don't want to be Lyydea." I groused, I was being bad. I was being disobedient. I'd be punished, but didn't I deserve that? Wasn't that what I'd earned. "Lyydea was such, is such, is always such a stupid girl. Stupid. Stupid. Couldn't do anything right, couldn't be good. Had to be taught. Taught. Taught. The whip and the smile. The whip and the hand."

I twirled a curl of fiery red hair around a finger, pulling and twisting, knotting it around my knuckle until my pink skin turned red, until the strands I held pulled free from my head, tempted to repeat the process.

"... I don't deserve to be Lyydea." I sank back further, wrapping my arms around my knees, tugging my chin to my legs. "Lyydea did it. Lyydea is responsible. If I'm a thing I can forget."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She ignored the thrown plate of pancakes and focused on the girl, needing to press further but cautious lest the child completely fractured. Lilaena gently pulled the yanked out curl from Lyydea's hand, laying it on the table. There were people coming in for breakfast, but a look from her made sure that they gave the two of them plenty of space.

"What did Lyydea do?"

[Lyydea Amarra]

I watched her over my knees, my eyes were leaking. I hated when the leaked. Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was the opposite of happy. I tucked in tighter, trying to hide, trying to curl away from her. "I don't want to say." I mumbled through my dress, burying my face again. "I didn't mean to." I bit my lip as the memory, nightmare and dream hit me much harder than it had earlier. The fire, the taste and smell of the smoke, her scream.

"I just wanted breakfast." the words were barely a whisper. "I wasn't trying to be bad, I just wanted breakfast."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

She shouldn't play with things she didn't understand. Lilaena knew that some things were just a bad idea, including what she was about to ask Lyydea to do. After all, she hadn't even had telepathic abilities until after she had defeated the spectre of her old master in a hellish dreamscape inside her own mind (http://theholo.net/forum/showthread.php?55448-In-the-Forge-10-045). A part of her was just curious to see if it would work, when she put her hands out toward Lyydea and said, "Show me."

Another part of her saw this as an experiment worth taking, a way to help them both - training in her new abilities, and for Lyydea to open up. A much smaller part was scared shitless. Lilaena used that trickle of fear to open herself up to the maelstrom of the Dark side as Lyydea took her hands and they both closed their eyes.

[Lyydea Amarra]

I am a good girl, I do what I am told. Mistress takes my hands and closes her eyes? Of course, course, course I'm going to do the same. I am a good girl.

---

Warmth, a breeze catches my hair through an open window and blows it away from my face. I'm much shorter. This is long ago. I don't want to remember this, but I can't stop the images. I let out a soft breath I'd been holding in my chest and let it happen.

My finger wrap against the door, a soft knock and then I push it open. Inside she is there. The happy woman, the smiling woman. I bound over to her bed and jump into it without a care. A soft laugh, a cough, I hear her say something to me, muffled by the soft comforter I have sank into.

"Lyydea, Lyydea... it is too early. Mommy's tired right now, hon." Her smile is bright, and happy and warm and makes me want to smile, smile, smile! She's such a good owner. She's my first one I think. Always giving me hugs, the soft kind not the hurty kind. And making me food, and doesn't ask me to do anything I don't want to - lately she hasn't done as much. She is tired a lot. Usually asleep, or at the store picking up the bottles full of candy. She tells me it's not candy for me though. It's special candy to make her better.

I hope she's better. She's such a wonderful owner. "I wanted to make you something!" I squeal in girlish delight as she pulls me closer to her in the bed, hugging me warmly.

"Oh?" her soft voice questions, and I smile.

"Yes, yes! I know'm not suppose to use to cook without you but, I wanted you to feel better so pancakes and bacon and..."

There's a buzzing in the distance, a soft wail of warning. I see fear in her eyes, worry and concern as the smell hits me. The roiling black that rolls across the ceiling is the next thing I remember, the choking, gagging heat and her arms on me, pulling me stumbling. Then red and orange and the sound of screaming, and pain. I try and move her, but she's too big, I'm too small. I scream. She doesn't move.

Everything is black, when I can see again, cough again, breath again it's not her voice I hear.

"...cky anyone survived." a man's voice, a deep voice. "Where did it start?" A different voice, "Looks like the kitchen."

It fades and I do too, everything turns grey and dark around me and it is quiet all but one sentence that repeats, always repeats, forever repeats. "Only one survivor."

---

I pull back from the touch, the hands, her grip - I clench and clench and clench my head, hands digging into my hair as hot warmth spills from my eyes. "No, no, no. Didn't mean to. I'm a good girl. Didn't mean to."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

It took Lilaena a moment to shake off the shared vision. She'd observed Lyydea's memory from the sidelines, but it was a powerful and emotional touchstone for the Zeltron, and some of that had leaked through to her. She blinked away tears of her own, steeling and grounding herself in the present, in what she was doing. "Lyydea. Lyydea!"

Her voice was sharp. Loud. Had to be, to break through the girl's mantra of I'm a good girl. Lyydea paused, peeking out at her master. Lilaena looked stern, forced herself to look firm and sure of herself. "It was an accident. Of course you didn't mean to - you were just a child."

[Lyydea Amarra]

My eyes were wet, wide. I felt my tongue dart across my lips, the heat of the fire scorching them, making them dry.

Then master was calling to me. Speaking to me. Firm, strong, something to hold to, something to grab onto. So I did. My arms clutched at her, my face buried against her chest, my eyes leaking large pools as my breath slowly came back to me. I hate, hate, hated that memory. I hated it. I wanted it dead, I wanted it gone.

"It was an accident. Of course you didn't mean to - you were just a child."

The words stung, they bit my ears like insects. I was a child, how long ago had that been. How long since I'd been a child. I wasn't anymore, I knew this. No amount of smiling or candy or dresses could change that. I pulled a bit harder against her, and slowly brought my sleeve to my face, wiping away the warmth and sticky residue from my face.

"She... she's gone." My words trembled against my lips, and I felt my teeth dig into the lower one, staining it a pretty shade of red. "I can't get her back, can I?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

Lilaena, caught by surprise when Lyydea threw herself into her arms, held the girl awkwardly. There were more than a few red curls in her face, but the Dark Jedi managed to ignore them and speak to the former slave. It would be easy to promise her that she could see her beloved master again. The mysteries of the Force, forbidden knowledge, all those sorts of things. But it wouldn't be the truth.

"No, you can't. Accepting death is part of growing up, Lyydea." She wondered what exactly the cognitive dissonance was between this first death, and the girl's fascination with blood, and making it leak out of others. "Have you killed others?"

[Lyydea Amarra]

Kill. Kill. The word was so wicked. It was so easy though, so, so easy to hear the music in my head - to let the gentle fog pour over me, to smile and play with those around me. Some of them broke so easily, that wasn't my fault. Not like with her, she was important, the others weren't.

I dug the toe of my shoe into the floor, a sheepish look spanning from ear to ear. "I like their colors." I said softly, head tilting. "And some of them..." I remembered when I'd first been acquired, or, well freed as Mistress De'Ville was so adamant in calling it. The man with the rodent face, he'd dripped on me, spoiled my first dress - the one I'd managed to keep so long. He'd certainly deserved to go away. Was, was it wrong to do that to the others? No, no, no. It couldn't be wrong, it made me happy. It made me happy. It was different.

"Sometimes I break my toys."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"And the woman in the fire - she was not a toy to you? What is the difference?" Lilaena smoothed Lyydea's hair out of her face and pushed her away a bit, sitting her back up on her own.

[Lyydea Amarra]

I giggled, soft and sweet at the question. It wasn't funny, not really funny. Not ha, ha, ha funny where you laugh and smile and are happy. No it was funny in how much I hadn't seen it before. "She was like you." I nodded at my own realization, certain in it's rightness. "She wouldn't let me call her my owner either, I don't think anyone had me call them that til after her. I don't remember anyone before her, though. It was her, and then the fire, and then the others."

I twisted a red lock around my pinky and thought, face all frowny from going over it all in my head. "She was different, I was different - I think. It's so hard to remember though. She never taught me like the others would, not with chains and painful hugs that make you feel smothered and sick." I brought the smile back across my face, swallowing down the revulsion of the memories. My lips turned down again, and I put my hand to my eyes, I was leaking again. Why did thinking about her make me leak. I hated when I did that. "Its funny." I let out a soft, almost whimpering laugh, "She's the only owner that looked like she did." I tilted my head, a weight crashing in my chest as I felt the tears welling up again, "Why did she look like me?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

The answer came crashing through, easily pushing aside the girl's misconceptions that had clouded the memory she had witnessed. Lilaena found this to be uncomfortable territory to be walking Lyydea through, but did her best to be gentle.

"Because she was your mother," she said softly.

[Lyydea Amarra]

My eyes wouldn't stop dripping. I hate, hate, hate this. Wipe your eyes, dry the tears, good girls don't cry, good girls don't... good girls don't... my shoulders slumped, I felt my lip quiver, not like when I wanted something and made the face that said "buy me this or I'll cry" no, no, no - this felt too, too real. I hated this.

"That's mean..." I said, quiet, not wanting to mean it, not wanting to say it. Mistress De'Ville was so, so nice, so why was she being mean now. "I don't have a mother. Slaves don't mothers." He'd said so, he'd known better - taught me, trained me, explained it all to me. I was a thing, I was a slave, I didn't have a mother, I was property.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Even slaves have mothers," said Lilaena. "Why do you think that you don't have one? Do you have a father?" Part of her was afraid to hear the answer to that question, knowing how twisted the girl was from her life in slavery, subject to the whims of perverse masters.

[Lyydea Amarra]

My lips tightened, my body shrank, I didn't like this question. I don't like this question. "My second... my second owner. The one after the nice lady, he.. I... he was." I pulled my fingers through my hair, twisting, tightening red hair, pulling, pulling, pulling. "Daddy, yes daddy. Anything daddy. Good girls obey daddy." I tucked my legs to my chest, it was hard to breath, tight, tight, tight chest. I don't like this, I don't like this.

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"And what happened to him? Did he sell you?" Her voice was hard. One didn't need to use telepathy to understand the subtext of Lyydea's words, but Lilaena was having trouble not picking up an image or two from the girl's mind. With effort she closed it off, leaving just an emotional echo from the former slave. She knew abuse, had had her back torn apart by the whip, but this...

"Tell me, Lyydea. Where is he?"

[Lyydea Amarra]

"Too old." I whimpered, I wasn't a bad girl, I wasn't trying to be, I really wasn't. "I'm too old. Doesn't want me." I pulled harder at my curled up strands of hair, red lengths tugging with my hands. Focus, focus, focus. I have to focus, Mistress is talking, can't be weak, can't be bad. I rapidly blinked, tears clearing from my vision as I watched her, listened to her, heard the hard words, the question.

"Tell me, Lyydea. Where is he?"


Where? Away, far away, finally not on her, not on top, no hugs no... NO. Be good, focus, be strong, focus. My tongue darted between my teeth, flicking as I pushed the pain aside, shaking my head - trying to remember, trying to think.

"Ship, he has a ship. Always, always flying. One place, then another - always different people. He shakes their hand, they laugh and their eyes watch me, want me..."

I tugged my shoulders in a bit tighter again, but forced myself to keep going, going, going. "Then they bring in boxes, lots of boxes and he takes those someplace else, shakes a new person's hand and smiles cause he's happy. Always happier after. Food was better after, problems would be fixed on the ship after."

I clenched the sides of my head, "I don't know the words. I want to, but I don't. He, he, he took the boxes to people and then he was happier and could do more, I don't know what that's called."

Anything could help, anything. I knew that, I wasn't even sure how I knew that, but I knew that. I didn't want to hide this from Mistress, she was so nice to me, dresses and food and comfort. So nice, like the first lady. Fear. She remembered how mad he'd get, yell about patrols about checks, about security.

"He didn't like soldiers. Always afraid they would take the boxes, always mad when they were around, took it out on me, on me, on me."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"So he was a smuggler," mused Lilaena. She stood up abruptly, holding out her hand to the girl. "Come with me, Lyydea. Can you read a starmap?"

They walked through the ship, leaving the galley behind and entering the bridge where she waved off Bretak who was the defacto 'captain' of the ship. He made sure things were running smoothly, even if running a village and running a starship were different...they weren't that different. He nodded at her, and left her alone.

Lilaena led Lyydea to a console off to the side of the bridge, and accessed the navigational charts. "Do you know what systems he operated in?"

[Lyydea Amarra]

Tight, tight, tight. I clung to her hand like I would the last sweet piece of candy I would ever be offered. I wasn't sure what she meant. I could read, some. Was a starmap different than a book? I liked books, especially the one where the naughty little boy falls into the Rancor pit after running away from his protective Hutt owner. He had deserved it.

I blinked when she pointed at the screens, blinking flickering lights and lines, this wasn't like my book.

"It's pretty..." I said softly, running my hand over the images, a heartbeat between the words in my brain and on my lips I realized I was supposed to read this. To answer Mistress' question. I felt my cheeks redden with embarassment. I was bad, so bad - I couldn't do what she wanted me to.

I shook my head slowly, sadly. "I... he. I wasn't... he didn't like me knowing..." I bit into my lip, stammering as I stained my skin crimson as a drop of liquid fell from between my teeth to splatter on my shoe, just as red as my lips now.

You had to know something! Think, think, think! Somewhere in that dusty, ditsy, musty, rusty head is something to answer with! THINK!

My eyes lit up. I could not read the lines and lights, I did not know the direction. But I remembered a name. A name he always said.

"There was a man! A man who told him where to go. He would talk about him, complain about him. Always smile and nod when he was on screen and then frown and fume when off. I know his name. Would that help?"

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Yes," she said, hiding her frustration at Lyydea's illiteracy and also at herself for not realizing the girl could not read. "Yes, a name would be very helpful." Lilaena smiled.

[Lyydea Amarra]

Name. There was a name, he had a name. What was his name? My head wouldn't clear, I couldn't think, think, think!

"Sticky!" I all but shouted, electric feeling tingling in my brain. Memory, memory I found you!

"Icky sticky. Stk'ick. Mr. Stk'ick. Always Mr. Stk'ick when he was near, always Icky sticky when he was gone. Spit the name, hate the man. Had to do what he said, had to comply, awful, awful."

[Lilaena De'Ville]

"Stk'ick..." she said slowly, trying out the name on her tongue. It was a harsh name, hard to say, and no doubt fit the man who owned it. "Right, let's see now. Mr. Stk'ick, some sort of broker or information dealer perhaps, giving jobs to smugglers..."

Her fingers flew over the keyboard as she input commands and queries into the holonet. A couple results came up, due to not being exactly sure how one spelled a name like Stk'ick, but Lilaena selected the most likely and enlarged the pictures that went with the names. "Is he one of these men?"

[Lyydea Amarra]

I tap, tap, tapped my finger across the screen, trailing over the pictures that were given to me. "Face of rat." I giggled softly at the first, and shook my head biting into my lower lip, "Not him." Tap, drag, tap. Another image popped up, "Face of flat." I smiled inwardly as the next oddly proportioned face was shown across the screen and I swiped it away, still not him. Tap, drag, tap. Pause. Stare.

http://i.imgur.com/qORDiZA.jpg

"Face of fat." I ran my entire palm across the image, pushing it away. "Icky Sticky."