Many Losses
24 I.E.

"I'm hungry, mama."

"Shhh, 'Va, I'll get you something to eat. It's time we both had something."

Jeslyn Knight lifted herself wearily off the bunk and spoke quietly to the elderly couple that the mother and daughter were sharing the cabin with before heading toward the door.

"Mama?"

The dark-haired woman turned. "Yes, 'Va?"

"Why can't we eat at our normal dinner time?" Jeslyn smile and crossed the room, kneeling in front of her little girl and taking both small hands in her own.

"We are trying to get used to the dinner times on Corellia. Night times too. So try not to go to sleep while I'm gone?"

Sylva Knight let out a huge yawn. "I'll try, mama."

"Good girl. I'll be back soon."

Yani Novain stood as the door slid shut and came slowly across the room, sitting down on the bed beside Sylva.

"Are you handling the trip well, little one?"

The girl sifted through the words for a moment before understanding fully. "Oh yes. I never got to go off-planet before. I just wish daddy had come too. He would always take me up to the roof at night and look at the stars with me. He gave me this right before we left."

The old woman smiled as the girl pointed proudly at the star pendant hanging from the slender chain around her neck.

"It's beautiful, dear."

Sylva smiled, but then looked wistfully at the bare white bulkheads of the cabin. "This room doesn't have any windows..."

"I'll tell you what. When your mother gets back, we'll eat and then we can all go to one of the lounges. They have very big viewports, though all you'll be able to see is hyperspace. Maybe we can go more than once. Perhaps when we reach Corellia."

Sylva's eyes lit up and she bounced excitedly on the bunk. "Really?"

Yani was about to reply when the deck gave a sudden lurch and a loud noise rang in their ears as they were thrown off the bunk. As they picked themselves up another shudder ran through the ship, and then another. Mical Novain was at the computer portal as fast as his aging limbs could take him, punching in a series of letters and numbers that made no sense to Sylva. Then she heard a loud voice overhead, coming from a speaker in the ceiling.

"This is your captain speaking. We are under attack from pirate raiders. Please remain calm. Head to the escape pods and the light transports in the hangars aft. Do not attempt to go forward. Repeat, do not attempt to go forward." The message ended in a burst of static as Yani immediately grabbed the Sylva's hand and began rushing her through the door.

"Where's mama? What about mama? What's happening, Yani?"

"Hush, child, and hurry. Your mother can take care of herself." She quickly turned her face away from the girl, not wanting her to see the worry in her eyes. The dining halls were in the forward part of the cruiser, and that was the part that was apparently bearing the brunt of the attack. "Hurry, dear," she insisted again.

Sylva was doing her best to hold on to Yani's hand but it was so difficult. The walkway was crowded with people, many of them running. They had just entered a widened crossway when another lurch threw them to the ground. When the girl looked up, she saw color. Bright red streaked past her, hitting several people who cried out in pain and fell. Yani snatched her away from another bolt and she screamed in terror at the man's face that had suddenly appeared before her. It had a gash, running right down the middle, slicing his nose in half and leaking a red liquid everywhere. Then Mical grabbed her from Yani and they began to run.

Around a corner, they met a row of men covered in all manner of weapons and ammunition. Mical tried to make a quick about face, but slipped and Sylva rolled out of his arms straight towards the pirates. One grabbed her arm and a vibroknife flashed toward her neck, but she was suddenly grabbed from behind and the knife connected with her thigh instead. She let out another scream as blood poured from her leg. Yani had found the controls for an emergency door which cut them off from the attackers long enough for Mical to wrap a quick bandage of torn tunic around the wound, but from the sounds on the other side the barrier wasn't going to last long. They ran.

Part of the crew was herding the distraught passengers through several hangar doors, and Sylva and the Novains reached one just as it closed.

"Transports all full!" one man yelled in explanation and motioned them onto the next hangar. Apparently they were some of the few last one's allowed into the this one, for the blast doors began closing almost instantly. Then Sylva saw several things at once.

The first was her mother, running with the crowd that was surging it's way towards the hangars. The next was a wave of men who must have been what all of the people were running from; they were carrying blasters and all kinds of other weapons. Sylva immediately tore herself free from Mical's grasp and raced toward the door as best she could with the leg injury.

"Mama!"

"Sylva!" Yani was calling her, but she did not hear. All she knew was that the doors were closing fast and she had to get to her mama.

"Mama!" she called again, and she saw that she heard her, or saw her, for she looked straight at her for a single instant. Then there was a flash of red from the pirates behind and several beings fell. Her own mother fell. Then the hall was filled with blaster fire.

"MAMA!" Sylva threw herself against the closing doors and reached through the remaining space. "Mamaaaa!"

A sickening thud accompanied a crunch and she felt something like fire explode throughout her entire arm. It felt hot, then cold, and then she could feel nothing at all except a searing ache in her shoulder. Hands grabbed her and pulled her away from the doors, and though she wanted to fight them, she couldn't. Red haze licked around the corners of her vision, and then all went black.

Fists of Steel
34 I.E.


Cairon Spaceport was a popular place. Its gleaming white exterior reflected the daylight for a full twelve hours, and the attractive, clean inside was filled with tourists from all reaches of the Galaxy. Rows upon rows of booths, shops, taverns, and clubs greeted the newcomers with expensive merchandise, "high-class" drinks, attractive souveniers, and the usual smattering of big-money seekers who were drawn by the spaceport's crystal reputation.

That was the upper levels of Spaceport. The tourists didn't see below the duracrete they walked on into the loading docks. All merchandise for the shops above and any goods for the surrounding area came through the Docks, transfered by droids to the distribution vehicles. That was where all the high-class cargo came through. Down below Docks 20 through 130 lay the Darkports. Officially these were docks 10 through 19, but nobody refered to them as such. They all had thier own names.

No droids worked on the lowest three levels. The labor here was supplied by living hands, tentacles, claws, and any number of other apendages. The owners of these appendages were large and burly, and mostly unintelligent, unable to find other jobs suited to their combination of physique and cranial capacity. They worked for a shipping coorporation known as the Aryiians of Cairon that tended to deal in more than the standard amount of questionable goods. Docks 10 through 13 were owned by the Aryiians.

Now the lowest of the Darkports were seeing a flurry of activity as a private space yatch touched down and a male Twi'lek in robes that seemed markedly out of place in the dark surroundings moved down the boarding ramp. The manager moved to his side quickly.

"Welcome, Mirrean. We are delighted to see you. Please be assured that the port is in top working order and is fully ready to be inspected. We are assured that your opinion will be unbiased and will be of utmost fairness to the employees here--"

"Mr. Liart. I did not come here to be flattered or bribed. Show me the workings of this port, and I shall be swiftly on my way."

The manager stuttered meaninglessly for a moment before nodding quickly and snapping his fingers at a line of younger men who had previously been shifting their feet and whispering in restlessness. They came quickly to a relaxed attention and watched the inspector with intelligent eyes.

"These are our pilots. As you can see, they are the best in the business..." His voice faded out as one man let loose a snigger. "Ah, perhaps we should go to the loading bays first."

"Perhaps we should." The inspector followed Liart, but not without a backward glance at the disruptive pilot and an annoyed twitch of his lekku.

"Here we maintain a high level of efficiency..." Mirrean tuned the man out as he surveyed the line of beings working to transfer large packages of what was most likely some rare metal from the loading bays to an old fashioned belt that moved them into the next room. The workers were all obviously strong, their bodies thick and their arms bulging as they worked to lift the heavy containers. Then his eyes fell on one that appeared very out of place and a frown crossed his face as he started forward. The man turned to place a carton on the belt and as he did so a band fell from his hair and it cascaded down his back, framing a very feminine face.

Indeed, Mirrean saw, the worker was a human female, given away by a body that was at least a third of the size of the other laborers in girth and slightly shorter as well.

"You. Female. Step forward and give me your name."

Her head came up as she straightened from scooping up the band from the floor, eyes flashing as she moved toward him and pulling the long brown hair back under the band.

"They call me Knight."

"Very well, 'Knight.' Why are you working here?"

"I don't have the experience for another job, and I'm strong enough for this one. It pays." She spoke in a monotone and her eyes had lost their spark, as if she were reciting a prewritten script. Mirrean's eyes moved over her, studying her with eyes trained from inspecting Twi'lek dancers. She stared back at him with a blank expression.

"How old are you?"

"Eighteen standard."

"And how long have you been working here?"

"Little over a year."

Mirrean's lekku twitched slightly as he though a moment, then waved his hand in a dismissive guesture. "Get back to work. But--" She stopped in mid-turn. "Perhaps I will be able to work out a way for you to move up in the organization." He smiled. "I'll be seeing you again soon, I'm sure." She made no answer, instead turning back to the containers. He watched her lift one more with ease before turning to continue the tour. The workers began to talk as soon as the door slid shut.

"Hey, Knight! What of it now? You gonna move up a few Docks, eh?"

"Shaddup. Leave my girl alone." One of the younger workers shoved his way into line beside her and nudged her shoulder with his own. "That comes around again, you let me know, hear? I'll teach him to mess with what's mine."

Knight moved away a few inches and turned to face him. "I've never been yours, Merc, I'm not now, and I won't be in the future."

His face screwed up for a moment, but then he laughed and reached for her, pulling her against himself. "That's what you think."

She shoved him away and several workers gave way as Merc stumbled back a few feet. "You touched me. Don't do that again."

He straighted up and began to move forward. "I'll show you touch, Knight. I'll show you touch like you've never felt..." She met his reaching hand with her gloved left one, grabbing his wrist and turning it. He gasped in pain as she let go, cradleling the sprained appendage in his other hand.

"That was a warning. Next time I'll break it." By now the other beings in the area had formed a circle around them, waiting breathlessly for the next move. Merc fumed silently at one end, muttering to himself. At last he moved forward again. "I spent three years hiring out to fight the Hutt's people and I ain't gonna be beat now. C'mere and let me show you how it's done."

She let him come to her before slipping aside and under his groping arm. He tried to catch up, but she grabbed his sprained wrist and squeezed. Merc roared in pain as the sound of crunching bone became audible. "Whatdya have? Hands of steel?" he screamed as he reeled back. Then he decided that he had had enough of this. It was time to take his own.

He came at her again and feinted left, then swung a punch that landed on her right shoulder. She blocked his next try, landing one his head and two on his torso. He tried a kick that would take her feet out from under her, but she lept nimbly aside to land in a crouching position behind him. He simply swung around again, landing a heavy kick to her stomach. Gasping, she rolled over on her stomach and he was instantly on top of her, his mouth heading for hers. She saw it coming and managed to whip the glove off her right hand and backhand him across the cheek. The other workers murmured in mixed appreciation and astonishment as Merc flew several feet across the deck and landed with a thud. He didn't get up.

"What's going on here? Move it! MOVE IT!" A man larger than all of the others and wearing a the badge of an foreman shouldered his way through the crowd in time to see Knight pick herself up. Her right arm glimmered slightly and now all could see that it was a mechanical replacement with a cheap, patchy coverup job of synthflesh over it. Blood stained the back of the hand, which was quickly hidden with the glove again.

"So that's her secret." The laborers were murmuring again until the foreman turned a stormy gaze on them. "Somebody tell me what happened." Several of the workers were more than happy to oblige and they recounted the entired episode with approving glances in Knight's direction at many points. The foreman crossed his arms at the end and looked sternly from face to face.

"You. Get him," he jerked his head at Merc, "and take him up to the offices on the Raile Deck. Tell them the entire story and tell them I want him out. Fired, understand?" The alien nodded and shouldered the unconscience man, exiting quickly while ignoring the blood that dripped from his cheek. The foreman turned back the Knight.

"And I want you to go home and get some rest. Anyone gives you any more trouble, you come to me." She nodded. "Thanks Roin." He nodded to her as she left and glared at the remaining beings until they got the message and once again took up their neglected work.

Fists of Steel Continued

Sylva Knight groaned as the tone sounded that meant someone was outside her door wanting to come in. Instead of getting up and opening it, she just rolled over, pulled the sheet over her head, and keyed the intercom system.

"Who's it?"

A man's voice echoed through the speaker, tinged with the slightest bit of worry. "Daron. Can I come in? Roin wanted me to check up on you." Sylva groaned again, louder this time, and hit the controls to release the door lock, then buried her head in her pillow. She was so tired...

The man who entered was of medium build, with a shock of white hair and dark weathered skin. Still, he could not have been more than 25 standard years of age. A badge on his jacket displayed his occupation of freighter pilot for the Aryiians of Cairon, and the intelligent spark in his eye said that he was a good one. Glancing around the dark apartment, he flicked the glowpanel controls, causing three of them to sputter to life. The fourth remained dim and flickering, while the fifth didn't bother cooperating at all. He crossed the room with quick, long strides and stood by the low sleep couch a moment with crossed arms, finally prodding her in the side with one toe.

"What exactly are you doing?"

Sylva flipped over onto her back and clawed the sheet off her face, casting a glare at Daron. "I was trying to get some sleep, but you obviously seem to think that that's not the best thing for me right now. Especially since I haven't had any shut-eye in over 36 hours."

The pilot shrugged and moved over to the small food unit. "Speaking of "not having," when was the last time you ate?"

She threw the sheets off and rose, straightening her tunic slighty and running her mechanical fingers through her hair. "I don't remember."

Daron threw his hands up in exasperation. "What am I supposed to do with you, Knight? Do you like living like this?"

Sylva shrugged. The pilot shook his head and sighed. "I guess it's not as bad as the Goube Dock." He was refering to Dock 6, the lowest dock in Cairon Spaceport that still officially served people, even if it was only for what might pass as housing. No one knew what was one Docks 1 through 5. They had been sealed off before the Aryiians had bought their own Dockspace. Sylva's room was on the Strate Dock, Dock 8. The living quarters weren't quite as dirty as the Goube Dock, but not up to par with the one's on Dock 9. It was simply a place for workers to live who couldn't afford better housing elsewhere.

"I have an idea."

Sylva rolled her eyes and stretched her organic arm, rotating it in a circle.

"It's nothing big," Daron insisted. "Why don't you just get cleaned up and come over to my place and I'll take you to have a good dinner. Stars knows you need one."

She shrugged and continued stretching. He suddenly grinned and poked her in the stomach. "You're all ribs. And you definetly don't need to build any more of this stuff." He grabbed her left bicep and shook it. "Please, Knight."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. "Fine. What time."

"As soon as you can. I'm not busy today."

"Alright, I'll see you at your place soon. You can leave now." She activated the door's mechanism and it slid open.

Daron moved halfway through, then turned around. "You won't just go back to sleep again will you?"

She gritted her teeth. "Back to sleep is a term reserved for those who have been enjoying that wonderful sensation in the near past. I, unfortunately, do not fall into that category."

He grinned, shaking his head, and left.

Fists of Steel Continued

By the time she entered the building in which Daron's apartment was located, Sylva Knight's appearance had been greatly improved upon. A fresh tunic made of strong, dark red material had replaced the dirty blue one she had been wearing thirty minutes ago, and clean hair hung down her back. An attempt had been made to conceal the dark circles and red rims around her eyes, and while only partially successful, it did improve her appearance somewhat.

The speaker sounded before she could press the comm. "Come on up, Knight," the pilot's voice was light as always and Sylva allowed herself a small grin as she stepped into the turbolift.

Daron's apartment was small, but it had three rooms with windows in all of them, overlooking the busy skies of Coruscant. In the few times she had been here, Sylva had been awed by the scene, often wanting to do nothing else other than stand at the plexiglass for hours on end, simply looking. Coruscant was certainly a great melting pot of the Galaxy. Even as she watched, an enormous cruiser touched down on a distant landing platform and began discharging myriads of passengers. She could see Cairon Spaceport from here as well, gleaming transports and freighters moving to and fro all around it. Always moving, always full of activity that needed to be completed in the space of the next few hourse, only to be replaced by even more urgent needs that hammered the powerful minds to pain. A never-ceasing circle, that's what it was.

Her reverie was interrupted as a shirtless Daron walked quickly into the room, rubbing his fingers through wet hair in a quick motion that flung droplets of water in every direction. Sylva turned and raised her eyebrows. "Sorry," he said, drying his hands on his pants and beginning to rumage through a chest. "I got called out on a last minute transport to the next sector over and just got back. You look good."

"Thanks. I'm sorry I can't return the compliment."

"Sure you can." The pilot pulled a gray shirt over his head and assumed a stance frequently employed by holonet stars. Sylva shook her head and finally let loose with a laugh. Daron joined her after a moment.

"And thus I am ready. We can just hop into my luxurious speeder and be on our way."

Sylva's grin didn't cease as he led her out to the landing platform and a small patch-job of a transport. The pilot bowed in an elaborate gesture.

"Welcome aboard the Skylar Express, the latest in transportation technology."



The restaurant was a middle-class establishment; not as nice as the five stars, but much quieter than the taverns and bars scattered around nearby. The view from the window next to their booth was nice, if not as stunning as others, and the food wasn't half bad. A nice change from her normal fare, Sylva thought. When the enormous meal was finally done and paid for, Daron insisted on taking her to one of the parks scattered around, "just to see the sights." She agreed reluctantly, still thinking whistfully of a bed in a dark, dark room. Hopefully she wouldn't fall asleep standing up.

As Daron pointed out several building from their position on a skywalk, Sylva restled with the thought that had kept her up for nights on end. It was not an easy thing, but she felt that she would be happier, and most importantly, free. When the pilot continued to talk without pause, she finally grapped his arm with her replacement and spun him around to face her.

"I've made up my mind." His startled expression didn't fade, in fact it was possibly growing more severe.

"About what?"

The metal fingers grew tighter around his bicep. "I'm leaving the Aryiians."

Surprise was now added to the expression. "What do you mean? I mean, what are you going to do? Where will you go? I..." He might have continued if Sylva hadn't interrupted.

"I've saved enough credits to buy my own freighter. I'll be operating independantly out of Coruscant. I'll probobly still do some business with the Aryiians."

He had now gripped both of her arms and was wearing a worried look. "So I'll still see you?"

"Of course. It's not like I'll be dead."

Daron let out a small choke and enveloped her in a tight embrace. She could feel his tears on her neck and with a startled rush came realization. Oh, no, not this. I can't deal with this now. I have to be on my own, without anyone holding me down.. How in the world she would extract herself from this one she had no idea, only that it would have to be done one way or another. For now, she just gave in, returning the moment and letting him think all was well. And for a moment, there was peace.

The quiet moment shattered an instant later with a volley of sounds that accompanied the sudden shredding of the wall behind, caused by what appeared as myriads of flashes of red lightening.

Sylva saw the speeder first, men leaning out both sides with blasters drawn. Pulling Daron down to the ground, and managed to shout above the suddenly increased wind, "We need to get under shelter!" Another burst of fire shot over them, then ceased for a moment as the vehicle banked around for another pass. By now the other pedestrians in the park were screaming and running in every different direction, causing absolute mayhem. Daron grabbed her hand in the brief interlude of fire and dashed through the swirl of beings, heading towards the tunnel that led to the place he had parked the speeder.

"What's going on?" Even though he was shouting, Sylva still had trouble hearing him. "I don't know! Did you steal a job from someone?" He shook his head. "I have no idea! They might be after you!"

They entered the tunnel as another burst of flak followed their steps, barely staying ahead of the deadly bolts. "I'd just like to know--who they are," Sylva gasped as they ran in the sudden silence afforded by the passageway. "Whoever they are, they aren't very good shots," Daron replied. Sylva suddenly slowed as they neared the other end of the tunnel. "Good enough though."

All that was left of Daron's speeder was a hunk of smoking slag. "Not good." Sylva looked around frantically and saw a small access hatch, hidden in a maintenence recess. "That way. Hurry!"

To be added onto when more time is available.