(Untitled)

{This story is based on Dara's parents. NOT my own. MY parents are loving, caring, and definitely NOT the head of a criminal organization. Just wanted to clear that up. ;o) }

Daramis carefully slid her legs over the windowsill and dropped silently to the ground. It had been easy getting this far. Too easy. She was nervous, on edge, expecting a trap at any moment. A dozing guard belatedly caught sight of her and raised his blaster. Before he could bring it into line, however, Daramis rapped his skull soundly with the butt of her own weapon. He slid noiselessly down the wall into a heap. After binding him securely with a rope from around her waist and stuffing him in a corner, gagged, Daramis wet her lips and glanced around. Things had changed slightly since she had been here last; this used to be her parent's reception room. Now it looked more like a storehouse. No matter. She knew every inch of this compound; she would find what she had come for.
There was only the one guard in the room, so Dara concluded that the contents of the assorted crates and boxes couldn't be that valuable. She opened one and found herself proven wrong. It was filled with blaster rifles. The crate beside it contained handguns--DL-44s--and the next held charges. She frowned. It was unlike her father to keep such items so loosely guarded. She then shrugged, sure he had his reasons. She collected a rifle, shoved an extra handgun into her belt, giving her three in all, and clipped a dozen charges onto the leather band that was draped from her right shoulder to her left hip.
There was only one door in the room, and it led to a hall. With the old layout, turning right should have led her to her parents' bedroom. But now the hallway was dim that direction, and Dara wasn't sure what the room had been converted into. Going left eight years ago would have taken her to the kitchens; she had taken many clandestine trips there in the night. The chef had been quite fond of her. She turned that way on the off-chance that those hadn't been moved. Dara smiled at the memory of old Tannel. He had been her refuge when her father was angry. He could be counted on to tuck her in some corner, then refuse to let her father in, threaten to quit until he left. Hal knew that Tannel was the best chef to be had and he wasn't taking the chance on losing him. He would leave, but Dara would spend the next hour or so in the kitchens with Tannel until her father cooled down. Tannel always had a special treat for her after school, as well.
Daramis headed for the kitchens cautiously, her soft-soled boots not making a sound. Her all-black apparel, from the headband keeping the hair out of her eyes to the boots, helped her blend in against the black-painted walls. It would be hard for a casual glance to pick her out. There were no guards in sight, which was very odd. There should have been at least two or three making their rounds. As she reached the end of the hallway, she could hear a loud, accented voice yelling behind the end door. A huge smile broke across Dara's face.
"You stay out of my kitchens, hey? I still know how to cook, you know? It's time you left me alone to my work and stopped worrying, hey. I should maybe go find another job that includes peace and quiet, hey?"
There was another voice, but Daramis couldn't make out the words.
"You maybe go tell Big Boss to leave the worries to myself. I be handling the work for longer than you been around, kid, hey? Go on, scat."
This time Daramis could hear the reply. It was a long series of curses. Tannel laughed loudly and a door closed. Dara waited until she could hear Tannel whistling--a sure sign that he was alone--before carefully keying the doorpad with an override code. The door slid open silently and Daramis found herself staring at Tannel's back as he reached for something in a high cupboard. She slipped inside quickly and crouched in a corner, waiting for Tannel to notice her.
As he turned, his hands flew up in the air and he uttered a short prayer to his ancestors, the metal bowl flying out of his grasp. "Mistress Dara, what do you mean by scaring Tannel like that?"
Daramis smiled, stood up, and crossed over to him. He wrapped her in a crushing embrace. "Daramis, you maybe been gone too long? Why have you come back now, hey? You maybe know your mom and dad, they aren't too happy with you?"
Dara smiled ruefully. "Yeah, Tannel. I know."
"Then you maybe wanna tell me why you are here? It wasn't to see Tannel, now was it, hey?"
She shook her head. "No. I didn't even know if you were still here. Believe it or not, I'm here to see my parents. I want to talk to them."
Tannel clicked his tongue. "That maybe not be such a good idea, little D. They maybe get mad, hey? Then what?"
"I can take care of myself, Tannel. Really."
He let her loose and shook his finger at her. "Now, Dara, you maybe been out in the galaxy on your own for some years, but Hal, he's not like anyone you run into out there."
"I don't know about that, Tannel. I've crossed paths with some pretty nasty characters. And don't forget, I lived with him for sixteen years. I know what to expect, and I'm prepared."
Tannel looked her up and down, his eyes taking in the three blasters at her belt, the rifle she carried, and the dozen plus extra charges attached to her bandoleer. "I would say you were, hey? And I'm maybe guessing your holdout in your sleeve, a vibroblade in your pocket, another in your boot, and your lightsaber maybe at your belt, hey?"
Dara smiled. "No lightsaber, Tannel. Not tonight."
The chef nodded. "I'm thinking that's maybe a good idea. It was you flying away to play at the Jedi that maybe sent your dad over the edge."
"I wasn't playing, no matter what he said. But maybe he'll be happy now," Dara said softly. "Say, Tannel, what's with the new layout? Why is that wing of the compound empty?" She jerked a thumb at the door through which she had entered.
Tannel smiled. "Now there's maybe proof that you will survive your encounter with your parents, hey? When you moved out, so did your parents. They moved their quarters from the north side to the south side. They maybe didn't want the memories every time they passed your room, hey? There are now only four, five people here that remember you. But Wanda, she left your room the way you did. You go in there now, you maybe find it the way you left it, hey? Clean, too. That wing is but storage."
Dara raised her eyebrows. "So they moved to get away from me, even though I was already gone?"
There was a knock at the kitchen door before Tannel could answer. "You maybe hide yourself, little D. I cannot tell them to go away."
Dara nodded curtly and disappeared.
Tannel opened the door and spoke with the man standing there for a few moments, then hurried him away with more threats of quitting. He turned from the door to find Daramis emerging from a large cupboard. It had been her favorite hiding place as a child and it was still empty. Surprisingly, she still fit into it. She brushed dust from her clothing.
"Where are my parents now?"
"Might be that they are in their reception room, hey? They have company--big company. So important it has them thinking that Tannel maybe doesn't know how do his job the good way, you know? I tell them all the day--leave Tannel alone. I'm doing a job that is fine, hey?" The face he made was so comical that Daramis had to laugh. "The company should be gone in one, two maybe hours."
"Is that where all the guards are?"
He smiled broadly. "Little D, you have no become stupid, hey? You remember maybe that show is everything in your father's business. Yes, that is where all the guards are, except for two guards that are still in the north side. One in the storage room, one outside, hey?"
Dara nodded. She had run into the storage room guard, but had apparently missed the outside guard. That was a little odd, but not unusual. There was a lot of ground to cover on the north side.
"You are doing what while your parents are busy?"
Dara smiled. "I'm going to go see my room."
"All right, little D. You remember maybe the way, hey?"
"Yes, Tannel. I remember maybe the way." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and left the kitchen the way she had come in. Tannel returned to his preparations.
The dim hallway was still empty. Dara had no trouble recalling which room was hers. She strode purposefully down the corridor until she reached the fourth door on the left from the far end. She keyed the door and it opened easily.
Memories poured around her as she gazed about the spacious room.


Daramis approached her dad, waving a flimsi. "Dad, I got top grades in my class," she proudly proclaimed.
Her father laughed, a deep booming laugh that never failed to send tingles down her back and swept her up in his arms. "Now how did you manage that, Little Bit? Your instructor is forever complaining that you don't pay any attention in class."
She grinned broadly as he set her down. "Class is boring. He reads the textbook. I can read it just as well as he can."
"I seem to recall your proving that," Hal Mcejo said with a chuckle. "The professor wasn't at all pleased when you turned the class into a reading circle."
"No, he wasn't. I don't care. That's one of the few lessons that the entire class aced the quiz the next day. Obviously they learned what he wanted them to learn."
He shook his head. "And you've got to learn to settle down, Daramis. You're forever breaking rules that weren't meant to be broken."
She looked him in the eye. "Some rules have to be broken, Dad. Otherwise things will never improve. You do it for a living."
He flinched slightly at that. "But the things you try just aren't done. You need to be a little more selective with your actions."
She sighed. "I'll try, Dad. Now, when do I get it?"
He feigned ignorance. "Get what?"
She rolled her eyes in exasperation. "Very funny. My droid. You said if I got top grades you'd give me a droid. When do I get him?"
A large grin spread across her father's face. "He's waiting in your room."
With a cry of delight, Dara sprang from her father's side and ran to her room. Laughing, he followed. Just before she opened the door, she paused.
"Wait a minute. How did you know I would pull top scores?"
"Daramis, there was never a doubt in my mind."
Her father's confidence in her abilities made her swell with pride as she opened the door and pounced upon droid waiting inside.


Dara moved inside the room and shut the door behind her. Tannel was right, as usual. Nothing had been touched. She smiled fondly as she looked at her collection of stuffed creatures. Her father had bought her one when he went away on business--if he remembered. About half the time he forgot, which was all right; he had been gone so frequently, she would have had had to get another room just to store them.


"Daramis!" her mother called. "Your father's home!"
Dara tossed her datapad aside--right at the exciting part of the bookchip, too--and rolled off her bed. She bounded across the room, ran into the hall, and nearly knocked her mother down in her excitement. She could hear her father talking to one of the guys, but she didn't care. Careening down the hall at breakneck speeds, she barreled into her father's outstretched arms.
"Dad!" she cried. "I missed you!"
He smiled and patted her head fondly. "I missed you, too, Little Bit. Here." He thrust a stuffed bantha at her. "Now run along. Feriwu and I have things to discuss."
Hurt flickered across Dara's face for a brief instant, but she quickly hid it behind a smile. "Thanks, Dad. Will I see you at dinner?"
He hesitated a moment. "No, Daramis. I think not. Your mother and I have a meeting with a client, and we'll be going out tonight. I'll have Tannel cook you something special."
This time the hurt showed a little longer, and Dara didn't smile. She turned away, instead. "Great. I'll be in my room if you need me." She started back down the hall, muttering, "which is about as likely as Corellia turning into a black hole." Her dad, thankfully, did not hear her. He would have had something to say about her "lack of respect." His attention was firmly set on what he was saying to Feriwu.
Dara tossed the stuffed creature on top of the pile with all the rest and returned to her bookchip.


There were stacks of bookchips in the corner. Dara walked over and looked through them. There were all her favorites: Little Lost Bantha Cub from when she was a child, Slaying Dragons from when she had first been enthralled with the Jedi, and several dozen novels, including Starships from Hapes, Lightsaber, Night of the Jedi, Ambassador to Death, Blaster Set on Kill, Hyperspace Murder, Credits in Advance, Night Glowrod, and Solo Flight, to name a few. She picked up a few of them and stuffed them into her pouch. They had been discontinued and were impossible to find.


"Daramis." Wanda Mcejo stood outside her daughter's door. "Daramis." She knocked. There was no point in trying to open the door. It was locked. It always was, and Dara had it wired in such a way that it thwarted any attempts to key an override. There was no answer. "Daramis!"
There was a muffled thud and footsteps, then a rumpled Dara appeared in the door, a datapad in her in her hand. "Yeah, Mom?"
"Get ready for dinner."
Dara blinked, looked at her chrono. Her eyes widened and she shoved her hand through her hair in an effort to smooth it down. "Can I eat in here?"
"No, Daramis. We have a client coming for dinner, and they're bringing their daughter."
"Do I know her?"
"I believe her name is Sharlotta."
Dara's mouth opened in horror. "Are you sure I can't eat in here?"
Wanda looked at her in exasperation. "No, Daramis. And I expect you to be on your absolute best behavior." She turned to go, then called over her shoulder. "Dress formal."
Dara slammed the door lock button and spun back into her room. She knew Sharlotta. They went to the same school, attended the same classes. She was one of the most stuck-up, snobbish girls Dara had met, and now she was expected to be nice! She would do it--to keep the peace between her and her mother. First day back at school, she would go right on ignoring her.
Dara opened her closet and chose a lovely blue silk dress, then strapped her holdout blaster on her left arm beneath the flowing sleeve. She brushed her hair and shook it out, then stuck a blue clip on the side to keep strands out of her face. She didn't bother to change her boots. Dara wasn't about to kill her feet with a pair of high heels. After slowly spinning in front of the mirror, she decided she was satisfied. Her mother, of course, would be horrified.
She went out into the hall and down to the kitchens. Maybe a quick visit with Tannel would prepare her for the evening.


Dara smiled at the recollection. Sharlotta had been as snobby as ever. She had pounced on the fact that the Mcejos had been catering to her parents and lorded it over Dara at school. Dara had put up with it as long as she could, then she pulled her aside and threatened her with bodily harm and a ruined reputation. A very pale Sharlotta had been more than willing to cooperate.
Dara moved to her closet. The clothing was not much smaller than what she wore now. She had reached her growth spurt early on and had been a very large teenager. She wasn't teased much, however. With her size came strength and agility, and she had been taught how to use them.


Daramis slammed her fist against the stiff punching dummy. It folded in around her fist and there was a snapping sound. The dummy faintly resembled a man and was made to feel like real flesh and bone when punched, kicked, or otherwise struck. Her instructor clapped twice, high praise.
"Very good, Miss Daramis." His words were very clipped, and his praise was hard-earned. "Now the kicks."
She ran through a series of kicks--side, roundhouse, front snap, and a few others--and earned a few words of encouragement. Her lesson was over after a few cool-down exercises. A quick thanks to her instructor and Daramis headed for the showers. She was dripping sweat after her weekly two and a half hour session. She worked at the techniques and did free weights an hour a day during the rest of the week.
Dara changed clothes and headed outside the public gym. Once again, her parents had offered to get her a private instructor, but, as with the school issue, Dara had opted to go with a public class. This time her parents had insisted, so they compromised. Instead of an instructor coming to the compound, Dara went into town, but she had one-on-one lessons, as opposed to a class setting. Dara had agreed. It was yet another excuse to get her away from the people at the compound. She knew perfectly well her parents had tagged her with a shadow, but there was little she could do about him. She had learned to pick him out wherever she was and had even spotted his substitute the few times he wasn't behind her.
Dara stepped on the street, her duffel bag over her shoulder. Her shadow tailed her about ten meters away. Her class had ended early today, due to the fact that her instructor was leaving for a three-day vacation that afternoon, so the transportation her parents had arranged was not waiting for her. Dara grinned. She would get to walk.
She set off down the street, sure her shadow was mad about her decision not to wait. He wouldn't stop her, though, and he wouldn't call her parents. In all the time he had been behind her, she had not seen him reach for his comlink, no matter what she did, and her parents never said a word.


Daramis reached her bed and sat down. It was as comfortable as she remembered. She looked at the bedside table and tears sprang to her eyes. It was a childhood holo of her and Cher'lindria. The blue-skinned Twi'lek looked genuinely happy. Now she was so strung out on spice she never knew what she was feeling. Dara considered taking the holo with her as well, then thought better of it. Some memories she didn't need.


"Daramis." Cher'lindria said flatly.
Thirteen-year-old Dara looked up from her book. "What?"
"Dara, why do you insist on reading? You're going to rot your brains out."
Dara frowned and set down the book. "I was reading about the Mystryl."
"Like that's gonna help you when you meet one."
Dara rolled her eyes. "What do you want?"
"Do you want to go for a ride?"
Daramis and Cher'lindria had just bought a pair of swoop bikes, and Cher was hot to ride them every chance she got.
After a long pause, Dara agreed. She set aside the bookchip and pulled on her boots. "Where are we going?"
Cher'lindria shrugged. "Oh, just out."
Dara frowned, but followed. She and Cher were still friends, but the Twi'lek had become more and more distant as her training progressed. Daramis supposed it was only natural. Her father had decided she would make the perfect assassin. Dara had been horrified, but Cher was thrilled with the idea. She had let it drop, although she still wasn't happy.
Now, at age seventeen, Cher'lindria had carried out four assassinations and was completely contented with her work. There were times when she was more happy than others, but she wouldn't answer when Dara questioned her.
They climbed on their bikes, informed the gate watch that they would be back in a couple hours, then gunned the engines. Dara glared at the guard who watched the barely-clad blue-skinned Twi'lek longer than appropriate. Cher simply smiled. Dara dutifully followed Cher for almost an hour before they reached a tiny alcove. Dara's eyes narrowed as she noticed another pair of speeders already parked. She pulled up.
"Cher'lindria," she demanded over the headset comlink they each wore in their helmets, "what is going on?"
Cher'lindria's voice was light as she swung around to face her friend. "Just some company, Dara. Couple of guys I met in town the other night."
Dara grew hot with anger. "No, Cher."
"What?"
"I said no. I'm not going with you. And you shouldn't go, either. I'm sure they're scum."
"You can't say that," Cher'lindria said vehemently. "You haven't even met them."
"And I'm sure their intentions are honorable, right?" She didn't even try to disguise the sarcasm and contempt in her voice.
Cher giggled. "Who cares?"
"You're hilarious, Cher. I'm not going."
A guy appeared in the entrance, a smile on his face. He was incredibly handsome. He yelled something Dara couldn't hear, but Cher obviously could. She flushed and waved at him to wait. "Come on, Dara. It'll be fun."
Dara twisted her back around so the nose pointed back toward the compound. "I'll see you later, Cher."
Cher said something in Twi'lek and turned away. Dara watched over her shoulder as she parked her bike next to the others and ran into the guy's arms. They disappeared into the alcove together.
Tears stinging her eyes, Dara headed back to the compound.


Dara heaved a sigh. Some memories were definitely better left unremembered. She looked around her room. It really was just as she had left it. There was even a jacket tossed over a chair and clothing strewn across the bed. She winced as she remembered the day she left.


"Daramis Sharii Mcejo!" Hal thundered. "Get in here!"
Dara calmly ignored him and continued folding clothes.
Buzz clanked into the room. "Daramis, your father wants to talk with you."
She glared at him. "I don't want to talk to him. It's not worth it. There are some things we'll never see eye to eye about. Like turning my best friend into an assassin and a spice addict. Like the Jedi. Like slavery."
A figure appeared in the doorway. Daramis, without turning her back, could sense his presence. "Go away."
Feriwu, a large, stocky man, stomped over to her. "Hal wants to see you," he growled, grabbing her shoulder.
She calmly disengaged her arm from his grasp and spun away. "Both of you can go chew on a blaster bolt," she bit out.
He tried to grab her again, but she knocked his arm away. Then his fist shot out. Dara knew it was coming, ducked, and slammed her own fist into his unprotected stomach. He doubled over with pain and Dara shoved him out of her room.
"And stay out, Feriwu!" She shut the door and locked it. Feriwu had never liked her. He did everything possible to get on her nerves, without making her mad enough to tell her father, but she knew he was scared to death of her.
"Daramis!" her father bellowed again, this time just outside her door.
Dara continued to ignore him. She shoved a final jumpsuit into the satchel and slung it over her shoulder. She stalked to the door and keyed it open.
Her father stood outside, red-faced and livid. "Daramis, you do not walk away when I am talking to you."
She smiled humorlessly. "Sorry, Hal. I did."
The use of his first name made him even more angry. "Daramis--"
She turned to her droid. "Buzz, go fire up the Ricochet. We're leaving."
"Daramis, you go back in your room right now!"
She looked at him calmly. "I will not stay in a place where assassination is condoned, murder approved, and slavery practiced. Unlike some people, I realize that there are some things that cross the line."
"Oh?" her father said sarcastically. "And who draws that line? CorSec?"
Dara squared her shoulders. "I'm not sure. But there is one, I'm sure. I'll find it."
"By training to be a Jedi?"
Fire flashed in her eyes. "Maybe. At least they don't deal in slaves. Just about anything is better than that."
Hal opened his mouth to say something, but Daramis brushed by him and walked down the hall. She had almost reached the door when her mother stopped her.
"Daramis, you're sixteen years old. You can't survive in the galaxy by yourself."
She shrugged. "Watch me. I'll think of something. Anything is better than staying here. You two have gone too far." She twisted around Wanda and out the door, slipping in one final dig. "Maybe I'll join CorSec."
"You are no longer my daughter, Daramis Sharii Mcejo!" Hal bellowed. "You are no relation to me. You are on your own!"
"Fine," Dara shot back. "I lost my parents a long time ago." She shut the door behind her, effectively cutting off her father's rantings. She headed for her ship at a fast clip, so absorbed with her thoughts that she didn't notice Tannel until he laid a hand on her shoulder.
"Little D," he cried. "Wait a minute, hey?" He was breathing heavily, having had to run to catch up. He thrust a package into her arms. "A little something from me. I'll miss you, Little D." He gave her a quick hug and hurried back inside.
Dara felt tears fill her eyes. She would miss Tannel. Then she ran up the ramp. It retracted behind her and Buzz fired up the repulsors. She stopped at her cabin to dump her stuff, then headed for the cockpit.


A single tear rolled down Dara's cheek. She brushed it away absently. Tannel had given her an assortment of her favorite foods, all he had had on hand. There was also a very pretty silver cape, long and flowy, with a note scrawled on a flimsi explaining it was a present he had been saving for her next lifeday.
Exhausted by the flood of memories and the fading adrenaline, Dara slumped on the bed and dozed.


"Daramis Mcejo?"
Dara nodded warily, looking over the silver-skinned humanoid that presented herself in front of the Corellian. She had just walked into the Silver Crescent and wasn't expecting to meet anyone. She was on a job hunt.
"Kuuy Daapa." She thrust out her hand.
Dara took it, and they shook.
"It's great to finally meet you," she said cheerfully, steering her toward the bar. The cantina was noisy and crowded. "I've heard a few stories about you."
Dara arched a skeptical eyebrow. "About me?"
"Well, maybe not you personally. You haven't been on your own long enough. Mainly about your parents."
Now Daramis was really surprised. A very select group of people knew about her parents. She narrowed her eyes. "What about them?"
Kuuy spread her hands and leaned against a stool. "Oh, nothing, really. Black Moon has been quiet for a couple months."
Suspicion bubbled up inside the young Corellian. "You know too much. I've got to be going." She started to move away, but Kuuy caught her hand.
"Don't go, Daramis. I didn't mean to scare you off. I just wanted to let you know I know what I'm doing." She pulled her back to a stool and ordered two flameouts from the bartender.
"All right," Dara said. "I'm convinced. What do you want?"
"I've got a job lead," Kuuy said, leaning forward. "It'll take a couple tricks to pull it off, and I don't think I can do it on my own. I'll need some help. Interested?"
"Maybe. Why ask me? You don't know me. Why not get someone you know you can trust?"
"A couple reasons, actually." Kuuy accepted the pair of drinks from the alien running the counter and pushed one over to Daramis. "First of all, I know you well enough. I've got my ear to the ground, and I've got some good contacts that know you. They say you're straight and that's good enough for me. Second, I don't know that many people I can trust to pull off this job properly." She thought for a second. "Correction: I don't know anyone that could pull it off." She flashed a rather mischievous smile. The third and main reason is that I wanted to meet the person who had the guts and morals to stand up to Hal and Wanda the way you did. It wasn't easy, I'm sure. I don't have that many friends, and I'm sure you don't right now, either."
Daramis looked at Kuuy silently for several moments, thinking hard.
"So," the girl said. "Are you in?"
A slow smile spread across Dara's face. "Yeah." She shook Kuuy's hand again. "I'm in."


"Little D."
She sat up abruptly at the sound of Tannel's voice, alarmed that she had been asleep. The blaster rifle dug into her side and she winced. "What?"
"Your parents are outside. Saying good-bye and hoping that they didn't offend, hey?" He smiled. "Hurry and go to the reception room. It is maybe better they don't meet you here. Too many memories, hey?"
"Yes," Dara agreed, following him out of the room. "Definitely too many memories."
They walked down the hall, through the kitchen and the staff's eating quarters, and into the south wing. There were many guards and other personnel, but Dara didn't recognize any of them. Many stared at her, and she could imagine their thoughts at seeing Tannel escorting a heavily-armed, dark-clad female to Hal and Wanda's reception room. She was about to go in when she spotted someone she did recognize. She caught sight of Dara as well, and her mouth formed an "o." Dara started to say something, but the blue-skinned Twi'lek spun on her heel and disappeared through a door. With a sigh, Dara entered the ostentatious reception room.
It was filled trinkets from all over the galaxy to prove how well-traveled Hal was, uncomfortable chairs to make the client want to conclude business and get to dinner faster, and wild art to show that Hal and Wanda were willing to take risks, or something like that. Opting not to sit, Dara stood in a corner at the back of the room, hand on her blaster, eyes watchful. Something in her stomach decided to turn cartwheels and somersaults. Dara studiously ignored it and listened to Tannel telling her father that there was someone in the reception room waiting for him, her father insisting that there couldn't be, and that he was tired anyway.
The voices drew nearer.
"I think maybe you want to see this person, Hal. You and Wanda both."
Hal heaved a sigh. "All right. It had better not take very long, and I'm not doing any more business tonight."
"No business," Tannel promise. "Memories."
She could imagine the look on Hal's face. "Have you been drinking, Tannel?"
Tannel laughed. "Go on, hey?"
The door opened.
Her hand tightened on her blaster, and she tried to forget that her father had wanted her, still wanted her, dead. Dara did not know how her mother felt.
Hal stood framed in the doorway, his eyes scanned the empty seats. Then his gaze focused on Dara and his expression hardened.
Wanda pushed past him. "Daramis?" she asked in a hushed, unbelieving whisper.
Dara nodded, unable to think of a suitable response.
Hal's eyes narrowed. "I thought I told you never to come back."
Dara stared back. "No. You didn't. You put an assassin on my trail, you disowned me, you cut me off from you, but you never said I couldn't come back."
They glared at each other for a moment. Dara half-drew her blaster. Hal's eye twitched. Dara didn't move a muscle. Hal quirked a smile, then burst out in a deep, booming laugh. "You came prepared, didn't you, Daramis?" His quick glance took in her dark apparel, the blaster rifle, the three blasters at her waist, and the extra charges clipped to the bandoleer.
She didn't smile. "Yes."
"Let go of the blaster, Daramis. I'm not armed, and no one will bother us."
Warily, Dara let the blaster slide back into the holster. She did not strap it down.
Sensing that some of the tension had drained, Wanda slipped from behind her husband and ran to her daughter, wrapping her in a warm embrace. "Oh, Daramis. I thought. . . . I never hoped. . . . I never even dreamed. . . ." She couldn't finish her sentences. A small smile crept across her daughter's face and she hugged her back.
Hal laughed again. "You learned well, Daramis. You look ready to tackle anything."
"I've been in the galaxy for eight years, Hal. Mustn't forget that."
He crossed the room to stand beside his wife, who released Dara. He thrust out his hand. Daramis took it gingerly. He shook his daughter's hand heartily, then stepped back.
"You're a Jedi, aren't you?"
"I was."
"We've heard stories-- Wait. What do you mean, 'was?' Aren't you still a Jedi?"
Dara shook her head slightly. "No. I lost my ability to control the Force. I can sense when others are using it, sometimes I can feel it, but I can't manipulate it."
An enormous smile spread across his face. "Does this mean we get you back?"
She shook her head. "Hal, I didn't leave because I wanted to be a Jedi. There were other reasons. I'm sure you remember. They're part of the reason you sent Cher'lindria to kill me, which, by the way, I thought was particularly cruel."
Hal ignored the statement. "If you're not a Jedi, then there's nothing to stand in your way. There is always room in this business for a bright young lady like yourself." He looked at her appraisingly. "You were taught well."
"There's not always room in a bright young lady for this business," she said. "I told you, I didn't leave just to become a Jedi. If that was all I had wanted, I could have gotten you to agree. But I notice that Black Moon still runs slaves."
Hal opened his mouth, then shut it again. He looked at her for a long moment, a smoldering anger coming back into his eyes. "Yeah. And I notice you still don't approve, and that you still haven't learned which rules to break and which rules not to."
Daramis tossed her hair. "I've learned. The problem is, Hal, the rules you don't want broken are the rules by which you make money, not necessarily rules that don't need to be broken. I didn't come to say this, but you should probably know. If I come across another Black Moon slave shipment, I'll do the same thing I did last time."
Hal's features were overcome with rage, and Dara knew he was remembering as well.


"Daramis." The precise voice of her droid brought her head up.
"What?"
"There is something you should see." He motioned to a computer read-out.
She leaned over. The ship in front of them, making a hyperjump change, had its IFF transponder going. Not a surprise. She read the name of the ship.
Black Skies.
Her eyes narrowed. "That's a Black Moon ship." She had kept up on Hal's organization as best as she had been able to. "A slave freighter."
Buzz confirmed her statement.
"Where are they going?"
"Exit vector suggests Nal Hutta."
Dara's face contorted with rage and she slapped at the controls. The laser sight appeared on the viewport and focused on the tail of Black Skies. "Open a comm channel."
"Right away."
A red light flashed. "Black Skies, this is the Nova." Dara had falsified her own IFF transponder just recently. "Cut your engines and prepare to receive boarders."
A laugh came through the comm speakers as mostly static. "Nova, you're very funny. Eat my dust."
Dara fired. The four lasers sped through vaccuum and chewed at the Black Skies tail section. That was where the hyperdrive was. The ship began to jerk around erratically, destroying its ability to jump into hyperspace.
"Black Skies, if you do not cut your engines immediately, I will be forced to disable you and call in reinforcements."
There was another laugh. "Reinforcements? What reinforcements could you have?"
As much as she hated it, it was the best way. "I'm putting in a request for a Star Destroyer. They'll be here shortly, but the stormtroopers with me aren't happy about waiting."
The voice sounded a little frightened now. "You a spook?"
A spook. Dara smiled. They thought she was a spy, or an undercover agent, transporting troops. "Classified info, Black Skies. Cut your engines." She lined up another shot, this time with a concussion missile.
"Don't shoot! We are powering down. You may come aboard."
Buzz looked at Dara. "Now what? Are you going?"
She shrugged and checked the charge on her blasters. "Why not?"
"They'll kill you."
"Not if I kill them first."


Daramis had killed them first and found two dozen female Twi'lek dancers in the back of the ship. She discovered one of them could fly a ship, and turned the Black Skies over to them. The tears of gratitude were almost more than she could take. Cher'lindria's face kept popping up in her mind.
"You could have gone far in this business, Daramis." Hal's features were tight and rigid.
"No. I couldn't have. I still have a conscience."
"Did you ever find your vaunted line? You're a smuggler, too, Daramis. You know what you're doing."
"I do know what I'm doing," Daramis replied calmly. "I'm not running slaves. I've found that at times the line is blurred, but it's always there. Slavery crosses it, just like I told you eight years ago."
Wanda looked from husband to daughter, then took a step back.
"So why did you come, Daramis? To tell me you'll continue to prey on my ships? To tell me that you want back into the family? Things will have to change before that happens."
"Yes, Hal. They will. But I'm not going to do the changing. I don't want back in. I wanted to see you and Mom. Things can go on like they have been, but I wanted to see you."
"No apology for storming off eight years ago?"
"No."
"No apology for thwarting my shipments?"
"No."
"No request for credits?"
She snorted. "No. I have plenty of my own, thank you."
"Then there's nothing else to say."
"I guess not." Dara hugged her mother again. "If you need to reach me, leave a message at this account." She handed him a scrap of flimsi with an automated message service number on it. There was no connection between it and her. She had had a friend set it up under a false name. The trail back to her was buried under so many layers that it was impossible to find. Hal stuffed it into his pocket with-out looking at it. Dara managed a small smile. "I'll expect a message about the same time Corellia turns into a black hole."
Hal opened his mouth, but Dara interrupted. "Don't say it, Hal. I'm an adult. You're an adult. Don't talk to me about respect. I've got plenty, and I give it where I see fit." She took a step toward the door. "Is Cher'lindria in the barracks?"
Hal shook his head. "She left."
Daramis blinked. "She was here not ten minutes ago."
"About a minute before I came back inside, she ran out and sprinted to her ship like something was chasing her. She hauled jets without a word to anyone."
"Oh." Dara was disappointed.
"You can leave by the front gate," Hal said. "I won't stop you, nor will anyone else. But things won't change that much between us, Daramis. As long as you insist on holding your point of view, you are no more related to me than Feriwu."
She blinked again, this time incredulously. "Is he still working for you?"
"Yes."
Daramis rolled her eyes. "I hope you know he's stealing from you quite regularly. If I were you, I'd get another assistant. Good-bye." She strode swiftly out the door, leaving her father slack-jawed at her statement and her mother teary-eyed at her sudden arrival and equally sudden departure.
It took her a quarter of an hour to get back to the Ricochet. It was a quiet walk, full of thought. The meeting had gone about as planned--perhaps a little better, since no one had shot at her. As her ship came into sight, she thought of the day her parents had given it to her. It had been her sixteenth birthday, just four months before she had left. She had been growing more and more frustrated and upset with her father and the way he did things. As usual, he had tried to buy her off to keep the peace. That time it hadn't worked, but the ship served her well.
The ramp extended for her as she reached the large silver starship. She walked into the cockpit moments later and was glad to see the her two silver friends already there.
"Buzz, get us out of here. Take us to Coruscant." She beckoned to the other as the droid complied, and the two walked into Dara's private cabin.
Kuuy stared at her for several minutes after Dara flopped on her bed.
"How did it go?"
Dara groaned. "Don't ask."
"That bad?"
She sat up. "Actually, it wasn't terrible. I have no blaster wounds, so I guess you could say it was a success. But I didn't get anywhere with Hal. Wanda was glad enough to see me, but Hal definite-ly put a damper on her. He was very adament that things are going to stay the same. He doesn't want me in the picture, and he's still sore about the slaves."
Kuuy sat beside her and gave her a long hug. "Cheer up," she said, wiping a tear from her friend's eye. "I don't want to kill you."
Dara laughed and fell back onto the bed. "Wait until tomorrow morning, when the last of the adrenaline wears off. You might change your mind."


12-27-02