You Took My Daughter WHERE? (Fable Merrill)

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

'...you took my daughter WHERE?"

"Void station?"

"...oh. Well, that's alright, then."

"They have an awesome shockboxing pit. Everyone is naked."

Jorus offered his sister's...surrogate daughter?...a slow blink.

"Mother taught me the most effective ways to disable a group of attackers. Is that what you mean?"

"...my sister taught you what?"

"Apologies, sir. She mostly had me model leather. I was referring to my genetic progenitor, Fabula Caromed."

He thought vividly of Tobias and Jethro, wherever they were now. "That name is...wait, is that the one my scumball cousins keep talking about? The one in the holomags?"

"Yessir."

"...back up. Why did my sister clone a centerfold?"

"Her birthname is Cavataio. It might be easier for you to do a holonet search, sir."

Another slow blink. Feth. Feth. Feth. "One of THOSE Cavataios?"

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

It was all Fable could do to reply with a polite, professional, and ultimately tractable nod that was as much a way to bow her head as a show of deference - and what a show it was. He was, after all, the brother of her creator, the woman she'd been made to serve (and had ultimately failed). It only stood to reason that she had failed him, and his daughter, as well. Submission came as naturally to Fable as breathing, save in the depths of a tantrum - and it didn't help that half her face was swollen and bruised as though she'd been attacked by a bear with very dull claws, very recently. Her be-slinged arm added to the image of a young woman who had had a very, very rough day. "The situation grew out of my control, sir." She apologized meekly, twisting her hands on her lap. "If you'll allow me to explain...."

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I'd just come out of warp on my way to Taris, and set my autopilot. Decided to, you know. Check my holomail. Stuff like that.

Spacebook was a wonderful little corner of the Holonet. Social media in general. It allowed Fable to watch as the lives of the people she cared about went on, without the inconvenience of burdening them with her presence. It was through this medium that she'd found a young woman listing her creator, Rave Merrill, as her aunt. Fable had been unable to control her rampant, impolite curiosity, and had sent the young woman a message, explaining that she was, in a way, her 'cousin'. It wasn't entirely a lie - Rave HAD created her, although Fable doubted the woman used much, if any, of her own genetic code in the process. She was simply too much like the woman she now considered her mother for that theory to hold water.

To my delight, she was on Ord Mantell - where I was planning to stop for refueling, and to take in the sights. We agreed to meet for lunch and trade stories at some local place, Dingo Darr's.

If there was one thing Fable was largely unimpressed with, it was gimmicks. Her mothers were both seasoned warriors who stressed a wide understanding of the fundamentals rather than potentially-exploitable specialization, she'd been programmed by a woman who dabbled in everything from sorcery to leatherworking to business management. So when she'd been directed to a Chop Shop/Barbeque, Fable prepared to be disappointed. They proudly proclaimed that they specialized in ribenes, and her disappointment solidified into a small ball of dread in her belly. Not only a gimmick, but not even real food. Ribenes were the bastard child of soy and styrofoam, in Fable's opinion, not that she knew how to cook or was too good for the poor-spacer's staple food.

Stupid girl. What right have you to pass judgement? Fake food is about right for a fake person.

I thought I'd just spend a couple hours learning about... somebody I might come to regard as a cousin. Or maybe a little sister - I apologize for being presumptuous, sir. It isn't my place to be. So, then...

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

Seriously, Dad, it's not that big a deal. We had some food and made fun of people. Who? Just Jedi. Nobody important.

"No, for real, I totally invented the 'ride the dragon' joke. That was all me. Plus I hear my dad got a peek at his conditioner bills once, and...Flim, I'm gonna have to call you back. My cousin's here."

Young woman with the mannerisms and contusions of a really tough girl, coming right in. She looked slightly disgusted, as if Dingo Darr's Chop Shop (which shared a tabled area with Karkin' Ribs, a wondrous place) was beneath her. Well, feth that. On the other hand, the girl's focus was entirely on Mara Merrill, so she couldn't be that bad. Mara straightened up and made eye contact, then jerked her chin up in a 'hey, howya doin' sort of gesture.

Seriously, nobody. You could try believing me for once.

She hastily cleared her datapad - Grandmaster Threeway Exposed! Raaf-Grayson-Halcyon Love Nest Found on Ossus! Raaf Denies It All! PLUS Seraphina's Worst Fashion Moments yet - and made it obvious that there was an empty seat across from her.

Like I said, we hit it off. We're family, right?

"What you lookin' at?" Half friendly, half belligerent, all Ord Mantell. Best way to deal with a grownup, in Mara's extensive experience. The friendly took the edge off, the belligerence said you wouldn't be pushed around, and the invite to a seat did its thing too.

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

It was actually kind of amazing, sir. If I might say, your daughter was very well raised.

What a little jerk. She looked like she'd just walked off the set of one of those orphan-turned-thief-turned-protagonist stories that seemed to never go out of fashion. A tomboy from head to toe - with the dirt and oil caked under her nails to prove it. Doubtlessly, her knees were more scab than skin under those trousers. Fable, who had enough trouble managing her day-to-day life let alone the intricate social and fashion standards of women in her biological peer group, decided right there that she liked Mara a great deal. In spite of, or maybe because she was a little jerk.

"Maybe fourty kilos of girl and grease." Fable replied with a sheepish smile, her hands sliding into the pockets of her ubiquitous leather coat. Merrill-made, it was. Or at least designed. Maybe using her contacts to get Mara one would further the developement of their possible friendship. If Mara thought that Fable had the presentation of a tough girl - and she was, indeed, durable - than her voice completely dispelled the illusion. Even in a friendly sense, she sounded tentative and unsure.

Since we were just getting to know each other, I thought maybe that food would be the best option. In a public place, of course. We talked a little bit about Miss Rave, and about ourselves.

Half an hour later, the girls were sharing a plate of hot, messy ribs and had a wide collection of emptied pop bottles. Fable, who's exposure to sugar could be explained as a passing familiarity with the concept of the substance, was busily translating the euphoric rush of food, processed sweetner, and companionship into animated hand gestures while she told a story. "...SO! The Wookie is going on and on at the end of the bar about how humans can't POSSIBLY learn Wrrushi, because of their size? Mother's having NONE of it, because she knows he's making fun of us for asking. So she decides to scoop the Wookie up like, in her arms. He's TWICE her size, and she just PICKS HIM UP. Naturally, he LOSES his mind!" Fable laughed, waving a rib vaguely. "His partner, the sketchy-looking guy? Steps in to break it up, but decides to go for easier prey.

Nothing illicit or untowards, sir. I swear.

"Anyway, after he takes a swing at me - barely enough to knock one of my teeth loose - I grab him by the colllar, like this?" Fable demonstrated by reaching forward and grabbing the air. "And I bounce the guy off of the hull of our ship to knock some sense into him." She thrust her hand forward to show. "He comes back swinging, so what else can I do? Mom's dealing with the Wookie, so push the guy against the ship and pow! Drop him with a swift shot to the belly. He starts throwing up things he hasn't even eaten yet!" Fable laughed, shaking her head. "Oh, stars. It was completely disgusting. That has to be, like, maybe the third worst fight I've ever been in, just because of that single moment. I had to wash my clothes four times just to get that greasy Rodian smell out of them."

I try to set a good example as best as I can.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

Girl talk, Dad. About, uh...woman things.

Nothing like an animated conversation partner to get the blood pumping. And, in this case...

"OK, that's flat-out sick. Beats mine -- but lemme get to the good part. So Beyyr had the fether in a headlock, like a straight-up Wrruushi headlock, and it turns out he's got a lightsaber. The fether, not Beyyr. And it's a dual-phase and I sort of bumped the switch, so there's like eight feet of lightsaber waving around, except he can't get a good angle while a Wookiee is ripping his head off, and that's when I peg him in the nuts with a datapad." She shoved the datapad across the sauce-stained table, treating Fable to a glimpse of a lightsabre-scarred casing and The Daella-Diana Secret: Episode X. "Then he starts wailing about how the Force shall set him free, he's just coughing half the Sith Code while Beyyr's choking him and I've just nutted him, and then his lightsabre hits the sprinklers-"

So I wanted to bring her here so you could meet her, 'cause Mom said we could have my friends over for dinner.

"You've got your own ship? What kind is it? Where's it docked? How big's the tank? What hyperrating? What kinds of guns?"

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

"It's just an old XR-95. It's mostly gutted." Fable explained as she paid the bill. Mara liked ships, Fable had one, it was a forgone conclusion that the two would be introduced. "I picked it up on the cheap because it's the same model my mom flies around, but I basically had to gut all the creepy bounty-hunter stuff that came with it. It's supposed to get up to a one-and-half rating, but most days it's lucky to get one-point eight." She apologized as they left the Chop-Ribs shop. She didn't mind the gimmick so much, anymore.

But we got a little waylaid, sir. Space is a big place, you know?

"Oh, hey - look." Fable called out from the cockpit, just as her punished old junker broke orbit and thrummed in complaint in preparation for warp. Music was blaring, Fable's way of dulling out all the 'I need expensive maitenance' sounds the ship liked to throw her way. "Mara. Void Station is kind of on the way. Have you ever been? I bet we could catch a wicked shockboxing match, if we make good enough time."

Not that she'd be participating. No sir. There was no way she was going to let her little cousin watch her get the snot beaten out of her for chump change. They'd sit in for a match at one of the legal, cleaner establishments, then she'd take Mara to her parents to meet them, as well. No sweat. Simple, easy.

...And things don't always go as you plan.

It stopped being simple and easy about the time they came out of warp near Void Station, and the XR-95's beleagured warpdrive gave a final-sounding KLUNK of misery, marking it's passage from this world to shoddy machine hell. Suddenly, that chump change prize Fable had mentally decided she didn't need was looking like the only way to be the adult and get Mara back to her parents. Hopefully, she'd be able to get a last-minute slot in one of those legal, clearner establishments.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

Then the hyperdrive just needed a little tuneup, nothing Mom hasn't shown me a hundred times. Totally chill.

"Well, it's shot. Like, I could drop this thing down a grav well and it wouldn't be worse off." Mara wiped grease and hyperdrive coolant off her hands with a dubious rag, then clambered up out of the XR-95's engine pit. "I'm pretty sure I could get it limping again, we're talking class fifteen tops. Even on the Mara-" Yeah, that's right. "-we'd never make it anywhere good within the week. And by 'good' I mean 'somewhere we can make port that my folks won't flip out about."

We needed some parts, and I remembered you saying how many friends we had on Void Station, and how it was a great place to get refit.

"We should totally both fight. I can fight. For real, I can. I'm scrappy, and maybe there's an Ugnaught or something. And Dad doesn't know, but I tried his shockboxing gloves and it wasn't much worse than grabbing the wrong wire."

But since Silk packed up and the Feds took over -- no, it was really chill, I swear, no troops or nothing -- I couldn't find any of our folks that had what we needed. We had to, uh, get a little barter capital.

"Look, worse comes to worst you can take off your shirt or something. There's gotta be some scumball Fed willing to spot us a hyperdrive with the right distraction. And they call themselves Techno Union now, so they gotta have hyperdrives."

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

"No, nonono. Absolutely not are you ever going to get punched in the head for money around me." Fable insisted with uncharacteristic insistence. She did what she did because it fufilled some nasty little urge lingering in her from all the hell-mucking, survivor-guilting, war-goddess-mothering she'd been through, but even she knew that it was no lifestyle to introduce a young girl to. No chance in hell. But it wasn't like she could leave Mara on the ship, either. "You can come with me, but you're not fighting." Fable comprimised with a slightly more nervous smile.

Thankfully, I had some contacts there, too. I started asking around to see if anyone could help us out.

<As I live and breath, who walks through my door!> A squat, purple-faced near-human bookie squawked in accented Huttese, sitting upright behind the ever-so-deliberately imposing desk in his cigar-smoky office. It'd required a bit of convincing from Fable for the bouncer to let her and Mara into the club - but it wasn't like there was much of anyone IN the building at this hour. No, the excitement would come later, along with the night crowd. Right now, it was just a couple career alocholics half-heartedly listening to some has-been band churning out what had once been a catchy pop tune. The general sleeze of the club made it sound something more like a dirge, somehow. <If it isn't Fatallica. What, you get a kid and realize you're not above this work after all?>

Fable wrinkled her nose slightly. <This is my cousin... Kristin. We're in a pinch, Kreelda.> She explained tensely. <And according to Tethes, you're the only show in town tonight. I want in.>

<What of it?> He chuckled dryly. He knew why she was there, he couldn't help drawing out the moment. <What makes you think I'm going to just LET you back on stage?>

<Because I fill seats.> Fable insisted. <Look, I'll work at a discount, in apology for the short notice. I only need enough to get my Vector into Levantine territory on a reasonable schedule.> She offered.

<Fine. But you don't win, I don't pay.> Kreelda hissed, rolling his cigar over in his mouth. <And you wear da mask.>

I was just glad they were willing to help. The Galaxy isn't so bad if you ask nicely.

And that was how, just a few hours after meeting the niece of her creator and possible cousin, Fable got to bear the dubious honor of revealing what she'd once done for a living.

<LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! Please, welcome back to the ring... FAAAAAAATALLICA!> An announcer harped, as the lights began to flash. Kreelda's miserable little club was filled with spectators and, in the front of the ring, sat those invited by the fighters in the main event. Which meant Mara got to sit next to some twitchy blue guy come to watch his girlfriend beat up a strange woman.

Fable strug into the stage amidst a chorus of cheerful boos and hisses. Aside from the crackling electrical gauntlets on her hands, Fable faced this crowd in little more than what might be politely called lengirie and a dark red domino mask, looking like a teenager's idea of a dominatrix. She'd drawn the short stick about a year ago, and was a heel to her opponent's face - it wasn't that the competition wasn't real, as it absolutely was. But the crowd liked a bit of story to go with their girls-beating-each-other-up, and it was easier to make up fake names and albibis than give a bunch of creeps their real name.

The beating she was about to take was almost preferable to the palpable embarassment she felt as she half-heartedly threatened the crowd in stripper heels.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

She put her foot down, too. She said no way in Hell was I fighting, but I could watch, just like I watched you sparring with Ijaat that one time. What you mean, it's not the same thing? You were fighting for fun, she was fighting so we could get back here. Couldn't trust the comms, it's Techno Union space. That's why I didn't call in. And we didn't use our own names, either, plus we had masks on, so no worries there. Plus Fable helped me with my Huttese homework.

There was, regrettably, no mask that Mara could get her hands on. Unnoticed in the crowd, she tied a bandanna over her face. An elbow clipped her in the head and she fell hard, apropos of nothing -- Fable had barely started fighting.

Mara bit the Gran who'd elbowed her. He chucked her like a thermal detonator. And thus did Mara D'Lessio Merrill make her boots-first introduction to the scintillating world of shadowport lucha libre.

She was very protective and made sure to keep me safe all the time.

Fable's fist met an indeterminate face, and blood spattered across Mara's forehead. Roars filtered out of the crowd: I didn't say send in the dwarf! Get the Ewok in there already! Give'er the chair! THE CHAIR!

The bruises? I tripped. Uh, a couple times.

Minimal, deniable Force-pulls dragged faces and sensitive bits onto her fists, elbows and knees, just like Chloe had taught her. Mara applied Force-assisted grapple-throws to wrestlers or crowd members -- some kind of a brawl was brewing, local tensions maybe, she couldn't have triggered all this. And just about everyone half-pulled their punches in confusion. Mara was not so charitable.

It was awesome. You'd really have liked it. Fable is great. She even gave me some pointers on hand-to-hand.

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

I'll admit, it got a little rowdy. Void Station has little kerfluffles all the time, sir.

Fable's head snapped back after Celestina's potshot cost her likely a concussion. How dare that blue queen take advantage of the interruption to try and end the match with a cheap haymaker?

But I kept the situation under control.

As Mara scrambled around, beating the ever-living daylights into a stage-seasoned Ewok 'manager', Fable registered two things. Somebody she was supposed to be protecting was being harmed, and that she, herself, had been hit. Game on. Howling with fury, Fable took a heavy jab to one shoulder to close the distince between herself and Celestina, then peppered the taller woman's abdomen with quick blows that likely woudn't have fazed a combat-athlete, were they not wearing shock gauntlets. Celestina, who'd worked with 'Fatallica' before knew when the showmanship was over.

What had started as an athletic display was now little more than a knock-down, drag-out fight between two nearly-naked, gorgeous women with a child and an ewok scrambling around their ankles.

I tried to show all the decorum and grace expected of my age...

Somebody threw in a chair. Game on. Fable shoulder-checked Celestina back, caught the chair as it descended, and took a moment to appreciate as the crackling electricticy of her gauntlets thrummed along it's metallic frame. Only a moment, though, before she brought the whole thing down on Celestina's head with a savage howl of triumph, one eye swollen shut and bleeding heavily, the rest of her in comparable shape.

...along with the restraint that a trained fighter should desmonstrate when facing mere thugs...

Fable then moved to her second target - the Ewok Mara was busily man-handling. While she had no doubt the girl could take care of the furry fighter on her own, she needed a quick and immediate vent for her still-pulsing rage. Shouting something that sounded a little like 'MARDAGEBBACK!', she stepped forward and golf-swang the electrified chair, scooping the Ewok up the way a chef might flip a pancake with a spatula. The Ewok had a moment to give a startled, airborne 'Yarb?!' before Fable completed the heave-ho motion by swinging the chair back down, and bouncing him off the mat, rendering him swiftly unconcious and likely in need of immediate medical aid.

...so that she'd learn that one's skill in combat is not a toy, but something to be used responsibly and in self-defense.

<AAAAND THE WINNER BY DUAL-KNOCKOUT, FAAAAATALLICA AND THE TEEN TERRORIZOOOOOR!> The announcer called, as Mara and Fable stood in the middle of the blood-splattered ring, between a groaning near-human woman and an incapacitated Ewok. Caught up in the moment, Fable whipped her gloves off and yelled a triumphant expletive into the crowd, then hauled Mara onto her shoulder to share the literal spotlight with her. The adulation of a crowd is a heady, intoxicating thing.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

She was a great example. It was over really quick, and we made some new friends.

"THE TEEEEEEN TERRORIZERRRRR!" they shouted, and Mara shouted along, clinging to Fable's hair for balance. Adulation. Respect. Reinvention. Achievement.

This, she decided, was what adulthood was all about.

And once we got the parts installed, we tried to come right home.

The hyperdrive was a Gozanti model, pre-Dark Age and awkwardly tuned, but a darn sight better than the gently steaming hulk she'd hauled out with cargo repulsors. Mara shoved the old engine through the XR-95's halls to the ramp. The downside of being THE TEEEN TERRRORIZERRRR was that everything else was less exciting, even moving a quarter ton of electronics through the air with one finger and a grin -- a favorite pastime. Still fun, though, and pretty much her speed considering the bruises. Fable hadn't stopped apologizing for letting her fight, even though she'd done her level best to keep Mara out of it at every possible turn. There was no rhyme or reason to her cousin's apologizings, Mara had decided. Best to just roll with it and be firm about, you know, reality. Like the Gran who'd chucked Mara in the first place. So really it wasn't anyone's fault, and besides, it had been awesome.

Nar Shaddaa is just on the way home, more or less. We only stopped for gas and a snack. It had been fifteen thousand lightyears and we were getting sleepy. Didn't want to crash at the wheel. And Miktik had told me about this one little place to stop in, and we figured we could, uh, get the comms patched up so I could totally call home.

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

Mara's really something with a wrench, by the way. She really fixed up my old ship. I was impressed!

She was sick. She was dying. Her illness was shame, and her symptoms were all of them. Ordinarily, Fable would have been watching in rapt fascination as somebody made the magic, glowing things that made her ship move work again, but she was busily not trying to throw up all over the place between inadequate apologies. Her first outing with Mara, and she'd wound up half-naked in a shockboxing match that Mara herself had been literally thrown into? She no longer wanted to meet the brother of the woman who'd made her, convinced he'd kill her just on principle. He'd be able to discern her guilt at a glance. And then he'd tell her mothers, who would likely be piercingly disappointed.

Her life was over. This was it. She'd had a good run - all seven years of it - but now she was done for. She could feel herself imploding, barked another apology to Mara, and then threw up in a trash bin. There was no way this little outting could get any more out of her control than it already had, though.

And then they tried to stop in at Nar Shadda.

There was a little weird space-weather, I'll admit. My Vector got a little more...dinged up than usual when we started drawing in on Nar Shadda.

"Hey, Mara? You okay back there?" Fable asked, craning around in her seat to try and peer into the depths of her ship. With any luck, Mara was taking a nap or something. With FABLE'S luck, she was restructuring something that likely couldn't handle the little savant's tinkering. She didn't get a chance to figure out which, unfortunately.

<Unmarked XR-95 Vektoorr class. Joo haf been chooosen to undergo a rrrrandom toll collectiooon.> A slimy voice hailed over the comms. Fable spat a curse under her breath and swung around in her seat, scanning the ship that was bearing down on them. It was faster, newer, and better armored. This was... bad news. Time to bluff, because she sure as heck didn't have any spare coin.

<Under who's authority? Last I heard, the Hutts didn't like to discourage the business coming IN to Nar Shadda with tolls...> She reasoned cautiously.

She was answered with a laser blast across the starboard side. That cleared up the mystery - these were suicidally desperate pirates. What kind of loot they thought they'd get from her was anyone's guess. Thankfully, though she'd scrapped the Force Cage and Cells in the old XR-95, Fable had kept all the stock weaponry. No more calling out - she got on the shipwide intercom. "Fable? I'm sorry to bother you, but... are you better at gunnery or piloting?"

Fable was barely competent at either, and far from skilled enough to do both at the same time.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

And we hardly saw any Red Ravens at all.

The impact was like a fingerprint -- laser cannon, subcapital grade but still nasty, right through the shields on the '95. Mara broke into a run as the shot knocked the inertial dampeners out of alignment. Every maneuver knocked her off-balance. She stumbled into the cockpit. "Standard Corellian model controls, stock guns -- I better take this one. Movemovemovemovemove."

She all but shoved Fable out of the pilot's seat, and scrambled to strap in. Fable had said the magic word.

Pilot.

Two fire-linked, paired laser-ion cannons. Four cannons total, forward facing. Multipurpose launcher, loaded with...flares. Well, better than nothing, but warheads would have been nice. The two quad cannons needed gunners, so they were out -- she had few illusions as to Fable's likely competence with quad lasers. But four cannons and a flare launcher, and a ship not that much slower than the pirate vessel: Mara could work with this.

She almost said something like your turn to stumble around my ankles with an Ewok, but Fable would have taken it very hard indeed.

The turbulence wasn't bad either. Took a little while to deal with it, but not bad at all.

There was a way to make this ship faster, fast enough to match the raider. That way involved power reduction. In between jinks and swoops and gunnery, she cut power to the quad lasers. Then the comms, then the internal lights, then half the inertial dampeners and artificial grav projectors...then the shields. A cannon blast chewed a long gash along the port flank and she went with it, slamming the '95 into a flat spin. Four cannons slammed into the pirate's bridge...followed by a quartet of flares. Another full spread of flares blinded the gunners, and all the while, she dialed back relative momentum with her feet and held down the trigger for the cockpit-controlled weapons. Ion cannons didn't care about the armor.

Five minutes later, it was all over.

But we had to set down for gas anyway.

The towers of nightside Nar Shaddaa rose up to meet them as the '95 cut through smog.

"Well, there's good news and bad news. Good news is, we lost their buddies. Bad news is, I ran us at flank speed too long, and I'm not liking the noises coming out of the back end." A fart joke came to mind. Incongruously, she giggled somewhat.

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

Passing up the controls to Mara was likely the best possible thing Fable could have done. The girl did things with her ship that Fable could barely understand, for the most part - the rest was completely astounded bewilderment. It wasn't unlike when she sparred with [member="Fabula Caromed"] who, despite having biologically the same body as she did, used hers to smash tanks recreationally a devastate capital ships professionally. Fable hated feeling useless, but for the most part, she was. The only thing worse than a harsh truth was willful ignorance, after all.

She cursed her bad luck to be born in an age where the pirates hadn't simply teleported aboard her ship or something so she could have knocked them senseless, herself.

It was really a quick stop, all things said. Sure, the locals were a little mercenary...

<No! No, no, no. I will not be taken to the cleaners by some back-alley fly-by-night dingus!> Fable seethed, pacing the lobby of the mostly-legitimate business they'd stopped in at. As it turned out, the credit of a Mandolorian clan didn't mean much to a nowhere-dealing scrap guy, but he was the only person in this hemisphere who had the parts her piece-of-crap Vector needed to get airborne again. <Will not. Cannot!>

Luckily, the guy was busy in the back making a phone call, and Fable's complaints were heard by little more than her little cousin and a rusty little mouse droid.

But negotiation is a skill everyone has to learn eventually, right?

A towering man covered in scars, sporting an ugly-looking prosthetic arm and patchwork bounty hunter armor stormed through the entrance of the junk shop. "MAR-NAAAY! I'm BACK. You got my parts, yet?!" The grizzled man barked irritably - more the tone of an exasperated sibling or friend than an unhappy customer. He took one look at Fable and Mara, turned white as a sheet, tried to back through the door he'd come through, but wound up splaying himself against the wall in terror.

"Y-You!"

"...me?" Fable replied, bewildered. She glanced at Mara, putting a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Us?"

"Cah-cuh, cuh...Cavataio! She-devil!" He stammered dumbly.

Fable didn't even get a chance to explain that she wasn't, before the shopkeeper returned and gave his companion a puzzled look. "Yo, Gragni. The heck is wrong witcha?"

Gragni pointed an accusatory finger at the girls. "Don't you know who they are?!" He screeched. "That's Fabula Cavataio, the woman who ripped my blasted arm off like it was an afterthought!" He hissed. "She's not human, she's a feth-spawned siege weapon!" He turned his attention to Mara. "And that girl?! She's a fething MERRILL, you lunatic! As in the ODF Captain, Jorus Merrill! Do you have any idea how many crimelords her family has ripped apart?! Just because?!"

As it turned out, my family had enough credit by reputation to get us what we needed with a promise to repay them swiftly.

Fable straightened her back, puffed out her chest, and affected the demeanor of the woman she'd spent the past 6/7ths of her life emulating. Fabula at rest wasn't much different from Fable, but the mother's anger - and even annoyance - tended to burn quieter and more intensely than the daughter's. She gave Gragni a stern glare, then swivled swiftly to Marni. "I am sorry for the inconvenience, but he is correct." She informed him pointedly. "And now that we've been identified, I'll have to dispose of you both. My apologies."

Marni didn't look too convinced, until Gragni screeched in fear and fell to the ground, throwing aside his rifle and begging for mercy. Aparently, the man had a bit of a reputation for being tough, but even he wasn't going to stand against two names like that. Or even call their bluff. "Whoa, whoa!" Marni hissed, bringing his hands up in surrender. "Look, this was just a misunderstandin'! We'll take your credit a-and I'll throw in a discount!"

"A heavy discount." Fable corrected.

"I'll take it as a loss, an' keep my mouth shut!" Marni promised eagerly. "Jus' - I ain't lookin' for no trouble, alright?!"

Fable glared at him, as though considering this, then picked a pair of cold drinks from a cooler by the register and added them to the counter alongside her order form. "...we'll take these, too." She added flatly. "Have the parts at my XR-95 within the hour. You'll recieve payment in a week."

Never before was Fable so glad she flew the same model ship as her mother.

As it turns out, if you're just the right level of nice, people will bend over backwards to help you!

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

Fable tutored me in, like, diplomacy and shavvit. What? Beyyr says it all the time; so what if it's in Shryiiwook?

"That...was...awesome. I've never been recognized like that before. And you! That's so sick that you got mistaken for your mom by someone whose arm she ripped off. We're getting milkshakes."

Then we had milkshakes.

"You really don't look all that much like her, y'know," said Mara offhand, slurping a burbleberry shake vigorously. "Your mom, I mean, the time I met her. I was younger, but I'm pretty sure I remember. You're nicer and she's, like...mommish. Even if she talked like my mom was her mom, which I guess makes me your...aunt kinda? Apart from Aunt Rave sort of being your mom too, which makes us first cousins more or less. But yeah."

And then we came straight home.

"You ever see a Cyborrean battle dog?"

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Mara D'Lessio Merrill"]

The tangled net thickened, but not for Fable. She might have figured her mom was a big deal, and had a dim idea of it. But that her mom had met the Merrills before, or that they were a notorious family? She'd not a clue. And frankly, after that little stunt, she didn't care to think about it too much. Her place in the Galaxy was already more than Fable could really deal with, let alone a possible extended family or clan alliances like her mother sometimes fussed over. No, she had a milkshake and pleasant company - thinking hard could wait. Possibly indefinetely.

If someone were to tell Fable that her and Mara's adoptive mothers had met and shared milkshakes together the first time they'd met, too, she might have had the good sense to sound amused or affect astonishment, but it would have been feigned. The Force was everywhere, and milkshakes were delicious. Especially chocolate.

"Let's stick with cousins?" Fable suggested cheerfully.

And that was really it, sir. We had milkshakes, and some burgers to go while the repairs finished. Mara said everything checked out okay. They did a good job.

"Do not make me have to return, gentlemen." Fable warned the mechanics sternly, once Mara had given the Faux Pilgrim a green light. She adjusted her jacket and squared her shoulders, giving them a withering glare that spoke of dismissal quite clearly.

We didn't have any issue in the interrim, thankfully.

"You're crazy. Mad Jedi Twelve is a much better film than Enter the Krayt." Fable insisted with a warm grin a couple hours later, comfortably sharing the cockpit with Mara, a bag of ice over her now grotesquely-swollen eye, a greasy burger in the other. "For one, the saber play is more authentic. Secondly, Gormin Reedus spends half the movie shirtless, fighting time ninjas."

I guess that pretty much brings you up to speed...

"...sir." Fable explained, sitting back-straight eyes-down beside her new favorite cousin as she waited for him to pass down judgement. Dread fluttered in her heart - she fully expected to be cast out like the refuse she was. After all, Rave didn't seem to have a use for her, why would the only other adult Merrill she'd met? She HAD a family, for crying out loud - two mothers who loved her for some lunatic reason. Seeking out Mara had just been greedy. It's been hubris! And now she'd be punished with it. "I am... sincerely sorry for any worry my foolish actions might have caused you, sir. Or Mara." Fable added for good measure.

 

[Mara D'Lessio Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

Just girl stuff. For real this- Uh, for real. Plus I practiced instinctive navigation.

Some people had talents for finding bounties; others had talents for scouting new hyperlanes; Mara D'Lessio Merrill had a talent for finding greasy food. Anywhere.

She slopped down the last half of her second burger. "Oh, were those man-nipples? I couldn't tell with the holocam jiggling all over the place. Mad Jedi Twelve also has fething terrible music, and what was going on with Gormin Reedus' moustache? It's like he was playing a prison guard or something. No, just no. Enter the Krayt is a classic for a reason."

So we got home all safe and sound...

"...Dad. And don't let her apologize again, she didn't do anything wrong." She half-glared at Fable. "And I wasn't worried. It was all a piece of ryshcate."

 

[Jorus Merrill]

[member="Fable Merrill"]

The two girls' excessive story ran down, and Jorus started seriously wishing for a drink. His wonderful, beautiful daughter was absolutely full of crap. His...step-granddaughter? Niece?...was obviously sincere and just as obviously full of crap in an equal degree. That XR-95 was shot to hell and he would bet serious money that the guts of it didn't match their story unless he did some serious reading between the lines. They'd gone from Ord Mantell to Void Station to Nar Shaddaa to Oswaft Station here over Laekia, a distance of something like a hundred thousand light-years. And they hadn't called in until they were leaving Red Raven territory, after a tour through the Techno Union. Plus there was the fighting.

On the one hand, something needed to be done. On the other hand, he'd been the same way at her age. And on the other hand, this really wasn't the worst friendship she'd struck up. That had unquestionably been her flirtation with the Rebel Alliance.

He massaged the bridge of his nose in a fruitless attempt to stave off a headache. "Well," he said lamely, "I'm glad that you're home safe, Mara. Your mother and I will have to talk about what happens next." He turned to his...let's go with niece. "Thanks for taking care of my kid, Fable. You're a Merrill as far as I'm concerned. We don't have much room here on Oswaft Station, what with the Astronautical Academy being here and all, but you're welcome to stay aboard the D'Lessio where Mara's bunking."

Tension defused, maybe.

Maybe we should send her to the Jedi Academy or something. Or a convent.

Anywhere they don't allow Cyborrean battle dogs.

 

[Fable Merrill]

[member="Jorus Merrill"]

Everything went better than expected.

Fable nodded in deference once more, wondering if it'd be presumptous to adress him as 'uncle'. Most likely. She was gross. Better to not assume closeness simply because she was made in his sister's lab for reasons nebulous. "Yessir. Thank you, sir." She added earnestly, before glancing at her newfound cousin and offering a tiny smirk. They'd had one heck of an adventure today, that was for sure. Fable would most assuredly be keeping in touch. She wouldn't overstay her welcome, of course. She would spend the night though.

A few hours later, Fable had met her 'aunt', who had made a few dry, but not unkind comments about her resembelance to her mom - it seemed that regardless of her relationship with Mara, Alndys Merrill considered Fable more or less part of the family. Fable had taken the opportunity after dinner to update her gene donor on this event in her life, promised to fill in the grusome details later, and had herself an awesome night imparting upon her little cousin the most sacred rites and secret she knew of - how do paint your nails like a pro, pull off the instant-kill combo in Alley Brawler XI, and most importantly, how to headbutt people the right way.

Bonding was fun. Tomorrow, Fable would have to deal with herself again and likely fail at that task. Tonight, though, it was enough to be Mara's (hopefully) cool cousin.