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03.16.2014 , 05:46 AM | #7
Firstly to note, obviously the names of days and months are different in Basic to English. That "Thursday" is called that is simply a translation.

Arisec January was a small cog in the Balmorran government before the war, aide to a diplomatic consul. He and his wife Hestia were comfortably well off rather than rich, so jumped at the chance to accept a place aboard a diplomatic vessel on a year-long tour round various star systems to renegotiate a number of trade agreements. It would be a wonderful opportunity for their seven year old daughter, Melody Winter January, to see something of the galaxy, Hestia already having taken note of the daughter's wanderlust. Theirs was a loving marriage and it was neither a surprise nor a concern when Hestia fell pregnant shortly into the trip.

Sadly, a couple of months later, disaster struck. The ship encountered a pirate ship, crewed by a number of pirates who would be later acquaintances of one Andronikos Revel- though not he himself- and a small group of thrill-seeking Sith of no particular importance, justifying their playing pirate by regarding themselves as stirring up crime and sabotage in Republic space. On finding themselves to have landed a diplomatic vessel though, they relished the opportunity to play at being proper Sith for a change.

Captain and crew were brutally slaughtered, passengers abused and beaten, maimed and mutilated and seemingly at random chosen for either slavery or death, the Sith' s only real criteria being to make sure to break up families. Hestia was blinded in front of her husband and deprived of a chance to see him for the last time, then forced to listen as he was given the choice to either kill himself, or else the Sith would abuse and kill his wife and daughter. He chose death, pressing his throat on to the sith' s saber.
This was a decision Thursday, when she heard of it, would later come to consider cowardly, believing that he must have known the Sith would likely follow through on the atrocities anyway, but chose death so as not to be there to witness it. Neither Melody nor Hestia while she lived, would share this view.

Melody ran, her mother providing a distraction, and somehow managed to get herself in the ship ducting, a place too small for the Sith to follow. There she hid, utterly terrified, while the other few survivors, including her mother, were taken off ship and into slavery. It was six weeks before a Republic scout vessel located the stricken Balmorran ship and its traumatised survivor.

She was placed with a foster family of distant relatives on Balmorran, but, disliking them and just too plain afraid of everything to settle to a stable life again, she ran away aged 12, caught and stowed away and made her way around the galaxy badly and, as such people tend to, found herself living rough on Nar Shaddaa.

Meanwhile Hestia' s sad life had drawn to a tragic close - a blind slave had little use and, once her child was born, she was allowed to keep it merely long enough to nurse it. In bitterness and despair she named the baby girl Thursday, since she felt the day of her birth was the only thing she had to give the child. Before Thursday was fully weaned, Hestia finally died, and Thursday taken as a resource, a slave born into slavery, pure property.

She grew up on various work camps and in the cargo holds of spaceships, doing better than might have been expected as the wiry tough little girl became somewhat adopted and protected by those in her work gang, and growing fiercely protective- a family trait- in return.

Meanwhile on Nar Shadaa, Melody had taken up slicing, and grown competent. As she grew, she became increasingly aware that her life had few career options, and that one profession 'suggested' by a number of passing traders and mercenaries with cash and a lack of scruples definitely did not appeal. Intelligent and highly read, she spent perhaps as much time hacking into the galactic library to fuel her dreams of wider horizons as she did on crime. Her slicing allowed her to avoid the galaxy's oldest profession, and eventually she took ship on a freighter specialising in the free transfer of certain goods. The captain had need of someone able to persuade computer systems to not look at the ship's flight manifest or trading history too closely, and the teenaged slicer' s skills were up to the mark. She rose well, and became a favourite and trusted friend to the Captain after an incident where a situation nearly escalated to murder but Melody faced down her own Captain and crew and refused to back down at a point. Once tempers had cooled, the Captain realised that the criminal caper in question had taken he and his crew right to the edge of changing career from smuggler to pirate- and if it hadn't been for the girl, they would have crossed the line. That defiance earned her a friend and mentor, and, in five years time when the Captain retired, a ship. Though by then, war had overtaken them.

Melody enlisted, trained... and did rather badly. Her whole life had taught her that standing by her principles was a good and, indeed, the only thing to do to avoid being sucked under. Responding to orders she disagreed with with argument or point blank refusal had stood her well so far, but it seemed the Republic military disagreed. It ended shortly after the Treaty of Coruscant. Drunk in a bar and utterly furious that the Republic had essentially left Balmorran to rot, as she saw it, events led to her dishonourable discharge on what she later gleefully recounted as "Two counts of bein' drunk and disorderly in uniform, conduct unbecomin' etc etc, four counts of insubordination, three counts of insultin' a superior- ha- officer, one count of assaultin' a superior officer, three count of usin' long words the officers at the court martial didn't understand and one count of callin' them a really short word they definitely did understand."

She slipped easily back into the life of a free trader, buying her old captain's ship at a knockdown price after he retired, and going into business for herself. The Hestia' s Dawn continued as her ship, workplace, and home, with only a third of the cargo bay cluttered with her books and collection of Ortolon poetry until a few years later a job took her delivering weapons to Ord Mantell...

It was Thursday's protective streak too, which got her into trouble. For some months another slave in her little group had been suffering particularly from the bullying of one overseer. Standing up to overseers was impossible, of course, but she did what she could, ensuring food and support below decks for the slave in question. Though only thirteen or fourteen at this point, as best she could remember, she had become very much the leader of their little gang in the small world of themselves, their overseers, and whichever slave pen or project was their current home. Names in the wider galaxy meant little. Now they were in the dark belly of a starship, being freighted to some planet whose name interested none of them, to excavate relics. It did not matter to them.

Now it seemed the slave had lost his temper, hit back and assaulted the overseer who had been victimising him for months. He would die for that, beaten and whipped to death in front of the other slaves to teach them proper respect. Thursday tried to struggle and was held- to be less lethally punished later, to watch her friend's execution. She continued to struggle against the guard holding her as blow after blow fell on her friend, but, physically small and malnourished, there was little she could do but stare at the overseers in building hate and fury... until something snapped in her, and vicious lightning seared out, striking her friend's tormentors dead. As guards and fellow slaves alike stared at her in shock, and Thursday realised in her heart that power- whatever that might mean, would set her free, ten decks above, one Sith sorceress, deep in thought on how to solve her own pressing personal difficulties, paused, and sent her thought down through the decks to a part of the ship she'd previously considered utterly beneath her notice. Lord Zash smiled...
"... Pointless meatbag bickering."
-- HK-55