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It was a chilly day in the mountains of Ord Mantell. Gryn Starhopper pulled his jacket around him and walked down the trail from the hangars to the cantina. It was always a bitch, picking up shipments here in a climate that was unsuitable for humans like Gryn, but the secluded location meant fewer Imperial informants around. Gryn surreptitiously eyed the patrons as he pushed through the door of the cantina. Nobody here wanted to be seen -- unless they were here to see somebody, that is. The whole place was a den of smugglers and their contacts. You didn't ask questions if you knew what was good for you.
The clientele was as varied as any watering hole in the galaxy. The sound of the live band playing a haunting lilt wound through the smoke as his ears and nostrils were both assaulted by the diverse alien presences. A group of green-skinned Rodians with big eyes played a game of sabacc, jabbering in noises incomprehensible to Gryn. A Wookiee, a short human, and a Chadra-Fan with it's bat-like face toasted loudly, apparently already inebriated. Two smarmy humans in space suits made plans on a data-pad, glancing up periodically to make certain no one was aware of their clandestine arrangements.
Gryn saw his contact across the way and nodded to him. The short, scrawny human turned his stomach. He looked as unscrupulous as Gryn had expected, and his slight frame spoke of malnourishment and drug use. Fortunately, Gryn didn't have to rely on this scum for his payment -- that would be provided at the other end. As long as the goods were solid, so was this deal.
Gryn bellied up to the bar. Oola, the Twi'lek bartender, saw him signal. She smiled and came toward him, leaning over the bar.
"Fancy seeing you again, Gryn," she said. He smiled. Oola was the kind of girl to sidle up to you for the tips, but it never went beyond that. Didn't mean he wasn't going to try, though.
"Fancy's too big a word for a dive like this," he said with a playful smirk.
"Oh, you're hurting my feelings, Gryn. You humans are all so mean," she said, pouting, but she put her blue-skinned hand over his.
"What you got for a tired smuggler to perk him up?" he said, turning his hand over to take ahold of hers.
"Everything..." she purred, leaning over more. Her blouse was open and gave a great view of her cleavage.
That's what does it, he thought. Why men always go for the Twi'leks. Their bodies are so much like ours -- except for those head tails that made them seem so exotic. No wonder half the humanoids in the galaxy has enslaved their people.
"Any Rylothian ale?" he asked, playing on her sense of home pride.
"Honey," she quipped. "You can't handle Rylothian ale."
"Try me." He winked.
Oola came back with a tumbler of bubbling purple liquid that exuded a mist that spilled down over the glass. He tossed her a coin and blew her a kiss before taking it to a quiet booth in a dark corner. He always marveled at how many dark corners there were in places like this. Within moments, his contact meandered over to his table, nervously looking around as he came.
It didn't take long to haggle over the price. He could have gotten more out of the deal if he'd been pushier, but something was nagging at him today, and he was anxious to be back off-world, besides, the contact had a distinct odor that Gryn wasn't happy to keep inhaling.
"It's done, then," the smarmy fellow told him. "My workers will deliver the cargo. Are you still flying that filth bucket you call a ship?"
"Hey, the Calloused Hand has been nothing but faithful to your business," Gryn bristled. It was customary. It wouldn't be a deal without the obligatory insult.
"We'll see," the man replied with a smirk. "See you 'round." He walked away, disappearing out the door.
Gryn shook his head, his ruddy-brown hair interrupted by one white forelock. He took a deep breath of the now-less-putrid air and downed his drink. As he stood to go, tossing his tip onto the table, a voice caught his attention. Female. Asking questions. That couldn't be good. Wait, he knew that voice. He knew that voice so well.
"Gryn Starhopper?" the voice inquired of someone by the door. "He flies a YT-1000? He..."
The voice stopped as Gryn stepped forward, and the woman's big, brown eyes caught his.
"Bela," he gasped. His heart ached at the sight of her. He hadn't seen Bela in ages. Her blonde hair cascaded down over her shoulders, and immediately his body remembered what it felt like to hold her hair in his fist as they... Damn, that was a long time ago.
"What are you doing here, Bela? I didn't know you were on Ord Mantell," he started.
When she saw Gryn, her eyes softened for just a moment, but then she steeled herself, flipping her hair back. She took the hand of a little girl who had been hiding behind her leg, the spitting image of her mother except for her auburn hair, and she approached the smuggler.
"We need to talk," Bela said insistently. "Now." She glanced around the cantina, with a nervous gaze. "And somewhere private."
Gryn's heart fluttered. He swallowed hard. Private. Her brown eyes pulled his well-hidden emotions right to the surface. He'd forgotten how she always affected him.
He looked from the woman down to the little girl that held her hand. There was no time to ponder. Despite not having seen her in years, Gryn remembered that Bela wasn't one to be pushy, so if she was acting this way, there must be a good reason. He gestured, turned, and led them into the dark corner he'd just vacated.
Gryn stood aside, watching as the mother and daughter scooted into the booth. The little girl's brown eyes looked up at him as she scooted in before her mother. Being a smuggler, you learn to read people. What he saw in her was fear tempered by curiosity.
"Bela, what...?" he started to ask, but she cut him off.
"They're after me, Gryn. I missed a few payments. I thought I could handle it, but..."
He saw the tremble in her chin, looked down and saw her hands shaking too -- telltale signs of rhyll usage. He looked up and saw the faint hint of blue outlining her mouth. She tried to hide it with lipstick, but he picked it up, nonetheless. She was hooked. She must have gotten herself in debt to her dealer.
"Geez, Bela," he began, derisively. "How could you?"
As much as he'd loved her, he knew she was impulsive at times. The drug was common on the streets of most planets, a pleasant escape for many, deadly to some.
"They're going to take me, Gryn, and make me..."
Of course, he thought. A girl as pretty as Bela, they would make her work off her debt -- on her back. They'd string her out on more rhyll, keeping her in debt. The syndicates knew their business when it came to certain customers.
"It's no place for a little girl," Bela said, and she started to sob, stifling it.
Gryn saw the little girl sidle closer to her mother. He looked at her, and her deep brown eyes met his. Her face was passive, like she'd grown accustomed to her mother's tears. Bela's crying tugged at his heart, but he had to keep a level head here. He put his hands on Bela's across the table.
"You need me to get her out of here? Take her to family or something?" he asked.
Bela cried even harder for a moment before she forced herself to slow the sobs. She pulled her hands free from his and dabbed at her eyes with her sleeves. She looked up at Gryn, her own brown eyes were like liquid in the table light.
"Family," she smirked, and she turned to her daughter, brushing the girl's bangs away from her face. As she did, a white forelock was revealed. "You're the only family she has now, Gryn."
Time stood still as he looked at the child before him. He was no judge of ages when it came to children. Certainly she wasn't even 10 years old. How long had it been since he and Bela last...? His heart stopped beating for just a moment until the little girl smiled at him. He didn't smile back. He didn't want this, didn't need this. How could she...?! For so many years!
The door of the cantina opened abruptly, and two male Falleen came in, their skin green, their heads topped with a single knot of hair. They wore the mark of the Black Sun syndicate on their sleeves. They served some of the most ferocious warlords in the galaxy. They looked about. Bela caught sight of them.
"I have to go," she said. She leaned over the table, took Gryn's gnarled face in her hands and kissed him. The scent of her, the softness of those lips, took him back. How had he ever stopped loving her? "Take care of her. She needs you, Gryn. You're her only hope."
With that, Bela slipped out of the booth and made a dash for the back. Gryn's hand instinctively went to his side, clutching at the DL-44 blaster pistol in its holster as he eyed the two off-worlders who sought out Bela. The hero in him wanted to take them both out, save the woman, get her out of here. He could rescue her from this, he could...
He could never make things work with Bela.
He looked down at the girl across the table from him. She watched him, observantly, expectantly. Bela was doomed. She would be the chained, drugged, used. But this little one...
"She's drawing them away, out the back," he said, out loud, realizing that what might be Bela's last conscious effort was something he couldn't throw away. "We'll go out the front," he said to the girl. "I'll have my gun in my right hand; you hold my left hand. Do you know your right from your left?"
She nodded, raising both hands up in front of her and then dropping her right one down. Her expression never changed.
"Good. We need to be quiet. Their attention is on her. We don't want anyone's attention to be drawn to us. Got it?"
She nodded once.
"C'mon, kid," he said, sliding out of the booth, and offering his hand.
Her touch was as soft as her mother's. It was electric, almost, as she looked up at him with those same eyes.
"You have to do everything I say," he told her. "Can you do that?"
She smiled a fearful smile full of tension and uncertainty, and she nodded again. Gryn slowly walked out of the cantina, hand-in-hand with his daughter.
The Calloused Hand had seen better days, but she was home. As he came into the hangar, he saw a Wookiee loading crates onto the cargo lift. That must be the "men" his contact has spoken of. He grunted an unamused chortle.
His mirth was cut short, however, when he saw creatures like the ones who went after Bela searching around outside the hangar bays. Looking at the crates the Wookiee was loading, he got an idea. He pulled the girl by the hand over to the loading elevator.
"You ever fly one of these things?" he asked the Wookiee. Gryn, like many smugglers, could understand a few languages besides Basic. The Wookiee replied affirmatively.
"What's that bastard paying you?" The Wookiee's reply made him smile. "I need a co-pilot. I'll double what he's paying you... and give you a cut off the jobs."
The Wookiee made a counter offer.
"Forty percent?!" Gryn balked. He laughed at the Wookiee's gutsy offer. "It's my ship, buddy. I'm the one fronting this game. I'll offer you fifteen. Twenty if you can do repairs and haul cargo. What do you say?"
The Wookiee nodded and offered his hand. Gryn grabbed it and received a firm handshake.
"Go warm up the ship, then, pal," Gryn said. As the large, furry beast turned and went up the ramp, Gryn knelt down by the little girl. "The men who took your mom are looking for you too. Remember when I said you have to do everything I tell you?"
She nodded.
"Okay, then. I need you to get in one of these crates. I'll hide you in here. Once my ship is in the air, I'll let you out. It won't be too long. Can you do that?"
He watched as her eyes -- Bela's eyes -- looked at the crate, at the ship, then back at him. For a moment, he wondered whether he would have to knock her out. He wasn't beyond hurting her if it kept her safe. She threw her arms around him. He was taken aback, knocked over almost. He put his arms around her, getting ready to pull her off of himself, but after a quick hug, she let got and turned to the crate. Gryn opened it to see grenades painted to look like meiloorun fruit. He shook his head. No place for a child, but he didn't have much choice. He helped her up into the crate.
"Don't touch anything in there. I'll let you out as soon as I can, okay?" he tried to reassure her. She nodded. He could see tears glistening in her eyes as he pulled the lid down over her.
"Hey you!" he heard a guttural bark behind him.
My hair, he thought, and he pulled his cap from his back pocket, pulling it over his head before he turned around.
"I've got papers on all of these goods," Gryn said, reaching toward his jacket pocket for the non-existent papers.
"We're not customs, you idiot," one of the two Falleen henchmen replied.
"We're looking for a little girl," the other said, holding out his hand around his mid belly. "This high. Human. Rust colored hair with a white streak in it."
Gryn just shrugged. He watched their hands out of his peripheral vision as he held their gaze. If they so much as twitched, he was ready to shoot them. One of them nodded toward the crates. "What are you hauling?" he asked.
"Meiloorun fruit," Gryn lied.
"Show me," one of the goons ordered, raising his carbine rifle.
"Woah, hey, okay," Gryn said, backing up, drawing them away from the crate with the girl inside. "Take it easy. No need to get testy."
He stumbled intentionally and caught himself on a crate at the edge of the platform. If the deal was set up the way it was supposed to be, some of these crates would have actual meiloorun fruit in them, but he hadn't had a chance to confirm which ones yet. He looked at the crate that he caught himself on. The markings were different.
Oh, well, he thought as he pulled himself to his feet. If it's grenades in this one, at least it will make for a nice diversion.
He popped the latch and opened the crate. The Falleen pushed him out of the way with the butt of his rifle and looked inside.
"Meiloorun, huh?" the goon chuckled. He reached in and lifted out a grenade.
Gryn took the opportunity created by the goon's distraction from the crate to free his blaster from his holster.
"Now listen," he said, pointing it at the one closest to him. "I've been more than accommodating to you fellows, but I've got a shipment to deliver, and I don't need any delays."
The goon placed the grenade gently back in the crate.
"We're Black Sun," the second thug said, pushing forward. "You don't want to piss us off."
"Who do you think ordered this shipment?" Gryn countered, leveling the muzzle of his blaster at the one who had just spoken. "Your bosses are going to be pretty pissed off to hear that your bumbling search for a little girl you let slip through your fingers led to them not getting their payment on time."
After a few moments and some glances around the hangar, the two shrugged and wandered off. Gryn hit the button to pull the cargo elevator back up into the ship, and he walked quickly toward the gang ramp, keeping the two Black Sun stooges in the corner of his eye. The engines fired up, and Gryn raised the ramp. For just a moment, he thought about shooting them as the ramp came up, but they had probably already taken Bela to their boss if they were only asking about the girl. He stayed his hand and ran to the cockpit.
"Do you know the destination?" he asked. The Wookiee nodded. "Get us headed that direction. I'm going to check on the cargo."
He ran to the cargo bay and pried open the crate lid. The girl blinked at the brightness of the overhead lights after being stuck in the dark. He reached his arms down and pulled her up off the pile of grenades, bringing her to his chest to keep from falling over. She threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, nuzzling him, and then she started to cry. He held her tight, first out of instinct, then out of a desire to comfort her. He rubbed her back, sitting himself on the edge of one of the crates.
When her sobs finally subsided, the little girl pulled away from him she looked at him, her face scrunched up. "That was mean!" she blurted. "I was scared!" Fresh tears started to fill her eyes.
Still holding her steady with one arm, Gryn let go with the other to wipe the tears from her cheeks.
"I know it was scary, but not nearly as scary as going with the men who took your mom." The anger in her face transitioned to a pout. "You did good, little Meiloorun."
She smiled at that.
"I'm not a meiloorun fruit," she said, allowing herself one chortle before pushing her bottom lip back out in a pout.
"Well, you sure fooled those goons. They thought you were one. That's why they didn't check your crate... Meiloorun."
She smiled and blushed at her new nickname.
"My name's not Meiloorun. It's Gyndi," she said with a smirk.
"Hi, Gyndi," he replied, pushing her hair back from her face. "I'm Gryn."
"I know," she nodded. "Momma told me."
"What else did she tell you?"
"That you'd take care of me. 'Cause you're a good man."
Gryn snorted at that, and Gyndi startled.
"She never said any such thing. Your momma never thought of me as a good man."
"It's true," she replied, nodding emphatically. "And..."
He waited. The million credit question hanging in the air between them.
"...Are you really my pa?"
"What do you think?" he asked.
She looked up at his head. She reached up tentatively and pushed his hat off, revealing the white forelock. She let the hat drop to the floor and ran her fingers through his bangs.
"Daddy," she sighed, and she wrapped her arms back around him and laid her cheek on his shoulder.
Gryn stood up, holding her. She wrapped her legs around his waist and let him carry her to his bunk.
"There's only two sleeping quarters on my little freighter. So you can sleep here with me since I need to give the other one to the Wookiee."
Gryn set her down on the bunk that was bolted to the wall. It was a small, sparse room. He never needed much.
"I'm sure you have a hundred questions, Meiloo, but I need to check on my new co-pilot," he said, standing up. "I'll be back in a little while." He headed toward the door.
"Daddy?"
He wasn't ready for that. It stopped him in his tracks. It maybe grated on his nerves, even. He didn't ask for this. If Bela had told him years ago, he probably would have stepped up, done the right thing, but now... He looked at her. How many years? Seven? Eight?
"What?" he asked too impatiently.
"Am I going to be a fucking whore like my mother?" she asked quietly.
Blood rose in Gryn's body, surging up his neck, making his ears hot. He sat down next to her and held her fiercely by the shoulders.
"What did you say?" he barked.
"Ow. You're hurting me," she whimpered.
"How dare you talk about..." the woman I loved "...your mother that way!"
"But those guys that came for us... That's what they called her. Is that bad? Am I a fucking whore, too, Daddy?"
Gryn slapped her.
Gyndi's face turned with the force of the strike, and she crumpled onto the bed crying.
"Don't say that, Gyndi," he growled. "Don't ever say that about your mother or yourself. Those are bad words, and I won't have you saying them."
His face was hot as he watched her cry into the mattress. The sight of her woke him up from his anger, and he suddenly felt remorse. He ran his fingers through his hair. His body was coursing with anger. He didn't even know who he was mad at. Surely he couldn't be mad at this little girl who clearly didn't know any better. His little girl. He took a deep breath.
"Hey," he sighed, sitting on the bed next to her. "Come here. Listen to me," he bodily forced her into his lap. He made her sit on his knees, facing him, wrapping her legs around him. Tears poured down her face. "You didn't know. I get that. I'm sorry for being so mean. It's just..."
Her brown eyes brimmed with tears, glistening in the low light of the room. Her bottom lip trembled. It was Bela's face looking back at him. Bela's... but different. He felt so confused. She was pretty. So pretty, just like her mother. It made him miss Bela, and that made him think, for just a moment, about the horrible life she was headed for.
"Gyndi, I loved your mom. Before you were born, we... Well, we loved each other. If I'd known you were here, maybe I would have loved you that way too. But, listen, if you're my daughter, there's certain things you're not allowed to say. And words like..." He swallowed. It was hard to even say it in a clinical context. "...'whore' or even 'fucking'. I can't have you saying those words, Gyndi. Understand?"
She nodded, but he could tell she didn't really understand.
"I don't even know what they mean, Daddy," she said.
Gryn let out a heavy sigh. This was going to be hard. Not just this conversation -- this talk was just a prelude to the world that awaited him as a father. He gulped.
"Fucking is..." He ran his fingers through his hair. "When a man and a woman, uh..." Her little eyes looked up at him expectantly. "I mean, a man's body and a woman's body are different, you know, and..." Her patient expression just made it more difficult. He turned his eyes away from her and looked down at the bland pattern of the blanket on the bed. "A man has a... a thing on his body, and a woman, she has... well, you have one too. I mean, when we go potty..."
"You mean my cunny?" she asked innocently.
Gryn shook his head and closed his eyes as he answered, "Yes, Baby. Your... cunny."
He felt the twitch in his pants, and it made him hate himself. He opened his eyes to see that pretty little face looking up at him.
"Do you have a cunny, Daddy?"
The twitch became a throb.
"No, Baby. I have a... I have a thingy." He looked down at the bulge in his pants where his cock swelled along his leg. Gyndi's eyes followed.
"Is that where you pee?" she asked, pointing. "From your leg?"
"Well, normally it's not like...I mean, right now, it's different because..." Because you're as pretty as Bela, and I'm explaining the word "fucking" to a child, and you said the word cunny, and now you're staring at my cock. Oh, shit, what's wrong with me?
"Because why, Daddy?" she asked.
"Uhmmm..."
"Can I touch it?" she asked, reaching her hand down toward his bulge. He grabbed her by the wrist.
"Because we're talking about fucking," he blurted. "And I loved fucking your mother. I put my thingy right in her cunny, and I fucked her so hard. It felt so good. So wonderful. And you look so much like her that it's confusing my body."
Gyndi just looked up at him, taking in his words.
"And your mother wasn't a whore. At least not when I knew her. Maybe that changed. A whore is a woman who lets men fuck her for money. Bela was never like that."
His eyes were hot. Tears started to blur the image of the little girl sitting in front of him.
"But she's a whore now, Gyndi. That's what those green goons took her for. She has no choice, and you would have had no choice if I didn't shove you in that crate, you might have had to become one too."
"But you said it feels good when you... you know," she prompted, being careful to not say the bad word.
"When you have a choice in it... when it's with someone you love, then yes. But..."
"Do you love me, Daddy?" she asked.
The blush burned Gryn's cheeks. He nodded. He never expected this of himself, but he knew it was true.
"Yeah," he croaked. He pulled her by her wrist toward him, until her cunny was pressed against his hips. He wrapped his arms around her, and she wrapped hers around him. Her little bottom pressed right against his throbbing cock, and he had to stifle a groan. It felt so good. He hated himself for how good it felt in that moment. Her soft, little ass, mashing his dick into his thigh as he hugged her. His daughter's ass. Her tiny, round, soft, little ass.
And then, to his amazement, he felt moisture from where she pressed against him.
"Gyndi," he gasped. "Why are your pants wet?"
"It happened when you said you loved me," she answered innocently. "I guess I peed a little. I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to. Are you mad at me for peeing?"
"No," he said, mesmerized by the moisture there. He put his hand under her buttocks and felt the softness of her body. "It's not pee, Baby, it's..." He pushed his fingers under her until he felt the moist spot right where her puffy labia swelled the crotch of her pants.
"I'm really sorry, Daddy," she whimpered. "I didn't know those words were so bad."
He could feel the warmth of her body. His hand pressed right against the puffy, wet lips of her young, pre-pubescent pussy, separated only by such thin fabric.
"I know you didn't understand those words were bad," he mumbled, barely able to think about anything but the heat radiating from her young cunt lips. He pressed upward, and she moaned.
"Daddy," she moaned. "What's happening?"
He forced himself to hold steady there, but she squirmed again, and his fingers pressed into her cleft. He could feel the wetness of her folds seeping through. He pulled his fingers away and involuntarily raised his hips, pressing his cock against her as it throbbed.
"Unhhhh," she sighed as his bulge pushed against her cunt. Her voice sounded just like Bela in the throes of a slow, passionate fuck. It made his breath catch. He had to end this torment -- for both of them.
He lifted her off his lap and pushed her down on the bed and stood. He could feel the moisture from her pussy where it had soaked into his pants. It was beginning to cool.
She looked shocked that he had handled her so roughly.
"Are you mad that my pee is getting on your pants?" she asked, glancing at his crotch.
He looked at her and sighed, his frustration melting away for a moment. He smiled, despite himself.
"It's not pee, Gyndi."
"What is it, Daddy? It's never happened before."
"It's... juice from your cunny. It happens sometimes when a man makes a girl feel... special."
"How come?"
She wasn't going to make this easy on him. He just wished some part of it would be easy. Then he realized that he didn't wish that at all.
"It... " he let out a heavy sigh. "It's there to help make it easier for a man to get his thingy inside a girl's cunny. When he fucks her."
"Oh," she said, matter of factly. "And fu..." she stopped herself from saying the bad word. "And that feels good, right? Like when you touched my cunny?"
"That felt good?" he asked.
"Yeah," she sighed with a smile.
Gryn couldn't take anymore.
"Take off your bottoms and hand them to me. I ... I need to wash them."
"'Kay," she said, kicking off her boots and pulling her pants and panties down together. She handed them to him. "Daddy, do you really love me?"
If I didn't love you, I wouldn't be leaving this room right now, he said in his mind, trying for all the world not to stare at her bare pussy.
"I do," he replied out loud, and he leaned over and kissed her mouth. His lips lingered way too long on hers.
"I love you too, I think," she said as he raised up.
He smiled. He was dizzy. He stumbled out the portal, into the corridor. He steadied himself with a hand on the wall as he fumbled toward the lavatory. Inside, he leaned back against the wall and held the wet crotch of her panties to his nose. He inhaled deeply of her light, musty scent as he freed his turgid member from his pants.
"Gyndi," he whispered as he began stroking himself. "Oh, my fucking stars. My daughter, Gyndi."
His cock felt so hot, so heavy and swollen in his hand. He pressed the wet spot to his lips and sucked. Her effluence moistened his lips, and he groaned, tasting the juice of his own daughter's cunt.
"I'm going to hell," he moaned as he stroked his cock, thinking about his daughter's sweet, pussy: so hot, so wet.
The need was building in his loins. His breath caught. His knees buckled. He lowered the panties to his dick and rubbed her moisture on the head of his cock. Then he groaned as his orgasm overtook him. If it weren't for the wall at his back, he would have fallen. His body buckled as the hot semen began to rise from his testicles. He was weakened like never before. He thought of her pretty face, her deep, brown eyes, her auburn hair, her tears, her whimpers, her arms around his neck, her lips on his. And he came, coating the crotch of her panties in his semen.
"Yeah, straight to hell."