Driel Beroya
Ge'tal Kom'rk
Growing up in one place, in a real home, surrounded by a loving family and building memories with every breath; it builds a sort of gravity in a person. You become accustomed to remaining in one familiar and comfortable place, and while you might travel happily enough and new sights will excite and awe you more than you can describe, there's a happy backsliding that always brings you back to wherever it is that you call 'home.' No matter how widely you range or how long and far you travel seeking whatever it is you're seeking, you will always have that glorious process of returning. You see a familiar road, smell the world around you, hear the lovely homesounds you've come to treasure, and of course, there's nothing like home cooking.
This gravity, bred of familiarity, often makes extended travel or times of wandering into some of the most oppressive times in a person's life. The lack of foundation saps their comfort, infects their joy, and brings a fatigue at the level of the soul, a tiredness that no amount of sleep can repair; and at the end of every day, whenever they slump into tonight's borrowed bed, the last sigh before they sleep is the evening's prayer to find their way home.
As Driel piled out of a bulk transport on Echoy'la, surrounded by a hundred other transients, she felt none of these things. It's a grim mercy to those who've never had a home at all; the weariness permeates them and they learn to live with and ignore it.
Adjusting her rucksack (armor clanking within, despite being padded in her clothes), she fished into it and unfurled a datasheet. The smartplastic roll bore her invitation to train with the Mandalorian Knights, and the credentials and instructions that would give her passage to their headquarters. She frowned at it and studied the insignia, glancing around and trying to match it to anything. No luck. The crowd she was in, however, was moving in the same general direction, so that was likely her best bet. Fidgeting at the lump in her belt, she hitched up her sack and ducked into the crowd.
She was nearing the exit when something tickled her senses. She turned as a scrawny boy snatched at the pouch on her belt, deft fingers plucking the credit stick Hosha had given her – and he darted away. Driel shouted and ran after him, panic flooding her. That was all the money she had, and Hosha's family wasn't wealthy. Like hell she was going to let this punk pickpocket get her. The panic became fury.
Driel darted through the crowd, impeded by her rucksack but still making admirable progress. She'd been a pickpocket too, after all. Her quarry wasn't encumbered, however, and within a few seconds he was through the exit doors and disappearing outside. She muttered a curse and cinched the rucksack strap tighter. She'd seen Liza do this before, and she'd done it herself, but damn if it was not fun. Ducking her head and hunching her shoulders, Driel stopped weaving and bulled into the crowd.
Shouts, curses, and toppling bodies followed in her wake. Hands reached to accost her, but now she was flying, out the doors, mere meters behind the thief. He was still moving quickly, but it was the speed of practiced escape, not need. He didn't think she could catch him, little farmgirl that she seemed to be. Driel snarled and leapt as soon as a clear space presented itself through the crowd, feeling that familiar lift and soar that came from boosted jumps, and brought her feet down squarely between the thief's shoulders.
He had just enough time to squawk with surprise before the air was knocked from his lungs. Driel landed atop him and rolled him over. The youthful face stared at her in fright just before the first fist crashed into his nose. Her responded in panic, and the two grappled furiously, one trying to flee and the other to flatten. Driel's head rang as a wild hand clubbed her ear, and she reeled back. The thief scrabbled free and was about to run when Driel kicked him in the ankle. He shrieked and collapsed into the arms of an armored figure. She was about to leap at him again, but Driel found herself held back by another set of armored limbs, and she looked up. Looking down at her was an impassive helmet, the black T-slit showing nothing beneath.
“Now hang on kids,” said somebody. Driel glared at the short, squat figure currently armlocking the thief. “I love a good fight too, but this ain't the time or place. You both settle down and tell me and Kris what's happening here.”
Before he'd finished, and before Driel could even try to explain, the thief produced a truly astounding amount of noise.
“Oh please kind sir I'm Janner and I was just trying to get home to mother when this hideous girl kicked me down and tried to rob me I don't know why but she's a vicious brute and she hurt me look see the blood – ” He stopped with a sudden shriek. Driel had broken free and kicked him between the legs, snatching the credstick from his hands. She turned and stared defiantly at the surrounding crowd and the two people in armor, getting a good look at them for the first time.
The short one was fat - well, no, not fat, but thick, and almost certainly male. His companion might have been female, but under the armor Driel wasn't sure. They were both armed, and stood out imposingly. There were other armored figures in abundance - this was a Mandalorian world, after all - but these two stood out, even in this crowd. They had an air of authority and importance. Driel stuck her jaw out. "My name's Driel Beroya, and I'm here to join the Mandalorian Knights. He tried to rob me, and I stopped him." She reached for her datasheet.
It was gone.
Driel felt heat bloom in her face, and cast about desperately. I just had the damn thing, she thought as the shorter one snorted, choking down what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Driel clenched her fist and tried to move back towards the exit where she must have dropped it, but the crowd hemmed her in with disapproving scowls.
"You came to the right place girl.” The voice was deep, but definitely female. Driel turned to the taller one – Kris – who was straightening up now, holding the wrinkled datasheet. There was a tone of amusement in her voice as she looked it over, and only now did Driel notice the symbol on the chest of her armor was the one she'd been looking for. "We're your pick-up. Nobody with you?” Driel was silent, brows knit and lips clamped shut. “Alright then.” The woman turned her head and spoke within her helmet, and a moment later a speedercraft settled beside them, dispersing the crowd. “That'll take you to the Knights' HQ, and they'll get you settled. We'll deal with Janner here.” Her tone warmed, showing the smile through her helmet. “Welcome to the Crusade, young lady.”
Driel frowned at being called a 'lady,' but nodded. She pushed through the remnants of the circling crowd, and with a triumphant smirk at Janner, who was now staring after her in furious fear, Driel heaved her rucksack and herself into the shuttle, clutching the datasheet that was her ticket.
“Su'cuy! Welcome the Crusade, miss...?” He was leaning back from the cockpit, looking into the seating area with a grin under his mustache. Driel stared back over her rucksack. He waited, still smiling, clearly not going to move on until she replied.
“Driel,” she finally allowed. “Beroya.” It felt odd to give her clan name, so recently acquired as it was. The pilot finally smiled and nodded, returning to his controls. The shuttle lifted almost instantly.
“Well miss Driel, I'm Hujee Varad, and it's a great pleasure to meet you. I'll be taking you back to the Knights' HQ today, and showing you some of the sites of the city that we pass by.”
Hujee was as good as his word, and kept up a steady flow of narration as they cruised along in the traffic lanes. Driel answered little, fiddling with the strap on her rucksack and imagining what might be waiting for her at the 'HQ.'
Some time later (she lost track) they came to stop – both Hujee's amiably one-sided conversation and the trip. They were outside a massive building, and Hujee was handing her off on the front steps, along with her rucksack. He wished her a pleasant farewell in what she assumed was Mando'a, and then he was gone.
Driel bit her lip and hitched up her rucksack again. Nothing for it but to go on in. She walked to the door and knocked. A moment later a small window opened and what looked like a camera appeared, and an automated voice greeted her with that same strange expression and a burst of Mando'a. Driel chewed her cheek, then held up her datasheet and said exactly what she'd said before, just like Hosha had coached her. There was silence, then
"Welcome to the Crusade, Driel Beroya. Come in."
The door opened, and a woman stepped out. She was almost as short as Driel, but much prettier. She smiled and invited Driel in, glancing briefly at the datasheet and saying "Come right in Driel'ika, my name is Emmay. I'll show you to your room. Lunch is being served in the cafeteria currently, so I'll take you there once you've dropped your things in your room and had a chance to freshen up. Your first lessons will be with ori'[member="Krest"] immediately after lunch."
Driel nodded silently and followed Emmay.
Her room was small, with gray walls and one square window, a desk and a bed and half-partitioned refresher, but ... golly, it was hers. She dumped her jacket and rucksack on the floor and kicked them under the bed, splashed water on her face from the refresher station, and turned back to Emmay with a nod. The other girl smiled amusedly but said nothing.
Lunch was delicious. Along with her meat and plants and grains, she was allowed a tall tumbler of what they called 'netra'gal,' a black Mandalorian beer, and by golly it was just what she needed. All too soon, it was all gone and the dining hall - a huge warehouse of a room - quickly emptied. Driel had sat with Emmay, and the other girl made a valiant effort at conversation, but when her every sally met with the blank wall of Driel's nervous food-shoveling, she soon had given up and focused on her own food. She showed Driel where to dump her tray and platter, and then silently led her down halls after halls. At last, they reached a metal door. Emmay smiled.
"Good luck," she said, opened the door, and then left the way they had come. Before Driel was a room, wide and square and well-lit from somewhere, with a flat and wide-open floor of black mats. Somebody was standing in the middle of the room, their back to Driel.
Clad in her borrowed clothes and fidgeting with the lump in her belt sash, Driel stepped inside, and the door hissed shut behind her.
This gravity, bred of familiarity, often makes extended travel or times of wandering into some of the most oppressive times in a person's life. The lack of foundation saps their comfort, infects their joy, and brings a fatigue at the level of the soul, a tiredness that no amount of sleep can repair; and at the end of every day, whenever they slump into tonight's borrowed bed, the last sigh before they sleep is the evening's prayer to find their way home.
As Driel piled out of a bulk transport on Echoy'la, surrounded by a hundred other transients, she felt none of these things. It's a grim mercy to those who've never had a home at all; the weariness permeates them and they learn to live with and ignore it.
Adjusting her rucksack (armor clanking within, despite being padded in her clothes), she fished into it and unfurled a datasheet. The smartplastic roll bore her invitation to train with the Mandalorian Knights, and the credentials and instructions that would give her passage to their headquarters. She frowned at it and studied the insignia, glancing around and trying to match it to anything. No luck. The crowd she was in, however, was moving in the same general direction, so that was likely her best bet. Fidgeting at the lump in her belt, she hitched up her sack and ducked into the crowd.
She was nearing the exit when something tickled her senses. She turned as a scrawny boy snatched at the pouch on her belt, deft fingers plucking the credit stick Hosha had given her – and he darted away. Driel shouted and ran after him, panic flooding her. That was all the money she had, and Hosha's family wasn't wealthy. Like hell she was going to let this punk pickpocket get her. The panic became fury.
Driel darted through the crowd, impeded by her rucksack but still making admirable progress. She'd been a pickpocket too, after all. Her quarry wasn't encumbered, however, and within a few seconds he was through the exit doors and disappearing outside. She muttered a curse and cinched the rucksack strap tighter. She'd seen Liza do this before, and she'd done it herself, but damn if it was not fun. Ducking her head and hunching her shoulders, Driel stopped weaving and bulled into the crowd.
Shouts, curses, and toppling bodies followed in her wake. Hands reached to accost her, but now she was flying, out the doors, mere meters behind the thief. He was still moving quickly, but it was the speed of practiced escape, not need. He didn't think she could catch him, little farmgirl that she seemed to be. Driel snarled and leapt as soon as a clear space presented itself through the crowd, feeling that familiar lift and soar that came from boosted jumps, and brought her feet down squarely between the thief's shoulders.
He had just enough time to squawk with surprise before the air was knocked from his lungs. Driel landed atop him and rolled him over. The youthful face stared at her in fright just before the first fist crashed into his nose. Her responded in panic, and the two grappled furiously, one trying to flee and the other to flatten. Driel's head rang as a wild hand clubbed her ear, and she reeled back. The thief scrabbled free and was about to run when Driel kicked him in the ankle. He shrieked and collapsed into the arms of an armored figure. She was about to leap at him again, but Driel found herself held back by another set of armored limbs, and she looked up. Looking down at her was an impassive helmet, the black T-slit showing nothing beneath.
“Now hang on kids,” said somebody. Driel glared at the short, squat figure currently armlocking the thief. “I love a good fight too, but this ain't the time or place. You both settle down and tell me and Kris what's happening here.”
Before he'd finished, and before Driel could even try to explain, the thief produced a truly astounding amount of noise.
“Oh please kind sir I'm Janner and I was just trying to get home to mother when this hideous girl kicked me down and tried to rob me I don't know why but she's a vicious brute and she hurt me look see the blood – ” He stopped with a sudden shriek. Driel had broken free and kicked him between the legs, snatching the credstick from his hands. She turned and stared defiantly at the surrounding crowd and the two people in armor, getting a good look at them for the first time.
The short one was fat - well, no, not fat, but thick, and almost certainly male. His companion might have been female, but under the armor Driel wasn't sure. They were both armed, and stood out imposingly. There were other armored figures in abundance - this was a Mandalorian world, after all - but these two stood out, even in this crowd. They had an air of authority and importance. Driel stuck her jaw out. "My name's Driel Beroya, and I'm here to join the Mandalorian Knights. He tried to rob me, and I stopped him." She reached for her datasheet.
It was gone.
Driel felt heat bloom in her face, and cast about desperately. I just had the damn thing, she thought as the shorter one snorted, choking down what sounded suspiciously like a laugh. Driel clenched her fist and tried to move back towards the exit where she must have dropped it, but the crowd hemmed her in with disapproving scowls.
"You came to the right place girl.” The voice was deep, but definitely female. Driel turned to the taller one – Kris – who was straightening up now, holding the wrinkled datasheet. There was a tone of amusement in her voice as she looked it over, and only now did Driel notice the symbol on the chest of her armor was the one she'd been looking for. "We're your pick-up. Nobody with you?” Driel was silent, brows knit and lips clamped shut. “Alright then.” The woman turned her head and spoke within her helmet, and a moment later a speedercraft settled beside them, dispersing the crowd. “That'll take you to the Knights' HQ, and they'll get you settled. We'll deal with Janner here.” Her tone warmed, showing the smile through her helmet. “Welcome to the Crusade, young lady.”
Driel frowned at being called a 'lady,' but nodded. She pushed through the remnants of the circling crowd, and with a triumphant smirk at Janner, who was now staring after her in furious fear, Driel heaved her rucksack and herself into the shuttle, clutching the datasheet that was her ticket.
“Su'cuy! Welcome the Crusade, miss...?” He was leaning back from the cockpit, looking into the seating area with a grin under his mustache. Driel stared back over her rucksack. He waited, still smiling, clearly not going to move on until she replied.
“Driel,” she finally allowed. “Beroya.” It felt odd to give her clan name, so recently acquired as it was. The pilot finally smiled and nodded, returning to his controls. The shuttle lifted almost instantly.
“Well miss Driel, I'm Hujee Varad, and it's a great pleasure to meet you. I'll be taking you back to the Knights' HQ today, and showing you some of the sites of the city that we pass by.”
Hujee was as good as his word, and kept up a steady flow of narration as they cruised along in the traffic lanes. Driel answered little, fiddling with the strap on her rucksack and imagining what might be waiting for her at the 'HQ.'
Some time later (she lost track) they came to stop – both Hujee's amiably one-sided conversation and the trip. They were outside a massive building, and Hujee was handing her off on the front steps, along with her rucksack. He wished her a pleasant farewell in what she assumed was Mando'a, and then he was gone.
Driel bit her lip and hitched up her rucksack again. Nothing for it but to go on in. She walked to the door and knocked. A moment later a small window opened and what looked like a camera appeared, and an automated voice greeted her with that same strange expression and a burst of Mando'a. Driel chewed her cheek, then held up her datasheet and said exactly what she'd said before, just like Hosha had coached her. There was silence, then
"Welcome to the Crusade, Driel Beroya. Come in."
The door opened, and a woman stepped out. She was almost as short as Driel, but much prettier. She smiled and invited Driel in, glancing briefly at the datasheet and saying "Come right in Driel'ika, my name is Emmay. I'll show you to your room. Lunch is being served in the cafeteria currently, so I'll take you there once you've dropped your things in your room and had a chance to freshen up. Your first lessons will be with ori'[member="Krest"] immediately after lunch."
Driel nodded silently and followed Emmay.
Her room was small, with gray walls and one square window, a desk and a bed and half-partitioned refresher, but ... golly, it was hers. She dumped her jacket and rucksack on the floor and kicked them under the bed, splashed water on her face from the refresher station, and turned back to Emmay with a nod. The other girl smiled amusedly but said nothing.
Lunch was delicious. Along with her meat and plants and grains, she was allowed a tall tumbler of what they called 'netra'gal,' a black Mandalorian beer, and by golly it was just what she needed. All too soon, it was all gone and the dining hall - a huge warehouse of a room - quickly emptied. Driel had sat with Emmay, and the other girl made a valiant effort at conversation, but when her every sally met with the blank wall of Driel's nervous food-shoveling, she soon had given up and focused on her own food. She showed Driel where to dump her tray and platter, and then silently led her down halls after halls. At last, they reached a metal door. Emmay smiled.
"Good luck," she said, opened the door, and then left the way they had come. Before Driel was a room, wide and square and well-lit from somewhere, with a flat and wide-open floor of black mats. Somebody was standing in the middle of the room, their back to Driel.
Clad in her borrowed clothes and fidgeting with the lump in her belt sash, Driel stepped inside, and the door hissed shut behind her.