Private Origin of the Species (Viers)

[Sam Connory]

CORONET CITY, CORELLIA

Sixty thousand refugees passed through this port every week, courtesy of the latest Sith war and the Bryn'adul genocides. A good portion of them wound up in big waiting rooms like this one - converted warehouses under eminent domain. The space was part slum, part passenger lounge, with mobile and stationary hawkers doing their best to make it a bazaar.

Oh, and buskers. Connory had this ill-marked intersection locked down in a friendly way. He was playing a trio of Sontaran song balls by juggling them. Nobody here had much money, so Connory hadn't put out the hat. An elderly Kubaz couple tried to tip him anyway.

The titanium spheres' flutelike music slowed, but didn't stop, as Connory gave a passing kid a double take.

He whistled in what he hoped was an urgent and not creepy way. "Kid. Hey, kid - where'd you get that jacket?"

Ryv a jaggath, but the kid looked just like her too.

Viers Connory

 

[Viers Connory]

//: Coronet City //: Corellia //:
//: Sam Connory //:

All of Corellia's children eventually make it back home. Even the ones that knew nothing of her glory. Viers finally found her way and finally worked up the courage to go to where her parents were from. The thought of coming here, the place where she should have been born, it just felt surreal. Growing up, she heard stories, brief ones about her parents from the old woman that was her guardian. Never learning their names, but knowing their accomplishments - at least that of her mother. ​

Despite being abandoned, Viers wasn't mad at them - there was a war going on, and they did it for the most part to protect her. She did get to keep a field jacket with rank patches from the Rogue Squadron - an infamous group that flew during the Galactic Alliance's first iteration. It was a treasured item, Viers' only connection to her mother at least.​

She wandered around, taking in the sights of Corellia, but something or someone called to her. Turning to face the man, she raised an eyebrow and walked towards him. "My jacket?" The small hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she clutched the collar slightly tighter and shrugged. "Dunno, I've always had it - what's it to you old man." A little smirk as she did her best to seem more formidable than she was.​

 

[Sam Connory]

The jacket meant something to her, clear enough. He caught the moment of protectiveness.

The music faltered and ended. He put the spheres in their well-worn case but left the lid open.

"Red seas of Knores, kid, it's..." He wasn't normally lost for words. "Weird question, but does that Rogue Squadron jacket have a little pocket sewed in for a holdout blaster?" He patted a spot under his ribs on the left. He'd added that pocket.

The better part of twenty years ago.

Oh feth...

Viers Connory

 

[Viers Connory]

Who was this old guy? ​

​

Viers took a step back as he mentioned the pocket, the same pocket she usually kept her snacks in. "Uh," She started and patted the jacket down, feigning her confusion. Her mind did a once over on the wannabe musician, he knew something about her that she wasn't sure if she was ready to know. Still, curiosity always drew her closer and so she took a step forward and opened the jacket. ​

​

Inside, Sam would be able to see the pocket he spoke of except instead of a holdout blaster being hidden away, he would find the wrapping of a sandwich. Viers closed the jacket quickly, just in case the old guy was eyeing her sandwich a bit too hard. No one took food from the Corellian.​

​

NO ONE.​

​

"All the old Rogue Squadron jackets came like this," She chuckled nervously - feeling oddly drawn to the Bard. "You part of the old squadron then?"​

​

Sam Connory ​

 

[Sam Connory]

"Heh. I mean, you could say I was in the old squadron-"

He cut himself off. The kid was a kid. And ryv a jaggath sideways, but she sounded just like-

"The name Allyson Locke mean anything to you? And, uh...are you maybe part Echani?"

In for a decicred, in for a wupiupi. He rubbed his mouth and looked down at the spheres. If she was his and Locke's kid, he'd left a pregnant girl behind just like his daddy did, and hadn't that ended well.

 

[Viers Connory]

Hearing that he was in the old squadron made her ears perk as the meaning behind the sentence flew over her head. ​

Her innocence was safe for the time being, but being the offspring of one Allyson Locke only spelled trouble for her in the future. ​

Yet, it was a name that didn't ring any bells minus the old patch that was on the chest of the jacket. "Cool beans. You gotta know my parents then!" She moved closer to the old man and his shiny ball instrument. ​

​

The name made her pause as she chewed on her lower lip and tapped her cheek just like her mother did when she was deep in thought while the name and the humanoid species moved about her memories. "Hmm, last name maybe, but that's because its here." She pointed to the name patch, "but I'm high key doubting any Echani blood is running through my veins. I'm a straight shooting, red blooded Corellian like my parents." Viers nodded with the uncanny pride that every Corellian is born with. ​

Sam Connory ​

 

[Sam Connory]

"Sure, kid, pull the other one. You're wearing her coat-" That was Locke's nametag, wasn't it, however faded. "-and you sound just like her, and feth, it's like I'm looking back twenty years. And I think you might even have my eyes. All that to say..."

He closed the case of musical spheres conclusively and sat back, pondering deep thoughts in his folding chair.

"No," he said, pitching his voice deep. "I am your father."

 

[Viers Connory]

Viers paused watching his movements and mannerisms. Her eyes looked into his, same color - but brown was pretty common though. Everything in her mind screamed while her heart wanted for it to be true. Disbelief washed over her face as she stared at the old scruffy Spacer and all she could say was.​

​

"Nooooo." Viers stared at him as she now stood directly in front of him - could this guy really be her dad? Who was her mom then - was it this Allyson Locke character? A hand rested against her forehead, pushing back her soft brown hair back from her face. "How are you my dad?" The old Jedi who took care of her had always told her that her parents were war heroes - killed by the Sith.​

​

But no, her dad was a street musician.​

Sam Connory ​

 

[Sam Connory]

"Um..."

Still seated, he clutched the musical-sphere case like a life preserver. The enormity of all this was settling in.

"My name's Connory - Sam Connory. Allyson Locke and I were kids together, teenagers. We split up - I swear I never knew she was pregnant. Now she's some war hero and I'm still me. My guess is you're adopted. Because feth...you're definitely hers, and the time lines up for you to be mine too."

He didn't exactly have a business card to give her. Instead he fished out the notepad he used for scribbling satirical rhymes. He wrote a comm number and held it out.

"I know it's a lot. Uh, if you ever want to talk or find out for sure - genetic testing or whatever - or if you need anything, anything at all, call me. If you're my kid I've got a lot of pitching in to catch up on."