Saga Jump -- Dear Diary Challenge Response - Entry 7 up

Title: Jump
Author: karebear
Characters: OC Riin Synski
Timeframe: Starts about 7 years before ?A New Hope?
Notes: Written for the [link=http://boards.theforce.net/fan_fiction_resource/b10304/25809540/p1/?95]Dear Diary 07[/link] Challenge

Entry 1: Bored College Kids

I started messing around with computers when I was a kid for something to do. I never figured I?d be crazy good at it. But that?s what wound up happening. I haven?t yet found a code I couldn?t crack, or a piece of machinery I couldn?t eventually work out how to fix.

That day, I finished my homework without thinking while I listened to my teacher lecture about the programming language I learned when I was nine. No one else paid attention either, but I?ve never been particularly good at making friends, so I mostly just listened to the others? conversations, let the sounds wash in and out. Not surprisingly, the talk was all about the war. Most of us figured we?d join the military. It was an easy way to earn respect and even some excitement, now that the attacks are amping up. No one expects their rebellion to last, but for now it gives bored college kids something to do.

I lived on Coruscant. From what I?ve heard, there are countless people in the galaxy that wonder why I?d ever want to leave. They don?t understand what it?s like: too many people and too many rules.

Dad wasn?t there when I get back from class but that?s not surprising. He works for the government and he works late a lot. I made myself a sandwich. His datapad was sitting on the table, and I was bored, and curious, so I picked it up and started messing around. I had no idea then, as my fingers clicked through possible password combinations, that everything I knew about life was about to be thrown out an airlock.

His firewalls were surprisingly difficult to get through, and I suppose that should have been my first clue. But I didn?t think about it at the time, because I was too excited by the first real hacking challenge I?d been faced with in recent memory.

I didn?t think about it until I got to the files - names I recognized, people I?d seen on the news, suspected rebel sympathizers and troublesome politicians. Some that had simply disappeared, and on my father?s datapad, they had simple red lines drawn through their names. And then I understood what my father really was. It scared the hell out of me.

 

Oooh very nice beginning.

It's unfortunate Riin discovered the hard way what her father does.

It should be interesting to see what she does now.

looking forward to more

 

Entry 2: Liars

I want my mom to know that I?m keeping this diary for her. She was a history professor at the university and she was obsessed with writing everything down, because she said that?s how, later on, we figure things out. She wrote down what happened and what she was feeling when she was in the hospital for seven months when I was thirteen. She died anyway.

But I?m alone on a passenger transport for upwards of a week with little else to do, so I?ll write down what happened, for her. And maybe because it will help me figure things out, because after I saw those files on dad?s datapad I certainly wasn?t thinking. I panicked. I took all of my money out of my credit account and bought a ticket on the first ship going as far away as I could afford, because I couldn?t stay.

My father is the greatest liar in the history of the galaxy. For my entire life, I believed he was a pacifistic low-level bureaucrat. He didn?t even like the military games I played on the holo. I think about it now and I wonder - was that because he didn?t want to think about killing people, or was it because he didn?t want me to think about it, and put the pieces together.

My thoughts are racing, and writing them down isn?t helping me come up with any answers.

I can?t imagine going back home, to our apartment where we would have to skirt around each other, where every time he left I?d have to think about what he was doing, assuming the worst every time. I don?t want to sit at the dinner table and pretend that things are normal.

I can?t help but wonder, would he kill me if they told him to?

 

Very nicely done!

 

This is gret .

I liked how you worked out a mystery/drama sory with star wars, its petty difficult to do that.

 

Very interesting Riin has run off. I wonder if her father will come looking for her?

I can?t help but wonder, would he kill me if they told him to?

Very chilling. No child should ever think such things.

Great update

 

Entry 3: Aliens

I feel like I know every detail of this ship already, having wandered through the common areas, the shared refresher, the meal stations, and back to my bunk countless times when I feel like I can?t sit still any longer. It?s only the third day.

I?ve grown bored with hacking the root systems of my datapad, so it?s back to the diary. I?ve procured a seat in the dining room, next to a viewport, even, but there?s nothing to watch but the mottled colors of hyperspace, and staring at those for too long gives me a headache. I?m actually using the datapad for once rather than taking it apart, trying to learn a little bit about my destination. It?s a place called Rudrig, near the end of the Perlemian Trade Route. I?ve never heard of it. My datapad says it had a reasonable university up until about ten years ago, when it sort of dropped off the radar, and that it probably still has a decent shipping industry, which explains why people still bother going there.

As I flip through the limited information, I?m watching those around me, trying to identify their species and languages. I get a few, miss a great deal more. Despite living on Coruscant, I really haven?t spent much time away from humans. My class at school was all human, and my neighbors too.

I know the Empire believes in human supremacy. I never really thought about it much. I don?t think I hate them or anything - I mean, I?ll buy things from non-humans, or sit next to them on the bus, but they have their own lives and cultures and languages, and maybe we?re supposed to leave each other alone.

I?ve stared at the blankness of this page for several minutes now. I feel like I should fill it, but I have no idea what I?m supposed to say. I could describe the texture of the chipping table or old uncomfortable chair or try to determine whether the paint should be classified as beige or off-white, but honestly, why?

In the movies, when the hero makes a discovery like mine, they go on this grand quest to change the future or something ridiculous like that. I don?t feel very epic. I?m just running away, and I know it?s a stupid thing to do and that I should turn back and go home, but I?ve always been too damn stubborn for my own good so I won?t. It?s starting to make me nervous now, not having a plan. Now that it?s been a few days, the worries start to push past the insane rush of the snap decision. Maybe I shouldn?t have just taken all my money out at once, that was too obvious. What about school? Should I have withdrawn from my classes? Will they bother to look for me when I don?t show up?

Dad will look. If I want any chance of hiding from him at all, I?ll have to avoid Imperial strongholds. It scares me that I?m scared of him.

For the first time, I realize just how alone I am.

 

Entry 4: Strangers

I had a little bit of money left over after buying a ticket on the passenger transport, enough to rent a cheap room in a boarding house in a not-so-great neighborhood near the spaceport where we landed. For the first few days, I spent a lot of my time hiding in the room. I hear enough that I?ve decided it?s probably best that I don?t know too much about the people around me. It seems much safer not to ask questions.

Then it got to the point where I had enough money for one more meal, maybe two, and I was forced to look for work. I threw what little gear I brought with me back into my bag and headed out into the city. The spaceport bustled around me, and I wandered near aimlessly, just looking, for a while.

It?s not like I?ve never been off Coruscant before. My parents dragged me to plenty of worlds, thought I needed to see nature and fresh air. I?m not stupid. I know a bit about how to blend in. My dad used to tell me that most people are so busy paying attention to themselves that they will ignore you so long as you do not give them a reason not to. But it?s hard not to act self-concious when it?s screamingly obvious how much I don?t belong here.

It?s hard to force myself to focus on everything around me. My mind has always wandered, ever since I was little. I always have to be tinkering with something, keeping myself busy.

As I made my way through the streets, I remember contemplating the logistics behind the image of a Gamorrean in a glitterity tutu that adorned the neon sign outside a bar, and trying to understand the sing-songy language a group of alien children chanted while playing an unfamiliar game in a nearby alley.

A few meters away, I heard the familiar combination of cursing and metallic clanks and bangs that signify someone attempting to kick a nonfunctional machine into working order. It was a sound I heard a lot in the work labs I used to hang out in after class.

I remember smirking, and turning in that direction. A moment later, I found myself standing over a pair of human-looking legs sticking out from under an outdated speeder.

?Need help?? I?d asked.

There was a long pause and more cursing, followed by the emergence of a shaggy-haired guy maybe five years older than me. He?d studied me for a moment, then grunted.

?Who the hell are you??

Instead of answering, I?d studied the power cell in his hand, and quickly explained that a charge that weak would never sustain his machine?s engine and would likely only exacerbate the problem. He was still there half an hour later when I returned with the right part, offering to fix it. I don?t know why I did it, except that I could never turn down a challenge and I needed a job and it was right there in front of me, and maybe some part of me just wanted to impress him. I fixed his speeder in five minutes, and he finally offered to buy me a drink. I found out his name is Trik. Neither of us mentioned where we were from or what we were doing on Rudrig.

We made no plans or promises, but I find myself wandering into that bar without reason, hoping to meet him again.

 

Somebody tell me why i didn't comment here before?

Not that i can right now, my mind is in state to give coherent praise to anything (except my bed) right now.
Somebody write me a note to remind me to come back.

I really like this. Can you put me on your pm-list. Don't want to lose it again.

 

Wow! Talk about fantastic! Why haven't I read this before? It's great! I can't wait to read more! Will you add me to the PM list?

 

I'm so thrilled by all the positive comments. You guys are awesome readers.

This whole thing is kind of an experiment for me. The character is based on one that I'm playing in an ongoing Star Wars d20 game. So to all those who said they're interested to see what happens... so am I. Also, I'm glad the experiment seems to be going well.

And to those who asked about a PM list... I'm pretty sure I've never had one before, but I'll definitely make one for this story and you'll definitely be on it.

Also, I thought about this because it was a question on the Resource Forum... what song would fit your OC? If anyone is interested, the answer for Riin at the moment is John Mayer's "Waiting On The World To Change"

 

That's my favorite song!

 

Author's Note: I listen to music all the time, especially while writing. As such, I'm going to try a Recommended Listening thing with this story, coupling each entry with a song that seems to fit with it. I may even get around to publishing an iTunes playlist for it eventually. The song for this entry is Do What You Want by Ok Go

Entry 5: Grownups

Already I begin to lament the pointlessness of this diary: it?s not like anyone will ever read it, and even if they do, I rarely seem to have anything interesting to say. I don?t want to spend all of my time talking about my interactions with Trik for fear that this might turn into an idealized romance novel, but I suppose talking about sitting in my room alone is even more boring.

Also, let me clarify right here and now: I am not involved in anything romantic with Trik or anyone else. He is the one person I know on this planet and thus I look forward to seeing him. That?s it.

We meet up every few days. There?s no set schedule or anything, but cheap alcohol and card games that he usually wins and I sometimes break even on lure us to the bar. With his help it?s easy to find jobs. On every planet in the galaxy, there are people who need things fixed. He knows the ones that are worth working for. He freelances for the shipping company when they need extra help, making quick hops offworld once or twice a week. When he?s not around I work a lot, to keep myself busy. I hate being bored. Plus, I have trouble sleeping. It?s too quiet here, but I suppose in comparison to Coruscant everywhere?s too quiet. I compensate by blasting loud rock music through my headphones most of the time.

I know that many of my jobs aren?t technically legal, especially since Trik discovered my ability to hack Holonet. The Empire locks down a lot, with encryption and censorship and firewalls. Turns out there are plenty of people willing to pay to get through it. I wonder what my teachers would say if they knew what I was using their lessons on coding to do. I?ve known since I was about thirteen that they were grooming me to work for the military, fixing war machines or creating info-walls to make it more difficult for people like me to break through state secrets. I never figured I?d be a criminal, but I never put much thought into what it would be like taking orders as an officer of the Navy either. I probably wouldn?t have liked it much.

I never thought I?d have a problem supporting myself. With my skills, it?s easy. Still, it?s weird to imagine that only a few weeks ago I was still a child, living with my father, going to school, and now I?m doing what most of the adults in the galaxy do: working, paying rent, buying my own groceries... I?ve practically taken care of myself since my mom died, but calling myself grown up seems like a very sudden and major change. On Coruscant, I?m not even old enough to sign a contract. Still, no one on Rudrig looks at me twice. Maybe on the Rim it?s different. Maybe I?m already a lot more grown up than I realized.

 

I actually have to go to school right now, but I'll be back to comment later in the day.

 

I got behind! But I love what I've read so far.

 

This is cool. I want to see more entries! Add me to your PM list.

 

Entry 6: Spacers (Recommended Listening: All Systems Go by Boxcar Racer)

I?d been on Rudrig for about a month, long enough that I could no longer quickly account for each individual day. Trik met me in the common area of the boarding house this time, after he?d been away for a few days. ?You?re coming off-world with me,? he?d stated matter-of-factly.

I?d gotten used to skipping the usual greetings and small-talk with him, but still, this caught me off-guard. I?d responded with one of my usual sarcastic retorts, this time inquiring as to how he could assume that without even asking me. He?d replied right away with the remarkably insightful observation that I would find being stuck forever on a dying Rim-world a slow torture, and that I feared being left behind and left alone, and that he?d found a man looking for crew on a light freighter, and he?d signed on as pilot and volunteered me as mechanic. And as much as I?d wanted to turn down the offer just to spite him, I was forced to admit he was right. Already, I was starting to grow restless and paranoid, staying in the same place. I want, need, to move around, see the stars, fix things.

So, once again, I packed up my things and boarded an unfamiliar ship to an unknown destination. This time it was a YT-1930.

The captain?s name is Samuel. He is no older than Trik and possibly younger, but with the distinctive air of someone with something to hide. This suits me fine, and it?s clear that the ship has been treated none-too-gently in it?s admittedly short life, giving me plenty to work with. Trik and I stay on the ship most of the time, while Samuel goes out and returns with cargo in various shades of illegal.

We hop from world to world on the fringes of space. The pay is sporadic but enough to cover the cost of ship fuel and all-we-can-eat protein bars.

I am optimistic.

 

Hmmm. She's a spacer now!

Hope she doesn't get arrested.

Thanks for the PM.

 

Entry 7: Survivors (Recommended Listening: Oasis - Live Forever)

It turns out space is more boring than I?d first hoped. The hours pass slowly. There is rarely anything to look at beyond our collection of outdated holo-films, and usually not much to do but try and fail to comprehend the temperamental game table. Despite my best efforts to fix it, the projector winks in and out seemingly at random, erasing any progress made in the current game. I?m too old to whine about boredom like the little kids down the street I used to look after, but we all feel it. This particular trip is longer than most, more than a standard week. Samuel spends much of the time holed up in his quarters, hiding even from us.

Trik said something to me early on that?s stuck in my mind, though. ?Trust me,? he?d announced without even a hint of his usual sarcasm, ?It?s better to be bored.?

I wondered what he meant until this morning, when a sudden jerk pulled us violently out of hyperspace. I?ve never heard alarms so insistent. Their loud, high-pitched squeal pounded into my brain until I seemed incapable of thought, and I remember being surprised that Trik?s cursing somehow rang above them. Amazingly, he made sure that I was unhurt before sprinting toward the cockpit. Normally, he?s somewhat lazy, putting work off as long as possible, so it impressed me how quickly he moved, how competently he slipped into the pilot?s seat, punching up screens and dials, like he did this all the time. I hurried to help, feeling utterly useless.

What I saw through the viewport was like something out of a nightmare: not the Imperial Interdictor I?d initially feared, but I?m not sure if the small armada of hastily patched uglies was better or worse. ?Pirates,? I remember Samuel saying from behind me, sounding strangely calm. I don?t know how he got there, but I remember his voice, and the next thing I knew, he had disappeared again. A moment later, laser bolts punched out through space, some coming from our ship.

Trik ordered me to strap into the copilot?s seat and work out a hyperspace jump, and I remember staring at the screens myself, forcing myself to ignore everything but the familiarity of a computer in front of me, analyzing patterns, numbers and readings, like putting a puzzle together, the nagging voice in my brain reminding me that if I messed this up we would be dead.

The computer took less than a minute to find the coordinates, but it was the longest minute of my life. Our ship shook like an earthquake, the squealing alarms increasing in pitch with every hit. The gravity generator could barely keep up with Trik?s evasive maneuvers. I don?t remember pulling the hyperdrive lever, but one second a complete series of numbers flashed in front of my eyes, and the next the starlines swam across the viewport, erasing the hostile ships swarming around us.

For a moment, I could only concentrate on breathing again, and Trik turned to me. ?You did good, Riin.? I nodded, not wanting to admit how close I?d come to wetting myself.

It?s taken hours for my heart rate and breathing to slow enough to rest, though night cycle rightly began a long time ago. Mom was right though, there is a calming effect to writing it down, reconstructing what happened in sequence. Like maybe by doing this, I can vent the terror, pretend it happened to someone else. At the very least, words on a page can?t hurt me anymore.

I?m still alive. That?s what matters.

 

At elast Riin didn't drop down the social ladder to the muddy, ugly ground. And her semi-legal work, well, what else can she do her age? And the Rim is not exactely know for legal things, either.

And, indeed, boring is better. If you're boarde, get a pad and write a stroy, that's what I do.

At the very least, words on a page can?t hurt me anymore.

Lucky you.

 

I'm glad that they got out of that all right!

Can't wait for the next entry.

Thanks for the PM.