AN: Hi peoples! I've been in a bit of a Star Wars mode recently and decided to expand upon a few of my characters backgrounds, going so far back as to cover their births. I've rated this PG13, as I don't really see anything too touchy about birth. If however, birth freaks you out, you might want to skip over the first few pages. Please feel free to critique and RR.

Cheers!

In the dead of night two Dugs crouched over their fellow in the cramped darkness of the servants quarters. The room was scarcely bigger than a closet and arranged so that the three female dugs slept in hammocks, one above the other. Tonight however, one of them lies prone on the floor, the other two watching her intently. The female lying on the ground strained, her camel-like face contorted in a silent grimace and her long neck arched. Lying on her back, her stomach bulged and her hind legs, which had adapted into the primary manipulators, were spread and raised. Her breath quickened and a moan of pain escaped her.

"Hush, Tansaca." Valhan, the eldest of the small group said. "We cannot wake Veeak."

Tansaca turned her head towards Valhan, sweat dripping from her brow and cursed under her breath.

"Will she be alright?" Asked the youngest of the three; she was not even mature yet. She was watching Tansaca with unabashed concern and interest. Valhan nodded before shushing Sundsin.

"Take her hand." She said. Sundsin obediently took hold of Tansaca's hand and grimaced as the other female gripped her with such ferocity she thought her fingers might break. Tansaca took a deep shuddering breath, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as another contraction wound through her body. She clenched her every muscle, now leaning forwards and pushing as though her life depended on it and as the contraction lessened, she slumped backwards, body damp with sweat and holding her cries of pain inside although it must of shown on her face for Valhan allowed a rare moment of concern by gently stroking the struggling females brow. The anatomy of the Dug body did not make birth an easy affair. Their heads were large in relation to their bodies and as such, they were born early, blind and completely helpless. But even the shortened gestation could not ease the infant's passage into the world. Their hips were narrow from the smallness of their bodies and birth was an excruciating ordeal.

Inwardly Valhan was deeply worried. Although Dugs rarely showed care or concern to one another, the emotions did exist. It took exceptional situations like these for the emotions to stir. Valhan herself was well past middle age and had given birth several times. She knew how it felt, what a drain it was to even form the fetus. Tansaca had not been given extra rest once their Gran master, Veeak, had realized that she was pregnant. To him, Tansaca was just another servant, a Dug, a being of no importance. He had not shortened her workdays, nor given her easier work to do. She was not even given extra food. Valhan had watched with increasing nervousness as Tansaca's body began to weaken over the four-month gestation. Her limbs had shriveled, and while her breasts swelled, the rest of her torso looked drawn and pinched. She had collapsed once, while trying to move a piece of furniture from their master's bedroom to a guest bedroom. Veeak had beaten the pregnant Dug until Valhan and Sundsin rushed to her aid and dragged her back to the servant's quarters. Both Valhan and Sundsin had received harsh reprimands for acting against their master, and had had so much extra work heaped upon them that they had ached for days afterwards.

As Tansaca tried in vain to quiet a bleat of pain as her body shuddered in another forceful contraction, Valhan realized she was unsure weather the young mother would survive the birth.

"Push, Tansaca, push and it will be over." She said, taking Tansaca's other hand. Tansaca lay, breathing weakly, her eyes unfocused and then grimaced, arching her back as another contraction gripped her. She pushed mightily, and a gush of fluid flowed from between her legs. Valhan breathed in relief to see that there was not a large amount of blood in the fluid. Tansaca was at least not hemorrhaging.

"Sundsin, grab me some of those cloths we took the other day." Valhan hissed, not taking her eyes off of Tansaca as the other female writhed in pain. Sundsin did as she was told; climbing agilely up to her hammock and removing five towels they had stolen from their master's laundry. He may have kept extra food from Tansaca, but they were going to make sure her birth went as well as it could. Sundsin handed them over to Valhan who placed them on the ground before Tansaca to soak up the birthing fluid.

Again Tansaca fell limply backwards after the contraction had forced its way from her but no sooner had her head fallen to the floor than she was forced up again by her arching back. The contractions were coming closer together. She was unable to keep a cry of pain from escaping her. Valhan hushed her again, but she did it merely out of habit.

"Push, push!" She whispered urgently. "One good push and the head will be out."

A whimper escaped Tansaca as she prepared herself for another, bone wrenching, skin tearing push. She pushed down with every bit of strength still left in her and continued to push for an eternity it seemed.

"There's the head!" Sundsin said, eagerly.

"Keep going, Tansaca." Valhan said, now dabbing Tansaca's sweat drenched face with one of the towels. She continued to push, her teeth gritted and her groans of pain gaining volume. Valhan did not have the heart to hush her. With an exhausted cry, she fell limp, breathing heavily and her heart hammering against her ribs. She could not believe the pain of it. It felt as though every bit of her body was being torn in two.

"One more good push like that and it'll be out. Come on, breath!" Valhan said, forgetting to whisper.

Tansaca squeezed her eyes shut again. There was no way she could do that again! Just no way! Valhan appeared blearily before her eyes as the older female leaned over her.

"Come on! You're not giving up! It's almost done, you can't give up now!"

To Tansaca's pain dulled surprise, she felt Valhan take her under her shoulders and lift her into a squatting position. "Sundsin help me hold her up. This way may be easier for her."

Tansaca weakly felt Sundsin's arms support her other side and then another contraction was upon her. She screamed as everything within her convulsed downwards. She was vaguely aware of Valhan muffling her scream with one of her cloths. She pushed until she thought her body must surely turn itself inside out, could feel herself tearing and a gush of fluid. She again went limp, but Sundsin and Valhan held her and lowered her to the floor.

Valhan had caught the baby before it had fallen to the floor. She grabbed the nearest unsoiled cloth and began to dab the infant clean. She placed her mouth to each tiny nostril and sucked. She spat the clogs to the floor and the baby, now able to breath, let out a tiny mewling wail. As exhausted as she was, the pitiful little sound roused Tansaca enough that she lifted her head and peered at her firstborn through pain blurred eyes. Valhan cut the umbilical with a carving knife she had used on the masters meal only yesterday.

"It's a male." Sundsin said to the new mother excitedly. Tansaca nodded to herself, pleased, and watched as Valhan continued to clean him, dipping the cloth into their only pitcher of clean water and dabbing it across him. The baby squirmed feebly; it's limbs moving slowly in every direction. Tansaca felt another dull contraction, but this one seemed to be happening to her from a great distance. As the afterbirth was delivered, Valhan handed the baby over to Sundsin and then wrapped the placenta and afterbirth in the cloth they had laid below Tansaca. They would have to wait until morning to dispose of it.

Sundsin had never held a baby before, much less one as new to the world as this. At only seven years old herself, she felt a certain kinship to the tiny creature in her arms.

"Let me see him." Tansaca said weakly, unable to so much as sit up. Sundsin handed the baby over to her thin, outstretched arms. Tansaca held him before her, surprised at the weight of the infant. So there's where all my food has been going. She thought to herself. The baby Dug looked much like an adult, except that his head was larger in proportion, the snout much shorter and the closed eyes bigger. He as of yet lacked the sharp brows of adult males, and the vestigial ridge, or the dangling flaps of skin. His arms and legs were rather shorter and chubbier. Tansaca was immediately smitten with her small son and as he made a series of high whimpering sounds, trying to suckle on her thumb, her heart all but melted. She held the small, warm baby against her chest, breathing in his scent and delighting in his small suckling whimpers.

"He looks very healthy, Tansaca." Valhan said, with a nod of approval. "You've done well."

"No thanks to Veeak." Sundsin snorted. Already, the young Dug was showing signs of distrust and insolence towards authority figures—something most Dugs exhibited their entire lives.

"No, no thanks to Veeak. We'll smuggle you some extra food tomorrow, Tansaca."

"Won't he make you try to work tomorrow?" Sundsin asked, watching the baby with her head cocked at an angle.

"Probably." Tansaca said, her voice quiet with weariness.

"We'll talk him out if it." Valhan said and the tone in her voice made Tansaca believe it. Valhan draped the last clean towel over Tansaca and her baby and Tansaca welcomed the warmth of it.

"Sleep now. The baby will be fine." Valhan said. "If you need me, ask." With that the older Dug climbed up and into her hammock and curled beneath her worn blanket. Sundsin took one last look at the new, tiny Dug and followed her elder's example. Tansaca held her baby to her chest, nuzzling him with her snout. She gazed at him for a few sleepy moments and then, too weak to fight it any longer, she too fell asleep.

She awoke far too early, as the other two got ready for the day of work stretched out before them. Sundsin leapt lightly from her top hammock to the floor and, upon seeing that Tansaca had awoken, walked over to her curiously.

"Is he asleep still?" Sundsin asked.

Tansaca nodded sleepily and lay her head back down. She was in no mood for conversation with the young girl or to awaken the baby and hand him to her, which was undoubtedly what she wanted.

"Let her sleep, Sundsin." Valhan said from above. It took her a bit longer to get going in the mornings, especially after her lack of rest.

"I don't have to listen to you." Sundsin said sulkily.

"You'll listen if you know what's good for you." Valhan said in such a voice and with such a fierce glare that Sundsin relented, her fin-like ears folded back submissively.

"We'll explain to Veeak that you gave birth during the night and are too weak to work today." Valhan said as she pulled on her drab work clothes. "Even he could not deny such a thing."

"He'll try to." Said Tansaca. She stole a glance at her baby, who was still curled against her chest beneath the towel blanket.

Valhan grunted dismissively under her breath and the two of them headed out of the door and to work.

"I'll bring you some breakfast." Sundsin said before her lanky frame disappeared from view. As the door to their quarters shut, Tansaca sighed and experimentally flexed her arms. Her lips pulled back tightly; apparently anything connected to her pelvis still hurt. Body sore from lying on the floor all night, she braced her self and stood. Dugs had evolved so that they used their arms as legs, and their legs as arms. Tansaca felt incredibly off balance and her head swam. She took an experimental step forwards and when she did not fall, she climbed painfully into her hammock. She could feel torn skin reopen and start to bleed but she did not care much. She pulled her blanket around her and curled up.

Her movements had awoken the baby, who began to fidget and to make his mewling whimpers. At first she found these soothing until they gained in volume and urgency. Aggrieved and somewhat annoyed, she examined him closely. The eyes were still shut tight—but Valhan said they would open in a week or so. Perhaps he was hungry? Experimentally she placed him to her breasts. The tiny mouth found one and he immediately began to suckle. Tansaca started at the odd sensation before relaxing to it and gazed down at him as he ate, still making tiny mewling sounds through the suckling.

What should I name you? Tansaca thought to herself. I could name you after your father…but that's not fitting. He may never even see you. Hmm. She winced suddenly as he clamped down a bit to hard upon her nipple. You've got some power to you already. You'll be a strong Dug one day. Maybe you'll even get out of here, away from this house, and away from the Gran too. That thought seemed to stick with her and she found that she quite liked the idea of her son escaping the rule of the Gran. I'll name you Zebthra. She smiled down at him. Liberated.

True to her word, Sundsin reappeared around ten o'clock that morning, laden with Hox fruit and a few strips of Teemesh meat. She entered the small room looking harassed.

"Veeak's in a bad mood." She said bitterly, as she passed the platter of food up to Tansaca who found her appetite now raging.

"Because I'm not working?" She asked, ravenously biting into the strips of meat.

"That and some business deal he made went sour."

"Oh."

Sundsin watched her curiously. "Is the baby awake? I wanted to see him again if I could."

Tansaca looked down and saw that Zebthra had dozed off, warm and milk-full against her chest. "He's asleep again but you can come up if you want to."

Sundsin smiled slightly and climbed up to the second hammock, holding on to the support ropes with all of her limbs. "Has he even woken up today?"

"Once. He was hungry." Tansaca explained.

"Have you decided what to call him?"

"Zebthra."

Sundsin regarded the little Dug. "I hope he does end up liberated—he won't get anything if he stays here. It's a good name." She said with a nod. "Speaking of which…I should go back. Veeak will have a nexu if I don't have the foyer spotless within the hour. He's having an important guest over this afternoon."

Tansaca nodded as the younger female departed, once again leaving her alone with her son. Only once before had she ever had a day off in her life, and then she had been too ill to even move. With a warm and contented baby snuggled against her, she enjoyed this day off far more.

Worlds away another mother was running for her life. The female Twi'lek ran as best she could, hindered by her protruding stomach—at eight months pregnant, it was all she could do to run the length of the grimy city block without collapsing from exhaustion. But she had no choice in the matter. She could either run, or turn back and accept the fate that her master would bestow her. She did not fancy the prospect of being sold yet again to an even worse master, or the very real chance of being forced to give up her unborn child. She did not mind being beaten; she had been beaten before. But she would not give up her child.

Many of her fellow dancers had not understood her adamant refusal to lose the child early, or to at least give it up upon birth. To them, the prospect of an unwanted birth, the product of an unwanted encounter with one of their master's drunken guests no less, was a thing of great shame. Not only that, it put her value in the eyes of master Tragis as something below that of a poison tester. She had not been in very good stead, not at all.

Halai herself could not quite understand why she wouldn't agree with her fellow dancers suggestions. She had no money, nowhere to run, just thinking about the Twi'lek male who had forced himself on her and had sired her child made her feel ill, and her master had become increasingly annoyed with her inability to properly dance. No—no one would blame her for aborting, or selling the child. But for some inexplicable reason, she could not.

She had never truly bonded with any of the other dancers. Most of these were Twi'lek so there was some comradity there if only because of the shared ancestry but they were so determined to keep on master Tragis's good side that they tended to think only about their own gain and the best way that they themselves could profit from a given situation. Any bonds formed between them were superficial and liable to crumble the moment the master's whims changed. There were two Rodian females, but they kept mostly to themselves, conversing in their native tongue and casting their huge dark eyes about their surroundings as though plotting to break out at any moment. The master had gotten lucky and won an exquisitely beautiful Zeltron, whose actions on and off the dance floor often repulsed Halai. The Zeltron, Nehna, seemed to truly love her lot in life as plaything of the rich and corrupt, and would throw her self at even the most repulsive of beings. Her inexhaustible cries often kept Halai up at night.

It was nighttime on Nar Shadda that Halai hated the most. In those deep hours before dawn when the master and his group of sycophants had finally fallen into a drugged, drunken stupor, it was quiet enough to think. If she was awake, and sleep had been harder to come by as her pregnancy furthered, she found herself wondering how her life had come to this. She sometimes dreamed of her life when she had been a child. Her parents had been wealthy and lived in an estate-apartment on Corescant. She dreamed of the fountain she had loved to splash in, the whisper bird her father had bought for her from one of Corescants many exotic animal traders, the way the sunlight glinted off the huge gleaming buildings in vibrant oranges and pinks.

But her father had made a few enemies; not all of his business deals had been legal. He had been killed. She vividly remembered entering their ransacked home with her mother to find him lying face down in a pool of his blood, a clean blaster shot to his head, and surrounded by thugs of many different species. She and her mother had then been taken, sold to a life of slavery and humiliation.

Tears still stung her eyes when she remembered the day she'd turned twelve and had been purchased by a seedy Corellian gangster and had been taken, screaming, from her mother, who remained behind with their previous Hutt master. Often, at night, she wondered if her mother was still alive or if…

Other times she awoke to the image of her father, the hole in his head still bleeding, his body, limp. Times like these, adult or not, she wanted to run to one of the other dancers, shake them awake, profess her deep fear and sadness and to be comforted from her woes. But that allusion had long since passed; no one here would comfort her.

After becoming pregnant though, she lay awake at night and felt the tiny being stirring within her and she smiled to herself. She knew other dancers that had been forced felt only hatred towards their fetus as it reminded them of the rape and they lost it as soon as possible. Halai did not blame the fetus although she strove to keep all thoughts involving the father from her mind or else risk depression. She would hold her hands clasped over her steadily growing stomach and hum tunes she had learned what seemed like lifetimes ago and tell her child that it wouldn't know the hardness of a masters hand, or the fear of being sold. She promised it a life worth living. She promised it hope. As if in recognition of its mother's wishes, the fetus would stir. The feeling gave her comfort when nothing else did and her resolve for a better life for her child gave her strength where apathy and bitterness had once dwelt. No, she could never give it up, either through abortion or through selling it. It was hers; the only thing in the galaxy that she owned and she would die before allowing harm to come to it.

Tragis Of'gan proved to be the problem. Her Bothan master desired all of his possessions to be transcendent in beauty, grace and poise. Once he noticed the slight bulge to Halai's form he was quick to interrogate her. Painfully, she described the situation and the male who had forced himself on her, feeling tears brimming in her eyes but refusing to let them fall. She felt such hatred towards Tragis that she did not dare show weakness of any kind around him. He had then beaten her, as she knew he would, for possibly being so foolish as to allow such a thing to happen. Halai bit back furious retorts that it was he who had wanted her to dance for the Twi'lek and impress him, not her. She held every one of her cries inside. Afterwards he had told her to abort it. She defied him passionately.

When it became obvious to Tragis that Halai showed no intention of losing her fetus, he had contemplated sedating her and having a medical droid do it anyway. After all she was a wonderful dancer, seductive but not trashy. He knew some of his patrons enjoyed such shows and many requested her dances more than once. But he would be damned if was going to pay for such a thing. He had other dancers after all, all of them beautiful and graceful. Personally, he had trouble distinguishing between Twi'leks and if he were to sell her, he himself would no more miss her than he would a flea spider. Her stomach was making dancing impossible for her and if she could not work, she did not stay. Feeding and clothing a slave when that slave did no work was ludicrous. If the child was female, he was certain he could get a buyer for her—the child could be trained from an early age as a dancer. But if the child was male—well, he'd findsome gangster or crime lord to take her off his hands. He might even be able to make a profit.

Halai had greatly feared for herself and her unborn child then. She had heard it from some of the other dancers that Tragis was planning on selling her but had so far been unable to find a buyer willing to pay for a Twi'lek dancer that could not dance and was prone to throwing up several times a day. Halai was both heartened by this and fearful. Maybe, she had dared to hope, maybe no one will want me and I'll be able to have my baby. But what would Tragis do then? Would he force me to loose it? Or maybe he will find a buyer…and only the most desperate and disgusting being would put up with a pregnant dancer slave. How ever she looked at the situation, there was no pleasant outcome for her or her child. I'll have to get away…I'll be on the street…but I'll be my ownmaster there. It was a mark of her desperation that she was even considering running out into the slum and crime ridden streets of Nar Shadda with no credits and expecting.

For a time, it seemed that she might not have to make that decision—for at seven months into her pregnancy, Tragis won the Zeltron, Nehna, in a game of sabacc from a fellow crime lord. Nehnas willingness to dance for and to pleasure any being distracted Tragis for several weeks. Halai hoped he might forget her, or possibly be lenient enough to let her have her baby, now that his newest acquisition was receiving such rave reviews. She knew this was a foolish hope, and it was proved just that when Tragis called her to his chambers to announce that he had found a buyer for her. When he elaborated that the buyer was an up and coming Hutt crime lord with a penchant for leasing slaves out for sex with certain of his clients, her mind was immediately made up.

Which had then led to her current situation. Halai was stumbling now, she was vaguely aware of it, down a narrow alleyway. Her feet skidded on refuse, garbage and things she could not even name. She had fought to put as much distance as she could between Tragis's manor and herself before morning, and her lack of credits meant that she must do that on foot. Air taxis didn't operate out of the kindness of their hearts. Panic roiled within her. She dreaded the though that Tragis would hunt her down, although inwardly she thought that he must be glad to be rid of her regardless of the lost credits. Mostly, she feared that another being, or group of beings would come across her and absorb her right back into the slave trade. She plodded on and on, with no clear idea of where she was heading or what she was going to do. Desperation drove her onwards. Don't worry, young one, I won't let them take you from me. No one can take you from me.

"Hey there sweetheart, need a hand?"

Halai had been so doggedly pursuing her chosen path that she had failed to clearly focus upon her surroundings. Her head whipped upwards, lekku falling across her back. Two beings stood shadowed before her, one smoking a roll of something foul smelling, the other leaning coolly against the grimy permacrete of the nearest building. She halted immediately, glancing about for any means of escape. The way she had come was clear, although the thought of running back towards Tragis made her break out in a sweat.

"Now, now, sweetheart. We won't hurt you. Just come on over an we'll take good care of you." The smoking being said.

"Stay back! Stay away from me!" Halai bit out. Fear for her child lent her voice a threatening edge. Shaking, she removed a blaster she had stolen from one of Tragis's guards—she had never been so glad for the Gamorreans stupidity. Her hand shook around the grip and the two figures noticed.

"Hey, come on now. I bet you've never even fired one of those have you?" The smoker said again. He stepped boldly from the deep shadows cast by a flickering glow lamp. He was human, paunchy, greasy haired and pockmarked. His hand rested lightly on his own, and much more practiced blaster.

"I wouldn't want to find out if I were you." Halai said, taking a tentative step backwards.

"Ooh, she feisty." The second being said and now he too strode forwards into the weak light. He was a large, powerfully built Devaronian, dressed in some type of reptile skin that hung close to his intimidating frame. He leered at her, showing mossy fangs.

"I'm warning you!" Halai said, both hands now tight upon the quivering blaster.

"Please, Yum-Yum, I take one bite and you gone." The Devaronian made a lewd gesture with his long tongue. Shaking all over now, Halai took another step backwards. The Human moved closer and the Devaronian dropped all pretenses and took two quick steps so that he was right in front of her.

It happened so quickly that for a moment Halai was only aware of the acrid stench of ozone and the Devaronians cries of pain. She stole one terrified glance at the refuse littered floor of the alley to find the Devaronian clutching his upper left chest, black blood oozing in between his thick red fingers. She turned and ran.

Hurtling frantically down the alleyway back the direction she had come, Halai could hear incoherent shouting from the human and moans of pain from the Devaronian but these were drowned out by the rampant thudding of her heart. She'd never shot anyone before. Immediately the image of her fathers gunned down corpse flashed before her minds eye. She wanted to throw up and had to fight the urge to fling the blaster away in disgust and horror. The commotion of the blaster shot and the ensuing ruckus of her two would-be-attackers would be sure to draw attention. She whipped down a side alley and faded into the darkness once more, her twin lekku sliding out of sight.