Chapter 3: An Interlude

The cantina would busier than usual tonight. Every time she fought Shol's business saw an uptick in popularity. It was a game to the free (male) citizens of Mos Espa; who would be the one to break Gardulla's pet. After an exhibition in the arenas there were always more contestants than usual. For a few days, perhaps even a week or two, her body would suffer more abuse than Lyyr had become accustomed to receiving. Shol expected her to entertain every single 'gentleman' who came seeking her company. Lyyr would only be able to refuse so many before Shol took matters into his own hands.

Shol expected his 'girls' to obey him unconditionally. He allowed Lyyr to rebel because it amused him to watch her struggle in vain. When she fought off the customers too much, or it looked like he was in danger of losing a loyal customer because of her stubborn refusal to be used for another's pleasure; Shol had her subdued. He would drug her, tie her down, or simply hit her over the head with a heavy object. The fact that the majority of the time Lyyr was unconscious hardly bothered the paying customer. Shol's place catered to the type of clientele that did not care about what sort of condition the goods came in; just as long as it was a warm body. Some did not even care about that.

As much as she detested fighting in the arenas, Lyyr hated working for Shol even more. At least in the arenas Lyyr had nearly complete control over what happened to her. At the cantina what options she had were taken from her. All so some fool could go and brag to his companions that he had slept with Gardulla's favorite slave. The fact that Lyyr had been rendered unconscious by Shol's bullyboys was usually omitted by the bragger; they always told the story as if they had gotten the better of her.

Lyyr knew that what was done to her was rape. But she was a slave with a Hutt as a master. She was not and never would be given the basic rights given to any sentient being in the galaxy (despite what little so-called respect Gardulla felt inclined to show her). As a slave she had no rights and therefore was far game. At least some of the other girls working at the cantina did so because they had chosen to become prostitutes. The rest, like Lyyr, were slaves and Shol was their master. In that regard at least Lyyr was spared. Shol was answerable to Gardulla for any damage done to her in the course of her working hours. Although that did not save her from much, it did mean that Shol couldn't kill her. A number of his girl had mysteriously 'disappeared' after failing to perform to his standards one too many times.

Shol ran his brothel with an iron fist. He had only two rules that he expected everyone, prostitute and customer both, to follow. Failing to do so resulted in consequences that many found harsh. Even from a Mos Espa business man. Shol's first rule was that the client was always right; as long as he had enough money anything was permissible. The second, only Shol was allowed to leave visible and lasting marks on the girls. If a client did anything to ruin one of the girls looks the individual paid with a chunk out of his own skin. Shol had quite a number of dried hides in various sizes (and species) mounted in glass cases above his desk. They served as an ever present reminder of the brutal consequences to those paying for services.

Lyyr entered the cantina by the back way. She did not feel like announcing her presence by entering at the bar and weaving her way through the drunks. More than likely a number of customers had already paid for an hour in her company and she did not want to encourage anyone else. Therefore she took the entrance from the alley, trying not to step in the piles of rubbish and waste that the sandstorm had covered with its howling winds.

The backroom was nothing more than a small space behind the stage and partitioned off from a corridor that was lined with private rooms as well as Shol's office. In fact Shol's office was the first door one came too after leaving the backroom and was directly across from the entrance to the bar. Access to the private rooms and the girl's was only granted after Shol's approval. For those who couldn't pay for a private room there was the bar and the stage. There scantily clad dancers constantly performed for the entertainment of drunken fools.

Lyyr had barely stepped inside when Shakti, one of the many Twi'lek dancers Shol owned, stopped her.

"Shol's stuta uba." Shakti informed her. Lyyr anticipated that to be the case, so she wasn't surprised that someone told her that the minute she entered the place. (Shol's looking for you)

"Koose cheekta nei!" Shol's voice rang out before Lyyr could even respond to Shakti. Torkin, one of the bouncers, grabbed her by the arm and fog marched her down to Shol's office. (Bring her to me).

Lyyr went quietly, but only because Torkin had grabbed her left arm and if she tried to struggle out of his grasp she risked undoing the work Jira had done to patch up her shoulder. She knew that the wound would be re-opened by the end of the night. But that didn't mean she had to hasten the inevitable.

Torkin brought her as far as the door then unceremoniously shoved her inside the room shutting the door behind her. Shol's office was nearly barren, the only things worthy of attention being his desk and the wall of hides behind it. He kept any signs of prosperity to his private quarters and to some of the more expensive rooms rented out for his client's usage.

Shol was a tall, well muscled human man in his mid-forties. There was nothing remarkable about him; brown hair and brown eyes an average face. He had a knack for looking at others as if they were inanimate objects; only useful to him as tools. He was currently regarding Lyyr as if she were service droid that had performed unexpectedly well. Lyyr knew that Shol's apparent indifference concealed a pitiless disposition that was positively sadistic in nature.

"You must have captured the attention of someone important today, shag." Shol greeted her not bothering to get up from behind his desk. "I've received a large sum so the man could have you for as long as he wishes. You will make sure his time and money is spent to his satisfaction. I want no complaints about you."

At that statement Shol got up from his desk and made his way leisurely towards Lyyr. He stopped directly in front of her; forcing her to tilt her head back in order to look him in the eye. He studied her possessively for a moment before smiling; it was a smile that did not meet his eyes.

"If I hear anything else about your unwillingness then I'm afraid I'll have to teach you a lesson." He did not sound apologetic but instead excited. Lyyr knew all about Shol's special lessons, she had been given more than she wanted to recall. There was a time where the prospect of being raped, again, by Shol was enough to make her toe the line, but not today. She could no longer bring herself to care about what happened to her.

He seemed frustrated by her lack of reaction but let it pass. Shol went to open the door to reveal that Torkin was waiting outside.

"Torkin will take you to the assigned room where you will prepare yourself according to the client's wishes." He dismissed her. "Make sure she washes the filth of the arenas off,' he said to Torkin. "Once you are presentable Torkin will bring the client to you."

Lyyr turned to leave then but was stopped at the door by Shol grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing her to look at him.

"Do not disappoint me Dysar."

….

Torkin lead her to the most expensive room in the cantina. It was also, coincidentally one of the few rooms with a proper bed and its own fully functioning refresher; one where no expense had been spared. It had both a turbo shower and sonic bath along with the other amenities. The only thing it lacked was privacy – only a sheer curtain separated it from the rest of the room.

Lyyr saw her chosen costume laid out for her on the bed. A tiny bikini made out of translucent silk scarves that would leave nothing to the imagination. Torkin gestured towards the turbo shower before leaving the room. Just in case she failed to grasp his meaning he decided to add words to his gesture.

"Do clean up Lyyr," he spoke gently, even affectionately to her despite his previous treatment of her. Torkin was actually one of the few people Lyyr could call friend outside of her makeshift family. "I can see some dried blood on your neck. And please, if not for your own sake then as a favor to me, play along tonight. I don't relish the idea of having to carry you home again."

She smiled wanly at him and patted his cheek. "No promises."

He shook his head in exasperation at that. "Let me know when you're ready," he shot over his shoulder as he left the room.

Lyyr took the clothing off the bed and set it on the vanity table that was next to the sonic bath. She quickly undressed herself and stepped into the turbo shower. The quicker she readied herself the sooner she would find out what koochoo (idiot) spent so much money for the debatable pleasure of her company. Once she knew who she was dealing with she could decided whether or not she'd 'play along' as Torkin put it.

Once out of the shower she quickly dried off and then wriggled into the skimpy outfit left for her. She was not comfortable with so much exposed skin but she had learned long ago to ignore any and all discomforts. She sat down at the vanity to rearrange her damp hair when she sensed the door to the room open behind her. It wasn't Torkin; he would have announced himself, so she assumed it was the mysterious high rolling client. Lyyr ignored the sensation of being watched pretending to be occupied with her hair. In truth she was looking past her reflection in the mirror hoping to catch a glimpse of the intruder. He seemed to be aware of the mirror's scope and did his best to stay out of it. Then out of her peripheral vision she caught a flicker of movement in the mirror along with a quick glance of a red cheek and black hair. She knew immediately who it was she was expected to entertain.

Delcep Norith; she should have known it would be him from the beginning. The Zeltron had all but screamed his desire to sleep with her. Lyyr was actually relieved to discover that the mysterious high roller was Norith. At least with the aid of the Zeltron's naturally secreted pheromones and emotionally charged telepathy Norith could deceive Lyyr so that she enjoyed the experience. Oh it was still rape, and afterwards she would feel violated and suffer the emotional backlash. But at least for a moment, under the influence of a pheromone induced haze, Lyyr could pretend that what happened did not arise out of a lust for power and domination but out of mutual attraction. It was all an illusion, of course, and one that did more harm in the long run. Yet, in the meantime she was content to allow Delcep to manipulate her.

"Nal Huttta," he murmured using another one of his pet names for her and officially announcing his presence, "chespo kutata kreesta krenko, nyakoska." (Glorious jewel, I've been looking forward to this for a long time)

"Really," she said catching his reflection in the mirror and raising an eyebrow at him. "How much did you have to pay off Shol for the privilege?" She continued trying for some playful banter.

She needed to make the effort of being seductive and alluring; not for Delcep's benefit but for Shol's. As every one of his 'girls' knew Shol would be watching their performances. Shol liked to watch. Truthfully Lyyr was tired and just wanted to get the inevitable over with. Delcep would sense her mood the moment he touched her; after that Lyyr need only to become his puppet. As much as she hated dancing to another's pull of the strings she tolerated it better than being rendered unconscious and unaware of what was done to her.

"Two months worth of drinking money" was his answer, "and I intended to get my money's worth."

Lyyr had been right in thinking she was in for a very, very long day.

After the storm had died down Qui-Gon went with Anakin back to Watto's shop. The Toydarian had bought Qui-Gon's story about recently acquiring a podracer hook line and sinker. From that point on it had been disturbingly easy to deceive Watto into agreeing to allow Anakin to pilot the pod. Gambling was truly the flighty blue alien's weakness. Turing his dealing with the Toydarian into a bet was like using a mind trick on him. Watto feel into his plans perfectly.

Qui-Gon may have been tempted to question the wisdom of this plan if convincing Watto had proven to be difficult. It was bad enough that the Queens handmaiden questioned every move made by the Jedi Knight. Padmé was making things more complicated than they needed to be.

Back at the Skywalker's home Qui-Gon's thoughts were drawn back to the terse conversation with the girl Lyyr. He found himself wondering where the girl had gone and what it was about her that made him feel as if he already knew her. He decided to question Shmi about the girl at the first chance he got to speak with the woman privately. As if the thought summoned her; Shmi joined him on the porch to oversee Anakin working on the engines of his podracer with Padmé and Jar Jar's help.

"Do you know where Lyyr is?" He asked, making the effort to sound casual. He did not want the woman to sense his interest in her daughter.

"Gardulla owns Lyyr, but the Hutt also loans Lyyr out to other slave owners. That's how Gardulla curries favor with the local businessmen. Watto, for example, has an agreement with Gardulla for the privilege to use Lyyr as a mechanic and that is why she still lives with us. She is most likely off working for another one of her 'owners'."

Qui-Gon did not bother to respond to Shmi's answer. He could sense that she did not approve of how the girl was passed about like some prized possession. It seemed that although Shmi could accept the fact that she was a slave, she could not resign herself to how she and her children were treated. He decided not to pursue the matter with Shmi anymore. Instead he turned his attention to Anakin.

"You should be proud of your son; he gives without any thought of reward."