Chapter Two (Patreon)

Being an infant sucked. Not getting to choose her own name kinda sucked, but being born into a body she was comfortable with made up for it. Not being taken seriously seriously sucked. Same for not being able to speak coherently, or read, or do much of anything else other than try (and fail) to crawl or stand.

Quest: First Word

Speak your first word! It can be in Galactic Basic, Ryl, or Togorian!

Quest: First Moves

Learn to crawl! Move at least ten feet by crawling.

Quest: First Steps

Learn to walk! Take at least six steps without falling over.

Quest: First Letters (Galactic Basic)

Learn to read and write the aurebesh alphabet

At least she had something to try and do. Though learning the alphabet would have to wait until she could at least reach the books.

By the end of her first month, Ali’ya was grateful for the species she chose. Much like domestic cats, Togorians were able to move on all fours from a young age. Ali’ya managed it after three weeks, when she crawled across the floor. She was trying to reach one of the books (of which there were precious few) but instead bumped her knee on the uneven floor as she was crawling.

Baby instincts took over, and Ali’ya cried. Her parents weren’t home, though Ali’ya wasn’t sure why. One of the older Togorians picked her up. Her voice was calming, and against her will Ali’ya found herself going to sleep, even as the Quest Completed icon started blinking.

After the Crying Incident (something that Ali’ya desperately tried to pretend didn’t happen--why am I so ashamed, crying is fine, damned infant hormones) Ali’ya began crawling regularly. The quest hadn’t earned her much in the way of experience points--fifty, out of a thousand needed to reach second level--but it was something. It was progress, and Ali’ya would take what she could get.

It didn’t take long for Ali’ya to manage to stand. The tricky bit was staying up long enough to grab a book, and then not losing her grip when she fell. But even as a baby Ali’ya had more energy than when she’d had to deal with constant migraines as a human. So she tried. And tried. And tried. And--there it is!

Damn. It was full of words. Maybe Great-Grandma could help her read? Ali’ya broke out the sole weapon in her arsenal. She cried.

“There there,” Great-Grandma cooed. “---- -----?”

“Ga’ma,” Ali’ya managed. “Alp!”

“Help?” Great-Grandma asked. “Did you--”

“Help!” Ali’ya agreed, pointing at the book.

“Help you ---- --- book?” Great-Grandma pointed at the book. The other words was probably read.

“Re ta book!” Ali’ya agreed.

“------------- that’s a --------- book -------------------” Great-Grandma said. Ali’ya frowned. There were too many words she didn’t know there.

“Book,” Ali’ya said, pointing a the book. “Me,” she said, pointing at herself. “You.”

Her great-grandmother rolled her eyes, but played along. “Book. You. Floor. Crib. Table . . .”

Time was a strange thing as an infant. Days took forever, but before she noticed a year had passed. The only reason Ali’ya was aware of it was the small celebration her family had. It wasn’t much--a piece of fresh fruit with a sparkler--but it showed they cared, and Ali’ya found her heart trying to open wide enough to embrace them all. “Luf,” Ali’ya garbled, embracing her mama and papa. “Luf you.”

After her first year, strange things happened. The first time, it was a book she wanted to try and read flying from the bookshelf. Ali’ya would have smacked herself, if not for her soft infant head. Honestly, why hadn’t she thought of using the Force before?

Closing her eyes, Ali’ya tried to mediate. Help me, she thought. Guide me. I need to learn to read. Guide me to the aurebesh alphabet book.

Unsurprisingly, the Force didn’t work like that. Fortunately, her great-grandma began her lessons early after Ali’ya begged her to read another book for the hundred and seventeenth time.

“Aurek,” Great-Grandma said, drawing the letter on a rare piece of flimsi.

“Aurek,” Ali’ya repeated. She tried to copy the letter, but her grip on the pen wasn’t perfect. It slipped out of her hand.

“Like this,” Great-Grandma corrected, and Ali’ya tried the letter again. “Not quite.” Ali’ya tried again. And again. And again.

Skill (Handwriting) Improved! Level: Beginner 1.

Okay, Ali’ya thought. More carefully this time, she drew the aurek. It wasn’t perfect, but it was legible.

“Good!” Great-Grandma said. “Now. Besh. It makes a buh-sound.”

“Besh,” Ali’ya repeated. “Buh. Like boy?”

“Like boy! Very good!” Great-Grandma agreed. “Now write.”

Being only one and born to the underworld (of which ecumenopolis Ali’ya wasn’t quite sure) her parents and family were very, very protective of her. As much as they could afford to be, at least. Which meant that until she could speak clearly (and understand their warnings) Ali’ya wasn’t allowed out of the apartment. Not that she minded too much. Sure it was boring sometimes, but the faster she did the boring things the sooner she could do fun things! Learning to read and write might not be fun, but she was really looking forward to learning what kind of metallurgy and mechanics such a technologically advanced galaxy had. Beskar forging was probably a secret, but maybe she could learn about using phrik? It had similar properties, if she remembered correctly. Either way it would be fascinating to learn, she just had to power through.

The interface made it more fun too. Whoever was running the system must have wanted her done with the boring parts as fast as she did. After all, watching an adult in a toddler’s body relearn to walk and write couldn’t be that exciting. Maybe the first few times, but after a year? Two years? Forget about it.

Quest: Legible Handwriting. Level up your handwriting to Novice: 1.

Quest: Beginning to Read. Read your first book.

Quest: Reading for Dummies: Read your first non-picture book.

Quest: Forceful Steps: Levitate something for one minute.

Quest: Push/Pull: Level up telekinesis to Novice: 1.

Quest: Fluent: Reach basic fluency in Galactic Basic.

Quest: Mother Tongue: Reach basic fluency in Togorian.

Quest: Language of the Underworld: Reach basic fluency in Huttese.

Handwriting and telekinesis were simple enough. Even practicing her letters by writing on the floor leveled up handwriting, though that stopped working after she reached the level of Apprentice: 1. Similarly, she just had to practice levitating an object. Which was harder than she thought, even with her level of Force potential. But then, that’s all it was. Potential. And the Force was something far greater than the ability to lift objects, or use lightning, or see into the future. The Force was Everything. It was the Overdiety, the neutral power that created existence and thrived off of its continuation.

Maybe she’d been going about things the wrong way. She didn’t need to practice her telekinesis--or rather, didn’t need to only practice that. She needed to connect to the Force. That meant meditation. Something that had been difficult, even before the addition of childhood nervous energy.

Ali’ya breathed in. She breathed out. She reached in, she reached out. She closed her eyes, and emptied her mind. She waited. And waited. For there was nothing. Yet out of nothing comes everything, she thought. For what can contain everything if not the vastness of nothingness? And there it was, sparkling. Light and dark and purple and red and black and green and blue and every hue yet discovered and several that could not be seen by mortal eyes and others yet to be invented and--

It.

Was.

Everywhere.

The air, the walls, the floor, the people, the particles, the ceiling, the climb up and down and around and east, west, north, south, everywhere was everything and everything was everywhere and

Ali’ya opened her eyes, gasping for breath. The Force is even more than I realized, she thought. It is in every living thing and everything in between. Everything that is, was, or will ever be.

I could lose myself in it, she realized. I could lose myself and never come back. I’ll need to be more careful in the future. Maybe just start with myself next time.

For there would be a next time, though not for a while. For now, Ali’ya needed to nap. Becoming aware of the vastness of the universe was a tiring exercise.

“What’s that you’re speaking?” At two, Ali’ya was far more fluent than she ought to be. It was obvious her family noticed but Ali’ya refused to delay herself at all. That path only led to frustration.

“Togorian,” her great-grandmother answered. “The tongue of our people.”

“Can I learn?”

Great-grandmother stared at her. She shrugged. “Why not. Normally I do not teach to those before five, but then you learned Basic swiftly as well.”

“I like learning,” Ali’ya said.

“So you do,” Great-grandma agreed. “Had we the credits for it, I’d send you to school. But we don’t, so I’ll teach you what I can.”

*

Money. The root of all evil, and of all problems. It could create twice as many as it solved, yet in the current system of the galaxy the need for money was inescapable. At three, Ali’ya was finally allowed out of the house, and was determined to make some credits. If there was one thing she knew how to do--regardless of what her skill chart said--it was write. In a galaxy of trillions, even a relatively smalltime writer could become wealthy. Wealthy enough to help her family, Ali’ya hoped. Even if Great-grandma was the only one she really knew, since everyone else had to work.

First though, she needed to scope out her competition. The Library of Coruscant had only four branches beneath the 3000 level, and Ali’ya was lucky enough to live only a mile away from one. It took time--damn her tiny legs--but she got there eventually, even if she was completely out of breath.

“Hi!” she greeted the person at the desk. It was a real person, thankfully, not a droid. “Can I see the fiction section?”

“Over there,” the person--a bored twi’lek--said, gesturing towards a group of shelves. “Can’t check out anything unless you have a card, but you can read whatever you want in here.”

“Thank you!” Ali’ya purred, and hurried off to the section.

Truly, Ali’ya thought. The state of fiction in this galaxy is abysmal. The Jedi’s Dilema. The Hutt and the Frog. All of this is historical fiction! Even the stuff that isn’t is poorly edited, mistranslated, and borderline racist! Ali’ya huffed. Where’s the escapism? Much of this galaxy sucks as much as politics back home did, so why are people writing about it? Where’s the story of a kid who defeats things against all odds, of escape slaves leading rebellions, of magic and spells?

Well, Ali’ya sighed. At least I don’t have much competition.