Reading Time: 117 Minutes
Title: To Hold Infinity
Author: Belvella
Fandom: Star Wars, The Mandalorian
Genre: Action Adventure, Dimension Travel, Pre-Relationship, Time Travel
Relationship(s): Din Djarin/Jaster Mereel, Boba Fett/Fennec Shand, Paz Vizsla/OFC
Content Rating: R
Warnings: Major Character Death, Slavery, Torture, Violence-Graphic, Violence-Against Children/Child Abuse, Discussion of rape, murder
Word Count: 108,363
Summary: In a galaxy far far away. All hope was abandoned with the fall to the Darkside of Rey Skywalker and the rise of the First Order. With the defeat of the rebellion and the execution of Mon Mothma by Kylo Ren all hope seemed lost… A Witch’s desperate attempt at a forbidden spell. A heartbroken fathers despair and conviction to do what ever it takes to avenged his loved ones. An interruption at a critical moment gives a dying Force a chance to correct some wrongs and save the galaxy.
Artist: Tpena19
Chapter 9
Year 943 ARR/ 57 BBY
Jaster gently bounces his crying son on his chest as he paces around his apartment. It has been nearly a year since he has adopted the orphan son of one of his childhood friends. Jango has adapted well, but every now and then he still suffers from night terrors. The child psychologist that Jaster has taken Jango to, to help him deal with the loss of his birth family and his new circumstance as Jaster’s son, had told Jaster that night terrors were to be expected. It will take years to help Jango overcome the trauma that he had suffered. But they had also told him that young children are far more adaptable and will bounce back as long as they get the care, love and support needed to do so.
That is one of the things mandalorians are good at. A great many of their number comes to them as traumatised beings. They have learned how to assist both adults and children dealing with loss, abuse and more often than not being freed from slavery. Jaster gently pats Jango on the back while he starts humming a lullaby. What most outsiders seem to forget is that Mandalorians are not a race or even a planet but a creed. That is one of the things that frustrate him the most about both the New Mandalorians and Death Watch. They are both so single-mindedly human centric. Completely forgetting that the founding race of the mandalorian nation was not human themselves but Taung.
Jango sniffles as his crying tapers off burrowing his face deeper into Jaster’s shoulder. Rubbing his back the tired Mand’alor continues his humming hoping to soothe his child back to sleep. It was deep into the night cycle in Keldabe. He had been busy with reports when Jango’s terrified screams had drawn him from his study to the karyai where they sleep most nights.
It takes another ten minutes of humming and slowly walking around the room before Jango’s crying turns into soft sniffles. “Hi ner verd’ika,” Jaster asks gently when even the last of the sniffles has tapered off. “Do you want some hot Hoth chocolate?” He waits patiently while the small boy considers. When Jango nods he carries him over to the kitchen area and sits him down on the counter. Jango shuffles a little bit closer to the edge so that he can dangle his feet off the counter.
Quickly heating up enough tauntaun milk Jaster stirs in the blend of chocolate and spices that he has learned Jango likes the best. Pouring the mixture into two cups he hands one over to Jango. He waits until the boy has had several small sips before asking, “Do you want to tell me what you dreamed about?” He keeps his expression open and his tone even. Clearly indicating that he will accept whatever answer Jango gives.
The dark haired boy scrunches up his nose thinking. After a moment he sighs. “I dreamt of the bad me.” He finally answers. Jaster frowns, “The bad you?” he gently prompts. The small boy is pale, far paler than his dark complexion should be. A tear slides down his cheek. “You died, and then all the Haat’ade died and I became’ dar’manda.” a small sob escapes and the tiny hands holding the mug of hot chocolate trembles. “There were so many echoes of me and they killed everyone, even the ade.” another sob escapes.
Jaster takes the cup from Jango and places it on the counter before sweeping his son back into his arms. “Udesii, udesii ner ad.” He soothes, “It is just a dream.” Jango hiccups through his tears, “Promise?” he asks in a trembling voice. “Haat, ijaa, haa’it.” Jaster swears. He shifts Jango to his right hip and with his now free left hand he picks up both mugs. Walking slowly over to the karyai he considers a few different aspects of what might be causing this fear. Jaster knows that the small size of their aliit is part of what troubles Jango.
Jaster has reached out to all the Fetts he could contact and with the exception of one all had plainly stated that they wanted no contact with anyone from Cassus aliit. The only positive response had come via the secure comm unit he uses to contact his hunter. It was a message from Boba Fett, the Guild leader on Tatooine. The message was short and to the point. Boba had acknowledged Jaster as Jango’s buir. He had also stated that if Jango ever wants to contact him he is more than welcome to do so. But it was heavily implied that doing so now would not be a good idea. No reason was given but when Jaster had spent a quiet moment in contemplation the Drums of the Manda had echoed the sentiment.
But now his son needed more assurance of his safety if anything were to happen to Jaster. The Drums take on an encouraging tone. Settling into the karyai, Jaster tucks Jango next to him. Handing over his chocolate he pulls one of the sleeping blankets over both their laps to ward off the chill in the air. “Do you want to know a secret?” He asks Jango. The little boy’s eyes lit up and he nods his head. “Like with the drums?” he asks. Jaster nods, “’Lek.” he confirms.
“So you have seen the dagger that I carry right?” Jaster asks. Jango nods, “Well that is to show that I am courting someone.” Jaster watches as Jango frowns thinking, “I have told him all about you.” Jaster wraps his arm around Jango’s shoulder pulling him tighter into his side. “I have told him all about how mandokar you are. And if anything were to ever happen to me he has promised to come get you and protect and raise you.”
Jango takes a drink from his mug, clearly thinking, “Why have I not ever met him?” he demands. Considering his answer carefully Jaster gently pats his son’s hair in a soothing motion. “He works clear across the other side of the galaxy and both he and I are still getting to know each other. When the time is right he will join us here at the Yaim.” Finishing the last of his chocolate Jango leans into his father’s side. “The Drums told you to wait.” He says it like a fact. Jaster swallows at the implication of that statement. “Yes they did.” He confirms, then “Does the drums tell you things often?” he asks.
He can feel his son’s form relaxing into his side. “Sometimes, yeah. Most of the time they just beat to let me know I am not alone.” the sleepy voice comes. They sit there for several moments Jaster gently patting his son’s hair to soothe him back to sleep. He knows that Jango could hear the drums from the very moment he has spoken the gai bal manda, but somehow it has never occurred to him that the Manda would offer the same guidance that they do him. When he is certain that Jango has fallen back asleep he carefully rearranges them so that the boy is laying more comfortably and is covered by another thicker blanket.
Thinking about Din he sighs a bit sadly. He had sent a message detailing what had happened on Concord Dawn and his adoption of Jango the day after it had happened. At first he had not worried about not receiving a reply quickly. And then the following months had been far too hectic with them hunting Kyr’tsad all over Concord Dawn.
It had taken them four months to drive the terrorists off the planet. It was only when he had returned to Keldabe and had received Boba Fett’s message that he had realised that he had not received a response from his hunter. It had been another two months before he got a reply to his message. It came in the form of the arms dealer Dex Jettsters who had delivered several crates of high grade weapons to the Haat’ade as a gift from the Mudhorn. In private he had handed Jaster a hand written letter on real paper and a children’s story book containing mandalorian stories. The book had the most beautiful hand illustrated drawings. Jango was enraptured by the book. Jaster would admit that he too was. Something like that was worth a fortune as real paper and hand illustration are extremely rare.
The letter had sooth the hurt that was growing in his chest. Din had explained that he was on a hunt that had taken him deep into Wild space so he had not received Jaster’s message until he had returned to Nevarro. In the letter he had stated that he knew that Jaster would be a great parent and that he could not wait to meet Jango. Shortly after receiving the gift Din had actually called Jaster and they had spoken a great deal. Including all that had happened on Concord Dawn. When Jaster had informed Din that they had shot down Tor Vizsla ship and that they are certain he was killed in the explosion, the hunter had gone quiet and asked Jaster if he was certain that Tor was dead. The way he had phrased the question had given pause to Jaster’s certainty.
After that call Jaster had tasked Walon Vau with the task of confirming that Tor was indeed dead. The communication between Jaster and Din had returned to the normal message exchanges. And still the Drums kept telling him to wait, to be patient that it is not the time to ask Din to join him on Manda’yaim. Din’s last message had been short, just a warning that he is going on a hunt and will not be able to communicate for a while.
Sitting there in the karyai listening to his son sleep reminded Jaster of how tired he himself is. Just as he gathers enough energy together to head to his room to change out of his kute into sleeping clothes, the bell at his door rings. Cursing under his breath he strides across the room, glancing back to make certain that the bell has not awoken his son. He opens the door to glare at Walon, Tani and Mij who are standing at the other side. “There better be a damned good reason for you being at my door this time at night.” He snaps.
The striile at Walon’s side slinks pass Jaster into the room heading straight for Jango. Sighing he takes a step back and waves them into the room. “Quietly please. I have just managed to get Jango back to sleep.” He states softly.
“Night terror?” Mij asks, and Jaster merely nods. Looking over at the grim expressions on both Tani and Walon’s faces he waves for them to follow and heads to his office. He pauses halfway there when he realises that Mij is not following but instead settled into the karyai near Jango. He looks over at Tani and she just shakes her head. Gritting his teeth he continues on to his office.
Entering it first he makes his way over to his desk. The dark haired spy master enters last, closes and locks the door before activating the security protocols. Jaster settles into his chair and waves at the two chairs across from his desk. “Okay what is this about?” he demands.
Walon and Tani share a long look before sitting down. “So while we have been steadily working through the data that we had pulled from the Kyr’tsad bases on Concord Dawn, we have been matching it to the information that Captain Calypso had provided you last year.” Walon begins, “In fact we were able to trace back several large weapons purchases between the Hutt’s and Tor Vizsla to funding that was provided through the Banking Clan.”
Jaster leans back in his chair. “This is all very important, but I fail to see why this could not wait for morning.” He states crossly. Tani kicks Walon’s ankle, the beskar caps on her boots ringing where they hit his shin guards. “Stop tiptoeing around the subject and just tell him!” She snaps.
The golden eye spy master glares at her before turning back to his leader. “So after our encounter last year I had instructed some of my most trusted verd to monitor Calypso’s movements.” Jaster raises an eyebrow in surprise and just a bit of disapproval. Walon just stares back. “She is Nym’s daughter and second in command of the Lok Revenants.” He crosses his arms a bit defensively across his chest. “She is also riduur to a Vizsla.”
Sighing Jaster rubs his forehead. The faint headache of earlier growing stronger with every word Walon utters. “And oath vod to my ven’riduur.” He snaps. Walon merely shrugs, “That is just another reason to keep an eye on her.” He looks at his friend. “Either way you cut it she is of importance to several key figures in our affairs.” Jaster sighs in defeat, he has to acknowledge that Walon is correct.
“So, we have been tracking her, then about five days ago she just disappeared. Not a trace of her or the Red shadow. Nym locks down Lok. Both Boba Fett and Nava Karga orders all of their guild members not out on jobs to return to base.” Here Walon pauses, letting the information settle before continuing, “Then three days ago we get word from Kih’Keldabe. Seven days ago there was a huge uproar at the Jetii’Yaim and then they locked down completely. Then the day after that Paz Vizsla was spotted on Coruscanta with several Ja’hai’ade, it was clear to all that they were on a hunt and out for blood.”
Jaster would admit that Walon is painting a worrying picture. “And how has all of this led to you knocking at three in the morning at my door?” He asks, tiredness making his tone far sharper than he would normally allow himself to take with his friends.
“Because thirty minutes ago we picked up the location of the Red Shadow.” The dark haired man replies. “They are stationary just beyond the edge of our solar system. And more importantly they are in live communication with someone on Concordia.” He looks up at his friend. “We are just about to break the encryption on the call.”
Swearing Jaster pushes to his feet and stalks over to the door of his office, disengaging the security he rips the door open. He heads for the armour stand where he had placed his armour mere hours earlier. Pulling on the pieces he snaps out orders. “Mij, I need you to stay here and guard Jango.” The doctor just nods in response. Settling his helmet Jaster turns to the other two. “Tani call in Kal and my uncle. Tell them to meet us in the war room.” With that he spins around and heads out of the apartment. He could not allow an aruetii to interfere in Mandalorian matters no matter how well connected they are. He can hear Walon and Tani following him.
“Should I call in Montross?” Tani asks. It is on the tip of Jaster’s tongue to confirm when the harsh discordant note of the Drums makes his steps falter. He shakes his head no, “No the less people who are involved in this the better.” He states, just as he enters the war room.
He recognises the young warrior at the communications array as the same one that has been trailing behind Walon for several weeks now. “What have we got?” He demands as he walks up to the holo emitter. She jumps to attention. Her neon green and pink armour paint a vibrant focal point in the otherwise drab grey coloured room.
“Alor,” She swallows. “We have just been granted access to the communication stream. Unfortunately it is for viewing permission only.” The statement causes everyone to pause. “What do you mean we have been granted access?” Jaster asks into the quiet. “Unit Red has given Unit Atin permission to view the communication stream.” Atin answers as he rolls out behind the table containing the holo emitter.
Jaster stares at the droid. “Did… Unit Red gave a reason?” He asks. Atin merely beeps a negative and with a prod to the emitter with one of his data arms the emitter comes to life. Jaster frowns, it is clear that the holo capture is placed to capture the whole space it is located in. What he sees though is what makes him freeze.
There sitting on what could only be described as a throne is Calypso. She is dressed in her normal black and red. To her right is Paz Vizsla, The hulking man’s heavy infantry, blue armour unmistakable. It is the being to her left that is making Jaster pause. For there in their traditional brown robes is a Jetii. The being appears to be a human male with dark hair, his lightsaber clearly visible on his belt. Jaster frowns, the man looks familiar, Jaster knows he has seen the man before but he can not place him.
Kneeling in front of the three of them next to a small table with his back to the holo capture is a mandalorian. From his armour colours Jaster would say he is Kyr’tsad. Calypso’s words confirm his suspicion mere seconds later. “Strip him of his armour, Death Watch does not have any honour.” A large besalisk also dressed in shades of red steps forward into the eye of the holo capturer. He rips the kneeling warrior’s helmet off. Two more pirates step in to help him strip their prisoner, placing his armour on the table next to him. When the man is down to his kute, he is forced back to his knees.
His hands are bound behind his back. Jaster can see blood seeping through the man’s kute. It is clear that this man had been in a fight, and judging from his current circumstances it is one that he has lost badly.
“Can we tell who they are broadcasting this to?” Jaster asks. “No alor. We have tried but the signal is being scrambled on the receiving end. All that we can determine is that they are on Concordia.” The young splicer answers. Jaster nods to show he understands. Calypso rising from her chair draws his attention back to what is happening.
Jaster marvels at how different the pirate captain appears from when he last saw her on Nassua. There she had been soft and alluring. Here and now there was no trace of that softness. She picks up a solid blade knife and a vial of liquid. The liquid in the vial glows softly with a sickly greenish glow. Reaching the kneeling man she uses the knife to cut the top part of his kute exposing his back. More bruises are clearly visible.
She stands for a moment merely watching the kneeling man, before using the blade to make a very shallow cut across his shoulders. Handing the dagger over the besalisk she pulls a stopper from the vial and lets a single droplet fall on the prisoner’s back and the lightly bleeding cut. Its effect is instantly visible as the man throws his head back and screams in agony.
Swallowing, his throat suddenly dry, Jaster watches with the rest of the room as the man falls over onto his side screaming the entire time. It takes about ten minutes for the screaming to stop. “Get him back up,” the pirate captain calmly states as she moves back to her chair and sits down again. Dangling the bottle of liquid lazily from her fingers. The still nameless prisoner is trembling when he is placed back into the same position as before. “I have a proposition for you,” Calypso’s voice is calm, she almost sounds bored. The kneeling mandalorian spits in her direction. She merely smirks at him. “Kyr’tsad will not deal with a whore like you.” He snarls.
For a moment no one moves and then Calypso throws her head back and laughs. “Is whore the best you can come up with?” She shakes her head. “Tor must be really scraping the bottom of the intelligence barrel, to get the likes of you.” Settling back into her chair, she crosses her ankles. “Now as I was saying, I have a proposition. Or more like two options.” She lazily waves her empty hand. “Now, you are not leaving this room alive, but I will give you the option of how you die.”
A small movement at her right side draws Jaster’s eyes to the Jetii. The man had not moved a muscle the entire time the prisoner was screaming. Now he has moved, folding his hands into his sleeves, looking as tranquil as if he is watching a nature scene. Jaster waits for the man to say something but he remains quiet.
“Option one,” Calypso continues, holding up one hand, “You tell me the exact location of the Death Watch training base on Concordia. If you do, I will grant you a swift and painless death and personally ensure that your beskar’gam and your body is returned to your aliit. Unspoiled.” The mando’a words roll off the pirate’s tongue as if she is a native speaker.
“Or,” She holds up her other hand and the bottle, “option two. You don’t tell me anything and you spend the next several hours dying as slowly and as painfully as possible. And then after, I will melt down your armour and sell it to the first Hutt I cross for a bottle of spotchka.” Everyone in the room with Jaster involuntarily takes a step back. The threat is so heinous as to cut every single mandalorian to their core.
The kneeling man shivers clearly unsettled by the threat, before turning his head to look at the mandalorian standing to Calypso’s right. “You would go against your Mand’alor?” he spat, “For this pirate whore?” his voice hoarse from the screaming. Paz Vizsla visibly scoffs, “Tor is no Mand’alor. He is a crazed animal that needs to be put down.” The answer shakes the prisoner as much as the options Calypso has offered.
It is clear for all watching that he is desperate as he turns to the Jetii on Calypso’s left. “The Jetii will not allow you to do this. Everyone knows that they do not allow torture and murder.” His voice has taken on a pleading note. The dark haired Jetii steps forward. “I will not interfere in Mistress Calypso’s orders. In fact I will make sure that what she does here gets spread far and wide.” His tone is bone chilling even. “Why, why?” the prisoner demands.
“So that the maxim ‘If you want the Padawan, make sure that the Master is dead.’ gets branded into every being’s mind in this whole galaxy.” He states. Behind Jaster, Walon Vau starts cursing. Jaster clenches his teeth. This, this complicates matters a whole fucking lot. What the hell is Tor thinking going after a jetti’ad. The fight drains out of the bound man, he slumps forward. “You swear you will return my armour to my aliit?” He asks, the fight clearly lost. “Haat, ijaa, haa’it.” Vizsla answers and Calypso echoes it.
The man mumbles out a set of co-ordinates, Jaster watches as the young warrior scribbles down the location. On the screen Calypso turns to look at the Jetti. “He speaks the truth,” he replies.
“How many entrances are there to the base and which are the most heavily guarded and which ones are the least guarded?” Calypso asks the next question. After several minutes of explaining the base’s entrances the man falls quiet again. Looking over at the jetti she waits for his nod confirming the truth. “Describe the base layout and the security system.” She demands. It takes about ten minutes for the prisoner to explain the base layout. To describe where the children are being kept and lay out the guard schedule.
With a last check-in with the jetti, Calypso rises to her feet and moves over to the table. Placing down the bottle she picks up a hypo-injector and drifts over to the prisoner and jabs him in the neck in a lightning fast move. Between one breath and the next the man is dead. She straightens and takes a deep breath. “Leave us.” She commands, and Jaster can see movement at the edges of the holo-capture. It takes about five minutes before he presumes the room is empty of all but Calypso and her two companions.
She takes a few steps backwards and collapses down in her seat, Vizsla gently rests a hand on her shoulder. “You got all of that Din?” she asks, her voice all of a sudden laced with fatigue.
“Yes, it is in fact not far from where I currently am.” Jaster startles at the sound of his hunter’s voice. There is no image at all so he must be voice only. “If I ask, will you wait for back-up?” She asks in a tone that clearly states she already knows the answer. Din snorts “If either one of you three sets a boot on Concordia it will cause a massive political blow-up.” The Jetii snorts, clearly in agreement.
“You cannot take on a whole Death Watch base on your own Din.” Calypso tries again. “I am not alone, I have Chip with me. Besides I am not fighting everyone in the base, I am merely going to extract the stolen children.” The reply comes. The pirate captain sighs and shakes her head at the answer.
“Tholme how is Averross?” The hunter asks. They can hear movement in the background of Din’s call. “Your sister sedated him.” Came the dry reply from the jetti that apparently is called Tholme. Din merely sighs a long suffering sigh. “Cal.”
“What! It is an effective method of dealing with assholes who do not listen to medical advice.” the pirate says looking offended. “You would know.” Vizsla dryly states. “Good hunting Djarin. We will await you at the rendezvous spot.”
“Oya!” Din replies before he cuts the connection.
For a moment Jaster thinks that this is the end before Calypso sits up straight, “Well Mereel. Are you going to let him storm Death Watch and rescue several kids all on his own or are you going to get off your ass and do something about Tor?” On screen Vizsla uses the palm of his hand to press his helmet into his forehead, “For fuck’s sake woman.” he groans. The jetti starts coughing suspiciously.
“Can we communicate now?” Jaster asks Atin. The droid beeps an affirmation. “Captain Calypso.” He says as he steps forward into their room’s holo-capture. “Vizsla, Jetii.” He greets. “We will be boots up in,” he looks over to where Tani is typing rapidly on a data pad. She holds up three fingers. “Three hours.” Calypso stares at him like she can see into his very soul even across the expanse of space that separates them. “Okay yeah, that should give him enough time to infiltrate the base.” She says.
“Do you have any idea on how many children are in the camp?” Jaster asks. It is the Jetii that answers, “We know of twenty-two confirmed children but recently found information indicates that the number can be as high as a hundred.” The jetti pushes a hand through his hair. “The twenty-two confirmed, were all stolen from republic worlds, but chatter is that they have also been buying child slaves.”
Jaster nearly snarls at that answer. “Tor Vizsla is dar’manda.” He states. He shares a look with Kal before turning back to the holo transmitter. “If the plan is for the mudhorn to infiltrate the base then we will be the distraction to give him time and the transport for the children.” He states.
Calypso stares at him for a long minute. “Good. Well then happy hunting Mand’alor Mereel.” She greets before cutting the connection.
“So that just happened,” Jareal Mereel states. Jaster turns to look at his uncle. “This is either going to be a complete clusterfuck…” He trails off. “Or a decisive blow to Kyr’tsad.” His uncle completes the sentence.
“This is also proof that Tor Vizsla is not as dead as Pre has stated.” Walon adds in as he steps up next to Jaster. “Pre Vizsla has always doted on his first born ad.” Jareal states. Jaster nods agreement. “I remember when we were at University together, how Tor bragged about his buir becoming the Aliit’Alor after Naz retired.” Jaster sighs. He turns to look at the others in the room with him. “This stays quiet. We will take only the Headhunters and even they will not be briefed on our mission until just before landing on Concordia.” He instructs.
Tani frowns. “You are not even going to inform Montross?” she asks. Jaster shakes his head no. Walon looks at Jaster, “You think we have a spy in our midst.” He states it as a fact. Removing his helmet Jaster runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, there are several things that don’t add up. We crossed too many empty bases at the beginning of our time on Concord Dawn.”
Year 943 ARR/ 57 BBY
Arla Fett curls up tighter in the corner of her cell as she hears the lock to the door of her cell rattles. She brings a hand up to shield her eyes from the bright light that will stream into the dimly lit room. She wonders what is happening, because this is a deviation from the routine. She is not sure how long it has been since that fateful day when Kyr’tsad attacked their yaim and killed her aliit and took her prisoner. But judging from her hair growth it has been more than six months. Her mother used to cut her hair twice a year to keep it as short as she likes it.
The door opens and harsh white light streams in momentarily blinding her. She hears something being tossed into the cell and the pained cry tells her it is another being. She waits a few moments after she hears the door being pulled shut and locked before she slowly lowers her hands and looks over to the heap of being laying on the floor in the centre of the space. Slowly uncurling, Arla carefully takes in her new cell mate. It appears to be a human girl. She is dressed in a tan and white tunic and trousers.
Around both her throat and wrist are a thick slave collar and cuffs. The girl’s black hair is cut short and with a single long thin braid with yellow beads behind her right ear. She groans as she pushes herself into a sitting position. “Just wait until my master and uncle gets here. They will kick all your asses.” She mutters to the locked door as she wipes away a tear.
Arla shifts and the girl spins around to look at her. “Oh, uhm, hi.” She says in basic. She tries to stand only to collapse with a soft cry. Arla winces and moves to help the girl. “Ulyc.” She whispers. “Gar shupur’yc.” She tells the girl. The dark haired girl frowns. “Oh your mandalorian.” She breathes. “Well of course you are, this is mandalorian space after all.” She mutters.
“Uhm, let’s see if I remember this right.” She states as she carefully pushes herself back into a sitting position. “Ner gai, Nim.” She points at herself.
Arla pulls a face. “Your accent is terrible.” She whispers. “Oh you speak basic.” Nim exclaims. “Wow okay that is wizard, because I only just started learning mandalorian, but my uncle says I am making good progress but I really don’t have anyone I can talk to at the temple, because the other masters don’t like it and then…”
“Do you always talk so much?” Arla demands. The girl falls quiet, “Sorry, I babble when I am scared.” The whispered reply comes. Instantly Arla feels bad. “Hi no sorry that was mean of me.” She swallows, “My name is Arla. Arla Fett.”
Nim cocks her head to the side. Arla would guess that she is ten, maybe eleven years old at the most. “Fett?” She asks. “Hi, maybe you know uncle Boba? He is also a Fett.” Arla shakes her head. They both fall silent for a moment. After a while Arla notices the young girl shivering.
“Here let me help you onto the blanket. If we sit tightly next to each other we can share body heat.” She says as she stands up and moves over to help Nim. “Thank you. They took my robes when they captured me.” Nim answers. Slowly helping the girl stand they make their way back to the corner where Arla has placed her blanket. They settle down next to each other and Arla wraps her arm around the girl pulling her tightly into her side.
“You said your master will come for you.” Arla says hesitantly, “Are you a slave?” she asks. Nim lifts her head from where she is trying to snuggle into Arla’s side in search of heat. “Oh no.” she shakes her head. “I am a Jedi padawan. My master is my teacher raising and training me to become a Jedi knight.” That makes Arla pause. She has heard stories about how dangerous Jetii are. Also how cold and emotionless they appear to be.
“If you are a jetii can you use your magic to escape?” The blond haired girl asks. The padawan shakes her head. She holds up one hand showing the cuff on her wrist. “They have me in force suppressor cuffs.” Her breath hitches, “I am completely cut off. I don’t even know if my master is still alive.” The last words are said so softly Arla needs to strain to hear them.
She tightens her arm around the younger girl in a hug. “You said your uncle would come for you?” She asks. She knows how it feels to know you lost your parents. Nim brightens at the question, nodding rapidly. “Yeah my uncle is a mandalorian.” She states. “He is one of the best bounty hunters ever.” She leans closer and lowers her voice like she is about to share a big secret. “He even manages to beat my grand-master in sparring matches.”
Arla looks down and raises an eyebrow. “Grand-Master?” she asks. Nim nods again. “Uhm so my grand-master is my master’s master.” Arla thinks it over for a minute. “So your grand-master is like your ba-buir.” She says. Nim frowns clearly trying to remember what the word means. “Ba-boor…” She trails off before, “Oh grandparent.” She exclaims. “Yes, exactly like that.”
That makes Arla frown. “But you said your uncle is a mandalorian?” she asks puzzled. Nim looks around before lowering her voice. “Promise to keep a secret?” She asks. Arla merely nods. “My uncle is my grand-master’s biological son, but he was raised by mandalorians. But the other Jedi cannot know or they will forbid us from seeing him.” Arla cannot even imagine being forbidden to see her family.
They sit in silence for a long while, when Nim finally asks, “How did you get here?” Arla flinched, “Sorry, sorry you don’t have to answer.” Nim hastily states. “No it is okay.” Arla soothes the young girl. “Death Watch attacked our farm. They killed my whole family and then captured me.” She says in a voice devoid of any emotion. “Do you know why they captured you?” Nim asks.
“Tor Vizsla says he is going to make me the perfect weapon.” Arla states. “They are training me to become an assassin.” a sob suddenly breaks free from her chest. “But it is so hard and when I don’t fight hard enough or are fast enough or when I try to fight back, then they beat me.” This time it is Nim who wiggles an arm around Arla’s back for a hug.
“It’s okay, it’s okay.” she whispers, “When my uncle comes he will free you as well.” She snuggles tighter into Arla’s side. “And if all of your family is gone, he will get you a new one.” She nods with the surety of a young one that has full faith in the adults in her life. “His tribe is always taking in foundlings and making sure that they have loving families.”
There is silence for a moment after that statement. “You really think he will come for you?” Arla asks, for the first time in ages feeling something like hope growing in her chest. “Of course he will.” Nim states. “And then he will free you as well.” She purses her lips, “He will kick all these death watch asses. You just see.” Arla chokes out a sound that is half laughter, half a sob. “I hope that you are right.”
Year 943 ARR/ 57 BBY
Din disconnects from the call. He turns to look at Chip, Calypso had insisted that he take the droid with them when they had split up after leaving Taris. He too travel to Concordia to investigate here and she and Paz to collect Tholme and follow-up on a lead to someone that had the location of the Death Watch training camp.
Now looking at the information that they had extracted from the Death Watch member Din starts to feel hope that they might just pull off this rescue. “Did you get all of that?” He asks the droid. Chip beeps out a string of sounds that has no meaning but his tone makes it quite clear what he thinks of that question. He pushes out of the pilot chair, super glad that he has left Grogu with Boba and Fennec. If anything goes wrong on this mission his son will be safe and cared for.
“Mudbone is really going to take on a whole base of Death Watch on his own?” The derision in the droid’s tone is absolutely cutting. “Calling me an insulting name is just rude, bucket of rusted bolts.” Din says in lieu of answering. Chip responds with a string of curse words that is blistering. Shaking his head he heads out of the cockpit towards his weapon locker. “You know Calypso is right, we don’t know where you could have gotten such deplorable language.” Reaching his locker he methodically starts to go through his weapons and arm himself. He takes far more weapons that he normally would. Because as much as he hates to admit it Chip is right, he is taking on a full Death Watch base all on his own.
Chip rolls up next to him. He has split his normal two wheel configuration to a four wheel that would do far better over rough terrain. “What is the plan?” He beeps. Finally strapping on the last of his throwing knives, Din turns and looks down towards Chip. “We go in stealthily and get you access to the base’s security.” He closes his locker and starts towards the hanger of the ship where a speeder is parked. “Then you lock down the base and monitor me while I clear a path towards the children.”
Chip beeps as he pulls up next to the speeder and waits for Din to lift him up and strap him to the seat at the back of the speeder. “This plan is very light on details.” Chip grouses. Din merely huffs as he gets on the speeder and starts it up. Using the controls on his vambrace he opens the back hatch and lowers the ramp. He drives out of the ship slowly. Once he is outside he closes up the ship and arms the defences. He takes a moment to input the co-ordinates into his speeder before speeding off in the direction of the hidden base.
Year 943 ARR/ 57 BBY
Jaster watches as the Headhunters company comes to attention in the hold of the ship they were currently travelling on to Concordia. Fifty of the best super commandos in the True Mandalorians ranks. With them are the five medics that he has also pulled into the mission. He takes a step to the front and waits for everyone to settle down. At his back stands Beck Ordo and Kal Skirata. He has left Tani and Walon Vau in command back in Keldabe much to Montross’s displeasure.
“Verde, we are twenty minutes out from landing at our destination.” Jaster watch as his warriors adsorb that statement. “We will be landing on Concordia shortly,” He clasps his hands behind his back and pull his shoulders back, projecting an image of control and command. “Our mission today is a rescue mission.” He pauses and takes a deep breath. “It has come to my attention that there is a Kyr’tsad training base located in one of the abandoned mines. I have solid information that Kyr’tsad has been kidnapping ade and brainwashing, abusing and forcing them them to become members.”
The statement causes a stir among the soldiers and a low muttering. Endangering children runs against the very core of their beliefs. Children are the future. “Currently I am certain that they have at least twenty ade, but intelligence indicates that the number can be as high as a hundred.” He wishes he had kept his helmet on as schooling his expression is becoming harder the more he thinks about what the children are more than likely going through. He waits for his verde to settle down again.
“Currently we have an asset that is busy infiltrating the base. Once they are in they will take control of the base electronics and security and clear a path for the children to escape by.” Jaster carefully sweeps his gaze over his people. “Our mission is two-fold. We will split into three groups. The largest group under command of Al’verde Ordo will lead the assault on the main entrance. Your mission will be to distract and draw most of their forces out.” He nods his head in Beck Ordo’s direction.
“I will lead a smaller group through the same entrance as our operative to rescue and free the ade. Al’verde Kal Skirata and his group will protect the ship and the baar’ur and set up for the ade.” He pauses and waits for the plan to sink in. “Our first responsibility is towards the safety of the children. Only!” He raises his voice slightly to emphasise the importance, “Only after the ade is safe and secured will we move in to ensure that none of Death Watch escape. Today we will strike a deadly blow to the terrorist that would pervert our very core traditions.”
Jaster watches as his ori’ramikad straightens. “Oya!” They shout out. Jaster nods at them. “Do an equipment check and sort yourselves to your designated teams.” He turns to look over at Beck and indicate the man to send out the squad assignments.
Din grunts as he lowers the body of the Death watch member he has just killed to the ground. It has taken him and Chip nearly four hours to find the hidden entrance and make their way stealthily into the base. The entrance is actually quite close to where his ship is parked but it was quicker to transport the droid on the speeder than have him travel the distance on his own power. Chip is built for navigating spaceships and stations, not rugged terrain. They have finally found a room that appears to have been a sub-control station for when the mine had still been operational. Straightening up he turns to where Chip is busy accessing the mine’s systems. “Will this work?” Din asks.
Chip beeps nonsensically for a moment before answering. “Death Watch are fucking idiots. They have not isolated any of the systems.” He goes quiet for a moment and then the lights flashes once, twice three times before shutting down. The droid beeps again and the low level red emergency lighting comes on. “The base is now locked down. I have taken control. All force barriers are now active.”
“Okay, then.” Din mutes his vocoder and switches to his helmet’s internal comms. “Chip one, Chip one.” He runs a check. Chip beeps back confirmation. “Take the first stairwell on the right, go down four levels and then take the second tunnel on the right. I will monitor you.” Nodding Din steps out of the room and takes a moment to ensure that the door is secure.
His helmet has adjusted to the low lighting with barely a second delay. Heading to the stairs he prays to both the Manda and the Force that only the twenty confirmed children are in the base as he has no idea how he will get them off the moon if there are more.
He quickly descends the stairs, on the second level he encounters a group of death watch members. It is quite clear that the three have no idea what is happening. He manages to shoot and kill two before they even become aware of him. The third reacts just a second too slowly and Din is in his space with a single step grabbing his hand with which he is trying to draw his blaster. With a twist of the wrist he spins the warrior around locking his other arm around his throat, a quick jerk and the third is also dead, neck broken.
Taking a moment to move the bodies out of the doorway Din continues down. “Two beings on the fourth level to the right of the stairway.” Chip calls out. Din grunts in acknowledgement. He slows his descent and lightens his steps so as not to alert his prey. Stepping out of the stairwell he fires two quick shots. He drops one but the other turns just as he fires and the bolt reflects off his pauldron. Sprinting across the short distance Din rapidly fires two more shots. The first hits the warrior in the left leg just above his thigh plate making him cry out and collapse. The second shot finds the small gap between ghet’bur and his buy’ce killing the being.
Just as he starts to drag the first of the two bodies back to the stairwell an alarm rings out throughout the base. “Dank Farrik!” Din curses. “Chip what the hell is going on?” He demands, quickly stuffing the body into the stairwell and rushing back to grab the second body. He has just made it to the stairwell and closed the door when he can hear the heavy steps of a group running past his hiding spot.
“Your diversion has arrived.” The droid replies calmly. “What kriffing diversion?!” He barks out. There is a hiss of static across his comms before. “You really thought that you could come into the system and take on a Death Watch base and not invite me, cyare?” Jaster Mereel’s voice answers. Like always his cool dark voice sends a shiver of want down Din’s spine. “Jaster.” Din breathes in greeting.
Jaster waits impatiently for the ship to land. Atin beeps from where the droid is standing next to him. Frowning Jaster looks down at his vambrace when a message comes in. Opening it he sees co-ordinates. “This is the entrance that Unit Mudhorn used to enter the base,” another beep and a floor plan of the base loads up. There are three markers in red. One close to the entrance location that Din had used to enter the mine, one in the middle levels and the last several floors deeper into the mine. As Jaster watches the middle one of the markers move. “First mark is Unit CH-1P in the sub-control room where he is manipulating the base’s security from. Deepest mark location of the ade. Moving marker is Unit Mudhorn.” The droid explain.
Forwarding the co-ordinates for the entrance to both Kal and the rest of Jaster’s team, Jaster takes a moment to do a final check on his gear and again check on the fuel level of his jetpack. Ordo’s group has done a low orbit jump so as not to alert the base of the direction the ship was going in. Watching the ramp lower, Jaster strides out at the front of his group. Only a few meters away is the Razor Crest parked. He turns and nods to Kal who has followed him out and is now directing the team to secure the area.
Seeing that all is under control he signals to his team and heads in the direction of the hidden entrance in a light jog. It takes them less than ten minutes to reach the entrance. It takes him a moment to spot the marks his hunter has left as way points. Quietly entering the mine he leads the way down to the first marked beacon. Reaching the door he knocks out the word mudhorn in dadita. It takes a few moments before the door slides open. Motioning two soldiers to guard the entrance he and the rest of the team enters the room. There is a droid plugged into the security grid. “CH-1P?” Jaster asks as he draws level with the droid. The droid merely beeps a confirmation.
Darla Kryze steps around Jaster and kneels next to the droid. Her neon green and pink armour standing out in the dark and dusty room. She holds up a splicer tool and waits for confirmation, Once again CH-1P merely beeps an affirmative. Splicing into the system the two work together for a moment before the large monitors in the room suddenly activate giving them access to the cameras throughout the base.
On the monitor on the far left Jaster can see the hallway outside the room. On the two far right monitors he can see several rooms holding children. Far more than twenty. It breaks his heart to realise that the Jetii was right. There are nearly a hundred children being kept here. Looking at them through the monitors he can see that they are all terrified, underfed and clearly suffering from whatever abuse Tor and his ilk has heaped on them. There are guards outside of the children’s cells but none in the rooms with them.
There is a series of beeps, “The ade are secured, Mand’alor.” Darla states. “The only way anyone is now getting in there is if we open it up or they blow the doors.” she continues. “Hopefully the death meat sacks have enough brains to realise that blowing doors will bring the whole fucking mountain down on their heads.” CH-1P snarks.
“Good.” Jaster simply answers as he sends the signal to Beck to start the attack. He receives an acknowledgement and then the next moment an alarm screeches through the base.
“Dank Farrik!” Jaster’s hunter’s voice suddenly fills the room. “Chip what the hell is going on?” He demands. “Your diversion has arrived.” The droid replies calmly. “What kriffing diversion?!” He barks out. Jaster feels a smile tugging at his lips. “You really thought that you could come into the system and take on a Death Watch base and not invite me, cyare?” He asks keeping his voice low. “Jaster.” his hunter breathes out. As always hearing his name from Din’s lips is enough to stoke a fire in him.
The centre screen flickers as it changes from camera to camera before settling on a camera angle that covers a stairwell. Jaster can see two dead bodies propped up against the wall.
“The half grown bio-sacks are secured.” the droid apparently called CHIP informs Din. There is a pause and then a long suffering sigh. On the screen Jaster sees his hunter tips his head back, and he just knows that his eyes are closed and he is counting to ten to keep his calm. “CHILDREN! Chip, they are called children.” he barks out. “As I said, half grown bio-sacks.” the droid snarks back.
“There are several Death Watch members between your location and the level the ade are on.” Darla speaks up. “We have activated the force fields and section doors so they are trapped in sections on route but you will have to go through them as there is no route around them.” She says as she turns to look at Jaster.
Jaster takes a half step forward. “We will join you shortly.” He states even as he signals two of his team to remain behind to guard the CHIP and Darla while they work on keeping control of the base.
“No.” Din states calmly. Jaster nearly reels back in shock at that. “What do you mean no?” He demands. “Tor does not know you are here.” Din answers. On screen Jaster can see him moving quickly but calmly down a passage that from its slope heads deeper into the mine.
“If Tor were to become aware of your presence here he might just decide to blow this mountain in the hopes that it will take you out as well.” Din says as he walks up to the first of a section cordoned off with force fields. Jaster can see two guards on the other side. Din lowers his voice. “You know this is for the best Jaster. Both for the protection of the ade but also for the good of Mandalore.” Jaster grinds his teeth and clenches his fists. The War Drums of the Manda echoes the truth in his hunter’s voice.
“I hate it when you are right like this.” He snaps out, before sighing “But you are right. I will send my squad to catch up with you to assist with the children. From what we can see there are almost a hundred locked in several cells along the same tunnel.” Din growls out several curses. “I hope your ship is big enough to transport them all.” He states even as he pulls his blaster, he raises his other hand and signals something.
Jaster watches as the force field drops and Din rushes in. He grabs the first guard by the arm before he can even pull his blaster, he spins them around using his body as a shield as the other one fires on them. Shooting in under the man’s helmet killing him instantly he drops the body. He ducks low and shoots the other guard in the side, from the angle Jaster knows it is a death shot.
Turning he gestures towards Bess Fenn. “I want you to lead the rest of the squad and assist the Beroya with the rescue of the ade.” Bess nods still looking at the screen. Din has taken out another three warriors. Someone in the back sighs. If it weren’t well known that his hunter carries Jaster’s courting blade the man would most likely be swamped in courting offers.
Gesturing at one of the squad to remain behind with him and Darla, Jaster watches as the rest leave the room. He moves to secure the door again. Once that is done he returns to his spot in the middle of the room where he has a clear view off all the screens. Either Darla or Chip must have done something because the view on the middle screen splits and now Jaster can see his squad moving to catch up with the hunter.
Din keeps moving onwards and there is a literal trail of dead bodies left behind in his wake. Keeping an eye on both teams Jaster comms Beck. “Mand’alor?” Ordo answers almost immediately. He sounds only lightly out of breath. “Beck, how are things going at your end?” Jaster asks for an update. There is a grunt and a bit of a delay before the commander answers, “We have secured the front entrance and have pinned down at least forty of their verde.” There is the sound of blaster fire and another grunt before he continues. “Vizsla is really scraping the bottom of the barrel with these, I have seen ade fresh from their verd’goten fight better than these sorry excuses of verde.” Jaster snorts, “We have dealt them a heavy blow on Concord Dawn, and with the withdrawal of support from several of the Traditional Clans they must be hurting for decent soldiers.”
He turns slightly, “Kryze do we have a headcount of the number of hostiles?” He asks. He watches as the young splicer scrambles for her device tapping away. “There are thirty-eight, wait no thirty-four trapped in the main entrance. Then there are another sixteen, no twelve, down the pathway leading to the cells. Ten more guarding the cells and another nine in the main control room.” She answers. “There were a hundred and two death meat sacks when we first entered the base.” Chip answered. “Five left in a spacecraft before we entered the base.”
Jaster frowns, “There is no sign of Tor here?” Chip beeps out a string of nonsense beeps before in the corner of the first screen a new video file opens up. According to the timestamp it was several hours earlier, just before they left Manda’yaim airspace. Jaster watches as Tor crosses the hanger towards the ship followed by his brother and three more. He recognises one. The bright armour that of Countess Gara Wren. The stark gold feathered aliik stark against the navy blue and yellow armour. It seems that the vassal clans to House Vizsla still stand with the Dar’manda Tor.
Looking up he noticed that Din has made it down to the last stairwell that will lead him down to the cells. His squad has also now caught up to the hunter. Jaster watches as Din sizes up the verde that Jaster sent to assist him. They must have passed against whatever standard the hunter is judging them by, because Din merely nods and using sign language instructs them on his plan. The soldiers take on their assigned places. Then Din lifts his hand and drops it, the door dividing the stairwell from the corridor opens and he moves first heading into the hallway shooting the whole way. Three bodies drop dead before they even realize what is happening.
The six members of Jaster squad sweep in after Din laying down cover fire. In less than mere minutes the guards are all dead. Din holsters his blaster and just stands for a few minutes. To Jaster it almost appears as if he is listening to something. Before he can ask what is happening Din moves down the corridor to the third cell.
The cell door opens just as he reaches it and a teenaged weequay rushes out followed by at least ten other youths. “Mudhorn!” He shouts, his voice gleeful. Turning to look at the other children. “See my intrepid fellows.” He grandly gestures toward the silver hunter. “I told you our stay in this substandard place would soon end. And here is our escort out of this dreadful place.”
Din walks closer and lightly cuffs him behind the head. “You worried both your mother and your captain.” The weequay merely grins up at him. Din shakes his head. The young pirate suddenly seems to notice the rest of the mandalorians standing behind Din. Tilting his head in a question, “Yeah they are safe.” Din answers the unasked question. Nodding the pirate starts to hustle the children towards the warriors. “Hondo catch.” Din says as he throws a blaster at the youth. Grabbing the blaster out of the air Hondo grins. “And this is why you are my favourite!” He proclaims. “Don’t let Calypso hear you say that.” Is Din’s only answer as he moves down to the next door. “Chip,” he says.
Jaster watches as the droid beeps for a few seconds and then all the doors to the cells holding the children opens. At first nothing happens then slowly children start peeking out of the cells. Din kneels down on one leg and slowly holds out an empty hand. He makes a gesture of a half complete circle and then just holds out his open hand palm up. It takes a few moments before one of the children speaks, “Anku?” Jaster is unsure of what language the child speaks but Din seems to understand immediately. “Analav.” He answers. The child bursts out in tears and rushes out to Din. Catching the young child, Din gently hugs them. He seems to murmur something too low to be picked up by the audio. After talking with Din the child straightens and starts calling out to the other children.
Soon there are ninety-five children standing in the corridor. Jaster watches as his hunter becomes more tense as he realises that this is all the children. Before Jaster can ask what is wrong, Din instructs Bes to lead the children to the surface. As the group starts to move Din breaks away and turns to head deeper into the mine. “Din?” Jaster asks.
Instead of answering Jaster, Din barks out, “Chip, where is she?!” The droid beeps in distress and the screens flicker as Chip searches through the camera feeds. “She is not in any monitored area.” Chip responds after going through all the cameras. “Fuck! Okay. Okay.” Din says. He takes a moment to breathe and does that listening pose again. “Okay, Jaster, make sure that you and your men get the children out of here as quickly as possible. I will follow shortly.”
Jaster frowns, “Where are you going?” He asks. “One of the kids is not with these ones so I will have to go look for her.” The answer comes. “The jetii-ad.” Jaster surmises out loud. “How…” Din trails off without finishing the question. “Calypso.” He says, Jaster can hear the exasperation in his voice. “Your oath sister is an interesting person.” Is all that Jaster says in reply. He switches to the private comm channel between him and his squad. “All right verde get the ade topside as quickly and as safely as possible. Bess follow and assists the Beroya, there is still one more ad missing.” He gets confirmation back and on screen he can see his soldiers starting to herd the children towards the stairs.
Din looks over as the warrior in blue painted armour moves to join him. He tilts his head in a question. “The Mand’alor has ordered me to assist you, Beroya.” The blue warrior answers the tone of his voice clearly stating that he will follow his leader’s instructions. Din frowns and just shakes his head, “Very well, but stay close.” He says as he heads down the corridor deeper into the mine. He stops every few steps to listen to the Force. He cannot clearly feel Nim, but the Force does tug him in a direction. He knows Nim has to be in a force suppressor collar. That is the only way they would be able to contain her. Even though she has only been a padawan for less than a year she is already well trained.
It takes another ten minutes of searching before they come to the end of the corridor and the last door. “Chip?” Din asks only to get static back. Looking around he realises they are out of range of the security system that monitors most of the mine. He turns to the last door. It is heavily locked. He takes a moment to reach out into the Force to see what he can feel on the other side of the door. He frowns; he can sense two life forms both young but also weak. Looking the door over he realises it does not have an electronic lock but a heavy manual bar lock. One that cannot be picked from the inside and needs a large amount of strength to open.
He indicates to his companion to take a step back and pull the bar off and pull the door open. Slowly he steps into the dimly lit room. The first thing he sees is a young girl with dirty blond hair almost old enough for her verd’goten standing protectively in front of another smaller child huddled on a dirty threadbare blanket in the corner of the rough hewn out cell. Before either he or the blond girl can say anything the younger girl shouts out, “Uncle!” And tries to stumble to her feet. Immediately the blond girl is at her side helping her up.
Din rushes over and kneels in front of the two girls. “Nim,” He says as she throws herself into his arms. Hugging her tightly he soothingly rubs up and down her back. “It’s okay, it’s okay ad’ika.” He murmurs. Looking up at the other child in the cell. Who has moved back a step to stand just outside of his reach. “Who is your friend?” He asks Nim. The padawan hiccups between tears and pulling slightly back out of Din’s arms she wipes at her eyes with one dirty hand. “This is Arla Fett, the Death Watch killed her family, stole her and is now forcing her to become an assassin. You have to save her too!” She demands.
Din looks over sharply at the blond girl, he can clearly hear the curse that the Haat’Mando warrior barks out. “Of course we will save her too.” He tells Nim.
Holding out his other hand to the young girl. “I promise that I will take you to safety and family. Haat, ijaa, haa’it,” He swears. It takes a long moment before the girl steps forward and takes his hand. “I don’t have an aliit anymore,” Arla whispers. “Oh ad’ika, I promise that you have and if you do not wish to stay with them I will find a family for you where you can be happy.” Din promises.
Getting to his feet Din picks up Nim and shifts her so that she is sitting on his hip. “I am not a baby.” She grouses even as she wraps her legs around his middle.
Din snorts, “Your ankle is badly sprained and we will need to move fast.” Turning to look at Arla, “Can he carry you?” He asks as he points at Bes. Arla looks over at the blue painted madalorian, his shades of blue looks nothing like the dark colour of Death Watch, but more importantly to her is the mythosaur symbol painted in bright orange on his left pauldron. Limping forward she nods.
Bes kneels down in front of her. “Can I carry you on my back, verd’ika?” he asks softly. When Arla nods he turns around and waits for her to wrap her arms around his neck. Making sure that he has a steady grip he pushes to his feet and after she wraps her legs around his middle he shifts her slightly so he is certain she is more secure. He looks over at the Beroya waiting for instructions.
Din moves pass them to take the lead. He sets a fast but steady space. Something has changed and the Force is vibrating with tension. As they reach the cells where the other children had been kept a burst of static comes from his comm before, “Din, Din can you hear me?” Jaster’s voice is suddenly in his ear. “Yes I can.” Din replies. “We are out of the dead zone. And we have the last of the children.”
“I can see that,” There is relief in Jaster’s voice. The vibrating hum of the Force ratches up another notch. “Jaster, are the children out of the mountain yet?” He demands as the feeling of foreboding keeps growing. “Not yet, we are waiting here at the control room.” The reply comes.
“Get out now!” Din shouts even as he picks up speed starting to sprint. He looks back but the young warrior carrying Arla is keeping up with him. “Din what…” Jaster starts asking, before he can finish his questions the entire mountain shakes. Din stumbles unbalanced as he is with Nim on his hip but he recovers almost instantly. “Get out!” Din shouts over the comm, “Make sure all your people and the children are out.” He can hear Jaster shouting out orders over the still open comm line.
Reaching the first set of stairs Din considers using his jet pack but realises that the other warrior does not have one. Stepping to the side he indicates to the other being to go first. The verd is well trained and does as indicated without question. Now making up the rear Din uses half of his attention to listen to the mountain in the force. He can feel the lowest support beams starts to collapse. There is another shake and this time Din can actually hear the explosion. They have now reached the last set of stairs that will take them up to the corridor that leads to the exit. Another two explosions follow and the Force is now screaming in his head. “Jaster?” He shouts into his comm. “All clear cyare.” The response comes. “It is just the four of you now.” Din can hear the stress is Jaster’s voice.
“Almost…” He begins to answer just as they exit the stairs, he can almost see the sunlight at the end of the corridor, when there is another explosion and the ceiling starts to cave in. He can hear Arla scream and without thinking he raises his hand up and using the Force he pushes against the falling debris. He stumbles and nearly drops Nim.
Bes turns when he hears the Beroya stumble and for a second he freezes. The silver warrior is down on one knee, his one arm wrapped around the child he is carrying, the other raised up in the air almost like he is pushing something up. Raising his eyes he takes a step back, floating in the air is half a mountain’s worth of boulders and dirt. Somehow the man has stopped the roof from collapsing. He watches as the warrior pushes the jetti’ad in his direction. “Go get out of here.” Beroya commands, “But…” the child starts to argue. “No buts Nim. Get out! Now!” He shouts. Bes takes a step forward and grabs the child by the arm and starts dragging her towards the exit. She is shouting all the way. They have barely cleared the exit when the entire mountain shivers and with a great dust cloud the corridor they had been in mere moments earlier collapses.
The jetii’ad pulls out of his grasp and tries to run back towards the now block door, but Arla Fett is slightly faster to react than he is. Sliding from his back and grabbing the girl and pulling her back towards safety. “No! No,” Nim screams as she pulls against the older girl’s hold. “Nim, Nim,” Arla says as she shakes the younger girl. “We cannot just rush in.” The blond haired youth pulls the crying girl into her arms. Bes just stand there and watch the young girl cry in the arms of her cell mate.
“Bes report!” The Mand’alor commands suddenly at his side. “Alor, he… the ceiling… and then…” Bes tries but he is rattled and shaking and suddenly feeling very light-headed. He can hear the Mand’alor curse and calls for a medic. Before one can reach them there is another tremor through the ground and with an ear-piercing screech the boulders blocking the exit shifts and out of the dust the silver warrior comes stumbling.
Jaster watches in horror as Bes comes rushing out of the mountain carrying one ad and pulling another along by the arm. The child screaming all the way. He has not taken two steps in their direction when a massive tremor rocks the ground and the doorway collapses. There is no sign of his hunter. The young girl’s screams take on a desperate tone and she tries to rush back to the mountain. She is stopped by the blond haired ad that Bes had been carrying on his back. Reaching the younger warrior Jaster demands a report. The verd tries to answer but it is clear that he is suffering from shock. Cursing Jaster turns and looks over at the baar’ur that is treating the children and calls one over.
Another after-shock draws Jaster’s attention back towards the mountain and he watches in shock and awe as the boulders that had been blocking the entrance mere moments ago shift, opening up to allow his hunter to stumble out in a cloud of dust. The man only makes a few steps before he collapses.
The jetii-ad pulls from the blond haired child’s hold and rushes over the collapsed warrior. Jaster races after her and he notices several of his men following him. The girl drops to her knees next to the silver armour mandalorian and tries to roll him over, but it is clear to Jaster that she is not strong enough. He drops down next to her and carefully helps her to turn his hunter on his back. The first baar’ur that reaches then moves to pull off the hunter’s helmet.
“NO!” The girl shouts, knocking the medic’s hands away from the helmet. “Ad.” The medic responds calmly, “We need to remove his helmet to check what treatments he needs.”
The girl shakes her head, “No, no you can’t, only family can see his face.” She angrily states keeping her hands on the helmet to prevent anyone from touching it. The Medic turns to Jaster, “Mand’alor.” He asks, hoping Jaster will reason with the child. Jaster shakes his head. “She is right.” He says, “He is tribal. It is against their creed.” There is muttering throughout the growing crowd around the four of them.
Jaster looks up sharply. “This mission is not over yet!” He snaps. “Get the ade treated and onto the ship! We are sitting nuna birds here in the open. We need to get the ade to safety.” Several of his warriors shift clearly embarrassed to be taken to task. Jaster huffs, still glaring at them.
“You know you are kind of hot when you shout like that,” a weak voice speaks up. Jaster whips his head down to look at his hunter who seems to have gained consciousness. Before he can answer the girl throws herself down on the prone man. “Uncle, I was so worried.” She cries. Din gingerly reaches up and pats her back. “It is all okay, Nim.” He stutters, “But I am going to ask you to get off my chest.” he asks. She immediately sits up.
“Din?” Jaster asks. “I might have some broken ribs.” The hunter replies. The medic pushes Jaster and Nim away gently and shifts so that he has better access to the man’s chest. “Any other damage that you can describe verd?” He asks as he pulls out a handheld medical scanner and starts to scan the injured man. “Mostly bruises and exhaustion. My armour protected me from the worst.” Din says. Jaster can hear how he tries to keep his breaths shallow.
Tilting his head to get a better look at Jaster, “Did everybody get out?” he asks. Jaster nods, “Yes and the rest of my people should be joining us shortly.” The medic completes his scan just as Kal walks up to join the group. “Mand’alor, all the children are aboard the ship and Beck is five minutes out.” Jaster pushes to his feet and turns to his friend. “Thanks Kal,” He turns back to Din to see the medic slowly help him to his feet. “I need to get him to a medbay to treat his wounds. He is going to need a bacta injection for his ribs.” The baar’ur states in a tone of voice that brooks no argument.
“That is really not necessary.” Din starts only for the young girl to turn around and glares at him crossing her arms over her chest, “If you don’t do as the doctor says I am telling your grandma, and your mom.”
Jaster is glad that he still has his helmet on so that his smile is not visible. Din’s helmet hides his face but Jaster is certain he is frowning at the girl. “I do not see why your teacher is certain you are not for the consular track.” He states his voice as dry as the dune sea on Tatooine.
“Master Yaddle says you can do anything if you really put your mind to it.” The girl says snootily as she raises her nose into the air. Reaching out, Din lightly tugs on her padawan braid. “You scamp are going to drive Rael up the wall before you are knighted.” he merely states.
He turns to Jaster, “Lead on then Alor.” causing Jaster to swallow several times before he can only nod and turn to lead the way towards his ship. The medic helps support Din as they cross the uneven terrain.
Kal falls in step with Jaster as they walk several paces ahead. “You have got it so bad.” He chuckles. Jaster merely shrugs one shoulder. “But the reason I came over is that we have an issue.” Kal states. Jaster sighs, “What now?” He asks. “The other girl that Bes and your hunter rescued.” Kal continues. “Her name is Arla Fett.” Jaster abruptly stops and turns to Kal. “What did you say?” He demands. Kal shakes his head, “You heard me. She is Arla Fett, daughter of Cassus Fett. She said that she was taken prisoner after watching Tor kill her parents and her friend who was staying with them after Death Watch had killed their parents too.”
Jaster makes a wounded sound. “I thought she was dead.” He closes his eyes. Oh Manda how could he have missed this. “Hi, Jaster no.” Kal places a hand on his leader’s shoulder, “There is no way you could have known. Nobody knew about their foundling, and Jango was far too young to realise that we needed to know exactly how many people were in the house.” He gave his friend a light shake. “Do not beat yourself up about this. Right now you need to take control of this situation. We need to get back to Keldabe, there are a near hundred ade that needs medical treatment and need to either be returned to their families or need to be placed with clans that can adopt them.”
Nodding Jaster straightens and starts walking towards the ship again. As they draw near the two ships he sees the young weequay standing next to Chip at the open hatch of Din’s ship. He watches as Din pulls away from the medic and slowly walks over to Hondo. He turns his head and sees the padawan standing next to the medic with her arms crossed. Din talks to Hondo for several minutes and then the young pirate and the droid head into the ship, closing the hatch behind them.
Din carefully makes his way back over to Jaster’s side. “Please tell your people not to shoot him out of the sky. Calypso will have a complete fit if you kill her favourite apprentice.” He sounds tired and he seems to waver on his feet. Jaster steps in and wraps his arm around Din’s waist so that he can support some of his weight. “Come on, let’s get you to medbay.” He says. Din merely nods and lets Jaster steer him into the ship. As they reach the top of the ramp Jaster can hear the sound of incoming jetpacks. Turning they watch as Beck and the rest of his team land and head up the ramp into the ship.
Watching as Beck deliberately stalks across the deck towards Jaster. The Mand’alor looks over his friend before looking over the rest of the team. No one seems injured although one of the verd is limping slightly.
“Mand’alor,” Beck greets as he draws level with Jaster and Din, turning to look at the silver armoured hunter leaning on Jaster, “Mudhorn.” he greets. “Beck,” Jaster greets, “How did it go?” He asks even as he slowly starts to steer them in the direction of the medbay. “Death Watch refused to exit the mountain when we evacuated.” He pulls off his helmet and rubs at his eyes. “They were fanatical, Jaster. I have never seen anything like it before.”
They walk in silence for a moment before Beck asks, “Do you know what triggered the collapse?” Jaster shakes his head in negative but Din does speak up. “The support beams on the lower levels were rigged with explosives. The mountain has been heavily mined and was already very unstable before they started modifying it for their base. They only needed to blow a few key points to bring the whole thing down.”
They reach the medbay to see the medic from earlier has the two girls that Din and Bes have rescued up on one bed. Jaster helps Din over to the other bed and helps him onto it. The medic comes over and frowns at Din. The two stare at each other for a long moment before the hunter slumps slightly. “Everything can come off except the helmet.” The medic frowns harder, Din shifts a bit. The medic crosses their arms. “The helmet can come off if it is just you and the room is closed and all monitoring devices are disabled.”
“Do the helmet need to come off?” The medic asks, their voice very stern. Din tilts his head to the side clearly considering his answer. “No, in fact it may be better to keep it on.” The medic moves to gather several supplies, “Okay can you explain to me why it is better for the helmet to stay on?” They ask. But instead of Din answering it is the padawan that speaks up. “The same reason I told you not to remove the slave collar.” The medic frowns at the child and Jaster realises that although the cuffs on her wrists have been removed the collar is still secured around her neck.
“Not quite the same ad’ike,” Din says, “but yeah I am far too tired and the beskar offers shielding.” The medic mutters something under their breath and gestures at Din’s breastplate. “Here let me.” Jaster offers, stepping up. Din nods and Jaster carefully starts the process of taking the hunters armour of. “I will arrange for a Goran to meet us when we return to Keldabe to assist the ad.” They turn to Din, “Will you also need assistance?” Din shakes his head, “No, I just need some rest.” The medic makes a non-committal sound and waits for Jaster to finish stripping Din of the top half of his armour.
Once that is done the medic gently pushes Jaster out of the way, “Can they stay or do they need to leave?” He asks Din. The hunter sighs, “They can stay.” Before Jaster can say anything Din jerks his head in the direction of the two girls sitting on the opposite bed, forcing Jaster’s thoughts back to the heartbreaking case of Arla Fett.
Moving across the room to the two girls he stops in front of them, Taking off his helmet he runs a hand through his hair before placing the helmet on the bed next to Arla. “The last time I saw you, you had just started to talk. I was visiting and I cannot remember what happened but I said a curse word and you heard it. You spent the whole day toddling after me shouting…” “Kriff…” Arla whispers. Jaster nods, “Your buir got so angry that she literally threw me out of the house.”
“Tor killed them because they would not swear to him. Cas’buir said that you were the true Mand’alor and Tor was dar’manda for going against the council of clans.” Arla wrings her hands together. Jaster watches as Nim reaches out and gently touches her hands, stilling them. “I am all alone now. I have no family left.” Arla whispers. Jaster clears his throat trying to swallow back the tears that are threatening to fall. “That is not quite true.” He says, “Your brother Jango escaped.”
Arla looks up at that, “Jango’s alive?” She demands. Jaster nods, “Yes, I, I adopted him as my ad. And if you will have me I will speak the gai bal manda for you too.” He holds out a hand towards her and waits, after a few moments of neither moving, he starts to lower his hand, “If you don’t want me we can find…”
“No, no please, I accept.”Arla rushes out. Jaster takes a step closer and takes her hand, “Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’ad Arla Fett House Mereel,” He speaks the ancient vow. Arla bursts out in tears and throws herself into his arms. Folding her into a hug he looks up and sees Din watching him. His flight suit is open and Jaster can see the white of bandages peeking out. Somehow he knows that Din is smiling.
Jaster looks over at Kal. “Get us into the air and back to Keldabe.” He instructs. Kal nods and heads out of the room. Holding his daughter in his arms he looks back over to Din and the war Drums of the Manda softens taking on an almost lullaby quality. This was the right thing to do.
Chapter 10
Year 943 ARR/ 57 BBY
Jaster enters the command deck of their ship just as they prepare to descend into Mandalore’s atmosphere. He has spent most of the short flight in the med-bay with his new daughter and his hunter. It had been intriguing to observe the man and the young jetii-ad. She had given her space next to Arla up to Jaster and had promptly climbed up on the bed next to Din and snuggled up to him. Din had shifted to accommodate her better and had taken out a blaster and started to disassemble it, instructing her in his quiet voice on the best way to care and clean this particular type of blaster. It had been soothing to Jaster to just be in the presence of the man.
But now he needs to be Mand’alor and deal with the fall out of this mission. They now have irrevocable proof that Tor is still alive. He sees Kal and Beck standing off to the side of the deck. They seem to be arguing about something. He heads over to them hoping that whatever the cause for the tension is that it will give enough time to land and rest.
“Jaster,” Beck greets as Jaster draws level with them. “How are your new ad and you ven’riduur?” Running his hand through his hair Jaster sighs. “Arla is sleeping and frankly Beroya,” Kal’s scoff interrupts Jaster. “You know that almost everyone on this mission has heard his name right?” The dark haired man demands. Jaster frowns at Kal. Beck chuckles, “Come now Jaster, the tooka is well and truly out of the bag.” He gives Jaster a sly side eye, even as he turns to look out the window as they breach the planet’s atmosphere. “You managed to bag yourself a star touched.”
“Do not talk about him like that,” Jaster snaps at his friends. “Whoa, whoa,” Kal holds up his hands, “We are just teasing,” he says. Jaster sighs and rubs his eyes. “Sorry, I am exhausted.”
“And worried about your ade and the hundred other things that come with being Mand’alor.” Beck finishes the sentence. Jaster merely nods. “Well we now have definite proof that he is ka’ra’tigaanur.” Kal says. Beck frowns, “Yeah and he has also admitted to it in a very roundabout way.” he turns to look at Jaster, “Do you think he was trained by the Jetii?” The man asks, “Because that can cause some issues.”
There is a slight bump as the ship touches down on the landing pad at the Keldabe palace. “No, his buir trained him. They have several ka’ra’tigaanur in their tribe and have a long history of training those with the gift in how to use it.” Jaster states as he watches the verd piloting the ship go through the shutdown procedures. “Goten teh Ka’ra,” Kal whispers half in a statement and half in question. Jaster nods his confirmation. “So you found the lost tribe.” Beck jokes.
Jaster rolls his eyes. “Do not call them that in front of Din.” He merely says. “Oh?” Beck asks and then grins, “You did, didn’t you.” He says in delight. Pulling a face Jaster nods, “And then had to listen to a nearly ten minute rant about how they are not lost, they know exactly where they are.” he groused.
Beck and Kal share a look before bursting out laughing. “Oh that is hilarious!” Kal exclaims wrapping an around Jaster’s shoulder, “Come let us go and collect your hunter and ad and get them settled.”
Jaster slowly opens the door to his apartment. It has been several hours since they had landed and he was dead on his feet. From the moment he stepped off the ship he had been in meetings and planning sessions. Din, the jetti’ad and for some reason Arla had been whisked away by the Goran be Keldabe who had been waiting for them on the landing area and before Jaster could say anything he himself had been ambushed by Walon. He is now running on his third day with almost no sleep.
Just thinking about what the spy master has found makes his blood boil. They have a spy in the Haat’Mando. The reason that Tor had fled from the base was that he received a message from someone in the citadel that alerted him to their coming. Someone in their midst is working with Kyr’tsad. It was a blow that he will have to just absorb for now. Because right now there are a hundred other things that need his attention.
First is the health and safety of the children they have rescued. All the children are currently in the care of the medical personnel. He has instructed Darla to gather the best splicers in the Haat’ade to follow-up on the children’s identities. So far they have confirmed that twenty of the ade were indeed stolen from republic worlds and have families desperately waiting for their safe return. That does make dealing with them somehow easier and harder at the same time.
So far of the others they have not found a single living relative to return any of the children to. Which means that they need to be placed in foundling homes where they can recover and meet with prospective clans to be adopted. Which is causing a problem of a completely different kind as now there are accusations of the Headhunters being given preferential treatment as several of them have already laid claim to some of the children.
Entering his apartment he stops dead in his tracks. There sitting in the karyai is his hunter along with Jaster’s children and the jetii-ad. Jango looks up at the sound of the door opening, “Buir!” he shouts as he dashes out of the sunken sitting area to rush over to Jaster. Kneeling down Jaster lets the small boy run into his arms. He engulfs him in a hug and just breathes for a moment, grateful to the Manda for this.
Jango pulls slightly out of the hug to look his father in the face. “You found Arla!” He shouts before throwing himself back into the hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Jaster hides his face in his son’s hair. “Nayc entye ner ad, nayc. There is no debt between us, ever.” He whispers. Standing back up he picks up Jango and heads towards the others. He is halfway across the room when someone very pointedly clears his throat.
Looking over to the kitchen area Jaster finally notices Mij. The doctor is standing next to the counter that divides the room with his arms crossed over his chest and a frown on his face. “Mij,” Jaster greets. “Mand’alor,” The man returns. He looks over at Jango, “Hi verd’ika why don’t you come and help me with making some food? While we do that your buir can grab a quick shower.” For a moment it looks like Jango is going to argue but then the jetii-ad speaks up.
“Oh I have never had mandalorian food.” She says, getting up and walking over to where Jaster is standing with Jango still in his arms. “Can you tell me about the spices?” she asks. Jango’s eyes gets huge and he wiggles so much that Jaster needs to place him down onto the ground before he drops him. Grabbing her hand he draws her into the kitchen and to Mij. “We must make tiingilar.” He very seriously tells the girl. “It is the best.” he says with a serious nod.
Jaster looks over at Mij but the man only smiles and flaps a hand at him. “Arla come and help!” Jango demands from the kitchen where he is showing the jetii-ad where the spice drawer is. He looks over the karyai and watches as Arla seems to debate before getting up and joining her brother and the jetii-ad. He takes in the three children and Mij before deciding that a shower does sound wonderful.
He is halfway to his room before he realises that Din is following him. The man silently follows him into the room and gently closes the door behind him. “I am sorry.” He says when Jaster turns around to look at him. “For what?” Jaster asks with a frown. The silver armoured warrior shrugs one shoulder, “For intruding into your private space, meeting your children without you here, for telling Jango about Arla?” He says as he looks away from Jaster. The tension is clear in the set of his shoulders.
Jaster snorts and steps in close to Din, lifting one hand he wraps it around the back of the hunter’s neck pulling him in for a mirshmure’cya. He closes his eyes and just takes a moment to just breathe. The coolness of Din’s pure beskar helmet against his forehead is actually soothing. “Cyare, it was a relief when Mij contacted me and said that the Goran had brought you here to my quarters.”
Din rests a hand on Jaster’s hip. “I was worried that I had over stepped.” he says, still in that quiet way of speaking that he has. “Never.” Jaster disagrees. “What you should be sorry for is Leritor.” He says as he uses his bulk to gently push Din into the closed door at his back. He can feel Din start to tense, “Leritor?” He asks.
“Mmm,” Jaster hums, as he pushes his leg in between Din’s. “You kissed me senseless and then left me hard and aching, in only a towel for my friends to find.” He leans more of his weight onto Din. Din’s raises his other hand and tangles it in Jaster’s hair. “If it is any consultation I was just as hard and had Calypso laughing at me the entire trip back to Tatooine.” That startles a laugh out of Jaster and he regretfully takes a step back.
“I really should shower.” He states tiredly. Din nods, “I will go and help with preparing late meal.” he hesitates for a moment. “I want you to know that I do take the courting seriously.” he fiddles with the dagger at his side. “Its just that…” He trails off. “We both have duties and responsibilities that needs to come first.” Jaster finishes. Din nods and with a sigh he turns and opens the door, looking over his shoulder at Jaster, “Hopefully soon I would be able to join you here more permanently.” and with that he steps out and pulls the door close behind him.
Jaster closes his eyes and rests his head against the door. The Manda’s drum beating softly but hopefully.
It is nearly twenty minutes later when Jaster joins them in the karyai. Even though he is dead tired, the shower has helped refresh him a bit. He wants to frown when he realises that the group has been joined by Tani, Kal and Beck. He glares at his friends as he settles into the seat across from Din. The space around Din is taken up by the children. The jetii-ad is snuggled into his side with Arla sitting tightly next to her. On his other side is Jango busy telling the hunter a story that involves a lot of big hand gestures. Taking the scene in, Jaster realises that the two girls must also have showered as they both appear clean and are in the basic tunic and pants that almost all foundlings are given when they are first found.
Mij hands Jaster a bowl of stew, taking it he realises that everyone has food except for Din. He moves to speak up when Tani places a hand on his knee and shakes her head. “We have offered already but he has declined. He said he will eat later.” She whispers softly. Jaster frowns but accepts her answer. He starts to eat and for a few moments moving food to his mouth and chewing takes all of his attention. He is halfway through the bowl of stew when Beck asks a question of Din that draws his attention back to the people in the room with him.
“So Beroya, how did you get involved in this whole mess?” he asks. Din tilts his head and seems to consider Beck for a moment. “Technically I was hired by the Jetii Alor to retrieve their stolen padawan.” He answers dryly. The tone of his voice indicates that there is far more to it than the answer given. The jetii-ad’s snort confirms it even though she does not say a thing. “And because I was already hired for that job the parents of the stolen ade were advised to contact the guild and hire me as well.”
Kal frowns as he listens to Din’s answer. “And how much does the Guild charge those poor parents for your services?” He asks with a barely concealed sneer. Din tilts his head, the blankness off his helmet somehow conveying the raised eyebrow. “A credit per family.” He merely says. That causes Kal to freeze. “Oh,” is his only response.
The jetii-ad snorts loudly. “Nim,” Din sighs. “What?” she asks, looking up at him with wide eyes. Din merely shakes his head. “You are going to drive Rael to insanity.” is his response. Nim smiles impishly. “Grandmaster Dooku says that a Jedi must always be prepared and practise patience and tolerance with great dignity.” She says in a haughty voice, clearly an impression of someone.
Turning to look at Jaster, “I need to leave early tomorrow to make it to the rendezvous spot so that the children can be returned to their families.” He pauses, “And to get Hondo off the planet before he steals or does something that will get him shot.”
Nim giggles. “He was very put out when you told Chip to make sure that he does not leave the ship.” she suddenly yawns loudly. Next to her Arla also yawns.
“Right, we should head to the ship to get some sleep.” Din says as he moves to stand. “You can take my room.” Jaster says before he can think. Everyone pauses and turns to look at him. Jaster swears that his face feels like he had stuck it into the forge fire so hot it burns. “What I mean is. I normally sleep in the karyai with Jango. The girls can sleep here as well and my room is secure, you would be able to take your armour off in safety.”
Kal shakes his head and mutters something to Beck that makes the other man snort. Mij suddenly coughs and starts to gather all the bowels together. “I, uhm, thank you Jaster.” Din says. Pushing to his feet Jaster starts to fold up the table to make space for the bed rolls. “It’s no problem and it is late and this is far more convenient for everyone, right?” he turns to the large chest standing on one side of the sunken area and starts pulling out extra blankets and pillows.
Beck shakes his head and pulls Kal after him as they head for the door of the apartment. “Rest well. We will see you tomorrow morning.” Is all he says as he pulls the door close after them.
Tani just shakes her head and starts to help Jaster set up the sleeping mats. Jaster sees Din pull Nim to the side and have a conversation with her. They speak far too softly for Jaster to hear, but he does see the girl just shake her head at whatever it is that Din has said. He watches the man gently rest a hand on her shoulder before giving it a light squeeze and lightly push her in the direction of Arla. Nim smiles up at the hunter before practically skipping over to where Arla is standing on the edge of the karyai.
Setting down the last blankets on the sleeping mats Jaster straightens and turns to look at the children. “All right verd’ika into bed with you. Today was a super long day and we all need a good night’s sleep.” Jaster says while clapping his hands. Nim yawns just as Jango starts to pout. “I am dead on my feet.” She agrees before taking the outside bed roll. As she settles in, Jaster notices her discretely slipping a knife under her pillow. He looks over at Din to see the man nodding at her. A part of Jaster wants to argue against it, but truthfully he does not know enough about how jettise are raised to know if it is appropriate or not. To mandalorians she is too young to have passed her verd’goten yet, so her protection should fall to her elders. On the other hand if she knows how to use the knife and it makes her feel comfortable he has no issue with it.
Kneeling down again he helps Jango settle and tucks him in. He reaches across his son to tug the blankets in around Arla as well. “Sleep well ner ade.” He says before getting up.
Mij joins him at the edge of the karyai holding a heated bowl of stew with a fork, he hands it over and jerks his head in Din’s direction. Taking the bowl from him Jaster smiles in thanks. He turns and heads over to his hunter. “Let me give you some sleeping clothes. I should have some that will most likely fit you.” He says as he heads towards his room, Din silently follows Jaster.
Entering the room Jaster places the bowl onto the table next to the door. “Mij warmed up some of the stew for you.” He says. Without looking at Din he heads over to his closet and rummages around for a pair of soft sleep pants. He is debating on which top to take when Din crowds his back gently pushing him against the door. He stills as he feels the hunter rest his forehead against the back of his neck. They stand for a moment just existing in each other’s presence. “Thank you.” Din whispers.
Jaster turns around still holding the pants and wraps his arms around the armoured man, pulling him into a hug. “I am the one that must thank you.” He replies. “You found and rescued Arla,” he feels Din relax in his arms. “I will prove myself worthy and wait for however long it takes for you to accept me.” Din lifts his head, even though Jaster cannot see his eyes through the darkness of his visor he can feel the intensity of Din’s stare.
“You are the Mand’alor. The Manda’s own chosen. It is I that must prove my worth to you.” Din states sounding half outraged at the fact that Jaster thinks that he needs to prove himself worthy. Jaster snorts and pulls Din into a soft keldabe kiss. “If I am the Manda’s chosen, then you are its favourite child.” He sighs a long sigh. “Whenever you are close I can hear the Drums sing for you. A victory beat.”
Din pulls away again, going so far as to step back entirely although he is very careful to keep one hand resting on Jaster’s hip. “Hopefully soon I will be able to join you and fight at your side, but…” he trails off. “But the Manda still calls on you to walk separately from me still.” Jaster finishes the sentence. Din can only nod, before finally stepping away completely. Jaster swallows, fighting the urge to pull the man back closer to him again. Instead he holds up the pants, “Do you want a top as well?” He asks. Din shakes his head and takes the pants from Jaster.
“You can use my fresher to shower, there is soap and fresh towels.” He says as he moves toward the door. Stopping next to the table he turns back and looks at Din. “The door has a deadbolt on the inside. So once you lock it, the door needs to be physically broken open from the outside if anyone wants to enter without your permission.”
“Thank you.” Din says. Jaster nods. “Sleep well Din.” He says as he leaves, pulling the door close behind him. He waits until he hears the bolt slide close before he heads over to the karyai and his sleeping mat. Getting in under the blankets he notices that while both Jango and Arla are fast asleep the jetii-ad is still wide awake, looking at him with large eyes.
“The Force is very invested in my uncle.” The child says. “It can be a very heavy burden to carry alone.” Her voice seems to echo slightly. “I thought Jetii didn’t believe in relationships?” Jaster asks, intrigued by this waif of a child. The girl hums. “That is true, but my uncle is not now or has ever been a Jedi.” She suddenly yawns. “In fact I am pretty sure if the high council was ever to become aware of the star born mandalorians they will have a collective heart attack.” she murmurs sleepily as she snuggles into her blankets. Jaster shakes his head. “Go to sleep ad’ika. I have the watch.” He watches as she drifts off to sleep before turning off the lights.
Year 943 ARR/ 57 BBY
Yaddle tracks the Razor Crest as it comes in too land. Standing at her back are Dooku and Tholme. The council has sent Dooku with her ostensible as support, but they both are fully aware that it is in fact in censure for her going behind their backs and hiring a bounty hunter to rescue their stolen padawan and then also the stolen children. Tholme had laughed hysterically when Dooku had joined them on Bandomeer. Yaddle frowns her ears flicking in thought. Thinking about it, Tholme seems to be a bit stressed lately. She should consider forcing him to take some vacation time.
She reaches out into the Force and feels her Din and Nim with them are twenty-one other young and bright sparks. The rescued children. She stretches out further. Across the landing docks she can feel Calypso and Paz. They are relaxed but also clearly on guard.
The ship lands and starts to cycle down. After another ten or so minutes the back door opens and the ramp extends. Din exists the ship first. Nim follows on his heels with the rest of the children, bringing up the rear is a young weequay and a droid. Yaddle gives the children a critical look over. They are all clean and dressed in clean clothes. She can see bandages on some of them. It is quite clear that they had been medically treated and had been looked after, after their rescue.
The group crosses the landing pad and comes to a halt in front of the three jedi. “Jetii.” Din greets with a nod. Although he appears cold and stand-off all three can feel his amusement clearly in the Force. “Mando.” Yaddle greets, her face serious and her tone formal, while she pokes her adopted grandson through the Force.
“As per the bounty, here are the captured padawan and the twenty stolen children.” He tilts his head in the direction of the children. Yaddle turns to Tholme. “Knight Tholme, please escort the children to our ship.” She waits for Tholme to bow and to start ushering the children away from the group and across the landing field to where their ship is located. “Mando, let me introduce you to Master Dooku. He is a member of the high council.” Dooku gives a slight bow, and Din acknowledges with a nod.
“If you join me on my ship then we can settle the matter of payment.” He says and turns and heads back to his ship without looking to see if they follow. He stops when he reaches the young weequay. “Calypso is just across the dock.” Din says, “Head straight to her and tell them I will join you on the Red Shadow shortly.” The youth nods and heads in the direction that Din had indicated. “Chip. Make sure he doesn’t take any detours.” He commands the droid. He receives a string of profanities but the droid does hurry off after the young pirate.
Entering the ship Din leads the two Jedi masters deep into the ship. When they are secure he turns and removes his helmet. “How the haran did you get sent here?” he asks his father. Dooku snorts, “The council decided that it was clear that I was just as disapproving about this plan as they were and felt that I would keep Master Yaddle in check.” The older man states dryly. Din raises his eyebrows in disbelief.
Dooku shrugs. “Yes well I was trying my best not to let them feel or see my complete amusement.” he states haughtily. Din shakes his head and chuckles. “How many heart attacks do you think there will be when it comes out that basically two very prestigious lineages are going mando?” The grin his blood father gives him is slightly feral. “Hopefully enough that we can get more open minded beings onto the council.”
Shaking her head, Yaddle pokes at Din. “Was suppose to be here more than a day ago, you were.” She brings the conversation back onto the real reason they are here. Din sighs and slumps against the bulkhead behind him. “I was assisted in my rescue by the Haat’ade.” He rubs a hand over his face. Dooku and Yaddle share a look. “Wise that was?” Yaddle asks.
“There were nearly a hundred children in that base. Most of them in dire need of medical attention.” Din looks at Yaddle before looking away. “If it were not for Jaster and his commandos I would never have gotten them all out.” Yaddle hums while she considers Din’s statement.
“Where are the rest of the children now?” Dooku asks. “They were all placed in foundling homes while it is being established if they have families to return them to.” Din answers. He rubs a hand over his thigh. It is one of the very few tells that he has. It has taken Dooku ages before he picked it up. “And if there are no families for them to return to?”
Din tilts his head, clearly considering how to answer the question. “The ones without families will be carefully introduced to clans who are looking to adopt.” Dooku considers this, “And they will all be adopted?” He asks, the idea more than a bit foreign still to him. Din nods, “All those that want to be adopted yes.” That makes Dooku pause. “And those that do not want to be adopted?”
“Well if they are older than thirteen then they will be assigned a mentor to help them pass their verd’goten and that being will assist them in finding a trade.” Din pushes off the wall to stand a bit straighter. “If they are under the age of thirteen then they remain in the foundling house. There they will be housed and educated until they are old enough for their verd’goten and then they too will be assisted into a trade of their choosing.”
“Truly amazing how the True Mandalorians look after children.” Yaddle states. “This is the way. Children are the future.” Din murmurs. He pulls out a data-stick and hands it over to Yaddle. “This is all the information that Chip could find in the base about the interaction between the banking clan and Death Watch.” Taking it Yaddle frowns. “Think the Banking clan is funding Death Watch do you?” She asks, clearly troubled by this. Din nods, “If not the Banking clan directly then they are doing it on the behest of someone.” He agrees.
“You believe the Sith are behind this?” Dooku asks, worriedly. “Think about it.” Din replies, “an unstable Mandalore is to their benefit. A strong united Mandalorian Empire would be an immense threat to their own goals of a galaxy wide empire.” The older man pales as he considers his son’s statement. Turning to Yaddle, “We are hunting and slowly ferreting out the traces of the sith. But clever they are. Have had a thousand years to learn to hide themselves and their tracks.” she confirms. “The council will never believe this.” Dooku says tiredly.
“Not without overwhelming proof.” Yaddle agrees. Turning back to Din she pulls out the credit chit and holds it out to him. “I have marked the bounty as completed to great satisfaction. But depart we must now. Not draw attention to you, we must.” Taking the credit Din pockets it before pulling on his helmet again. “I have a few ends to tie up but I should be able to make a trip to Coruscant in a few months.”
“Let us know. Jaro and Selene wish to see you.” Yaddle states as she points at the ground in front of her. Din chuckles as he kneels down and pulls her into a hug. “Take care ba’buir.” he greets her. “May the Force be with you bu’ad.” She replies, tightening her arms around his neck just a bit before stepping away from him. Standing back up, Dooku pulls him into a hug also. “Thank you, for rescuing Nim and for saving Rael.” He whispers. “Family looks after each other.” Din replies, and with that, Dooku and Yaddle turn to leave the ship. Din waits until they are clear of the ship before he raises the ramp and closes the door.
Year 944 ARR/ 56 BBY
Din comes awake with a shout. The taste of blood sharp in his mouth and the stench of burned flesh in his nose. The cold ice filled mud underneath him is slippery with his blood. Pain lances through his left knee and side and the overwhelming rage of being betrayed wars with the grief of knowing that this is his end and he is leaving his children behind unprotected.
Suddenly light floods the space and hands are on his shoulders gently shaking him, a well known and loved voice is calling his name over and over. One of the hands shifts to rest over his heart. “Breath with me Din.” The voice commands. “In, hold, out, hold.” Din struggles to obey, “Good, good. Again, in, hold. Out, hold.”
Smaller claw tipped hands wrap around his one finger. A soft coo mixing with the instructions to breathe.
As Din gains control of his breathing and he starts to calm down the pain starts to fade away and with it the taste and smell of death. Finally he manages to focus on the person holding him, “Boba.” He breathes out. He looks around, he is in his room in Boba and Fennec’s house on Tatooine. He is not dying on some ice covered planet betrayed by an old childhood friend.
Grogu is sitting to his side tightly holding onto his left hand. Leaking distress into the Force. Boba helps him sit up in bed while Fennec hovers at his side. “Are you back with us?” Boba asks. Din swallows his throat dry. “Yeah,” he croaks out. He raises a shaking hand to scrub at his eyes. Closing his eyes he tries to centre himself, his head pounding with a Force headache. “The vision was extremely intense.” he murmurs.
Fennec moves away and returns a moment later with a glass of water. Taking it Din nods his thanks before slowly sipping it. When he feels steady enough he places the glass on the bedside table. Feeling calm enough he reaches over and picks up Grogu. He snuggles his son against his chest. “It is alright ad’ika. It is all right. It was just a very strong vision.” he soothes the young child. Grogu narrows his eyes at his buir and pulls his ears down, clear indication that he is not buying what Din is trying to sell.
“I promise I am awake and safe.” Lifting Grogu up so that he can look him in the eyes. “Ha?” the demand comes. “Haat.” He promises. Resting Grogu in the crook of his arm he pulls the blanket over them both. “Now back to dreamland for you. Tomorrow we have a big job.” Din murmurs. Grogu yawns and pulls the edge of the blanket over his head.
With a soft sigh Din turns to look at Boba. He struggles with what to say for a moment. “Your other self. Did he pass on any memories about how his ba’buir died in the other timeline?” he finally asks.
Boba sits back on the bed next to Din, resting a hand on Din’s knee to keep his brother grounded. He frowns as he considers the question. Din knows that Boba does not like trying to access the more personal memories that he had received. The fact that, that Boba’s father had fallen so far as to have himself cloned millions of times and then basically sold what amounted to his children into slavery was against everything it stands to be Mandalorian.
“I do not have a lot of his personal memories, but I do seem to remember that Mereel was betrayed by one of his councilors and that Tor killed him.” Boba’s frown deepens, “but that is supposed to be several years off still.”
Leaning against his pillows, careful not to disturb Grogu, Din looks up at the ceiling letting the Force flow through him as he tries to align the puzzle pieces he has been collecting for years now. “I think the changes we have made are speeding up the timeline.” He clenches his teeth as he feels the Force agree with that statement. “I think my involvement with Jaster is going to force Tor’s hand a lot sooner than last time.”
Humming Boba nods. “Mereel has a far larger following now than in the other timeline.” He turns to look at Fennec, before turning back to Din. “More and more of the traditionally neutral clans are swearing to him.”
“Because of me.” Din states sourly. “Your courting is certainly a factor.” Fennec agrees from where she is leaning against the wall, “but also the fact that our Mereel is far more aggressive in his quest to unite Mandalore.” She raises an eyebrow as both of the men stare at her. “What?” she shrugs, “I have very little of the other Fennec’s personal memories, but she had studied the Mandalorian civil war rather intently in the last few years of her existence and have passed on a lot of that knowledge to me.”
“You couldn’t have mentioned it before?” Din asks sourly. “Eh, it never came up.” She casually waves the question away. “Also I have been tracking changes against what memories I have been given.” Boba frowns, “Has there been a lot of deviations?” he asks. The assassin seems to consider her answer carefully. “Several. The first one is our covert’s survival. The changes echo out from there. Our survival and the destruction of the pirate crew has led to the survival of the whole tribe.” she holds up one finger, “Second is the oath between Calypso and Din. In this reality the Lok Revenants are far larger and stronger than in the other. Also in none of the memories that I have is there ever any mention of Calypso.” she holds up a second finger.
“You think us being alive had some influence on Calypso’s and the Revenants’ lives?” Din asks. Boba hums. “It tracks. She survived the attack on her by Daveron because of you.” he points out.
“She lived because I lived and was in a place to assist her.” Din realises.
Fennec nods, holding up a third finger. “Third does spiral back round to you, but after every interaction between you and Mereel he has made assertive recruiting and political moves.” Boba snorts, “He was showing how capable he was to you even before you realised you fancied him.” He teases. Din rolls his eyes and gestures to Fenn to continue.
“But I have also noted other things every time we have changed significant events there has been a ‘surge’ for lack of a better term in the Force. And that has led to other changes outside of our current reach.” She says. She pulls her braid over her shoulder and starts to fiddle with it. It is one of her few tells that she has when she is nearing a topic she finds difficult to discuss.
“Such as…” Din gently prods her. “Jango’s birth.” She says trying to look anywhere but her husband. Boba pushes off the bed and crosses the room to Fennec, reaching her he pulls her into a hug. “Hi,” he says softly, gently tipping her chin up with a finger. “I am not him, just like you are not her. I have no memories of the man who was his father.” Resting his head against her, “And we will ensure that our Jango never becomes that man.” Fennec wraps an arm around Boba’s shoulder. “I never want to hurt you.” She whispers. “I cannot see a single possibility of you ever hurting me.” Boba replies before he smirks, “Except for when I ask nicely.”
“Oh for kriff sake. Not in front of me.” Din groans. Turning to look back at his brother, Boba’s smirk grows. “I cannot wait to see you all being all flustered around Mereel.” Din scowls and flashes the older man a dirty hand sign. “Get out of my room so that I can try and get some sleep. Tomorrow we will start hunting for Mereel’s traitor.” Boba nods before prodding Fennec out of the room.
When the door closes behind them Din looks down at the sleeping child in his arms. “The ka’ra help me if I ever get as sappy as those two.
Year 944 ARR/ 56 BBY
“Montross, I said we will take the contract but we are not going off half cocked. We will provision properly and establish a proper supply chain and set up a proper base of operations.” Jaster snaps as he strides down the corridor that will take him to his apartment.
“Really Jaster, there is no need for all of this preparation.” Montross huffs as he rushes after the Mand’alor, “It is a simple recovery mission, it hardly qualifies for this level of mission planning.” He waves a hand as if to indicate the scope of everything.
Spinning around Jaster glares at the other man. “We always follow procedure no matter the type of mission.” He snaps. “Yes it is a simple mission, but that does not mean we should throw our standards to the side.” He turns around and starts walking again, “Besides, because of the low threat level of the mission, it was decided that several of the ade that has passed their verd’goten will be taking part in the mission as a training exercise.”
Turning the corner Jaster comes to a halt as he nearly crashes into Arla. The girl has recovered quickly in his care. The Goran be Keldabe had decreed that the year as a captive had been testament to her courage, fortitude and mandokarla and declared that she had passed her verd’goten. Not even two weeks after her rescue and adoption Jaster had offered her her first armour pieces. A pair of vambraces forged from the thigh plate of his mother’s armour. It had been a bonding moment between them and he suspected the first time Arla truly believed him when he said that she was his child and that he will always be there for her.
Arla’s training armour is currently made from treated leather and durasteel. The weight of her armour will slowly be increased over the next several years as she ages and grows. Because it is training armour it is a dull whitish colour with the only splash of colour the Mereel clan aliik on the left side of her chest plate.
“Buir.” Arla greets her parent, before looking over his shoulder at Montross. She dismisses Montross with a flick of her eyes before looking back at her parent. “Baar’ur Gilamar is looking for you.” she says even as she shifts to stand closer to Jaster. He smiles as he reaches out to lightly ruffle her hair. “Arla here will be one of the young verde joining us on this mission.” Jaster beams with pride, “With her training scores she will be acting as Myles second.”
“Will you be dragging the crying ik’aad with us as well?” Montross sneers. Jaster whips his head around to glare at Montross. “What the haram?!” he demands from his second in command. “Jango is hardly an ik’aad and yes I will be taking both my children with me on this mission!” he snaps at Montross. When it looks like Montross is going to say something Jaster just holds up a hand. “No, just no.” He commands. “I don’t know what your problem is, Montross, but I am not dealing with it now.” He gently pulls Arla slightly behind him, shifting his body so that she is more protected by his bulk.
Pointing down the hallway that they have just come down. “Take a walk and clear your head. We will leave for Korda-Six in three days’ time as stated in the briefing.” Jaster orders. He watches as Montross glares at Arla before spinning around and storming off.
“He does not like me or Jango.” Arla states so quietly that Jaster has to strain to hear her. Sighing Jaster pulls the girl into his side in a half-hug. “He has never been fond of children, but he is acting quite irrational lately.” he half agrees. “I don’t trust him.” his daughter says in response. Looking down into her large brown eyes, Jaster frowns. “Is there a specific reason?” he asks.
Arla half shrugs, “It just…” She trails off. Turning to face her fully, Jaster goes down to one knee in front of her, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You can tell me anything ner ad.” He promises. Arla swallows. “Nym said…” She trails off again. Jaster waits patiently. “When Nym met him she told her uncle that Montross was full of darkness and he made her feel cold.” the words rushes out of her.
Jaster takes a deep breath. “Okay, okay.” He says rapidly coming up and discarding ideas. “How about this,” he finally continues, “We go and find Mij and hear what he wants, then we go and collect your vod from the daycare and after late meal we comm call Din and ask him what Nym meant?” He looks at the young girl who has wiggled as deep into his heart as her brother has.
Arla considers it for a moment before nodding. “Can we get uj’alayi for dessert?” She asks. Jaster nearly cheers. In the several months that she has been with him, she has never asked for anything for herself. “Of course Arl’ika.” He agrees. Getting back onto his feet he holds his hand out towards her. “Now let’s go and hear what Mij wants.” Taking his hand Arla smiles up at him.
Year 944 ARR/ 56 BBY
Din signs off from the call with Jaster, the taste of blood and phantom pain in his side distracting him. His room is overlaid with cold ice covered trees in the distance and blood churned mud at his feet. “Boo?” Grogu’s question drags him back to the present. He takes a deep breath, holds it for a count before slowly exhaling, centring himself in the here and now. Turning he picks up his son from where he is sitting on the bed playing with a shape puzzle that Nava had given him the last time they were on Nevarro.
“Hey ad’ika, how do you feel about a special mission?” Din asks. Grogu tilts his head to the side and blinks slowly. “Ah?” he asks with a frown. Nodding Din gets up from the bed, “Yeah a mission to find a aruetii.” Din can sense Grogu’s interest in the Force. “There is a traitor in the Haat’ade and they are a danger to Jaster.” he explains. Grogu’s ears flick up and in the Force he projects a feeling of warmth and joy all mixed with a question.
Din nods, “Yes, Jaster makes me feel like ba’vodu Fenn makes Boba feel.” He enhances the concept with thoughts of hunting with another being, someone guarding your back, the feeling of safety you get with an equal partner.
Narrowing his eyes up at his father Grogu sends an image of Din’s vision from several weeks before, of dying in the cold betrayed by someone trusted. “Oh Grogu,” Din whispers, hugging the small child to his chest. “I never meant for you to see that, little one.”
“Patoo.” Grogu snaps pushing back from his father’s chest to glare up at him. Din smiles down at the adorably fierce child in his arms. “I know how strong you are, kid, but it is still my job to protect you. Let you enjoy your childhood.” he feels a smile pull at his lips, “But because you are so strong you are going along on this hunt.” He states. Grogu’s ears immediately shoot up. “Haa?!” he demands. “Haat,” Din agrees. “Now lets go and get some more vode to help with this hunt.” he says as they head toward the door of the Razor Crest.
As so many times in the last four years Jon Antilles finds himself back on Tatooine and at the Krayt’s Lair cantina. One of his partners is sitting next to him cleaning her blaster, and though she has muted her vocoder he can still hear faint humming coming from her. Their third partner was currently across the room talking with Fett about what bounties are available for them. Jon slumps a bit deeper into the chair. He is more than willing to admit that he has never been so content in his life as the last two years. It is even as though the Force is also content with him being content. He still gets pulled by the Force on odd missions, but now more often than not he returns from them uninjured.
Looking back he still finds it amazing how much more rooted in the Force he is now than before. Even with his ‘attachments’ in the form of not one but two spouses. Just as he allows his eyes to slip close as he basks in the warm glow of the Force, a cold shiver runs down his spine forcing him to sit up straight. His hand automatically drops to his side where his lightsaber is hanging. “Jon?” His partner asks immediately, clocking that something has changed. Neither of his partners are Force sensitive, but somehow they always pick up on his cues.
“Something is going to happen.” Jon says even as he scans the room. Assembling her blaster with quick and sure motions she also scans the room, “Here or do we need to go somewhere?” she asks getting to her feet. “I am not su…” Jon starts only to trail off as the silver Mandalorian he had helped all those years ago enters the cantina. He looks around for a second before heading straight for Jon. Next to him his partner tenses but she respectfully nods her head to Mando. It still fascinates Jon the amount of respect and almost reverence that all the Tribal Mandalorians have for the man.
“Antilles.” the man greets as he draws level with their table. “Mudhorn.” Jon returns. Looking down at the small child being carried in a satchel at his fathers side, “Grogu.” he greets both aloud and in the Force. “Suu” the child returns.
“How good are you at battlefield Force healing?” the man abruptly asks. Jon considers carefully how to answer. “Better at stabilising a patient than true healing. But far more efficient than a non Force user medic” he answers truthfully. He watches the man take that into consideration. “You have felt the shift?” He asks.
This makes Jon pause, this is the very first time he has acknowledged Jon status as a Jedi or admitted to his own sensitivity. Next to him his partner drops her hand to the blaster still in its holster while she shifts the blaster in her other hand to a more battle ready hold.
“Yes.” Jon answers simply. Mando seems to relax slightly at that. By now they have been joined by Fett and Jon’s other partner. In fact several mandalorians have moved closer. “I have had a vision of the Mand’alor being betrayed and killed.” The warrior states, clear enough for everybody close to them to hear. That causes an uneasy shift among the crowd.
That brings Jon up short. “The Jedi Council do not believe that any credence should be given to visions as the future is always in motion.” he says, it is clear that the statement is not well received by the mandos standing around them. The Mudhorn nods, “And what do you believe?” He asks. Jon pushes to his feet, “That neither the Force nor the Manda would have given any of their children a vision if it is something to be ignored.” The approval of the crowd is almost overwhelming.
“I leave for Korda-Six in five hours. Will you join me?” he asks. Jon closes his eyes and opens himself fully to the Force, listening to the flow of it. “Yes, but we will need more.” Jon states as he opens his eyes. The hunter nods, turning to look at his brother, “If we do not interfere, almost all of the high ranking Haat’ade will be slaughtered in the ambush on Korda-Six.”
Fett tilts his head to the side in a listening mode. Jon can feel how the Force bends around the man as he himself seeks answers. “We cannot warn any of them, because that will tip off the traitor and they will simply retreat to plot for another day.” The Jedi can clearly feel the truth of the statement in the Force.
Looking over the crowd Jon realises that he is the only non mandalorian in the room. Mudhorn straightens. “Who will join me?” He asks. Jon cannot hear the communication taking place on the internal helmet comms, but he can clearly feel it. About ten mandalorians step forward. Laara Skirata is the one to speak up, gesturing to the nine standing with her, “We will and there are another fifteen not currently in the cantina that will join.”
Fett places a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “We will of course also join you.” Jon watches as he motions V’enna to join them. “I will leave the guild hall in V’enna’s hands while we are away,” he announced.
“We leave in five hours, make sure that you are fully equipped. Pack cold weather gear. And make sure you are stocked up on ammo.” Mudhorn states. He turns back to Jon, “I have space on my ship for the three of you.” he offers. Jon looks over at his two partners, they both nod their acceptance. “Thank you. We will join you in four hours.” He says as he turns to leave with his partners to gather their gear.
Year 944 ARR/ 56 BBY
Din carefully maneuvers his ship out of hyperspace. He, Boba and several of the hunters had plotted their course carefully to bring them out of hyperspace on the dark side of Korda-Six’s furthest moon, so as not to alert anyone of their presence. He frowns when he almost immediately spots a bright red naboo starfighter with very familiar decals drifting in the shadow of the moon. Jon, who is sitting in the co-pilots seat, radiates surprise. “Isn’t that Calypso’s starfighter?” the jetii asks.
Pursing his lips Din reaches out into the Force, the pilot of the ship reaches back immediately, causing Din to sigh deeply. He leans forward and activates the comm. “What are you doing here Paz?” he asks annoyed.
“You’re late and if you think I am letting you go ahead and spring a Death Watch trap on your own you are delusional.” The reply instantly comes. Closing his eyes Din counts to ten before counting backwards to one again. “I am hardly on my own.” He just states even as he slowly turns his ship to make it easier for Paz to dock onto the top of his ship. “Do be careful of the paint.” He warns Paz as the heavy infantry guard starts the process of connecting the starfighter to the Razor Crest. “Your rusted bucket of bolts does not have any paint to scratch.” the snide reply comes.
“I am pretty sure he is talking about Calypso’s ship’s paint.” Boba’s voice joins the conversation. There is a moment of quiet before a slight bump runs through the Razor Crest. “I am not going to scratch any ship’s paint.” Paz answers, his voice taking on an offended tone. Din waits as Paz disconnects and a few moments later he hears him drop down into the ship. His heavy armour reverberating through the ship. He listens as Paz greets the two hunters that are sitting in the back before he heads to the cockpit.
“Jetti.” Paz greets as he climbs in. “Vizsla.” Jon returns with a bow of his head. “Djarin.” Paz finally acknowledges Din. Din merely cocks his head and silently stares at his childhood friend. “Oh, stop looking at me that way.” The large blue armoured guard snaps. He holds out a data stick. “I managed to do several scans of the planet without being detected.” There is a short stare off between the two before Din leans over and takes the data stick from Paz. Turning back to his instruments, he uploads the data and sends it to the other six ships in their small fleet. Quickly the other ship connects to the call. “Has everybody received the scans?” he ask instead of replying to Paz. The older mandalorian snorts even as he leans on the back of Din’s chair.
“The Haat’Ade carrier is on the opposite side of the planet in a fixed orbit above their ground camp.” Paz starts to summarise the data. “From what I could pick up they have about a hundred verd on the ground, but chatter indicates that at least twenty are verd’ika on their first mission.” There are several curses muttered as the rest of the group take in that information. “I have clocked three camps that I believe are Kyr’tsad. From my scans it appears as if there are about twenty to twenty-five in each camp.”
“Mmm, that should be an even fight between the Haat’ade and Kyr’tsad.” Laara says. “It should be if not for the fact that they have armed the kordians with advanced weaponry and I have picked up radiation from ion cannons.” Paz answers. “In my last run Chip managed to connect to Atin. Mereel’s plan is to split into three groups. One led by him, a second led by one of his lieutenants, a kid named Myles with Mereel’s oldest kid as his second and the third group led by Montross. The mission is to rescue three different groups of the Korda Defence Force that has been stranded on the planet by the kordians.”
“An apparently easy mission, which is likely why Mereel brought the verd’ika along. And decided to make camp on the planet.” Boba murmurs. “Truthfully with the information that he has I would have most likely have done the same in his position. Give the young ones some experience in a relatively safe environment, with an easy mission.”
“Do we know when they plan to start the rescue search?” Laara asks into the silence that comes after Boba’s statement. “They plan to head out at sunrise.” Paz replies. “You are cutting it very close.” Checking the planet’s rotation and where the True Mandalorians camp is located, Din clears his throat. “That was about twenty minutes ago.” More muttered curses can be heard on the comms. “Boba can you and Fenn head to their carrier and inform whoever is in charge that it is an ambush.” He checks the data again. “Laara you head for the ground camp and get them ready to evacuate.” He instructs. “Arna, I want you to take the largest group and go after the verd’ika. Get them to safety as quickly as possible.” He waits for her to acknowledge his instruction. “We will go and inform Montross’s group.” One of the Ja’hai’ade speaks up. “I will go after Mereel’s group.” Din concludes.
“Okay everyone, let’s hunt!” Din concludes. Several shouts of Oya! follows as the rest breaks off to head towards their targets.
****
Jaster curses and ducks behind a boulder as multiple shots fire in his direction. “Kal come in damn it!” He barks into his comm. “Skirata!” cursing when all he gets is static he tries the other channels. “Ordo come in.” the static is loud in his ear. “Myles, report!” for a moment only more static answers him and then, “Buir!” Arla’s voice cuts through the static. “Arla.” He breathes out, one of the tight bands in his chest unclenching at the voice of his eldest. “Buir Myles is injured.” Arla sounds scared but at the same time not panicking.
Jaster leans around his boulder so shoot one of the kordians that is shooting at him and his squad. The being goes down but another immediately takes its place. “How many of you are injured?” he asks even as he indicates to Bes Fenn to take some of their group circle the kordians shooting at them. “Five including Myles.” the answer comes almost instantly. “We have barracked ourselves in a shallow cave. So we are secure for the moment.” While Arla sounds scared she is applying her training and staying level headed. Jaster takes a deep steadying breath. “Okay stay where you are. We will come to you. If we pin them between us, we will have them eliminated quickly.” he instructs his daughter. “’Lek buir.” Arla answers before signing off.
Jaster signals to the verd to his left before he jumps to the right shooting all the way. He takes down three before he is hit in the shoulder. Although the blow knocks him to the ground his armour deflect the worst of the blow. He will have a nasty bruise but luckily not anything more serious. Rolling to his feet he runs for the next boulder sliding in behind it he takes a moment to shoot one of the kordians that is trying to sneak around the boulder. “Montross,” He shouts into his comm. “Jaster, we are taking heavy fire.” The reply comes instantly. “Pull back two kilometres towards base. We will rendezvous with you there to extract the verd’ika. They are completely pinned.” Jaster instructs breathing heavily.
“No, we can take this group out now.” Montross responds before cutting the contact. “Montross! Montross!” Jaster shouts before cursing loudly. There is a large explosion and the shooting halts. Lar Ordo slides in next to him. “Alor we have neutralised this group but we are picking up more coming from the same direction.” the young warrior reports. Jaster nods, “Fall back,” He instructs, “We will meet up with T’ad company and then retrieve Ehn company. They are currently pinned in a cave.” Lars nods and signals to the rest to follow. Jaster waits as the group passes him, taking note of all the injuries. Two are limping and one has to be supported by two of the warriors.
He joins Bes at the rear. “This was a setup.” The young altiri says as he notices the Mand’alor. “Yes it is.” Jaster agrees. The younger man hesitates for a moment. “Do you think Death Watch is behind this?” he asks. The black armoured leader of the mandalorians is silent for a moment before he nods. “This does seem like something Tor would do, yes.” He answers. They jog in silence for a few moments before the sound of jetpacks can be heard. Jaster spares a moment to look backwards towards the sound and starts cursing. “Kyr’tsad!” He shouts. His team scatters in between the boulders on both sides of the narrow trail.
Jaster is cursing mentally. Scanning the air he can see at least fifteen Death Watch members flying in. His team is only ten men strong while Montross’s team is fifteen, the largest group is Ehn company but although they have five fully trained verde the rest are twenty younglings between the ages of thirteen and fifteen. “We are too far from base camp to make it on our own; we need to meet up with Montross.” Jaster orders. He waits until he gets confirmation from every member of his team before they split up into pairings of two. Heading over the ridge dodging the incoming fire from the Death Watch members overhead.
He desperately wants to check in with Arla but running and dodging and shooting back is taking all of his concentration. He curses himself for not wearing his sen’tra. None in his group is, which is really a large lack of oversight. As he clears the ridge he sees Montross standing on a hill across a small valley. Cursing the man Jaster indicates to Bes to hold to his current position, while Jaster makes a run across the open space. There is a stitch in his side as crest the top of the hill and comes to a stop next to Montross. He freezes when he sees what is in the valley below.
There standing next to an Ion cannon is Tor Vizsla and several members of Death watch and the kordians. All armed with heavy artillery. Across the side of the hill lies Montross’s team scattered like broken dolls. Jaster turns to his childhood friend the horror of what is happening dawning on him. “Montross, what have you done?” He demands his voice hoarse.
“What needed to be done.” Montross sneers. “You have become weak Jaster.” the man continues. “We need a strong leader, one that will lead us to glory.” Jaster takes a step back. “And you think that is Tor Vizsla?” He demands. Montross laughs. “I will take control of the Haat’Mando’ade and lead us all to glory!” He shouts. Before Jaster can take another step, Montross shoots him in the leg right in the uncovered spot between his thigh plate and knee guard. As his leg gives way Montross shoots him two more times in the side. Both shots hit their marks in the small opening between his breastplate and backplate. Montross has always been a great shot. “I leave you for Tor as he has made it clear that he is the one to finish you off.” Montross sneers as he activates his jetpack. “Don’t worry about your brats, Mereel. I will make sure they join you soon.”
That forces Jaster to turn from where he is laying on the ground to look at Tor below with the ion cannon slowly powering up. He closes his eyes. He cannot believe that this is how he dies. How his children will die. For a moment the Drums of the Manda is silent and all he can hear is the ion cannon and Montross’s jetpack. He opens his eyes just to see the cannon reach full power and firing a blast straight at him. He lifts his head, he will not die cowering.
For a moment all seems frozen and then there is a flash of silver in front of him and with the flash the Drums of the Manda roar through his head. The blast of the cannon is somehow knocked to the side. And there standing in front of him like a figure out of the old tales is his hunter. He stands tall, in one hand he loosely holds a beskar spear the other stretched out before him. Before anyone can react he spins and throws the spear piercing Montross’s Ka’rta beskar killing him instantly. Jaster watches as his former friend’s body tumbles out of the air to the ground. Turning back to Jaster, Din rips the satchel he is carrying over his head and drops it down next to Jaster. “Jon, I need you here now!” He shouts before spinning around and rushing down the hill to where a shocked Tor Vizsla is still standing next to the cannon.
Before Jaster can say anything a soft coo comes from the satchel and two large green ears pop out of the bag. “Grogu?” He breathes, before he starts to cough. He can taste blood and grimace. At least one of Montross’s shots managed to hit something vital. A tall man with black hair and a scar running across his face drops down to his knees next to the bag and Grogu. “Mand’alor.” The man greets even as he starts to pull at Jaster’s armour. “I am really sorry for how much this is going to hurt but we need to stabilize you for evacuation.”
Jaster can only nod. Suddenly there are shouts and more Mando’ade are on the field engaging the kordians and Death Watch alike. The man, who Jaster presumes is called Jon, manages to get his armour open enough so that he has access to the wound in his side. He reaches over and places a hand on the top wound, for a second nothing happens and then fire spreads through the wound. It feels like someone has pushed a hot poker into the blaster shot. It takes everything in Jaster not to scream in pain. There is another coo and a much smaller hand joins that of the man and the pain ebbs and then flows out of him. “Oh well done Grogu.” Jon praises the young child.
Jaster is still trying to catch his breath when he and Jon are bracketed by two unknown warriors. “He is stable but we need to get him to medics immediately.” Jon is saying to them. One of the beings must have said something because suddenly Jon is shaking his head. “No, take him straight to the carrier he needs to go into a bacta tank as soon as possible.” Jaster realises that he is slipping in and out of consciousness. He can feel himself being manoeuvred onto a stretcher. Grogu clambering up onto it with him and settles into his side. “Hi ad’ika this is not how I thought we would meet.” Jaster whispers softly. It seems his strength is failing. The young child pulls back his ears before patting Jaster’s hand where it lays on his chest.
As he is lifted he can see Montross laying to the side, spear still piercing his heart, before he can give any instructions the black haired man leans over and places a hand on his chest. “Rest now Mand’alor, rest.” Strangely the Drums of the Manda seem to agree as they pull him into darkness.
****
Jaster comes too slowly. He can hear people moving around and talking but they are speaking too softly for him to make out what they are saying. He groans as he tries to lift his arm to rub at his eyes. His whole body feels heavy. He finally manages to crack one eye open only to slam it shut with a pained whimper. “Dim the lights.” He hears Mij instruct someone. “Mand’alor?” The doctor asks as he leans slightly over Jaster. “Blue,” Jaster half croaks half whispers. “Jaster?” Mij asks again, fiddling with some of the settings on the med-bed Jaster is laying on. “Everything tastes blue.” Jaster finally gets out.
Mij huffs and moves away for a moment only to return with a glass filled with water and a straw. “That would be because you spent the last several hours in a bacta tank.” He carefully holds the straw to Jaster’s lips letting the man slowly sip the cool water. After only a handful of sips he takes the glass away. Jaster sinks back into the pillow below his head before shooting up straight again. “Arla!” He shouts, looking around for his daughter. “Udesii, Mand’alor, udesii. She is safe.” Mij promises as he gently pushes the injured man down again. “Both your ade are currently resting as you should be.”
“Nayc.” Jaster pushes against Mij. “Call Skirata and Ordo, I need to debrief on what the fuck has happened.” He growls out, struggling to sit back up again. Mij takes a step back and places his hands on his hips glaring at his leader. “You were shot in the side, your lung collapsed and the only reason you are not dead is because a jetii used some sort of magic osik to keep you stable until we could get you into a bacta tank.” That causes Jaster to freeze for a second. He brings a shaky hand up to his face and tiredly rubs at his eyes.
“Please Mij, we need to contain this. Who knows what other sabotage and damage Montross has done.” He pleads his case. Mij continues to glare at his leader, hands still on his hips, but Jaster can see a small crack in his resolve. “I promise I will stay right here in this bed and I will rest after I have spoken to Beck and Kal.” He tries to smile disarmingly at the doctor. With a huff Mij throws his hands up in the air. “I am keeping you to that promise.” He snaps before he turns to head out of the room.
Laying back down, Jaster closes his eyes and tries to parse through the memories of what has happened. Things are a bit disconnected after he got shot by Montross, but he is one hundred percent certain that Din was there with others. He opens his eyes when he hears movement at the door. It is his friends and lieutenants. Kal enters first followed by Beck. At Jaster’s indication Beck closes the door. “So what the hell has just happened?” Jaster asks, his voice dry and angry.
“It seems that Montross has been a traitor for several years.” Kal tiredly states as he pulls a chair closer to Jaster’s bed and more collapses into it than sitting down. Jaster scrubs at his face, tired, angry and more than anything disappointed at himself. How did he not see this? How did he let this threat to his people into their inner circle?
Beck slowly lifts himself onto the bed across from Jaster. “We are going through all of his stuff to see how and when he sold us out to Tor.” The three of them sit in silence, before Beck sighs. “This would have been bad if not for your hunter.” he states his voice carrying an odd tone of fear and relief.
“What… what happened?” Jaster asks, He leans to the side to fiddle with the bed to get it into a sitting position. Kal shifts forward and knocks his hands away, slowly moving the bed into a slight incline. Not as much as Jaster would have liked but better than laying flat on his back.
“We knew something was wrong the moment we lost contact with all three of your squads.” Kal answers, he looks tired, there are dark rings under his eyes and there appears to be a bruise on the side of his head. “Just as I was about to order the back-up squads to head out and re-establish contact with you we were attacked. They had seriously heavy artillery. We were pinned down and were slowly losing ground when out of literal nowhere, my ba’vode’ad Laara showed up with three gunships. And about five of the absolute meanest assholes I have ever encountered and I work with you lot.”
Jaster huffs at that last bit. “I hope you include yourself in that number.” he pokes back at his friend. “Anyway,” Kal continues ignoring Jaster’s comment, “Between the ships taking out the cannons and several of the invaders the rest of us could rally and take out the rest of the attackers. When Laara landed she informed me that it was a trap and that we needed to evacuate to the carrier immediately.” Kal shook his head, “Like I was going to leave you alone on the planet. That is when I was informed that they had already had extraction teams on the ground to get all of you out.” He swallowed thickly, “I was not going to leave without you or any of our verde. I ordered the evacuation but stayed on the ground until Bes contacted me and informed me that you and the rest of the teams had been evacuated.” He leans forward pressing his head into Jaster’s leg. “I thought we had lost you. And that it was my fault.” He whispers, his eyes closed in guilt.
“Kal, no.” Jaster says, as he leans forward resting his hand on the back of his friend’s neck. “You did nothing wrong.” He looks over at Beck. “None of you did. None of us realised that we had an aruetii in our midst.” He softly squeezes his friend’s neck. “How many did we lose?” He asks dreading the answer but needing to know.
It is Beck who answers. “Most of the ground teams are wounded with several in critical condition.” He closes his eyes before slowly opening them again, as if hoping he can blink the last few hours away. “Remarkably there have been only six fatalities.”
Jaster whips his head around to stare at his other friend. The man’s normally rich dark skin tone has taken on an ashen grey colour, clearly indicating that he was just as tired and run down as Kal. “Val Keer, Jess and James Rook, Ygo Cast, Cem Vaarle and Ran Beeko.” Jaster closes his eyes, six lives needlessly lost due to one man’s dishonourable actions. “Nu kyr’adyc, shi taab’echaaj’la” he murmurs, anger and grief burning fiercely in his chest. “Their bodies?” he finally asks, when it feels like he can speak again.
“Brought back with the evacuation teams.” Kal answers before Beck can speak up. “Okay, that is good. We will need to inform their families, before they can hear the news from anyone else.” Jaster states before he indicates that they need to continue.
Beck clears his throat, “I was made aware of what was happening when Boba Fett and his riduur hailed us and asked to come abort. They informed us that they had come into information about the fact that this mission was an ambush and that we need to evacuate the ground teams and prepare for injured.” Beck sighs deeply. He leans forward resting his elbows on his thighs letting his hands dangle. “I did not believe them at first, but then we got Kal’s message and then we had incoming ships carrying injured and then you…” He trails off, staring blankly at the ground. “It could have been so much worse.” He looks up at Jaster, “We almost lost you.” He sits up straight and angrily rubs at his eyes.
Jaster leans back and considers everything he has learned so far. “Did they give any indication of where they got the information that this was a trap from?” He asks, already thinking of who or what could be the source and how they could exploit it.
“Yeah so apparently our ven’rid’alor is a seer.” Beck states so matter of factly that Jaster is completely certain that he misheard. “What now?” He demands looking between Kal and Beck. Kal sits back up again and nods, “The tooka is well and truly out of the bag.” He says. “There is video footage doing the rounds of how he deflected an ion cannon blast with his bare hands and then crumpled said same cannon like a piece of flimsy all the while shooting down your attackers.”
Jaster feels his eyes bulging out of his head. “He did what!?” and no he did not screech. He is the Mand’alor damn it and Mand’alors do not screech. Beck huffs out a laugh, “Half of the verde is trailing behind him like love sick strill pups.” Jaster can only groan, “And the other half?” He asks, sort of dreading the answer. It is Kal who answers, “They are sulking because it is quite clear that he is besotted with you.”
They lapse into silence before, “Wait Mij said something about a jetii?” Jaster demands suddenly. “Oh Manda, that and Paz Vizsla is another headache I really don’t want to consider right now.” Beck groans out, flopping down on the bed. Jaster feels like his head is going to fall off from all the shocks he is picking up. “What do you mean Paz Vizsla?” he grinds out between clenched teeth.
“Paz Vizsla is currently onboard and standing guard over your ven’riduur and ade while they rest.” Beck mumbles out from where he has pulled a pillow over his head. Jaster turns to look at Kal hoping to get a clearer answer. “So apparently whatever Din has done with the cannon was quite exhausting and he needs to rest. Since you were in the bacta tank and both your ade were in distress Vizsla decided that since you and his tribesman are courting that your ade falls under his protection as well. He bundled them all into your quarters, made sure they had food and then stationed himself in front of the door and settled there like an unmovable statue.”
Jaster can feel himself frowning. Kal notices and clarifies. “So we were all a bit freaked out until one of the Children of the watch explained. Vizsla is a tribal cabur, one of their Tribe’s most skilled protectors.” The dark haired man tilts his head to the side and frowns. “It is evidently one of the most important roles in the Tribes and the training that their cabur receives is extensive. It is at a level with the ori’ramikad if not even more intense.” That causes Jaster to purse his lips in thought, he really needs to talk with Din more about the tribes and how their structures differ from the Houses.
Beck suddenly giggles, drawing both of their attention back to him. “That and the fact that Bes let it slip that he is married to the pirate Captain Calypso has given him quite the reputation. All of the younger verde are trying to sneak a look.” His voice is still muffled by the pillow he is trying to smother himself with. “At first most of the verde were up in arms about a Vizsla being on board, but then Din showed up and handed Arla and his ad over to Vizsla and ordered him to guard them.” He sighs before pulling the pillow off his face and sitting upright. “That was apparently enough for most of the verde to conclude that this Vizsla is trustworthy. As for the jetii. He and his ridure retreated to Din’s ship and locked it down.” He clutches the pillow to his chest leaning onto it.
“I was not aware that jetii are allowed to get married.” Jaster says, stunned. Before either one of his friends can answer Mij comes bustling back into the room. “All right that’s it. Beck, Kal, both of you are now off duty for medical reasons. You will go straight to your cabins and sleep for at least seven hours.” He holds up a hand. “No this is not up for discussion. You. Need. Sleep.” He punctuates every word. He looks over at Jaster. “If you promise to behave you can join your aliit in your cabin to continue resting.”
Jaster feels like his head is going to fall off so hard he is nodding. His children are in his cabin and he would not be able to rest without seeing that they are safe with his own eyes. “Well then, Mand’alor lets get you dressed in something less revealing and get you to your own bed.” the doctor says, stepping forward.
****
Jaster comes to a halt several steps from the door to his cabin, leaning heavily on Mij who is helping him walk back to his rooms. He had flat out refused to use the hover chair that the doctor had wanted him to use. His people need to see him on his own two feet moving about. On the short walk several of the soldiers had stopped and saluted him, more had peeked out of doorways. All in an effort to reassure themselves that their leader had survived the ambush.
Leaning against the door with his arms crossed across his chest is a fully armoured Paz Vizsla. Still painted in his shades of blue with gold vengeance on his aliik and his riduur’s signature red on his right vambrace. He is doing a very good job of ignoring the verde that is pretending to have business in this part of the ship to sneak a peek. Standing guard across from him are two of Jaster’s private hunting squad. Something in Jaster’s chest loosens.
Jaster knows that he has been spotted long before they come to a halt. Vizsla pushes himself off from where he is leaning against the door. With his left fist on his Ka’rta beskar he bows his head. “Mand’alor.” he looks over to Mij, “Baar’ur?” He questions, Jaster is unsure what passes between Mij and Vizsla because he then shifts and indicates to one of ori’ramikad. “Retrieve some food for the Mand’alor.” His tone is one that indicates that he expects instant obedience. The warrior hesitates for only a minute before nodding and heading down the hallway.
“Do you ever take that tone with your wife?” Jaster asks as he shuffles his way to the door. Paz snorts, “Nobody takes that tone with Calypso, not even her father.” The answer comes even as Paz triggers the bell on the door. It slowly opens and Jaster can see that the lights are dimmed inside, not dark but far lower that he would have it normally. “I have settled all three ade in a karyai style bed in the second bedroom. They have eaten and washed. Arla was seen by the medic when we came aboard and she is only suffering from light bruises across her shoulder.” He moves so that while Jaster can easily enter the room nobody can get a clear look in. The cabur lowers his voice so that only Jaster can hear. “Din is currently resting in your room.”
Jaster nods thankful for the information. He steps through the doorway into his stateroom. He waits for the door to slide close before making his way slowly across the room towards the second bedroom where his children and apparently Grogu are sleeping. He makes it as far as the couch before he feels his knees start to buckle. Before he can hit the ground a strong arm wraps around his waist pulling him upright before shifting him to sit on the couch. He is fascinated by the shape and colour of the hands settling him down. Looking up, his breath catches in his chest. He is looking into rich brown eyes. “Mesh’la ner beroya.” He breathes out before what he is seeing finally register. “Din no.” He tries to look frantically around. “Where is your helmet?” He demands.
A soft touch on his cheek stills and calms him down. Din settles on his knees in front of where Jaster is slumped into the couch. “I am not Ja’hai’ade, Cyare.” He smiles softly. Jaster can only watch in captivation as the lines at his eyes crinkle with the smile. He has a thin scraggly moustache and beard and soft brown curly hair. “While we do not normally share our faces with those who are not tribe or aliit, we are not truly creed bound.” Jaster leans into the warm touch. “And we are courting, you have proven time and time again how honourable you are. I know that I can trust you.”
The Drums of the Manda beats true and for the first time since he has started hearing them there is a second note almost like a bes’bev weaving in and out of the drums melody. “Can you stay this time?” He asks, knowing that whatever the answer he will accept it but at the same time hoping desperately that Din will stay. “For now.” Din replies as he shifts his hand from where it is cupping Jaster’s cheek to rest on the back of his neck. He shifts rising up on his knees while gently pulling the Mand’alor in for a mirshmure’cya. For a wonderful moment they simply breathe each other’s air.
Jaster allows himself to lean into Din’s strength and warmth. “I was supposed to die today.” He states it clearly. A known fact. “In another life and time you did.” Din agrees.
“We have a lot to talk about.” Jaster murmurs before slowly pulling away. The pain in his side starting to flare up. Din settles back on his heels. “That we do, but now, now we will have time.” He answers looking up at Jaster with shining eyes as if he could believe that he was here.
“Time,” Jaster agrees, he has time, time to raise his family, time to court his hunter, time to unite the clans and raise Mandalore up to greatness again. “Together?” He asks his hunter. Din’s smile is like the rising sun on a cold winter’s day. “Together,” he agrees and around them the drums of the Manda play a victory beat.
Epilogue
Year 944 ARR/ 56 BBY
On Muunilinst a being pauses in his conversation with his apprentice. Something has shifted. He dismisses his student with a wave of his hand and disconnects the call. Changed, something has changed, but what he wonders.
****
In the hold of a slaver ship travelling to Nul Hatta a young girl wakes up. And she knows her fate has been irrevocably altered. She will die young, far younger than she would have. She does not know how she knows. Only that she does. As a tear rolls down her cheek she feels something like drums beating in her chest offering her comfort and a promise that her sacrifice will not be in vain.
****
Across the galaxy in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, a young padawan cries out in pain and collapses when a massive shatter point bursts across the galaxy.
In the same temple crèche a small red haired boy shifts and finally settles peacefully in his sleep. His dream of the temple burning morphing into a dream about a silver armoured being showing him how to hold a blaster.
****
The rolling wave of the Force wakes Jedi Mater Yaddle from a deep sleep to the victory song of War Drums. She reaches out into the force checking on her still living padawans and then into the net that ties her to her Mandalorian family. The Force is slightly brighter and more hopeful. There is still much to do to find and defeat the Sith, but whatever has happened has shifted the course slightly more to the light.
“Tarre?” She asks as she sits up in her bed. The ghost of the Mandalorian Jedi fades into view. “One of the anchor points has snapped.” He answers. She takes a deep breath, “Korda-Six?” She states more than asks. Tarre Vizsla hums his agreement. “Mereel?” She demands as she gets out of bed.
“Injured but alive,” The ghost answers as he drifts after her. “Kyr’tsad?” she asks as she gets to her desks and starts searching through the data pads cluttering its surface. “Dealt a significant blow, but Tor still lives.” Yaddle pulls a face at that. “A head of time this was.” She notes as she finds the pad she was looking for. She taps a finger on the date she has circled there. Tarre hums as he seems to shift in the light spectrum going from nearly solid to so wispy that he is barely visible. “With each divergence of the anchor points the Force is able to use the wave to shift some things, either earlier or delaying others.”
Looking up from the pad that holds what she was allowed to remember from the other timeline, “Far from won we has.” She states with certainty. Vizsla nods his head. “Yes this is only the beginning.” he agrees.
“Long battle ahead still waits.” Yaddle whispers to herself. “A very long battle.” Tarre confirms before fading from view.
Thirty-seven years. They still have thirty-seven years till the fall of the republic and the rise of the empire. A long battle indeed.
