Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

A/N: I am no Star Wars expert, so you’ll have to forgive me if I get things wrong. I’m completely guessing at ages, time lines, and other such things.

Also, I have no idea what certain people look like, so I just made it up.

Chapter 1: Help

Obi-Wan-

Master Qui-Gon was dead.

On the planet Naboo, deep within the power generator, Obi-Wan sat on the floor and cradled his Master’s body. The body was cooling. There was blood... blood everywhere. He couldn’t feel Master Qui-Gon anymore, the particular warmth that all living things exuded in the Force, was gone. As a Force Sensitive, Obi-Wan could sense emotions from people, but the body on his lap was silent... still... empty.

‘Help.’

Obi-Wan’s head hurt. That special bond he’d shared with his Master was just... gone. It was gone and Obi-Wan was alone in his head for the first time in so many years and he was alone. Alone!

‘Help. Please.’

Obi-Wan pulled Master Qui-Gon a little closer, his grip tightening, and it really was silly because Master Qui-Gon was one with the Force. The body was nothing but crude matter, it was unimportant. He knew that. He and all the other younglings at the Temple had learned that lesson since their earliest days. Those who died became one with the Force. Death wasn’t an end, it was a change. Obi-Wan hunched a little over the body in his arms, as if he thought he might protect it somehow, but that was wrong. It was wrong and stunk of attachment. He wasn’t attached. He could let go and it was time to let Master Qui-Gon go. He had other responsibilities to look after.

His face was wet. Crying. He was crying.

‘Please, help!’ His thoughts rang through his head like terrible screams and it seemed his own thoughts might deafen him. ‘Someone help me!’

And his mind reached out, searching ... wanting... needing help so viciously that it seemed his mind might have his exploded. All his shields, so diligently constructed over the years fell so spectacularly that he was at once dizzy as the whole of EVERYTHING seemed to swamp him. There was pain and joy, wounded Naboo fighters, grief for those who hadn’t survived, joy that the battle was over, worry of what would happen next. The Force reeked of battle and pain and anger and hate from all sides. Beyond all that, far off, he felt a familiar, a dim, touch of the Force that, when Obi-Wan’s mind reached out, crying for help, it reached back.

That touch of the Force was strong and soft and worried and angry and familiar and ever so loving. It slipped through all the wild emotions pummeling Obi-Wan. That touch of the Force was too far away to do anything except be the light of a candle in the darkness. But that candle’s flame grew without warning until it was no longer a candle’s flame, but a great burst of sunlight, bright and warm and powerful.

Quiet.

His mind was quiet.

That sunlight of Force, for just the briefest flashes of a moment, was strong enough to shelter him from the chaos of the Universe pushing at his mind. It was long enough for Obi-Wan to pull his shields back around his mind. He gasped for breath and blinked, back in the moment, holding his Master’s body. The sunlight vanished and Obi-Wan marveled at the power someone must have used to reach so far. For him. He felt entirely unworthy of such effort.

Alone, again, in the power generator, he took a few deep breaths.

He wasn’t alone. Not really. Master Qui-Gon was gone, but the galaxy kept spinning. He swallowed hard and put all his pain and grief to the back of his mind. He carefully picked up Master Qui-Gon and started walking.

It was funny. The whole world seemed a little fuzzy and far away. There were people around, but he couldn’t bring himself to concentrate on them. He stared straight ahead and walked. They didn’t need him - the battle was over. Master Qui-Gon was heavy and so much bigger than Obi-Wan, but with the Force Obi-Wan was able to manage.

It seemed to take a long time to get to the palace infirmary and all the while that he walked, there were so many happy people all around, but when they saw him, they parted like water around a river stone and let Obi-Wan pass. In the infirmary, he found an empty bed and lay Master Qui-Gon down. He straightened out Master Qui-Gon’s arms and legs, as if that could make him more comfortable.

“Do you need help, Master Jedi?” A voice, one of Padme’s many medical staff, spoke from the door of the room Obi-Wan had put Master Qui-Gon in. “You don’t have to...”

“I’m not a Master.” Obi-Wan used his fingers to tidy Master Qui-Gon’s hair. He found a blanket in a closet and lay it over Master Qui-Gon. “I’m not a Master. I’m not.”

A hand touched his arm and he looked up from Master Qui-Gon to find Padme standing next to him. He could feel her worry through the Force, could tell that she was tired and sad. She looked at Master Qui-Gon, then back at Obi-Wan. “I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you.” It was polite, but he wanted to tell her it was unnecessary. Death wasn’t a bad thing, not to Jedi. Any Jedi at the Temple would have consoled Obi-Wan with those thoughts, but he knew she meant well and it would have been rude to correct her so he said nothing about it. What would it accomplish other than making her feel badly, after all?

“Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No. We’re okay.” It screamed of a lie, even in his own mind. He wasn’t okay. He felt like he might fall apart. The empty place where Master Qui-Gon had been in his mind was like a gaping hole that seemed to grow deeper with every passing moment. Padme, for all her good heart, couldn’t understand. No one but a Jedi could and Obi-Wan wished for them, for people who understood, people who had lost a bond and knew how to heal the wound... he wanted to go home.

“Where’s Anakin?”

Padme patted Obi-Wan’s arm. “I’ll find him.”

Elsewhere-

In the vast emptiness of space, in a well-worn ship that bore the scars of many battles, Herna Roan sat stiffly in the pilot’s seat, carefully monitoring the ship’s systems as she made her way to her next job. It had been years since she’d been to her own home world, but it didn’t bother her. There was something far more important, if only she could find it, and taking jobs across the galaxy was a practical way to fund her search.

The ship was quiet. She was alone. She had long since gotten accustomed to the silence and she watched the stars as her ship flew steadily by and let her mind settle into a static peace. She had already serviced her weapons and done basic maintenance on the ship. There was nothing left to do but wait until she arrived at her next job.

She turned on the terminal that ran news broadcasts from around the galaxy but as she scrolled through the list of headlines - short text sentences that summarized the subject of a story - there was one dominant news article that kept being repeated over and over. She tapped a finger on one of those text headlines and a video appeared on the screen with one young human male speaking directly to the video recording device.

“We’re here on Naboo with what is possibly the most important political event of the past decade! Few of you may have heard of the tension on Naboo when the Trade Federation arrived at the planet. What exactly took place is not entirely known, but a fierce battle was fought by the native people of the planet to remove the Trade Federation and...”

Herna studied the background behind the reporter. Clearly, there had been a fearsome battle and she regretted missing it. There were massive, ancient buildings turned into rubble, trees uprooted and lay strewn across broken roads. People were celebrating even as others were being carried away.

“Later today, we’ll be having an interview with Minister Tibor Sen, the Major Secretary of the current Queen, to find out more details of this altercation. In the meantime, you can join Brin Gader at the Senate on Coruscant to hear what the senators think of this situation and what they plan to do. We’ll also have Gia Twiz going to the famed Jedi Temple to request an interview with the Master of the Order, Master Windu, to find out if the rumors of Jedi involvement on Naboo have any truth to them.”

Then, at that moment, Herna saw, in the background, a familiar young face. She slapped her hand down on the control button that paused the video, then zoomed in on that face. He was older than when she’d last seen him, but it was him. She had no doubt, and the sight of him made her heart beat a little faster. She made his face bigger and bigger until his face filled the whole screen.

Finally.

She stared at him. It had been years since she’d seen him last, so many long years since she’d seen his little smile.

Her search was nearly over. She had searched so long, through hundreds of planets. Herna had hunted for him in dark alleys and brilliantly lit museums, but there he was, in the background of a news story, as perfect as Herna remembered from so long ago.

“Oh, my dear. My little one.” For the first time since she’d lost track of him, she felt the overpowering weight of stress ease off. She reached out one gloved hand to run her fingers across his face, still frozen on the screen. Those big eyes were the same as she remembered. “I never gave up.” She whispered the words, though no one would hear her. “I knew I’d find you if I kept looking.”

A near hysterical laugh escaped her before she gave herself a little shake. She turned to her communication station while leaving the image of her boy on the monitor. She didn’t intent to turn it off. A few presses of buttons on the communication station had her in contact with her next client.

“Greetings. I hadn’t expected to hear from you so soon. Is everything- ”

Herna interrupted. “I will be refunding the advance payment you made. You’ll have to find another bodyguard.”

“What? Now see here! You were reputed to be reliable!”

“I have something more important to do.” Then she disconnected the link and completely dismissed her former client from her mind. She input the new destination of Naboo into her ship’s computer, then leaned back in her seat. Her eyes focused on his face, determined... she would have him.

He was going to be so happy to see her.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: Promises

Anakin-

In the hanger of the Naboo palace, Anakin sat in the cockpit of the ship he’d flown into space, the ship he’d gone into battle with. Outside, he could see the other pilots. They’d eagerly gotten out of their ships and were celebrating. There was cheering and yelling and hugging and smiles... they were so happy. The battle was over. The Trade Federation had been defeated. They were so happy.

‘I’m gonna be sick,’ Anakin thought. His hands were still clenched on the controls of the ship. ‘Mommy... I’m such a bad kid.’

Anakin had blown up the big ship. The explosion had been awesome and he’d loved finally flying a real ship. What he hadn’t expected, what wasn’t nearly so fun as the explosion, was the sudden emptiness of everything that had been in the ship. He had felt such a thing before, many times, in fact. He had felt it when Old Ljud had died so quietly in his bed and he had felt it when his mom’s friend, Gada, had been beaten so badly by her master that she’d died. He always associated that feeling with death, but this was so much bigger than he’d ever felt before and no master had done it. This time, Anakin knew, it was his fault. He’d killed the people on that big ship.

The world started to go grey around the edges and Anakin distantly realized he wasn’t breathing. He sucked in a deep gasp of air and his vision cleared, but he was very dizzy. He wanted his mom.

“Kid! Hey, Kid!”

A sharp rapping seized Anakin’s attention and he jerked his head to the side where he saw one of the Naboo pilots knocking on the glass of the cockpit.

“Come on down, kid! You did great!”

Anakin didn’t want to get out of the ship, but he was pretty sure they wouldn’t let him stay in there. So, he chewed on his lip a little before he released the cockpit’s seal and it swung up and open. He started to climb out, but he was abruptly grabbed under the arms by the man who’d been knocking on the glass.

‘No! No! No! Don’t touch!’ Anakin’s thoughts screamed at him, but he knew how to stay safe. He did what he knew to do when he was in danger. He froze. He went still and quiet and he let himself be pulled out of the cockpit and handed down from one pilot to another until he was on the ground where he was the center of a lot of attention and he wished to be anywhere else in the whole Universe. They patted his head and his back and some of them hugged him. They were so loud! Yelling and cheering and stomping their feet, it was so, so loud and it was terrible. So scary. He felt like he was trapped. Still, Anakin stayed where he was and he allowed all the touching. He didn’t argue or try to fight because they were bigger than he was and fighting big people was dangerous. His heart thundered almost painfully in his chest and he could feel the blood rushing in his ears and, still, he didn't move and hoped the touching wouldn’t turn into hurting.

Eventually, the pilots began to calm and slowly turn their attention to other people or their ships or whatever else they needed to do and Anakin was no longer being paid attention to. He slipped away and found a spot behind a large waste container in the corner of the hanger where he could hide. Once he was in his hiding spot, sitting on the floor with his knees pulled up to his chest, he closed his head and tried to be invisible.

“Anakin?”

His eyes sprung open at his name and there, kneeling on the ground near the waste containers, was Padme.

“Padme!” He smiled at once. She didn’t look as nice as she usually did. Her face was dirty and sweaty and her sleeve was torn. Her long hair was messy. “I was worried about you. Are you okay?”

“I’m alright. How about you?”

He had killed people. Lots of people. The thought of telling Padme was too, too scary.

When he didn’t answer, Padme said, “I’m sorry you had to see all this, Anakin. I know this must have been really horrible. You’ve been so brave though everything and I’m very proud of you.” She held out a hand to him and, after a minute, he took it and crawled out of his hiding place so he could sit with her. “Something’s happened.” She gave his hand a gentle squeeze.

Anakin felt a little tremble of fear creep through him. He got that funny feeling that he sometimes got when someone was sad. He squeezed her hands back. “What’s wrong?”

Padme’s eyes got watery. “It’s Master Jinn.” She took a deep breath. “He didn’t make it through the battle. He’s dead.”

And just like that, Anakin felt like all the breath left him in one great gasp.

‘He’s not supposed to die. He’s a Jedi. He’s supposed to be strong and magic and how could he die? I don’t want him to be dead. He was nice. He was polite to mom. Gonna go back to Tatooine.’ Anakin shivered, again. ‘Gonna go back. No one else at Master Jinn’s temple wanted me around. They’re gonna send me back. Watto’s gonna laugh.’

“Anakin, Obi-Wan is asking for you. Do you want to see him?”

Anakin nodded and sniffled. He was not going to cry. He liked Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was nice and he was warm. So Anakin let her pull him to his feet and they started walking. As much as Anakin was scared for himself, he also wondered what would happen to Obi-Wan as he had a suspicion that Obi-Wan was Master Jinn’s slave, even though Master Jinn had denied it.

‘Jedi Masters aren’t like the masters you’re accustomed to,’ Master Jinn had explained when they were traveling to the Jedi Temple. ‘Jedi do not own slaves. The word ‘Master’ is more of a title to indicate someone who has completed their training and has been deemed worthy to train another. Obi-Wan isn’t my slave - he’s my student.’

He had seemed to be telling the truth, but Anakin wasn’t sure. Obi-Wan did everything Master Jinn told him to, even though Obi-Wan was a grown-up, but he had also laughed with Master Jinn and had felt free to give his opinions to Master Jinn, which were definitely things slaves did NOT do. It was very confusing.

Anakin let Padme lead him through the halls of the reclaimed palace. He felt cold and shivery. His tummy really hurt. Sometimes, people would stop Padme in the halls to thank and congratulate her. Everyone was so happy. Anakin couldn’t warm up. He felt weird, like he was in the middle of a wind storm and there was so much wind that he couldn’t hear right. When Padme finished speaking with someone, she would give Anakin a little smile and they would start walking, again.

After some time, they came to a set of doors that slid open when they got near them. Inside, there were many beds. All of them were a uniform distance apart with a single pillow, bright white sheets, and a blue blanket. Each bed had a person in it. There were machines all over, droids and people working with the people in the beds. It was very busy, but also quiet. The place smelled weird, like some kind of chemical.

“This is the palace infirmary,” Padme said. “It’s not normally so busy, but, considering the invasion and battle, there are a lot of people who need help.” Padme looked at him very seriously. “Obi-Wan brought Master Jinn here. You wait here and I’ll get Obi-Wan.” She gave his hand a squeeze and then went to the far end of the infirmary and went through a door.

Anakin stood there for a moment, then swallowed hard and slowly followed. He peeked through the doorway at first and saw that unlike the other rooms, the room was small and had only one bed. There were no machines or droids and the room was very, very quiet. Master Jinn, pale and lifeless, lay in the bed. Obi-Wan stood next to the bed, just as silent as his master. He stood like a statue, his feet planted a little bit apart and his hands clasped in front of him as Padme spoke softly to him. Anakin took a few steps closer.

“He was hiding in the hanger. He needs help,” Padme said.

Obi-Wan didn’t look away from Master Jinn when he said, “He’ll get. I swear.” Then he turned his head a little and looked at Anakin. “It’s alright. You can come in.”

Padme looked at Anakin and started to say, “No. Oh, Anakin, I told you to wait and...”

“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” Obi-Wan gave Padme a pat on the arm, then held out a hand to Anakin. When Anakin went to him and took his hand, they stood side-by-side and looked at Master Jinn. “He’s not with us, but he isn’t really gone. He has Rejoined the Force. You don’t have to be afraid.”

“I’m not afraid.” Anakin was afraid, but he sure wasn’t going to admit that to anyone.

Master Jinn was really dead. Anakin knew straight away. All the warmth from Master Jinn was gone. There was a blue blanket covering up Master Jinn right up to his neck. Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan wasn’t crying, but Anakin was pretty sure he wanted to.

Sometimes he had funny feelings like that. He sometimes was just so sure he knew what people were feeling. Master Jinn said that was the Force. Mom had said it was because he was good at paying attention and understanding people. Whatever it was, he knew that Obi-Wan wanted to cry and that made Anakin was to cry, too. Obi-Wan was very pale and he had dark circles around his eyes. Obi-Wan looked... he looked like he was covered in a dark cloud. He was sad and angry and so many other things that Anakin didn’t have words for. He looked so tired.

Padme looked at them both, then said, “I’ll give you two some privacy. I have some work to deal with. I’ll speak with you both later.”

After she had left, Obi-Wan’s shoulders sagged. He went to a chair in the corner of the room and slumped down in it. When Anakin went to stand in front of him, Obi-Wan said, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I know he said that he would be your Master, but...”

When Obi-Wan’s voice trailed away, Anakin felt the weight of disappointment settle on his shoulders. He didn’t cry. He was too old to cry. But his eyes did start to feel a little itchy and he sniffled. He didn’t want to go back to Tatooine, but maybe he could be with his mom, again. Things might go back to normal. If Watto took him back. Maybe Watto would see how valuable Anakin could be since he won the race. Maybe Anakin would be so valuable that Watto would want to make money from him and sell him away from his mom.

Guilt. Guilt. Guilt. Anakin knew he was a horrible person. Worried just for himself when Master Jinn - probably the nicest master ever! - had died to save Padme’s people. But Anakin couldn’t stop thinking about being sent back to Tatooine and what would happen and he really didn’t want to go back. He was also worried for Obi-Wan because he had the very strong feeling that Obi-wan was feeling so sad and alone and he was worried and worried and worried... and he couldn’t forget that he had killed people. He couldn’t tell Obi-Wan any more than he could tell Padme, but he had killed people and there was just death everywhere.

Anakin felt sick. He didn’t throw up. It wouldn’t make things any better. People died all the time. Anakin had seen lots of people die. If they had been on Tatooine, they would have given Master Jinn’s body to the sands and the suns and his spirit would have sung forever with the winds across the deserts. But Anakin didn’t know what to do on Naboo. There were no sands and suns on Naboo, not the right ones, anyway.

Obi-Wan slipped off the chair to kneel in front of Anakin. “He was so excited to be your Master. I’m sorry you had to go through all this. I’m sorry you won’t get the Master you wanted.” Obi-Wan held Anakin’s hand carefully when he spoke to Anakin and had seemed so sincere in trying to be gentle with him, as if Anakin couldn’t see the hurt and sadness laying like a fog over Obi-Wan.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. Are you okay?” Anakin asked.

There was a moment when Obi-Wan looked like he might speak. Then he stopped and seemed to think for a moment. Finally, he answered, “I will be.”

There was still a lot of sadness, but Anakin was sure Obi-Wan was telling the truth. He might not be okay, now, but he would be. Someday he’d be okay. “So what do we do now?”

“Now, I will contact the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and tell them what has happened. The Masters on the Council will decide what to do next.” Obi-Wan blinked a little and sniffed. “As I said before - I know Master said he was going to be your Master, but that can’t happen, now. He did want to. I know he did. He thought very highly of you. He asked me to look out for you. And I will. The Masters on the Council will give us further instruction, but for now I’ll take care of everything. I’ll take care of you.”

Anakin straightened his shoulders. “And I’ll take care of you, too.”

With that soft smile of his, Obi-Wan nodded and stood up. “Well, in the interests of taking care of each other, I think it’s getting late and I should get you some food and somewhere to sleep.” He looked back at Master Jinn. “Padme’s people will take care of him until we’re ready to leave so there’s nothing much we can do here.” He hesitated. “I am sorry. I think I should have gotten you food ages ago. Are you very hungry?”

Anakin could go for days without eating - he had done it lots of times before - but he had never once refused food. “I can always eat.”

After standing up, Obi-Wan held out a hand to Anakin. “Let’s go. Yes?”

With his hand in Obi-Wan’s, Anakin could almost feel the worry start to lift. Obi-Wan felt strong and safe and when he was near Anakin’s thoughts didn’t seem nearly so crazy.

They walked through the palace quietly for a while and Anakin liked the silence. Silence felt safe.

“Is there anything in particular you’d like to eat,” Obi-Wan asked. “I’m sure Padme’s kitchens are well stocked.”

Anakin would have been happy with gruel. So he shrugged. “I’m not picky.” His mind as too full of more important worries. “Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?”

“Can I ask you some questions?”

“Always.”

“Are you happy being a Jedi?”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a minute. “You know that’s the first time anyone ever asked me that. I never really thought about it. Being a Jedi isn’t like having a job, you know. It’s... well... it’s a life. It’s all I’ve ever known and I can’t just stop being what I am. I am happy, though.” He paused for a moment, then said, "I am happy being a Jedi, even if I'm not happy at this moment."

“Do you think I’ll like being a Jedi?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

It wasn’t very reassuring. He gave Obi-Wan a cautious look, studying him. Obi-Wan was big and strong. Maybe not as big as Master Jinn had been, but he looked healthier than most slaves Anakin had seen outside the arenas. If he could get as big and strong as Obi-Wan, then he could suffer through anything because he needed to be strong. So even if he didn't end up being happy as Jedi, he was sure he could deal with being a Jedi.

“I can feel you thinking,” Obi-Wan said. “You’re very loud. We’ll have to work on building your shields, soon.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide. “You know what I’m thinking?!”

With a little laugh, Obi-Wan said, “No. Only that you’re worried and unhappy. Did you need to ask another question? I don’t want you to be unhappy.”

It seemed unfair. Obi-Wan was so sad - Anakin could tell - but he wanted to make Anakin feel better. He was so nice. It just didn’t seem right to give him more problems when he’d just lost someone he cared for. After all, Anakin was perfectly able to take care of his own problems. He wasn’t a little kid, after all - he was nine.

They passed another group of celebrating people and Anakin smelled alcohol. He thought it was a bit rude they were so happy when Obi-Wan was so sad and Master Jinn was dead. He tugged on Obi-Wan’s hand to pull him away from the happy people. “I have lots of questions. Mom said I never run out. You said you’d take care of me. So I get to stay with you?”

“For now. When we get the Temple, things may change, but I will make sure you’re alright. I expect you’ll be put in the creche with others your age for a while and whichever Master chooses you, will be very good. If fact, I have a few in mind that I may suggest. Everyone loves Master Koon so you would be happy with him, but I also think Master Windu would be an excellent Master for you.”

Anakin remembered Master Windu. Tall and scary and he frowned a lot. Anakin was pretty sure Master Windu didn’t like him and didn’t want him to be a Jedi, but he also was pretty sure that Obi-Wan didn’t tell lies.

“Can you be my Master? I’d be real good.”

“I know you’re good and... I’d like to be your Master. Master Qui-Gon even asked me to make sure you were trained, so I think he wanted me to be your Master. But I don’t think the Council would let me. I’m not a Master. I’m not even a Knight, yet. Besides, I don’t think I’d be a very good Master.” Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped a little and his eyes fell to the floor. “You deserve the very best of Masters.”

They came to a door and Obi-Wan pressed a code into a touch pad next to it which caused the door to open. “This is where we’ll stay until we can go back to the Temple. Padme’s been very generous.”

The room was wildly different than what Anakin was used to. To Anakin, it seemed like a huge room; it was far, far bigger than the whole living space he and mom had shared. There were two whole rooms just for sleeping in and a one very big room that seemed to be for eating and living in. There was what Anakin thought might be a kitchen, but there was no fire to cook over, so he wasn’t sure, and a table and some chairs and couches to sit on. It seemed like an awful waste of space.

For a long time, Anakin stood in the middle of the room and just looked around. He suddenly felt small and dirty and didn’t want to touch anything for fear of getting in trouble for spoiling it. He didn’t really think that Padme would get angry, but maybe someone would and he didn’t like getting yelled at. Or hit. Or...

Flowers.

Anakin felt like the whole world stopped. There were flowers in a little glass vase on a tiny table in front of a window. The flowers were blue and had long, slender pedals. They were beautiful. Naboo was a miracle. There were green growing things everywhere, flowers, and so much water that there were huge pools of it that Padme had called lakes and even water that rushed in a long path that she had called a river. The marvelous flowers on the table were just one more little miracle of Naboo. He wanted to touch them, but was afraid he’d break them.

Obi-Wan motioned to the large round table in the kitchen. “Sit down and I’ll find something to eat.”

“You said you weren’t a Knight, yet.” Anakin sat where he was told to and crossed his arms on the table. “What’s a Knight Jedi do?”

“Jedi Knights,” Obi-Wan went to the kitchen cupboards, searching for something. “Go out into the galaxy to help people who can’t help themselves. Sometimes by fighting, something by talking, but always trying to help bring about peace.” He found some bread and, in a strange machine that kept food cold, some kind of sliced meat. He arranged some of them together into what he called a ‘sandwich’ and gave one to Anakin before he gave Anakin a whole glass of water. Just for him. It was a huge glass, too, nearly as much as Anakin and mom would have shared for a full day’s water ration. But when Obi-Wan set the glass of water in front of Anakin, Anakin saw that Obi-Wan’s hand shook. “Master Qui-Gon had wanted to make me a Knight. He said I didn’t need him anymore. But... I’m just not sure about that. I certainly don’t feel ready.”

So, Obi-Wan would have been allowed to leave his master and go out to save people and do important things that mattered. That sounded an awful lot like freedom and a lot like what Anakin wanted to do.

They ate the sandwiches and drank the wonderfully cold water while Obi-Wan told Anakin what his days would likely be like when he lived at the Temple. He told about his own days of learning and friends and field trips out of the Temple.

Obi-Wan was quiet for a time. “Anakin, I should have asked this earlier. You agreed to go to the Jedi Temple with Master Qui-Gon. As he can’t take you there, now, do you want to go back to Tatooine?”

He wanted to be with his mom, but he couldn’t go back. Anakin knew his mom loved him and wanted him near, but he also knew she thought this was his only chance to ever get out of slavery and if he went back she would be heartbroken. He couldn’t go back. Even if he couldn’t be a Jedi, he couldn’t go back to Tatooine because he would never hurt his mom like that. “Mom wants me to be safe. She said I’ll be safer away from Tatooine. She said I could stay if I wanted to, but I knew she wanted me to leave. Master Jinn said if I become a Jedi, I’ll be strong so it would be better for me to leave Tatooine.”

“Yes, dear one.” Obi-Wan took Anakin by the hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “But what do you want?”

Anakin froze. If he was going to have a master, then he wanted Obi-Wan to be that master. Even if Obi-Wan didn’t think he’d be good at it, Anakin didn’t want any of the other Jedi. No one ever asked Anakin what he wanted. He wanted to have his mom with him so she could be free, too, and see him learning how to be strong. He wanted Master Jinn to still be alive. But it felt selfish to ask for things when Obi-Wan was sad. Obi-Wan already said the other Jedi might not let him keep Anakin and Master Jinn had already tried to get Anakin’s mom free and it hadn’t worked and he sure couldn’t make Master Jinn be alive. He couldn’t have what he wanted and he’d be a spoiled brat if he begged Obi-Wan for impossible things and made him feel even worse when he couldn’t do anything.

Anakin said, “I don’t want to go back to Tatooine.” He decided that he didn’t want to talk about why he didn’t want to go back so he said, “Say, say, you know what Master Jinn told me? He told me that if he was my Master then you and me, we’d be brothers. I never had a brother.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “Yes. People who share the same Master are considered siblings and even if that can’t happen, now, you can think of me as your brother. If you’d like to. I think I’d like to have a little brother.”

Anakin sat bolt upright. “Promise? That way, if we can’t stay together, then we can still be kinda like family. Sort of. Right?”

“Right. And, yes, I promise.”

The sadness was still all around Obi-Wan like a fog, but he was trying to push it away and Anakin knew he was trying for Anakin’s sake. He tried so hard and it was all for Anakin.

‘I killed people and he’ll hate me if I tell him. Master Jinn is dead and I’m sitting here worrying about what’s gonna happen to me. I’m so bad.’

Obi-Wan left the table and sat on the floor of the living area. “You’re still feeling badly, aren’t you? Is it about Master Qui-Gon? He wouldn’t want you to be sad for him. I’m sure he would want you to be happy.”

“But you’re sad.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, Anakin. I didn’t mean to subject you to my emotions. That’s very unfair of me.” Obi-Wan rubbed his temples with his fingers. “And it shows that my own shields need work. Sit with me and I’ll teach you to mediate while we work on our shields. It’s one of the first things Jedi younglings learn and you’ll want them once we get to the Temple.”

So they sat together and tried to mediate, but as Anakin didn’t even really know what meditating was, he didn’t know if he was even doing it right. It didn’t take long before Obi-Wan opened his eyes. “I’m sorry, Anakin. This isn’t working.” He rubbed his eyes, then shook his head. “I’m afraid my mind is too... hurt... to help you mediate, now.”

“You have a headache?” Anakin leaned forward and put his hands on the sides of Obi-Wan’s head. He started to rub in little circles like he used to do for his mom when her head hurt.

Obi-Wan gently took Anakin’s hands away and motioned for Anakin to sit, again. “No. It’s not a headache. It’s another part of being Jedi. Jedi can form bonds with each other and one of the most common bonds is between a Master and their padawan. So, when Master Qui-Gon died so suddenly it broke the bond we had and now nothing feels quite right.”

“So you have a hurt inside your head. Can Padme’s healers help?”

“No. There will be help at the Temple. It’ll only take a day or so. There’s nothing for you to worry about. We’ll skip the meditating for now and work on shielding. It’ll be very useful if you want to hide from a Jedi.”

Learning Jedi stuff was hard and Anakin was exhausted when they finished. He was so tired that he lay right down on the floor where he sitting and closed his eyes, planning to sleep there.

He heard Obi-Wan chuckle. “Oh, dear. We can’t have that. Come along.” Anakin was picked up and he allowed it because it was Obi-Wan. He didn’t open his eyes, but he slipped his arms around Obi-Wan’s neck and rested his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. There was a gentle movement when Obi-Wan started to walk, but even then Anakin was far too tired to open his eyes. Obi-Wan was so warm and strong that Anakin felt perfectly safe and it was such a very alien feeling. “Here’s your bed, dear.” Obi-Wan lay Anakin down and covered him with a couple of blankets. He smoothed a hand over Anakin’s hair and whispered, “Good night and sleep well.” Then Anakin heard footsteps and the sound of a door closing and he was alone.

At some point, Anakin woke up. It took him a few minutes to remember where he was and why the room was so dark. The bed was very soft and he snuggled with the blankets. He felt like he was sleeping on the softest of furs.

It was impossible to go back to sleep, afterwards, though. He just kept thinking and then he remembered he was supposed to be using shields and, for a while, he worked on keeping shields around his mind, just like Obi-Wan had shown him. Still, he couldn’t sleep. It was too quiet and he had a growing fear that something bad might have happened to Obi-Wan. So, after nearly an hour of trying to sleep and entirely failing, he crept out of the room. In the main room he saw Obi-Wan sitting at the table with a small communicator in front of him. Anakin sat behind the couch so he wouldn’t be caught. Obi-Wan had been right. Shielding was good for hiding from Jedi.

“Hello, Jedi Temple, please respond.”

The communicator was silent but for static.

Obi-Wan tried, again. “Jedi Temple, this is Padawan Kenobi. Please reply. This is an urgent message.”

Again, there was only static in reply.

Obi-Wan gave one of his big sighs and slumped down. He whispered, “Oh... Master... what am I going to do? I’m lost.”

When there was a knock on the door, Obi-Wan immediately straightened his back and shoulders, as if he were afraid to show any weakness to whoever answered the door and while Anakin though Obi-Wan deserved to be tired after everything that had happened, he understood how important it was to not show weakness. Obi-Wan opened the door and Padme stood on the other side.

“Good evening, Obi-Wan,” Padme said. “I’m sorry to come so late, but I wanted to see how you were doing. Can I do anything to make you more comfortable?”

“No. No, you’ve been more than generous to us and I won’t abuse that hospitality longer than necessary. You have so much to do, you don’t need to take care of us. I tried to call the Temple, just before you came in, but your communications are down. The battles must have damaged some things.”

“I’m sorry. I have people working around the clock trying to get our communications up and running, but it may be a while. You can stay as long as you like. Can I offer you further hospitality while you wait to contact for your Council?”

“Thank you, but we’ll head out as soon as possible. I need to get Master Qui-Gon home for Last Rites.”

“And Anakin?” Padme asked. “You’re taking Anakin back to Coruscant? He can stay here. I would be more than happy to keep him here. Legally, I’m not old enough to adopt him, but I can have him made a ward of the court. He’ll never want for anything and he’ll be safe with the Trade Federation gone.”

Obi-Wan’s voice was soft when he said, “Thank you. I know you’d be able to make him happy here, but I will keep him with me.”

“Because of your promise to Master Jinn?”

“Yes. But also... I like him. Anakin is a good boy and he deserves to have a chance. I want to keep him. I’ll try my very best to persuade the Council to let me be Anakin’s Master, but if they won’t, then I’ll make sure he’s happy with whoever he ends up with.”

Anakin hugged himself and couldn’t fight the grin off his face. Obi-Wan liked him. He didn’t have any reason to lie to Padme. If he didn’t like Anakin, but just didn’t want to be so mean as to tell him, then Obi-Wan would have told Padme at that moment, when he thought Anakin was asleep and wouldn’t hear. Anakin was so happy that he thought he might burst. Obi-Wan wanted him, not because he was special - like Master Jinn did - and not because he was useful - like Watto did - but because he just liked Anakin.

Behind the couch, in his hiding spot, Anakin hugged himself tighter as the strange thrill of just being liked swelled up inside him.

‘I’m going to be so good! Even if those Masters won’t let Obi-Wan be my teacher, I’ll be so good... I’ll be the best little brother ever and I’m gonna make Obi-Wan so, so proud!’

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: A Hug

Obi-Wan-

After Padme left and after he heard little Anakin creep back into the bedroom he was using - his shields were doing very well, but he needed some practice with sneaking - Obi-Wan sat on the floor and closed his eyes, trying, again to mediate. It didn’t work. Of course it didn’t. The bond he used to share with Master Qui-Gon felt like a gaping, raw wound and he couldn’t figure out a way to heal it.

And what was he supposed to do with Anakin?

Little Anakin was clearly having a hard time and, really, what child wouldn’t be? Light years away from his mother and his home, thrown into a war that he couldn’t possibly understand, and then the one person who had promised to protect him had died!

Died.

Master Qui-Gon was dead. It was almost impossible. He had always seemed, somehow, bigger than life itself. Strong, bold, wise, and all things good. Of course, Master Qui-Gon hadn’t been perfect. No one was perfect. Well... Master Plo Koon was perfect, but no one else was. Despite his imperfection, he had tried very hard to be a good Master for Obi-Wan and he was dead and Obi-Wan felt so very alone. No matter what Master Qui-Gon had said, Obi-Wan wasn’t ready to be a Knight and Anakin looked so little. He should have still been in the creche, tugging at his Crechemaster’s sleeve and getting into trouble with his friends. But Anakin wasn’t with a Crechemaster, who would know exactly what Anakin needed and how to help him best. Anakin was here and he needed Obi-Wan.

Obi-Wan took a deep breath. ‘Anakin will need new clothes; his sleeves are fraying at the cuffs. And a haircut. His hair is almost long enough to get into his eyes. Does he have allergies? What do I do if he’s allergic to some kind of food I give him? What if he misbehaves?’

Worries and fears had very little use other than to be examined for what they could teach and then released into the Force. What could his worries teach him? That he wasn’t at all ready to be a Knight, let alone a Master. No. He was going to fail Anakin. He just knew he was going to fail, and Anakin was the one who would suffer for it.

A soft touch on his cheek. ‘Time to sleep.’

It was so real that he could almost swear it had been Master Qui-Gon’s hand on his face and his voice that that spoken.

That was silly, though. It wasn’t as if Master Qui-Gon had turned into a ghost.

Still, Obi-Wan felt some of the tension ease away from his neck and shoulders. Master Qui-Gon would have given Obi-Wan a gentle pat on the cheek and told him to focus on the ‘now’, on what he could control, rather than worry so much about things that might never happen and then he would have sent Obi-Wan to bed.

Obi-Wan laughed a little at his own imagination and said to himself, “And you’d be right, wouldn’t you, Master? As soon as I get Anakin back to the Temple, everything will be fine. And I can’t help him if I worry myself sick. Right? Right. Time to sleep.” He stood up, took a moment to look in on Anakin and smiled to see him sound asleep, then headed to bed.

Anakin-

It was very early - well before dawn - when Anakin woke, as was habit. He and his mom always woke up a long time before the suns rose and the days got so hot because there was so much work to do. But he didn’t have any work to do on Naboo. He wasn’t working with his mom, he was on a whole different planet, and everything was different. So different that he didn’t know what to do. For a long time, he lay in the bed and stared at the ceiling. He pulled the blankets up closer to his chin and tried not to shiver. He would have to get used to being cold. He’d been flippin’ cold since he’d left Tatooine, but he hadn’t complained. Complaining usually made things worse.

Shielding. He was supposed to practice shielding his mind. So, as he lay there, Anakin did as Obi-Wan had taught him and worked to make his shields as tough as possible. It wasn’t hard, he just needed to remember to do it. Obi-Wan had said that Anakin needed to practice so much that he could keep his shields strong even when he was distracted and not thinking about them.

After a while, Anakin got out of bed. He needed to work. There had to be something he could do.

‘Gotta be useful,’ Anakin thought. ‘Gotta do something. Can’t be lazy.’ But Obi-Wan hadn’t given him any work to do, not even a hint about what he had to do to earn his keep. ‘Maybe he wants me to figure it out. Jedi are supposed to be smart, so he’ll want me to be smart enough to figure it out.’

So, Anakin, still dressed in the clothes he’d been wearing when he left Tatooine, left the room. The living area of the apartment they were using was empty. There was nothing to clean. Nothing to fix. Anakin wrung his hands in agitation. He needed to do something!

There was a knock on the door. Anakin frowned at the door and wondered who would come visiting before daylight. He could only think that maybe something important was going on with Padme and as soon as that thought crossed his mind, he raced to the door and hit the button beside the door to open it.

It wasn’t Padme. It was a man. A man Anakin didn’t know. There was something about the man, something weird about the way he looked at Anakin, that made Anakin cringe. Padme had assured him that there were no slaves or masters on Naboo, but Anakin knew that if the man at the door wasn't a master, then he very much wanted to be one.

“Well,” the man smiled at Anakin. “I didn’t expect a child to be awake so very early. But it is good to meet you. I expect you’re the hero of Naboo that everyone is talking about. I am very pleased to meet you. I am Senator Palpatine.”

Anakin nodded a little and wondered if he should shout for Obi-Wan.

“I had actually come here to speak with Padawan Kenobi. May I come in?”

Loud alarms started going on in Anakin’s brain. He knew very well what masters wanted when they came to a slave’s home, especially in the middle of the night, and while Master Jinn had sounded very certain when he’d told Anakin that Obi-Wan wasn’t a slave, Anakin didn’t think Senator Palpatine knew that. “No.”

Senator Palpatine blinked and looked surprised. “What?”

“No. You can’t come in.” Then, he straightened his back and tried to sound very serious when he lied, “Padawan Kenobi is very sick. He was recently on Tatooine and managed to pick up a bad case of the Nibblers. He’d been coughing for hours and his nose is running and he’s been sneezing. It’s very catchy. And now he’s got a rash. He’ll probably start throwing up soon. I’ve already had it so I can’t get it again. You’re not from Tatooine, you won’t have had it and it’s very nasty, so you can’t come in or you’ll catch it and spread it around to everyone else.”

Senator Palpatine took a step away from the door and half raised a hand, as if he were going to cover his mouth and nose to protect himself. “Well... perhaps I could speak with you, then? I am very honored to meet a real hero and...”

Anakin felt a chill run down his spine. But Master Jinn said he wasn’t a slave, anymore. He promised. Padme promised there were no slaves on Naboo. So, Anakin did the bravest thing he’d ever done in his whole life. He barked out, “I’m not a slave!” Then he quickly shut the door and, with a quick look at the controls, locked them so no one could get inside.

The room was horribly silent. Anakin stared at the door for a long time, half expecting Senator Palpatine to break the door down to get what he wanted, but nothing happened. All remained quiet.

Slowly, but surely, Anakin began to smile. When he was convinced that the senator wasn’t going to come back, he turned and strode back to the table, proud as anything that he had kept his promise to protect Obi-Wan.

Palpatine-

Palpatine began to walk away from the room the two boys shared, thinking.

The boy was rude, but intelligent. He’d kept strong shields in place all the while that he was speaking with Palpatine and it had hardly seemed to tire him at all, as if he were barely aware he was doing it. It showed immense promise for someone his age, just as Palpatine had hoped.

There were two possibilities.

Either the child was telling the truth and Padawan Kenobi had fought and killed a Sith apprentice while dreadfully ill, which meant that his potential power was far greater than Palpatine had guessed.

Or the child was lying about Padawan Kenobi being ill in, presumably, an effort to protect him while he was mourning his dead Master, which meant that he was already firmly attached to Padawan Kenobi and that attachment could be used.

Truth or lie, the brief conversation opened up a new path he hadn’t considered.

Paying a visit so early in the day that it might as well have been nighttime had been a deliberate choice. The early hour would prevent anyone from seeing him approaching the boys as well as giving him a chance of catching them off guard and half-asleep enough for him to get some information about the younger boy.

He had been planning to lure Anakin to his side, but the older boy was rather tempting, too. He could use Padawan Kenobi for years until Anakin was old enough to be of use. Even if he wasn’t remarkably strong, Padawan Kenobi was just as painfully vulnerable as the younger boy, if the gaping wound his dead Master had left in his mind was any indication. Padawan Kenobi was nearly an adult and would be able to do things a child could not - he would be able to carry out missions and to be a source of information about the Jedi Temple. If nothing else, Anakin’s attachment to Padawan Kenobi could be used to effectively influence Anakin.

If Padawan Kenobi was as strong as Anakin hinted, then Palpatine could easily train and keep the both of them.

One Master and one apprentice... it was a bit old fashioned. He could be a Master with two apprentices and, with the correct training, they would both be loyal to him.

Yes, the more he thought about it, the more he liked this new plan.

As he turned a corner and went out of sight of the two boys’ apartment, he thought, gleefully, ‘That wound your Master left when he died must pain you terribly, boy. I wonder how you’ll take to a friendly authority figure willing to give you all the attention you could wish for?’

Anakin-

Back in their apartment, Anakin still needed something to do. He would make food. That would prove to Obi-Wan that Anakin wasn’t lazy. He found the bread Obi-Wan had used to make sandwiches and braved the thing that kept food cold. There was food in there, but he didn’t touch any of it. It seemed such an extravagance to eat so much when they’d already eaten a big meal and it was never wise to be wasteful. He looked at the table where he’d put the bread. That seemed more than enough to eat. He couldn’t figure out how to get more water, but he set the table with real glass drinking glasses and the very fancy white dinner plates they’d used previously and he thought the table looked very good. He wished his mom was there so she could have the luxury of eating bread for a meal.

When Obi-Wan finally came out of the room he’d been using - though he still looked really tired and his eyes were red - he smiled at the table. “Goodness. Someone’s been busy this morning.” He got more water for them and butter for the bread and they ate quietly.

‘He’s been crying,’ Anakin thought. He wanted to help Obi-Wan feel better, but he couldn’t think of the right words. So he said, “A senator came by and wanted to see you. I chased him away.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide. “What? Why? You could have woken me up. Dealing with politicians is very important and I was being trained for it. Oh, were you afraid I’d be angry if you woke me? I wouldn’t have been.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “You don’t have to pretend. I know what people like that want if they come around for someone - especially in the middle of the night.”

“What do you think they want?”

“You know.”

With a shake of his head, Obi-Wan said, “No. I’m not sure what you’re thinking, but he might have had an important matter to discuss with the Jedi Council and wanted me to pass a message to them. Considering everything his planet’s gone though, that would be the most likely explanation.”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed. He tapped a finger on the table until he realized that Obi-Wan was being serious and he tried not sigh. Obi-Wan obviously needed a lot more protection than Anakin had thought - he must have been very sheltered in his Temple. “He wanted sex.”

With a choked gasp, Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open. “Anakin! Why would you think such a thing?”

“Well why else would he come around when it’s practically the middle of the night?! And Padme said there aren’t any slaves allowed here, so he probably has paid servants to do all his stuff for him. And if he wanted you to pass on a message, he woulda waited ‘til daylight. I bet he heard that Master Jinn died and he thinks you’re fair game ‘cause there’s no one to protect you now! So I told him you were really sick with something very catchy. I think he’ll stay away for a while, but you should stay away from him.”

“You told him I was sick?”

“With a bad cough, a runny nose, throwing up, and a horrible rash. Hopefully, he’ll never want to touch you, now.”

Obi-Wan turned red and put his hands over his face. “Oh... oh, dear.” Then he took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling. “Well, I wasn’t much in the mood to talk to anyone last night, anyway. I’ll have to see what he wants, later, though.”

Clearly, Obi-Wan didn’t understand the danger he was in.

“Well,” Obi-Wan stood up. “I think it’s time to start our day. Breakfast is finished and we have some social obligations to take care of before we can leave. And you, I think, should wash up. Have you used a sonic before?”

“Yes. I know how to keep clean,” Anakin said.

“Well, that’s excellent because this apartment only has a sonic to wash in.” That led to Anakin following Obi-Wan back into the room Anakin had slept in and into the attached fresher. Obi-Wan said, “You clean up in the sonic and leave your dirty clothes on your bed. Some time, I think you may like to try a water shower.”

“Oh!” Anakin grinned at the idea. “I saw one, once. Mom and I had to go serve Daimyo Jabba and he had one at his palace. It was crazy - water was just falling from the ceiling!”

“In that case, we’ll try to arrange for you to have one. Now, I need to go speak to Padme about tomorrow’s events before she gets too busy. That poor girl is going to be rushed off her feet for a long while. Will you be alright here, alone?”

“I can take care of myself, but you have to stay away from that senator. He’s gonna hurt you.”

“I promise I’ll be careful. You stay here and I’ll be back very soon.”

For a long time after Obi-Wan left the apartment, Anakin stood there, staring at the door. It was clear to him that Obi-Wan didn’t believe him about the senator. That was dangerous. How was he supposed to take care of Obi-Wan if Obi-Wan didn’t even know he was in danger?

With that troubling thought still in his mind, Anakin went to do as he was told and washed in the sonic. He stayed in there far longer than really necessary, but he loved being clean. Every inch of him felt like he’d been polished to a shine by the time he got out and wrapped himself in what was probably the biggest, fluffiest towel that had ever been made.

But when he left the fresher, he realized something that made his whole world seemed to freeze. His heart felt like it just stopped and his hands started to shake.

His clothes were gone.

He had left them on the bed, just like Obi-Wan had told him to, but they were gone. ‘He’s gonna be mad. He’ll think I lost them. He’ll think I’m trouble and careless.’ Anakin frantically wrung his hands together. Then he sucked in a deep breath and started to search the room because maybe, just maybe, his clothes had fallen behind the bed or maybe he’d put it in the closet and just forgot, but the clothes weren’t anywhere and he ended up standing helplessly in the middle of the room. ‘I said I’d be good and then THIS happens! He’ll think I’m bad or stupid or... or something! What do I do? What do I do?’

A knock on the door. “Anakin? I’m back. I can feel that you’re a bit upset. Is everything alright?”

Tears burned Anakin’s eyes. ‘And I let my shields go down when Obi-Wan told me not to!’ He clutched the towel around himself so tightly that his hands hurt.

Another knock. “Anakin? Please, answer me.”

Opening and closing his mouth a few times, Anakin finally squeaked out, “I’m okay. I’m okay. Nothing’s wrong.” Because if he had a few more minutes, he could find his clothes. They didn’t just disappear, after all! They were in the room, he just had to find them. He just needed time!

“Yes,” Obi-Wan said, softly. “That’s not a bit suspicious. I’m coming in.”

Like he was bolted to the floor, Anakin could do nothing but stand there as Obi-Wan, wearing his long brown robe, stepped in. They stared at each other for a moment. Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. “Oh, dear. We do seem to have a bit of a problem. Your clothes?”

There was at least a little comfort for Anakin in that Obi-Wan didn’t seem terribly angry. “I can’t find them. I didn’t lose them! I’m sure I put them on the bed.” He pointed to the bed, where the clothes most definitely were not, as if it were at fault. Anakin had gotten beaten for lesser crimes than misplacing clothes. He looked bravely up at Obi-Wan. “I’m sure I put them there. I didn’t lose them.”

Obi-Wan looked at the bed with a frown. “I see. Give me a minute.” He started to leave the room, then stopped and took off his robe. To Anakin’s utter astonishment, Obi-Wan draped the robe around Anakin. “I don’t want you to get cold. Sit tight. I won’t be long.”

He left and Anakin was, again, alone. The robe was very warm and it smelled like soap. It was heavy on Anakin’s shoulders and he thought it almost felt like a hug.

A few minutes later, Obi-Wan returned and he carried with him a small pile of neatly folded cloth. “I have an answer to our mystery.” He sat on the bed and gestured for Anakin to sit with him. “It seems that while I was gone and you were washing up, one of the palace maids dropped by to collect the laundry to be washed. She didn’t realize anyone was here, so she just collected what she thought needed to go. You didn’t lose your clothes - they’re being cleaned.”

It was almost enough to make Anakin laugh. “Cleaned? Someone’s cleaning MY clothes?!” Only his mom had ever done such a thing. To think that someone was actually taking the time to... that her job was to... she was paid to clean Anakin’s clothes! It was just silly. But Obi-Wan didn’t laugh, so he wasn’t joking. “Then... you’re not mad at me?”

“No. Although it spoils my surprise a little. I was going to give this to you tomorrow morning, but I think you’ll want it now. I asked Padme to have one of her seamstresses do you up a new outfit. There will be a lot of celebrations tomorrow and I’m obligated to go. I won’t make you go, but if you want to go, I thought you might like something new to wear.” He handed the pile of cloth he’d brought into the room to Anakin who very carefully unfolded everything. Obi-Wan said, “It’s very like the uniform you’ll wear at the Temple. I hope it fits well.”

New clothes. Not just new to Anakin, but clothes that had never been worn by anyone before. The cloth was sturdy and soft to the touch, all in cream colors similar to Anakin’s old clothes and what Obi-Wan wore. There was even a pair of soft boots in the pile! Anakin, who knew very well how rare it was to get anything brand new, nearly cried. Obi-Wan was clearly didn’t know how expensive clothes were or he would have done what Anakin’s other masters had done and bought clothes that were too big so Anakin would get years of wearing out of them. He hugged the new clothes to his chest and gave Obi-Wan a smile.

“Do you like them?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes. Yes. Thank you.” But the words didn’t seem like they were enough to Anakin. He needed bigger, better words to tell Obi-Wan how thankful he was. Obi-Wan gave him everything and then acted like it was nothing at all.

Obi-Wan was the best big brother in the whole Universe!

Obi-Wan ruffled Anakin’s hair. “Oh,” He tugged on a piece of paper that had been tied onto the clothes Anakin held. “Looks like the seamstress left a tag on. See?” He held the tag up to Anakin could look at the funny marks on it. “This is your name written in basic. She must not have wanted it to get confused with her other work.” Anakin stared at it in awe. He’d never actually seen his name written. He traced slowly over with the marks with the tip of his finger. “If you like it, you may keep it,” Obi-Wan said as he stood up. “But it needs to come off your clothes.” He left, again, and returned with a pair of scissors. One sharp snip and the tag was off. Obi-Wan set the scissors on the bed and solemnly held the tag out to Anakin. “Someday, very soon, you’ll be able to read and write this for yourself. For now, if you like it, keep it safe and we’ll bring it back to the Temple with us.”

Anakin took the tag with a grin. “Yes. I’ll keep it forever and ever and I’ll work really hard to learn my name.”

“I know you will. And if I’m not much mistaken about how bright you are, you’ll be writing your name, my name, and a thousand other words very soon. Now, I need to try to contact the Jedi Council, again. You get dressed.”

As soon as Obi-Wan was gone and the door closed, Anakin put on his new clothes and desperately wished his mother could see how well Obi-Wan valued him so she wouldn’t be sad that he’d left. He looked at himself in the mirror and it almost seemed impossible. New clothes. Just for him. And not because he even really needed them, because there was at least a whole year of wear left in his old clothes, but Obi-Wan was just so good that he wanted to give Anakin clothes.

The scissors were still on the bed. Without a hint of hesitation, Anakin picked up the scissors and smiled at them. “I’m gonna be just like Obi-Wan!”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: Braids

After Obi-Wan left Anakin to try on the new clothes the seamstress had made for him - Anakin’s joy had shone through his newly built, still a bit shaky shields easily - Obi-Wan sat at the table and tried to contact the Temple, again. It was another failed attempt. He stared at his small communicator, then sighed and turned it off. There was no hope. Naboo’s communications system was simply too damaged. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. His head was starting to hurt and it didn’t feel like it was the pain from losing Master Qui-Gon.

He stood up and went to look out the window of their borrowed apartment and he could see the preparations for the celebrations Padme had told him would take place the next day. It would be a full day of parades, speeches, dancing, music, and anything else that could be done to raise the moral of a people who had nearly lost their home and had lost many loved ones. He saw a virtual army of workers clearing the streets of rubble and debris.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan called out. “We need to talk about tomorrow. When you’re dressed, come on out and...” He heard the sound of Anakin’s bedroom door opening and turned around to speak to him, but faltered at the sight of his new little brother. “Oh. Oh, dear.”

Obi-Wan would have to be excuse for letting his words escape him because he turned around and found Anakin standing in the doorway of the bedroom. His long, shaggy hair had been, for a lack of a better word, butchered. Parts were still long, parts were cut right down to the skin, and one chunk had been left uncut but was horribly tied into knots. Anakin’s eyes were narrowed with barely contained anger.

With his teeth gritted, Anakin grumbled, “I can’t get it to tie right!” He grabbed the knotted length of hair and yanked it, harshly.

“Hey!” Obi-Wan rushed to Anakin and took Anakin’s hand away from his hair to prevent more yanking. “Don’t hurt yourself! There’s no reason to be angry.”

“But I want to look like you and it won’t tie right. I make droids, so why can’t I make a braid?!” Anakin pulled his hair, again.

Obi-Wan took both of Anakin’s hands and held them and, once again, felt entirely out of his depth. “It’s okay. I’ll teach you. But you can’t hurt yourself. Looks like you’re pretty frustrated, but hurting yourself won’t help. So,” Obi-Wan, still holding Anakin’s by the hands, led him over to the living area and sat cross-legged on the floor. His headache was really starting to hurt. “You want a braid?”

“I like yours, but it won’t go right. And Master Jinn said I’d have one. He was gonna give me one.” Anakin sat in front of Obi-Wan. “And now all my hair looks weird. It’s not good like yours.”

Obi-Wan had left the scissors in Anakin’s room. He hadn’t even given it a thought. Anakin was so bright Obi-Wan hadn’t considered that he would need to worry about leaving scissors within his reach. “Your hair isn’t weird. If you’d like, I could...ah... tidy it up a bit.” He’d have to get Anakin to a barber in the Temple to get it done properly, but he couldn’t let the boy go running around with his hair all knotted up. So Anakin fetched the scissors he’d used on his hair, then, without prompting, turned around and sat with his back to Obi-Wan. It didn’t take long, just a little trimming here and there to make things a bit more uniform, but the length of hair Anakin had tried to braid was the real trouble. “I could cut it off and you can braid it when it starts to grow.”

But Anakin turned and looked at Obi-Wan with wide, shiny eyes and a wobbly bottom lip.

“Or,” Obi-Wan said. “I could try to untangle it, now.”

Like magic, the pouty expression vanished and Anakin smiled. “Thank you.”

For close to a half-an-hour, they sat quietly while Obi-Wan very carefully worked to untangle Anakin’s hair. Strand-by-strand, Obi-Wan pulled the hair apart until he had it all undone and he ran his fingers over it. It was short, no longer than a few inches, but that was really no different than any junior Padawan who had their hair braided for the first time. When that was done, Obi-Wan stretched, surprised to find he was more than a little sore. Just sitting in one position for such a short time shouldn’t make him sore, but he couldn’t deny the ache in his arms and back. Obi-Wan decided to ignore the aches; he had a child to care for, after all, and that was surely more important than a few aches.

“You really wanted a braid, huh?” Obi-Wan thought back to when Master Qui-Gon had first braided his hair and it pained him in a strangely sweet way because Master Qui-Gon would never braid Obi-Wan’s hair again, but the memory of that time, when Master Qui-Gon had been so gentle and vowed to teach and protect him was one of the warmest memories Obi-Wan had. “Really, we should have waited until we got back to the Temple before braiding your hair. There are reasons for it.”

“What reasons?” With apparently delight, Anakin raked his fingers over his hair, which was so short that it was nearly spiky, just like Obi-Wan’s.

“Kidnapping, for one.” When Anakin’s eyes went wide, Obi-Wan explained, “People who are force sensitive can be valuable. While a fully trained Jedi Knight or Master would be an extremely dangerous target, there are low people who wouldn’t hesitate to abduct a Jedi youngling. That’s why younglings are never allowed outside the Temple without a guardian. You remember I told you about field trips the younglings would take? Well, there would always be the Creche Master and at least one Knight for every youngling just to prevent anyone from getting lost or kidnapped. Junior Padawans must be in the company of a Master or a Knight if they were to leave the Temple. Senior Padawans, like me, are allowed to leave the Temple alone, but we must have express permission of our Masters and must tell them exactly where we are going and when we expect to return. Having a Padawan’s braid is very distinctive and makes you a target.”

As Obi-Wan had been speaking, Anakin started to get tense. “You mean people will want to make me a slave just because I’m gonna be a Jedi?”

“Yes. I’m sorry. But once we get to the Temple, you’ll be safe. No one enters but Jedi and there are Temple Guards who would stop anyone unauthorized who tried to get in.”

“Will you still teach me to braid?”

“Really, it should be done by whomever chooses you to be their Padawan. It’s a special thing for a Master to braid their Padawan’s hair. But, as you currently look like a Jedi Padawan who let their braid fall out, putting a braid in at this moment won’t make much difference. And, since you’re not technically a Padawan, yet, it’s alright if I do it.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to be slave, again.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “I think we’re pretty safe here and when we leave it’ll be just you and me in a ship that won’t stop until we get to the Temple. It should be fine. But you’ll have to take the braid out when we get to the Temple as you aren’t officially a Padawan, yet.”

“Are you really sure you can’t be my Master?”

“I can’t be anyone’s Master until I stop being a Padawan, myself, and that will take time to sort out. I think you’ll like being in the creche. You’ll be able to make some new friends. Now, let’s go to the fresher and you can watch in the mirror when I braid your hair. It won’t be long, but it’ll grow as you do.”

If Anakin gave a little shriek of happiness before he dashed to the fresher, well... he wasn’t a Padawan, yet, so there was little need for decorum when they were alone.

In the fresher, Obi-Wan picked Anakin up under the arms and sat him on the counter where he could see himself in the mirror, then, began to slowly tie the few strands of Anakin’s hair that hadn’t been cut short into a tiny braid. It wasn’t even an inch long and Anakin pouted when he looked at Obi-Wan’s long braid that hung well passed his shoulder and was decorated with several colorful beads. It was almost enough to make Obi-Wan smile; he didn’t need the Force to tell him what Anakin was thinking.

Obi-Wan finished off the braid with a little tie. “Not to worry. You have years to let it grow. Someday, no matter who ends up being your Master, they will take pride in braiding your hair for you. And only your Master should be tying your braid. All younglings who grow up in the Temple know this, but you need to know that a Padawan’s braid is a very personal thing. Only you or your Master are allowed to touch it and you will only ever have your braid cut when it’s time for you to become a Knight. Your Master will cut it for you, then. If anyone else tries to touch your braid, they are not allowed to.”

“Is it really bad?”

“I suppose to anyone who isn’t a Jedi, it wouldn’t matter much, but for Jedi... well... it’s forbidden for someone who isn’t a Padawan’s Master to touch their braid.”

“But what about your braid?” Anakin asked. “You said you might get a new Master. What happens to your braid?”

“Well, if I become a Knight, then it will have to be cut. It’s not unheard of, in this sort of situation, for another trusted Master to stand in to do the braid cutting.” He knew who he would ask to cut his braid, if that was what the Council decided would be done. “If the Council decides I need to have a new Master, then, well... I suppose I will have to get used to someone else tying my braid.” The thought of anyone but Master Qui-Gon touching his braid made Obi-Wan’s stomach churn uncomfortably, but it was something he would have to deal with sooner or later. Later. He would think about it later. “But it will all work out, so there’s no need to worry about that. I just wanted to warn you that while I can braid your hair for now, you will have to have it out when we get back to the Temple until a Master claims you.”

“Is it okay that I have a braid now? Will anyone get angry?”

“No one will be angry with you,” Obi-Wan said, thinking it silly that anyone would ever be mad at Anakin.

The Next Day-

Obi-Wan was sick. He couldn’t deny it. He’d woken up feeling dreadful with a throbbing headache, hurting muscles, and he was pretty sure he was going to develop a fever. However, he had things to do. So he’d taken a few painkillers and started to get ready to begin the day.

He made sure he was dressed correctly, every bit of his outfit just right so as to not shame the Jedi Order on such an official occasion when there would be so many important people in attendance and he wouldn’t have his Master to supervise him. He took time to carefully examine every inch of his robe to make sure the damage done to it during the battle with the Sith was repaired. Jedi may not be vain, but there was no reason to look like he didn’t care about how he showed his face to the galaxy.

“There are people who will judge by outward appearances, people who will look for any insignificant detail to find fault in you, your Master, and the Order,” Obi-Wan had once been told. “You may as well not give them any extra ammunition.”

Grandmaster Dooku had always been firm about presenting a respectable image.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan called out as he checked the mirror one last time to make sure he was perfect and wouldn’t bring shame to the Order. “It’s time to go.”

With a soft sound of the bedroom door sliding open and then closed, Anakin rushed out to join Obi-Wan. “I’m ready. Look, I have all my new things on. Will Padme notice? Can I thank who made them? Do we have to do anything important or be quiet?”

“I’m sure Padme will like your new clothes. We can ask Padme to thank the person who made the clothes for you, but they are probably celebrating with their friends and family so we may not see them before we leave. And here’s what’s going to happen.” He’d had a long talk with Padme so he knew what was going on and they could plan things out. “You and I are going to stand with Padme and listen while a lot of people make speeches. I’m sure there will be metals and awards. There always is at this sort of thing. We won’t be getting anything of the sort; Jedi don’t need to be rewarded for what we do. This is very important to the people of this planet so we must be respectful. You and I will be quiet and stand as still as we can while everyone talks. It’s not going to be very exciting. Are you sure you want to come?”

Anakin nodded, eagerly. “I want to help!”

“Alright. Padme’s been very kind to us and to... to Master Qui-Gon. She’s even helping us to get him home by lending us one of her ships. So you and I can best help if we are very kind to her. Right?”

It was almost funny how Anakin’s face tightened with determination. “Right! We can do it!”

Elsewhere-

On the rooftop of a building near the Naboo palace, Herna waited. She had been very patient ever since she landed on Naboo, but she hadn’t found a chance to speak with her boy, alone. She took the scope off her rifle and held it up to one eye to look at the palace where she knew her boy was being housed. There were people everywhere, alert guards and busy servants and all other manner of people. It was sure to be difficult to get access to him without violence and she certainly didn’t want to do anything that might end up accidentally getting him hurt - not if it could be prevented, anyway. So, all day and night she waited in the distance, secretly watching and waiting for she only needed a moment alone with him.

But that moment never came.

She was still waiting and watching when her boy finally left the palace. The palace had a huge set of wide stairs leading from the street up to it and it was there that Herna saw her boy step out into the sunlight. As soon as he’d stepped out of the palace, with the younger boy trailing at his side, her boy had been surrounded by people whether it was guards or politicians or grateful citizens... there just wasn’t a moment she could approach him. So she held back and put her rifle’s scope back up to her eye after she pushed the button to activate the audio enhancement so that even at such a great distance, she could hear her boy’s voice. Her boy stood on those stairs for a time while official people, obviously gathering for the celebration, began to arrive. One older, well-dressed man approached Herna’s boy with a soft smile.

“Padawan Kenobi,” the man said, putting a hand on her boy’s shoulder. “I do hope you’re feeling better. I had heard about your illness yesterday from this very competent young man.” The man gestured to the smaller boy.

“Thank you, Senator Palpatine. I’m very well and I'm honored that you would think to inquire about my health.”

“Think nothing of it. Why, as heroes of our planet, both of you boys deserve all the consideration possible. I’m sure that when you return to your Temple, there will be similar accolades for both of you as you are remarkable credits to your Order. They will be so very, very proud of you.”

Herna scowled and hated the old man. She wanted him dead. He had put his unworthy hands on her boy and he had spoke so familiarly, though her boy was clearly not welcoming the conversation. The old man was entirely too close to her boy. Too flattering. She saw the way her boy kept a protective hand on the younger boy’s shoulder and how he coolly replied to the old man.

Her boy gave the vile old man a bow and spoke so politely, “Thank you, Senator Palpatine. That is most kind of you. I apologize for not being able to meet with you last night.”

“Not a problem at all. I am very pleased at your speedy recovery.” And he grinned at the younger boy, as if they shared a joke, though the younger boy did not smile in return. In fact, he seemed to bristle, like an offended tooka, and pressed himself close to her boy’s side.

Herna was so happy - absolutely delighted! - to see her boy wrap a protective arm around the younger boy. Of course he would, he was a good, honorable boy. He knew what was right and wrong and he knew that children were to be protected.

“And while I have your attention,” Senator Palpatine continued. “I would like to officially offer the condolences of the Naboo government for the loss of Master Jinn. That was why I went to your apartment at such an unseemly hour last night. I knew today would be very busy and I had hoped to catch you before all this activity. As you know, we are having a bit of a communication problem at the moment, but as soon as all is set to rights, I will contact the Master of the Order, personally. From my own heart,” he lightly lay a hand on his chest. “I offer my own condolences to yourselves. One only had to see the two of you with Master Jinn to know how much he meant to you.”

From where she spied on them, Herna nearly cheered at the news. The Jedi Master was dead. It was perfect. But her happiness evaporated when Senator Palpatine, again, put that all too friendly hand on her boy’s shoulder. She wanted to rip that hand off.

Herna’s boy said, “Thank you for your kindness. I will pass your message to the Master of the Order. If you will excuse us, Her Majesty expects us to stand with her during the celebration and it wouldn’t do to offend her.”

“Of course, of course. Though I know she would wait for you. The whole world would. But you get going and just remember,” he looked at each boy with an inviting smile. “I’m always available to talk. In fact, I spend most of my time on Coruscant, not a mile away from the Jedi Temple. I hope to see a great deal of you both in the future. If either you of needs anything, even if it’s just a friendly ear to talk to, my door is always open for you.”

Senator Palpatine walked away and the younger boy muttered, “I’d rather kiss a bantha.”

“Anakin! Really... manners.”

The relief Herna felt when that senator walked away from her boy was incredible. She had to get him away from that senator. He was entirely too friendly, too close... she could see the greed in his eyes when he looked at her boy. She hated that. Hated that senator.

More and more people gathered on the front stairs of the palace while even more formed a crowd at the base of the stairs. She set down her scope. Patience was best. She had been patient for years, she could wait just a little longer. Not much longer, though, because she would not let him go back to the Jedi Temple. Those unworthy cretins had already stolen him, once, she wouldn’t let them have him a second time.

Herna raised the scope back up to her eye and began to scan the area, looking and listening for any useful information. Her attention fell on a small field a short distance from the crowd where her boy was. In that field was a modest sized ship with several technicians in blue coveralls working on it.

“Her Majesty is giving this ship to the Jedi?” One of the technicians gave a whistle. “Nice present.”

“Considering how they helped us,” another one of the workers said, sharply. “I think it’s a perfectly decent gift. They certainly deserve more. I heard that Jedi take vows of poverty, though. They aren’t allowed to own anything. Maybe that’s why they haven’t got a ship of their own.”

“Poverty?” A third worker snorted. “I went to Coruscant once and I saw the Jedi Temple. Believe me, it’s no hovel. It’s practically a city all for themselves. And they don’t let anyone in but other Jedi, so who knows what kind of treasures they have stored away, especially if they keep getting gifts like this.” He waved at the ship they were working on. “I’m glad he’s going, to be honest. I don’t care for Jedi. Unfeeling, cold... it’s like they’re not real people.”

Herna scowled at the discourtesy.

Yet another one of the many busy technicians scolded, “Now that’s just mean! The older Jedi died helping us and I saw the one who’s leaving and he’s just a boy. A real baby-face. There’s no reason to be cruel and talking behind people’s back is rude.”

“Now, I didn’t mean to be cruel. You know I didn’t. But I’m not lying. You ever see a Jedi up close? I think they must remove their hearts, they’re so emotionless. And that baby-faced boy doesn’t even look a bit upset about the other Jedi dying. He doesn’t care at all.”

They kept gossiping as they worked on the ship that was, apparently, a gift to Herna’s boy. It was polished to a shine, a real kingly gift. As she stared at the ship, the throng of people celebrating, and the busy technicians working on the ship, a rather simple idea occurred to her. She smiled and left her observation spot.

A few minutes later found her on the ground and, from there, she watched the technicians work. She watched until they finished and began to pack up their tools. Silently, she followed when the group of them went to a large building, over which hung a sign that read, ‘Engineer Corp 31A Headquarters’. She waited and waited. When the technicians left the building, no longer dressed in their stained blue coveralls but, instead, wearing brightly colored Naboo civilian clothing, they let the door close on its own and not one of them looked back to see that it had closed. It gave Herna plenty of time to catch the door before it closed and creep in.

It was a workshop, very large and with hundreds of types of tools that could undoubtedly fix any type of problem on a ship. It was silent and dark. Most of the building was one large workshop with enough room to fit a ship inside, if need be, but there were a few other doors. A few led to offices, a few to storage rooms, and one, she found with a grin, led to a locker room. Except for a cap someone had left on a bench, there wasn’t anything left laying around and she knew that the technicians must have stowed their things away in the lockers which were, unfortunately, locked. She had just decided to break into one of the lockers when the locker room’s door opened and a voice demanded,

“Hey! What are you doing here?”

She turned sharply at the voice and found a technician, grease on her forehead and her hair tied into a messy bun on the back of her head, standing in the doorway of the locker room. She had obviously finished later than her co-workers as she still wore her coveralls.

The technician strode closer. “Civilians aren’t allowed in here. You’ll have to leave.”

Herna raised her blaster and shot woman. The woman fell without a word, a crumpled heap on the floor. The smell of burned flesh filled the room, but Herna paid it little mind. It was an old, familiar scent. She went to the woman and rolled her onto her back. With an appraising eye, Herna looked at the woman closely - her height and weight and build. It was good. A lucky find, really. She stripped the woman of her coveralls, then shoved the body into a shower stall and closed the door. The body wouldn’t be found for hours and that was more than enough time for Herna. She took off her armor, even her helmet. It was risk, but one she was willing to take. When she wore nothing but her black one-piece undersuit, she quickly put the coveralls on and grabbed the abandoned cap from the bench. When she put the cap on, she pulled it low to hide her face before she left the locker room. As she walked through the workshop, she grabbed an equipment bag and made her way, as casually as she could, to the ship her boy would be traveling on.

The celebration was still going at a roaring pace when Herna arrived at the ship. That was good. Not a single person paid her any attention when she went under the ship and found the access panel protecting the workings of the hyperdrive. It took her only a few minutes to figure out what she was looking at and, when she did, she pulled two wires loose and flipped a switch. That was all. No need to do more. The hyperdrive wouldn’t operate with the way she left it. The ship would fly perfectly well, perfectly safely, but it wouldn’t be able to jump to hyperspace and that was exactly what Herna needed. She could wait until her boy left Naboo - and he would have to go a good distance away before he could attempt to use the hyperdrive - and then fetch him when he found himself helpless. They would be far enough away from any inconvenient interference from either the Naboo or from the Jedi Temple that she would be able to take her time with her boy and explain things.

She closed the panel and looked around. Not a single person was paying her any attention considering the raucous revelry going on. She stood by the ship for a minute and watched goings on. She could see her boy standing just behind the queen with the smaller boy at his side.

Soon.

Soon.

Mine.

There was nothing left to do but wait for her boy to leave Naboo. So Herna went back to locker room and put on her armor. She abandoned the coveralls with the body of the technician and left the city and, well into the surrounding forest, far from any inquisitive eyes, she found her ship where she’d landed it, neatly concealed. Her satisfaction grew with every minute - she was so close, so close to finally having him! Once she was in her ship and it was sealed for going into space, she went to the cockpit and sat in the pilot’s seat. Impatiently, she waited, watching the forest around her though her T-shaped visor.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Distress

Anakin-

On the morning that they were going to leave Naboo, before they had to go to the big party Padme was having for her people, Anakin woke up and dressed carefully in his new clothes. Brand new. No stains or repaired tears or anything. New. Not only new, but made just for Anakin because Obi-Wan had asked for them. He admired his clothes in the mirror and grinned at his new braid before Obi-Wan called out from the living area and Anakin rushed to meet him.

Obi-Wan was sick.

Anakin could tell right away. Obi-Wan’s eyes had that funny shiny look people got in their eyes when they got a fever and his voice sounded a little funny when he spoke and he moved slower than usual. It scared Anakin. People died when they got sick.

All the same, Anakin smiled and tried to be cheerful for Obi-Wan’s sake. They had an important day. They had to support Padme because she was helping them. Anakin knew how important this whole day was for Obi-Wan and, from what Obi-Wan had said, it seemed like they HAD to do this, even if Obi-Wan was sick.

Together, they slowly walked through the halls of the palace.

After a time, Anakin boldly reached up and took hold of the brown sleeve of Obi-Wan’s robe. “Padme won’t be mad if we don’t go,” Anakin said, softly. “She’s nice. She won’t get angry.”

Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin. “Would you like to go back to our rooms? I know this sort of thing can be daunting.”

“Not me. You’re sick. You should be sleeping. Mom said sick people should get lots of rest.”

“Your mom sounds like a very smart person, but sometimes Jedi have to put the needs of other people above their own. The people of Naboo need this celebration to raise their moral so they can continue their recovery effort and it will help them a good deal to see they are supported.”

“But you’re sick!”

Obi-Wan sighed. “Yes. But I’m sure it’s only a cold. The Force will sustain me.”

“Medicine would sustain you, too. And how can the Force help a cold?”

“With the Force, amazing things are possible.”

Anakin opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned as an awful thought occurred to him. “Does... does that mean I made you sick? I told that senator you were sick. Did the Force think I wanted you to be sick? I didn’t!”

Obi-Wan laughed. “No. You didn’t want me to be sick, this isn’t your fault. Jedi aren’t infallible or magical. We can get sick just like anyone else.”

“Padme has an infirmary and...” At Obi-Wan’s sad face, Anakin hesitated. “I’m sorry. Master Jinn is still there. Would you be too sad to go?”

“You,” Obi-Wan said with a little smile. “Are a very compassionate little boy, did you know that? Going to the infirmary would hurt, but that is an attachment and a Jedi must not let an attachment control them. It’s important that we do what must be done, even if we are hurt or afraid or angry. That’s not why I don’t go to the infirmary, though.”

“Then why?”

They came to some great big doors, then. A guard at the doors typed something into a control panel next to the doors and they opened. They walked out of the palace and out into a bright, sunny day with clear blue skies. Despite how nice it looked, it was cold. So terribly cold and Anakin wished he had a robe like Obi-Wan’s.

“The medicine in Padme’s infirmary is for her people. She was very generous to give us space for Master Qui-Gon to rest in, but unless it is a dire emergency, I wouldn’t take any medical supplies from her people. So much was destroyed that there is no extra. If I ask Padme for medicine, she will have to make the choice to help me or to help her people and no matter what choice she made, it would make her feel bad. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to do that.”

Anakin wanted to argue, but Obi-Wan made too much sense.

As they stood outside the palace, several people came up to them and started talking to Obi-Wan. Eventually, the nasty senator who had come to their rooms when it was still dark out, approached. He spoke with Obi-Wan for a little and acted friendly, but he just kept talking and talking and Anakin scowled at him - couldn’t he see that Obi-Wan was sick? But the senator kept talking.

Finally, after a long time of talking and looking impressed with himself, the senator told them, “I’m always available to talk. In fact, I spend most of my time on Coruscant, not a mile away from the Jedi Temple. I hope to see a great deal of you both in the future. If either you of needs anything, even if it’s just a friendly ear to talk to, my door is always open for you.”

Senator Palpatine walked away.

Anakin muttered, “I’d rather kiss a bantha.”

He had not muttered quietly enough because Obi-Wan gasped. “Anakin! Really... manners.”

“Well... it’s the truth. You wouldn’t want me to lie, would you?” Besides that, Anakin knew a LOT worse things to say that that. He knew naughty words in three languages. He wondered if Jedi had naughty words and who he could ask to teach him because he was pretty sure Obi-Wan didn’t know even a single naughty word.

They stayed on the huge landing outside the palace, but went close enough to the edge that Anakin could look down at the many stairs that led down to the ground. More and more people began to arrive until Anakin guessed there must have been a thousand people in front of the palace. When Padme arrived, looking so pretty in another fancy dress, everything started. People got really quiet and Obi-Wan went to stand near Padme. Anakin had tried to stand behind Obi-Wan, because he had always been told to stand behind his betters, but when he did, Obi-Wan looked back and him and quietly said, “Come stand next to me, Anakin.”

Anakin was dreadfully proud that Obi-Wan thought he was so important.

“Stay close,” Obi-Wan said. “There are so many people around, I don’t want to lose you. Everything will start soon.”

Anakin looked beyond Obi-Wan to where Padme was talking to several very important looking people. He wanted to talk to her, but interrupting people was very bad. So he stayed quiet at Obi-Wan’s side.

He was just thinking of how thrilling it was to be allowed to publicly stand right next to important people like Obi-Wan when, all of a sudden the sky exploded with color and a sharp crash of an explosion so loud that Anakin jumped and nearly ran away until Obi-Wan’s hand landed on his shoulder.

“It’s alright. It’s just fireworks. Sorry, I should warned you this might happen. Many cultures use them to celebrate. It’s just noise and colors, we’re a safe distance away. They’d be even more impressive at night.”

Fireworks, Anakin quickly decided, were terrible. They were loud and bright with lots of different colors - like gigantic sparks in the air. The sound was like bombs. He was very happy when they ended and people started singing. There was a lot of singing and music. Then, great long lines of people marched in a parade passed the palace to the thundering cheers of spectators. There were long, dull speeches, too, but Anakin didn’t pay those much attention. There were metals and awards for people, which was also boring. Still, Anakin stood nice and straight next to Obi-Wan, didn’t yawn even once, and tried to be so quiet and still that he was almost invisible.

But he was cold. Naboo wasn’t unbearably cold, but it was a lot colder than Tatooine. He didn’t show it, though. In fact, he was very pleased with how well he was hiding his discomfort until a warm weight fell over him. Obi-Wan’s brown robe. Anakin looked up, astonished, to find Obi-Wan smiling softly at him. Obi-Wan had draped one side of his robe over Anakin’s shoulders so they were sharing it.

The robe was very warm, but Anakin felt a stab of shame that he hadn’t been able to hide his weakness from Obi-Wan. He promised himself that he would do better. In the meantime, he stepped closer to Obi-Wan and tucked the robe around him a little closer. It was nice that Obi-Wan wanted to look after him. Not that Anakin NEEDED to be taken care of. He was very grown-up for his age and mature and sensible, but it was still kinda good to know that Obi-Wan wanted to take care of him. And Anakin was nice, so he would let Obi-Wan take care of him - just so Obi-Wan’s feelings wouldn’t be hurt, not because Anakin needed him to.

While everyone was watching the parade, Padme turned to them. “Obi-Wan, Anakin. Thank you for coming. I hope this isn’t too much for you right now. I meant what I said, Obi-Wan - you are under no obligation to be here. If you need to leave, please do so.”

Obi-Wan replied, “That’s kind, but this is important and we’re honored to support you.”

“Are you sure you won’t let one of my pilots escort you home?” Padme asked Obi-Wan. She was dressed in her real pretty clothes, the special ones that meant she was being a Queen instead of pretending she was a handmaiden. Either way, Anakin liked her. He didn’t care who she wanted to be or what she dressed like. She might be old - a whole fourteen years old! - but she was always so kind.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said. “But I can take us home and it wouldn’t be right to take one of your people away when there is so much work to be done here. I wouldn’t keep anyone away from their home and family at such a time. I do thank you for use of the ship. I will see that it is returned to you.”

“No need. Consider it a gift. The smallest of tokens to express the thanks of my people for what you’ve done for us.”

Obi-Wan bowed to her and Anakin, feeling very pleased with himself for realizing he should mimic Obi-Wan, bowed, too.

Padme smiled at Anakin and winked when she passed him a bag. He peeked inside and saw four whole cookies. He was quite embarrassed to take the bag - sugary treats were so rare and valuable! - and might have handed it back rather than to be so greedy as to take so much, but Obi-Wan said, “Don’t forget to say ‘thank you’. It would be rude to refuse a gift.”

Anakin clutched the bag to his chest because the last thing he wanted to be was rude to Padme. “Thank you.” And, because he was suddenly very sad to leave her, he lurched forward and gave Padme a hug. When he pulled back, he blurted out, “I’ll miss you. Will you come to visit Obi-Wan’s Temple? Obi-Wan said I’ll get a uniform to wear and he’s going to teach me to read and how to make tea. Will you come so I can show you?”

A queen, probably, shouldn’t kneel on the ground and probably shouldn’t do it when she was wearing very expensive looking clothes, but Padme knelt down and opened her arms wide. Anakin couldn’t resist the invitation and gave her another hug. “I will definitely come to visit you both in the Temple, if it is allowed. Sometimes, visiting can be difficult if life gets busy, but if I can’t visit, I may be able to send a message to Padawan Kenobi and he can show it to you. I won’t forget you.”

“I won’t forget you, too,” Anakin sniffled. He gave her another hug and didn’t want to let go. He had let go of his mom and he was so afraid he’d never get to hug her, again, so he hugged Padme even tighter. But it couldn’t last forever.

Obi-Wan muttered, only just loudly enough to hear, “Anakin... dear...”

And Anakin knew it was time. He let Padme go and went back to Obi-Wan, clutching the bag of cookies.

Padme got back to her feet and went to speak to the crowd. “And now, it is my greatest wish that while we rebuild, while we heal our wounds, and strive forward, that we will all wish a safe journey to our esteemed friends,” she gestured to Obi-Wan and Anakin and, suddenly feeling so many eyes on him, pressed closer to Obi-Wan and wondered if he’d be forgiven if he slipped behind him to hide. He didn’t risk it. Obi-Wan, with his face almost entirely hidden by the hood pulled low over his brow, looked so dignified, so strong that Anakin didn’t want to disappoint him. Padme continued, “Our Jedi friends have sacrificed much for us and we must always remember them - especially ultimate sacrifice that was given for us.”

Padme kept talking - she was very good at it, in Anakin’s opinion - and every person in the audience, all those hundreds and hundreds of people, were focused entirely on her. They didn’t see, as Anakin did, two medics and five guards pushing a stasis pod to one of the very few ships on the landing field instead of in the hanger. Without any attention on them, they took the stasis pod into the ship and, a few minutes later, left the ship without it.

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan and even with Obi-Wan’s face shadowed by his hood, Anakin could see him watching the same ship Anakin had been. Obi-Wan’s shields were like stone walls, but Anakin knew Obi-Wan was sad, even if he looked so very calm. And, not for the first time, he felt desperately small and stupid because he wanted to help, but he didn’t know how.

Obi-Wan had clearly been sheltered all his life and was very naive and didn’t know how easily people died. To be so shocked at a death... Anakin had gotten used to people dying a long time ago. Anakin knew. He’d seen lots of people die and, now, he had killed people, too. Well. That just meant that Anakin would have to take extra care to look out for Obi-Wan.

He tugged Obi-Wan’s sleeve and, when Obi-Wan looked down, Anakin held up the bag of cookies. “Do you want one?”

For the first time since the whole huge ceremony started, Obi-Wan pulled his hood back and smiled. “Maybe later. Thank you, though.”

It was shortly after that when Padme called an end to the ceremony and people began to leave. While Anakin stayed at his side, Obi-Wan gave brief good-bye to the politicians and other officials who stayed to see them off before he finally gave a very respectful farewell to Padme.

“Thank you for everything,” he told Padme. “Especially for your kindness towards Master Qui-Gon. I wish you and your people all the best.”

“And I wish you a safe journey back to the Jedi Temple. Be well. My thoughts are with you.”

With one last little wave to Padme, Anakin followed Obi-Wan to the ship Padme had given them. He stayed as close to Obi-Wan as he could as there were a lot of people staring at them. No one tried to hurt them or even spoke to them - in fact, all of them seemed to deliberately keep a wide space between themselves and Obi-Wan. It was like they were afraid of him, but that silly because it was Obi-Wan and Anakin couldn’t imagine anyone being afraid of Obi-Wan.

The ship was lovely - all sleek and shining with sharp angles - but Anakin blinked and he was back in the space battle and he’d killed people in a ship so similar the one they’d be traveling on. He could see the ship he blew up, all shattered into pieces and flying through space like someone had dropped a giant jigsaw puzzle and he felt all those deaths and it was his fault... his fault!

A big hand landed on his shoulder and Anakin blinked, suddenly back in front of the ship. Obi-Wan had put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder and looked down at him. “Are you alright?”

There were still so many people around watching, staring, and Anakin felt silly just standing there with an audience. They couldn’t just stand around on the ship’s ramp, Anakin knew that, but he really didn’t want to go on the ship and go back to space. He also didn’t want Obi-Wan to leave him behind. He didn’t want to be scared. With his fear so overwhelming that even his bones felt cold, Anakin licked his dry lips. The ship didn’t look so beautiful, anymore. It looked dangerous.

“Please,” Obi-Wan said. “Won’t you talk to me? I’ll try to help.”

Anakin glanced around at the people watching them, then motioned for Obi-Wan to lean closer. When he did, Anakin whispered, “Will there be more fighting when we go into space?”

“Oh.” Obi-Wan's eyes were soft. “I didn’t even think you might be scared. I’m sure we don’t have to worry about fighting. The Trade Federation has gone and as soon as we’re in hyperspace it’ll be a quick trip to the Temple, only a few days.”

“I’m not scared!” He remembered what that small Jedi Master had said about how scared Anakin was and he knew it must be a very bad thing for a Jedi to be scared. So he marched right passed Obi-Wan and into the ship and tried really hard not to think about the people he’d killed. Anakin wiped his eyes with the back of his hand that wasn’t holding the cookies. “And I’m not gonna cry, either! It’s too cold here and it makes my eyes water, that’s all. I’m not a baby!”

“I understand.” Obi-Wan followed him into the ship and pressed the controls next to the entrance to close the ramp. When it was done and the ship was sealed, Obi-Wan said, “Sometimes, my eyes water from the cold, too.”

On the ship, they checked on Mister Jinn to make sure he was safe. His stasis pod had been stored in the back on the ship, not in a hold, but in one of several bedrooms. It was anchored to the floor to keep it stable during flight and all the lights on the stasis pod’s control panel were lit up green which, Anakin guessed by Obi-Wan’s solemn nod after examining it, meant that everything was working as it should. The stasis pod was almost entirely made of white metal except for a small window at Master Jinn’s face. It looked like he was sleeping in the tube. Obi-Wan put his hand against that window for a moment and closed his eyes. Then he stepped briskly away.

“Come along, Anakin. Time for us to get underway.”

The cockpit was big enough that it had two seats and Anakin plopped himself into one, sitting on his knees so he could look out the window and wave one last time at Padme. They were in space in seconds and Naboo was left behind them. For a short time, Anakin waited, tense and unhappy to see if ghosts would appear to punish him for what he’d done, but there were only stars, minute noises from the ship, and Obi-Wan. No ghosts. Slowly, Anakin relaxed.

“Can I fly the ship?”

Obi-Wan shot him an astounded look. “You’re nine. No.”

“But I already flew one spaceship.”

“Yes, and from what I heard you did a very good job.”

“And I could probably repair anything on this one.”

“I’m very glad. You’ll be a big help if something goes wrong.”

“And Master Jinn said I could be a Jedi.”

“He had a lot of hope for you.”

“Then I can fly?”

“You’re nine. No.”

Anakin decided to sulk.

Less than an hour later, Obi-Wan looked even more sick. He looked so bad that Anakin guessed Padme wouldn’t have let them leave Naboo if she saw how sick Obi-Wan was. His skin was almost white and he swayed a little in his seat, as if he couldn’t stay quite upright. But he didn’t complain at all. Finally, Obi-Wan announced, “I still can’t contact the Jedi Council. Whatever went wrong with the communications on Naboo obviously affected this ship, too. I don’t think there’s any point in wasting more time trying, again. We’re going to go to hyperdrive, now. Are you ready?”

Eagerly, Anakin nodded and clutched at the armrests of the co-pilot’s seat.

Obi-Wan pressed a few buttons, pulled several levers, and finally activated the hyperdrive and... nothing. For a moment, the two of them just sat there, staring at the control panel. They exchanged a glance.

“It’s broken,” Anakin said.

“Yes. It does seem to be. How very surprising. Padme told me that her people went over every inch of this ship to ensure that... to...” He put hand to his head and winced a little. “Ah. Yes. As I was saying, Padme said her people had done a full maintenance check on the ship. I’m shocked they missed something like this.”

Anakin jumped to his feet. “You should rest. I’ll go fix it.”

“That’s a nice thought, but I’m pretty sure the hyperdrive is on the outside of the ship. We can’t reach it from here.”

“Sure it is, but there’s an interior access hatch on this model of ship. I can do it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure I’m sure!” And Anakin ran off. He found the access hatch easily enough, but it was a little tricky to get it loose. He had to find the right tools and that took a bit of time. Then, just as he had found the tools and opened the hatch, the whole ship rocked like crazy and Anakin was sent tumbling. He curled himself into a ball and rolled. He banged into a wall and when he came to a stop and tried to stand up, the ship rocked, again, and he fell to his knees with a sharp pain that shot from his knees right down to his toes.

Obi-Wan shouted, “Pirates!”

Anakin sprinted back to the cockpit and managed to get there without falling, again. He leapt into his seat and Obi-Wan snapped,

“Buckle your harness! Quick, now!”

Another blast struck them and the ship rocked so violently that Obi-Wan, who had apparently not buckled his harness, was jerked forward and his head slammed down on the control panel and bounced hard enough that Anakin could practically feel it. Obi-Wan started to raise his head, but the moment he moved his eyes rolled and he passed out. There was blood all of his face, leaking from his nose and from a long cut on his forehead.

Anakin stared.

Obi-Wan didn’t move.

“Obi? Wake up.” He reached over and shook Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Come on. Wake up.”

But Obi-Wan didn’t wake up and the pirates kept firing.

Dead. Obi-Wan was gonna be dead. Just like Master Jinn and all those people Anakin had killed and Anakin was so scared. There was more blaster fire, the terrible other ships were getting closer and they just kept shooting and Anakin really didn’t want to kill more people, but Obi-Wan needed him and Anakin had promised to protect him! With his hands shaking, Anakin unbuckled his harness and leaned forward to grab the controls. He had to. Obi-Wan needed him.

‘Don’t be scared,’ he told himself. ‘Gotta do it. Gonna be a Jedi and be brave. Gotta do it!’ But his eyes were burning with tears and he didn’t want to kill more people. He moved his thumbs to the controls of the blasters and took a deep breath.

But then another ship, a completely different type of ship than the pirate ships, zoomed overhead and charged at the pirates, firing madly. The new ship destroyed one of the pirate ships within seconds and, just like that, all the pirates focused their efforts on the newcomer.

A voice that sounded decidedly like Master Jinn told Anakin, ‘The hyperdrive! Go! Now’s the time!’

Anakin raced back to the hyperdrive’s access hatch. As he hadn’t had time to close it when the pirates had attacked, it was still open and one quick glance showed him the trouble. He reattached two wires and flipped a switch and knew it was fixed. He ran back to the cockpit where Obi-Wan was trying to wake up, but his face was all bloody and he was shaking a lot.

Anakin didn’t know the coordinates for the Jedi Temple, but he knew they had to get away from the pirates. His fingers hovered over the controls, trying to figure out what to put in, but he didn’t know the coordinates for any system, it had never been necessary for him to learn. If he did the wrong thing, they’d end up in the middle of a planet or a sun or something!

‘Trust in The Force.’ Again, it was a voice that sounded an awful lot like Master Jinn.

Anakin closed his eyes. “Okay,” he said. “Force, you pick where we go!” And let his fingers fall onto the keys of the control panel and, for better or worse, he activated the hyperdrive. The battle and realspace faded into nothing and the stars raced by. All was quiet.

Obi-Wan groaned. “Anakin... what...?”

“It’s okay. It’s okay.” Anakin felt his heart start to slow as the raging battle was far away and no longer a danger. He took a glance at the controls and wondered where he was taking them. But then he looked at Obi-Wan, who had managed to sit up, but didn’t look like he was really all there. “Come on. You’re hurt. We gotta help you.” He took Obi-Wan’s hand and, with a little pleading, got Obi-Wan to stand so he could lead him back to one of the small bedrooms. He had Obi-Wan sit on the narrow bunk, then took some time to search for a medical kit. He found one and there were bandages, which was good because Obi-Wan was still bleeding. It just didn’t want to stop. Anakin used a bit of the blanket that was on the bed to try and wipe away the blood, but it just sort of smeared and looked really bad. But he used the bandages to cover up Obi-Wan’s cut forehead, then looked at the rest of the supplies in the medical kit. There were a lot of pills and powders and things in the kit and all of them were labeled, but Anakin couldn’t read the words and he was pretty sure that if he gave Obi-Wan the wrong medicine, it could make him even sicker. If only he’d found it sooner, then Obi-Wan would have known which thing to use to make himself better.

“Obi,” Anakin asked, “What do you need? I don’t know which one to use.” But when he looked back, Obi-Wan had laid down and was fast asleep.

Anakin touched Obi-Wan’s forehead and it was very, very warm. That meant he was really sick - mom had said so - and he should sleep. Sleeping made everything better. Anakin pulled the blanket up over Obi-Wan and made sure he was covered up well. Then, Anakin sat down next to Obi-Wan’s bed, pulled his knees up to his chest and tried really, really hard not to cry for a long time.

After some time, the ship gave a little lurch when it fell out of hyperspace. Anakin held his breath, but the ship was still and there was no sound of blaster fire. He stood up and looked at Obi-Wan who shivered under the blanket. Anakin found another blanket for him, but it didn’t seem to help.

Anakin went back to the cockpit. He had no idea where they were or if there were any Jedi around who could help them, but he had to do something. The communication system was broken. That at least gave him a place to start. Anakin found the workings of the communications system and, while it took a little time as he wasn’t used to that type of ship, he managed to find the problem and fix it. At least, he hoped he’d fixed it.

“And,” he said to himself as he got into the pilot’s seat. “I won’t know it’s fixed until I try it.” He activated the communicator and set it to broadcast in as wide a field as possible in the hopes of getting someone’s attention. He took a deep breath, then said, as steadily as he could, “We need help, please. I don’t know where we are and we need help. Is anyone there?”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: A Protector

Herna-

She waited until her boy’s ship took off and then waited longer to make sure he was well into space and not returning. Soon, the gathered people who had assembled for the Naboo celebration dispersed and, when the area was as empty as it was going to be, she lifted off and began her pursuit of her boy. With luck, all the Naboo people were too busy to be curious about her ship and there would be no Naboo ships sent after her.

She saw the pirates attacking her boy’s ship and instantly her vision bled to red and every cell in her body screamed to fight. His ship was disabled - she had made sure of that - and he would never be able to outfight six pirate ships. Opportunistic mud slime! They’d come to reap profit off the war on Naboo and her poor, innocent boy was caught in their sights.

She barreled over her boy’s ship and into the fray, firing her ship’s canons almost non-stop as she dove and whirled around the enemy. A hit and a hit and a hit, she took them out, turning them into nothing more than debris one at a time until they were gone.

The battle over, Herna went still and felt the blood rushing in her ears, her whole self on high alert as she waited for more enemies to appear, but none did. All was quiet. Herna took a breath, then another. She felt her heart slow and the adrenalin rush from the battle faded to nothing.

She was alone.

Her boy’s ship was gone.

“No.” The word was a whisper as she turned all her sensors to maximum range, but not one of them could detect anything. Hyperspace. They’d gone into hyperspace. Her precious boy had clearly fixed what she had broken - such a clever boy, but terrible timing. He should have waited. She would have protected him. Frightened. He’d been frightened, so he’d run. Of course. A normal reaction from any child. But her fist pounded the console of her ship with frustration. “Where? Where did you go, my boy?”

The communicator on Herna’s console began to flash, the signal that someone was trying to contact her. She pressed the button to activate only the audio and a voice, familiar and grave, spoke.

“You have failed to make contact within the expected time. Your client contacted us with a complaint that you’d broken the contract. Have you encountered difficulties?”

She should respond. They were expecting it. Herna opened her mouth. They could help. If anyone could find her boy, her people would surely be able to. But she looked at the co-pilot’s seat where her helmet sat and a chill ran down her spine.

Quick as lightening, she turned off the communicator and refocused on what was most important. She looked out the cockpit window at where her boy’s ship had been. “I’ll find you. I found you once, I’ll find you again. No one will keep us apart.”

Naboo-
Palpatine-

Only hours after the celebrations on Nabbo had ended and Palpatine’s future apprentices flew off to return to the Jedi Temple, he sat at his desk in his office in the Naboo palace and contemplated the future while he absently went over some of the tedious paperwork necessary to keep up appearances as a senator. He really didn’t care about any of it - rebuilding, medical relief, or any of the other details that had landed on his desk. Young Kenobi and the Skywalker boy were of far more interest. The potential each of them had, their usefulness, was almost limitless.

He was rather pleased with how things were working out. All he had to do was be patient and make a few little changes here and there, and, before anyone could know what he was doing, the Republic would be remade in his image.

One hour after the communication systems of Naboo had been repaired, a flashing light on his desk indicated that he was being contacted by the only person on the planet that he couldn’t yet afford to dismiss - Queen Amidala. He frowned at it. Tiresome. To be answerable to a half-grown child was insufferable, but he couldn’t afford to give up this disguise and if he did ignore her, there would be questions he didn’t feel like answering. After all, there were certain formalities before he was no longer a senator and became the Chancellor.

With a press of a button, Queen Amidala’s face appeared as an image on the monitor of his work area. “Your Majesty, what may I...”

“Senator, we have an emergency and I would appreciate your support in this matter. As soon as our communications troubles were solved, I attempted to contract our Jedi friends to see that their journey was proceeding well. I am unable to contact them. After a review of the satellites monitoring Naboo territory, which had been recording all the time our communications were out, we found that they’d been attack just a short distance away.”

The image changed from the Queen’s face to space where the ship Queen Amidala had given to Padawan Kenobi flew slowly away from the planet. Suddenly, there were several other ships, none quite alike and none of them in any great repair. They fired mercilessly on Padawan Kenobi’s ship until yet another ship appeared, soaring over Padawan Kenobi’s ship and rushing into the fray with all guns firing. That single ship destroyed one ship, then turned its' fierce attention on the others. The moment all the attacking ships focused their firepower on the newcomer, Padawan Kenobi’s ship surged into hyperspace and was gone in a flash.

“The attackers don’t appear to be from the Trade Federation. Do you know of any other forces in this area who may want to attack the Jedi or us?”

“None.” He nearly snarled. It would be too great a shame to lose those boys before he could use them.

“Then we must assume that the attackers are pirates who came to Naboo looking for easy prey during our time of trouble. We have no idea where our friends have gone. Will you stand with me while I contact the Jedi Council?”

“Of course.”

Only moments later, he walked into the Naboo throne room where Queen Amidala sat regally on her throne while her handmaidens, all in their red robes, flanked her. The Queen, as was customary, was painted with heavy make-up and dressed in a multitude of bright colors while her long hair was done up in an elaborate headdress. She nodded to him when he walked in. The moment he stood at the side of the room Queen Amidala indicated for one of her handmaidens to begin the transmission to the Jedi. It took several minutes before they were put in contact with the Jedi Council and Palpatine stood back to watch and listen.

Mace Windu answered, as stern and foreboding as he ever was. “Your Majesty. How may the Jedi help you?”

“I’m afraid I have some unpleasant news for you, Master Windu.” Queen Amidala told him of the Battle for Naboo, of Skywalker’s exploits in the battle, of Master Jinn’s death, and how Padawan Kenobi and Skywalker had safely left Naboo. “It is my terrible duty to inform you that we have only just regained control of our planet’s communications and, therefore, have only just learned that Padawan Kenobi and Anakin were attacked by pirates shortly after leaving Naboo. Our recordings show that they were assisted by someone before they were able to go into hyperspace, but we wished to know if they had been able to return to Coruscant.”

If he felt anything at all about the situation, Windu didn’t show any of it in his expression. “No,” he answered. “We haven’t been in contact with Padawan Kenobi since he arrived at Naboo. We will, of course, be looking for him and we will inform you as soon as we know anything.”

Palpatine smiled and stepped forward, though he had no hope at all of luring Windu into complacency. “We would be very grateful for any news you find. For my own part, I have a great appreciation for both of those boys and would hate to see anything unfortunate happen to them.”

Windu regarded him blankly. “Of course. I doubt there is anything to worry about. Padawan Kenobi is an excellent pilot and a very capable padawan. I have the utmost confidence in his abilities to get to them home.” He leaned forward a little, with his hands folded in front of him, as was his habit when discussing important matters, and looked intently at the Queen. “You mentioned that Master Jinn died in the power generator and that Padawan Kenobi retrieved his body from there.”

“Yes. He took the time to give us a verbal recording of the events as they transpired. If it will be of any help, I can have those recordings transmitted to the Temple.”

Windu nodded. “That will be a great deal of help. May I ask, was Padawan Kenobi injured during the battle? Did he submit to an exam by one of your physicians?”

“No. He was more concerned with Master Jinn and, of course, ensuring that the boy, Skywalker, was taken care of.”

“Did Skywalker go into the power generator?”

Queen Amidala’s expression didn’t change, she was far too well trained to let surprise disrupt any type of political meeting and this, informal though it was, had political implications. Still, Palpatine did notice her fingers tighten, briefly where they rested on the arms of her throne. “No. He was elsewhere during the battle and while I believe he may require counseling for what he went through, to my knowledge, he didn’t suffer any physical harm.”

Slowly, Windu nodded. “Your power generators... what are they powered by?”

“Arkon Waves.”

And Palpatine nearly grinned when he saw the tiniest spark in Windu’s eyes that betrayed him. Windu knew what had happened and he, like Palpatine, knew that Kenobi was not dealing with a simple cold or flu. He watched Windu exchange a look with another Master sitting next to him in the Council Chamber that, while Palpatine could see the tension between the two men, was surely only a casual look to Queen Amidala. She was no fool, however, and Palpatine knew very well that she was more than a little fond of Kenobi and Skywalker.

Queen Amidala’s voice hardened. “May I ask the significance of how our power generators operate?”

“Yes,” Palpatine said. At such a distance, he did not bother to hide his emotions - there was no way that any of Jedi could read him from so far away and he had worked long and hard to ensure that no one in the Queen’s Court had any Force sensitivity. He was safe so long as he kept his face innocent and pretended he had no idea why Kenobi had been growing ill since leaving the power generator. While Skywalker’s story about how Kenobi was ill might have been a lie, there could be no doubt that Kenobi had certainly been ill during the earlier celebrations and Palpatine had guessed almost at once what was happening to him. “If there’s anything we can do for them, I can speak for all of Naboo when I say that we’re willing to do it. I certainly hope we haven’t caused some unintentional harm to the dear young man.”

As ever, Windu remained entirely calm. “There has been no harm done and nothing for you to worry about. I had hoped that the energy you used for your power generators might have had some odd effect that would explain why Padawan Kenobi’s ship failed to go to hyperspace immediately, but Akron Waves would do nothing of the sort. I suppose Padawan Kenobi was merely taking time to make sure Skywalker was settled before he made the jump - it can be disorienting the first few times one makes that jump.”

It was an utter lie, Palpatine knew. Jedi could lie as well as anyone else and that was a lie. Windu, as a Jedi, knew exactly what Arkon Waves could do to Kenobi and what would happen if they didn’t find him, soon. While Palpatine didn’t want to lose one of his future apprentices, he couldn’t deny some curiosity of finding out how Kenobi would deal with the effects of Arkon Waves.

Elsewhere-
Jaster Mereel-

On the star cruiser, Bral, Jaster Mereel sat in his cabin - a modest affair with little but a bunk, a table, a chair, and storage for his armor - Jaster sat at the table with his computer in front of him and he typed. He wrote about the meetings with various clans and how those had worked out, about several challenge battles he’d fought and won to get agreements from this family or that person. He wrote about uneventful travels and a few small skirmishes here and there. He even took time to try to write a speech for his forthcoming coronation, but got all of three sentences in before he gave up on it. He just wasn’t one to make speeches. So he turned his mind, instead, to plans for the future of Mandalore.

He heard the door slide open and looked over to find Jango, his dear foundling, his son, standing in the doorway. Naturally, Jango wore his armor, but he held his helmet in one hand. He asked Jango, “Anything wrong on the command deck?”

“No. It’s horribly boring, in fact. Everyone is attending to their duties with all the diligence and competence you could wish for. As a result, there’s nothing for me to do. What are you doing?”

“Just some notes for my meeting with the young duchess. If I have to do this, then I’d like it to go off without a hitch.”

Jango walked in and, after the door had slid closed behind him, sat on Jaster’s bed. “Do you suppose this will work? Ruling Mandalore with the aid of a pacifist? It’s never been done before. Sounds weird. A pacifist?”

Jaster nearly laughed at how the word ‘pacifist’ made Jango’s nose wrinkle. “I’ve examined her history, education, and character. She will be an excellent assistant. She has a solid understanding of many details that will make all of our lives easier - such as diplomacy, economics, and the power-play that is politics.”

Jango snorted. “Assistant? You do understand that she was planning to be the sole ruler of the Mandalorian Empire, but she could only get a small fraction of our people to follow her. And whoever told her that trying to turn Mandalorians into pacifists was a good idea? Someone really lied to her. Now you turn up and all her hopes are gone. She might try to betray you in revenge.”

“Don’t be silly.” Jaster snorted at the very idea. “She seemed like a very nice girl when I spoke with her. True, her ideas are a little... well... odd. You can’t blame her for the bizarre way her father chose to raise her. I’m sure she’ll be very competent. I have great hopes that she’ll deal with all the politics so I won’t have to.”

Jango laughed. “If you don’t like that part of the job, then I guess you shouldn’t have been such a competent leader, huh? Now you’ve got to deal with the fallout of having people respect you and want to follow you.”

“You’re a little brat, know that?”

“I’m twenty-three and old enough to see that you’re kind of regretting a few things in your life, right now.” He grinned, wickedly. “You know - all those things that led you to politics.”

“Hardly my fault if everyone who actually wants to be a politician is unfit.” If there had been any other person fit to take the position of Mand’alor, then Jaster certainly wouldn’t have done it. But the other choices were a lunatic who wanted to kill everyone he met and a young girl whose family hadn’t even raised her as a proper Mandalorian - sending her to Coruscant for schooling, of all things! - and, therefore, didn’t even know how to fight enough to defend herself - the poor little dear.

“Face it,” Jango leaned back a little on Jaster’s bed and kept looking at him in the annoying way that person who didn’t have to deal with politics could. “You went and wrote the best philosophy for our people, the only one who could blend all factions and clans together, that would keep our culture and give us peace. Who else would the people accept as Mand’alor? We all adore you.”

“I’ll have you scrubbing latrines for the next month, brat. Show a little respect.”

“I have all the respect in the world for you, father. You are the greatest warrior, the most brilliant researcher, and the most compassionate person I have ever met.” Jango went to Jaster and, without even a hint of teasing in his voice, knelt in front of him and said, “When my family was murdered, you took me in and since that day I have never wanted for love. I know that my parents can rest easily as they march onward knowing that I call you ‘father’.”

“My heart is touched.” Jaster leaned forward a little and put a fond hand on Jango’s dark curls. “Given all the respect you have for me, then you’ll be very happy to support my choice in training Satine Kryze to become my successor.”

Jango rolled his eyes and got to his feet. He let out a groan. “She’s not even a real Mandalorian! The people will never support her. She wears no armor, I never heard her say a single word of Mando’a, she’s never served her verd’goten, or sworn the resol’nare. No one will ever willingly follow someone who calls themselves a Mandalorian, but doesn’t actually live it.”

Jaster stood up from his desk and stretched his arms over his head. “Gosh. That’s a real pity. Because that means I’ll have to choose another successor.”

“That’s right.” Jango planted both fists on his hips. “Anyone will be more accepted than that girl!”

“Well, I suppose that means you’ll do a fine job, then.”

“What?”

“Let me put it simply for you, my darling son - there will be a Mand’alor after me and it will either be her or,” he leaned forward and gave Jango a poke on the chest. “you.”

The look on Jango’s face was one of pure horror. “Oh... no!”

“Oh, yes. You, too, are very competent. You’re well respected. I’m sure you’ll make an excellent Mand’alor.”

In an instant, Jango stood at attention with his back as firm as stone. “I seem to have changed my opinion, father. You are absolutely correct - Duchess Kryze will be a fine Mand’alor, after training, and I will do my part to support her.”

Jaster patted Jango’s cheek. “I knew you’d see it my way.”

Jango opened his mouth to argue, as he so enjoyed doing, when an alert on Jaster’s computer caught his attention. “Hold that rant,” he told Jango, absently. “I have a call.” He reached out and hit the button to connect him with whoever was trying to communicate with him and the face of a young, blonde hair girl appeared. She was a few years younger than Jango and dressed very ornately with a great many bright colors. “Hello, Duchess Kryze. How are you?”

She held herself very stiffly, not a hint of emotion on her face. “I am well, thank you for asking. I am organizing the arrangements here in Keldabe. May I ask if you know when I should expect your arrival?”

It was a pity, Jaster thought, that such a young girl should be put in a position of great responsibility without decent training. It wasn’t her fault, of course. Jaster put the blame for the girl’s fate squarely on her father’s shoulders. What kind of sad excuse for a parent sent their child away to be educated by other people? And people who weren’t even Mandalorian? It wasn’t as if he’d sent her away to a day school for some specialized training, he’d sent her away for years and then, when he’d let his ridiculous notions of pacifism get himself killed, his advisors had brought the girl back to inform her that she was no longer a carefree schoolgirl, but the leader of an empire. Such nonsense.

Well, at least she would have his support. The girl clearly needed a strong parental figure.

He answered her, “Not long now. We’ve visited the bigger clans and no one has any great objections, other than those that we expected to.”

“Any news about Death Watch?”

“Oh, the usual threats and grandstanding. My people will be in Keldabe in force. If they try anything, we'll be there.”

She didn’t look reassured, but he hadn’t really expected her to. A lifetime without any martial training at all and, from what he could tell from their few communications, she didn’t carry even a single weapon. No wonder she worried about Death Watch. Well, as soon as he arrived, he’d take the girl in hand... no matter what those incompetent advisors wanted. She would be well able to fight by the time he finished her education. Jango would surely like to have a little sister.

“Very well,” the Duchess Kryze said. “We will expect you soon.”

“I look forward to meeting for the first time face-to-face.” The transmission ended then and Jaster said, “It's shameful the way she was so neglected. Little Satine is clearly terrified of what her position demands of her.”

“Are you sure? She looked pretty confident to me.”

Jaster waved a hand to dismiss the idea. “Obviously a mask she wears to protect herself. She’s scared and needs to be taken care of. I think she was a bit pale, too. Possibly needs to be fed better.”

Jango hung his head and rubbed his face with his hands. “Father...”

“What? There’s no one taking an interest in her. Someone needs to do it. She clearly needs guidance and education as much as she needs care.”

“Are you considering...” Jango looked closely at Jaster, then his eyes went wide. “You are, aren’t you? Have you even asked if she wants to be adopted?!”

“Well, not yet, but of course I’ll ask her. I can’t imagine she’d refuse. I thought I’d ask when we get back to Mandalore and she and I have our meeting.”

Jango put both hands in his hair and looked like he was ready to pull it out. “That’s only hours from now! I can’t believe my own father is doing this to me! How could you? Honestly! I never guessed you could be so thoughtless.”

The outrage in Jango’s voice and fury in his eyes truly shocked Jaster. “What’s this all about? You’ve always wanted a sibling.”

“Well, yes, but you can’t just surprise me like this! How am I supposed to get her a good ‘welcome to the family’ present with so little time?!” Jango huffed. “You just wait and see - someday, I’m going come home with about three million foundlings I adopted without giving you any warning and then we’ll see how you like it!”

Jaster felt his heart warm and a pleased smile settled on his face. “Three million grandchildren... lovely.”

The communicator on Jaster’s vambrace started flashing and he tapped it. “Yes?”

“Alor,” one of Jaster’s crew spoke up. “We have a distress signal. Doesn’t appear to be coming from a known Mandalorian ship and it’s on the edge of Mandalorian territory, but we are reasonably close. You should probably come to the command deck.”

Jango said, “The Solstice Storm is due to strike any time. A ship in distress won’t fare well in it.”

Jaster nodded. “On my way.”

With Jango at his side, Jaster made his way to the command deck of the Bral. The ship was big, easily big enough to carry the several hundred commando’s who followed him, and was as well armed as anyone would expect a Mandalorian ship to be. The interior of the ship was somber gray metal which only made the brightly colored Mandalorian armor stand out more. The sound of moving metal - scraping against other metal, clanging, rattling - as Jaster’s armored people moved filled the ship and was a comforting sound to a man who had spent his whole life surrounded by armor.

When they finally arrived at the command deck of the Bral, it was silent and Jaster’s good humor left him entirely. If it were a battle about to get underway, his people would be far more excited. But there was silence and when he stepped into the room, every armored head turned to look at him for a moment before looking back at their post. Jango went tense at Jaster’s side, but that was no different than everyone else on the command deck. The atmosphere was so uneasy that it was almost tangible. Every commando - all of them experienced and stable warriors - held themselves so stiffly that it looked almost painful. Of course, they still went about their duties at their stations, but Jaster didn’t miss how their attention was obviously on him the moment he stepped onto the command deck.

“We heard and recorded the transmission, alor,” the warrior whose duty it was to monitor the communication station said. “That was when we contacted you. It’s audio, only.”

“Let’s hear it.” Jaster went to lean over the communications monitor.

A moment later, a voice - slightly broken up with static and speaking in Basic - said, “We need help, please. I don’t know where we are and we need help. Is anyone there?” There was a pause. “The ships kinda busted up. We need help. Please.”

Jaster felt his breath catch. “That’s a child.”

“A very young child.” Jango nearly growled out the words and Jaster looked over to see his son pacing the deck with his fingers clenching and unclenching at his sides. Understandable, as a child was in danger. In fact, Jaster knew very well that it was the source of all the tension on the command deck as his people were itching to find the child and ensure his safety and it was no surprise after hearing that dear little voice, ringing with fear and desperation. “How far away are we?” Jango asked the helmsman.

“I’m working on that now.”

Jaster wanted nothing more than to race to the child and find out what was wrong, to make the child safe. He took off his helmet. “Are they still transmitting?”

“Not right now. I’ve been trying to trace their signal so we can contact them and head to their location.”

“Good job.” Because any True Mandalorian, anyone with any conscience, would want to run to the child’s aid and Jaster certainly didn’t have enough of an ego to demand that his people wait for his order to do the right thing.

It took a few minutes and as it did, the level of anxiety on the command deck continued to grow and grow.

Finally, after a Hellish three minutes of waiting, “We’ve got it, alor! Speak when you’re ready.”

Jaster switched from speaking Mando’a to Basic and spoke loud and clear. “Unknown ship, this is the Bral. Can you respond? I repeat - can you respond?”

It seemed that every breath was held until, “I’m here. Can you help us? There were pirates.”

The tension on the command deck was nearly unbearable. A child in danger and, if the child was the one making the distress call instead of an adult, they were in truly dire straits. Jaster silently nodded at Jango who quietly spoke to the helmsman and the Bral was on its' way to the rescue mission.

“We can help,” Jaster assured the child. “We’ve got a lock on your location and we’ll be there as soon as we can.” He went to sit down in the command seat. “Keep talking to me. I’m Jaster Mereel. Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Anakin. Are you sure you’re coming? There were pirates, but we jumped to hyperspace and I don’t think they can find us. You got some medicine? We need something for fevers... and lots of bleeding.”

Jango tapped a button on his forearm’s armor and spoke quietly enough to hopefully not worry the child. “Doctor Gihan? We’re heading to a rescue mission. A child’s requesting medical assistance, so better get ready.”

Doctor Gihan’s gravely voice answered, “I’m on my way.”

Jaster continued to focus on Anakin. “We’ll have some medicine for you. Anything you need. Can you tell me if the fever is from sickness or your injury?”

One of Jaster’s people growled at the idea of the child being injured, but she quickly schooled herself and turned back to the weaponry console she sat in front of.

Anakin said, “It’s not for me. I’m okay. I fixed the ship some, but we’re lost and now my brother’s sick and he hit his head when the pirates attacked. He won’t wake up.”

“Alright. We’ll take care of everything as soon as we get there. Are your parents with you? Or a guardian?”

“Mom’s on Tatooine.” The signal frizzled and was lost for a moment. “We came from Naboo and...” Another burst of static. “... We have to go Coruscant and...” Static.

“Lonhi,” Jango spoke up before Jaster could. “Get him back!”

“I’m trying, sir! The approaching Solstice Storm is getting closer and isn’t helping matters, but it’s not so strong that it should be causing this sort of... hold it.” And his hands raced across the controls of console he sat at. “There! I got him. The problem seems to be something on his end.”

The child’s voice came back, “Are you still there? I think the communicator got broken by...” static. “...gimme a minute. I can fix it.” Jaster heard what he thought were sparks and something getting knocked over.

“Anakin? Are you alright?”

“Yup. It was only a little fire. It’s out, now.”

“Mand’alor,” The helmsman said, keeping his voice soft. “We’re nearly in visual range.”

What they came upon was clearly a Naboo ship, in all its' shiny glory. It was small, build for only a couple of people, and absolutely dwarfed by the Bral. There were very clear signs of the battle with pirates Anakin spoke of, burns mostly, but it did look reasonably intact. They were lucky to have made it out of battle with so little damage.

“We’ve found you, Anakin,” Jaster said. “Can you see us? Try looking out the cockpit window.”

“I can see you. Don’t forget the medicine!”

“We won’t. Just hold on a little longer and we’ll be there. We’re going to bring you onto our ship, so there will be a little shake when the tractor beam grabs your ship. You might want to sit down so you don’t fall.”

“’Kay. I’m sitting.”

It took only a few seconds to latch onto the unresisting ship and the moment they did, when it truly felt they had a secure hold of the Naboo ship, it seemed that every member of the crew let out a relieved sigh. But it wasn’t over and they all knew it. He heard them muttering and whispering.

“That voice - he couldn’t have been even ten years old!”

“Bleeding. He said his brother was bleeding. Another child? How old could the other one be?”

“Where are their guardians? They can’t be alone out here!”

Jaster didn’t interrupt their ponderings. The same questions ran through his mind and his stomach knotted up just thinking about how two children might have ended up alone in such danger and he knew that awful knot wouldn’t be eased until he had both of them safely on his ship.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Help Arrives

Obi-Wan-

“Master?”

Master Qui-Gon looked strangely blue and... a bit see-through. How odd. He strode though the room until he stood next to Obi-Wan and smiled so gently down at him. “Hello, Padawan.”

“Hello, Master. I don’t feel very well.”

Master Qui-Gon leaned down and stroked a warm hand over Obi-Wan’s hair. “I know. I’m so sorry. I tried to keep you out of the power generator when I realized where he was leading us, but you have always been so stubborn.” He said it without any censor and a fond smile. “My dear Padawan.”

What the power generator had to do with him feeling ill, Obi-Wan really didn’t know. His whole head seemed to be filled with cotton fluff. It sounded like he’d been disobedient and that made him sad. “I wanted to help you. To make you proud.”

“Silly boy,” Master Qui-Gon lightly ran his fingers over Obi-Wan’s braid. “You always make me proud. When you do nothing more than breathe, you make me proud.”

They sat like that for a time, quietly enjoying each other’s company. Obi-Wan was just happy to see his Master, but he was pretty sure he was forgetting something. Something important. It was so hard to remember... his head felt foggy. “Master... I think you’re dead.”

“From a certain point of view, I suppose I am.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“That’s good.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I was worried about it.”

“You always worry. Try to sleep.”

He wanted to be good and do what he was told, but there was something bothering him. He blinked and looked up at the ceiling. He was so cold. Obi-Wan reached up a hand and touched a damp bandage on his forehead. “What happened?” His memory was a rather fuzzy. “I think there was shooting. Anakin was yelling. I think. Maybe? Where’s Anakin? I need to take care of him. I promised.”

“Anakin will be fine.”

“I need to find Anakin.” Obi-Wan pushed himself up on his elbow, but his head started to spin, worryingly. “I think I’m sick.”

“Now, you just lay back down. Anakin is fine. He’s safe. And it’s not you who’s sick.”

Obi-Wan did what his Master told him. He reached out to his Master, but his hand seemed to pass right though Master Qui-Gon. “I don’t understand. You’re dead.”

“Yes. Close your eyes and rest. This is all good. This is for the best. It’ll be hard, but everything will be alright.”

“I want to go home.”

“Soon. Soon. Rest. I’m afraid there’s not much I can do to help you. When I died, you lost control for bit and it took quite a lot of my strength to help you stabilize and, as a result, I’m not strong enough to stay much longer, but I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I don’t feel well. Something’s wrong. What’s wrong with me?”

If Master Qui-Gon answered, Obi-Wan didn’t hear. He had already fallen back asleep.

Anakin-

From the cockpit of Obi-Wan’s ship, Anakin watched the huge ship that was dragging Obi-Wan's ship closer with its' tractor beam with a nervous, squirming sort of feeling in his belly. They were going to help. Jaster Mereel had said they were going to help. Anakin was very cold, but his hands were sweating. The other ship was very, very big and the person who’d spoken to him said they were going to help, but they must have been very powerful to have such a big ship.

A very powerful person with a very big ship that Anakin had allowed to grab hold of Obi-Wan’s ship. The other ship wasn’t a scrap ship, something found scavenged from a junkyard and rebuilt with bits and pieces of other ships. It was new and Anakin saw that it was in very good repair. That meant the person he’d spoken to was rich. Rich and powerful and maybe they weren’t nice. Rich and powerful were dangerous and scary.

He leaned forward a little in the co-pilot’s chair and gaped at the big ship pulling them in. The Bral. The other person said it was called the Bral. Anakin could see gun ports on the Bral. He knew how ships were built and he knew he was looking at a real strong ship. It had armor plating and looked like it held about a billion people - or maybe a couple of hundred.

Anakin bit his lip. Maybe... maybe he shouldn’t have called. Maybe he should have waited until Obi-Wan woke up.

What if Jaster Mereel had lied? What if he wasn’t really there to help? What if he was a slaver and Anakin had led them right to Obi-Wan? Obi-Wan didn’t know how to be a slave. He’d get hurt. They might just kill him because he was hurt and sick and slaves weren’t valuable enough for medicine.

Tears stung Anakin’s eyes.

He didn’t want to be a slave, again, but he REALLY didn’t want nice Obi-Wan to be a slave!

Obi-Wan had said that little Jedi’s were sometimes made into slaves because they were valuable, that’s why he hadn’t been too keen on braiding Anakin’s hair.

With a sudden desperate terror, Anakin scrambled at his braid, tugging it until the little tie fell out and he was able to unravel the braid Obi-Wan had so carefully given him. He pulled and yanked on the hair painfully until the braid was completely gone.

The big ship got closer.

Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan had a braid.

Anakin nearly fell out of the co-pilot’s seat in his rush to get to Obi-Wan. He tripped over his feet before he got out of the cockpit and then sprinted down the hall until he reached the room where he’d put Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan was still asleep and the blood was starting to leak through his bandage on his head. Instantly, Anakin reached for Obi-Wan’s braid where it lay like a sleeping snake on Obi-Wan’s pillow.

Not allowed.

Anakin froze with his fingers just inches away from Obi-Wan’s braid. It was forbidden. Obi-Wan said so. Only a padawan or their Master could touch their braid. It was very, very wrong for anyone else to touch it.

“Obi?” Anakin gave Obi-Wan’s shoulder a shake. “Come on, Obi. I think we’re in trouble.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered open and he slowly focused on Anakin. He smiled. “Hello.”

“Hi. Are you getting better, yet?”

Obi-Wan blinked, slowly, then closed his eyes and went back to sleep.

Anakin felt his whole body go even colder than it already was. He hopped from foot-to-foot and wrung his hands. He couldn’t touch Obi-Wan’s braid. It was a rule. A very important rule that mattered a lot to Obi-Wan. So, he patted Obi-Wan’s hand, then locked him in the room. He went back to the cockpit and found a blaster in a compartment under the pilot’s seat, where such useful things were often found. Anakin had no idea how to use a blaster, he’d never even touched one as not even the most confident of masters would give their slaves a weapon that could be used against them. But he had to try.

There was a sudden shake, a jerk hard enough that Anakin was knocked to his knees.

A pitiful whine escaped him.

“Anakin? Child?” He heard Jaster Mereel speaking over the communication system. “Can you hear me? You’re on our ship. Can you open the hatch of your ship? My people can force it open from out here, if we need to.”

Anakin climbed back into the co-pilot’s seat and looked out. The ship wasn’t in space. Instead, they were in a huge room. Anakin boosted himself up on his knees for a better look. The room was bigger than the hanger at Padme’s palace! And there were other ships in there, too. He looked down and, near Obi-Wan’s ship, there were a bunch of people and the sight of them gave him pause.

Mandalorians. He’d seen them before when they’d walked around the town on Tatooine in bright colored armor. Sometimes they would do business on Tatooine with the Bounty Hunter’s Guild or with Diamyo Jabba. His mom had spoke about rumors of Mandalorians and how their armor was so strong that nothing could hurt them.

‘What am I gonna do?’ Anakin looked at the useless blaster with despair. Then, he tightened his hands on it. ‘Not gonna be a slave... not again. Not ever. They’re bigger and stronger, but I can still fight!’

Jango-

On the command deck of the Bral, Jango waited, standing just next to where his father sat. Like the rest of the crew, his whole attention was focused on the ship they were towing into their hanger. He itched to do something, to help the children on that ship, but there was nothing to do but wait. He hated waiting.

Jango reached over and pressed the ‘mute’ button on the communicator so their guest wouldn’t hear before he said, “I think we should look for the pirates he spoke about. They might have been able to follow.”

“The storm is nigh, my child. We can’t stay long. We’re pressing our luck staying this long, but as the alternative is abandoning children out here... well.”

Of course, it was unthinkable to do any such thing. “We’ll be late for your meeting with Satine Kryze. I’ll let her know.”

Jaster nodded, his eyes firmly fixed on the ship drawing closer to them.

Jango took a seat at the communication station and sent the transmission to Satine Kryze’s office in Keldabe. He wasn’t entirely sure what to think of Satine Kryze. Anyone who claimed to be a Mandalorian AND a pacifist was, at the very best, confused. She had made it known that she wanted to outlaw fighting, make it illegal to even carry weapons or wear armor and that blasphemy was something Jango couldn’t swallow. The idea of going around entirely helpless and unable to defend himself was enough to make him feel sick. To give up his armor - the very thing that proudly proclaimed to the Universe that he was Mandalorian - was not something that would happen. They would have to kill him first.

The transmission to Satine Kryze connected and Jango was face with the sharp-faced young duchess. If nothing else, he knew his father was right about one thing - her father had done her no favors by having her raised and educated off Mandalore. Obviously whatever school she’d been going to on Coruscant had given her weird ideas.

“Duchess Kryze. I’m Jango Fett.”

She nodded, crisply. “Yes. Jaster Mereel’s foundling. He’s spoken highly of you. How can I help you?”

“I just needed to tell you that he might be a bit late for your meeting. We intercepted a distress call near the border of Mandalorian Territory. It shouldn’t be long. We’re towing their ship into the hanger, now.”

“I understand. Thank you for - “

“Unacceptable!” There was a man suddenly standing behind where the duchess sat. He had put both hands on the back of her chair and leaned over her shoulder. “This is inexcusable! The Duchess Kryze is already making time in her busy schedule to meet with that savage!”

It would surprise no one who knew him that Jango’s temper rose to solar levels at the first hint of an insult to his buir and he had opened his mouth, ready to put the man - whoever he was! - in his place, when a voice as cold as dark space spoke.

“I beg your pardon.” The duchess turned her head, just an inch or so, and spoke with a voice that should have been too soft to be heard by the shouting man, but it had silenced him in an instant. The two of them stared at each other for a long, drawn out moment until the man bowed his head and stepped out of view. She looked back at Jango. “Forgive the interruption. My father’s advisors seem to be rather enthusiastic today. As I was saying, it is entirely understandable and,” she cast a glance at whoever was in the room with her that Jango couldn’t see. “Commendable that Alor Mereel would rush to the aid of someone in distress. I would hope that no one would suggest that a leader of Mandalore should do anything differently, because I certainly wouldn’t and anyone who would act in such a vile manner would be unfit to have any place in the government of Mandalore.” She hadn’t raised her voice even once, hadn’t changed her expression, or even seemed particularly upset, but she wasn’t interrupted a second time.

For a split second, Jango remembered a moment, just a very short time after Jaster had so kindly taken him in as his foundling, when Jaster had begun training him. He had taken the familiar blaster out of Jango’s hands and given him a sword, a weapon he’d never used. “Remember,” Jaster had said. “There is more than one kind of weapon.”

Looking at the duchess’ hard expression and how easily she’d controlled the situation, Jango thought that, perhaps, the duchess wasn’t quite as helpless as she’d seemed. Perhaps there was hope for her. So he took off his helmet and smiled at her. “I will give Alor Mereel your kind regards, Satine. We’ll be there as soon as we can.” He was definitely giving her a knife.

After he disconnected the transmission, he went back to stand next to Jaster, still tense and uneasy in his seat at the center of the command deck, and looked out at the approaching ship. “Satine isn’t going to be adopted easily.”

Jaster didn’t bother to look away from the ship as it finally entered the hanger. “Says the boy who bit me the first time I asked to adopt him and threw a cactus at me the second time. A challenge doesn’t frighten me.” He stood up and put his helmet on. The moment it was confirmed the little ship was safely in the hanger, Jaster told his crew, “Right then, we have them. Let’s get out of here as fast as we can. I don’t want us to be caught in the storm. Jango, let’s head down to the hanger.” He tapped a button on his vambrace. “Doctor? Your patients will be with us momentarily.”

“I’m already at the hanger entrance, just waiting for you.”

“We’re on our way.” Jaster led the way off the command deck with Jango.

As soon as they were alone in the hall, Jango said, “You still look worried. We have them, now.”

“Yes, but only just. We came so close to losing them. The Solstice Storm will hit this area of space very soon. If we’d been a little later, if one of my meetings had run late, those boys would be stranded out here, sick and injured, without the possibility of help for weeks. Anakin’s brother might have died. If their ship stores aren’t well provisioned - and considering how small the ship is, I doubt they have enough food or water to last them more than a few days - Anakin might have starved to death. Just a few hours later and we wouldn’t have been able to do anything for them. No ship can go through the Solstice Storm.”

“I know, but we’re not too late and everything is fine.”

By the time they reached the hanger, they had collected several more warriors - engineers who would take charge of any repairs that the ship needed and six other warriors just in case this was some sort of trick and there was an attack waiting in the ship rather than helpless children. It wasn’t likely, but it was possible. After all, it wasn’t a Mandalorian ship and it was very close to Republic Territory.

Jaster-

He waited impatiently until the light next to the hanger’s door flashed, showing that the bay door had closed and it was safe to enter. Jaster led the way - no Mandalorian would call themselves a leader if they tried to lead from the rear - and went straight to the rescued ship. It was a dainty thing compared to Mandalorian ships, sleek and almost fragile looking. As soon as they reached it, Jaster raised his vambrace closer to his face and tapped the communication controls that would allow him to speak to the people in the ship.

“Anakin? Child?” Jaster said into his vambrace so the boy would hear him. “Can you hear me? You’re on our ship. Can you open the hatch of your ship? My people can force it open from out here, if we need to.” His engineers had already been informed that the ship might have taken some heavy damage from the battle it had been in and the hatch controls might have been made inoperable, so they’d brought all the necessary tools to deal with it.

A moment later, “I can see you.” Jaster looked up and, though the front window of the ship’s cockpit, he saw a very small boy with short blonde hair looking down at him. “Wait a minute.”

The ramp opened easily enough and when it did, Jaster went straight for it with Jango at his side and Doctor Gihan only a step behind them. The ship was crowded with so many Mandalorians. To the right, Jaster could see an open door that led into the cockpit and, to the left, there was a long hall with several doors along it. The open space they stood in had a few seats with harnesses for passengers, some hooks along one wall, a few terminals for this or that, and very little else. Not a bad little ship, really.

Jaster looked around the space he and his people stood in. “Anakin? We’re here to help.”

“Are you sure?”

Every Mandalorian’s head turned as one to the cockpit when the little voice spoke. Peeking around the corner of the cockpit's door, a little blonde human boy was watching them.

Under his helmet, Jaster smiled. “Hello. You’re Anakin, aren’t you?”

The boy nodded, his face serious. He was a tiny boy, not alarmingly skinny, but still rather small. He watched them all with a guarded look on his face and a blaster in his hands. He was adorable. He was also shaking and didn’t know how to hold his blaster correctly. He was going to need lessons.

“We’re here to help, Anakin. You said your brother is sick and hurt?”

“I’m gonna shoot you if you try to hurt us.”

So cute! Jaster stared at the boy for a moment and tried really, really hard not to coo at him. Those fearsome eyes, that steady determination... that little pout. Adorable! Jango had looked just like that when he’d been little!

Jaster nodded. “I understand. No one will try to hurt you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

The boy bristled. “I’m not afraid! I’m being very brave! And you’d better not even think about hurting my Obi ‘cause he’s strong and smart and the best fighter ever! He even killed the bad guy with the sword!”

Slowly - very slowly - Jaster reached up and took off his helmet and he knelt down in front of Anakin. “No one is here to hurt you or your brother. But we need to see him if we’re going to help him.”

Anakin stared at Jaster intently, as if he was trying to see right through him. The blaster lowered a little. “Obi said his Temple will help, but he’s still really sick and I don’t know how to get there. And there was another ship that shot at us and the whole ship jerked hard and Obi hit his head and started to bleed. You can help?”

“We will definitely help.” Jaster’s heart was about ready to burst with heartbreak for the clearly suffering child who only wanted to help his brother. He looked at the doors down the hall. “Can you let our...” he hesitated, thinking of the Basic word before he remembered it. “Can you let our doctor see him?” He gestured over his shoulder and waited until Doctor Gihan stepped forward.

As Jaster had, Doctor Gihan took off his helmet. “Hello. I’m Doctor Vo Gihan and I need to see your Obi if I am to help him.” Vo was an older male with grey starting to streak through the heavy fur that covered him from head to foot. He also exuded so much warmth and a feeling of ‘safety’ that nearly everyone trusted him at first meeting.

The boy crossed his arms over his chest. “His name’s Obi-Wan. Only I get to call him Obi.” He narrowed his eyes. He shifted from foot-to-foot as he debated with himself. Of course, they could have easily taken the blaster from the boy and simply moved him out of the way, but Jaster saw no reason to frighten him or risk hurting him if he fought them in a panic. Finally, Anakin said, “Okay. You can help. Just.. just remember not to hurt him!”

When Anakin raised the blaster, in what he obviously must have thought was a threatening manner, Jaster distinctly heard one of his people sigh in such an adoring manner that he knew he’d have to make it well know that the boy had a mother, as he’d told Jaster when they had spoken, earlier. No Mandalorian worthy of their armor would force a child away from a loving family, no matter how charmingly prickly they were.

Doctor Gihan nodded, solemnly. “I promise to cause him no further harm. I only want to help.”

Anakin point the blaster at the floor and his shoulders slumped, but he turned and the led the way down the short corridor until he came to a door and tapped the controls on the side of the door to make it slide open.

The room was a bunk room, only big enough for one narrow bed. The boy inside might have been old enough to be considered full grown by some people’s standards, though he did appear to be several years younger than Jango. Like Anakin, the new boy was thin, but in a lean sort of way rather than a hungry way. The boy, Obi-Wan, was pale, but also flushed with fever.

When the door opened, he turned his head towards them. He blinked and stared at Jaster for a moment. He reached out a shaky hand. “Master?” He reached a little too far and rolled right off the bunk he’d been laying on and landed on the metal floor with a harsh thump where he lay face-down before he weakly tried to push himself up and entirely failed to do so.

Jaster, and every other Mandalorian there, lurched forward to help, but they were too slow.

“Obi!” Anakin dropped the blaster he’d been holding and rushed into the room before any of the Mandalorians could. He grabbed his brother’s arm and tried futilely to pull him up. “Stop trying to get up!”

Jaster’s heart went out to Anakin, so obviously distressed, but he stayed where he was so as to not overcrowd the room when Doctor Gihan moved in to help. Doctor Gihan, despite being the biggest person there, slipped easily by Jaster. “Excuse me, Alor.” He set his case of equipment down and eased Anakin out of the way. He gently lifted Obi-Wan and put him back on the bed. “Take it easy, now. You need to rest. Let’s make you a bit more comfortable, shall we?” He straightened Obi-Wan’s arms and legs and covered him with the blanket that had been on the bed. He was not dreadfully alarmed at the state of his new patient and that was very reassuring because if he had been alarmed, there would have been something seriously wrong. As it was, Doctor Gihan had seen far worse than a sick boy with a knock on the head over his many years of service.

As Doctor Gihan worked, Jango silently snatched the blaster Anakin had dropped and attached it to his belt with his own blaster.

Anakin wrung his hands with agitation. “Obi! You’re supposed to stay in bed when you’re sick!”

Obi-Wan blinked and looked around the room with a somewhat dazed expression. “Hmm? What?” His eyes fell on Jaster, again. He blinked, frowned and turned his head a little to the side. “Master? What’s happening, Master?”

Doctor Gihan said, “He’s got a fever, Alor. A pretty high one, too. Delusions are not unexpected.” Then he turned back to Obi-Wan and petted his forehead. “There’s nothing to get upset up. I’m just going to do a quick scan.” He did so with the small, hand-held scanner he carried in his bag of equipment, then rumbled with displeasure at what the scanner told him. “I want to get him to our infirmary.” He frowned at the dark little room Obi-Wan had been resting in. “I need medical equipment that we just don’t have here.”

“We do so have medical stuff.” Anakin dashed out of the room and brought back a metal box. “See?”

Doctor Gihan looked into the box and kept smiling, but Jaster had known him for a good long while and could tell he wasn’t all that impressed. “A very good basic first-aid kit. Did you help your Obi-Wan with it?”

“Yup, there were bandages for his head.” Then he looked sadly into the box. “I don’t know what the other stuff does, though.”

“He is lucky to have such a quick thinking brother,” Doctor Gihan’s rumbling, deep beneath his words, took on a more pleased sound. He pulled a small tube from the medical kit and show it to Anakin. “I can tell you that this word,” he pointed at the word on the tube. “Says ‘bacta’ and we can use it for his head wound.” He started to unwrap the clumsy bandage on Obi-Wan’s head.

Seeing the that ill boy was in expert hands, Jaster turned his attention to Anakin. Anakin appeared to have completely forgotten the blaster he’d dropped and hadn’t even noticed that Jango had taken it. A little training would fix that sort of carelessness. He put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder to draw Anakin’s attention away from what Doctor Gihan was doing to Obi-Wan. When Anakin looked up at him, Jaster asked, “How are you, Anakin? Are you hurt? You’ll have a check up in the infirmary with your brother, but if you have any immediate injuries, we need to know.”

Anakin shook his head.

“That’s good. How about sickness? Do you think you might have caught what your brother has?”

Again, Anakin just shook his head.

And, just like that, with the knowledge that both boys would be well, the tension in Jaster’s people seemed to break. Jango told the engineers to get to work on the ship while the nurse who had come with Doctor Gihan began to set up a stretcher to get Obi-Wan safely to the infirmary.

Anakin asked Jaster, “Are you the boss?”

It was a funny way to put it, but they clearly weren’t Mandalorians so Anakin likely wouldn’t have known Jaster's proper title. “Yes. That’s close enough. I’m the boss.”

Anakin went very still, then look at his feet. “Whatda want for pay, Boss? Don’t got any credits.”

It took Jaster a minute to work through the Basic words - Anakin seemed to use a dialect of it that Jaster wasn’t accustomed to - but when did, he realized that Anakin thought Jaster expected to be paid for the rescue. It was a dishonorable accusation, but Little Anakin clearly didn’t mean it maliciously.

Jaster opened his mouth to reply, when Doctor Gihan softly said, “Alor, you may want to see this.”

Jaster gave Anakin’s shoulder a pat, then walked around him and into the tiny room. There was hardly enough room for two adults to stand in the room, but he managed to stand next to where Doctor Gihan knelt next to Obi-Wan’s bed. Obi-Wan’s head was freshly bandaged and treated with bacta, so there was every reason to think he was well on the way to recovery and Jaster looked over Doctor Gihan’s shoulder with a smile. That smile faded entirely when Doctor Gihan carefully turned Obi-Wan’s head to the side to show Jaster what he hadn’t seen before.

A braid.

Obi-Wan wore a braid - long and thin - that hung off the side of his head to lay against his shoulder. Then, Doctor Gihan slightly moved the blanket covering Obi-Wan and pulled his brown robe out of the way. A lightsaber hung at his belt. There was no mistaking it - Obi-Wan was a Jedi child. He certainly shouldn’t have been so far from his people with an even younger child without the protection of an adult Jedi.

“Master?” Obi-Wan kept watching Jaster. He reached out and took Jaster’s hand. His grip was worryingly weak. “Master, is Anakin alright? I don’t feel very well.”

Anakin squeeze between Doctor Gihan and Jaster and went to stand next to Obi-Wan. “That’s not Master Jinn, Obi. He said he’s gonna help us. You think it’s okay?”

Obi-Wan blinked and gave Anakin a soft smile. His hand fell away from Jaster’s. “Everything’s okay. Trust in the Force. Everything’s just fine.” Then his eyes fluttered closed and he fell silent.

A Jedi child. Jaster looked, again, at Anakin and noticed a long lock of hair, longer than the rest of his hair, near his right temple, where a Jedi child would wear their braid.

So that he wouldn’t alarm Anakin, Jaster stepped into the hall with Jango and closed the room’s door behind him. He tapped a button on his vambrace to let him speak to the command deck.

“Lonhi, can we get a message to Coruscant?”

“No, Alor. The Solstice Storm has started; we were lucky to be just ahead of it. We’re cut off from Republic Space for the next couple of weeks.”

“Thank you.” He ended the connection. Two Jedi children and he couldn’t return them to their people or even contact them.

Jango sighed. “The Jedi are going to think we kidnapped their children.”

Jaster barked a laugh. “Don’t be silly. It’s not as if we’re Death Watch. No good Mandalorian would kidnap a child. This changes nothing. We will look after and care for them. At the first sign of a break in the storm, we’ll send word to their people and when the storm clears, we’ll take them home.” He shook his head at Jango. “Really! The idea of a Mandalorian kidnapping a child... no one would think such a thing!”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Naughty Words

Earlier-
Master Dooku-

In the depths of space, several days travel from Coruscant, Master Dooku traveled alone in a small ship as he returned to his home - the Jedi Temple. The mission had gone smoothly - naturally - and he had already written up the customary reports, suggestions, and insults to be delivered to various people the moment he arrived home. All was well and he had very little to do but enjoy the journey.

An incoming message drew his attention and he press the button that activated the holographic image that hovered over the console. Immediately, he smiled when he saw who had contacted him.

“Master Koon, a pleasure to see you. An unexpected pleasure, though. The mission went well. There is no concern and I will be back at the Temple shortly.”

Master Plo Koon shook his head. “Perhaps there may be cause for concern. There was an incident reported to us a few days ago. The council decided to wait to tell you so as to not endanger you by giving you a distraction during your mission.”

It was almost an insult. If he hadn’t been quite such a good friend, Master Dooku might have taken offense. But Plo was an old friend of many, many years and Dooku knew very well that Plo wouldn’t insult him with some backhanded comment. He would do it deliberately and bluntly. “Are you suggesting that I get easily distracted?” He raised an eyebrow. “I assure you, I have never let myself become distracted during any mission.”

“Qui-Gon faced a Sith.”

Something deep inside Dooku went very cold. “What?”

“He returned to the Temple a short time ago when his mission went in an unexpected direction and reported that a Sith had attacked him on Tatooine.”

The idea of it... his sweet little padawan... facing some Sith monster! It was not to be tolerated. Qui-Gon was a mediator, a gentle presence trained to sooth fraying tempers. He could fight as well as any Jedi, but it was not his great strength. To think of him alone with little Obi-Wan fighting against a desperate, murderous Sith made Dooku’s blood turn to ice water. He took all that anger and fear and pushed them away into the Force. They were of no use at the moment.

“Tell me what happened.”

And Plo did. Told him in great detail of Qui-Gon’s certainty about what he’d faced and then about his insistence about a boy he’d found during his latest missions. It was enough to make Dooku roll his eyes.

“Why was anyone surprised he brought home a child? He used to cry when he saw a plant he thought was lonely. Of course he’d want to bring home a needy child. I’m surprised he didn’t bring home more.” Dooku thought of Obi-Wan, though, and asked after him.

“He confirmed that it was a Sith...”

Dooku waved his hand, negligently. “Of course it was a Sith. Qui-Gon has many faults, but he does not lie. I am asking how did Obi-Wan take the new child’s appearance?”

“Well... Qui-Gon immediately said he would take the little boy as his padawan and pushed for Obi-Wan to take his trials.”

Now that did surprise Dooku. “Obi-Wan isn’t ready. He needs at least two more years training.”

“That is what Master Windu suggested when we discussed it after Qui-Gon left to finish his mission on Naboo. I have to say I agree. Qui-Gon has immense faith in Obi-Wan and the boy is exceptional, but the opportunity to gain a little more confidence will do him very well. I believe Qui-Gon might have been a little panicked at the idea that the child would be left without protection with a Sith on the loose.”

“Did the Council say any such thing?” While he had his differences with the Council, he found it hard to believe they would simply abandon a helpless child.

“No. Of course not, but Qui-Gon had just faced down that Sith and was clearly... concerned. That’s why I’ve contacted you. Do you think you could have a little word with him? He listens to you. When he’s had a moment to think, I’m sure he’ll see that we wouldn’t just drop the poor child on some street corner to fend for himself. But the child is nearly too old and certainly too frightened to be a padawan at the moment. He needs healing, first, and probably several years in the creche to adjust to life in the Temple. He simply can’t be trained straight away.”

Dooku sighed. Qui-Gon spent so much time living in the ‘here and now’ that when worry hit him, it hit like an asteroid. “I’ll talk to him. Thank you for the warning.” He said his farewells to Plo, then deactivated the communicator. Qui-Gon was so headstrong that he would get himself into unnecessary trouble. Such a troublesome lad. How little Obi-Wan put up with him sometimes was just...

Qui-Gon died.

Like a stab of fire in the center of his mind where the connection he shared with Qui-Gon sat, Dooku felt Qui-Gon’s death. Sudden and painful then... gone. His precious padawan was gone.

Master Dooku fell.

He hadn’t even realized that he’d stood up, but he must have because he’d fallen on the floor of the ship and his head hurt. He must have hit his head on something, but he couldn’t care because Qui-Gon was dead. His vision began to go dark. His padawan... his boy.

Dead.

Gone.

The world went entirely dark and Master Dooku was unconscious and alone, drifting through space.

Anakin-

On Obi-Wan’s ship, Anakin sat in the pilot’s seat in the cockpit, hugging his knees to his chest. From where he sat, with the pilot’s seat turned completely around, he could see down the hall of the ship and watched Mandalorians going here and there. He could even see out of the still open hatchway to the hanger of Boss Jaster’s ship.

There wasn’t much Anakin could do to help. The Mandalorians were all so big and he had never felt so small and weak as when he tried to make himself useful, but there was nothing he could do. He couldn’t even hold Obi-Wan’s hand because Doctor Gihan was getting him ready to go to the other ship’s infirmary. The only thing he could do to be useful was to stay out of the way.

He didn’t want to upset Boss Jaster by being in the way. Boss Jaster was nice, Anakin was pretty sure. Anakin was inclined to like the Mandalorians just because they looked like droids, but when Boss Jaster had taken his helmet off, Anakin had gotten a rush of all kinds of good feelings from him. He felt steady and warm... like a fire. Anakin liked him.

Anakin rocked back and forth in the pilot’s seat.

Boss Jaster came out of the room where Doctor Gihan was taking care of Obi-Wan and stepped around another Mandalorian who was setting up a stretcher on the floor of the hall. He went straight to the cockpit and sat in the co-pilot’s seat. “How are you holding up, Anakin? It’s been a long day for you.”

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good. So... you and your brother are Jedi?”

Anakin shrugged. “I’m not, yet.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Obi said Jedi kids get kidnapped.”

Boss Jaster’s eyes went soft. “Oh... that’s not going to happen. Not now. No Mandalorian worth their armor would allow a child to be kidnapped. You are under my protection.”

Anakin chewed his thumbnail for a minute as he worked up his courage to ask something that had been nagging at his mind. Anakin asked, “How much this gonna cost? Medicine and,” Anakin waved his hand vaguely at the ship and the busy Mandalorians. “Stuff to make Obi better and fix the ship.” Everything had a price. Anakin knew that very well. Food, water, people - everything had a price. Boss Jaster had set his people to working on Obi-Wan’s ship to fix stuff. Anakin could fix anything on a ship that was broken, but he didn’t have parts or tools. Medicine was very expensive, and they were getting to stay on Boss Jaster’s ship. It would all cost and Anakin didn’t have a single credit. Maybe, hopefully, Boss Jaster would take manual labor for pay, because Anakin could sure do that. He could clean and cook and fix stuff. Anakin took a deep breath and told Boss Jaster, “If you tell me how much all your help costs, I can repay it. I don’t have any credits, but I’m super smart so I can fix about anything, instead.”

“Cost? Repay?” Jaster frowned and his eyebrows drew together. “There is no ‘repaying’.”

That couldn’t be right. There was always a price to pay. He was pretty sure the only reason Padme didn’t ask payment for helping them was because she was just so nice and, maybe, because Master Jinn and Obi-Wan helped to stop the war. Otherwise, stuff had to be paid for.

Boss Jaster shook his head. “Is that what has you so worried? There will be no cost. My people and I came to help you because we wanted to. It was our choice. While you are with us, you are my guests and my responsibility. I will hear no more about payment.”

Anakin slowly nodded. Obi-Wan said everything would be fine. He was really sick, but he had said things would be fine and Obi-Wan didn’t tell lies. All the same, best to play it safe and keep on Boss Jaster’s good side while Obi-Wan was helpless. “Can... can we go to Obi-Wan’s Temple when he’s feeling better? I was just lost after the pirates, but Obi-Wan will know how to get there.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s not possible. The Solstice Storm only just began.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

There couldn’t have been more surprise on Boss Jaster’s face. “You’ve never heard of the Solstice Storm? How? Never mind. Here.” He turned in the co-pilot’s seat to face the console and frowned at it. “Give me a minute. Republic technology isn’t my strong point. So, I think if I press this...”

Before he could say even a word more, Anakin felt a flash of hope as he finally found a way he could be useful to Boss Jaster and start to pay his and Obi-Wan’s keep. “I can do it! What do you want done?”

“Well, I wanted to show you a chart of the galaxy, but you don’t have to...”

“I can! I’m a genius. Everyone says so. Even Master Jinn said I’m brilliant.” Without any hesitation, Anakin glanced over the controls, saw what he needed, and quickly pressed the right buttons that made a holographic map of the galaxy appear above the console. “See? You just have to activate the coordinate location beacons and put them on the broadest setting possible - this ship can do 4.8 million light years circumference, so it’ll give us the whole galaxy and a little more - and then compute in the inverse gravitational...” Anakin’s voice trailed away when he noticed Boss Jaster looking at him with wide eyes and he suddenly felt self-conscious. “Well... it works.”

Boss Jaster grinned and reached out a hand so unexpectedly that Anakin flinched and raised his hands up to protect his head. He sat that way for a minute with his eyes squeezed closed, waiting for the blow because he’d done something wrong. He didn’t know what, but he’d done something wrong and he’d made Boss Jaster angry. Anakin knew he was stupid, stupid, STUPID! Why couldn’t he do something right when Obi-Wan was depending on him?! A moment passed, then another. Nothing happened. Slowly, Anakin opened his eyes. Boss Jaster looked like he’d frozen in place with his hand stretched out. They sat there, just staring at each other for a moment, and when Anakin took the risk of slightly lowering his hands, Boss Jaster slowly reached out and put his hand on the top of Anakin’s head. Then, when Anakin got ready to have his hair yanked, Boss Jaster gently ruffled Anakin’s hair, then took his hand away.

“Thank you, little one.” Boss Jaster looked at the holographic chart and pointed at a tiny dot of light. “This is the sun of the planet Mandalore.” Then he moved his finger to indicate a large area of the projected chart. “This is the Mandalorian Empire. And this,” he indicated another part of the chart. “Is Republic territory. Do you see this line here?” He drew his finger along a line that separated the two territories. “This is the Solstice Storm. There are two black holes on either side of our galaxy, one here” he pointed to the far right of the chart. “And one here.” He pointed to the far left. “Every ten years, they start, well... throwing things at each other. I supposed that’s the easiest way to describe it. They just spew out powerful energy. It’s completely impassible.”

“What sort of energy?”

“We have no idea. We can’t study it. Whatever it is, makes technology freeze. Doesn’t damage anything permanently, just won’t let it work while they’re caught in the storm.”

Anakin scowled at the line on the chart. “I don’t get it.”

“We’ve tried sending ships and probes into the Solstice Storm, but the moment it gets into the energy, everything just stops working. When the storm ends, things start working again, but we’ve never been able to collect any information about it. All we know is that it’s a powerful energy and that it cuts the Republic Territory and the Mandalorian Empire completely off for about two weeks every ten years. The storm is millions of light years wide and spans the entire length of the galaxy. So, for a little while, you will stay with my people. There will probably be a break or two in the storm when we may be able to get a message through, but it won’t be safe to take a ship through for a little while, not even through hyperspace. It will give your brother plenty of time to get well.”

Anakin frowned at that line on the map. Obi-Wan wouldn’t be happy about the wait, but he did need to get better. There really wasn’t much choice and Anakin still thought that Boss Jaster seemed safe. “Okay. Okay. But we can leave after the storm, right?”

“Yes. In fact, I’ll personally make sure you get back to your Temple.”

Mind made up, Anakin nodded. He shifted on the seat so he could sit on his knees and look just a little taller when he spoke to Boss Jaster. “I understand. I’ll be good.” But he thought of Obi-Wan so helpless and surrounded by strangers. It would have been one thing if they’d been at Obi-Wan’s Temple with all his friends around, but these people were all strangers and Anakin was so very, very aware that they were at Boss Jaster’s mercy. He had to make sure Obi-Wan was safe. “You don’t have any creepy people around, do you?”

“How do you mean? Creepy in what way?”

“There was a creepy senator on Naboo and he came around to see Obi-Wan. He smiled a lot at Obi-Wan, but... I didn’t like him. He touched Obi-Wan, too. Said he lived real close to Obi-Wan’s Temple so they could see each other all the time. You don’t have creepy people around like that, do you?”

Boss Jaster’s face did a funny thing where it went very still and even though he was smiling, Anakin had the funny feeling that Boss Jaster wasn’t actually happy. Then, Boss Jaster’s eye twitched. “No. There will be no creepy people around to bother either of you. And if you do encounter someone creepy, I expect you to tell me so I can make them... ah... go away.”

Anakin rolled his eyes. “I’m not worried about me. I can’t take care of myself, but I don’t think Obi-Wan’s very good at taking care of himself. He thought that senator was just being friendly.”

“I understand. We will make sure your brother is taken care of. Now, we have another issue. Obi-Wan mentioned a Master. I’m a little worried about you two boys being out here alone. Do you know where your Master is?”

Anakin fought not to cringe and when he did answer, he was more than a little ashamed of how his voice only managed to come out in a whisper. “He’s not really my Master, but Master Jinn is here.”

One of the other Mandalorians, one who stayed close to Boss Jaster most of the time, spoke, but he spoke in a language that Anakin didn’t understand. If he could have understood it, he would have heard,

“Father, this ship is so small, there isn’t much room for anyone to hide, but there is one locked door down near the end of the hall. We may have to break it down if we want to get in. This Jedi Master might be hiding in there.”

“Don’t rush, Jango. Perhaps he has a reason from concealing himself.”

“A reason? For hiding away when he has one sick child being looked after by a much younger child after being attacked by pirates?”

That, naturally, brought up an uproar by all the other eavesdropping Mandalorians. Comments were made such as,

“It’s unforgivable!”

“He should be ashamed!”

“The poor dears. If their Master treats them like this, maybe they won’t want to stay with him.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Logi. I wouldn’t mind such darling little children joining my family, though.”

“I’ll fight you for them!”

“You two can’t just start in on that. Not without me. I want a chance to fight for them, too! Sweet, brave lads, just trying to survive out here. They’d make my clan so proud.”

Boss Jaster raised his voice, “There will be no battle contest for them! Even if the Master is neglectful and unworthy, they have a mother!”

The sense of disappointment was almost tangible.

“And besides,” Boss Jaster added. “I’d fight all of you.”

Anakin, of course, understood none of it.

“My son, Jango,” Boss Jaster said to Anakin in Basic. “Told me that there is a locked door down the hall. Is that where Master Jinn is?”

Anakin nodded. “Do you want to see him?”

“I’d like that very much.”

Boss Jaster’s son, Jango, grumbled, “Yeah, I wouldn’t mind a word with that di’kutla cabur. Osik!”

Anakin, always curious, asked, “What’s ‘osik’?”

“Jango!” Boss Jaster reprimanded.

Jango spluttered. “It’s not a word for children. Don’t repeat it. Why don’t you go unlock that door for us?”

With a nod, Anakin stood up from his seat. He had to show them because Anakin knew very well that his and Obi-Wan’s welfare depended on Boss Jaster. If he could keep Boss Jaster happy, then they’d be alright. He guessed that one part of keeping Boss Jaster happy would be keeping Jango happy, too, because people usually valued their own children above all else. All he had to do was be useful and good and not cause any trouble at all. He could do it.

Anakin led Boss Jaster and Jango out of the cockpit and to the last door in the hall. “This is Master Jinn’s room.”

Jango took off his helmet and he felt nice, too, but he also felt sort of rumbly and growly. “I can’t believe he’s here and not even looking after his children. What sort of...” And he started saying more words that Anakin didn’t understand until Boss Jaster mildly said,

“K’uur. Te adiik.”

“Master Jinn can’t look after us.” Anakin pressed the key code into the touch pad beside the door to open it. When it slid open, he stepped out of the way to let Boss Jaster and Jango look in. They both went still when they saw the stasis pod. Boss Jaster went in first and looked down at Master Jinn. “He died,” Anakin told them. He stood next to the stasis pod and raised himself up on his toes to look in window. Master Jinn’s long, grayish brown hair was very neatly brushed and spread out on the pillow his head was on. Padme’s people had taken very good care of him and Anakin was glad. “We have to take him back to Obi-Wan’s Temple.”

Jango stepped up next to Boss Jaster and also looked down. He solemnly whispered more of those words Anakin didn’t know, but looked at Anakin seriously and said, “That means that he is not gone, he is merely marching far away.”

Anakin like that. It seemed kind of like what Obi-Wan had said about Master Jinn not really being gone, but that he had joined the Force.

Jango asked, “How did he die?”

“The bad man stabbed him. I heard Obi talking to Padme. He saw it happen. Master Jinn said the bad guy was a Sith, but Obi killed him.”

Boss Jaster and Jango looked at each other sharply. Jango squatted down so he could look Anakin in the eye. “Why don’t you tell us what happened? Tell us how you and your brother ended up out here so far from your mother.”

“She’s not Obi’s mom, she’s mine. But I’d share if he wants to, because he shared Master Jinn with me. Mom and me lived on Tatooine, but then Master Jinn and Padme showed up and he said I could be a strong Jedi. Mom said I could go ‘cause she wanted me to have a better life, so he took me back to his Temple. Then we went to Padme’s planet and there was a war and...” Anakin’s mind balked at the memory of what he’d done. He didn’t want to think about that. “And lots of fighting. That’s where Master Jinn died. Then Padme gave Obi a ship so we could go back to his Temple. There were pirates and Obi hit his head and then I used the hyperdrive so now we’re here. Thank you for helping.”

Just then, Doctor Gihan called out, “Alor, we’re ready to go.”

When Anakin looked back down the hall, he saw Doctor Gihan and another Mandalorian carefully carrying Obi-Wan out of the room and setting him down on a stretcher that was on the floor in the hall. He wanted so badly to run to Obi-Wan, but, still keenly aware of keeping Boss Jaster happy, he politely asked, “May I walk with Obi, Boss Jaster?”

Boss Jaster nodded and Anakin was off at once until he came to stand right next to where Doctor Gihan was fixing a wide belt across Obi-Wan’s waist to prevent him from falling off the stretcher. “His fever’s been climbing dangerously since we got here,” Doctor Gihan told Boss Jaster. “We need to hurry, Alor.”

“Alor?” Obi-Wan muttered. He blinked slowly, then stared straight up at the ceiling and he started to cry. “Master... cabur. Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum, Buir Qui-Gon.”

Whatever it was that Obi-Wan had said had a big effect on the Mandalorians. It seemed like every single one of them just froze and stared at Obi-Wan. Maybe Obi-Wan had said naughty words. The Mandalorians began to mutter to themselves and Boss Jaster and Jango both looked stared at Obi-Wan with their mouths hanging open.

“How...?” Jango asked. He went to Obi-Wan and put a hand on his shoulder. “Kid, how do you...” But he wasn’t able to finish.

Obi-Wan let out a sob, then his eyes rolled back and his whole body went stiff and tense.

“He’s having a seizure!” Doctor Gihan and the other Mandalorian who’d helped carry Obi-Wan to the stretcher backed a little away from Obi-Wan as he started to thrash and jerk on the floor. Doctor Gihan took a little canister from his medical bag and sprayed a mist at Obi-Wan’s face. Almost at once, the violent jerking eased away, but his whole body stayed taut as a stretched-out rubber band. “Quick, now! He needs to be in the infirmary!” He and the nurse picked up either end of Obi-Wan’s sketcher and carried him quickly out of the ship and onto Boss Jaster’s ship. Boss Jaster ran with them after he looked at Anakin and said, “Stay with Jango!”

Anakin did. He didn’t move. He felt so cold, and they were taking Obi-Wan away. He watched helplessly from the hatch of the ship as Obi-Wan was rushed through the hanger of Boss Jaster’s ship, then through a door that closed behind them and Obi-Wan was gone.

Anakin wrapped his arms around himself.

He was so cold.

To Be Continued....

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Shadow Quiet

Anakin-

Anakin stood dumbly on the ramp of Obi-Wan’s ship and watched while his Obi-Wan was taken away. Obi-Wan was carried across the hanger and through a door that quickly slid closed behind him and the people with him. Anakin felt sick.

“Hey, kid?”

Anakin looked up at the Mandalorian he’d been told to stay with. Boss Jaster had told him to stay and he had to obey. So he bowed his head a little and put his hands behind his back - just like he’d always been taught to stand. “Yes, sir?” Boss Jaster was Jango’s father, so if he was rude to Jango, Boss Jaster would probably get mad. But Boss Jaster still didn’t feel dangerous, he didn’t give off those bad feelings that Anakin always got from masters. That funny feeling - the Force feeling Master Jinn had tried to explain to him - wasn’t given him any bad feelings at all.

Jango gave Anakin a crooked smile. “I know this is all pretty rough on you. It’s going to take Doctor Gihan some time to get your brother stabilized. How about we get you something to eat?”

It was stupid to refuse food. Anakin knew very well to eat every time the opportunity came along, but he really didn’t want to. He wanted to be with Obi-Wan. “Yes, sir.” Really, there were worse people than Jango. Many people would have forgotten to feed Anakin when Obi-Wan was obviously so much more important.

They left the hanger and went into the Mandalorian's ship. The further they went from Obi-Wan’s ship, the more frightened Anakin felt. Someday, he was going to be a Jedi and he wouldn’t be afraid of anything and that would be good because it seemed like he was afraid of everything all the time.

The Mandalorian ship was very distracting. He’d never seen anything like it. Everything was gray and so very different from the sort of thing that had passed through Watto’s shop and, had he not been so worried about Obi-Wan, he would have dearly wanted to stop and take a closer look, especially when he spotted what he thought might be a maintenance hatch that had been left open.

Lots of people were staring. Everyone they passed wore armor of some kind and everyone they passed stared. One Mandalorian stared so intently that they walked into someone else and the two of them fell into a heap on the floor which made Jango bark out a laugh.

Anakin wasn’t amused. It was too much like in the hanger back on Naboo when all the happy pilots surrounded Anakin. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like it at all.

“Everything alright, kid?”

Anakin jump, startled out of his thoughts at Jango’s voice. He shrugged. “I’m okay.” Lie. He wasn’t okay at all.

As they walked, they passed more and more people who would turn and stare. It was impossible to ignore them. They passed many doors with writing on them, but Anakin couldn’t read them any more than he could read the words on the medicine bottles on Obi-Wan’s ship. There were many large windows in the hall and Anakin paused here and there to take a look in to those rooms. Some rooms were dark and he couldn’t see anything, but some had people working and some had long tables where people were talking.

Then, there was a door that didn’t have a window with it. There was laughing behind that door. It was loud enough that Jango stopped walking. He frowned at the door, then went to it and pressed the control beside the it. The door slid open and out into the hall fell some cleaning supplies and two Mandalorians without their helmets on. They fell on the floor at Jango’s feet, their laughter immediately stopped when they looked up at Jango, shock clear on their faces.

Jango stared. His eyes narrowed.

The two Mandalorians on the floor had painted faces. Both of them, the man and the woman Mandalorian, had intricate designs of bright pink painted onto their faces - their cheeks, noses, forehead - every part of their skin seemed to be covered in geometric patterns, little flowers, and wavy lines. In their hands were clutched fine haired paint brushes and the woman held a small bottle of pink paint.

For a long moment, the three grown-ups just stared at each other.

“Oh, honestly.” Jango stood next to Anakin and shook his head. “No modesty at all! A cleaning closet? Really? Go somewhere private if you’re not on duty! If you are supposed to be on duty...”

“No, Young Lord!” Both of the painted Mandalorians shot to their feet, scrambled for helmets that had been left in the closet and all but slammed them on their heads before they each struck a fist to their chests. “We’ll just go now, Young Lord. Sorry for the trouble. Won’t happen again!”

Jango said something in Mandalorian and they answered in the same language. Anakin couldn’t follow the conversation, but he knew that the two painted Mandalorians were in trouble. After a minute of Jango snapping and snarling, the painted Mandalorians gave another salute, then turned and hurried down the hall.

“Two full grown warriors acting like that. Feh!” Jango urged Anakin along and they started walking again. “Painting their bare faces in public... gross.”

“Is it bad?”

Jango blushed. “Not... bad. Just not something that should be done in public. And you’re too young to worry about that, anyway.”

Anakin thought of Padme and her very pretty face paint. She painted her whole face white and put bright red on her lips and her cheeks. She put so much paint of her face that it was almost impossible to tell who she was. It was a real struggle not to scowl at Jango’s disapproval of face paint as it felt as if he were somehow insulting Padme, who should never, ever be insulted. Still, he kept quiet and just decided that Jango had very bad taste.

They went a little further along and came to another door with a large window next to it and Anakin stopped to watch what was going on inside that room. The room was very big and very empty. There was nothing in it but the metal floor and walls and two savagely fighting warriors seemingly trying to kill each other. On Tatooine, Anakin had seen many people using blasters and killing people with them, but he’d never seen anyone fighting with swords.

The two Mandalorians, both fully armored, were fighting ferociously and each one wielded two short, broad swords. One struck the other in the chest. The other Mandalorian went down, but kept his swords in his hands. When his opponent made to jump on him, both swords at the ready, the downed Mandalorian raised up both feet and kicked him in the chest, sending him flying back to crash into a wall. One of the fighters dropped to the floor and swung his foot in a wide circle, taking the other one off his feet and bringing him to the floor where they both dropped their weapons and began to wrestle.

“Why are they fighting?”

“Oh, they’re just having fun.” Jango watched the awful battle almost carelessly. “They’re friends of mine and I might go join them when things have settled a bit. You can come along if you like. I’ll teach you to grapple.”

Anakin didn’t understand. “So... they’re not trying to kill each other? They’re not gladiators?”

“Sorry. I don’t know that word.”

“Fighters. Diamyo Jabba took the strongest slaves on Tatooine and made them fight each other. They got fed really well, so they got big and strong and then they fought to entertain Diamyo Jabba and the rich people who came to watch.” Anakin looked back at the fighting Mandalorians. “They die, a lot.”

Jango was quiet for a long time and they just watched the fighters wrestle. “These two warriors are very good friends. They won’t kill each other. They won’t even really hurt each other. They just like to fight. If they wanted to kill each other, they’d be taking it a lot more seriously. I’ve heard our ways seem odd to outsiders, but we are a warrior culture. This is what we do.”

“You do?” Anakin looked back at the fighting people. Something gnawed at his mind. He wanted to tell. “Did you ever really kill anyone, then?”

“Sure. Lots of times.”

He said it so easily. It shouldn’t be easy. “Do you get sick thinking about it, too?”

Jango turned his head, just a little, so he was only barely looking at Anakin. “Have you killed someone?”

He couldn’t tell. What if Jango told Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan hated Anakin. He couldn’t!

The door of the room they were standing at opened and the two men who’d been fighting strolled out as if they hadn’t been viciously battling only moments earlier with their scary weapons and their faces hidden under their helmets. One of them said something to Jango in that language Anakin didn’t understand.

“He doesn’t understand Mando’a,” Jango said.

One of them said, “Sorry, kid. We’ll stick to Basic for you. I’m Silas and this...” he gestured to the other man, but before he could finish, that other man squatted down in front of Anakin.

“I’m Myles. Hello, little friend. Well met and we’re happy to have you here. Heard all about you. Of course the Young Lord here,” he gestured at Jango. “Gets to meet you first. It’s so good to see that you’re uninjured. Are you hungry? If you’d like something to eat, I can help you pick something out in the mess hall.”

“Hello, Myles,” Jango said, rolling his eyes. “Hello, to one of my closest friends for many, many years who hasn’t even bothered to look at me.”

“Yeah. Sure. Hi, Jango. So,” Myles refocused on Anakin. “I heard your name is Anakin, right? It’s been a long time since we’ve had child on the Bral. There’s a lot to explore here, so if you need a guide, you just ask for Uncle Myles, alright?”

Jango scowled. “He’s not up for adoption. And it’s only a couple of hours until we reach Mandalore, that’s not enough time for decent exploring. He needs to eat and then go for a physical and he needs to see the pysch-medic.”

“What do you mean, he’s not up for adoption?” Myles asked, incredulously. “Have you decided to keep him for yourself? Want to start giving Jaster those grandchildren he’s been wanting?”

Anakin had watched the exchanged with a growing scowl and, all at once, all his caution, all his good sense and need to keep their rescuers happy vanished in the face of sudden overwhelming fury. He screamed at Myles, “I’m not getting adopted! I have a mom!” Then he spat the nastiest words in Huttesse he could think of before he turned abruptly and dashed away.

Jango-

Jango watched little Anakin run and sighed. “If you two will excuse me, I have an ad to find.”

Myles, as any decent Mandalorian would, looked aghast. “I didn’t mean to scare him. I was only joking with you, Jango. Let me help look for him.”

“Both of us,” Silas added. “The ship isn’t that big. If we all search, we’ll find him soon enough.”

“Yeah. You two get started and contact me if you find him. I’m going to fetch Aranar.”

Anakin-

‘I’m in for it now. Stupid.’ Anakin thought to himself, miserably. Once he’d run away from Jango and his friends and had time to calm down, fear had set it. ‘They’re gonna be so mad.’

He was inside a maintenance passage. The open one he’d seen earlier had still been open when he’d run away from Jango. It was big enough for a grown-up to get into, which meant it was more than big enough for Anakin. So he sat there, just a few feet in where he could still see light from the hall, but he felt safely hidden.

He curled up with his knees up at his chest and his arms wrapped around his head, tucking himself into a ball. He’d yelled and used naughty words to Jango’s friends and they were gonna be so mad and what if they took it out on Obi-Wan? But he didn’t want to be adopted. He loved his mom. The idea of some other family taking him and making him call some other woman ‘mom’ was not good. He hated it! Anakin glanced to his left, down deeper into the darkness of the maintenance passage. He could probably hide forever inside the ship, but then he couldn’t take care of Obi-Wan. It would be better to just go out and take his punishment. And if they made him get adopted, he could deal with it. He could deal with a lot.

There was snuffling sort of noise. Anakin’s peeked over his knees at the entrance of the maintenance passage to where light from the main hall lit up everything. There was a moment of quiet and then, another snuffle. Something poked into the passage. It was a sort of greenish brown color and there were a lot of teeth. It was the snout of an animal. It sniffed a little, then inched its way further into the passage.

Anakin moved himself away from it. He waved his hand. “Go away.”

The animal pressed itself in a little further until its whole head was in and it looked at Anakin with large, golden eyes. It whined a little and managed to get its front legs into the passage.

“Go away!” Anakin told it, waving his hand at it, again. When it lurched forward and grabbed his sleeve with its terrible fangs, Anakin squeaked and tried to pull away. “Leave me alone!”

The animal tugged at him, clearly trying to get him to leave the passage.

“Anakin?” Jango’s voice in the hall made Anakin freeze. “There’s nothing to be scared of. That’s Aranar, my striil, and it’s worried about you. Come on out and you can meet them. They’re very nice.”

The striil was very fuzzy with sort of brown fur and it looked at Anakin with soft eyes. He glared at the animal. “Don’t you bite me.” And he crawled out on his hands and knees with the striil never once letting go of his sleeve. The moment Anakin was fully out in the hall, the striil, that looked bigger than Jango, crawled onto Anakin’s lap. It had six legs and was fantastically wrinkled, as if it had far too much skin. And... and it was warm. It lay on Anakin’s lap and he felt warm for the first time since he'd left Tatooine.

Jango gave Anakin that funny crooked smile of his. “Do you want to get food, now?”

“I want Obi.”

“Alright. Let’s get you to your brother.”

Jedi Temple-
Master Plo Koon-

It was during a routine meeting that they had received a communication from Naboo in which they learned that one of their own - Young Qui-Gon - had died. Plo Koon, sitting next to the Master of the Order, Mace Windu, had to fight to maintain his composure and not let his distress show. It was the same for all of them. He felt it. Each and every member of the Jedi Council sitting in that room, kept their faces still, but Plo could feel the pain that Qui-Gon’s death brought to them all. It filled the room, thick and suffocating, and still they had to show calm while the grief was kept silent - private.

Plo discretely looked across the room to where Grandmaster Yoda sat, well out of sight of Queen Amidala. His face was lowered and he looked so much older than even his long years. The shields around his mind were solid, but he couldn't quite hide his pain. Plo didn’t blame him. As one of the oldest members of the Order, he, too, knew what it meant to lose members of his Line. It hurt like a savage burn to lose the younglings he had raised and Grandmaster Yoda had lost so many. To lose Young Qui-Gon, who'd still had many decades of life ahead of him, was one more pain, one more memory. Unfortunately, that pain was the price of love.

Queen Amidala went on to say, “It is my terrible duty to inform you that we have only just regained control of our planet’s communications and, therefore, have only just learned that Padawan Kenobi and Anakin were attacked by pirates shortly after leaving Naboo. Our recordings show that they were assisted by someone before they were able to go into hyperspace, but we wished to know if they had been able to return to Coruscant.”

The tension in the Council Chambers only grew. Plo clenched his hands together where they were hidden in the sleeves of his robes in the hope of controlling himself. To think of little Obi-Wan and that darling little Anakin alone somewhere... it was just too awful. He was so distracted by his own dreary thoughts that he barely heard any of the rest of the conversation until Mace asked,

“You mentioned that Master Jinn died in the power generator and that Padawn Kenobi retrieved his body from there.”

Plo felt the stirrings of dread.

“Yes. He took the time to give us a verbal recording of the events as they transpired. If it will be of any help, I can have those recordings transmitted to the Temple.”

Mace nodded. “That will be a great deal of help. May I ask, was Padawan Kenobi injured during the battle? Did he submit to an exam by one of your physicians?”

“No. He was more concerned with Master Jinn and, of course, ensuring that the boy, Skywalker, was taken care of.”

Of course he was. Plo could have sighed. Obi-Wan... always more concerned for other people than he was for himself. Compassion was a commendable trait, but he really needed to sit the boy down and talk to him about taking better care of himself.

“Did Skywalker go into the power generator?”

“No. He was elsewhere during the battle and while I believe he may require counseling for what he went through, to my knowledge, he didn’t suffer any physical harm.”

Mace asked, “Your power generators... what are they powered by?”

“Arkon Waves.”

Plo felt his heart drop. Arkon Waves. He’d seen it, once, when a Knight had gotten exposed to Arkon Waves and how horribly it had affected him. He listened numbly when Mace finished the conversation and disconnected the transmission. Little Obi-Wan and sweet Anakin were lost.

Mace stood up from his seat in the council room, his robes rustling around him as he did. He went to the wall near the door and pressed a button on a small computer terminal mounted there.

“You’ve reached the Communication Center, talk now before I disconnect because Arina Tun is about to find out that Sen isn’t her son and I have to know how her third husband will take it because he’s about to go into labor with their triplets.”

If the situation weren’t so serious, Mace would surely be rolling his eyes. “Utta, turn off the soap holos. We have a missing padawan and a missing initiate.”

“Right. Do you have any information for me or and I doing a deep scan of all information?”

“I'm sending you a recording of the last sighting of them. They were leaving Naboo and were reportedly attacked by pirates. The Naboo defense satellite caught a recording of the battle and the ship the younglings were on just before they jumped to hyperspace and we lost track of them.” He pressed a few buttons on the computer terminal. “You can find recordings of Padawan Kenobi and Initiate Skywalker’s voices along with images of them both in Temple records. Monitor everything possible for any sign of them.”

“Yes, Master Windu. Ah, sorry, but I did a quick search as you were talking, and it seem that we don’t have an Initiate Skywalker registered on our rolls.”

“Not yet, he's very new. Just look for them.” He terminated the line and turned back to face the Council. For a moment, all was grim silence. “Master Jinn is dead. He has rejoined the Force. We rejoice for him.”

“We rejoice for him.” The phrase, as ceremonial as the better known, “May the Force be with you”, was echoed through the room. As always, there was little joy. Master Yoda looked especially drawn, staring at the floor with a morose look on his face and Plo sent a surge of compassion and support to him, for which Master Yoda rewarded him with a little smile.

Mace put his hands behind his back and began to walk around the room, in front of all the other Council Members. “Padawan Kenobi has been exposed to Arkon Waves and has charge of a completely untrained initiate. It’s only a matter of time before the sickness weakens him. We must use every resource to find him and give him the antidote before it’s too late. Master Che?”

Everyone looked at the Chief of their infirmary. “I have multiple doses kept on hand. Everyone who goes out searching for them will be given a dose for Padawan Kenobi, should they find him.”

Master Yoda straightened his back a bit. “The Service Corps. They will help.”

“Yes.” Mace nodded his agreement. “Master Yoda, please speak with the Council of Reassignment and inform them of what’s happening so they can give assignments to the Service Corps. I’m going to the Communication Center.”

Someone quietly asked, “Should we inform the Senate?”

Mace scowled and it was no surprise. His dislike for politics was not a secret - especially not to the politicians who’d had the misfortune of trying to get on his good side. “I don’t see why. This is an internal personnel matter. What are they going to do other than have us waste time filling out paperwork to do what we’re already doing?” Then he swept out of the room and Plo hurried after him.

They walked side-by-side for a time in silence. Mace kept his mind under tight control, as he always did, and his face was as still as ice. For all that, Plo knew he was upset.

“Padawan Kenobi is a fine pilot,” Plo offered when they entered the lift that would take them down to the Communication Center. “I have seen his exam results and Qui-Gon never tired of praising him. He will make sure they both make it back to us.”

“I have seen what Arkon Poisoning can do to a person, just as you have.” Mace didn’t even look at Plo. “We both know that he may not be able to pilot as well as he normally would. His reflexes will be off.”

The moment they entered the Communication Center, one of the terminals was free so Plo went to it and input a frequency he remembered well. He waited and waited, but there was no answering connection. He waited some more until worry began to seep in around the edges of his mind and he had to push it away. After a time, he ended the failed transmission.

“Mace, Master Dooku isn’t answering the transmission. I suspect he may have felt Qui-Gon’s death and it hit him hard. He’s in hyperspace, but he said he’d be back very soon.”

One of the communication techs said, “If he’s in a Temple ship, I can keep an eye out for him with the transmitter that’s planted on it. We’ll know as soon as he’s out of hyperspace and we’ll know exactly where he is.”

With that done, Plo left his seat and went to join Mace, who stood by the chief of the Communication Center, Utta, and both of them watched while Utta worked.

They stayed there for well more than two hours, just waiting for something... anything. The room was a busy place with calls in and out of the Temple being conducted, calls to specific areas or people or just general inquiries, and, in the middle of it all, the Communication Chief looking for their missing younglings.

It made Plo’s heart hurt. He’d watched little Obi-Wan grow up in the creche, watched the trouble that seemed to follow him from the creche into his Padawanship. For all that trouble, he’d grown from a cheery, pleasant boy into a cheery, pleasant young man. Compassionate beyond all reason, intelligent, witty and all good qualities a person could wish for. If he hadn’t had a Padawan at the time, Plo would have taken the boy for his own. To think of him alone out there and dealing with being responsible for a child and escorting his Master home... it was a lot to ask of so young a boy.

Utta said, “We have an incoming message from Naboo, Masters.”

Mace straightened his shoulders. “Let’s hear it.”

Queen Amidala, in all her rich finery, sat before them in the hologram. “Forgive me for calling again when I’m sure you’re busy,” she said. “But I have more news about Padawan Kenobi and Anakin. It’s not good. I was just informed that one of my people who worked on making Padawan Kenobi's ship space worthy was just found dead. It seems to be a clear case of murder, but we haven’t found the criminal, yet. During the investigation of the murder, my people found an area of the nearby forest where there are obvious signs that an unauthorized ship had been there. Upon inquiry of some of the people who were in attendance at our victory celebration, we found several people who spotted a ship flying after Padawan Kenobi’s ship when he left Naboo. We compared witness’ descriptions of that ship and the imprints in the ground of the landing gear of the ship that was found in the forest. It appears to be the same make of ship that helped Padawan Kenobi get away from the pirates - a Mandalorian ship. If they had just been passing by, I wouldn’t think much of it, but they had been hiding on my planet and one of my people has been murdered. I don’t know that the two incidents are connected, but it is suspicious. I have to wonder if they were targeting Padawan Kenobi and Anakin and, as we haven’t seen the Mandalorian ship since Padawan Kenobi and Anakin jumped to hyperspace, I can only guess that the Mandalorian chased after them.”

Mace nodded, serenely. “Thank you for the information. We’ll see that it’s well used. Your concern for our younglings is appreciated.”

When Mace said farewell to Queen Amidala and ended the transmission, Plo said, “It is possible that the Mandalorians aren’t involved at all. Perhaps someone managed to get their hands on a Mandalorian ship. However, if it is a Mandalorian who is following Obi-Wan and little Anakin, then what interest would the Mandalorians have in Jedi younglings?”

Of course it was no secret that Obi-Wan had spent a great deal of time on Mandalore with Qui-Gon, but that didn’t explain murder or creeping after two underaged younglings. Plo felt a stirring of anger... he pushed it away. It would serve nothing at the moment. From the look on his face, Mace was also dealing with rising anger at the thought of some violent stranger following the younglings around. Plo stepped away to give Mace space to deal with his emotions. He’d always had a little trouble with anger.

It was hours later when one of the communication workers let out a flash of excitement and drew everyone’s attention to her. “I have something!” As Mace and Plo went to her station, she pressed a button on her terminal. Immediately, they all heard little Anakin’s voice,

“We need help, please. I don’t know where we are and we need help. Is anyone there?”

Mace let out a breath. “That’s him. That’s Anakin Skywalker. Where’s the transmission coming from?”

The communication worker pressed a few more buttons, then paused and looked up at him, regretfully. “The transmission came from the boundary of Republic Territory and the Mandalorian Empire. It was sent out hours ago. The Solstice Storm just began and I’m not getting any more transmissions. Sir, did the Mandalorians kidnap the younglings?”

Mace went still. “We will not panic. They are either still in Republic Territory and can’t make further transmissions, stranded in the Solstice Storm, or in the custody of Mandalorians.” He looked sharply around the room. “This information is to be kept Shadow Quiet. I do not want even a hint of this to reach the Senate. If they try to get involved, they’ll either debate the issue for the next three years while nothing gets done, or they’ll do or say something stupid and make this blow up into an unnecessary war and get our younglings killed. Bad enough that the Naboo senator knows they’re missing.” He straightened his robe with a jerk and narrowed his eyes. “We’ll deal with this ourselves.”

To Be Continued...

Translations:

Mando’a - Mandalorian language
Aranar - Defend
ad - child
Striil - A Mandalorian pet. Author’s Note: I saw a couple of different spellings for this, so I just picked one. Sorry if it’s wrong, but I like the way it looks.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Vulgar

Jedi Temple-
Plo Koon -

Plo had a reputation for being soft on the younglings. He knew what people said behind his back - he’d stop anything he was doing for the mere chance to chat with a youngling, that he would rather be singing lullabies in the Creche than seeing to the more important duties of a Jedi Master, that he would happily sit for hours with the oldest of Padawans to help them learn some difficult lesson if they were struggling but were too proud to ask their Master for help. He knew of those rumors and he had never once disputed them. After all, it was all absolutely true.

He would do anything for the sake of any youngling and considering that he was currently one of the oldest living beings in the Temple, he considered most everyone else in it to be younglings, whether they liked it or not. So, it would come as no surprise to anyone who knew him that bare moments after they had learned that young Obi-Wan and that sweet little Anakin had apparently attracted the attention of at least one Mandalorian and then ended up next to or in (that hadn’t been entirely clear) Mandalorian space before they vanished, he decided a little research was the very least he could do.

“I’ll be leaving today,” Mace had said when he and Plo parted ways at the doors of the Archives. “I need to pack for the journey and arrange for my duties to be covered. So long as I find Master Dooku in good health, I imagine he’ll want to help with the search. We will probably go straight to the edge of the Solstice Storm rather than return to the Temple.”

Plo nodded. “For the best, I expect. We’ll be in an immediate position to get to the younglings as soon as the storm passes. If, of course, they’re in Mandalorian space.”

Mace’s scowl deepened. “What do you mean ‘we’?”

“Did you think I wasn’t going? And as for Master Dooku being in good enough health to join the search, I think we both know he wouldn’t be left behind if he’d lost a leg and was having heart failure.”

They shared a grin, knowing it was true, and agreed to meet in two hours. Mace went to prepare and Plo went into the Archives. It was quiet in the Archives. Many residents of the Temple would go to the Archives not only for reading, but simply to bask in the blanket like peace found there. If Plo hadn’t been so very worried about the younglings, he’d enjoy the peace, too. Instead, he found a secluded desk and began to research about what Obi-Wan and Anakin might encounter if they were in the Mandalorian Empire.

He read about Mandalore, it’s flora and fauna, the climate, and other such physical characteristics. He read about long ago wars and dealings they’d had with Sith. In truth, there wasn’t much information to be had. They were an insular people, on the whole, and it seemed that the Republic had not had much interest in expanding their collection of information about the Mandalorian people.

For more than an hour, Plo sat in front of the terminal and studied what he could. There were few images to see that were less than a few centuries old and most of them were of warriors wearing armor of various styles and colors, all of them armed with some type of weapon. He found them fascinating. He’d never held a blaster, but Mandalorians did seem very fond of them. It was after he found the images of the warriors that he stumbled up a section about more recent politics.

Death Watch could hardly be considered a political group... terrorists would be a more accurate description.

The New Mandalorians seemed more palatable, but they were a vast minority among the Mandalorian people.

The last group mentioned called themselves the True Mandalorians, which seemed a bit of an odd name, but they appeared to be a more conservative group than the other two and more in line with traditional Mandalorian culture. In the section that told about the True Mandalorians it mentioned their leader, Jaster Mereel, and had a still image of him. It was a rare image of a Mandalorian without a helmet that appeared to be a candid image of him speaking to someone. He had a broad face and sharp looking eyes. He was, if Plo were to guess, perhaps forty years old, or so. Just a young thing. His nose had been broken at some point and healed crooked. There was something strangely endearing about the scar that ran down vertically over the right side of his mouth.

Plo tapped his clawed fingers on the arm of the chair he sat in. He began to smile. Then, he checked the time. Mace would be ready to go very shortly. Plo turned off the terminal and stood. He quickly went to his rooms and grabbed his go-bag. It was fully stocked - he didn’t need to check as it was always fully stocked - and made his way to the Council Chamber where, inevitably, Mace would be.

Mace wasn’t alone when Plo arrived at the Council Chambers. Master Yoda sat with him and they both stared out at the city that engulfed the whole of Coruscant.

“What is your excuse?” Master Yoda asked Mace.

“The truth. One of our number has lost communication with the Temple and we are going to his aid.” Master Dooku would not appreciate being used as an excuse, but he would forgive them as it was in the pursuit of finding the younglings. “No one needs to know anything other than that.”

“And if it is asked why the Master of the Order has gone on a mission? Others could have gone. Knights.”

“The Master of the Order is getting an ulcer from dealing with politicians and needs a vacation.”

Master Yoda chuckled. “Politicians... I will make excuses for you.”

“It’s not an excuse or a lie. Master Che is threatening to confine me to the healing wing. She said if I get one more, she’ll recommend my retirement.” Mace turned his head a little to look at the nearby Senate building. “I took two hundred credits from the Temple’s Community Account.” He kept staring at the Senate. “Two hundred... we can’t spare any more. Two hundred to rescue a well-regarded Master and two helpless younglings.”

Master Yoda said nothing. Plo would have been surprised if he had. There was nothing to say. Nothing to be done.

“Are you ready, Plo?” Mace asked without turning around. “I should thank you for your patience. I half expected you to steal the ship before I got there so you could go searching all the sooner.”

They were entirely ready to leave when it was announced that Senator Palpatine was waiting to see them.

All three of them exchanged an uneasy look. They all knew that Senator Palpatine was set to become the next chancellor and while there was every hope that he would be a kind and compassionate leader of the Republic, there was also every chance that he would not be. The fact that he had so much power over the Order made his coming elevation to the position of chancellor a stressful time for all Jedi. Of course, they tried to shield the younglings from it, but the stress in the Temple was impossible to ignore.

Mace and Plo both hid their go-bags behind council chairs and then sat on either side of Master Yoda. With the image of a united front, Mace pressed a button on the arm of his chair and a hologram of Senator Palpatine appeared in the middle of the room.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Senator Palpatine said, pleasantly. “I’m afraid I won’t have much time, soon, so I wanted to speak with you, Master Windu.” He gave polite nods of acknowledgement to both Plo and Master Yoda, but spoke directly to Mace. “In fact, I promised dear Obi-Wan and Anakin that I would personally give my condolences to you about Master Jinn’s tragic death. Naboo will remember him.”

“The Jedi Order thanks you for your consideration, Senator.” Mace would not, Plo knew, address Senator Palpatine as ‘chancellor’ until he absolutely had to.

“Not at all,” Senator Palpatine replied, easily. “If nothing else, I wouldn’t want to break my word to those boys. You really should be proud of how they held up. I am led to understand that Anakin is not officially a member of your Order, yet, but I assured both of them that they were bound to hear praises when they returned to the Temple. I told them how well they’d done and how brave and selfless they were... certainly they are some of the best young people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet.”

Plo was stunned into silence and, even more shockingly, he felt immense unhappiness from Master Yoda. It lasted only a moment, but it was definitely there.

Mace stiffened his shoulders, but that was the only indication he gave of his displeasure. “I feel sure that Padawan Kenobi conducted himself in the way all representatives of the Order would and Future Initiate Skywalker has much to learn, but he will learn it well.”

Plo didn’t trust himself to answer. He let his hands rest on the arms of his chair and concentrated on keeping calm.

“Of course, of course,” Senator Palpatine continued. “I also wanted to make you aware that on my journey back to Coruscant I was contacted by Queen Amidala. She was kind enough to share with me some information she found out about Obi-Wan and Anakin. She had apparently already told you about some Mandalorian,” he wrinkled his nose with obvious distaste. “Has been following those boys. I’m afraid their disappearance isn’t much of a mystery anymore.”

Plo leaned back in his seat. “We were only told that there was a Mandalorian on Naboo. Are you insinuating something further?”

With a great, drawn-out sigh, Senator Palpatine shook his head. “I know it’s hard to think about, but it seems clear to me that those boys have been kidnapped. Or perhaps worse.”

Master Yoda tightened his hands around his gimer stick. To anyone who knew him, it was clear as daylight that he was disturbed by the idea, the same as he would be at the suggestion that any of their younglings would be harmed. “That is a guess. There is no proof of anything.” Master Yoda spoke with a serenity that Plo didn’t believe at all.

Senator Palpatine watched Master Yoda with pity. “We all know what Mandalorians are - brutal and savage. They care only for war and they have brought nothing to the galaxy but grief and pain as they searched for that war. I believe that it is our moral responsibility to do everything in our power to bring Obi-Wan and Anakin home. They must be saved from those monsters. No matter the cost.”

Mace said, “There is no reason to think the worst at this point.”

“No reason?” Senator Palpatine looked shocked. “How can we not think the worst? The history between the Jedi and the Mandalorians speaks for itself. They are a hateful people and I have no doubt that if one of them found a Jedi, they would have wasted no time in killing them. I think we can only hope for a kidnapping. Perhaps they thought Obi-Wan and Anakin were simple travelers and kidnapped them. I have heard they practice a vile from of indoctrination, brain washing their victims into thinking they want to be Mandalorians. That is how they increase their numbers.”

“Those are rumors, Senator,” Mace told him, evenly.

They were disturbing rumors, but nothing had ever really been proven one way or the other.

With an understanding nod, Senator Palpatine said, “Yes, and we can hope there is no truth to those rumors, but if drastic action needs to be taken to retrieve Obi-Wan and Anakin, I can assure you that the other members of the Senate I spoke to about this issue felt much the same as I do and will do what is necessary to show the Mandalorians we will not stand for such actions. Certainly not against two such remarkable boys. I have heard that Obi-Wan’s skill are amazing; I’m certain he must be the best of his age group. And Anakin, from what little I’ve seen of him, has a sharp mind and tenacity one doesn’t often see in such a young child. You should all be very proud of them.”

The transmission ended and the Council Chamber was silent for a long time.

Master Yoda shook his head, his disapproval clear. “He complimented them right to their faces. Unacceptable.”

“Obi-Wan is such a sensitive dear, he must have blushed right down to his toes. I do not like that the senator used their given names,” Plo sniffed, sharply. “It’s entirely too familiar. An adult calling one of our younglings by their given name... it’s nothing short of vulgar. Mace, you even emphasized using their proper titles of ‘Padawan Kenobi’ and ‘Future Initiate Skywalker’, but he kept using their given names.”

“Obi-Wan has friends outside the Order,” Mace said. “Friends he has allowed to use his given name.”

“Yes, friends his own age and that is entirely acceptable. But I hardly think Obi-Wan would give an adult he hardly knows permission to use his name.” Plo actually had to stand up and walk around to calm himself. “Still, I expect it was only ignorance. It’s not as if many people outside our Order know our customs.”

“Maybe if, just once, someone bothered to ask about our customs, they might learn.” Mace folded his hands in front of himself as he often did while speaking. “We have more to worry about than being offended on behalf of our younglings. Senator Palpatine will cause a war, if he keeps talking like that. He’ll persuade other senators that the Mandalorians are a serious threat to the Republic and he’ll use our younglings to do it.” He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “I hope he’s not doing it deliberately.”

They all knew he most likely was doing it deliberately.

“Yes,” Master Yoda got up from his seat and walked behind the chairs to look out the window at the Senate building. “He speaks as if it is certain that they are responsible for Obi-Wan and Anakin’s disappearance.”

Plo went to stand next to Master Yoda. “If he hates Mandalorians so much, what does that mean for us? If he orders us to strike at them,” the idea of open warfare against a people who were not proven in the wrong sent a chill through Plo. “We will have no choice. We must do as the chancellor orders and he is set to officially take the position of chancellor as soon as he can.”

“In that case,” Mace slung his go-bag over his shoulder. “We will not give him any excuse to send us to war. We will bring our younglings home before any damage can be done. Let’s go.”

Plo took up his bag and they both bowed to Master Yoda who said to them, “Be safe and return to us with our missing loved ones. May the Force be with you.”

They left and headed for the hanger where they would take one of the Temple’s few ships to go first to find Master Dooku and then on to where that message from Anakin had come from.

Bral-
Aranar-

Aranar woke up the minute Pup Jango walked into the den.

“Sweetie Pie,” Pup Jango called out in sing-song voice when he entered. “Time to wake up.” He went straight to the far corner of the room and dropped to his knees next to the nest Aranar had made out of blankets. Jango cooed and grinned when Aranar licked his face. “There you are. Sweetie Pie, want to go for a little hunt?” Pup Jango lovingly patted Aranar’s head and scratched its floppy ears. “Who’s the most lovely Striil ever? That’s right - you are! You can help me out a lot and you haven’t been hunting in ages.” He leaned forward and touched his forehead to Aranar’s. “Come help me find a little one, won’t you? He’s hiding and upset.”

Aranar wouldn’t admit to understanding everything Pup Jango said, but it did understand the word ‘hunt’ and that was the most important word. It turned back to its nest to give its youngest pup, Pup Kal, a lick on the cheek and reminded it to behave and stay in the nest before turning and following Pup Jango out of the room.

Pup Jango was a good pup... a little troublesome at times, but generally good. Just like Aranar’s oldest, Pup Jaster. They were funny looking creatures, the whole lot of the things that lived with the Striil on the ship - only four limbs and two of them were never used for walking or running. It seemed a rather inefficient use of those limbs, but Aranar, like all other Striil who lived with their pups on the ship, was remarkably fond of all its pups - no matter how funny looking they were.

Why, it remembered when Pup Jaster had begun to mature and had brought home a pup of his own, Pup Jango. Aranar didn’t have any idea where the little, curly furred Pup Jango had come from, and it had taken quite a while for it to train him how to behave, but he’d grown into quite a sensible little dear. And so cute. All the other Striil complimented Aranar on how adorable Pup Jango was.

Pup Jango stood up on his hind legs and motioned towards the door of the den. “Let go. Let’s go hunt.”

At once, Pup Kal bounced up to its feet. “Me, too! Wanna hunt! Wanna hunt, parent!”

It was such a display, that it made Aranar bark a laugh before it put a paw on its child and gently pushed it back to laying down in the nest. “Stay. Too young.”

Pup Kal huffed. “Sibling Jango gets to go.”

“Sibling Jango is older than you. Stay.”

Aranar and Pup Jango left the den and walked side-by-side down the hall with so many other people wearing the hard shells. Many of them did not have Striil to care for them. It was very sad. It was in one of the long halls that Pup Jango stopped walking and squatted down in front of Aranar. He held out a blaster.

“The little one was holding this. Can you get a scent? There are too many people walking around these halls and my helmet can’t find his trail.”

Aranar sniffed at the blaster and immediately found the scent that was entirely unfamiliar. It was a soft scent - dry wind and oil - and after only a few minutes of following it through the halls, Aranar came to an opening in the wall of the hall. Aranar stuck her muzzle into the opening and, yes, the scent was defiantly coming from there. The little one wasn’t far into the tunnel, and he was very young, even younger than Pup Jango had been when Pup Jaster had brought him home. Pup Jango had been an angry little thing, all snarling and biting, but this one was a mess of both anger and fear. It waved a hand at Aranar and whimpered pitifully. When Aranar went further in and grabbed the tiny pup by one of its limbs, the little thing squawked and pulled away from Aranar, as if it would release the little pup. The tiny thing was so little that he shouldn’t have been away from his parent, surely.

Pup Jango called out softly to the little one and with that encouragement, it finally allowed Aranar to lead him out of the tunnel.

Pup Jango called the tiny pup, Anakin, and he was the tiniest pup that Aranar had seen on the ship. Pup Anakin was clearly in distress and Aranar couldn’t let that sort of thing go. It followed along while Pup Jango led the littlest pup through the ship and to the place where sick and injured people went. When Aranar saw that they would stay in that place, it ran out of the room and dashed through the halls back to where it had left Pup Kal. Pup Kal was eager enough to follow along on a little adventure and waited at the door of the den for Aranar to catch up. Aranar gathered up as many blankets that made up its nest as possible in its jaws, then led the way back to the room where it had left Pup Jango and the littlest pup.

Aranar carefully rebuilt its nest in a quiet, out of the way corner of the room. Then it herded Pup Kal into the nest before it went to Pup Anakin and took him to the nest. Pup Anakin fussed, as frightened pups often do, but Aranar was determined and grabbed his sleeve again to pull him to the nest.

“It’s alright,” Pup Jango told Pup Anakin. “Its' worried about you. I think it wants you to take a nap.”

“I’m not a baby!” Pup Anakin exclaimed even as Aranar put a paw on Pup Anakin’s shoulder and nudged him into sitting in the nest. Pup Kal crawled onto Pup Anakin’s lap and quickly fell asleep. When Aranar was satisfied that the youngest pups were safe, it looked up at the other new person in the room. Aranar leapt up and put its first set of paws on the bed to examine the person sleeping there. It was an older pup, perhaps not quite as old as Pup Jango, and had a very fine showing of red fur on its head. Like Pup Anakin, this new one was rather pale. It was deeply asleep. No point in moving the new one when it was already asleep. Aranar looked at its' nest and then back at the red furred pup. It was going to need a bigger nest. It then cast an appraising eye at Pup Jango, who immediately stood up.

“Sorry, Aranar. I haven’t got time for a nap.”

Aranar sniffed. It would catch Pup Jango for a nap, later.

To Be Continued...

Kal - Knife
Aranar- Defend

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Communications

Herna-

She had tried to follow when her boy’s ship had jumped to hyperspace, but as she’d had no idea where he had been heading, it was impossible. He could have been anywhere in the galaxy.

She couldn’t go to him.

Couldn’t get him.

Away from Naboo, away from the remains of those pirates, Herna sat in the cockpit of her ship and tried to think of some way to find her boy, but her whole mind kept getting cloudy with thoughts and memories of her boy. She stood up from the pilot’s seat and walked out of the cockpit and into the main room of the ship. The ship was small, only built for a few crew members and perhaps a couple of passengers, but it gave her enough room to pace.

In the middle of her pacing, Herna stopped and ran both hands over the top of her head. She had to keep calm. She had to. But her vision turned red and, without warning, the fury inside her seemed to erupt and she let out a guttural, ugly sound and she slammed both fists against a wall. Pain shot from her hands up her arms, but she ignored it and hit the wall again and again until her hands went numb.

“You can’t have him!” She threw back her head and screeched at the galaxy. “He’s mine!”

Memory-

Herna waited for her companions in the port. There were hundreds of ships docked in the port of Keldabe - traders, travelers, and whatever else had drawn people to Keldabe. Herna had been the first one of her people off the ship they’d traveled in and it gave her a moment to look around. Keldabe was an immense city, as was to be expected of the capital city of Mandalore, and the docks around it were bustling with life. Herna stood in a discrete corner, deep in shadows, between two of the many eateries that littered the port to take advantage of hungry, tried travelers eager for good food. She didn’t eat or drink, merely waited. She ignored the very few people who noticed her and their curious looks. She was on Mandalore for a purpose, all she needed to do was wait for her people. It was while she was waiting that she saw the boy.

“Obi-Wan, you wait here. I need to check in with the Council before we go into Keldabe.” The voice was as smooth and rich as worn leather.

Herna turned her head just enough to see two Jedi approach out of the crowd. They each wore the normal brown robes that all Jedi wore.

“Yes, Master Qui-Gon.” The smaller of the two Jedi, Obi-Wan, bowed to the taller one, then dutifully went to stand quietly next to a wall of one of the eateries as his taller companion walked away. He pulled down the hood of his robe and revealed a round faced boy with a shock of red hair and freckles across his nose and cheeks. He watched the busy port with wide blue eyes and a gentle smile showing his honest curiosity about everything around him. There was a single braid that hung nearly to his right shoulder - the mark of a Jedi child. He was no Jedi, but a Jedi child! He couldn’t have been older than thirteen years old, if he was human, which he certainly seemed to be.

Such a perfect child.

And left alone. He shouldn’t have been left alone. If he was properly cared for, he wouldn’t have been so abandoned. Herna looked around at all the people. So many people - Mandalorians and others - and surely not all of them were good people. She could tell. She could see in their eyes when they looked at Obi-Wan as they passed by him that they were dangerous. They wanted to have him and that could not be tolerated.

The taller Jedi returned. He spoke briefly to Obi-Wan, then they started walking away together. Herna watched them go and felt her heart break. She didn’t want her boy to walk away. He should stay. He’d look splendid in armor. She took a step to follow him, to give chase and bring him to her side, where he belonged. She could explain and he would understand. She knew she’d be a loving buir. She needed to speak with him, needed to look him in the eyes and hold him close. She took another step, ready to run to him, when the taller Jedi turned his head.

Herna froze in place.

The taller Jedi didn’t stop walking, but he looked over his shoulder and he looked directly at Herna. He was an older man with long, graying hair. His eyes narrowed and Herna was afraid. He was dangerous. He was dangerous and he didn’t want her near her boy. The tall Jedi put an easy, relaxed hand on her boy’s shoulder, guiding him steadily away from Herna.

A crack and great rip of sound and a concussion wave slammed through the port. People were knocked down, thrown into the side of the massive Transport Authority building, into the eateries, and to the ground. An explosion. The whole port shook. There was screaming. Dust filled the air. Herna blinked and lost sight of her boy as chaos overtook the port.

There were cries of, “Deathwatch! Deathwatch attack!”

“Vod!” The familiar voice of a friend rang out through the communicator in her helmet. “Back to the ship!”

She turned and saw her people rushing back onto their ship. In the middle of her completely armored people there were three unarmored people - one adult and two small children being carried - all rushed into the ship. She turned back to where she’d last seen her boy. The dust settled. The crowds vanished as people ran to safety or to fight. Nearly alone in the port, Herna stared at where her boy had been, where that tall Jedi had been leading him away.

Gone.

There was no sign of him or any clue about where he might have been taken to. Yes, he hadn’t gone, he’d been taken. That terrible Jedi had taken Herna’s boy. Her hands clenched at her sides. If it took her the next millennium, she would find her boy and bring him to her side.

Because she loved him. She obviously loved him more than anyone else could. And because she loved him so well, she would find him and she would never let him go.

End Memory-

“Where did you go? That Temple?” It was the obvious place. Of course he would return there. But she had tried to sneak him out of the Jedi Temple when she’d first realized that he must live there. For years she had tried to find some way to get safely in and out of that Temple, to rescue him. Their security was top notch, with armed guards at every entrance and exit, and their computers protected by the most sophisticated safe-guards. She had patiently waited and tried to find him outside that hated Temple, but she was sick to death of waiting. “Not going to lose you. Not a second time!”

Herna threw back her head and screamed at herself... at the ship... at nothing and everything. She just screamed. She screamed until her voice gave way and she was left so out of breath that she saw stars.

Gasping for air, she said to herself, “If I can’t secret him out, then I must be ruthless. By any means necessary, I will get him!” It would be dangerous. Her boy could be hurt if she went in with blasters blazing, but she had to try. They didn’t love him like she did, after all, and he obviously didn’t want to be with them.

The more she thought about her boy fleeing back to that Temple - to the very people who had separated them! - the more she felt fury bubbling inside her.

Just thinking about her boy in the hands of the Jedi infuriated her. But the Jedi weren’t unstoppable. She went to her weapons storage, a large crate where she kept blasters, blades, and all manner of weaponry. In there, she found a rarely used slug thrower. The small metal weapon, which somewhat resembled a blaster, shot small metal projectiles at high speed and were one of the only weapons that could penetrate the defense of a Jedi’s light saber. With a slug thrower, she felt sure that she could put down any Jedi who stood between her and her boy.

Her people might be trouble, though. They’d be angry when she brought Obi-Wan home. Her boy. Her sweet boy. She was sure her people would come to understand. Surely, they would understand when they saw what a perfect little warrior he was. Yes. Yes. They would love him.

Herna took two steps towards the cockpit when she suddenly frozen. Her people would love Obi-Wan. Perhaps... too much. He was adorable and clearly the most perfect child. Her people might try to take him away. They might hide him from her, just like the stinking Jedi had.

“No,” she said, aloud. “Can’t have that. Not after all this time. I’ll have to take him away. Yes. Far away. Somewhere no one will ever find him!”

The ship’s communicator went off. She wanted to ignore it. She planned to ignore it. But then the proximity alarm began to flash to signal that there was another ship nearby. She ran back to the pilot seat and looked out the windows where she saw not one, but three small ships. Two flanked her while one flew directly behind her. The ships weren’t marked, but she knew who they were and she immediately put her helmet back on.

She reluctantly activated the communicator and a hologram of familiar helmet appeared over the communication system. “Vod, we’ve been sent to fetch you.”

Herna’s hands, on her lap and out of sight, clenched. “That’s unnecessary. I’m not in need of assistance.” She desperately thought, ‘Go. Leave. Just leave!’

But the familiar helmet displayed on her communicator system was resolute. “It’s time to return. The Solstice Storm is due to begin. We would not have you beyond our reach.”

“I am capable of surviving two weeks outside the Empire alone.” If they would simply leave, she could go to the Jedi Temple. She had plans to make. She needed to get schematics of the Jedi Temple and plot her attack. If possible, she would prefer to find a way to smuggle her boy out without having to shoot their way out because her boy was clearly sensitive and it would upset him. Still, she would shoot their way out, if she needed to. She could comfort her boy later, when she had him secured on her ship and flying far from the Jedi. But, before all that, she needed her vod to go away. “I should think that I am trusted enough to take care of myself.”

There was little reaction from the helmet staring back at her. “You willingly broke a contract with a paying client. You disregarded attempts to contact you. There will be questions. Come. It is time to return to the aliit. We will escort you home.”

They left Herna no choice and they both knew it. She was outnumbered and couldn’t cause a scene without the risk of being taken back to her people as a prisoner and that would only delay getting her boy. So it was with very ill grace that she acquiesced and programmed the ship to follow her vod.

Elsewhere-
Master Dooku-

Qui-Gon was there.

Soft and steady and laughing in everyone’s face so politely that they never had a clue they were being mocked. Dooku’s quick and clever padawan... he was there. His presence in the Force was unmistakable as was the feeling that Qui-Gon was trying to comfort him. Dooku didn’t need comforting. He was the one who did the comforting - he was the Master, after all.

Dooku opened his eyes and, for a time, stared at the ceiling of his ship. A mistake. He’d been mistaken. The ship was empty, but for him. Qui-Gon was not there. Of course he wasn’t. He was dead. Dooku blinked a few times and worked to center his mind.

Fallen.

He had fallen.

His head hurt, both on the outside and the inside. The outside pain, where he’d obviously hit his head when he’d fallen, was bearable. He’d suffered far worse in his life. The pain inside his head... the bond was broken. Dooku had several padawans, all of whom he was rightfully proud of. It wasn’t a very Jedi like quality to be ‘proud’, but he felt it all the same. He had always chosen his padawans with great care, taken pains to give them the best possible education and, while they had all turned out incredibly different front one another, they had all become strong, respected Jedi. The bonds he held with his padawans were like warm little stars in his mind. All but Qui-Gon. That little star was gone, replaced with a burning black hole. It was fire and it was pain and his padawan was dead.

Soft and steady... a deep laugh.

He could almost... almost... feel Qui-Gon’s presence in the ship with him. But his mind burned, so that couldn’t be true.

Soft... strong... steady... dancing eyes of mischief.

Dooku put both hands to his face. His rubbed his eyes and blinked a few times to wake himself up. He took a deep breath and forced himself to look at the pain left in Qui-Gon’s absence. He had never lost a padawan before. The grief and anger was almost unbearable. He hadn’t felt such strong emotions in years and certainly hadn’t been so undisciplined as to wallow in them in such an immature manner.

“Keep this up,” he muttered to himself. “And Master Yoda will think he has a junior padawan on his hands, again.”

Dooku pushed all his unhelpful, inconvenient emotions to the side until he could breathe easily. He stood up and checked himself for injuries.

His head was bleeding and had left a rather remarkable puddle of blood on the floor where he’d laid while unconscious. Some of that blood had dried on his clothes, making them stick to his back, so he guessed he must have been laying there, in his own blood, for some time. He sniff at his morbid thought. There were more important issues to deal with. He finished checking himself for physical injuries and, when he found no more, he went back to sit in the pilot’s seat.

He took a first aid kit from under the pilot’s seat and took out bacta and bandages to tend his injury. It took very little time. He’d had to deal with injuries - his own and others - many times over the course of years, whether it was an injury due to battle or because one of his silly padawans had decided to do something foolish that resulted in anything from a twisted ankle to a knocked-out tooth. When he was satisfied with his treatment and had put the first aid kit away, he looked back at the console of his ship. He’d come out of hyperspace, but was still a fair distance from the Temple.

Information.

He needed information.

Plo had said that Qui-Gon had gone to Tatooine with Little Obi-Wan and brought back a new child, Anakin Skywalker. Then they had gone on to Naboo to finish Qui-Gon’s mission there. He looked on the general news feed to find any current information about Naboo. He found clips about a recent battle and an overly dramatic celebration with video recording of little Obi-Wan standing next to a small fair-haired boy and Naboo’s child Queen. The child Queen gave a short speech about gratitude to the Jedi who had given up everything and Dooku knew. He knew she spoke of Qui-Gon. He turned his focus on little Obi-Wan. Not so little, perhaps. Many would consider him a young man, but Dooku knew better. Obi-Wan was still so young - practically a crechling in arms. He also didn’t miss that the little boy at Obi-Wan’s side had a hand tightly clenched on Obi-Wan’s sleeve - as he might have a security blanket or favored stuff animal - and watched the crowds with fear only barely hidden in his eyes.

Obviously, Anakin Skywalker.

Anakin would have been the youngest of Dooku’s Line, had Qui-Gon lived. Dooku could imagine how it might have played out. Anakin would have been taken into a clan in the creche and, after Obi-Wan had been properly knighted, Anakin would have been brought into Dooku’s Line with all due ceremony as tradition demanded. Qui-Gon would have first brought the child to Dooku’s rooms at the Temple and would have formally introduced them. Later, surrounded by the Council members as well as Dooku and his Line as witnesses, Qui-Gon would sit on the floor of the Council Chamber. Just as he had with Obi-Wan and his other padawans, Qui-Gon would have had the newest little padawan sit cross-legged in front of him as he tied a few short strands of hair into a padawan braid.

Dooku could imagine that, later, he would find Anakin running happily around the Room of a Thousand Fountains with friends while a newly knighted Obi-Wan, steady and responsible as ever, watched to ensure no one managed to hurt themselves. Dooku imagined himself taking Anakin under his protection for a time if Qui-Gon were assigned a mission too dangerous for such a young padawan. It would have been perfect.

Instead, that little boy was clinging to Obi-Wan for reassurance while Obi-Wan himself surely needed a strong, dependable adult to lean on while he mourned... and Dooku wasn’t with them. He wasn’t there to be strong for those boys. The news feed was hours old and they would have likely already left Naboo. Were they enroute to the Temple? Or had they arrived? Dooku had friends at the Temple who would care for them until he arrived, but he wanted to be with them immediately. They needed him.

It took some time before he noticed that the communication system on his ship’s console was flashing to indicate someone was trying to reach him. It was Plo and he’d tried to reach Dooku several times.

He pressed the button to accept the transmission and then Plo’s holographic face was in front of him, hovering just over the communication system. “Thank goodness,” Plo said, clear relief in his deep voice. “We’ve been trying to reach you for hours, Dooku.”

It took only a glance at Plo’s hologram to see that he was no longer at the Temple. He was in a ship and Dooku could see someone’s elbow in the image, too. Dooku opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He opened it, again, but his words escaped him. Finally, “Qui-Gon.”

Plo face fell. “Yes. We were informed that he died on Naboo. He has rejoined the Force. We rejoice for him.”

“I rejoice for him.” The words felt as if they were wrenched out of him and they were a lie. He did not rejoice. He was bitter and he wanted his padawan and he could have hated himself for it. Qui-Gon didn’t deserve such ugly feelings at his passing and Dooku was surely a wretched Master for not being able to summon up any good feelings at such a time, but in that moment, with the burning hole in his mind, he couldn’t. He put his hands on his lap and summoned every bit of calm he could find within himself. “Plo... my mind... my bond with Qui-Gon...”

Plo nodded and even though they were many, many light years from each other and even the Force couldn’t reach so far, Dooku knew his friend had nothing but compassion and sympathy for him. “I have lost many padawans in my life and it is never easy. We are coming to you. As soon as we’ve joined you, I’ll do everything I can to help you. Now that you’ve come out of hyperspace, we’ve locked onto your beacon and we’ll reach you very soon.”

“We?”

The holographic image changed to show not only Plo and the ship around him, but Mace Windu, who sat in the pilot’s seat. “Greetings, Master Dooku. Keep your ship in one place. We’re almost there.”

Mace was the Master of the Order. He had been so busy that he hadn’t left the Temple to go anywhere other than the Senate for several years. To see him away from the Temple could only mean that something disastrous has happened and while Qui-Gon’s death was, obviously, disastrous and one of the most tragic things that could have possibly happened, it was done. There was nothing that Mace could do about it. Which meant it was something else.

Plo said, “Dooku? Please stop your ship. It will make it easier to get to you.”

Dooku ignored him. Something... something... what else would bring Mace so far from the Temple? Something big, something important.

“Master Dooku?” Mace raised his voice. “Are you listening? We’ve nearly reached you; please stop your ship.”

He thought and thought. It couldn’t be him. There was no reason for Mace to leave the Temple for one old Master. Mace knew very well that Dooku was perfectly capable of taking care of himself and was certainly not in need of rescuing of any kind. Yet, he was on his way and whatever had drawn Mace away from the Temple clearly had something to do with Dooku, which meant...

Dooku’s eyes narrowed.

Plo and Mace both winced at the same time, likely at seeing Dooku's expression. Plo said, “Now, Dooku... try to keep calm...”

Dooku leaned forward, glaring at his friends. “Where are they?” Dooku snarled the words in a furious whisper. “Where are my grandpadawans?!”

To Be Continued...

Translations:

Buir - parent
Vod- sibling / comrade
Aliit - clan / tribe

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: Wrong

Coruscant-
Jedi Temple-
Master Yoda-

With Mace, the Master of the Order, away from the Temple on a rescue mission, it fell to Yoda, the Grandmaster of the Order by virtue of his great age, to keep things running smoothly.

He took the reins with enthusiasm.

The biggest job would be to make sure all of Mace’s usual tasks were dealt with. Yoda knew very well that most of Mace’s time was demanded by argumentative politicians who did nothing but give Mace headaches. As he was reasonably sure the politicians could survive without a Jedi for a few days and that Senator Palpatine would be contacting the Council later that day, he had decided that it would be best for the Council members to be occupied away from the Council Chamber.

When his fellow Council members arrived in the Council Chamber, Yoda was waiting for them and happily gave out their assignments.

“Are you sure about this, Master Yoda?” Depa asked. “I’m pretty sure Master Mace didn’t...” She glanced down at the computer pad she held that had her assignment from Master Yoda on it. “He didn’t sing to the younglings in the nursery. Surely, we shouldn’t be playing around when some of the younglings are lost.”

“Masters Windu and Koon will save the younglings and nothing can be done until they are found. For now, new assignments will keep the mind fresh and sharp and better able to help others.” Yoda smiled at her. “You go and have fun.”

He knew very well that Depa loved to sing so he wasn’t surprised to see her face light up even as she hurried out of the Council Chamber with a hurried, “Yes, Master Yoda. Thank you!”

Giving out the rest of the jobs was just as pleasant. The Council members had protested, at first. They sincerely wanted to help with Mace’s responsibilities, but Yoda wouldn’t be swayed. He’d spent a full morning finding the perfect jobs for his fellow Council members.

Those perfect jobs included tasks such as ‘story time in the creche’ or ‘watering flowers in the greenhouse’. Mace had never once in his life done either of those tasks. Nor had he ever, in his position as Master of the Order, been duty bound to ‘leisure reading in the Archives’ or, a new favorite duty that had appeared once Yoda had begun assigning work, ‘long walk in the sunshine.’ He was going to keep that one and permanently assign Mace to that duty for one hour every day. He could use it. In fact, Yoda was seriously debating permanently assigning ‘long walk in the sunshine’ for everyone on the Council. It would do them nothing but good.

Once all the new duties that Yoda had thought up for his fellow Jedi had been assigned, he was left entirely alone in the Council Chamber. Satisfied that the day was working out just as he’d planned, he took some time to mediate. With the continuous grief over Qui-Gon’s death and the worry for a missing Dooku and two missing younglings, meditating greatly helped to settle his mind. After meditating, his mind was clear and settled with what he suspected would have to be done.

He was entirely unsurprised when Senator, soon-to-be Chancellor, Palpatine contacted the Council.

“I won’t keep you, Master Yoda,” Palpatine said with that soft smile he always seemed to wear. “I’ve been thinking about it and as soon as the boys are found - which I’m sure they will be - I would like to extend an invitation to dinner at my home. Just as a ‘thank you’ for all they did for Naboo and to make sure they’re doing alright after such an ordeal.”

Yoda didn’t like that, but the Jedi were in no position to argue with the man who would be Chancellor, who held so much power over them. Yoda didn’t like it, none of the Jedi did, but centuries old politics had put them squarely in the power of the Chancellor of the Republic.

“They will need time to recover and heal,” Yoda told him. Then, reluctantly, he said, “After that, I will deliver your invitation and find two Masters to accompany them.”

“Oh,” Palpatine chuckled. “That won’t be necessary. Such well-behaved boys don’t need minders. I’ll have then picked up and return them later that evening.”

If Yoda had any good will left for Palpatine, it shriveled up and died in that moment. “That would be inappropriate.” He couldn’t think how he could be blunter than that. Then he extended a hand and used the Force to bring him a book from a bookshelf on the far side of the room. “This book contains very useful information about Jedi Culture. I left a copy of it in your office and I will have this one personally delivered to you if you lost that one. Reading it can prevent offense. We do not allow younglings to leave the Temple unprotected.” There. No riddles, no hidden messages. Even Yoda’s little Dooku couldn’t be more explicit.

“Well, you don’t need to be concerned about that with me. As the Chancellor, I have all the power I could wish for. I can certainly ensure the safety of a couple of boys. And when I formally take the position of Chancellor, I’ll be sure to make the time to have a meeting with the Jedi Council about the relationship between the Chancellor of the Republic and the Jedi, just to be sure we all understand the rules.”

Yoda could feel the Force screaming ‘threat!’ at him right through Palpatine’s words. Palpatine had flatly refused information about the Jedi culture which could only mean he didn’t have any interest or respect for it. He was blatantly reminding Yoda of the power he was soon to have over the Jedi and made no secret of the fact that he planned to use that power to require the company of two underaged younglings in his home without supervision.

Palpatine kept smiling. “So, with that in mind, I’m sure you’ll be good enough to make it happen, won’t you?”

“No.”

Senator Palpatine faltered. “What?”

“No. Padawan Kenobi and Future Initiate Skywalker will not be permitted to visit you.”

Senator Palpatine kept smiling, though Yoda saw the strain in that smile. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. I can assure you that I would take their welfare very seriously.”

‘Not seriously enough to have a grown-up Jedi with them, though.’ Yoda didn’t say that. Instead, he gave his very best, ‘so sorry, but I’m old and senile so you can’t hold anything I say against me’ smile. “Happiest with the younglings at home, am I. Snatched away by strangers, they will not be. Oh! Look! Flashing button!” He looked down at the communicator controls on his chair’s arm rest - not a single button was flashing - and turned off the transmitter. Once Senator Palpatine’s holographic image was gone, Yoda quickly pressed a few more buttons to refuse any incoming transmissions from Senator Palpatine’s office, then went a little further to have an automated message sent back to Senator Palpatine saying that the Jedi Temple was experiencing technical difficulties and communications would be back up as soon as possible.

Satisfied with his work - the younglings were not beholden to go visit a stranger, he wouldn’t have to talk to Senator Palpatine for at least a full day, and none of his fellow Council members were around to be blamed for his little ‘senile moment’, which was sure to send Mace and Plo into hysterics as they knew very well that Yoda was not senile. Dooku was likely to be less amused, but only because he would have wanted to save Yoda the effort of dealing with a senator. In fact, if he learned that Senator Palpatine was trying to get little Obi-Wan and little Anakin to visit his home without decent supervision, Dooku would have told Senator Palpatine to do something anatomically impossible with a fork.

‘Such a good boy,’ Yoda thought of his dear little Dooku. ‘Always helps his old Master with unpleasant tasks.’

It was clear that Palpatine couldn’t be trusted and while Yoda could say that of many people, Palpatine, as Chancellor of the Republic, was a greater threat. The centuries old agreements made in the Ruusan Reformation had given the Chancellor of the Republic immediate authority over the Jedi. They could withhold funds and supplies until the Jedi did as they were ordered to. It was all perfectly legal and the Jedi had agreed to it those many centuries ago.

But Yoda had read the Ruusan Reformation. He’d had many years to read through it word by word. He knew exactly what the Jedi back then had agreed to and why. He also knew about the fine print on page 10,568 of the Ruusan Reformation.

Funny that no one else had ever seemed to read the whole document. Perhaps if Palpatine had read it, he might not have been so eager to interfere with how the Jedi governed the Temple by trying to force them to give up control over the younglings.

“Too far,” Yoda said to himself. “This goes too far. A chancellor would take our younglings. What next? Other senators taking our younglings? Anyone with a few credits to rub together will walk in and take a youngling or two?” His eyes narrowed as he thought. “No. This goes too far.”

Yoda brought up a holographic image of the galaxy. He saw Republic Territory, the Mandalorian Empire, then Hutt Space. Those were the three largest sections of the galaxy, the only real political powers. But Yoda wasn’t interested in political power. His sharp eyes went beyond all of those, to the Unknown Regions where there were no Empires or Territories or any great powers at all, to the many forgotten planets and moons.

Ilum.

Jedha.

Ahch-To.

It would be a tough choice.

Mandalorian Empire-
The Bral-
Obi-Wan-

Obi-Wan woke slowly and painfully. Every part of him ached. He was hot, tangled in blankets on a firm mattress. The bed sheets weren’t the soft, well-worn ones that he knew from the Temple nor was the mattress the luxurious feather filled ones in the Naboo palace. The mattress was rigid and the bed sheets were crisp. Obi-Wan breathed in and he could smell the cleaning chemicals.

Something was wrong.

Slowly, Obi-Wan opened his eyes. There was an unfamiliar gray ceiling above him with lights so bright that they made him wince. He had woken up in enough dangerous predicaments in his life to be cautious when he found he was no longer on the little ship Padme had given them. He waited for a time with his eyes only cracked open a bit. He heard some slight noise and knew he wasn’t alone. He waited more. There was no attack and all seemed peaceful. After a bit of debate, he fully opened his eyes and turned his head this way and that to look around. The room was a good size with several beds in a long row, all evenly spaced apart. There was quite a bit of medical equipment.

An infirmary.

He was in an infirmary.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. He could see and hear, but it was WRONG. It seemed as if... somehow... his eyes and ears were covered in fog. Things were distant and faded, as if the whole world had gone wrong.

“Hello.”

The voice was deep, rough like the growl of an animal. Obi-Wan pushed himself up on one elbow and looked towards the foot of the bed where he saw two strangers. One of them stood by the door of the room with his arms crossed while the other sat in a chair near the foot of the bed Obi-Wan was in.

Strangers in Mandalorian armor.

Armor.

Mandalorians. They were Mandalorians.

The one sitting in the chair wasn’t wearing his helmet, but it and a computer pad sat on a small table next to him. He was an imposing man - tall and broad shouldered, with a thick neck and a crooked nose. His hair was white as snow and cut very short. It was hard for Obi-Wan to focus on anything but the armor. A Mandalorian. Not a New Mandalorian, they wouldn’t wear armor for anything, but a more traditional type.

Obi-Wan slowly nodded. “Hello.”

The Mandalorian in the chair smiled. “How are you feeling?” He spoke with the distinct accent someone born in the Mandalorian culture had when they spoke Basic.

Obi-Wan tried to lower his shields, to reach out to see if the situation was safe or some sort of trap, but even then he couldn’t really feel anything. It was like looking at paintings of people instead of real people. It was wrong. WRONG! His senses were dulled or blocked or something, but they were wrong!

Obi-Wan felt his heart start to race. He tried, again, to reach out to the Force, and while he did feel it, it was muted. That powerful, nearly overwhelming power that had been with him for his entire life felt as if were barely there and it terrified Obi-Wan. Worst of all - far worse than feeling as if he were cut off from life - he could hardly feel the pain of his broken bond with Master Qui-Gon. It couldn’t have healed - that wasn’t possible without help from another Jedi. It was almost as if there had never been a bond in the first place and Obi-Wan couldn’t bear even the thought of that. He pulled his shields back up and tried to calm himself.

Large, armored hands were on his arms and he opened his eyes to find the white-haired man watching him, his eyebrows drawn together. “Take it easy. You looked like you were starting to panic. There’s nothing for you to fear.”

It could be true... or it could be a lie. Obi-Wan couldn’t tell.

With a lurch, he rolled to the side, away from the stranger, and rolled entirely off the bed. To his utter shock, he wasn’t fast enough to catch himself and fell flat on his face.

“Hey!” The white-haired stranger protested. “Don’t hurt yourself!”

But before Obi-Wan could even look up, another voice snarled, “Alor! What did you do to my patient?!”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught at the word ‘alor’. It didn’t have a direct Basic translation, but was rather close to something like ‘lord’ or ‘superior’.

“Nothing! I just said ‘hello’.”

“Well, don’t say it, again.” And then large hands were on Obi-Wan’s arms, pulling him to his feet and Obi-Wan looked up at whoever had grabbed him. The friendly face looking back at him smiled. “Hello. I’m Doctor Gihan. I’ve been looking after you. Why don’t we get you back to bed?” Without waiting for a reply, he easily picked up Obi-Wan and put him back on the bed Obi-Wan had tried to escape from. He took his time helping Obi-Wan to lay comfortably, going so far as to tuck him in and fluff his pillow. “You need to take it easy for a little while, be gentle with yourself, lad.” He smoothed a large hand across Obi-Wan’s forehead. “There’s no need for you to hurry. You and your little brother are safe."

“Where is my... brother?”

“Taking a nap.” He gestured to a corner of the room. “He’s had a long day.”

In the corner of the room, Anakin was sound asleep, sprawled out on what looked like a rather comfortable pile of soft blankets. He was laying on his back with one arm wrapped around a small strill pup that was sleeping on his chest and Obi-Wan’s robe held in his other hand. An absolutely massive strill, the biggest one Obi-Wan had ever seen, was curled around the both of them, also sleeping.

It was almost ridiculously cute. ‘Force help us all when Anakin realizes how adorable he is.’

“He’s safe and protected. He’s been very brave.” Doctor Gihan said it all calmly. “You are in my infirmary, young man, and we were very worried.” He left and Obi-Wan was left alone with the white-haired alor and the silent Mandalorian by the door.

Mandalore.

Mandalorians.

‘Please don’t be Death Watch,’ Obi-Wan thought, desperately. ‘Don’t be Death Watch, don’t be Death Watch, don’t be Death Watch.’

He looked at the alor and managed a smile. “Your armor is very interesting, sir. I haven’t seen anything like it, before.”

As Obi-Wan had expected, the Mandalorian was more than happy to show off his armor. When he turned slightly to one side, Obi-Wan saw that he had the signet of a mythosaur skull on his pauldron, not a shriek-hawk. They weren’t Death Watch. Obi-Wan’s heart rate slowed with his relief.

The alor took a minute to look Obi-Wan over carefully, assessing. As his connection with the Force was seemingly crippled, Obi-Wan had no idea how he measured up. He suspected not well.

Finally, the alor said, “So, Jedi...”

Obi-Wan winced. There was no denying it, but as he hadn’t been outright attacked, he could consider it a win. Mandalorians weren’t always fond of Jedi, but this one seemed peaceful enough and it wasn’t as if Obi-Wan could hide his braid or robe at that point, anyway.

“I am Jaster Mereel. Your brother told us that you fought and killed a Sith.”

Another wince. He should have expected that Anakin would have been only too happy to talk to people who paid attention to him and, from what Obi-Wan knew of Mandalorians, they’d have taken one look at Anakin’s big, sad eyes and given him all the attention he could handle.

“And that a creepy senator has been a little too friendly.”

That made Obi-Wan cringe. It hadn’t been what Anakin thought. Really, it couldn’t have been. The idea that Senator Palpatine would have any such intentions... it was unthinkable.

“And you spiked a fever bad enough to send you into a seizure where you spoke very good mando’a, so I presume you’ve spent time on Mandalore, even though most Jedi don’t feel comfortable visiting.”

Obi-Wan was definitely feeling too foggy to deal with this conversation. “I’m sorry, but may I ask how we ended up on Mandalore?”

“Oh, we’re not there quite yet. It'll be a little while before we’ll be home. You are our guest for a time.”

“Now, if the pleasantries are quite finished,” Doctor Gihan stepped forward, a scanner held tightly in his hand. “We need some basic information from you. Anakin has told us that your name is Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

Obi-Wan bit his lip at the use of his first name. A cultural misunderstanding was nothing to get upset about. “Yes. It would be proper for you to call me ‘Kenobi’, if it’s not too much to ask.”

“Not at all.” Doctor Gihan made a note on his computer pad. “Now, your age?”

“I’m nineteen. Anakin’s nine.”

“Right.” Again, he made another note. “While you’re our guest, do you have any health issues we need to know about, such as allergies to foods or medication?”

“No, sir. At least, not me. Anakin... I’m not sure about. We haven’t actually known each other very long. We're not blood related, you see.”

There were no further questions about that. Mandalorians had a wonderfully broad definition of family and, as adoption was remarkably commonplace, such a comment was easily accepted so they could move on to more important questions.

The questions continued like that for a time, just simple questions that Obi-Wan had to admit were needed if they were to stay with the Mandalorians for a time. What species were Obi-Wan and Anakin? Did either of them have any artificial body parts that would require maintenance? “Kenobi, I would very much like to know what illness you had that caused such a high fever and why it is suddenly gone. I can find no traces of any virus or bacteria in you and while my readings indicate that you are suffering from exhaustion due to your illness, along with being a bit dehydrated, you show little other sign that you’ve recently been ill. If this is something contagious, I need to know.”

But Obi-Wan didn’t really remember being ill at all. He remembered he’d been in Padme’s ship with Anakin, that he’d had a bit of a cold, but nothing else. Before that, he’d been feeling a tiny bit under the weather, but it hadn’t been anything to worry about. He hadn’t even bothered to tell Padme. But to have a seizure because of a fever? Obi-Wan thought of how he so suddenly had such a weak connection to the Force. Weak, but not entirely gone. That, combined with the high fever and being tired and weak...

The realization hit him very suddenly.

‘Stupid,’ Obi-Wan thought. ‘I am so very, very stupid.’

In his haste to help Master Qui-Gon, he had gone into the power generator. Had practically fallen into it. Naboo’s power generator used Arkon Waves to run the machines that created energy for the planet. Master Qui-Gon had been very thorough in explaining the danger before they had left on the mission, but there had been no reason at all to think that they would go anywhere near the Power Generator. It was a diplomatic mission that had resulted in battle, nothing at all to do with energy.

Obi-Wan’s stomach sunk to his feet.

Doctor Gihan asked, “Can you tell me exactly what happened to you?”

“I’m sorry, but there’s nothing that can be done.”

Doctor Gihan grumbled. “Why don’t you let me decide that for myself?”

“I really can’t help you.” And how could he? If it became widespread knowledge about what Arkon Waves could do to Jedi, they would all be in grave danger. He’d never betray his family.

The alor raised an eyebrow that was vividly similar to the look Master Qui-Gon used to give Obi-Wan when Obi-Wan did something silly. “I see. Well,” he picked up the computer pad that had been sitting next to his helmet on the little table. “Tell me what you think of this.” He began to read. “It is known that while the Jedi have a great many advantages in warfare, that they are not invincible. In fact, it has been noted that being put in close proximity with Arkon Waves has the effect of weakening them to a debilitated state. This condition, known as Arkon Poisoning, occurs when Arkon Waves attack the midi-chlorian within the cells of a Jedi. Arkon Poisoning is a well-documented condition and will result in such symptoms as lethargy, high fevers, and headaches. If not quickly treated, the midi-chlorian in a Jedi will weaken to such an extent to be nearly dead and make the Jedi’s ability to use the Force negligible.” The alor looked back at Obi-Wan. “Anakin said you’d both just come from Naboo and that you’d fought a Sith in the Naboo power generator which, if I recall, runs on Arkon Waves. Do you still not know what made you sick?”

Obi-Wan’s head spun. “Please. Please don’t tell.” He hated himself for how small his voice sounded.

“It’s not a secret, lad.” He gave his computer pad a little shake. “This is a very old text from many hundreds of years ago, but anyone can find it. All Doctor Gihan and I did was to do a search of your symptoms and cross-reference with the word ‘Jedi’ to find out what had caused your fever and we were led straight to this.”

Obi-Wan barely heard him. “Please don’t tell. If any enemy of the Jedi knew, we’d all be in danger.” And, because he knew what all good Mandalorians had as a soft spot, he added, “Even the younglings would be put in danger.”

The alor put down his computer pad and went to stand next to Obi-Wan. “We are sincerely looking for ways to help you, not trying to bring about the downfall of your people or to threaten any younglings. I wasn’t trying to frighten you. I apologize.”

Obi-Wan lowered his face, ashamed. He was a Jedi padawan. His Master had told the Jedi Council that he was ready to take his Trials to become a Knight. He was trained to control such useless burdens as fear and the fact that he had let it control him so much that a complete stranger obviously saw it just showed how poor of a student he was. Still, he schooled his expression. “I appreciate your concern, alor. But I must think of my people.” He swallowed hard, knowing very well that what he was about to say could have unpleasant consequences. Mandalorians were, as a whole, an honorable people. He liked them. There was every chance that what he felt he needed say wouldn’t turn out horribly. “If there is a price for your silence, I will pay it. Anything.”

“NO!”

Obi-Wan jumped at the shout and turned to see Anakin - such a furious look on his face! - standing in the middle of the pile of blankets he’d been sleeping on with the pup sitting near his feet and Obi-Wan’s robe still in his arms. His hands were balled into fists and his expression was so stormy, almost twisted, with a rage no little child should have.

The Mandalorian who’d been standing at the door went to Anakin and put a hand on his shoulder. “Now, don’t get upset. It’s alright...”

“No!” Anakin shouted, again. “No!” He pushed the Mandalorian’s hand away, then raced to Obi-Wan and shouted at him, “You can’t say things like that!” He broke into what Obi-Wan guessed was Hutteese, then switched back to Basic and stomped his foot. “Don’t be dumb!” He spun around to face the alor and his voice went soft, almost meek. “He doesn’t mean it. He’s still sick and... and he’s prob’ly catchy so you’ll sick if you get close to him and you can’t hurt my Obi ‘cause I was bad! I tried! I tried to be so GOOD!” He nearly wailed the last.

All that emotion and Obi-Wan couldn’t feel Anakin in the Force other than the faintest flicker of pain, couldn’t even comfort him in the Force. So, he used what he could, no matter how ineffective he felt it might be in the face of Anakin’s despair. He held out a hand to Anakin. “You weren’t bad. Please don’t...”

Anakin threw himself at Obi-Wan, wrapping his arms around Obi-Wan as best as he could with Anakin being so short and Obi-Wan still sitting on the high bed. He held onto Obi-Wan until Obi-Wan maneuvered them around so he could slide off the bed and sat on the floor. Anakin cuddled up to his side, muttering and growling, “I tried. I’m sorry. I really, really tried to be good.”

The second Mandalorian said, “There was a little misunderstanding before you woke, Kenobi. A couple of my friends were teasing me and it upset Anakin. He yelled and said some not very nice words, then bolted and hid. He’s afraid we’re going to force him to be adopted and replace his mother. I tried to explain that he’s not in trouble and he didn’t do anything wrong, but seems like I didn’t do a very good job.”

Tightening his arms around Anakin, Obi-Wan told him, “No one will make you get adopted. That’s not going to happen. I promise.” Obi-Wan wasn’t at all above manipulation to keep his family safe. Anakin was adorable, even upset, and while Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t cute, he also knew that the alor had seen his padawan braid and considered him a child. He could use that.

MEMORY-

“Manipulation,” Master Qui-Gon had once told Obi-Wan in the early days of Obi-Wan’s padawanship. “Is a very important skill and it’s time you start practicing.”

“Will we use the Force to manipulate people’s minds?”

“No. That’s a bit advanced for you, at the moment. We’re going to begin with lying.”

“Grandmaster Dooku says lying is bad.”

“Yes, that’s why he doesn’t work with the Senate. He would be honest with the senators which would, inevitably, offend them. He is a Guardian. It’s a very different path than that of a Consular Ambassador.”

“If he’s a Guardian,” Obi-Wan had asked. “Why aren’t you a Guardian? I thought Masters trained their padawans to follow in their path?”

“While that usually is the way it works out, sometimes a padawan finds that their path leads them in a different direction than their Master’s. I am not a Guardian because I found that my talents suited me more towards being a Consular Ambassador. He found other teachers to help me on that path, just as I will for you, if we find that you will be better suited elsewhere. You have had visions, so you may find that you will be a Seer. You also have good skills with a lightsaber, so perhaps you will be a lightsaber instructor. What you will be best suited for will become clear to you as your training progresses and then we will make plans for your more advanced education.”

Still eager to please his Master, Obi-Wan immediately said, “I will be a Consular Ambassador. Like you.”

But Master Qui-Gon had smiled. “We shall see. Being a Consular Ambassador means that you will be dealing with politicians, royalty, business people, criminals, and all other manner of people who will require careful managing to prevent them from doing too much damage. This will necessitate lying, deviousness, and manipulation. These aren’t qualities that people are simply born with, but skills that need to be practiced in order to be perfected. Believe me - the ability to manipulate people will come in very useful, no matter where your path leads.”

“Yes, Master,” Obi-Wan had said, determined. “I’ll practice.”

END MEMORY-

Obi-Wan had practiced and worked very hard to perfect the skills his Master had taught him. So, faced with the responsibility of keeping Anakin safe on a planet far from home and among strangers who may or may not be trustworthy, he put those skills to work.

As he sat on the floor, Obi-Wan looked up at the alor through his eyelashes and tried to look extra pitiful. With Anakin starting to sniffle, Obi-Wan moved to sit on his knees. He hugged Anakin to his side and said, “Don’t cry. I’ll find a way to get us home.” He let his voice choke a little in the middle of that last sentence, as if he were about to start crying, too. Then he moved his head in such a way that his Padawan Braid fell over his shoulder and was plainly visible. When he was sure that he had the alor’s entire attention, he looked up at him, again, and squeezed out a tear. As that tear ran down his cheek, Obi-Wan bowed. He bowed so low that his forehead touched the floor and he said, “We’re at your mercy, alor. Our lives are in your hands.”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Blankets

Middle of Nowhere-
Jedi Temple Ship-
Mace-

Mace Windu was angry.

This was no real shock, he spent a good deal of his time simmering in a stew of anger thanks, mostly, to the Senate. However, as he sat in the pilot’s seat of one of the Order's ships, the Breeze, there were no senators around to bother him. Still, he was angry. It was no great secret that Mace had always had issues with anger. As a youngling, he’d spent far too much time yelling at the crechemaster who wanted him to eat his vegetables. As an initiate, he’d once thrown a chair across a room when no one wanted to play with him. Angry, angry, angry. He was always angry, but he kept it tightly controlled, as he had for many years. He glanced to the side where Master Koon sat in the co-pilot’s seat, watching the holographic image of Master Dooku, intently.

There was no reason to bother Master Koon when there was nothing he could do about it and Mace knew very well that Master Koon would want to help. He always wanted to help. But in this case there wasn’t much to be done about it.

A Sith had killed Qui-Gon. Mace had grown up with Qui-Gon, they had been crechemates. Qui-Gon had died far from home, died in a terrible battle and had been taken from Obi-Wan, young Anakin, and Master Dooku. Master Dooku, whom Mace knew well as he’d often visited the rooms shared by Master Dooku and Qui-Gon when he’d gone to visit his friend, was suffering so much. And it was Mace’s fault.

The anger burned in his veins and he focused on not letting Master Koon sense any of it.

But it was Mace’s fault. All of it. He should have done more when Qui-Gon had reported they’d encountered a Sith. He should have sent more Jedi - though the Senate wouldn’t have allowed it - he should have pulled Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan from the mission - though Qui-Gon wouldn’t have allowed anyone to go in his place - he should have done... something. Something. Anything. If he’d just made a different decision, his friend would be alive and so many people would have been spared pain.

“It’s not your fault.”

Mace looked sharply at Master Koon. Master Koon still watched Master Dooku, monitoring him for any alarming signs of dangerous behavior.

Master Koon said, “Your shielding is perfect, Mace, but I know you. This was not your fault. It just... was. It happened and now it must be dealt with.”

The Breeze was a small ship and had been borrowed from the Temple’s modest hanger. They didn’t have many ships and the ones they did have were quite old. The Breeze was nearly fifty years old, but it was a solid little ship. The Temple mechanics had kept it in perfect condition, as they did with every ship, by going over every piece of it to find even the smallest malfunction that needed to be repaired. In fact, Mace had learned to fly in the Breeze many years ago when he’d been a padawan. It had been years since he’d flown anywhere... years since he’d left Coruscant. He liked flying. Liked being away from Coruscant and the pollution and the crowds and the crime and the Senate... the Senate most of all. But, unfortunately, he was objectively the best suited for the position of Master of the Order and he couldn’t think of a single Jedi he would curse by making them take his place.

“How close are we?”

Mace calmly told Master Koon, “We’ll be in visual range in about two minutes. How’s he doing?”

“Could be better.” Master Koon looked down at the communicator and at Master Dooku’s image. Master Dooku appeared to be pacing and that was more than a little alarming. Master Dooku did not pace. He might admit to striding purposefully in a moving meditation, but he certainly didn’t pace from anxiety. And yet... he was pacing.

“Dooku? Did you hear Mace? We’ll be with you in two minutes.”

Master Dooku didn’t respond.

In all honestly, Mace couldn’t blame him. He tried to imagine what he might do if his own padawan, Depa, died and the thought was, frankly, enraging.

Rage.

If someone had killed Depa - bright, kind, soft Depa - Mace would be enraged and he knew himself well enough to know that he would do far more than pacing.

Mace’s hands tightened on the ship’s console. He had never felt that awful void that inspired almost horror in the Jedi who had lost Masters or Padawans and he knew very well that there was nothing he could do to help Master Dooku. If Master Koon hadn’t come along, Mace couldn’t have done anything more than make sure Master Dooku was safely returned to the Temple where he could get real help. Having Master Koon along made things much easier.

“We need more credits in the Emergency Funds," Mace said. "I took two hundred for this mission, but the fund is getting low. The Senate’s getting stingy, again.”

“We’ll get creative and think of something. How much is left in the Emergency Funds?”

Mace kept staring straight ahead. “Not enough. If we were allowed to take payment for our services... there. There’s Master Dooku.”

Ahead, they saw Master Dooku’s ship. It was still and Mace was thankful. He could have caught it if Master Dooku hadn’t had the sense to halt the ship, but it would have been more difficult. He announced, “Master Dooku, I’m going to lock on and bring your ship in.”

Master Dooku kept pacing.

“You might want to sit.”

Master Dooku kept pacing.

“Right. Of course. People listen to me here just as much as they do in the Senate. Why do I bother? Master Dooku, not that you’re listening, but -”

“Be nice,” Master Koon whispered. “He’s hurting a lot more than we are, right now.”

“I’m going to join both ships now. This is your only warning.” Mace locked the tractor beam onto Master Dooku’s ship and drew it closer and closer before the two ships were close enough that he was able to lock them together at each ship’s docking port - large, round doors on each ship that were kept sealed until the ship locked together with another ship. Both doors could then be opened and people could go freely from one ship to the other. In this case, the moment the docking ports were opened, Mace nodded at Master Koon, who rushed off into Master Dooku’s ship.

A few minutes later, Master Koon returned, leading Master Dooku by the hand.

“I neither need nor want help,” Master Dooku snapped the moment they entered the Breeze, pulling away from Master Koon. “I need to find the younglings. I saw them on Naboo. There was a news broadcast and I saw them, they were alone and I will not let them be alone. You said they were lost and now there’s some insane, murdering Mandalorian chasing them around the galaxy and do you know what an Explosion-Waiting-To-Happen Mandalore is right now? They don’t even have a proper leader. And there’s no telling who this killer is loyal to.” His shields were strong. For all of Master Dooku’s apparent anxiety, his shields didn’t waver. He was in control of himself.

Others who didn’t know Master Dooku well would have surely thought him a cold man with a heart of stone, but Mace did know him. Mace had been there when Master Dooku had shocked the Temple by taking Qui-Gon as his padawan. No one had thought it a good match except, of course, Master Yoda and Master Koon. Qui-Gon had been, to be perfectly honest, a rough youngling. He’d never been one for sitting quietly at anything, never one for enjoying silence. He was far more likely to be to found climbing trees in one of the gardens or playing in the mud in the Room of a Thousand Fountains than he was to be working at his lessons. He laughed, sang, loved, and raged loudly. That the eminently respectable, dour Master Dooku would have chosen such a padawan had stunned everyone and there had even been people who wondered when the unusual padawanship would fail.

Master Yoda had merely laughed at them all, in that infernally knowing way he had. “A good match,” Master Yoda said, fondly, when asked about it. “Both stubborn and willful. Both care so much. Yes... a good match.”

Mace pushed himself away from old memories, to hear Master Koon saying to Master Dooku, “That’s good.” Master Koon put his hands on Master Dooku’s arms and Mace thought of how brave Master Koon was because Master Dooku was not a Jedi to be trifled with when he was in a temper. “I completely agree with you. We both do. That’s why we’re here, in fact. We’re tracking them. But it’s going to take a little while to find them and, in the meantime, I want to help you, little one.”

How strange, Mace thought, to hear anyone but Master Yoda refer to Master Dooku in such a way. But Master Koon was nearly as old as Master Yoda, so perhaps it wasn’t so strange, after all.

Master Koon gently reached up and put a hand on the side of Master Dooku’s face. “There is nothing we can do to help them until we find them. We have time and you need help. You don’t think I’d leave you hurt, do you?”

Master Dooku, feared and respected by all who crossed his path, tall and dignified and always so proper, batted Master Koon’s hands away. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine and I don’t want help. We need to find my grandpadawans!”

It often amazed Mace how outsiders would remark that Jedi were emotionless, completely heartless. Again, he thought of how he might react if his own padawan was killed. As much as Mace would like to think that he could control his emotions in any situation, if Depa were killed and Mace had been alone like Master Dooku had been... he feared he might go crazy. He muttered to himself, “Absolutely crazy.”

Apparently, Mace hadn’t spoken quietly enough. The whole ship went silent.

“What?” Master Dooku’s voice was a soft whisper. “What did you just say to me?”

Mace straightened his back. “Forgive me, but I wasn’t talking about...”

“You are not too big to be put over my knee, young man!”

Mace tried to calm the situation with, “Master Dooku, if you could please let Master Koon help you, then...”

“Do not change the subject! What are you thinking, talking to a Master like that? What would your Master say if she heard that?”

Mace thought, ‘She’d say go for the knees, kick him when he’s down, then run.’ Then he thought, ‘No. Probably best not to say that out loud.’ Instead, he knew he needed to get himself out of Master Dooku’s targeting range and he blurted out the best distraction he could think of. “There’s a senator who was heaping praise on Obi-Wan and Anakin Skywalker. He admitted to doing it right to their faces, too.”

That stopped Master Dooku right in his tracks. He froze, then scowled at Mace... at Master Koon... then back at Mace. “He what?”

Master Koon was rubbing his forehead with one hand. “You’ve helped enough, Mace. Why don’t we get started towards where little Anakin’s distress call came from? Dooku, dear, come and sit with me. I’ll explain what’s been happening.”

Mace turned his attention away from them as much as possible to focus on piloting. Of course, they were sitting right behind him in the passenger area, so it was impossible to ignore them completely, but he tried to give them the illusion of privacy by keeping his eyes on what he was doing.

“You don’t have to worry about that senator,” Master Koon told Master Dooku, reassuringly. “He’s nowhere near the younglings, right now.” There was nothing but fondness and comfort in Master Koon’s voice. “But you will let me help you. I have lost my Master and several padawans. I do know the pain you are suffering. Let me help. I’m here to help. You know that.”

Eventually, Master Dooku muttered, “It hurts.”

“I know. And the sooner we can get you back on your feet, the sooner you’ll be able to help the younglings. I know that’s what you really want. Will you let me show you? Let me help you to help yourself?”

There were no more words and Mace felt it when the Force surged around them, wrapping around them like a large blanket. It was warm and, even to Mace who wasn’t involved, it felt safe. He made the jump to hyperspace and the pinpoints of stars turned into rushing lines of bright whites, yellows, reds, and a multitude of other colors. The ship was silent and Mace saw no reason to spoil it. He had precious little silence in his life.

After a time, Master Koon spoke. “He’ll be alright, Mace. He needs rest. Perhaps Master Yoda should have come instead of me. It would give Dooku great comfort to have his Master with him.”

“Then we’ll make this as fast as we can to get him, and the younglings, back to Master Yoda.”

A light on the console indicated that someone had sent them a message shortly before they’d jumped to hyperspace. When he activated it, it was a text message, rather than live, from Master Yoda. The message had two attachments, one of which was a copy of the Ruusan Reformation, with certain parts highlighted.

The message read, “Mace, read the footnote on page 10,568. Senator Palpatine has made a request. See the attachment.”

The transmission was short and to the point, which worried Mace because anyone who knew Master Yoda knew that he didn’t do short and to the point.

The attachment was an audio recording of a conversation between Master Yoda and Palpatine and it took all of Mace’s well-practiced control to not lash out in anger. He controlled it. He was a master of himself and he controlled the anger... as he always did. Reading between the lines, it was clear that Palpatine was threatening the Jedi in order to get access to the younglings. Unforgivable and certainly couldn’t be dismissed as a misunderstanding.

“Is something wrong?” Master Koon asked.

Mace turned off the recording and closed Yoda’s message, then turned to face them. In the passenger area of the ship, there were several long, padded benches. Master Dooku was laying down on one of them with his head resting in Master Koon’s lap. He was sound asleep.

“Just something to add to my list of chores. Something to think about. How is Master Dooku?”

“Better. I expect he’ll sleep for some hours while his mind heals.”

“But he will heal?”

“Of course. You know this is nothing life threatening in itself. This is a very common injury and it’s simple to deal with once you’ve gone through it and know what to do. He’ll be much more in control of himself when he wakes.”

“Good.” Because he didn’t like the thought of a worryingly irritated Master Dooku running headlong into Mandalorians who might or might not have something to do with the disappearance of the younglings. “I’ll send word back to the Temple that we found Master Dooku and we’re on our way to the closest point to where we traced the distress call from Skywalker as soon as we leave hyperspace.”

Master Koon nodded his understanding and went back to gently stroking Master Dooku’s gray hair.

Sooner or later, Master Koon would have to know what Palpatine was trying to do and how very little effort he was making in being subtle. It was clear that Palpatine was feeling very secure in his power even before he was formally made chancellor. That didn’t bode well for the Order. If he was willing to act in such a vile manner as a mere senator, then what he would attempt when he was Chancellor?

Mace felt a sharp pain in his stomach. Master Che was going to be very cross if Mace returned from his first venture away from the Temple in years with the ulcer she’d been warning him about.

He let a long breath out. “We’ll be in hyperspace for some time,” he told Master Koon. “I’m going to mediate.” Because he really needed to think about the information Master Yoda had sent. There were going to be... consequences.

Mandalorian Empire-
The Bral-
Obi-Wan-

As Obi-Wan bowed on the floor before him, Alor Mereel looked absolutely horrified. “Oh! Get off the floor. Jango,” he looked at the other Mandalorian, still standing near the strill’s nest. “Food! Get them food! You poor little things!” He immediately went to them and urged both Obi-Wan and Anakin from the floor then hugged them both, squeezing them together tightly, but gently enough that it didn’t hurt. “There’s nothing for you to worry about. I won’t let anyone hurt you, on my life! You’ll be safe and protected and blankets! Lots of warm blankets!”

The second Mandalorian, Jango, slapped his forehead. “Buir...”

“Back to bed, young warrior.” Alor Mereel gently bullied Obi-Wan back to sitting on the bed and then he picked up Anakin and put him on the bed with Obi-Wan. Without hesitation, he unfastened the red cape he wore and draped it over Anakin’s shoulders. “Stay here and I’ll get more blankets.”

Jango snapped, “Buir!”

Alor Mereel paused and took a deep breath. Then sat back in his chair. “I think we need a few explanations.”

Anakin shivered.

Alor Mereel stood back up. “After blankets. I’ll get blankets.”

Doctor Gihan protested, “I could just turn up the heat in here... oh, he never listens.”

As soon as Alor Mereel was gone, Jango gave a long, drawn-out sigh and shook his head. “Look, kid,” he said, looking right at Obi-Wan, which Obi-Wan didn’t think was quite fair because Jango didn’t look that much older than him and Obi-Wan was responsible for Anakin, so he wasn’t a foolish little youngling. “That was a real impressive act. I’ll give it to you - you almost had me. You could be in theater with that kind of skill. But don’t do it, again.”

“Do what?” Obi-Wan most certainly would pretend to be a helpless, frightened child if it was going to keep Anakin safe. What kind of guardian would he be if he wasn’t willing to put his dignity on the line?

“You know what I mean, kid. All that ‘I’ll do anything’ and bowing and stuff.” He swaggered over to Obi-Wan, there was no other way to describe the confidant stride that Obi-Wan desperately wished he could imitate. “My father is a noble and honorable man, so he only sees you as a scared kid and wants to protect you, and the True Mandalorians are all good people, but there are people out there, even on Mandalore, who would take advantage of you talking in such a way and... well. You know what would happen.”

For a long moment, Obi-Wan stared at Jango. “No. What?”

“What?”

“What would happen?”

Jango’s eyes narrowed. He crossed his arms and, somehow, that only made him look bigger. “Don’t play dumb.”

“He isn’t playing,” Anakin said, cuddling up closer to Obi-Wan’s side. “He doesn’t get it.”

Jango’s eyes narrowed even further and he stared at Obi-Wan. He tapped his foot.

As the staring dragged on, Obi-Wan began to feel self-conscious. He was missing something and he had no idea what it was. He considered what he’d done and said... none of it seemed dangerous. He had just been trying to make himself look young and vulnerable and he thought he’d done pretty well. Alor Mereel’s reaction showed that Obi-Wan had done very well, in fact. “What are you talking about? Anakin, what don’t I get?”

“Lots of stuff, I think.” Anakin rolled his eyes. “You STILL think that senator was just being ‘nice’.”

“That, again? I really don’t know what put that sort of notion into your head, my dear.” He had hoped that Anakin had forgotten that whole silly business with Senator Palpatine. But Anakin had been a slave and Force only knew what sort of horrors he’d been made to witness in his young life. Probably, he was traumatized. Maybe Anakin had been hurt or had watched his mother get hurt by people more powerful than themselves. That would explain why he thought that a friendly Senator was such a threat. He was probably scared. Obi-Wan looked directly into Anakin’s eyes. “I promise you - I’m very well trained and stronger than I look. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Anakin snorted and wrapped Alor Mereel’s cape tighter around himself. “I can take care of myself. That creepy senator comes near me and I’ll rewire the next speeder he gets into.”

“That isn’t very nice.”

“Good.”

Jango looked back and forth between the two of them as they spoke, then finally gave another big sigh. He went to the strill’s nest of blankets and picked up the pup. With the pup held close to his chest, he walked back to where Obi-Wan and Anakin sat. He gave the bed a pat and whistled at the big strill. “Come on, Aranar. Up.” The huge strill jumped up on the bed without hesitation, then promptly lay down on Obi-Wan’s lap. Jango handed the pup to Anakin. “Right, you two stay put and...”

Alor Mereel returned with an armful of blankets. He dropped one on the strill’s nest in the corner of the room, then wordlessly began to bundle up both Obi-Wan and Anakin. Anakin looked very pleased and snuggled into his blankets with the strill pup. Once all the blankets were piled up on Obi-Wan, Anakin, and both strills, Alor Mereel stepped back and smiled at his work. “Yes,” he said with satisfaction. “Much better. Now, food.”

“No, buir.” Jango pushed the alor back into his chair. “I’ll get food. You explain.”

He left and it was just Obi-Wan and Anakin on the bed facing the alor while Doctor Gihan kept himself discretely in the background.

Obi-Wan gave Alor Mereel a pleading look. “May I speak with my little brother alone, for a moment?” It wouldn’t be real, of course. There was always a chance of concealed listening devices, but even an illusion of privacy would be welcome.

Alor Mereel nodded and silently moved away to speak in hushed tones with Doctor Gihan.

“Are you very mad?” Anakin whispered. “I didn’t want to yell, but I got really angry, really fast.” He shot a quick, worried look at Alor Mereel. “You think he’s angry that I yelled?”

With his connection with the Force so muted, Obi-Wan didn’t really have a good answer. “I’m not mad at you. Sometimes it’s hard to control being angry, especially when you’re very stressed and I think you’ve been very stressed for a while, now.” Being a slave, being taken from his mother, thrown into a war, attacked by pirates... it was a lot for a little boy to deal with in just a couple of days. “As for Alor Mereel, what do your feelings tell you?”

Anakin shrugged and leaned against Obi-Wan. “I dunno. They all said they want to help and no one’s tried to hurt us. That’s good. So I tried really had to behave well so they’d keep being nice, but then I started yelling and now they might get mad. Do you think they’ll hurt us?”

“It’s hard to tell. Take a deep breath and try to be calm, then tell me what you feel.”

Anakin did as he was told. “I think... I think we’re safe. I don’t get bad feelings from any of the people here, not like with that senator or any of the masters on Tatooine. I think I like them. I want to trust them. But what if my feelings are wrong?”

“Feelings aren’t right or wrong - they just are. And while other Force sensitives might try to trick you using the Force, the Force will never lie to you. So, if the Force is telling you that we’re safe, then I think we’re safe. To tell you the truth,” he glanced over at Alor Mereel and Doctor Gihan. “I’ve always rather liked Mandalorians. On the whole, they’re a very good people.”

Even without the Force, it was impossible for Obi-Wan to miss how Anakin relaxed, as if all his tension sudden evaporated. “That’s good. ‘Cause they’ve been nice. When I got really angry at one of them and ran away, they were all nice about it. They didn’t hurt me. No one even yelled at me. It would be hard to hate them, now.”

Alor Mereel strolled back to them. “If you two are done, I think we need a long talk. It has been suggested,” he glanced over at Doctor Gihan. “That I might have overreacted about your earlier... well... bowing. I apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten either of you.” He sat back in the chair he’d been in when Obi-Wan had woken up and looked at Obi-Wan with something that was suspiciously close to pity. That was good. Exactly what Obi-Wan had been aiming for. Alor Mereel continued, “I don’t know what sort of horrible life you’ve been living in that Jedi Temple to make you think you need to beg on your hands and knees for kindness and compassion, but you don’t have to do that here.”

Like a ship crashing into a sun, Obi-Wan’s mind came to a screeching halt. “What?”

Alor Mereel leaned forward and put a hand, large and callused, on Obi-Wan’s. “You’re safe here. I’ll keep saying that until you believe it, but you are safe. If living with the Jedi made you feel like the only way you would get help is to beg for it or to offer... to put yourself in a position where you might be...” he looked away from Obi-Wan and swallowed hard. “Just understand that you don’t need to do that here.” He squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand and looked back at him with such determination that Obi-Wan was taken aback. “You don’t ever have to go back to that Temple.”

“Stop!” Obi-Wan burst out, snatching his hand away from Alor Mereel. “Hold on. Just stop. I think we have a little misunderstanding.” That was most certainly NOT the reaction he’d wanted from Alor Mereel. “No one ever hurt me at the Temple. I’m very happy there. It’s my home and I do want to go back. I just... I need to keep my family safe. I need to keep Anakin safe. I’ll do anything to protect them and if I need to beg, then I will. Whether that’s begging you not to broadcast what you found out about the Arkon Poisoning or begging for help when we can’t get home.”

Alor Mereel considered that, watching Obi-Wan steadily, then finally said, “Alright. While you’re with us, you can tell me all about your Temple. But I don’t want you to keep thinking you need to beg for anything. Understood?”

“Yes, Alor.”

“Obi!” Anakin poked Obi-Wan in the ribs. “You were really sick. You started jerking and twitching and there was blood all over the place. Are you better now?”

“A little. It may take a little while for me to recover completely, but I’m alright for now.” He hesitated, shot a glance at the alor, then added, “For now, I am unable to use the Force. I’m sorry, but I can’t teach you anything until I’m completely well.” And he desperately thought, ‘I’m helpless. I’m not at all dangerous. Don’t thinking we’re a threat to you or your people. I’m definitely helpless.’

Anakin wrinkled his nose. “I don’t care about that. I’m glad you’re getting better. But don’t go promising people you’ll do ANYTHING they say. Some people will make you to do bad stuff.”

“I’m afraid Anakin is right,” Alor Mereel said. “You must think carefully before you say such things. Still, there’s no need to worry about that for now. Welcome to my ship, the Bral.”

With that Obi-Wan sat back and listened as Alor Mereel explained how Obi-Wan and Anakin had come into the custody of Mandalorians.

While Alor Mereel was speaking, Jango returned with food. Anakin had stared at the plate of food Jango handed him. It was piled high with boiled grains, some sort of green vegetable, and a few slices of meat. Obi-Wan remembered how delighted Anakin had been with a meal of bread and butter with water and looked doubtfully at Jango. “Anakin has a rather limited experience with food up until now. Strong spices...”

“This has no spices,” Jango assured him. “We’re used to feeding newcomers.”

Anakin bowed over the food. “Thank you, Young Lord.”

Alor Mereel choked. “What?”

“I heard the other Mandalorians call him that. Is it wrong?”

Alor Mereel raised an eyebrow at Jango. “Silas and Myles?”

Jango nodded, with a put-out sigh. “Silas and Myles and a couple of others.”

A tug on his sleeve made Obi-Wan turn his attention back to Anakin, who whispered, “Do you want to eat first?” He offered the fork that came with the meal to Obi-Wan, but stopped in shock when Jango put an identical plate of food in Obi-Wan’s hands. Anakin’s eyes went comically wide. He looked at the plate he held. “Is it all for me?”

There wasn’t all that much food. It was more than Obi-Wan would have eaten at the Temple, true, but Obi-Wan put that down to Mandalorians who wanted to spoil Anakin. As Obi-Wan firmly believed that Anakin could do with a little spoiling, he answered, “Go ahead. It would be rude to refuse.”

It took no more encouragement for Anakin to dig into the food. He kept eating as Alor Mereel continued to tell them how his people and found them. After a little while, he frowned at Anakin. “You don’t have to eat so quickly. No one will take it away from you.”

Anakin kept pushing food in his mouth and mumbled, “Don’t waste food. Never waste food.”

Obi-Wan warned, “You’ll make yourself vomit if you keep eating like that.”

Anakin shot him an insult look. “I’m not gonna waste food!”

Alor Mereel and Doctor Gihan exchanged a look that Obi-Wan couldn’t quite decipher.

Anakin didn’t end up making himself sick, but when he was done eating, he leaned heavily against Obi-Wan and looked like he might fall asleep. Obi-Wan stopped eating when he had only halfway finished his meal.

“Let me just make sure I have all the facts,” Obi-Wan said when Alor Mereel had finished speaking. “You are Alor Jaster Mereel, soon to be Mand’alor, and you are the Alor of the True Mandalorians. He,” Obi-Wan pointed at Jango. “Is your son. While on a tour of the Mandalorian Empire to inform your people that you were claiming the title of Mand’alor and that they should get ready to challenge you if they wanted to do it before you were formally validated, you came across a distress call that Anakin had sent out after he and I had been attacked by pirates?”

Anakin, much calmer than earlier, nodded eagerly. “I had to fix the hyperdrive and then I hit a few buttons to get us away from the pirates and it brought us out here where Boss Jaster found us. It was a pretty lucky guess for the buttons, huh?”

Lucky guess? It made Obi-Wan pale just to think about it. They could have ended up literally anywhere - inside a sun, on the event horizon of a black hole... anywhere. That Anakin’s random pushing of buttons had managed to take them to the Mandalorian Empire where the majority of the people would have been tripping over themselves to help Anakin because he was a child... it was a miracle. “Wait? ‘Boss Jaster’?”

Anakin pointed at Alor Mereel. “He’s the boss.”

‘Yes,’ Obi-Wan thought. ‘The boss. The Mand’alore. I’m sitting across from the next Mand’alor who thinks the Jedi have been mistreating me. Oh, dear... I think I just created a political incident. Poor Master Windu...’

Obi-Wan tried not to let his distress show, but he gave Anakin an approving smile. “We’ll see that you have lessons in astro-navigation as soon as we get to the Temple. Now,” he looked back at the warrior who was, apparently, the future Mand’alor (where was Satine?) and continued. “When you arrived, I was injured from the pirate’s attack and ill.”

“You thought he was Master Jinn,” Anakin helpfully said. “You cried, too.”

Obi-Wan burned with embarrassment and sheepishly told Alor Mereel, “Forgive me if I caused any discomfort. If it’s of any help, I don’t remember much between leaving Naboo and then waking up here.”

“No reason for an apology,” Alor Mereel assured him. “In fact, I’m rather honored. You spoke the Remembrances for your Master and in them you called him your parent. If you think so well of him, I can hardly be insulted to be mistaken for him.”

Obi-Wan rubbed his eyes. He was very tired. “That’s not... I was just confused. Jedi don’t normally have family relations in the way you're thinking. There are exceptions, of course,” He glanced at Anakin. “But I don’t have family. Not the way you’re thinking of it, anyway. My Master has been very kind to shelter and protect me, to see to my education and my wellbeing, but he’s not my parent. He’s my Master.”

Alor Mereel looked like he wanted to smile. “He took you under his protection when you had no family to care for you?”

Obi-Wan nodded.

“Then to our people, you would be considered his foundling, even if you don’t use the word. To call him your parent is entirely appropriate.”

Obi-Wan knew very well what a foundling was. He’d spent nearly a year on Mandalore when he was younger, it would have been impossible to not learn what a foundling was and what an immense part of traditional Mandalorian culture adoption was. But it wasn’t the same.

He was almost entirely certain he wasn’t a foundling.

Alor Mereel continued, “You’re very welcome here and you certainly aren’t in any danger. No True Mandalorian would ever hurt a child. I’ve already told your brother,” He cast a little smile at Anakin, “That we can’t return you to the Republic territory for a couple of weeks as the Solstice Storm is raging, but we’ll try to get a message through as soon as possible. Anakin also mentioned that you killed a Sith.”

Grimly, Obi-Wan nodded. “He killed my Master.” And how that battle haunted Obi-Wan. His dying Master laying helplessly on the ground while Obi-Wan had gone against the Sith. Master Qui-Gon must have been so ashamed in his last moments of life to see Obi-Wan like that - angry... sad... hurt... swamped by those terrible feelings. He regretted having to kill, but he regretted even more forcing his Master to see him in such a state in his last moments.

The look in Alor Mereel eyes was nothing short of tender. “Fighting in defense of others... admirable.”

Obi-Wan blushed and looked down at his knees. To hear such praise from a complete stranger...well. It wasn’t done. He was far more accustomed to outsiders thinking of him as Master Qui-Gon’s silent shadow and giving him little or no notice.

Alor Mereel said, “We found your Master on your ship, thanks to your brother.”

With a mildly worried look, Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan. It seemed odd to try to judge a person’s emotional state without the Force, but Anakin’s worry was clear. That worry faded only when Obi-Wan squeezed his hand and gave him a smile to silently let him know he’d done nothing wrong. “Yes, Alor. We were transporting him back to the Temple for Last Rites.”

“Your Master is being housed here while your ship is being repaired and when we get back to Mandalore, he will be given a resting place of honor until we can return all of you to your people. You have my word of that. You are my personal guests and under my care. In that vein, you have been ill and we need answers. I would appreciate honesty.” He made a gesture and Doctor Gihan stepped forward.

“No one’s angry with you,” Doctor Gihan said. “Neither of you are in any trouble. But we must know if your illness is contagious and if it is over. I can’t find any signs of illness, now, but is there something I should be looking for?”

“And you won’t tell anyone?”

Doctor Gihan nodded his head, solemnly. “Anything you say here is in confidence.”

Obi-Wan said, “I’ve never seen Arkon Poisoning in person, it’s very rare, but the fever is reportedly the most alarming symptom. At first, it felt like a nasty cold and now I’m very tired, but there probably won’t be any more seizures. I’ll be fine as soon as I get back to the Temple. I swear on my soul, it isn’t contagious. It won’t spread to your people.”

Obi-Wan was very aware that they really were at the alor’s mercy. Though he had Master Qui-Gon’s lightsaber, he couldn’t fight. Not really. Not in the way a Jedi was meant to be able to fight with the Force. Anakin had no training at all. With the Solstice Storm in motion, they had no way to even get back to Republic territory, let alone get to the Temple. The ship that was well supplied to get them to Coruscant was not supplied enough to wait out several weeks until the Solstice Storm passed. They would have run out of food and water long before the storm ended.

Alor Mereel beamed. “Well, given your knowledge of an illness unique to your people, the research I’ve done, and Doctor Gihan’s analysis of your current health, I think it’s entirely appropriate tell you that you are no longer confined to the infirmary. And just in time because,” he gave a quick look at the communicator on the vambrace strapped to his forearm. “We are about to land and you two will get to see the city of Keldabe.”

“Before that,” Doctor Gihan looked at Anakin. “It’s time that someone else has his check-up. Up on the examination bed, Anakin. Let’s see if you got any bumps or bruises during the battle, eh?” He patted the top of the empty exam bed next to Obi-Wan’s bed.

Anakin looked leery, but Obi-Wan gave him an encouraging nod. “We’re guests, now. They’re going to take care of us and I’ll be right here.”

So Anakin unbundled himself from the blankets then climbed onto the tall bed Doctor Gihan indicated and sat there. He smiled up at Doctor Gihan, the pup still lovingly held in his arms, and politely asked, “Are you going to take the bomb out of me, now?”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: The Gift

The Bral-
Jango-

Anakin had a bomb inside him.

A slave bomb.

Jango hated slavers.

His blood boiled at the thought of them.

He should have seen it earlier. So obvious. Anakin was desperately afraid, tried very hard to please and do as he was told. He flipped between silent obedience and bursts of deep anger. He’d seen the gladiator slaves fight to the death on Tatooine and no loving parent would allow their child to witness that carnage, which could only mean he’d had no choice but to be there. He’d raced to eat the food Jango had brought for him, stuffing it in his mouth like a starving animal, as if he were terrified of it being taken away. His mother was still on Tatooine while he was being taken to the Jedi Temple.

Anakin had been a slave.

A sharp slap on the arm jolted Jango out of his thoughts and he was surprised to find Jaster standing in front of him. He put his helmet on to hide his embarrassment. To not notice when approached... such a rookie mistake. Jaster had trained him better.

Jaster leaned in close and muttered, “Do you need to leave? I can handle this.”

Of course he could. Jaster could handle everything. But his eyes were just as angry as Jango felt. He would control it. There would be no outburst as there had been with the food and blankets when Kenobi had bowed to him.

“I’m alright.”

Jaster stared at him. “Are you sure? They need calm, now. We need to let our good doctor do his work.”

“I can do this. I can save this hate for the ones who deserve it, not a helpless kid.” He straightened his shoulders. “I’ll be calm for them.”

Jaster leaned forward and touched their foreheads together. “Good lad,” he whispered.

Doctor Gihan, of course, took it all in stride and smiled at Anakin. “A bomb, huh? Well, that’s nothing we can’t deal with. First off, I’m going to get everyone out of here who isn’t necessary, just in case there’s any sort of little accident.” He waited a moment while another doctor and several nurses left the infirmary. It was all very orderly, all well practiced. After all, it wasn’t the first time a slave had come to them for sanctuary. “Anakin, do you know if the bomb is currently functional?”

“Master Jinn deactivated it. He said he was going to have Padme’s people take the bomb out of me when we got the war settled.”

Doctor Gihan told Anakin, “Well, I think it would be best to get it out of you straight away. Don’t you?”

“Obi said the Temple would take care of everything, so I think he wants me to wait. Right, Obi?” Anakin turned to look at Kenobi. “Obi? You look sick.”

Kenobi had turned a rather impressive shade of green. His hand drifted to his throat and he began to gently rub it. “A bomb? Inside you? But... I thought... collars...” He inhaled sharply, closed his eyes, and stayed that way for several seconds. When he opened his eyes, he got off his bed and stepped closer to Anakin to pat his hand. “I think Doctor Gihan is correct. The bomb should be removed immediately. If you’d told me about it on Naboo, I’m sure Padme’s physicians could have taken it out there.”

Anakin shook his head. “Nope. You said we shouldn’t take their medicine and stuff ‘cause they just had a war and they needed it. I’ve always had the bomb, so I figured it could wait.”

What a horrible way to reason things.

Kenobi squeezed his eyes closed. “Anakin... dear... a bomb inside a person is an emergency. We could have made an exception.”

Anakin crossed his arms at Kenobi. “You said we should help Padme. I want to help.”

“Yes... but...” Kenobi floundered, apparently taken down by his own words.

It was fortunate that Doctor Gihan was the soul of medical professionalism and very used to dealing with emergencies of every kind. He said, “I think we’ll leave that debate for another time. Next question - do you know where this bomb is inside you? Arm? Leg?”

Anakin made a noise that was probably meant to be a laugh, but came out as more of a snort. “No! That’s silly. They don’t tell slaves that kinda thing. If we knew where they were, we’d cut them out.”

The physician took a long, slow breath. “Right. Okay. Then we need to give you a quick scan to find it before we can get it out of you.”

“Alright. Will it hurt?”

“No. The scan is completely painless and I can numb the area before we get the bomb out of you. It’ll only take a few minutes.” Doctor Gihan retrieved a medical scanner and told Anakin to put the pup down. Aranar immediately picked up its’ pup in its’ jaws and returned it to the nest it had made. Doctor Gihan then waved the scanner slowly around Anakin, carefully watching the little monitor on it as he walked around Anakin. “Do you know where the controller for the bomb is?”

Anakin shrugged. “Dunno. Maybe Master Jinn left it at the Temple.”

Jaster stepped away, striding across the room with a deliberately casual, almost careless, bearing. He tapped his communicator and when he spoke, he changed from Basic to Mando’a, most likely so Ankain wouldn’t understand him. “I need an explosives technician in the infirmary. One of our guests has a slave bomb. The controller is missing, so we’ll need to have a controlled detonation. Be here in ten minutes. The victim is an ad and unless I miss my guess, he was born into slavery - he’s too easy with the whole idea to be anything else - so keep that in mind when you get here.” He ended the transmission and casually walked back to stand next to Jango.

Jaster said, “Jango, you should leave, lad.”

It took all of Jango’s self-restraint and reminding himself that he both loved and respected Jaster to keep him from rolling his eyes. “You said that as if you thought it might actually happen. In fact, as your second in command, I think that the future Mand’alor should leave. His life is very valuable to all the citizens depending on him.”

Jaster did roll his eyes. Neither of them left the infirmary.

When they looked back at room, Kenobi had pulled his legs up until he was sitting cross-legged on the infirmary bed and listened intently to everything Doctor Gihan said. Jango thought Kenobi should leave. He’d already been poisoned. Getting blown up without a bit of armor on would definitely not improve the situation.

Kenobi slipped off the infirmary bed and motioned for Jango to go with him to the far side of the infirmary. Once they were a good distance away from Anakin, Kenobi whispered, “How dangerous is this?”

“Doctor Gihan knows his business. It’s a simple and pretty common operation. There’s almost no possibility of anything going wrong, but it is an explosive and there’s always a chance of something going wrong.” If Kenobi stayed in the room when Anakin’s bomb was removed and something went wrong, then Kenobi would live the rest of his life with the memory of watching his little brother being blown apart... no. Kenobi should definitely leave. “If I warn you that staying here is a really bad idea, you won’t listen, will you?”

“It’s not likely, no.” Kenobi turned a dim smile on Jango. “But it’s nice of you to try. Thank you. Alor Mereel isn’t as upset as I thought he’d be at the news of a bomb inside a child.”

Jango answered, “Oh, believe me, he's very upset. He's just not going to panic. As I said - this is a common operation. We get slaves all the time that we have either liberated or they’ve managed to find their way to us and these days everyone’s putting bombs in their slaves. They have to come out. So, our doctors are all pretty good at it. I still think you should take the precaution and leave, because things can go wrong, but Anakin’s in basically no danger, especially if your Master deactivated the bomb. It would be good to have the bomb’s controller.”

“Would that help?”

“It would a relief for Doctor Gihan when he starts hunting for the bomb.”

Obi-Wan went quiet for a minute, then he nodded and went back to Anakin. He said, “I just need to go back to our ship for a minute. I’ll be back as soon as possible. Anakin, be safe and stay here. I promise I won’t be gone long.”

Anakin immediately hopped off his bed. “I want to stay with you!”

“Please,” Kenobi put a gentle hand on top of Anakin’s head. “This time, I really need you to listen to me. You stay here.”

“But... but...”

Jango put an arm over Kenobi’s shoulders - too skinny, needs to eat more - and grinned at Anakin. “Don’t you worry, kid. I’ll keep this little brother safe.” He ignored Kenobi’s surprised ‘hey!’ and continued with, “You let Doctor Gihan get ready to get that thing out of you and I’ll have your Obi back in no time.”

Anakin put his fists on his hips. “You gonna keep him safe?”

“Absolutely.” He ruffled Kenobi’s hair. “No one’s gonna hurt him when I’m around.” A low, ‘hurph’ made Jango look down at Aranar, standing at his side. “With Aranar, of course.”

And so Jango and Kenobi left the infirmary under the guardianship of Aranar. As soon as the infirmary door closed behind them, Kenobi said, “This is my fault. I’m responsible for him. I didn’t even know he had a bomb inside him.” There was a worrisome tone in his voice that hinted at self-hate. “I didn’t know.”

There was nothing Jango could say that would help heal that self-hate and he knew it. Best not to meddle with things that should be left to a psych-medic. “Why,” Jango asked. “Are we going to your ship?”

“Because the controller for the bomb inside Anakin will be there.”

With a dark scowl, Jango muttered, “It had better not be. We had a team go over that ship from top to bottom. If they missed something so obvious...”

“Don’t be angry. I doubt they would have thought to look where it will be, and I believe that it was respect that caused that little oversight.”

At the ship, where a few of the technicians were still working on fixing it up, Kenobi led Jango onto the ship and to that locked room where Kenobi’s Master was sealed in a stasis pod. When they both stood next to that pod, Jango gave Kenobi a long, considering look. “Are you sure about this?”

“Master Qui-Gon would never have just left the bomb controller laying around, deactivated or not. He would have kept it with him to make sure it was kept safe and wouldn’t hurt Anakin.” He stood there for a few moments, staring down at his Master’s face.

Aranar leaned against Kenobi’s leg. He blinked and smiled down at it. “Goodness, are you worried about me?” He gave Aranar a pat and rubbed its’ ear. “I’m alright. Everything’s fine.”

Still, he didn’t move to open the stasis pod.

“You touched your neck.”

Kenobi looked up sharply at Jango’s statement.

“When Anakin mentioned the bomb. You touched your neck and said something about collars.” Jango kept his eyes on the face of Kenobi’s Master. “You have experience with slave collars?”

“I don’t see the importance of such a question at this time.”

The pain must have been terrible and yet Kenobi stood there with a still face. It was admirable control. Jango knew he wouldn’t have been able to pretend such serenity if he were in Kenobi’s shoes. Maybe it was part of being a Jedi. Rumors would have it they were emotionless monsters. From what Jango saw of their two Jedi, that didn’t seem at all true.

“So,” Jango said, willing to give up the battle at the moment but knowing he would get back to it, later. “Where would the controller be?”

“In one of the pockets in his robe. I just have to search.”

“Right.” Jango took Kenobi by the arm and started walking him to the door of the room. “You go wait in the other room. I’ll get it.”

“Wait. What? No.” Kenobi tried to shake off Jango’s hand, but Jango was bigger, stronger, and older and wasn’t about to let a little vod think he had the upper hand. “This isn’t your place. I can do this.”

“But you don’t have to.”

“Please.”

Jango stopped and scowled. He straightened his back to make himself look taller and tried to loom. He was only a few inches taller than Kenobi, so it didn’t work terribly well. “You do not have to do this. I will take care of it. Now, we need to hurry. Doctor Gihan will want to do the operation as soon as possible and we’ll be landing soon, which will bring a whole new basket full of troubles. There’s no reason for you to suffer like this.”

There was no hope - Kenobi wouldn’t be swayed. “We are not this crude matter,” he said. “Master Qui-Gon isn’t that body. He has rejoined the Force and I rejoice for him.” It was said very seriously, with a demeanor of absolute faith, the same faith that Jango had that both of his own buire were marching far ahead.

“Very well,” Jango conceded with ill-grace.

The stasis pod was opened, and Kenobi quickly searched through the Master’s robes until he found the controller. The pod was promptly closed and sealed, and they hurried back to the infirmary to give the controller to Doctor Gihan.

Anakin excitedly told Kenobi, “He found it, Obi! It’s in my back, right next to my spine! He’s gonna take it out and I get to watch!” His happiness about the whole situation was completely at odds with Jaster’s grim expression and Doctor’s Gihan’s careful preparations. The spine was not a good place for a bomb.

“Right.” Doctor Gihan examined the controller and declared that the operation would proceed. Then, he looked pointedly at all of them. “I need a sterile environment, which means the operating room and I do not need distractions in there. You will all wait here.” He went to Kenobi and put his hands on Kenobi’s shoulders. “Do you understand? I know you want to stay with him, but for his own safety, you can’t.”

Again, that terrible mask of calm (Jango was dead certain it was a mask) draped over Kenobi. He looked at Anakin. “Is this what you want?”

“I want the bomb gone. Don’t go far away, though.”

“I’ll be right here.” Kenobi nodded at Doctor Gihan.

There was tenderness in the way Doctor Gihan patted Kenobi’s shoulders as he gave Kenobi a smile so fond and proud that Jango strongly suspected that if Kenobi and Anakin were up for adoption, Jaster might have more than a little competition for the honor of bringing them into his family. Doctor Gihan had lately been speaking of how his spouse was looking for more children to add to their family.

Anakin was taken into the Bral’s operating room, a large room just through a side door in the infirmary, by Doctor Gihan and two of the nurses while Jango and Jaster stayed in the main room of the infirmary with Kenobi. It was very quiet. Jango didn’t like it. He didn’t like one bit of it. Slavery was bad enough, but slave children with bombs implanted in them... as common as it was, he hated it every time. Add to that the death of their buir, traveling the galaxy alone, pirates, and Sith - ancient nightmares come to life - and he felt his blood catch fire at the amount of danger the two boys were in.

The only thing that could make it worse would be if Death Watch took an interest in them.

Jango wanted to be away, wanted to go find Silas and Myles and have a good fight. Brawling with his friends sounded like an ideal way to work off the anxiety. He was Jaster’s second-in-command, though. He couldn’t just leave because he was uncomfortable. He had responsibilities and that meant sticking it out through the tough times.

“Alor, if it’s no trouble,” Kenobi said. It took Jango a moment to register that he’d spoken in Mando’a. That was no real surprise - they’d known he spoke the language since his delusional outburst on his little ship - it was the first time he’d knowingly spoken it to them. “May I ask a question?”

Jaster gave Kenobi a slap on the arm that Jango knew had been meant in a friendly manner, but nearly knocked Kenobi over. “Of course. Ask.”

“The ship we arrived on. It’s... well... forgive any impertinence, but we are going to get it back, aren’t we?”

“Certainly,” Jaster told Kenobi, easily. “I wouldn’t take your belongings.”

Kenobi’s shoulders slumped with relief. “Good. That’s good. Thank you. It was a gift.”

“Yes. It did have the looks of a Naboo ship. They do take pains to design them pretty, don’t they? It’s quite a gift, too. They must think a lot of you.”

“It was very kindly meant. Queen Amidala wanted to make sure we were able to go home comfortably. She gave the ship to me. I don’t think she knows what a miraculous gift it is.”

“Why?” Jango asked. “It’s just a ship.”

Jaster said, “Do you need the ship for your people? I have heard that the Jedi are a people sworn to poverty, that you operate as a charitable society.”

Kenobi’s laugh was soft and somewhat pained. “Charitable? I suppose that’s one way to look at it. The Jedi are forbidden from taking payment for services rendered.”

Jango’s mind seemed to freeze. The statement made no sense. He and most of the True Mandalorians had been bounty hunters and mercenaries... the idea of not taking payment was unthinkable. Jango didn’t know too much about Jedi, they were such a sparse people that he’d only ever seen them once or twice in his life and had never spoken to one before that very day, but he knew they needed food, clothing, clean water, medicine, and all the other basics of life. Their reputations would have it that they regularly threw themselves into terrible danger on behalf of others, so how was it possible that they could do that and not take payment to support themselves?

There was no confusion on Jaster’s part. “Yes. I’ve read the Ruusan Reformation. I believe that was clause 896.42B. That any request for Jedi aid had to go through the Republic’s Senate and they would pass the mission on to the Jedi Council. Payment for the aid would be collected by the Senate.”

Kenobi started to stroll. It was too slow, too deliberate to be called ‘pacing’, but he strolled the length of the infirmary. “Yes. You might notice that nothing in there says that they will pass on the payment to the Jedi Temple.”

And then Jango understood. The Senate had been legally keeping the payment that the Jedi had earned. “So, the stuff about the Jedi being a charity?”

“Well...” Kenobi shrugged. “It could be true, if you look at it in a certain light. We don’t take payment for what we do. We are given an allowance by the Senate. Which means that anything we earn while on doing official Jedi business goes directly to the Senate and they distribute it to us as they see fit. However, Jedi can accept gifts, so long as we don’t ask for it and we make at least one attempt to refuse. I did not ask for that ship and I did offer to return it. Queen Amidala is very generous and refused to take the ship back.”

“So,” Jaster grinned. “You will keep the ship for your Temple and have new, reliable transportation. That is a wonderful gift.”

With a blink of surprise, Kenobi said, “No, I won’t keep the ship. It’ll be sold.”

Jango and Jaster exchanged a worried look.

“Are your people so poorly off that you need the profit from the sale to support them? A Naboo ship is nothing to get rid of lightly, they are excellent engineers and craftsmen. That ship will last for years. If you keep the ship, you could use it to take care of your people in the future,” Jaster said.

Kenobi looked seriously at the door of the operating room Anakin was behind. “The ship is remarkable, new and with all the best technology available. It’s extremely valuable. That’s why it will be sold. Don’t tell Anakin, just in case something goes wrong, but... you see... Anakin’s mother is still a slave on Tatooine. I’m going to trade the ship for her freedom.”

Jango’s opinion of Jedi rose more than a little.

Within ten minutes, the bomb inside Anakin was extracted and given to Jaster who then handed it off to their explosive experts, who had waited just outside the infirmary door. Anakin bounced back into the infirmary’s main room with a delighted, “I get to keep the scar, Obi! Look! Look!” He turned around and yanked up the bottom of his tunic to show off a small gauze bandage on his back.

Kenobi obligingly told Anakin, “It’s wonderful. I’m sure you’ll have a lovely scar when it’s all healed. We’ll get you a mirror so you can look at it.”

Jaster laughed, as Jango had suspected he would at the sight of a happy ad, and said, “We have more good news. We’re due to land any moment, now. Welcome to Mandalore.”

Anakin and Kenobi went with them to the command deck of the Bral and watched from an out of the way corner as the ship landed.

“It’s covered in glass!” Anakin had whispered loudly enough for the whole command crew to hear. “Obi, look! A whole city in a glass bowl!”

Keldabe was, indeed covered by a massive glass dome and under that dome they could see the ancient city as the ship went lower and lower as it got ready to set down on the landing field just outside the city in one of the massive deserts of Mandalore.

Once they had landed, the crew readied themselves to disembarked. It was very well organized, something Jaster didn’t normally bother with outside of military operations. Jango made a mental note to thank Silas and Myles for dealing with that aspect of their arrival so Jaster could concentrate on their guests. He knew those two well enough to know they would have taken care of the details while Jaster and Jango had been occupied.

As always, Jaster insisted on leaving the ship first. A leader had to lead, after all. He had once explained it to Jango. “If there is ever an attack, I will be at the front to guard my people. How could I stay in the rear when there might be an attack at any minute?”

Kenobi and Anakin walked behind Jaster. Jango, with his blaster at the ready, walked beside the boys. Jango had thought to keep himself near Anakin as he was younger, but as they started down the ramp of the ship, he saw Kenobi’s step falter. It was as if he lost strength for a moment, though he quickly righted himself.

Jango looked down at his other side where Aranar walked with the pup, Kal, clinging to its’ back. “Stay,” Jango said, pointing at Anakin. “Aranar, you stay with him.” He tapped Anakin’s shoulder and, when Anakin looked up at him, he said, “You, stay with Aranar.” Then he moved to walk next to Kenobi.

“I don’t need a minder,” Kenobi grumbled.

“Sure you don’t, little brother. I just like your company. Watch your step.”

At the edge of the landing field, at the entrance to Keldabe, there was a party waiting for them, a dozen people in fine clothes and not a single bit of armor. There wasn’t even a blaster to be seen among them and Jango had set his helmet’s visuals to magnify specifically so he could check. Why, he could have picked them all off in about four seconds if he’d wanted to kill them. He just didn’t understand New Mandalorians.

At the front of the group stood a small young woman, dressed in a brightly colored, elaborate gown with a complex headdress on her blonde hair. No armor. Jango felt his fingers itch. She needed armor.

Kenobi stopped walking and stared. In a breathy sort of whisper, he said, “Satine.”

To Be Continued...

Mandalorian glossary-

ad - child
ade - children
buir - parent
buire - parents Mando’a - the Mandalorian Language
vod - sibling / comrade

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Meetings

Earlier-
Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Satine Kryze-

Keldabe was a magnificent city, ancient and singing with life. In her office - the office she’d been using since she’d arrived on Mandalore four years earlier - she stood at the large window and looked down at the city that sprawled around The Fortress. Mandalorian’s had no palace or castle for their ruler, they had The Fortress for the Mand’alor. The Fortress was immense. It was built of stone and soared far above the city of Keldabe. It was big enough to easily house hundreds and, in an emergency, squeeze in a couple of thousand. Satine didn’t like the Fortress. It seemed blunt and heavy, as if she was in a prison.

The office was very large with one entire wall that was a window. The floors were covered in a plush carpet and there were works of art - large sculptures and fine paintings - placed thoughtfully around the room. There was a computer of the best, most up-to-date technology on a desk made of glass. It was not the working area of a warrior.

Satine wasn’t alone in the office.

“I tell you,” one of the advisors in the office shouted at another. “This cannot stand! He will ruin everything we’ve worked for, everything we’ve been planning!”

“But what to do about it? Mereel will be swaggering in here with his horde any minute and we need a plan!”

It continued on in that vein. There were well more than a dozen people in the office, all of them arguing. Not a single person spoke to Satine or even looked at her, except for Trion Lubek, of course. Satine wasn’t even entirely sure why she was there; no one else seemed to think she was necessary for their arguments. Not that it mattered - she’d heard all the arguments, many times. They had been there for hours and she was so tired of hearing their voices.

Satine kept looking down at Keldabe. She said nothing. Nothing was asked of her. But Keldabe was in front before her and the vast desert beyond.

A hand landed on her shoulder. “Satine? Are you alight?”

She shook off the hand, then looked up to see that it was Trion who’d touched her. Satine said, “Excuse me.” Then left the room without another word.

No one tried to stop her. She doubted most of them had even noticed she’d left.

The halls of The Fortress were wide, but narrow enough to be easily defensible - or so Satine had been told - with only a few, narrow windows at regular intervals on the exterior wall but they were not there to let in light or fresh air. They were meant for warriors defending The Fortress to aim their blasters and whatever other weapons they had out at an attacking force. She walked down several halls until she came to an open door where a small army of servants were moving furniture in and out. There was cleaning and organizing and it took a moment before the person in charge of it, Nole, noticed Satine.

“Milady,” Nole touched her right fist respectfully to her left shoulder in greeting. “Are you sure about this?”

Satine returned the gesture. “I am. What other decision could be made?”

“I am sure Alor Mereel will not be expecting you to give up your rooms.”

“These are the best rooms in The Fortress and they are meant for the Mand’alor. Of course he will have them.”

Nole looked unhappy, but said, “We’re nearly finished here. I’m sure he’ll be bringing his own things but the room is furnished enough to be comfortable and we have plenty in storage if he wishes for something else. Give me a few moments and I’ll be along to sort out your new room.”

“No need. I’ll deal with it myself. You’ve had a long day.”

“Duchess...”

“Forgive me for distracting you.” Satine saluted, again, then continued on her way, following the line of servants carrying her things away from the room she’d lived in since she’d first arrived on Mandalore, to the new room. She didn’t go in. Rather, she went to the room next to it - her new office. It was, naturally, smaller than the office of the Mand’alor. There were no windows. It was utilitarian with a desk, several chairs, and nothing else. It felt cold.

She sat at the desk and turned on the computer. It was dusty. Clearly, no one had used that office in a great long while. Once the computer was running, she glanced at her messages, not the official ones, but her personal messages to see if anything had managed to get through before the Solstice Storm had begun and made communication with the Republic impossible. It was empty. She had even tried - once again - to contact her old school friends, but not a single one had replied. She really shouldn’t have been surprised. They hadn’t replied to any of the messages she’d sent since she’d gone to Mandalore. It seemed that the minute it had become public knowledge that she was Mandalorian, none of her friends wanted anything to do with her. She really should stop trying. But it hurt that Obi-Wan hadn’t replied.

“Obi-Wan... why haven’t you answered?” She had written to him three weeks ago and he had always answered her letters in the past. They didn’t write terribly frequently, but he had always been good about answering promptly. She hadn’t written him a long, sentimental letter - she was certainly not a sentimental person - but he could have written back, if only to say ‘hello’. She’d thought he would... hoped he would. She didn’t need his advice about to do with the current situation, she was quite able to make up her own mind about the dreadfully simply issue. Alor Jaster Mereel would be Mand’alor and no amount of shouting from her father’s advisors would change that. Despite her resolve, it would have eased her mind to have a friend to talk to.

“He’s likely on a long mission,” Satine finally told herself. “He’s so responsible, of course his people would give him the most important missions. He’ll answer when he has time.”

Satine navigated away from her recent messages and found the older ones. There she found a message, the first one she’d gotten from Alor Mereel. It was the first contact she’d ever had from him and it was that message that had begun everything. She replayed the recording of the transmission.

Alor Mereel’s face appeared on the computer screen. There was something mildly terrifying about the man’s cheery smile. Too much teeth, perhaps. He was almost handsome with blunt, square sort of face bearing scars that Satine had come to learn many real Mandalorians would find downright attractive. His hair was completely white and cut very short. His eyes, so dark that they were nearly black, stood out remarkably against his pale face. “Greetings to Duchess Satine Kryze. I am Jaster Mereel and I claim the title of Mand’alor.” The message went on from there. He advised her that he would be making journeys to all the biggest clans to inform them of his decision and to invite challengers to fight him for the title. It was the way of the Mand’alor - fight for the right to rule. Satine had, for all intents and purposes lived her entire life on Coruscant. She had been born on Mandalore, true, but had been sent away so young that she didn’t remember her home world. She could, therefore, be forgiven for being mystified by many of the customs and traditions of her own people, including using brutal combat as a way to choose a ruler. That tradition was well established and the people would respect it and, no matter what her father might have wished for her, there was no possibility of Satine being able to fight Jaster Mereel and win.

Satine had listened to the message several times, previously, and had spoken with the man a few times. He hadn’t made any threats, as she’d been warned that he would. He had been civil, more civil than many people she’d met in Republic Space, in fact. Only hours ago, she’d spoken with Jango, Alor Mereel’s child who had reported that they would be delayed due to a rescue mission.

Compassion. It was a good sign - a hopeful sign that a warlord everyone called savage and mindless would show compassion to strangers in need.

The door of Satine’s office opened and, without invitation, Trion Lubek walked in. She had known him since she was a child and he’d travel to her school on Coruscant to check on her in her father’s stead. She would have rather had visits from her father. When she had been recalled to Mandalore, when her father had died, Trion had made himself always available to her. It seemed as if he were there every time she turned around, every time a decision needed to be made.

He was tall and thin with a large eyes and his hair was graying at his temples. He had been her father’s close friend and confidant which, Satine thought, made him as close to an uncle as she would ever have.

He said, “You don’t belong here.”

Satine looked up from the computer screen.

Trion raised his chin. “You belong in the Mand’alor’s office.”

“We have been over this - many times - and I will not change my mind. Even if I wanted to, it is too late. Alor Mereel will be here momentarily.”

“For the good of Mandalore, he must be stopped! He will lead our people to ruin. The desert outside Keldabe will be all that is left of our home world. He’ll lead everyone to war. If we are to have peace, then we must get rid of Jaster Mereel by any means necessary.”

And Satine felt a stab of alarm. It was bad enough for Trion to have insulted Alor Mereel when Jango had contacted her to tell her they would be late, but this insinuation... it was too much. She stood up. “I certainly hope I misheard that.”

Trion asked, “What?”

“Did you seriously just suggest promoting a society of pacifism by murdering a political rival?”

“We must be willing to...”

“To murder?” Satine turned away from Trion. There was no doubt at all that she was grateful to Trion. He had always been attentive, both when she’d been a young child on Coruscant and then even more so when she’d been brought back to Mandalore. After Obi-Wan and Master Jinn had left, she’d felt terrifyingly alone and friendless and Trion had always been nearby to help or give advice. But he could be so demanding and she was getting a headache. “You’ll excuse me, but I need to get ready for my meeting with Alor Mereel. Please, leave.”

“Satine, you must listen!” Trion did not leave the room. It was as if she hadn’t spoken. “He is a barbarian and he will destroy all our work. The work your father and I have done for years to have peace on Mandalore will go to waste. You wouldn’t do that to your father’s memory.”

She did not appreciate the low blow. “And what do you suggest? Perhaps we will have peace once Death Watch has murdered us all, taken control of the Mandalorian Empire, and set forth to wage war on the rest of the Universe? Will that be the peace you want? Because that is what will happen if they are not stopped and I do not have the skills or the experience to stop them. Three Forges and a medical clinic were attacked this month and I have no reason to believe that Death Watch will stop unless they are made to stop. They will attack the schools next. Our people are ready to fight for themselves, but they need a leader to end this as quickly as possible or there will be more and more bloodshed.” And Satine, to the shame of all Mandalorians, was not a fighter. She was not the leader that Mandalore needed at that time when Death Watch was the enemy and she couldn’t understand why Trion and the other advisors didn’t grasp that.

“We can get help somewhere else. The Republic... the Jedi...”

“And we will pay for others to fight and die for us. How is that any more peaceful that fighting for ourselves? At least Alor Mereel and his people are trained, experienced, armed, and they WANT to fight.”

Trion took Satine by the arms and held her. His hands were too tight. It hurt. Her arms were going to be bruised... again. “He will take your place! You are meant to be Mand’alor!”

Satine didn’t demand he take his hands off her - a Mandalorian wouldn’t do that, she believed. Mandalorians respected strength and courage and she would not allow herself to look like a frightened child in front of them - not even in front of Trion. She could be strong. She had to be if she was going to earn the respect of her people. But she didn’t want him touching her. He was hurting her. She narrowed her eyes. “I will not be Mand’alor.”

Several long, drawn out seconds ticked by before Trion released her arms and stepped away. “This is a mistake.”

“Perhaps. But it is my mistake to make. My father and his advisors, you included, made this my choice and I will live by it. Now, Alor Mereel has offered me a situation as his personal assistant which will put me in an excellent position to attempt to curb the more savage behavior I’ve heard rumor of, but you must accept that Jaster Mereel WILL be the Mand’alor and I WILL fully support him.”

Trion looked like he would yell, but instead he turned and marched out of Satine’s office, slamming the door behind him.

Alone, Satine slumped over and rested her hands on her new desk. She was tired. She felt like she’d been running for miles without a destination. With a deep breath, she stood up straight and left the office. In the hall, just outside her office, there was one of those narrow windows where she could look out at Keldabe. She looked up and over the skyline and through the glass dome that covered Keldabe and saw a large warship descending down to the landing field.

Alor Mereel’s Bral was a famous and easily recognizable ship.

Satine closed her eyes and whispered, “A good leader will do what is best for their people... even if that means stepping aside. Right. I can do this. Everything is going to be fine.”

***

At the Glass Gates, the entrance that led through the glass dome and into Keldabe from the landing field in the desert, Satine waited. She dressed well, but it was not in Mandalorian fashion. To dress like a Mandalorian when she hardly felt like one would have made her some sort of fraud, surely. She didn’t think the real Mandalorians would appreciate if she made the attempt. So, she wore one of the gowns she’d brought with her from Coruscant and one of her head dresses. Her inherited advisors stood unhappily behind her as she waited. Trion stood at her side with his arms crossed, belligerently.

There were others watching as Alor Mereel approached Keldabe. Word of the transition of power had spread very quickly and Satine believed - hoped - that the people were generally in favor of Alor Mereel. From her research on the matter, she believed his character and experiences would appeal to the average Mandalorian. The other watchers were discreet, mostly. There were no massive crowds or cheering or anything else, but there were people around and Satine caught sight of a few recorders. Within minutes all of the Empire would know that Satine and Alor Mereel met at the Glass Gates of Keldabe.

The force that emerged from the Bral was impressive, hundreds of warriors, all in their distinctive armor with weapons - blasters, pikes, swords, ect. - all held at the ready. Satine knew, intellectually, that it was a sight that would stir pride in most Mandalorians, but she felt as if her heart would leap into her throat with fear. It was one thing to speak with Alor Mereel, but to meet him in person... if he was as terrible as rumors said...

Satine hid her hands in the long sleeves of her gown. She would not allow anyone to see them shaking! If Alor Mereel decided that it was in his best interest to kill her, if he decided that she needed to die because she wasn’t a ‘real’ Mandalorian and he didn’t want any sort of competition, then she would not die showing the Universe exactly how frightened she was.

‘He won’t kill me,’ Satine thought to herself, sternly. ‘He offered me a position as his assistant. He wouldn’t do that and just kill me. Stop being foolish and put some steel in your spine!’

She’d written a speech for the occasion. It had been short and direct, both of which she expected would be appreciated by a Mandalorian. She had considered everything she could conceive of that he might say or ask or demand and had an appropriate response ready. She was hyper-aware of the audience and how every Mandalorian everywhere would see this meeting and how the next few minutes would affect the future.

Her entire attention tunneled down to Alor Mereel as he walked directly towards her across the Landing Field and she was only dimly aware of the others walking with him. He was bigger than she’d expected and when he stopped, only a few paces in front of her, she had to look up at him. Perhaps it was her imagination, overactive from weeks of waiting for this meeting, but he seemed bigger than he really was. There was a weight to him - power. She saw something fearsome in his eyes, something determined and intense, something that illustrated why people whispered of him with fear and awe.

Satine stiffened her back and began her long practiced speech. “Alor Mereel, welcome to - ”

Alor Mereel leaned forward and hugged her.

Satine froze.

With a voice that was deep and warm, Alor Mereel said, “It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve been looking forward to this, little Satine.” He pulled away, but kept his hands on her arms, just where Trion had earlier grabbed her, and held her out at arm’s reach for a moment. “Allow me to introduce my people. My son, Jango, and two extemporary verd, Silas and Myles.” He gestured to his people with one hand as he spoke and put his other arm over Satine’s shoulders to draw her closer to them. “Both greatly valued by my people and essential for any battle. And, of course, Aranar - ”

“This is outrageous!” Trion burst out so sharply that Satine jerked her head around to look at him. His face was twisted with fury. “Get your hands off the duchess!”

“It’s quite alright,” Satine tried to calm him. While she wasn’t entirely fond of Alor Mereel being so tactile, he wasn’t hurting her. In fact, Trion himself had hurt her more when he’d grabbed her arms, earlier. To make a scene at such a delicate moment would be unforgivably irresponsible. “We’re only making introductions. This is a time for making new friends, I think.”

Another voice said, “Or renewing old acquaintances?”

Satine knew that voice. It was deeper than she remembered, but she knew it. She stepped away from Alor Mereel, distantly surprised when he easily let her go. She stepped just to the side and looked behind Jango to see Obi-Wan Kenobi. He was taller. It was the first thing that struck her. He’d grown a solid head taller than her since they’d last met.

Her breath caught. She was so happy to see him. So relieved to have someone there who was undeniably on her side. Someone she could trust without hesitation. He looked much the same, those freckles and dimples, but he was paler than she remembered. He looked, somehow, weak. It frightened her. She had many words that she could use to describe Obi-Wan Kenobi, but weak certainly wasn’t one of them.

She wanted to run to him, to check him for wounds and to help tend him as he had once taken care of her when they had run together to escape people who wanted to kill her. But she was conscious of her position. She stayed still and they just watched one another. She wondered how she measured up in his eyes.

The corner of Obi-Wan’s mouth turned up, just a fraction, just enough to be called a smile, but she suspected that anyone who didn’t know him very well would have missed it. He held out a hand in the traditional Republic greeting that she hadn’t seen in years. “Hello, there.”

‘Hello, Obi-Wan,’ she wanted to say. ‘It’s been so long. Too many years. I’ve missed you, my friend.’ She wanted to smile at him, to assure him that no matter what had brought him into Alor Mereel’s custody, he was safe. She would stand by him, as he had once stood by her. She wanted to be strong for him. But they were being watched and it was not the time for sentimental gushing.

Satine took his hand. “Padawan Kenobi. It’s good to see you.”

Concordia-
Herna-

Herna flew without complaint as she was escorted to their home, Concordia, by three of her own people. Concordia was beautiful, but she found it completely uninteresting, even repulsive, just knowing that she was forced to spend time there when she should be looking for her boy.

They landed in a wide field with many other ships. The three Mandalorians waited for her when she disembarked her ship and, for the first time in months, stood on the surface of Concordia. The weather was, as it usually was on that part of the moon, cold. Nearly everything was white, covered in snow and ice - which made it starkly different from Mandalore with its’ daunting deserts. There were mining operations on other parts of Concordia and wide-spread, thriving farms, but where they landed was an endless winter

Once out of her ship, the three who’d escorted Herna to Concordia approached and stood in front of her. “Vod,” the one who’d spoken to her when they’d met in flight said, “You will have explaining to do, but for now, let’s join our people. There is a meeting in progress.”

She didn’t argue, but nodded in silent agreement. She had no interest in attending the meeting or seeing her people. There were more important things to do, but she was patient. She could bide her time until she could leave without arousing any curiosity that might encourage one of her people from following her.

She followed the other armored warriors back to the home base, a sprawling, one-story building that housed all of their people. Everyone they encountered was armored and armed. They went into the building and through several halls that led by cells, a kitchen, large training rooms, three armories, and multiple small rooms for individual self-reflection. They walked on and on, deeper into the complex until they reached the end. The hall stopped abruptly with two doors, one on either side of the hall. The door on the right was guarded by three Mandalorians with blasters held at the ready.

The nursery.

One of the vod escorting Herna turned to speak with one of the guards on that door. “How are the foundlings?”

“Well enough. Taking ‘em for training later. ‘Bout time they got their hands on real weapons.”

The one escorting Herna nodded. “May they fight well.”

They didn’t go into the nursery. Instead, they all turned left, to the second door. They walked into a large room where many Mandalorians had gathered around their leader. Silently, they joined the group and Herna listened as one Mandalorian spoke to their leader.

“There is to be a new Mand’alor confirmed. The news has traveled among the clans. Jaster Mereel has gone to Keldabe to make his claim. He has issued the traditional invitation to challengers.” This Mandalorian wore his armor painted in drab colors, the same as most of their people did.

The leader, again in dully painted armor, was quiet for a long moment before he said, “Mereel? An interesting development.” He sat like a statue, not a single movement to betray what he was thinking. “I will go to Mandalore, to Keldabe. I will see what Mereel is made of. Do we have further information about him?”

The verd said, “Not much. My source says that Mereel picked up a couple of stranded foundlings near the edge of the Solstice Storm in a Naboo ship. A young boy and an older boy - both wearing the markings of Jedi. They were alone but for a dead Jedi Master.”

Herna felt as if her heart froze. Two Jedi boys and a dead Master. Obi-Wan. It had to be. There could not be such a great coincidence in the galaxy, it had to be Obi-Wan with the boy he’d been caring for on Naboo. It was destiny. She said, “I will go with you to Keldabe, if you will allow. Permit me to make up for the credits I lost us by dumping the bodyguard job.”

“You have questions to answer, but I will consider your request. At this moment, we have other plans to make, others who need our attention.” He motioned to the side of the room where a young girl sat, silently, dressed in a white robe over her black under suit and a white veil covering her face. “It is time for this child to join our ranks.”

To Be Continued...

Verd - warrior
Vod - sibling / comrade

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: More Food

Concordia-

In the meeting room of their compound, the leader of his people, Pav, listened while Herna explained why she’d had to lose the payment for the bodyguard job and why she hadn’t kept in contact. He said nothing as she spoke about how her ship had gotten a malfunction and she’d needed to take time to do repairs. It was all perfectly reasonable. So, when she requested, again, to make up for her failure by being allowed to go to Mandalore with him and assist in his mission, he had no reason to refuse.

“You may come to Mandalore and together we will see what this claimant to the title can offer. Go now and prepare. I want to arrive on the first day of the Solstice Festival.”

She bowed her head and left without another word. With a wave of his hand, Pav dismissed the rest of his audience and they filed out, eerily silent in heavy armor.

Pav stayed in his seat, thinking, for a good long while. The room was utterly silent. After a while, he turned enough to see the only person left with him - the girl in the white veil.

“My child,” Pav said, softly. “What do you make of all that?”

“She’s lying.”

“About what?”

“... I’m not sure. There doesn’t seem to be a reason for the lie. What do you think you will learn about Jaster Mereel?”

“If I could say, I wouldn’t need to go.” Pav stood up and walked behind his seat to the far back of the meeting room where the forge, its' flame burning low and steady, stood. The heat of the fire was obvious even through his armor and it was a comfort. “I will return in time to wish you well for your Verd’Goten.”

She bowed her head, respectfully. “My thanks, buir. But if you can’t, please don’t worry. I will serve my Verd’Goten whether you are here or not.”

It might have seemed cold if Pav didn’t know her steady, determined temperament so well.

“Buir,” his child said as she stood, her white robe fell around her, hanging to just above her knees. “Are the rumors true? I have heard people speaking of a duchess who wants to steal our armor. Is it true? And will Jaster Mereel change that?”

Pav didn’t answer for a moment. Despite his child’s white robe - the traditional sign that she was nearing the time of her Verd’Goten - she was young. Perhaps she would always be young in his eyes and he would always want to shield her from such things. “No matter what Jaster Mereel or the duchess have planned for our people, I will discover it.” Pav held out a hand and his child went to him. Together, they stood by the forge and watched the fire. “I will not allow anyone to harm you.” Pav put a hand on his child’s shoulder, thin and almost frail. “If I have to burn the Universe into ash, I will always protect you.”

Madalore-
Keldabe-
Anakin-

At the glass dome covering the city, Anakin leaned against Aranar for a moment, then started to inch towards Obi-Wan. Aranar stayed right with Anakin, pressing itself against him until they started to get close to the front of the group where Boss Jaster stood with the girl and then Aranar shifted to put itself in front of Anakin, as if it would protect him or just wanted him to stay away from the people at the front. When he finally reached Obi-Wan, he stood behind him but peeked around to get a better look at the girl. She didn’t smile, didn’t show any sign at all that she was happy to see Obi-Wan.

Anakin watched closely when Obi-Wan shook the strange girl’s hand. She was kind of sharp looking - skinny nose, hard cheekbones, pointy elbows - and she held herself with a stiffness, as if she was ready to run or fight at a moment’s notice. But she shook Obi-Wan’s hand and her eyes went soft.

For just a moment, Anakin let his shields drop just a little and the Force felt all bubbly and happy. He put his shields back up.

Boss Jaster looked first at Obi-Wan and then at the blonde girl. Then he chuckled and took his helmet off to hold it under one arm. All the Mandalorians seemed to like their armor a lot; all of Boss Jaster’s people wore their helmets and Anakin was, again, reminded of droids and felt safer with them all around. Boss Jaster said, “Ah! Do you know each other? It is a small Universe, isn’t it?”

Obi-Wan gave a little chuckle. “We know each other quite well, I think. We spent some time together a few years ago. It’s a long story, but by now I think it might be pretty well documented. I’d be pleased to tell you the tale, Alor.” He grinned at Satine. “We both had some memorable adventures, didn’t we, Satine?”

“Memorable adventures... that’s one way to phrase it.”

Jango, who had been keeping pretty close to Obi-Wan since they’d left the ship, slapped a hand down on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “That sounds like a story you’ll have to share, one night.” He smiled at Satine. “We spoke a few hours ago. Good to meet you.” He sent a glare at the man who’d been standing next to Satine when they arrived, but he didn’t say anything to him. “Satine, I think we should get to know each other. You’re going to be busy with my buir for a while getting everything organized and helping him, but we should definitely make plans. I want to know all about you.”

Satine released Obi-Wan’s hand. “That sound agreeable, though I can’t make set plans until things have settled a little and... hello?” She saw Anakin and looked surprised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”

“I’m Anakin. Obi’s my big brother.”

Satine’s eyes went very wide. “Brother?”

Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “It’s a long story. But, yes. We’ve sort of adopted each other.”

Even with shields up, Anakin couldn’t help but feel waves of happiness/softness/joy coming from Boss Jaster’s people and most of the people watching them. Adopted. It didn’t sound nearly so scary coming from Obi-Wan as it had coming from Jango’s friends.

Boss Jaster quickly moved on. He motioned to Jango. “You know my son and...” He continued on in that way, telling Satine the names of people he’s brought with him and then Satine introduced the people standing with her. Boss Jaster listened patiently and when all was done, he put an arm over Satine’s shoulders and seemed to miss how wide her eyes went, as if she were shocked. “Why don’t we head in? We can have a nice chat without an audience and I’m sure my people would like to get settled.”

Satine nodded briskly. “Yes, of course. We have barracks cleaned and supplied, ready for occupation.” She hesitated a moment. “They aren’t new, I’m afraid. They were in disuse for several years. I’m told it’s all been put to rights now, though.” Satine took a deep breath. “As I tried to say before - welcome to Keldabe, Alor Mereel. We are honored to have you here. News of your claim to the title of Mand’alor has spread across the Empire and I am assured that you may expect several challenges in the coming days. In the meanwhile, I should like to make Keldabe Fortress welcome to you. I fully expect it to be your home for the rest of your life.”

Boss Jaster grinned and put his helmet back on. “Lead the way, Sat'ika! My people are tired and there is work to be done. We will need to get to know each other if we are to work together and I believe that sharing meals is an excellent way to encourage good relationships. The night is falling and we will all dine together tonight.”

Then it sort of turned into a parade and Anakin was about two seconds from bolting because there were too many people in the city. There were tons more people than he’d seen on Naboo and it was noisy, too. Obi-Wan put a hand on his shoulder and Aranar leaned against him. “It’s going to be alright,” Obi-Wan told him. “We’re going to be fine. Cities are normally very busy, but The Fortress is just ahead. It’ll only be a few more minutes.”

Anakin didn’t like it at all. He kept his shields up high and hard and so strong that it felt like the whole world faded a bit. He stayed close to Obi-Wan, desperate to be sheltered from so many people watching, but just as desperate to see because Keldabe was unlike anything he’d seen before.

While the desert reminded Anakin very much of Tatooine, there was nothing like Keldabe on Tatooine. The buildings were all stone and metal, not pressed sand-crete, and they were so tall. All of Tatooine’s buildings were small, tiny mounds of homes, unless someone was rich, like Diamyo Jabba, but there were so very few like that on Tatooine that they didn’t count, in Anakin’s mind.

There were speeders like he’d never seen and there weren’t many droids, but there were craftspeople selling wares along the streets in little booths. Everything was colorful, just as colorful as the beautiful flowers at Padme’s home. Tatooine was sand colored except for the sky that was always blue. There were no natural flowers that grew on Tatooine and even the people’s clothes were beige, white, brown - the color of sand. In Keldabe, just about everyone was dressed in bright clothes and armor. Anakin looked up and saw that in the sky people were flying with jet packs. It was amazing and terrifying and it felt right. He wanted to see one close up and his eyes flew to Jango.

Jango, standing on Obi-Wan’s other side, took his helmet off to grin at Anakin. “You wanna go flying, little brother?” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the jet pack he wore.

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open. He darted a look at Anakin, then up at one of the Mandalorians flying overhead. He shot his eyes to Jango. “No, he does not!”

“Yes, I do,” Anakin helpfully said. He wasn’t sure why Obi-Wan would think he wouldn’t want to go flying and guessed that maybe Obi-Wan was afraid of heights.

Anakin stayed squeezed between Obi-Wan and Aranar while he held Kal and petted it, getting comfort just from the little ball of warmth in his arms. Then Obi-Wan flapped his robe and it draped over Anakin, giving him just a little more darkness to hide in. “We’ve been walking a long while. Are you tired?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I’m okay.” Anakin was going to have to tell Obi-Wan about how hard he could work. Going for a walk was easy. He was used to working for hours and hours every day and sometimes all night, too. “Are you tired?”

Obi-Wan really did look tired. He had dark circles around his eyes. Obi-Wan ruffled Anakin’s hair. “Don’t worry about me. Look, we’re nearly there.”

The parade of people went through the city without trouble. Satine and Boss Jaster walked at the head of the group, speaking quietly. Satine kept her back straight and stiff, but when Jaster would turn to speak to her and Anakin could see his face from where he and Obi-Wan walked behind them, he saw that Boss Jaster’s face went soft when he looked at Satine. Before they reached The Fortress, they stopped at a group of several large buildings. They were rectangular and all of them were exactly the same.

“This,” Satine told Boss Jaster. “Is the barracks. If your people have nowhere to stay, then they are more than welcome here. There plenty of room, I’ve been told.”

Boss Jaster told Silas, “See to it, will you? Leave some on the ship. Just in case.”

Anakin wasn’t sure what ‘just in case’ was, but Silas tapped his right fist to his left shoulder in a salute Anakin had seen a couple of times and was off, snapping orders at the warriors who’d come off the ship with them. That left Anakin and Obi-Wan to walk with Boss Jaster, Jango, Satine, and all the unhappy people who walked with Satine. In a smaller group, they went to The Fortress and it was just as impressive as the rest of the city. There were doors that swung open and closed on metal hinges instead of sliding like normal doors. There were huge, embroidered tapestries on the wall and bright colored paintings.

Soon enough they came to a door that Satine pushed open and welcomed everyone in. “This,” Satine said. “Is the suite for you and your family. I hope it will be satisfactory.”

It was huge. Even bigger than as the rooms Padme had let him and Obi-Wan use. There was one big room and a bunch of doors that led away from it. There was a kitchen and a room that Jango said was to store weapons in. Anakin crept to one door and peered in. There was nothing in the room except a large pit in the middle of it, filled with blankets and pillows. “Are we sleeping in a hole in the ground?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan nodded. “It’s a traditional sleeping arrangement, for Mandalorians. It’s very comfortable. You’ll like it.”

“This is just fine,” Boss Jaster barely looked at the room when he said it. “The boys,” he gestured to Obi-Wan and Anakin. “Will be staying with me. Can’t let younglings stay on their own, after all. Jango, too.”

“I’m not a youngling, buir,” Jango said, rolling his eyes. “I’m twenty-three, remember? I served my Verd’Goten years ago.” He started opening and closing doors. “Plenty of rooms for sleeping. Got a real big sleeping pit in this one. Looks good enough for me. Plenty of room for lots more people, too. Say,” he turned to Satine with a bright smile. “Where do you stay?”

“I have a room down the hall.”

That made Boss Jaster turn to her, sharply. “A room? That doesn’t sound like much space for you and your guardian.”

Satine frowned. “Guardian? I’m nineteen; I don’t have a guardian.”

Boss Jaster and Jango gave each other a significant look that Anakin didn’t understand. But Boss Jaster said, “Well... I think it may be time for late meal. The sun’s already set so I’m sure everyone must be hungry.”

“Of course.” Satine started to the door. “The dining hall is ready for use, but if you would prefer something more private, I can have food sent here.”

“Oh, I think we can have a family meal here.” Jaster looked at the table in the modest dining room. “You’ll stay, I hope, Satine. There is much we have to discuss. In fact, I’m sure we’ll be spending a great deal of time together just getting me up to speed and...” he noticed Satine’s advisors standing in the hall just outside the door. “You can all leave. We don’t require any advising, at the moment.”

Most of them left without argument, but one stayed until Satine sighed. “Good night, Trion. I do need to speak with Alor Mereel.”

“Please,” Boss Jaster said. “You call me ‘Jaster’.

“Jaster, then. We do need to speak. It’s getting late. I’ll see you tomorrow, Trion.”

The man, Trion, grabbed Satine’s arm and pulled her into the hall, closing the door behind them.

Jaster’s smile vanished and he stared at the door so angrily that Anakin was almost afraid of him. Jaster put his helmet on, then announced, “Heat signatures say they’re just in the hall. They appear to be talking. He’s got three more seconds before I go out there.”

Anakin yanked Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “I don’t like that guy.”

Obi-Wan squeeze Anakin’s shoulder. “Let’s not make hasty judgments about people, my dear. He could be perfectly nice.” But he was staring at the door and he wasn’t smiling.

A moment later, Satine came back in, alone, and gave Boss Jaster a tight smile. “I’ve sent someone for food. It’ll be here in a moment.”

Food, again.

Anakin thought he might just explode. He’d eaten breakfast with Obi-Wan at Padme’s home, then Jango had given them a whole bunch of food when they were on the Bral and now Obi-Wan’s friend wanted to give them more food. He didn’t know how he was going to squeeze it all in, but he did hope Obi-Wan ate. He’d left food uneaten at their last meal and that wasn’t good.

They all sat together to eat once the food had been brought. There was more of the boiled grains and lots of meat. There were also vegetables. A big bowl of bright green leaves and little red round things and all other kinds of vegetables that Anakin didn’t have names for. He eyed it as he ate the grains and meat Obi-Wan had put on his plate. Anakin was utterly shocked when Obi-Wan put a large helping of the vegetables on his plate and leaned close to whisper, “No complaining. A good guest eats what is served, even vegetables.”

Complain? Who would complain about having such a rare luxury as vegetables? Anakin ate the vegetables with gusto. He’d never had so many in his whole life and it was wonderful!

The best surprise came at the end of the meal when Satine uncovered a large platter that held what she called ‘dessert’. It was like being given a treat after being allowed to eat. Anakin didn’t entirely understand it, but the platter Satine had uncovered was filled with cookies, pastries, slices of some kind of cake, and - to Anakin’s astonishment - fruit. He’d only ever seen fruit; it was too expensive to buy on Tatooine and no master would ever spoil their slaves by giving them fruit. On Tatooine, fruit had to be carefully tended in climate-controlled greenhouses, fed precious water and defended from desperate thieves. It was food for only the richest of the rich.

Boss Jaster reached out and took one of the fruits - something round and purple with little stripes of green. He used a knife to peel the skin off - which seemed like a waste to Anakin - then cut the flesh of the fruit into little slices that he placed on Anakin’s plate. “Eat up. They’re good for you.”

Fruit, Anakin learned, was delicious and was definitely his favorite food.

The conversation was very boring and Anakin concentrated on eating. He wished Obi-Wan would eat a little more. The grown-ups were talking about things like ‘guard rotations’, ‘diplomatic envoys’, ‘power transfers’, and ‘planetary defense’ - boring things like that. Anakin would much rather they talk about jet packs.

After a time, Anakin got sleepy. Normally, he wouldn’t sleep with so many strangers around, but he felt safe. Maybe it was the Force talking to him or maybe it was Obi-Wan at his side, but he felt safe. He tried not to yawn, tried to be polite, but before long, he leaned sideways and rested his head on Obi-Wan’s arm.

***

Someone was carrying Anakin. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep.

“I’m sorry about this, Jango,” Obi-Wan said. “I would carry him myself, but...”

“It’s no trouble,” Jango answered and his voice rumbled very close to Anakin’s ear. He was the one carrying Anakin. Still, Anakin felt too relaxed and safe to bother opening his eyes. “The kid’s as light as a feather.” He was quiet for a moment. “How are you doing?”

“Too weak to carry a feather light child, apparently.”

Anakin didn’t like something about how Obi-Wan said that.

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ll feel better in the morning, when you’ve got some rest. Father and I still need to deal with some things, so we’ll be back later.”

Anakin was lowered down and then found himself in a pile of softness. He blinked his eyes open long enough to see Jango and Obi-Wan standing over him while he was in a large pit of blankets and pillows. Aranar used its’ mouth to take hold of the pup, Kal, clinging to its’ back, then lowered Kal into the blanket pit with Anakin. Warm and comfy and with little Kal cuddled up close, Anakin closed his eyes and fell asleep.

***

Anakin woke up when there was a knocking sound. He heard some rustling from nearby and opened his eyes in time to see Obi-Wan, dressed in just his light-colored clothes climbing out of the sleeping pit. His brown robe had been taken off and folded up very carefully and left on the floor next to the sleeping pit and his feet were bare. Before he left the room, Obi-Wan put his boots on and laced them up, then put his brown robe back on. Surprisingly, there were lots of little ties and buckles to Obi-Wan’s Jedi clothes and he took the time to meticulously make sure everything was right before he left the sleeping room. He didn’t bother to close the door, so if Anakin sat up, he could see what was happening in the other room perfectly well.

Obi-Wan opened the door of the rooms they were staying in and Satine walked in. After Obi-Wan closed the door, the two of them stared at each other for a few long minutes.

“I apologize,” Satine said, stiffly. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes and I think I may never forgive you, you insensitive clod.”

For some reason Anakin didn’t understand, Satine smiled at the insult. “Such an old man. I clearly should have let you sleep. It seems you’re at the age when you’re starting to get cranky if you don’t get enough sleep.”

“At least this old man doesn’t go waking people up at all hours. And I have space-lag from so much traveling. Why don’t you show a little consideration, for once?”

“You’re in such a temper. I suppose you won’t forgive the cold greeting earlier? I didn’t mean it, you know. But with so many people around and a formal occasion, it seemed best to be... well... reserved.”

“Your chilly reception has entirely broken my heart. I may never recover from it. Really? A handshake?”

“You offered your hand first. Getting forgetful already? Shall I write your name on your robe so you don’t lose it?”

“I had hoped you wouldn’t be quite so dense and would know that I was just being shy when I offered my hand. I see I was wrong.” Obi-Wan spread open his arms and it only took a moment before Satine was at him and they hugged tightly. Obi-Wan laughed, softly. “I’ve missed you!”

Satine gave him a harder squeeze before she stepped away. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve missed you. You didn’t answer the last message I sent. I suppose I know why. Stopping a war on Naboo? Such a big mission. And you end up with a little brother. You always were a show-off. I really am sorry about visiting so late. There’s so much work to be done to get Alor... sorry... Jaster set up and in control. He’s good, though. He’s already got his warriors stationed in The Fortress. There are plans to start training the current guards. He and Jango are still working on some things, so I thought it would be a good time to visit.” She took his hands and held them. “Jaster said you were ill. You do look tired.”

“I’m exhausted, but I don’t want you to fret. The most worrisome part of it is over and I’ll be fine as soon as I return to the Temple. And you? You look tired, too.”

“It’s been a very long day. I think my father must be rolling over in his grave. He wanted me to be the Mand’alor of a peaceful society and I just gave the title away to a warlord. My advisors are not happy with me.”

“But are you happy with you?”

“It’s too early to tell.” Satine stepped away from Obi-Wan and began to wander around the large common room. “It’s like I’m being crushed under so much stress and worry, but I don’t seem to be able to get anything accomplished. There’s always something going wrong or something that could go wrong or I might say the wrong thing or do the wrong thing. And it seems like there’s no one to talk to. My advisors aren’t even mine, they were my father’s advisors, but I can’t find anyone better because I don’t know anyone and... and I’m only complaining. Poor Obi-Wan. You came all this way and I just carry on like this.”

Obi-Wan took Satine’s arm and, together, they sat on the couch. It faced where Anakin was, but neither of them noticed him watching. Obi-Wan said, “Don’t apologize. I didn’t realize it was so hard for you. You sounded so in control in the messages you sent. You don’t have anyone to talk to? No friends? I would have thought in four years...”

“Not everyone is as gregarious as you are. Some of us find that making friends is an intense, troubling challenge. Even my friends on Coruscant seem to have vanished. Honestly, the minute everyone learns that I’m a Mandalorian, suddenly they don’t want anything to do with me. I’m the same person I was before, but... well. What’s done is done.”

“What about friends here?” Obi-Wan leaned a little closer to her.

“My advisors tell me not to bother the staff, too much. They have work to do and can’t waste their time chatting with me. I know they’re right, everyone here is so busy and I shouldn’t interrupt them.”

“Have you tried meeting people outside The Fortress?”

“With Death Watch around? I don’t dare. Not only are they trying to kill me, but they don’t hesitate to use attacks like explosions that would hurt or even kill any innocent person around me. I could stand it if they were just targeting me, but if I leave The Fortress, I would make anyone around me a target, too.”

Obi-Wan smirked. “You do realize that most of your people would take such an attack as a challenge and would enjoy the excuse to fight back. I can’t imagine that Death Watch is any more popular with the citizens now than it was the last time I was here.”

Satine jumped to her feet and started pacing, again, at a quicker step. “I don’t know. I truly don’t know. Any time I ask my advisors anything, I get the run around. I need to learn about the people, Obi-Wan. You understand, don’t you? How can I live the rest of my life on Mandalore if I don’t even understand the people? But I get told that ‘it’s nothing to worry about’ and ‘the culture is nothing to be admired’ and ‘there’s no reason to learn about the common people’s violence’. But I need to learn. This is my home, now, whether the people like me or not. I don’t have anywhere else to go. It’s not as if I can go back to Coruscant. Can you imagine? Do you think the Senate would allow a politically powerful Mandalorian to simply go to school on Coruscant? If I tried, they’d never give me a moment of peace and, for all I know, there would be Death Watch there, too, and they would attack and it would turn into a horrible excuse for a war between the Mandalorian Empire and the Republic. So, I’m here but I don’t know anything and I’m just lonely all the time and those advisors seem to be the only people I ever see and I can’t get rid of them because even if they only give me a little information, it’s more than I could get entirely secluding myself here. There are books here that help, but I don’t read Mandalorian very well, yet, and there’s only so much a book can tell you about people and... and I’m rambling, again.” She sat heavily on the sofa and Obi-Wan patted her back.

“I think you’ve been under a lot of pressure and I think we should talk further about the wisdom of those advisors of yours. Isolating yourself from the people doesn’t sound like very good advice to me.” He shook his head. “This is my fault, too. When we were running from Death Watch I shouldn’t have made you wait while I went to speak with people and got supplies. I was trying to keep you hidden from any Death Watch operatives, but I think it would have been better for you to meet your citizens. Yes, they might be a tad on the violent side, but for the most part I’ve found Mandalorians to be lovely people. Perhaps we should speak with Alor Mereel about this. I’ve only known him for a few hours, but he seems to be a sensible man. He may have some ideas to help you. After all, it’s in his best interest that you’re able to do the best job possible as his assistant.”

Satine wrinkled her nose. “Yes... him.”

“You don’t like him?”

“I don’t dislike him. But... he’s a hugger.”

Obi-Wan cover his mouth with his hand and laughed. “Yes. That was a little awkward. I’m impressed with your self-restraint. I know for a fact that you can cuss like a pirate and I thought you’d give him an earful. Do you want me to talk to him for you? He’s not a bad sort, I don’t think. He won’t hug you again if you don’t like it.”

“Don’t bother. He didn’t mean any harm and it only surprised me. Perhaps you’re right about talking to him, though. He does seem to be very popular with the people and getting his counsel on how I can learn more about Mandalore without endangering people will be a good way to start our working relationship. You always give such good advice. Master Jinn must be proud of you. Where is he?”

The room went very quiet and Anakin felt his blood go a little cold. He sank down in the sleeping pit until he could only just barely see Obi-Wan and Satine. Out of everything that had been discussed over the late meal, that had not come up in conversation.

Obi-Wan’s voice was very calm, just like when he’d spoken to Anakin in the infirmary in Padme’s house. “Master Qui-Gon died in the Battle of Naboo. He has rejoined The Force. I rejoice for him.”

“Oh! Oh, no. Obi-Wan, dear, I’m so sorry.” She gave Obi-Wan another hug, but then sat back and took his hands, just as he’d taken hers only a few minutes earlier. “Can I do anything for you?”

“No. Thank you. Alor Mereel has been kind. Master Qui-Gon’s body is being kept in stasis until we can get back to the Temple. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you...”

“You’re sorry if you upset me?!” Satine sniffed. “Don’t you dare pretend to be so unfeeling with me! I can spot that lie a million light years away. We spent nearly every minute together for a full year - you are the last being in this whole galaxy that I would think is unfeeling, so don’t you try it. I know you’re upset. It’s alright.” She sniffed, again, and wiped her eyes with her fingers. “I always admired your Master. He worked so hard for peace.” She inched a little closer to Obi-Wan and put an arm around his shoulders. “You let me know when you need a shoulder to cry on.”

They sat quietly together for a time and Obi-Wan reached up his hand to hold hers that was hanging over his shoulder. He held that hand, then patted her arm. He happened to turn his head a little, then froze, staring at where the sleeve of her gown had risen up a little.

“Satine?”

“Yes?”

“There are bruises on your arm.”

Satine jerked her arm away from him and pulled down the sleeve of her gown to cover her arm right down to the wrist.

“In fact, those bruises look rather uncomfortably like bruises made by fingers.” Obi-Wan looked Satine directly in the eyes. “Who hurt you?”

Anakin’s eyes narrowed.

“It’s nothing to worry about.” Satine stood up and walked away, out of Anakin’s line of sight.

“I would say that someone leaving bruises on you is something to worry about.” Obi-Wan followed Satine and their voices faded as they walked further from the room Anakin was in.

“Obi-wan says Jedi help people,” Anakin whispered, to himself. He looked at where Aranar and Kal slept in the sleeping pit. “I’m gonna be a Jedi so I gotta practice.”

Neither of the striil woke up when Anakin climbed out of the sleeping pit. Satine needed help. She needed water and bruise salve. So, with a determined grimace, Anakin crept to the door and peeked out. When he was sure that both Satine and Obi-Wan were too busy talking to notice him, he slipped out of the room and went to the front door of Boss Jaster’s rooms. Perhaps he should have told Obi-Wan where he was going, but Obi-Wan was busy talking to Satine and it was rude to interrupt people when they were talking.

Alone and with no clue about where he was going, Anakin ventured into the dark halls of The Fortress.

To Be Continued...

Buir - parent
Verd’Goten - coming of age ceremony
Sat'ika - A familiar, fond nick name. Sort of like ‘Little Satine’.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17 - Hot Coals

Master Dooku-

Qui-Gon’s rooms at the Temple were not as austere as most Masters. There were plants and books, a well-worn quilt on the back of the sofa. There were few signs that Qui-Gon shared the rooms with his padawan - Obi-Wan was a tidy child who did not make a habit of leaving his things laying around - but he’d left his schoolwork on the kitchen table where he habitually worked on it.

At the kitchen table, Dooku sat with Qui-Gon. “It’s good to see you, Master. It’s been a while,” Qui-Gon said, as he poured Dooku a cup of very good tea. “Obi-Wan will be happy to see you.” He sliced a piece of cake and set it in front of Dooku. The cake was homemade, judging from the mess in the kitchen Dooku had seen when he’d walked into Qui-Gon’s rooms. Dooku dimly wondered where he'd gotten the ingredients for the cake as real food was not usually readily available in the Temple, but Qui-Gon was resourceful and had ways to earn money outside the Temple. He didn't often go into details about the ways he earned money. “Do you like the berry cake?”

Dooku only barely resisted rolling his eyes as he took a bite of the cake. “I think you know it’s a particular favorite of mine.”

“Is it? Goodness. That’s lucky - and to think I made it on a whim the very morning you came to visit. What a coincidence.”

“Indeed.” Dooku drank his tea and when the cup was empty, he asked, “What do you want?”

“Obi-Wan requires further instruction and I’m not able to give it.”

And that, Dooku took as an insult as well as being completely unbelievable. “I beg your pardon? Do you think I’d knight anyone who wasn’t proficient?”

“The problem, Master, is that I have to go somewhere and I can’t bring Obi-Wan with me. I wanted to make arrangements for him.” Qui-Gon got that wicked little glimmer in his eyes Dooku remembered from when his padawan was young and wanted to bask in his own mischief. “Do you think Master Ferndoc would be willing to take care of Obi-Wan?”

Dooku’s eye twitched. “What?”

“Well, Obi-Wan does have a bit of talent and it would be a shame to let that go to waste just because I’m gone. Maybe Master Hinsdale would have time in her schedule.”

Dooku set his cup down a little more roughly than was necessary. “Master Ferndoc doesn’t know one end of a lightsaber from another and Master Hinsdale is a twit.”

“Well,” Qui-Gon served Dooku another slice of cake. “If you have any better ideas, I’m willing to consider other possibilities.”

“Why don’t you just come out and ask? Yes, of course I will babysit... er... supervise Obi-Wan.”

Qui-Gon grinned and looked into his teacup. “That’s good. Thank you. I was worried. It’s a comfort to know the boys will be looked after.”

Dooku froze. He looked around the rooms. “Boys? More than just Obi-Wan?”

“Yes. They’ll need someone to look after them and I’m glad it will be you. I trust no one more than you.”

But... there was only Obi-Wan. The world went sort of fuzzy at the edges. “Oh.” Dooku set down his cake. “This is a dream. Isn’t it?”

Qui-Gon raised his eyes and stared at Dooku. “Master, I won’t see you for a while, now. I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You didn’t hurt me.”

The pain of Qui-Gon’s death. The grief... his little padawan, so small, the smallest of his age-group and always wanting a hug - dead so far from home. Gone. Taken so brutally, so quickly. The burning rage that wrapped around the grief, the terrible, terrible pain.

Qui-Gon shook his head with a laugh. “Don’t lie, Master. You’re not very good at it.” He reached across the table and put his warm hand on Dooku’s. “Thank you... for everything.”

***

Dooku woke very suddenly and without pain. The memory of his dream of Qui-Gon, the feeling of Qui-Gon’s hand on his own, was vivid and real. For a few minutes, Dooku stared up at the ceiling of the ship. The agonizing hole that had been left in his mind at Qui-Gon’s death was... not gone... but patched. He could feel it, knew it was there, but he no longer felt completely crippled by pain and grief. Dooku blinked a few times, getting accustomed to the feeling. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize he was laying down with his head resting on Master Plo Koon’s lap.

Master Koon stroked Dooku’s hair with his talons, ever so gentle with such deadly weapons. “Hello. How are you feeling?”

“Better. Thank you for your help.”

It had been Master Koon who’d guided him mentally through repairing his damaged mind enough that he would be able to function correctly. He remembered how shamefully out of control he’d been, how little constraint he’d had over his emotions. It was expected - he had seen others behave in a similar fashion when losing someone they’d been bonded with and had never thought they should be shamed for their pain - but he had never thought he would find himself in such a position. It had been entirely undignified.

Dooku stood up and went to look out one of the ship’s windows. “Where are we?”

“At the border of the Mandalorian Empire. Mace has been sending transmissions at regular intervals, hoping for something to get through. Of course, we still don’t know that the younglings are over there. We’re only hoping.”

He had never thought that he would hope the youngest ones of his Line were in the custody of unknown Mandalorians, perhaps even the murderer who’d killed the innocent technician on Naboo. The alternative, though... trapped in the Solstice Storm completely out of reach of any help and Obi-Wan suffering from Arkon Poisoning... it was too terrible to think of. The only comfort he had was that the murderer from Naboo was only one out of billions of Mandalorians and that Death Watch only numbered in the hundreds. The chances were overwhelmingly good that if the boys had been found, they would have been found by kind-hearted Mandalorians who would have sheltered and protected them.

He closed his eyes and reached his mind outward. He wouldn’t be able to find the younger boy as he’d never even met Anakin, let alone had time to establish a proper relationship, but he knew Obi-Wan quite well. He had even tutored Obi-Wan in saber lessons for a time. So, he opened his mind and reached out with the hope of finding some trace of Obi-Wan, however unlikely it was with the lad being so far away. Instead of getting any sense of Obi-Wan, he felt a distinctive and familiar bubbly sort of feeling in the Force.

He scowled at the ceiling of the ship. “I think Qui-Gon is laughing at me.”

Master Koon put a concerned hand on Dooku’s arm. “Qui-Gon has rejoined the Force.”

“Yes.” Dooku sniffed. “He always was precocious.”

Mace came into the common room from the cockpit and sat at one of the seats around a small table. He said, “We need to speak. I received a message from Master Yoda a short time ago. You should both see this. I believe he’s sharing this information with the rest of the council.”

Dooku said, “I am not a council member.”

“You should hear this - this has almost everything to with your Line.” Mace folded his hands on his lap. “Master Yoda sent me a recorded text message telling me to read the Ruusan Reformation on page 10,568.”

Dooku listened to the recorded conversation between the Naboo senator and Master Yoda and he listened to how the Naboo senator had brazenly used the younglings’ first names and confessed to giving them compliments. All the while that he listened, he kept himself calm. With the wound in his mind healed as best as it ever would be, he had little trouble controlling the anger and disgust that the new information stirred in him. He was a Jedi Master - he would not let such emotions distract him.

He steepled his fingers together as he listened to Mace and Master Koon lay out everything they knew. When they finished speaking, Dooku said, “I would like to speak with Master Yoda.”

Mace nodded. “So would I, but I expect there is a reason why Master Yoda sent brief recordings rather than speaking to us live. There is a chance that what he wants to say to us will need to stay hidden, at least for a while. We will have to see him in person to prevent our conversations from being intercepted.”

Dooku asked, “Is this senator so dangerous?”

“He was recently elected Chancellor. He may not be powerful in this exact moment,” Master Koon told him. “But very soon he will have control over our Order.”

“Not necessarily.” Mace tapped a few buttons on the computer and brought up the section of the Ruusan Reformation that Master Yoda had asked him to read. “Tell me what you think of this.”

After reading the simple few sentences, Dooku felt a thrill of excitement. For years he had been all too aware of, and unhappy with, the amount of power the Chancellor had over the Jedi Order. But that power was legal, had been given to the Republic’s Chancellor by the Jedi themselves many, many years ago.

“This is it, then.” Dooku stared at the passage. It was clear. Completely clear without any chance that it could be misunderstood. “This is our way out of the Republic.”

“Not yet.” Mace leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. “The passage says that the Jedi are responsible for controlling what goes on inside the temple, not the Chancellor. At this moment, Palpatine is a senator, not a Chancellor. We would have to wait until Palpatine is made Chancellor and then attempts to take our younglings from the Temple against the wishes of the Master of the Order.”

Master Koon let out a deep breath and he, too, sat back, as if the realization of what was approaching them, the sheer monumental change that was coming, was almost too much. “He’s going to break the Ruusan Reformation. I... in a thousand years, this has never happened.”

“Well, it’s happening now,” Dooku said. “The question is - what will we do about it?”

Mace looked at the text message Master Yoda had sent and when he spoke, his voice was very soft. “If Senator Palpatine realizes what he is about to do, he will either back off and leave our younglings alone or he may try to take steps to prevent us from leaving Coruscant.”

“Of course he, and the Senate, will try to stop us. The Jedi are too useful.” Dooku had been advocating for the Order to leave Coruscant for years, but even he hadn’t actually thought it would happen in his lifetime. To be so close to independence, so close to leaving everything they’d ever known for thousands of years, it was almost dizzying. “And it’s come to that? Leaving? Where do we go?”

“Almost anywhere other than Coruscant - the Senate and the Chancellor are too powerful there.” Master Koon tapped his claws on the tabletop. “Even if we just move to a more friendly planet, like Alderaan or Naboo, it will still greatly weaken the Senate’s power to control us and put more power into the hands of whichever planet makes us welcome. It would cause a lot of hostility within the Republic and, possibly, war. None of us want war.”

Dooku slapped a hand on the table and stood. He started to pace, then came to stop near one of the windows that looked out at the vast space outside the ship. “We will have to find somewhere to go. We will not start a war, but we must defend our people. No one else will.”

“I am concerned about how the Senate might try to stop us,” Mace said.

Dooku waved off the concern. “They have no army. The worst they can do is try to send mercenaries after us and mercenaries aren’t usually foolish enough to take this type of job. The reputation of the Jedi is impressive.”

Master Koon said, “They could hire Mandalorians.”

The ship went quiet. It was an awful thought.

Mace shook his head. “You heard how Palpatine spoke about them. I doubt he’d trust them enough to hire them. And the Senate wouldn’t allow the Mandalorians to have such power within Republic space. It would take an army of them to stop us all and the Senate would believe that such a mass of Mandalorians in Republic space would attempt to overthrow the Republic.”

“You are presuming that Palpatine hates them more than he would hate losing us. Besides, he doesn’t have to respect them to pay them. And it is my belief that he will have little trouble convincing the Senate that free Jedi are more of a threat than the Mandalorians.” Master Koon joined Dooku at the window. “The wealth of the Republic could rent a great number of Mandalorian mercenaries. If they came at us as an army, rather than single mercenaries... I’m not sure who would win.”

Dooku had fought Mandalorians, in the past. They were a formidable people, certainly not a people to be underestimated. If the Senate chose to get the Mandalorians officially involved by making some sort of treaty with the Mandalorian government...

‘Calmly,’ Dooku told himself. ‘Be calm.’

Finally, Mace said, “We will discuss this at length when we can meet in person as a council. We will not make this decision lightly or quickly. We do not KNOW anything other than the fact that a senator has been unforgivably discourteous and that he must be kept away from our younglings.”

Dooku turned on him and felt his calm trying to escape him. “So, we do nothing? I want my grandpadawans, but I won’t bring them back to the Temple only to have them be put in danger!”

“I didn’t say that. We must think and we must prepare for the worst case.” Mace left the table and went back to the cockpit. “I’m going to contact the Service Corps. They’ve been helping in the search for the boys, so they’ll be expecting to be contacted.”

Master Koon nodded. “Yes. That’s an excellent idea. We could easily fit everyone in the Temple into the Service Corps’ fleet, if we need to do an emergency evacuation.”

“My thoughts exactly,” Mace said. “It may not be a perfect solution, but we will be able to get everyone off Coruscant in hours if the fleet is ready. Who knows - perhaps I’m worried over nothing.”

The Service Corps was a good idea. The fleet was not huge - only a dozen ships or so - but there would be room for everyone. They may have to leave some of their treasures, such as the archives and the very few personal belongs their people possessed, but at least the people would survive and they could build a new archive, over time.

With luck, it wouldn’t come to that. They could, perhaps, negotiate their way off Coruscant, especially if Palpatine was stupid enough to break the Ruusan Reformation when he became Chancellor, and they could publicly prove that their Order had been wronged. They would find a new home on a planet far enough from Coruscant to be out from under the Senate’s thumb, but close enough to help when help was needed. With luck, the Mandalorians wouldn’t stand against them.

‘Master Koon is right,’ Dooku thought. ‘Could we win against an army of Mandalorians? There are so few of us.’

“Come up here!” Mace’s voice was shockingly loud when he called out. “There’s a small break in the Solstice Storm. I think I can get a transmission through!”

Dooku and Master Koon nearly flew to the cockpit and hoovered over Mace’s seat for what seemed like a very long while. Then the communication screen in front of him flickered with static for a moment before it began to clear and it showed the face of a boy. He was very young with a round face and serious, blue eyes. His hair was fair and straight as a pin. The boy’s eyes went wide at seeing them. “Hi, Master Windu.”

“Skywalker! Are you alright? We’re -” The screen went back to static and Mace’s shoulders slumped. “The signal’s gone. At least we know he’s alive and the signal was coming from the Mandalorian Empire. We’ll keep monitoring for another weak spot in the storm so we can try to get another transmission though.” He looked over his shoulder at Dooku. “That was Anakin Skywalker.”

Anakin. The youngest of Dooku’s Line. He was alive and looked well enough. If only Dooku knew how Obi-Wan was doing.

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Jaster-

It was late, very late, when Jaster stepped into one of The Fortress’ training rooms with Jango. It was a rather surreal feeling to be in The Fortress of Keldabe. Jaster had never even been to Mandalore before that day and here he was, trying to make it his home.

“Are you sure about this?” Jango already had his helmet on and a long, serrated blade in each hand even before the door of the training room had closed behind them. “You should write that speech, claiming your new title. The people will expect it.”

“You’re so responsible.” Jaster put his own helmet on and sealed it closed, ensuring that it wouldn’t fall off during the fight. “Think of it this way - if I lose any of the fights in the coming week, then I won’t need a speech.”

“You’re not going to lose.” Jango walked the perimeter of the room. There was a padded mat covering part of the floor space, undoubtedly used when children needed lessons, but other than that the room was bare metal.

Jaster took out his own knives to use. They were quite different than Jango’s - shorter and broader - but would do well enough for a relaxing knife fight. “I hope to live up to your expectation. Now, are you going to help me practice for the challenges or should I call someone else to be my sparring partner?”

Jango charged without warning.

For a good long while, they fought. Jango tended to fight ruthlessly when he was in a real battle, but for sparring he did make an effort to fight fair. It wasn’t easy for him, but Jaster did appreciate the attempt. They fought until sweat ran down Jaster’s face and he felt, not for the first time, a surge of pride and admiration for Jango. Jango had grown and learned so much since Jaster had found him, newly orphaned and angry at the whole Universe for his pain. Jaster was truly honored to be able to call Jango his son. But he wouldn’t go easy on Jango, he would never insult his child by ‘allowing’ him to win. No, if Jango was going to win a match between them, then he was going to earn his victory and Jaster would brag to anyone who would listen. Jango was winning more and more frequently against him.

This time, Jaster won. He managed to get at Jango’s back and brought him down with a kick to the back of the knee and was at him almost before Jango hit the ground. With one of his knives aimed squarely at a vulnerable spot under Jango’s arm, he asked, “Are we done?”

Jango sighed. “We’re done. I give.”

Jaster opened his mouth to say something, but there was a knock on the door. When he opened it, there stood Myles, his helmet under one arm and Anakin under the other. Jaster chuckled at the sight of Anakin fighting and struggling while entirely secured under Myles’ arm. “Hello, Myles.”

Anakin demanded, “Put me down!”

Myles gave Anakin a fond look. He had four younger siblings, so he knew how to handle small children. “Hello, Alor.”

“Let me go! I’m busy!” Anakin kicked and swung his arms which, of course, did no damage at all.

Still clearly very amused, Myles said, in Mandalorian, “This lad was trying to get out of The Fortress. Bold as you please, he went straight for the front gate and told the guard on duty that he needed to go out to the landing field. In the middle of the night. Alone. Of course, the guard called me and I thought that you would be the perfect responsible adult to deal with this feral little striil.”

Anakin tried to bite Myles.

“Alright, alright.” Jaster took off his helmet and switched to speaking Basic. “Put him down, Myles. An’ika, calm down. No one’s going to hurt you. You met Myles, already.”

The minute Anakin was put on the floor, he turned around and aimed a kicked at Myles. Myles dodged it and Anakin fell to the ground. He looked up at Myles and spat something that was probably very rude, but Jaster didn’t speak much Hutt, so he really wasn’t sure.

Jaster waved Myles off. “Hello, An’ika. It’s late. You should be sleeping.”

Anakin glowered, fearsomely, but he made no move to get up. “I’m on a mission ‘n Jango’s friend stopped me.”

“Oh,” Jaster said, thoughtfully. “That sounds important. Take a couple of deep breaths. Now, what’s so important that you have to sneak out of The Fortress in the middle of the night? I’m going to take a guess and say that Kenobi doesn’t know where you are?”

“He’s busy talkin’ to Satine. I don’t need to be looked after, I take care of myself. I gotta go to your ship ‘cause Doctor Gihan’s there and I gotta talk to him and I need some water.”

“Water is simple enough. In our rooms, there’s water in the kitchen.”

Anakin stared for a moment, then bit his bottom lip. “I forgot you’re really rich so you can have water any time you want.” A little calmer than he had been when Myles had hauled him to Jaster, Anakin said, “I wouldn’t have done anything bad on your ship.”

“I didn’t think you would.”

Anakin bit his lip and looked down at his shoes. “Are you very mad?”

Jaster crouched down to look Anakin in the eye. “What would I be mad about?”

“Me sneaking around in the middle of the night. I wasn’t gonna run away. Honest.”

It broke Jaster’s heart to hear Anakin’s voice go from loud and fiery to suddenly meek and frightened. “I’m not mad about anything you did. But it was dangerous. Next time, you just tell me or Jango what you need and we’ll help. I -”

“Buir,” Jango said, in Mandalorian. “We need to go to the Communications Center.” He pulled off his helmet, smirking. “Got a nice surprise for An’ika.”

Also in Mandalorian, because he didn’t know what surprise Jango wanted to hide from Anakin, Jaster asked, “What kind of nice surprise?”

“Got a message from the Communications Center. They just contacted me.” He tapped his helmet to indicated how they’d contacted him. “There’s a small break in the Solstice Storm and they think we might be able to get a message through.”

At once, Jaster stood and patted Anakin on the shoulder. “Come along, An’ika.” He waited until Anakin was standing, then started down the hall at a fast pace, though he kept looking to see that Anakin was keeping pace with him. “I think we may have a happy surprise for you.”

“What’s going on?”

“I told you - a surprise.”

Jaster led Anakin through the halls. As they walked, Anakin asked, “Is learning to talk like a Mandalorian hard? I don’t understand a lot of what people say here.”

Jaster couldn’t deny he was pleased with Anakin’s question. “It does take work. Would you like to learn? Learning Mando’a is one of the requirements for becoming a Mandalorian. You can learn. We have some schools that specialize in teaching people how to be Mandalorian. You can learn our culture and history along with our language.” He didn’t add that one of the major aspects of the schools was that they had a focus not only on scholastic education, but also physical instruction with the goal of bringing the students to peak health as many of the students had come from extremely hard circumstances. Such instruction would do Anakin very well and the fighting instruction would be an excellent outlet for Anakin’s obvious lurking anger.

The Communications Center was a large room filled with transmission terminals and Mandalorians controlling those terminals. One of the technicians saw them and immediately rushed to them. She wasn’t one of Jaster’s people, but was rather one of the workers who’d been in The Fortress for years. She saluted. “Sirs, it’s right here.” She led them to one of the larger image screens in the room. “I’m not sure we’ll get a clear connection, but there’s something coming through and it’s from right near where you reported finding this one.” She gave Anakin a gentle smile.

Jango asked, “Do we know who it is?”

“No, but...”

An image began to form on the screen. There was a lot of static, but slowly a face became visible. It was a man with no hair with two other Jedi - judging by their robes - standing on either side of him.

“Hi, Master Windu.” Anakin gave a little wave.

“Skywalker!” Master Windu’s voice was a bit broken up by the static, but even Jaster could hear a note of relief in it. “Are you alright? We’re -” Master Windu’s voice faded into nothing and his face disappeared into static.

“Can you get him back,” Jaster asked the technician.

“It’s gone, alor. One of those weak spots in the storm that comes and goes appeared and they tried to slip the transmission through. We’re monitoring for another one.” The technician gave Anakin a sympathetic look. “We’re not giving up. We’ll get them.”

Anakin stared at the static-filled screen. “Obi’s gonna be so sad he missed that.”

“He’ll get another chance,” Jaster reassured him. The three of them were just leaving the Communications Center when Jaster asked, “Why were you looking for water and Doctor Gihan, anyway?”

“I need bruise salve. It’s for Satine.”

Jaster looked at Anakin, sharply. “Why does Satine need water and bruise salve?”

“’Cause her arm is really bruised up. Obi-Wan’s unhappy about it and him being unhappy is making Satine unhappy. Obi-Wan thinks someone’s been hurting her.”

A lower simmer of anger, like hot coals, burned in Jaster’s gut. “Why don’t we go see Sat’ika?”

With Anakin on his side and Jango on the other side of Anakin, Jaster marched back to the rooms he’d been given for him and his family. The moment Jaster stepped through the door both Satine and Obi-Wan started and turned to look at him. One sleeve of Satine’s gown was pushed nearly up to her shoulder and Obi-Wan gently held her bare arm. There was a liberal spread of darkening bruises from her wrist to her elbow.

Jango tapped the transmitter on his vambrace. “Doctor Gihan, please come to Jaster’s rooms. Not an emergency, but come as quickly as you can.”

Those hot coals in Jaster’s gut burst into flames.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: Cultural Differences

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
The Fortress-
Obi-Wan-

Obi-Wan studied Satine’s arm. The bruises weren’t horrible, not really. He had seen much worse injuries, but he hadn’t seen them on her.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Satine told him, tightly. “You don’t have to look at me like that.”

There were bruises on both of her arms from the wrists right up past her elbows. Someone had been grabbing her very roughly. “I think you should go to the infirmary.”

“Nonsense. It’s late and they have better things to do than deal with a few bruises.”

A shrill alarm ran up Obi-Wan’s spine. The attitude she had about the bruises was too much like some of the thoughts he often had about his own injuries after...

Obi-Wan’s hand drifted up to this throat where he knew he bore a faint scar from a slave collar. He hated thinking about that thing. Hated that he’d see the scar, however faint, every time he looked in a mirror, that other people saw it and KNEW. Jango had seen it. Perhaps he’d already told Jaster and then what would the future Mand’alor think about the Jedi if a Padawan couldn’t even keep themselves free of a slave collar? He’d hated having Master Che examine the wound, hated the time it took to heal that wound because it was his own fault and...

“It’s not your fault,” Master Qui-Gon had said. “You didn’t want it or ask for it. It was done to you.”

“If I’d been smarter... faster... better... I wouldn’t have been caught and I’d have never had that collar put on me.”

But Master Qui-Gon had leaned in close and looked Obi-Wan in the eyes, sincerity flooding his voice. “It was NOT your fault. I will say it as often as I need to until you believe me.”

It had seemed silly when Master Qui-Gon had said it to Obi-Wan, but now that he stood in front of Satine who looked anywhere but her bruised arms, those words didn’t seem silly at all.

“It wasn’t your fault. The physicians here are busy, I’m sure, but they are busy healing people and you need healing. Who did this to you?” He held her arm as gently as he could, as if she might break if he was too rough, though he knew that was ridiculous. She was tougher than most people guessed.

“That’s neither here nor there. I wish you wouldn’t get so upset over little things. We were having a very nice conversation.”

Obi-Wan looked at her and tried his very best to give her that amazing raised eyebrow that Master Healer Che gave anyone who tried to question her professional judgment. It might have worked because Satine looked away, pursing her lips uncomfortably. He said, “How would you feel if you saw me all bruised up and I wouldn’t talk to you about it?”

There might have been a flash of guilt on her face.

Obi-Wan continued, “If someone’s hurting you, they need to stop.”

The door of Alor Mereel’s apartment was flung open and Anakin ran in followed closely by Alor Mereel and Jango.

“Anakin? Where have you been?” Obi-Wan asked, stunned. “You were asleep!”

“And now I’m not.” Anakin dashed into the kitchen, then climbed up onto the counter where he retrieved a ceramic drinking cup. He carefully filled it half-way with water from the tap, then climbed back down to the floor. Proud as anything, he went to Satine and held the cup out to her with both hands. “Water to make you feel better, Sissy.”

Satine stared at Anakin and his offering, then looked up, over his head to where Alor Mereel stood. She looked back down at Anakin and gave him a soft smile. “Thank you. How kind.” She took the water and sipped it, solemnly enough to make Anakin beam.

“Hey. Hey, Obi?” Anakin leaned heavily against Obi-Wan. “Can I go to school?”

“You will have lessons at the Temple. Remember? We talked about it.”

“Yes, but Boss Jaster said I can go to school here, too. They’ve got schools to teach people how to be Mandalorian.”

Astonished, Obi-wan asked “Do you want to be a Mandalorian?”

Anakin nodded and yawned.

“But I thought you wanted to be a Jedi.”

“I’m gonna be both. Obi, you gotta think.” He looked at Obi-Wan with that dreadfully adult expression that he would sometimes get when he spoke about things that were important to him. “You don’t have your Force anymore. And no one at your Temple wanted me there ‘cept you ‘n Master Jinn.” He leaned a little closer and whispered, “What if they don’t let us live at the Temple? I mean - can you be a Jedi if you don’t have the Force? So, just in case they don’t let us live at the Temple, we can stay here and I’ll be a Mandalorian and I’ll take care of you and Sissy Satine. Okay?”

“We aren’t staying here. There will be people from the Temple here the minute the Solstice Storm ends. I promise, we’re going back to the Temple.”

“But, what if we don’t go back? It could happen. You could be wrong. So, just in case I’ll go to school here and learn Mandalorian stuff. Just to be safe. And Sissy Satine can go to school with me ‘cause I heard you talkin’, but you didn’t know I was awake. Anyway, I heard you talking and she said she hasn’t got any friends and there’s lots of stuff she doesn’t know about Mandalore and Mandalorians, so it would be great if she went to school with me. It’s a school to learn how to be a Mandalorian so it would be perfect for Sissy Satine. Right, Boss Jaster?”

Obi-Wan looked away from Anakin to see Alor Mereel had taken his helmet off and stared at Satine, wide-eyed and clearly unhappy. “Yes... I think it might be a good idea for Sat’ika to go to school.”

Anakin continued, “Oh! Oh, I saw your Jedi, Obi.”

“What?” Obi-Wan focused on Anakin, again. “When?”

“A few minutes ago. Jango took us to a room with lots of transmission terminals and people working and there was one of those really big transmission screens, the kind with the built in language translator and automatic signal tracer, and at first the signal was so weak that it was all staticy, but then it cleared up for a minute and it showed one of your Jedi. It was the grumpy Jedi, Master Windu. And it was really weird, ‘cause I think he was happy to see me. Isn’t that funny?”

Shocked, Obi-Wan looked back at Alor Mereel. “You made contact?”

“It was just for a few seconds. I have people monitoring where the signal came from and as soon as they can establish another connection, you’ll be the first to know.” Alor Mereel took a few steps into the room, his eyes going from Obi-Wan to Satine and then back. He didn’t look happy, but his arms were loose at his sides and he set his helmet down on one of the little tables next to the sofa. His voice was soft when he asked, “What happened to your arms, Sat’ika?”

Obi-Wan glanced at Satine and saw that, as she focused on the newcomers, her face set in a way that he associated with danger and yelling and, likely, swearing.

“Umm... Anakin,” Obi-Wan said. “Why don’t you go get some more sleep? It’s much too late for you to be up.”

“It’s okay I’m not a bit tired. So what do you think about me going to school? I bet I could learn so much, but if you don’t like the idea, then I don’t want to go.” Anakin smiled up at Obi-Wan, then froze. He stopped smiling and seemed to shrink in on himself. “What’s wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Obi-Wan stepped forward and put himself between where Satine and Anakin stood and Alor Mereel. “Hello, everyone. This is a bit tense. Why don’t we all - ”

Alor Mereel stepped forward. He gave Obi-Wan a brief, entirely unexpected hug, then moved him gently out of the way so that he and Satine stood just a few feet apart. The size difference between the two of them was dramatic. Alor Mereel inhaled deeply, closed his eyes for a moment, then, with obvious self-restraint, asked, “Your arms?”

“Hardly your affair.” Satine, as she always did, held herself with great decorum. “There is nothing for you to worry about.”

“I think we’ll have to disagree on that. I need to know who’s been hurting you, Sat’ika. I won’t let you be abused,” Jaster said, his voice firm with determination.

Satine’s mouth fell open, shocked. “What? I am NOT being abused!”

Obi-Wan held Anakin’s hand while he stood at Satine’s side, silent but resolute in showing his support for her.

“Your arms tell me differently. Did you get those bruises while training? It might be explained by grappling lessons, but I was under the impression that you haven’t been given any such training. If it wasn’t training, then there is no reason for anyone to be grabbing you in such a way that would leave bruises all over you!”

Satine opened her mouth to give what Obi-Wan was certain would be a sharply impolite reply, but Doctor Gihan walked into the room. He stepped in front of Alor Mereel. “A little tranquilly, if you all please. Alor, do you need to step outside and take a breath? I won’t have you disturbing my patient, so if you’re going to get your hackles up, you can leave.”

Alor Mereel clenched his fists, but nodded. “Of course. You’re quite correct.”

Doctor Gihan went to Satine and smiled, showing off his long fangs in a friendly manner. “Duchess Kryze, I believe? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Doctor Vo Gihan, Alor Mereel’s chief medic. Let’s take a look at those bruises, shall we?”

Satine began to look a little wild around the eyes, but she tugged her sleeves back up as far as she could and held out her arms to be examined. She glared at the floor, but there was no point in hiding or denying her injuries. Everyone had already seen and, thanks to Anakin’s innocent babbling, even knew some things she probably hadn’t wanted anyone else to know. So she stood there in unhappy silence while Doctor Gihan did his work.

Thankfully for Satine’s obviously fraying nerves, Doctor Gihan didn’t get upset. He looked at her arms, asked a few calm questions, offered a pain reliever and, when Satine gracious refused it, advised her to come see him if her arms started to bother her more.

While Satine, again, pulled her sleeves down to conceal her arms, Doctor Gihan told her, “There’s nothing to worry about with the bruises, they’ll fade in a few days, but I’d like you to come by my office tomorrow for a chat.”

“Yes, Doctor. Thank you for your time.”

Doctor Gihan looked at Alor Mereel. “She is going to be fine and I will follow up with her the same as I would with any patient. Duchess Kryze -”

“Please,” Satine said. “Call me ‘Satine’.”

“Satine, then. Get some sleep and if you need to talk, about anything, my door is always open for you.” With that, he started for the door, but paused when he came near Alor Mereel. In Mando’a, he said, “If you can’t keep your temper, come walk with me. She is half a breath away from panicking, she doesn’t need someone who is supposed to be her ally tipping her over the edge.”

Alor Mereel nodded, but stayed behind when Doctor Gihan left. Jango stood near the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he waited in silence while Alor Mereel and Satine faced off.

All was quiet and Obi-Wan didn’t need the Force to tell him that Anakin’s anxiety was rising, Satine wanted to bolt, Jango wanted to shoot someone, and Jaster was trying really, really hard not to explode.

“Excuse me,” Obi-Wan said even as Anakin pulled Obi-Wan’s robe around him. If it gave him comfort, then Obi-Wan was happy to share. “Before anyone says anything they are likely to regret, may I say something?”

Alor Mereel benevolently said, “Of course.”

Satine nodded, silently.

“Right.” Obi-Wan sat at the table and let Anakin press against his side. “Satine, is there anything that anyone in this room can say that will make you tell us who hurt you?”

“No.”

“Then this part of the conversation is over.” He gave Alor Mereel an apologetic look. “I know her well enough to know that once her mind is made up, she won’t change it.”

Alor Mereel wasn’t at all happy, but Satine’s expression clearly told that she wouldn’t budge on the subject. He grumbled, “Very well. Sat’ika, I won’t try to force you to speak about it. I have met plenty of people who came to us, wanting to be Mandalorian because they had been mistreated, so I know you will not speak until you are ready. But I’ll be here for you and the very minute you want to talk, I will listen.” He put his hands on Satine’s shoulders. “I will not stand for you, or any child, to be needlessly harmed.”

Satine’s eyes went very wide. “Child?”

He gave a tender, fond smile. “You are a dear girl. I had thought to wait for just the right time to bring this up, but considering how you are being treated, I think a more direct approach might be better. Satine, I would be honored to be your parent.”

Even without the Force, Obi-Wan could see Satine’s upset. She trembled from head-to-foot and stepped away from Alor Mereel. “I - I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”

“About what? Your arms? I think I understand perfectly well. Someone is hurting you and you don’t want anyone to know. I can understand that, even if I don’t like it. However, when I find them, I am going to kill them.”

Jango said, “You can’t.”

“What?” Jaster spun around to gape at him in disbelief. “What do you mean, I can’t kill them? You saw her arms!”

“Yes, but you are trying to get the people to trust you, Mand’alor. That means upholding the law and, right now, the law says that anyone caught committing a crime gets to have a trial. So you can’t kill them until they get a trial.”

Alor Mereel did not seem happy with that, but muttered, “Fine. I’ll kill them after the trial.”

“You can’t do that!” Satine told him. “Even if I came forward and said someone was hurting me, I could be lying. Maybe I hurt myself to get someone in trouble. And what do you mean about you being my parent? Child? I’m not a child? I take care myself and I have done so for many years! I looked after myself on Coruscant with hardly any attention from the nurse droid that had been purchased to keep me alive or the teachers at the boarding school. My own father barely even spoke to me for years at a time. I am well practiced at looking after myself and a few bruises do not change that!”

Before the situation could get any more tense, Obi-Wan sat at the meal table and interrupted with, “I think we may have some cultural differences that are leading to misunderstandings.”

Alor Mereel quickly sat at the table with Obi-Wan. “Like what?”

“Well... you hugged me a moment ago. And you hugged Satine when we arrived on Mandalore. I was told that this was the first time you’d met.”

“Yes. We’d spoken before, but that was our first real meeting.”

Obi-Wan considered how to explain without causing offense. He and Anakin, and now Satine, depended entirely on Alor Mereel’s good will (though that good will was turning out to be something like an endless feather pillow) and insulting him would not improve anyone’s situation. “Is hugging common where you come from? When I was last on Mandalore, I didn’t see it overly much.”

“I was born and raised on Concord Dawn and hugging is the most common way to greet a person.”

“And there lies the trouble. Satine was raised on Coruscant and an adult hugging a young girl he doesn’t know very well is... well... it’s not done. Children are given hugs by their families, but it’s most frequently done with very close friends or people who are romantically involved.”

Alor Mereel’s eyes went wide. “Oh. I’ve offended you both.”

Jango snickered and made no effort at all to hide it.

“I don’t know that I’d go that far. Jedi are not usually too keen on touching strangers because we’re empaths, some stronger than others, and physical touch can be... well... uncomfortable. But I’ve gotten quite used to meeting people from different cultures so I know one must be tolerant of other’s customs. As for Satine, if she is offended, she will make sure you know in no uncertain terms. There are other things that suggest mild misunderstandings. For example - its considered highly offensive to call a Jedi youngling by their first name.”

That made Satine look at Obi-Wan with wide-eyes. “I always call you ‘Obi-Wan’. Have I been rude to you all this time?”

“No. Of course not. You’re my age and I invited you to use my name. But if an adult, who is not a part of the Jedi community, calls a youngling by their first name, it’s more than a little impolite. That’s why I asked you to call me ‘Kenobi’ rather than my first name.”

Alor Mereel looked thoughtful. “I see. So I should refer to Anakin as ‘Skywalker’?”

Obi-Wan cast a glance at Satine and saw that she was calming down without everyone’s attention on her, so he kept talking. “In truth, it would be more proper to call him ‘Future Initiate Skywalker’, but -”

With a bright smile, Anakin said, “It’s okay. I don’t mind if he calls me my name. Most people call me lots of worse things all the time. Like ‘dirt mite’ and ‘grubber’ and ‘heatstroke’ and -”

One day, Obi-Wan might stop worrying about Anakin. That day didn’t appear to be coming anytime soon. “Alright, if that’s what you want, then it’s okay for him to call you by your first name. But, really, it should be your Master who allows an adult to be so informal with you.” Obi-Wan told Jaster, “I wouldn’t suggest calling other Jedi younglings by their first names without express permission from a Master. It wouldn’t go over well. There are a great many differences that we must be considerate of. For example, a minute ago, you called Satine a child.”

“She is a child.”

Obi-Wan blinked and tried to gather his thoughts. He looked at Satine and she looked back, looking just as confused as he felt. He said to Alor Mereel, “She’s nineteen.”

“I know. I did some research about her before I arrived so I’d know who I was working with.”

“If I may ask - what age is a Mandalorian considered an adult?”

“It varies depending on species, but twenty for humans. Of course, children are allowed to take on more adult duties after they've walked their Verd’Goten, but they aren’t really an adult until they reach their age of maturity and, for humans like Satine, that would be twenty.”

Obi-Wan said, “In the Republic a human is considered an adult when they turn eighteen years old and it’s usually when they leave home.” That idea was a little odd to Obi-Wan. He was expected to leave the protection of his Master when he had his braid cut and became a Knight, but there was no set age for that and he had always known that Master Qui-Gon would always be in his life. To just leave at a certain age... but that was the custom of outsiders and they would likely say that the customs of Jedi were just as baffling. There was no profit in passing such judgments.

The Alor had no moral qualms about passing judgment.

Alor Mereel’s eyes went very wide. “Do you mean to say that in the Republic, once a child had passed a certain age they are... exiled from their home and family?!”

“What? No! No, not exiled, it’s just that it’s very common for them to leave. They’ll go somewhere else to get another home and perhaps start another family.”

“That’s disgusting.”

And Obi-Wan really wished he had a more experienced Jedi with him because he was starting to feel entirely out of his depth with the Alor. The utter revulsion on Alor Mereel’s face wasn’t what he’d been expecting at all. Master Qui-Gon would have known what to say.

Alor Mereel continued. “It’s absolutely appalling! Turning away a beloved child just because they reach a randomly picked age limit.” He pointed at Jango, lounging against a wall. “You look at my little Jango. He’s twenty-three and I would never make him leave! In fact, if he wants to have more family,” Alor Mereel raised his voice a little, rather pointedly. “He’s more than welcome to bring home a spouse or a child or multiple children...”

“I’m not ready to be a buir, buir,” Jango replied with the tone of someone who’d been through that conversation more than once.

“And I understand that, I just want you to know I’m ready for grandchildren when you are ready to provide them.” He looked back at Obi-Wan. “And as far as Sat’ika goes, I would adopt her even if she wasn’t a child.”

With her arms held close to her sides, a sure sign that she was feeling vulnerable and trying not to show it, Satine said, “In the Republic, only children are adopted.”

“This is not the Republic.”

And there really was no argument for that.

Satine’s breath caught. “But I... I didn’t swear the Resol’nare. They said... everyone says it happens when you’re thirteen and I missed it so... so I’m not a real Mandalorian. I can’t ever be a Mandalorian.”

“Oh, ad. Whoever told you that... they lied.” Alor Mereel shook his head when he said, “There is no age limit on becoming a Mandalorian. A great many adults have come to us and chosen to swear the Resol’nare. It’s true that most who are born into the Mandalorian way of life swear the Resol’nare at a set age - thirteen for humans and an equivalent age of maturity for other species - but it can be done at any time.” He chuckled. “You won’t change my mind. I want you as my ad. You can refuse - I won’t force you to accept - but I am a very patient man and you are worth waiting for.”

Satine looked like she might bolt. With whatever was going on with the person who was hurting her and then this out of the blue offer from Alor Mereel... it was no wonder she was looking a bit wild around the eyes.

“May I offer a suggestion?” Obi-Wan reached out and took Satine’s hand. He gave it a squeeze. “Satine will earnestly think about the adoption offer for a few days. Alor Mereel will swear not to pressure Satine. That will give the two of you a little while to get to know each other. At the end of the agreed upon time, you can talk and see how you both feel about the offer.”

Alor Mereel said, “Yes, a very fair idea. Shall we revisit my offer in five days?”

Satine, still looking troubled, said, “I suppose it sounds reasonable.”

“Excellent. Now, about those bruises,” Alor Mereel kept his voice surprisingly soft, like how one might speak to a frightened stray tooka kit. “You will make sure you report to Doctor Gihan, as you promised, for that little chat, but I also must insist you speak with a psych-medic.”

“I hardly think that’s necessary,” Satine started to say.

Though Jango had been silent up until then, he said, “It is necessary. From what I’ve heard, you never leave The Fortress and if someone is hurting you so badly, they are confident enough that you won’t speak against them, so it must be someone close to you who has regular access to you and some type of authority over you. I doubt it will take long to figure out who it is, but if you’ve been trapped in here with them for the last four years, then you need to speak with a psych-medic.” He put an easy hand on his blaster. “I’ll do some hunting and find out who -”

“Pajamas!” Satine burst out. She spun around and looked at Obi-Wan. “What a terrible hostess I am. Obi-Wan, you and Anakin don’t have any pajamas or even a change of clothes. After everything you’ve been through, you should at least have clean clothes. I’ll just go fetch some things for you - pajamas and socks and you’ll need toothbrushes and soap...” her voice trailed away as she made her way to the door, stumbling and uncommonly clumsy.

“Good idea,” Alor Mereel said. “Jango, you go with her.”

Satine insisted, “I don’t need a babysitter.”

“As you won’t tell me who is hurting you, it would be unpardonable for me to leave you unprotected when your attacker may catch you alone. So, until the danger is gone, I’ll make it a priority to ensure your safety.”

“I do not need to be protected. These,” she motioned to her covered arms. “Were just... just an accident. He didn’t mean it.”

“So you say. But I will ask you respect my decision in this matter. Even if you choose not to accept my adoption offer, I am still your elder and I have your welfare in mind. Also, as you have publicly accepted me as the next Mand’alor, I feel it is only right that I may expect you to show me respect by not questioning my orders.” He leaned back in his chair and gave her such a serious look that even strong-willed Satine held her tongue and waited for him to speak. “If nothing else, think of it from my point of view - how can I live an honest life if I don’t do everything possible to protect an ad who has put herself under my protection?”

It was doubtful that Satine had considered how Alor Mereel would view their relationship when she’d decided to make him the Mand’alor. By endorsing Alor Mereel as the next Mand’alor and putting herself in the place of his assistant, Satine had effectively given Alor Mereel a position of authority over her. Any Mandalorian who knew her age and circumstances would take it as a given that Alor Mereel was responsible for Satine’s safety and well-being. If it became general knowledge that someone was hurting her and Alor Mereel did nothing about it, then he would lose all support from the people. Somehow, Obi-Wan didn’t think Alor Mereel was so much concerned for his reputation as he was for protecting Satine.

With her customary pride, Satine bowed her head to Alor Mereel (a pointed disrespect by not saluting him in the Mandalorian way, but Alor Mereel let it go without a word). “As you wish, Mand’alor.” She marched out of the room with Jango following silently.

The room was quiet. Obi-Wan watched Alor Mereel for any signs of anger because of how Satine had left them, but he was serene and, after a moment, rubbed his eyes, tiredly. “Ah... ade.”

“I’m glad you’re not cross with her.”

“With her? No.” He smiled, rather sadly. “Ad, I am not a young man. I have lived more than twice your lifetime and in my long life I have seen many people who have been mistreated. I am angry - furious! - but if I had yelled or overreacted, it would have done nothing to improve the situation. Right now, she needs peace and stability. One day, she will feel safe enough to tell her secret, but that time is not tonight. We will serve her best by helping her to feel safe, not letting our emotions control us.”

It was, Obi-Wan thought with shock, a surprisingly Jedi attitude.

“I think,” Obi-Wan tried to say as tactfully as possible. “She might have been more than a little surprised by the adoption offer.”

With raised eyebrows, Alor Mereel said, “Surprised? Do you think so? A nice young ad like her should have had so many offers she’d be drowning in them. Well, my good luck that I’m the first to make an offer, then.”

“I must say, I think Anakin has a good idea about her going to school with him. She could use some friends, but she doesn’t go out of The Fortress. She’s determined to do her best to assist you and better knowledge of Mandalore and its’ people would be immensely valuable.”

Alor Mereel laughed, again. “You don’t need to convince me. I don’t know what those advisors of hers were thinking by not sending her when she arrived here years ago. It’s reprehensible that she’s been neglected for so long.”

With a loud, long yawn, Anakin said, “She’s afraid she’ll get people hurt. She thinks bad people will try to hurt her and they’ll hurt other people by accident to do it. Will they?”

“Not while there is a True Mandalorian breathing will an attack on a school be tolerated. I will have you and Sat’ika escorted to and from school and extra guards will be stationed there. I will have some of my trusted people check the school out, but as the schools are filled with children and others who have not been properly trained to fight, they are normally staffed by the best, most experienced warriors our people have to offer. You will both be as safe there as you are here. In fact, the school is only a few minutes walk from The Fortress.” He paused and seemed to think for a moment. “I was going to speak to the two of you tomorrow, but as it's so late and I expect you’ll both be sleeping late in the morning, we should talk now.”

With a deferential, “Yes, Boss Jaster.” Anakin lowered his head, meekly, and waited.

It was likely the tone of voice Alor Mereel had used that had caused Anakin to go meek. It certainly inspired memories in Obi-Wan of his strict teachers at the Temple. In fact, in that moment, he could almost imagine his grandmaster using that tone of voice when Obi-Wan had gotten into some mischief. Obi-Wan sat up as straight as he could and folded his hands on his lap, the very image of a humble padawan, waiting for instructions.

“I have plans for the both of you during your stay and Anakin going to school is only one of them. I had thought to send the both of you to school, but Doctor Gihan thinks that you, Kenobi, might be too stressed, considering your recent ill health, and should rest as much as possible. Once you regain your strength, you may attend school. The both of you will be seeing a psych-medic in the morning.”

Obi-Wan nearly protested. He didn’t need a psych-medic. Anakin could certainly benefit from speaking to a professional, even if they weren’t a Jedi, as his whole life had been little more than one trauma after another. Padme had even said that she’d found Anakin hiding after the battle on Naboo and some of the pilots had told her that Anakin had gone into space - alone! - and fired the fatal shots that had brought down an enemy ship so, of course, he needed help. But Obi-Wan? No. He didn’t need a psych-medic. He wasn’t nearly so poorly off as Anakin and it would be a shame to take up a psych-medic’s valuable time when Obi-Wan should be perfectly able to take care of himself.

Alor Mereel continued, “After you have visited the psych-medic, you will both need supplies while you are here. Sat’ika’s rushing off to get you things is kindly meant, but we’ll make a proper list and find anything you need while you’re here.”

“Could we get a heavy cloak for Anakin?” Obi-Wan asked. “He gets cold very easily.”

A pointy elbow to the ribs made Obi-Wan look at Anakin who hissed, “Don’t ask for stuff. We’ll get in trouble!”

“No.” Alor Mereel looked rather sad. “You’re not going to get in trouble for needing a warm cloak. I’ll see that you get what you need. Tomorrow, I will face the first of my challengers for the title of Mand’alor. Challengers have three days to face me. If I am undefeated after those three days, then I will be formally recognized as Mand’alor in a ceremony that will be recorded and broadcast all throughout the Empire. You will both be allowed to attend, of course. The day after that, will be the first day of the Solstice Festival. It will be a day of relaxing and fun for all Mandalorians. Now, I think it’s quite late, so all good little ade should be sleeping.”

“I just need a few minutes to think, Alor,” Obi-Wan said.

“As I told Anakin and Sat’ika, you may call me ‘Jaster’.”

“Thank you for the honor, sir.”

Jaster stood up and headed for the room they’d been told would be his.

The minute Jaster had closed his door behind him, Aranar came stalking out of the room Anakin and Obi-Wan had been given to use. It gave them a look that Obi-Wan could only call ‘disapproving’. It went to Anakin and began sniffing at him, before it got behind him and started nudging him towards their room.

“What’s it doing?” Anakin asked.

“I think it's upset that you snuck away and now wants you back where it can keep an eye on you. Next time, you should tell it where you’re going and it won’t worry.”

Anakin’s eyes went wide. “Can Aranar understand people?”

“A bit. And right now, it seems to think you should be asleep. You go with it. I’ll be in, shortly.”

“But Sissy Satine said she’s getting us pajamas.” He paused. “What are pajamas?”

“Clothes you wear when you sleep. I’m fairly certain that Satine won’t be coming back tonight. It’s late, so we’ll see her tomorrow.” He smiled at Anakin. “Now, time for you to sleep.”

Anakin, yawning again so wide that Obi-Wan could see he would have to get Anakin to the infirmary to get his teeth cleaned and examined (probably for the first time in Anakin’s life), went off to the room they’d been lent without argument while Aranar followed him, presumably to make sure he went to sleep.

Obi-Wan was left alone, sitting at the meal table. The rooms were quiet. Obi-Wan looked through the door of the room Anakin was in. That room was dark, but just enough light slipped in that Obi-Wan could watch Anakin settling into the sleeping pit and Aranar using its teeth to drag a blanket over to Anakin and cover him with it. He heard Anakin speaking to Aranar, but his voice was so soft that Obi-Wan couldn’t hear what he said. A few minutes passed and Anakin stopped talking. Then he stopped moving. When it was clear that Anakin had fallen back asleep, Obi-Wan’s smile faded away.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes. He let his head dip forward, his chin fell to his chest. Then he put a hand on the tabletop and tried to stand. Every muscle cried out against the movement and he fell back into his seat. He was exhausted. He’d never been so tired in his life. Even in the middle of a war he hadn’t been so tired. He was so unbelievably tired that he wanted to cry.

A warm nose nudged his arm. Obi-Wan blinked his eyes open to find Aranar at his side, watching him. “Oh, dear. I hope I didn’t worry you.” He lazily reached out and stroked Aranar’s broad head. “I know. I have to get up.” Again, he put a hand on the table and pushed. Finally, he managed to stand. His legs felt weak and shaky.

A whine. Aranar tucked its’ shoulder under Obi-Wan’s hand.

“Oh, thank you. What a kind dear you are.”

Together, with Obi-Wan leaning on Aranar and thankful that Aranar was so big that it didn’t appear to notice his weight at all, Obi-Wan managed to get a few feet to the sofa. The idea of going the rest of the distance to the sleeping room he was meant to be sharing with Anakin seemed impossible and even if he made it that far, he would have to get into the sleeping pit and then out of it in the morning. The thought of it was too much. So he stayed on the sofa. Too tired to unlace them correctly, Obi-Wan toed off his boots, then drew his feet up onto the sofa and lay down. He tucked his brown robe around him like a blanket and pillowed his head on his arm.

“If I don’t make it back to the Temple before the Arkon Poisoning kills me, at least Anakin will be taken care of. I’m sure Jaster will take care of him. And if I die, then Jaster will send me home with Master Jinn. No matter what happens, everything will be alright.”

He could almost hear Master Qui-Gon admonishing him to tell someone - anyone - that Arkon Poisoning was, potentially, fatal. That it had to be cured before the patient lost all strength and rejoined the Force. Obi-Wan really didn’t want to worry them. There was nothing they could do. It had taken the Jedi many generations to concoct a cure for Arkon Poisoning, there was no way the Mandalorians, no matter how brilliant their doctors and scientists were, could recreate it in less than two weeks.

“Let them try,” Master Qui-Gon whispered. “It will do no harm to let them try.”

But Obi-Wan closed his eyes and stayed silent. The Jedi would find him. Master Windu was already looking. ‘They’ll find us,’ Obi-Wan thought, certainly. ‘They’ll find us and take us home and there is nothing to worry about. Complaining will only make these good people worry when there’s nothing they can do about it.’

“You’re worth being upset for and they wouldn’t want you to suffer alone,” Master Qui-Gon would surely have said. “You are important. You are deserving. You must start caring for yourself as much as you care for everyone else.”

It was almost as if Obi-Wan could hear his Master’s voice.

Aranar climbed up onto the sofa and its six legs took a moment to find a place to settle, but, eventually, it settled down with its head on Obi-Wan’s chest.

Obi-Wan petted it and was comforted by the warmth that seemed to radiate from it. The room was soothingly dark and the natural heat of Mandalore was giving way to a nice chill. “Whether I get better or I rejoin the Force, everything’s going to be fine,” he said to the darkness. In the privacy of that darkness, he felt safe admitting in a whisper only he could hear, “But I don’t want to die. I’m scared. Master... I’m really scared.”

Aranar started to purr.

Eventually, Obi-Wan fell into a deep, exhausted sleep.

To Be Continued...

Mando’a - The Mandalorian language
Sat'ika - a nickname for Satine - Little Satine
Verd’Goten - coming of age ritual
Resol’nare - an oath a Mandalorian swears to live by

ad- child
ade - children

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Visitors

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Jaster Mereel-

The room Jaster had been given was fine - plain and utilitarian. It was just to his taste as he had no use for ornate decorations or frivolous ‘stuff’ to fill a room simply for the sake of having it. There was the sleeping pit big enough for several adults, which was fortunate, considering Jaster’s height. There was also a desk and it was at that desk that Jaster had sat since leaving Kenobi and Anakin in the main room.

He STILL couldn’t write the speech he was expected to give when he won the challenges that had been issued and took the title of Mand’alor. Shame he didn’t have someone around who was clever with words.

After a short time, Jaster left his room to check on the children. To his surprise, Kenobi was sound asleep on the sofa in the main room with Aranar curled around him. Why Kenobi hadn’t chosen to use the sleeping pit with Anakin was a bit of a mystery, but perhaps that was a Jedi thing. Mandalorian siblings would often share sleeping pits when they were young, but perhaps Kenobi felt he was too grown-up for such things or Jedi simply slept alone. He took a moment to pat Aranar who woke up, looked at him briefly, then lay its’ head down and went back to sleep. Jaster then went to look in on Anakin. He, too, was fast asleep. In the sleeping pit, in the nest of pillows and blankets, Anakin slept with his arms and legs spread wide, as if he’d fallen into the sleeping pit and just fell asleep where he’d landed, with little Kal curled up on his chest.

All was peaceful.

Jaster closed the door of the room Anakin was in and saw no point in waking Kenobi. There were a couple of other sleeping rooms; in the morning he would ask if Kenobi would prefer to use one of those.

Back at his desk, with an unwritten speech in front of him, Jaster reflected on the previous day and the day that was yet to come. He’d made appointments with the Psych-Medics for all three children as well as a meeting with the head instructor at the local school to discuss placing Satine in a class and allowing Anakin to take a few classes until Jaster was forced to give him back to the Jedi.

With his shoulders slumped, Jaster let out a sigh. He really didn’t want to let the boys go. It would be a sad day, because though he knew he would be happy to have them back with their family, he couldn’t quite forget what Anakin had said only a few hours earlier.

“Obi, you gotta think. You don’t have your Force anymore. And no one at your Temple wanted me there ‘cept you ‘n Master Jinn. What if they don’t let us live at the Temple?”

The idea that their people might not take them back... it didn’t seem likely with how devoted Kenobi was to them, but there had been that incident on the Bral where Kenboi had gotten on his knees and begged and he couldn’t understand what they taught their children in the Jedi Temple.

‘Perhaps,’ he thought. ‘That’s the problem. I don’t understand.’

He made a quick note to remind himself to ask the first Jedi he saw - whether it was a rescue party who came to retrieve Kenobi and Anakin or if he escorted them back to their Temple on Coruscant and saw Jedi there - to ask for any information they were willing to share about Jedi. For a reclusive people, it was probable that they wouldn’t want to share anything about themselves, but he grew more and more curious with every moment.

Jaster crossed his arms and stared down at the note he’d written. He added another note:

“Cultural exchange?”

It would be educational and, after a few little comments from Kenobi about how the Jedi were treated by the Republic, perhaps it might be time to consider more friendly relations. The Jedi might be open to learning more about Mandalorian culture, if they were treated so disrespectfully, and it might be nice to have an actual exchange program, to have visitors come to them as well as sending representatives to live among the Jedi for a while.

There was a scratch at the door.

Jaster opened the door of his room and found Aranar, wide awake, and waiting for him. The moment it saw him, it raced to the door of Anakin’s room. It stood at attention, staring at the door with as much steady intensity as it would have at an approaching enemy in a battle. It didn’t move until Jaster got to the door and opened it and then it ran inside and carefully pulled little Kal out of the sleeping pit. Aranar put Kal on its’ back, like any good striil parent would keep its’ pup for safety, but then looked down into the sleeping pit and whined unhappily at Anakin.

The room was shaking. It was subtle - a painting on the wall, a chair in the corner of the room - but everything in the room trembled as Anakin cried in his sleep.

Anakin had curled into a little ball, his knees and elbows drawn up close to his body, and his fists were balled so tightly that his fingers were white. Tears ran freely from his closed eyes and his face was pale. He tossed his head back and forth but he stayed silent, no yelling or shouting despite how obviously disturbing his dreams were.

The glass in the small window cracked.

‘I really need to learn more about Jedi,’ Jaster thought.

Jaster knelt beside the sleeping pit and, without touching Anakin, said, “Anakin? An-ika? Time to wake up. You’re having a nightmare.” Then he raised his voice a little. “It’s alright. You’re safe. Time to wake up.”

Anakin went still. The room stopped shaking. His crying eased away. Slowly, he blinked opened his. “Boss?”

“Hello. Why don’t you sit up for a minute?”

Anakin didn’t sit up, he climbed out of the sleeping pit and sat on its’ edge, sniffling. “Did I wake you up? I’m sorry. So sorry.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for - I was already awake. Do you think you can go back to sleep?”

Anakin shook his head.

“Alright. Then come with me.” He led Anakin out of the sleeping room. They went passed Kenobi, who still slept, to the meal table. Aranar followed close at Anakin’s heels and didn’t seem inclined to leave him at any time. “Let’s sit for a bit.” When Anakin sat at the table, Jaster got him a glass of warm milk. “I think you’ll like this. It’s good to help people get some sleep.”

Anakin slowly sipped his drink and rubbed his bloodshot eyes, unhappily. “Thank you, Boss Jaster.”

“You’re very welcome. Would you like to talk about that dream?”

Anakin shook his head. “No.”

Jaster wouldn’t push. No good would come from it and Anakin had an appointment with the Psych-Medic in a few hours, so hopefully it would be dealt with there. They sat in silence. It had been a long time since Jaster had sat up with Jango because of a nightmare.

He knew very well that the nightmare was, most likely, because Anakin had killed someone. It was sad; Anakin was young for a first kill, even by Mandalorian standards, but it wasn’t uncommon for a child to have killed in order to protect themselves from some dire threat. The Psych-Medics would know how to best deal with it.

Jango had said, “I think Anakin has killed.”

They had all still been on the Bral. Anakin had been sleeping in the blanket nest with Aranar and Kal while the older boy, Obi-Wan, resting from the seizure, slept on the infirmary bed.

Jango went on, “He asked me if I ever stop feeling sick when I kill people. I know it’s not proof of anything, but the way he said it, the look in his eyes, I’d gambol my left boot that he’s had to kill someone.”

At the meal table, Anakin put both hands around the mug of warm milk and stared at it. “I miss my mom.” Anakin pushed the milk away then leaned forward and put his head on the table.

Jaster would move the stars and the moons to save Anakin from such pain, but even he couldn’t give Anakin what he most wanted. “Do you want to talk about her?”

“My mom gives great hugs.” Anakin fell silent as if there was nothing more important he could say about his mother.

“I’m sure your mother misses you, as well. It’s completely natural to have nightmares about being away from your mother, especially if this this the first time you’ve been separated.”

“I didn’t have bad dreams about mom. She wants me to be away from Tatooine so I don’t have to be a slave. I’m gonna make her so proud.”

“I’m sure you will.” He considered what little he knew of Anakin. There was a sickening possibility, considering an offhand comment Anakin had made. “Then were you dreaming about the senator? The one you told me was being creepy to you and your brother?” That was another detail he needed to see to. He really needed to find out if it was just a simple matter of Anakin not liking the senator or if the creepy senator was a threat that needed to be eliminated. “I don’t suppose you know that senator’s name?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t about him. I did something bad and I dreamed about it.” Anakin looked away from Jaster. “In Mandalorian school, are you sure I don’t gotta kill people?”

“Yes. I’m sure. You will learn how to fight and how to defend yourself, but you won’t kill anyone. I promise.”

Anakin nodded. “That’s good. I don’t want Obi to get mad at me.” Anakin gave a long sigh. “If the Jedi won’t let us live with them, can we stay here? I’ll work really hard to be a good Mandalorian.”

“You can absolutely stay here, if that’s what you want.” But, judging from the relieved face he’d seen from Master Windu when he’d caught a glimpse of Anakin during that too brief moment when they’d established a transmission connection, Jaster really didn’t think that was going to be an issue. The Jedi definitely wanted their children back - a strong mark in their favor. “Now, since you don’t think you can sleep, why don’t we do something fun while Kenobi sleeps? Would you like to learn some basic blaster maintenance?”

Anakin’s eyes lit up. “I’m real good with machines! I was building a droid for mom when... when I had to leave her.”

“Well, in that case, maybe I can find some broken blasters for you to play with.” He took Anakin’s hand and led him to the apartment’s modest armory, freshly stocked with Jaster and Jango’s personal weapons and plenty of room for new ones.

As Anakin explored the armory, Jaster considered how badly he would feel if anyone separated him from his children. It was an excellent, admirable notion Kenobi had to use the ship he’d been given as payment to buy Anakin’s mother, but it really shouldn’t be up to a youth to do such a thing. He should be able to keep his gift. All the same, Jaster couldn’t bring himself to ruin all Kenobi’s plans. He would keep his peace about the matter until Anakin’s mother was safely reunited with Anakin and Kenobi. After that... well.

“Boss Jaster?” Anakin asked, pointing up to a rather large, heavy rifle that hung on the wall. It was an elegant looking weapon with a bayonet blade strapped to the barrel. It had been a weapon favored by one of Jaster’s grandmothers. “Can I play with that one?”

“Sure.” He took it from the wall and handed it to Anakin.

Coruscant-
Palpatine-

Senator Palpatine watched in silent satisfaction while the office that was soon to be his, the Chancellor’s office, was decorated. New carpets, new art, new desk... all to his liking. It was a small step, perhaps, but it was also a sign that all was working out according to plan. Soon... very soon... he would legally be declared the official Chancellor of the Republic and, from there, it would only be a few more years of the appropriate words spoken to this person or that before he could assume complete control of everything.

A small flashing light on the computer on his new desk caught his attention.

“Well,” he said loudly enough to get the attention of all the workers in the room. “It’s been a long day. I think it’s time you all went home for the evening. Thank you so much for your help. It’s very much appreciated.” He spent a few minutes telling the workers how well they were doing, how much he respected their skills, and he wished them and their families well. They all left smiling and happy. The minute he was alone, he closed and locked the door of his future office.

He tapped the flashing light on his computer and watched as an image appeared on the screen. It was familiar, the landing area of the Jedi Temple. He’d had concealed security recorders installed months ago at the same time that he’d had recorders installed that observed the main entrance and the two small, lesser-known side exits of the Jedi Temple.

There were four ships landing. They were small and nondescript, the type that might have belonged to any mildly successful business or moderately well-off family. None of the ships had any ID that raised any alarms, just standard factory numbers.

Palpatine turned his head and looked out the office window. He could see the ships landing. One at a time, they set down on the Jedi’s small landing pad. He turned back to the computer and focused the image to get a closer look at what was happening. There were two Temple Guards, both wearing identical, pale robes and metal masks that completely concealed their faces. They were armed with lightsaber pikes and stood as if frozen in place, on either side of the Temple’s entrance, just as other Temple Guards stood at all entrances to the Temple. Even when the four ships opened their ramps and an occupant emerged from each ship, neither Temple Guard moved.

The four newcomers were unknown. They didn’t wear the robes of the Jedi and he had never seen them. That he didn’t recognize their faces was not really surprising, there were several thousand Jedi, some living in the Temple while others were spread out around the galaxy. The four strangers met together, exchanged a few words, then started walking to the Temple’s door. They were allowed to enter without even a single question from the Temple Guards and that, more than anything, made Palpatine’s eyes narrow with suspicion.

Temple Guards were known - to the people of Coruscant, at least - to be feared far more than the peace-loving Jedi, but there was little known about them. Even Palpatine had found precious little information. He couldn’t find a single name for even one of them. Logically, they were most likely Jedi, but he hadn’t been able to confirm that. They were fearsome, but unless one lived on Coruscant and actually went to the Jedi Temple, it was unlikely that one had even heard of the Temple Guards. No one entered the Jedi Temple without being confronted and questioned by the Temple Guards. It was not unheard of to have Temple Guards kill people who thought they could simply walk in. Despite that, the newcomers DID simply walked in.

Once the newcomers had gone into the Jedi Temple, Palpatine leaned back in his seat and thought. Most likely, the four newcomers were Jedi. Jedi were known to set aside their robes in order to complete a mission, after all. It was likely that they were Jedi returning to the Temple after their missions had ended. But to have four returning all at once did seem a bit odd.

He sat in his office for a few minutes, thinking. He leaned forward and tapped a button on his computer to cancel and reschedule his appointments, then left. It took only moments to reach the Jedi Temple and when he did, the Temple Guards, as he’d expected, stopped him at the door.

The two Temple Guards shifted their pikes, not in a threatening manner, but more of a warning.

As politely as anyone could ask for, Palpatine said, “I would like to speak with Master Yoda.”

They were silent, then one stood aside. The Temple door opened behind them and a Jedi, someone Palpatine neither knew nor cared about, emerged. “Senator,” she said. “Please follow me. Grandmaster Yoda has been informed of your visit and is waiting in the Council Chambers.”

The walk through the Temple was silent. They rarely encountered anyone as Palpatine was led through the Temple at the Jedi’s pace. He didn’t hurry her, but kept his mind still and at ease. When they arrived at the Council Chambers, the Jedi let him in, bowed to the room, then left, closing the door behind her.

Master Yoda was in the Council Chambers, standing in the center of the room, along with the four strangers, all wearing dull gray tunics belted at the waist with a simple rope. Master Yoda stood with both hands on his walking stick. “Senator Palpatine. This is an unexpected visit.”

“Well, considering the recent issues with your communication systems, I thought I might stop by. I was curious, you see. Not a good excuse to disturb your evening, but I’m afraid I let that curiosity get the better of me and I did want to know that your communication problem was nothing to worry about. If you need help with it, I hope you know you only have to ask.” Of course he knew it had been done deliberately, but there would be no profit in arguing such a petty slight.

“The senate’s generosity is well known to the Jedi.”

“I was informed,” Palpatine said. “That you’ve just received four ships at the Temple. I had hoped to hear good news about the missing children. Is it possible that they’ve been found?”

Master Yoda slowly shook his head. “I am grieved to report that they have not been recovered. Your consideration of them has been noted.” He motioned to the four people standing behind him. Firstly, he indicated a Wookie with long braids that had been decorated with metal beads. “This is Corpsman Ferlonna of the Medicorp.” He gestured next to a young human man who was so exceedingly unremarkable that he was sure to be forgotten. “This is Corpsman Pallo of Exploracorp.” Next there was a person who seemed to be an ugly mixture of several different species. “Corpsman Sal of Educorp.” The final person Yoda introduced was a human woman who did not stand. Instead, she sat on the arm of one of the Council Members seats. She was an older woman with steal gray hair and lines around her mouth and eyes and she stared at Palpatine as if she wanted to hurt him. “This is Corpsman Stara of the Agricorps.”

Palpatine smiled for them all, holding his hands together in front of him. “It’s a pleasure to meet all of you. Will you be on Coruscant long?”

Corpsman Sal, that ugly mix, spoke up with a voice was that was entirely too strong, too confidant. “We are here to celebrate a Jedi holiday. It isn’t often that we are all able to return to see old friends we grew up with. We’ve been estranged for far too long.”

“I was unaware that Jedi observed holidays. May I ask more?”

“We are here for the Day of Service, a day in which we go out into the community to be of service to those who need us. Perhaps you would care to serve with us?” She raised her chin a little. “I would be pleased to have you serve the day at my side. I plan to go to the Undercity to bring educational materials to the people who are unable to afford schooling for themselves and their children. If that does not appeal to you, then Corpsman Strata,” she nodded at the angry, gray-haired woman. “Is going to bring food to the less fortunate of Coruscant and Corpsman Ferlonna is going into one of the free clinics to help with their terrible workload. I assure you - we are all willing to take you with us into the Undercity.”

To go into that filth? To the unwashed masses that were little more than scavenging animals? No. Still, he smiled. “It is a welcoming offer and while I applaud your generosity to those who need it most on our dear Coruscant, I’m afraid I have much work to do.”

“Yes. Grandmaster Yoda has informed us of your new title. It must have been unexpected.”

Unexpected? It was almost enough to make Palpatine laugh. It had all been planned years in advance. So many small, discrete steps taken had led to this moment and many of those steps had been taken by others well before he’d been born. But there were more steps to be taken before the plans were fully realized. Years worth of steps before the end goal was reached. He made himself as humble as possible when he said, “Unexpected or not, I live only to serve the Republic.”

“Indeed.” Corpsman Sal neither smiled nor frowned, but held Palpatine’s gaze steadily.

There was nothing in the ugly mix that he could read as troublesome to his plans. She was calm and honest. There was no deception in her. “Forgive me for asking,” he said. “But may I ask what relationship the Corpsmen have with the Jedi Order? I’m afraid I’m not terribly familiar with either one. I have been led to believe that the Corps was staffed by those had, forgive me if I must be blunt, failed to earn a place among the Jedi. Is this true?”

It was the Wookie - dreadful thing, no more a person than a tooka - who spoke and, when she did, she spoke with the rough, guttural, growling sort of way that all Wookies did when they spoke Basic rather than their own language. “All of us grew up in this Temple. That is true.”

He had expected, almost hoped to find, some bitterness in that. It was well known that the Jedi Masters only chose the best of their younglings to be trained as real Jedi while the rest, those not quite smart enough or fast enough or good enough were relegated to the various branches of the Corps. It was a pale ending for those who had surely dreamed of a future filled with lightsabers and the respect they would be given by wearing the brown robes of a Jedi, but they at least had food and shelter and a purpose for otherwise failed lives.

Not one of them, and he cast his mind subtly around the room, were a threat to him or his plans. There wasn’t one that was Force Sensitive enough to last even a few minutes in a battle against him. He didn’t even sense any turbulent emotions from them. Even the angry woman, Corpsman Stara, was calm.

“I will leave you, now. I do hope you’ll forgive this imposition. I hadn’t meant to intrude on this reunion. Have a good evening.”

***

For a long while after returning to his apartment, Palpatine sat and thought. Yoda was hiding something. He wasn’t entirely sure what or why, or why he believed the visitors had anything to do with it, but he knew deception. Whatever Yoda was playing it, it wasn’t precisely a lie, but deception all the same.

That deception had started when, earlier, Yoda had pretended to temporarily lose his mind before he had abruptly disconnected the transmission after refusing to allow Palpatine to socialize with Kenboi and Skywalker. That hadn’t been entirely unexpected, if displeasing. He had little doubt he could either force the Jedi Council’s hand in allowing him to have those boys or he could merely persuade Kenobi that there was no harm in a little socializing and where Kenobi went, Skywalker was sure to follow. Kenobi seemed open and willing to believe in the goodness of others, he would be easy to control.

No matter what Yoda had planned, Palpatine was sure he could find some way around it. No matter what, he would have those boys at his side. The power that radiated from Skywalker was so tempting that it almost had Palpatine drooling at the possibilities he presented, and Kenobi’s unexpected killing of Maul hinted strongly at skill that lay hiding under the surface of a modest youth. Palpatine knew perfectly well how skilled Maul had been and he hadn’t once guessed that young Kenobi would have had any chance of standing against him. If Kenobi managed to survive his exposure to Arkon Waves and if Skywalker mustered the control needed to wield the Force, he would have them.

“And not only them.” Palpatine activated his personal communicator and, making sure that all security measures were activated to prevent any surveillance, he input the private communication code he had long since memorized. There was one other person who had potential to be extremely useful to Palpatine’s plans. One other person who had been damaged by the death of Qui-Gon Jinn.

A few moments passed before the transmission was accepted and, above the communicator on his desk, the blue-tone image of the receiver appeared.

“Senator.”

As often as Palpatine liked to congratulate himself on how well-thought out his plans were, he was entirely surprised to see Mace Windu’s face projected above his communicator. “Master Windu? What a surprise. I was attempting to contact Master Dooku.”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: Restraint

Edge of the Republic Territory-
Master Dooku-

In the depths of space, they waited. There was little to do but wait. Dooku sat at a little table in the common room of their ship while Plo sat on his right and Mace sat on his left. On the table was a list of their supplies - including rations for both Dooku and Mace as well as rations designed for Plo’s people - and the small stack of credits Mace had brought with them. The three men stared at their supplies in silence for a while.

“This is not encouraging,” Dooku said, at last.

“Life support is at 100%,” Mace stared at the table. “We have plenty of rations to last two weeks, if nothing goes wrong.”

“Something will go wrong.” Dooku wasn’t a pessimist. He was a realist. “Something always goes wrong.” But it couldn’t go wrong. Not this time. Not with two young lives at risk. A deep, selfish part of him whispered that it couldn’t go wrong when he needed to bring Qui-Gon home, but he pushed that thought as far away as he could. Qui-Gon was dead. His body no longer mattered and if he could speak for himself, he would, without a doubt, tell Dooku that getting everyone else home safely was the ONLY thing that mattered.

Plo leaned over the table. “Young Skywalker looked well, for those few moments we saw him. He didn’t appear to be injured or frightened. I think we may safely hope that they are not in the hands of Death Watch or anyone else who would hurt them.”

Death Watch were terrorists, cold murderers. “They are not with Death Watch. Death Watch would have killed them the minute they saw Obi-Wan’s braid. Any other threat would have sold them.” He tried not to think too much on the fact that they hadn’t actually seen Obi-Wan when they’d seen Anakin. When the Solstice Storm was over, they would be able to find Anakin by backtracking the signal that had reached them before, but if Obi-Wan wasn’t with him, then it might be impossible to find him. If someone had realized that Obi-Wan was a Jedi and he’d been deemed to be too dangerous or too valuable to keep they might have sold him, but kept Anakin. Then... with the Arkon Poisoning...

A warm brush of some gentle mix of comfort, safety, and hope from both Plo and Mace brushed against Dooku and he lightly pushed back with acknowledgment and gratitude. There was no reason to give into despair, no point in it. He was a Jedi Master and he would behave as such because he knew very well that he would serve the younglings better with a clear mind than one filled with anger and grief and worry.

A moment later, the ship’s communicator indicated an incoming message. Mace went back to the cockpit and looked at the communicator. “We have another message from The Temple. Again, it’s a recording.”

The image of Master Yoda appeared and the three of them crowded around. Master Yoda said, “We are sending this message to wish you well for the coming celebration of the Day of Service. We are all sorry that you won’t be here with us to enjoy the holiday and, this year, to welcome home some of our far-flung family.” Master Yoda stepped aside and the recorder moved a bit to show four people that Dooku had not seen in a great long while.

The four Chief Corpsmen - Ferloona, Pallo, Sal, and Stara waved at the recorder.

It was Sal, the far more chatty of the group, who said, “It seems like we’ve missed you this year, but never fear, we’re sure to meet soon.” She said it casually, but something about her words made Dooku lean a little closer to the transmitter. “Grand Master Yoda has said you have a mission to complete, but remember - you’re not alone. Not even where you are. We’re with you.”

The transmission ended.

“Master Yoda moved quickly,” Dooku said, softly. “It’s been only hours and he has the Chiefs in the Temple. I wonder if they got your message first, Mace, or Master Yoda’s. Good of him to let us know they’d arrived.”

Mace nodded. “They must have been close to Coruscant when they learned what’s been happening. At least we can be assured that there is support at home.”

“We should have all possible support at The Temple,” Dooku said. “There is no reason for all of us to stay here. I can look after my boys. It would be wise for the two of you to return to the Temple. They will need every available Master to help, if the worst comes to pass. I’m sure my Master would appreciate having you back, Mace. Any senator who tries to talk to him would probably appreciate your return, too.”

Plo patted Dooku’s knee, fondly. “That’s very nice of you to suggest, but it’s not going to happen. We’re staying. Master Yoda has everything in hand and it would take an incredibly brave and/or stupid person to try to hurt any youngling under his watch. We should decide what to do about our supplies.” He gestured to the table. “In an ideal scenario, this will be enough to last long enough to get us all back to The Temple, but as you reminded us, Dooku, life rarely works out in an ideal manner. We should have a plan.”

There was no chance, at all, that Dooku would leave the area. They’d gotten one short signal from little Anakin and Dooku was willing to gambol that they might get another one through. He would not leave. “We do have two ships. You two can go to a nearby planet to buy supplies, if need be.”

“That may not be necessary,” Mace said. “If we take shifts with one of us awake while the other two mediate, I believe that the rations and water we have available will last us very easily. We can isolate ourselves in the cockpit and turn off all power - lights, heat, and life support - to the rest of the ship. It will be a tight squeeze, but it can be done. In a deep enough meditation, we will not require so many calories. It’s not ideal, but for the short term, it may work. The credits will be for an emergency. If we are very lucky, we may be able to return them to the Treasury.”

It was a good plan. A deep meditation was nearly as good as hibernation. It was agreed that Mace would take the first watch while Plo and Dooku put themselves into a deep meditation for a few days. They gave Mace their personal communicators, in case anyone tried to contact them, and the very minute that Dooku’s communicator landed in Mace’s hand, it began to let off sharp, quick beeps to let them know that someone was, indeed, trying to contact Dooku.

Mace stepped a few paces away from the table and answered it. Dooku wasn’t at all ashamed to admit that he was not a great fan of new technology for the mere sake of it. He did not have one of the advanced communicators that projected a hologram of the person you were speaking with. Rather, his was the older type - as most all of the communicators owned by the Order were - where it had a small screen to show a simple, two-dimensional image the person you were speaking with. It worked perfectly well and Dooku saw no need for the new devices, even if the Temple had been able to afford them.

Mace tapped the button to establish a connection with whoever was transmitting the message.

Dislike.

Distrust.

Suspicion.

Mace’s feelings, normally so well controlled, bled into the Force. It lasted only a moment, but Dooku didn’t at all believe that it was accidental. Mace was entirely too competent, too practiced to let his shields slip by accident. He had wanted Dooku and Plo to know something was wrong and they both picked up on the hint and moved close enough to listen, but stayed far enough away not to be seen by the person who’d contacted them.

Mace’s voice was amazingly cold when he said, “Senator.”

“Master Windu? What a surprise. I was attempting to contact Master Dooku.”

At the sound of that voice, so soft and humble, Dooku’s serenity evaporated into nothing. Still, he didn’t move. He clasped his hands tightly together and concentrated on breathing even as he listed to the conversation.

Mace said, “Master Dooku is resting. He’s had a sever shock and we must be sure that he is well taken care of.”

Dooku bristled. He most certainly did NOT need to be taken care of.

“If you would like to speak with him, I’ll be sure to give him a message as soon as he’s got a minute to spare.”

Senator Palpatine said, “I’m terribly sorry to hear he isn’t feeling well. I wanted to pass on condolences for Master Jinn. I’d heard they were close.”

The senator spoke for only a few moments, all empty words and pointless flattery, and when Mace disconnected the transmission, he asked Dooku, “How long have you known Senator Palpatine?”

“Too long. Far too long.” Dooku was completely in control of himself. Absolutely in control and, if he screamed in rage behind the walls of his mind before releasing the pointless emotion into the Force, then it was an entirely controlled reaction. “He dares to speak as if we are friends? After what he has done and is trying to do with Obi-Wan and Anakin?”

“How long have you known him?” Plo asked. “I didn’t think you had many friends outside the Order.”

“You are kind. We both know I don’t have many friends, at all. And he is not my friend. We met at a museum, perhaps five years ago. He was polite and well-educated. We seemed to share many opinions. Over time, we kept running into each other and talking. He always seemed to say exactly what I wanted to hear in every situation.” Dooku scowled. “He would ask about the Order, saying that he was merely curious and wanted to learn more. I never would have guessed he would become a threat.”

“Do you have any idea why he would try to contact you at this time?” Mace was as blunt as ever.

“No. Unless he has some strange idea that I value his friendship more than my grandpadawans and that he might convince me to help him.”

Plo thoughtfully said, “Perhaps he wants your help with the Order, in general. He will be Chancellor soon and having a Jedi ally will nothing but help him when he deals with us. It could be all chance, he may not even know there is a connection between you and Obi-Wan and Anakin.”

Dooku asked, “Why was he chosen to be the next Chancellor?”

“It was an uncontested vote. Queen Amidala of Naboo nominated him.”

Dooku scowled. “The entire Senate took the advice of a half-grown girl not even old enough to be legally employed on the majority of the Republic planets? No debates? No campaigning? Every single senator just agreed that it would be a good idea to have someone who is not a member of the Senate effectively choose the next Chancellor? It has been years since my Republic Civics Lessons, but I do not believe that is how the Senate usually works.”

Mace didn’t even flinch. “It’s not. And yet... here we are. There was nothing illegal about it. All the young queen did was make a suggestion. No one forced the senators to vote for him. It may not be illegal, but I still find it troubling.” Mace stood up, decisively. “None of it matters, anyway. That is the past and it is done. Right now, we need to get the younglings. Then, we will deal with Palpatine.”

They all agreed and set the plan in motion. The ships were almost entirely shut down and the cockpit, where they each chose a chair to sit in, was sealed off. Plo easily went into a deep meditation and Dooku soon followed, his mind going still and comfortable as he let the power of the Force wash over and through him.

As he began to drift in the Force - drifting, flying, floating, warm, cool and HOME - one last conscious thought slipped across his mind.

‘Was it my fault? Did Palpatine notice Obi-Wan because he was trying to associate with me? Did I bring this on Obi-Wan by not seeing Palpatine for what he obviously is?’

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Jango-

After they had left Jaster’s rooms, Jango followed Satine down the hall, only a short distance, until they reached a door and she stopped walking. She turned to look at Jango. “This is my room. You really don’t have to stay.”

“Just a moment.” Jango motioned for Satine to stay in the hall when he went into her room.

It was a single room, not an apartment of rooms like the one Jaster had been given. There was a sleeping pit in the center of the room, a desk, a few empty shelves on the wall, a wardrobe, a kitchen area, and - of course - an armor rack. The armor rack was sadly empty. Jango took time to inspect the room. He turned on all the sensors in his helmet to look for heat signatures, the slightest noise, and even unusual scents that shouldn’t be in a living area. He looked in the sleeping pit, finding it a bit odd that there was only one blanket, neatly folded and placed in the center of the pit, and a single pillow that had been put on top of that blanket. Normally, the pit would be filled with pillows and blankets, a nest of soft comfort. He looked in the closet, packed full of fussy, Coruscant style clothing, all lace and beads, ribbons and silk. He went to the single door that led into the fresher and checked it thoroughly. He even looked out the small, narrow window to where it looked out at Keldabe and the desert beyond.

“It’s clear,” he told Satine.

She raised an eyebrow. “Of course it is. What were you expecting to find? A sarlac hiding in the fresher?” She slipped by Jango, into the room, then turned and crossed her arms. “You can leave, now. You’ve done your duty. I’ll lock the door and be perfectly safe.”

It was fortunate that Jango, unlike Jaster, had experience traveling. He had actually left the Mandalorian Empire and spent time in the Republic during his work as a bounty hunter, so he flattered himself to be rather well-versed in the customs and culture of those sorts of people. He had not gone to Coruscant often, but he had gone once or twice in search of someone who’d thought to hide in the Undercity where it was often easy to disappeared. Jaster would have insisted on staying in the room with Satine while she slept so as to better guard her, but Jango did not. He gave her a quick nod, then stepped out of the room. When she closed the door, he immediately amplified the audio in his helmet, again, and listened until he heard the tell-tale ‘click’ as the lock was engaged.

In the Republic, it would not be respectable for a man to spend the night in the same room as a girl whom he was not a blood relation of or married to. At the very least, it would have made Satine uneasy and there was no reason to do that. The room was empty, but for her, and there was only one way to get in. So Jango stayed in the hall. There was a small alcove with a convenient ledge he could sit on not far from Satine’s door. He stayed in that alcove for hours, dozing on and off with the alarms set in his helmet to alert him if anyone came by.

Soon, morning arrived.

Jango’s helmet let off a soft buzz to let him know someone was approaching. He heard footsteps long before the man came into view and once he did, striding purposefully down the hall, Jango recognized him. Trion. He had been the man who had interrupted when Jango had first spoken to Satine, the man who’d called Jaster a savage, the one who’d pulled Satine out of the room when Jaster had invited Satine to stay with them for a meal.

Disciplined, Jango remained motionless and watched. For whatever reason, Satine had seemed to hold Trion in some esteem and it was probably not Jango’s place to choose Satine’s associates for her. Even when she finally became his little sister, he seriously doubted she’d allow him any say in the matter. He smiled, fondly. She really was a spit-fire. Not just anyone would defy Jaster like she had. It would be fun to see how fiery she could get if anyone managed to wind her up enough.

Jango kept still and waited and watched. He didn’t even let his hand stray to his blaster. Such restraint! Jaster would be proud.

With a knock on Satine’s door, Trion called out, “It’s me.”

Satine opened her door and let Trion in, but, for whatever reason, she didn’t fully close the door behind her. The door was left standing open, just a few inches, but it was more than enough for Jango to observe. He left the alcove and went to stand at the door.

“Mereel is a danger to you!” Trion insisted.

“It was only a hug. I’ll survive. He’s not going to hurt me.”

Jango silently nodded. No matter how often his father failed to read the atmosphere, he certainly would never raise a hand to someone like Satine. Even if she weren’t a child, she was clearly no threat to anyone.

“My dear, you can’t be careless or naive. Not now, not when that kind of threat is right in your home. There is no reason for a man to go around grabbing a young woman unless he has designs on her.”

Jango frowned at the door.

“What are you talking about?” Satine sound tired. She must have still been sleeping when Trion had knocked on her door. “The only design I can see that he has is making time get a little brawling in between meetings with the treasurer and the city construction committee. I don’t feel the slightest bit threatened by him.”

Again, Jango nodded. It really was amazing how well she could read Jaster’s character in such a short time.

“Oh, Satine.” Trion’s voice was soft, compassionate. “I know you like to see the good in everyone, but you are very inexperienced in the world. Mereel is a man and you... you are a very beautiful woman. Your good nature is a virtue, but there are people who do not deserve your kindness. Please, try to understand. Jaster Mereel is a man who wants power and you are the former leader of this empire. It’s clear to anyone with sense that he’s planning to have his way with you.”

Jango recoiled. “Eww.”

Trion kept speaking. “Mereel is obviously luring you into complacency to have you let down your guard before he attacks. He is a monster and he will do whatever he must in order to solidify his position. There are many people who believe you are the rightful heir to the title of Mand’alor and if Mereel made you his wife, he stands a good chance of getting their support, especially if they believe you went into the arrangement willingly. Don’t look like that. Don’t look shocked. I know you would never agree to it, but he will soon have the power to spread any lie his pleases. He’s entirely uncivilized and can’t be expected to behave in any kind of polite manner. You can’t afford to be your usual silly self in this matter. You must try to think.” There was a quiet malice in his voice. “He’s an animal.”

And that was enough.

Jango might vomit if he had to listen to any more of that poison.

One step into the room showed Jango that Satine stood, still in her night dress and dressing robe, near her desk with Trion only a few steps away from her. Yeah. Jango decided that Trion needed to be thrown out a window.

Rather than immediately drawing his blaster, Jango growled out, “That’s the second time I’ve heard you insult my father. I’ve killed better people than you for far less.”

Satine stepped forward and said, “Jango Fett Mereel of the Clan Mereel, allow me to introduce you to Trion Lubek of Clan Lubek. Trion Lubek, this is Jango Fett Mereel, the son of Alor Jaster Mereel.”

The men both gave barely polite nods to each other.

“Trion,” Satine went on. “Was a good friend of my father’s. He’s been very kind to me and has been instrumental in my learning how to be Mandalorian.”

‘And that,’ Jango thought. ‘Might be the whole problem.’

He had a tremendous urge to be peaceful for Satine’s sake. Despite her outburst at Jaster’s adoption offer, he hoped for a sister and, as far as he was concerned, she needed a big brother. So, he did not throw Trion out the nearest window he could find and felt, once again, very proud of his restraint.

Trion had to ruin Jango’s sense of accomplishment by opening his mouth and speaking. “Yes, I’ve heard of the foundling Mereel took pity on. How fortunate for you that Mereel is soft enough to pretend you’re his real child.”

Jango had never once felt badly about being a foundling, but the way Trion said the word, as if it was something dirty and ‘less than’ nearly made Jango’s restraint vanish and he started thinking that perhaps tossing the little worm out a window might be too kind.

Satine, looking shocked, stared at Trion. “What are you talking about? He IS Alor Mereel’s real child.”

“He’s a foundling and no matter what the traditionists proclaim, modern Mandalorians know very well that the romanticized concept of accepting a foundling as equal in status to a biological child is nothing but drivel meant to guilt people into providing for them so they won’t be a drain on society. It’s also a method of building a clan’s strength by adding warriors to its’ ranks and by telling the foundlings that they are special and loved, they ensure the foundling’s loyalty to the clan.”

“You go too far!” Satine’s eyes narrowed and her hands balled into fists. She stepped slightly in front of Jango and glared at Trion. It struck Jango, very powerfully, that she was trying to protect him from Trion. It was adorable. Jango had the cutest little sister! “Even I know that foundlings are treasured just as dearly as biological children. Bo-Katan is a foundling!”

“Yes, and see how she’s turned out!”

It was clearly the wrong thing to say.

Satine’s eyes narrowed. Her chin raised. If she’d had a blaster in her hand, Trion might have been dead in that moment. She took a step closer to Trion, putting them only inches apart. “I very much hope that you are not thinking to malign my darling little angel of sister.”

Trion tensed and Jango’s hand did go to his blaster. He made no effort to hide it and he saw the minute that Trion knew what danger he was in because Trion stared at the blaster, then stepped back, away from Satine. Then his whole bearing changed so suddenly that it made Jango all the more on edge. Trion smiled at Satine with none of tension he’d had only seconds earlier.

“Forgive me, Satine. I only get angry because I worry for you. You know so little. I only want to take care of you. I want what’s best for you. I have always wanted what’s best for you.”

Jango sneered, but managed to stay quiet.

“I do not require ‘taking care of’, thank you very much. Despite what people say behind my back, I am neither a coward nor weak.”

And that wiped the sneer right off Jango’s face. It had only been hours ago that he had said that Satine wasn’t a ‘real Mandalorian’ because she wouldn’t fight.

Trion looked like he might argue, but ended up calmly saying. “Very well. I will return later and we can talk some more.”

“It will have to be much later,” Satine said, in an almost careless tone. “I have several appointments with Alor Mereel this morning and I will be attending his first challenge this afternoon.”

Trion turned red with poorly concealed anger. If he was going to show his emotions so openly, then he really ought to consider wearing a helmet. “There is no reason for you to lend your presence to - ”

“I think there is. How would it look if I didn’t support the person I named as the next Mand’alor? I know you mean well, but I need to do this. I’m sure this right, I’m sure that he is right for Mandalore. He is the way we will find peace.”

Trion went tense in a way that made Jango grip the handle of his blaster, preparing to shoot. Trion was furious, though Jango wasn’t sure if the cause was the mention of Jaster being Mand’alor or Satine’s defiance. Possibly, it was both. In the end, he left.

Jango watched Trion leave and waited until the door closed behind him before he said to Satine, “Would you be very angry if I threw him out a window?”

“Yes, I would!”

“Are you sure? He’s the kind of person who deserves to be thrown out a window. A very high window with no jet pack.”

Satine rubbed her face with both hands. “I’m sorry he insulted you and Alor Mereel.”

“Why should you apologize? You didn’t insult anyone.”

“I was trying to... never mind. He can’t think less of me after such a first meeting.” Satine rubbed her arms without apparently thinking about it. “We should go. Give me a minute to straighten myself out, if you please.” He left the room so she could dress and, shortly after, they were headed to the quartermaster’s office where they could get supplies. “I promised to get Obi-Wan and Anakin some more clothes and never went back last night.”

“It was a stressful night for you,” Jango offered, still thinking about the adoption offer and the bruises. “I’m sure they’ll understand.”

“They’ll also need something to do,” Satine said, thoughtfully. “Obi-Wan will happily spend time reading, so I’ll take him by the library, later. Anakin might need something to keep him busy so he doesn’t get bored. I have a feeling that he’s the type of child who will get in trouble if he gets bored. In that aspect, he rather reminds me of my little sister.”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 21 - Invisible Violence

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Obi-Wan-

First, Jaster had told them, they would speak with psych medics. After that, they would go to visit the ba’jurir - a local school.

There was a wing of the infirmary dedicated to what the Mandalorians called psych medics. It was there that he had led them after Satine and Jango had arrived earlier that day bearing new clothes for Anakin and Obi-Wan. Satine had arrived already dressed in the one-piece, black undersuit. They were, Jango had told them, worn under armor as well as being a very common form of casual dress.

“It’s also the uniform at the school Jaster would like us to visit today,” Satine had added.

So, dressed all in black, Obi-Wan sat in the office of the psych medic, with his hands folded on his lap and his back straight. He was alone, waiting for the psych medic to arrive and set about mediating in the silence. It was strange. Without the Force, it felt as if he couldn’t quite do it right, like something was missing or less or wrong. Still, he tried. Meditation was a path to clarity and calm and he desperately needed some.

It felt strange to wear the new clothes. Obi-Wan never wore anything but his uniform unless he was working a mission with Master Qui-Gon in which a disguise would be beneficial. The black undersuit he wore was a one-piece outfit that went straight from his feet, right up to his neck. It was warm and felt tough, but wasn’t heavy. The boots he’d been given were leather with hard, but flexible soles. Despite being almost entirely covered, he felt quite undressed without his robe.

“Obi? I like these clothes; they’ve got built in thero-regulators so they’re real warm,” Anakin said. “Boss Jaster said you can’t go to school. Why’d you have to put it on?” He tugged on Obi-Wan’s black sleeve.

“Because when you’re a guest, it’s polite to try to fit in. Mandalorian’s dress like this very often and,” he grinned at Satine. “Satine was nice enough to get all this for us. Wasn’t that sweet?”

Satine had flushed and looked away, no doubt still embarrassed about forgetting to bring the clothes by the previous night, no matter that Obi-Wan had told her not worry. She’d had a very hard evening, after all.

The office door opened and Obi-Wan opened his eyes. The Mandalorian who walked in wore the traditional armor, but also wore a sleeveless surcoat over it with a yissan flower, a common symbol of a healing, embroidered on the collar. “Good day. I’ve been told that you prefer to be called ‘Kenobi’. Is that correct?”

“Yes, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Out of habit, he rose from his chair and bowed his head, politely.

“Likewise. Would you prefer to speak in Basic or Mando’a? Either is fine with me, so chose whichever you are more comfortable with.”

Obi-Wan chose Mando’a, but only because he wanted to be courteous as he was taking up her valuable time.

“I am Doctor Iz and while I understand that you only plan to be on Mandalore for a short time, I hope you’ll feel comfortable speaking with me. These appointments are entirely for your benefit. Forgive me for asking, but I know very little of your people. Do Jedi use psych medics?”

“I suspect that it isn’t quite the same as what you do, but some of our healers are trained to help people with mental traumas.”

“Well, that’s very like what I do.”

Obi-Wan wasn’t convinced. Someone who was not Force sensitive couldn’t touch minds with a suffering person, so how could they help? He kept his peace, seeing no reason to contradict her and possibly offend a complete stranger.

Doctor Iz sat at her desk, opposite of Obi-Wan and began typing at her computer. He couldn’t see what she was typing and she just kept speaking while she typed. “This first appointment is just for us to get to know each other and to see if we can find anything that you may like to work on or to talk about any concerns you may have. Quite a bit of my job is to counsel people who are new to our culture, outsiders who, for whatever reason, have decided they want to join us. Sometimes they are well-suited to our lifestyle and end up serving their verd’goten and swearing the Resol’nare, but other times people find that this isn’t the life they need and decide to leave. As a result, I have learned a great deal about the galaxy outside the Empire, though I have not often left it. I will say that this is the first time that I’ve met a Jedi.”

“I hope I make a good impression.” He made sure to smile. Obi-Wan wasn’t oblivious to the fact that Jaster was worried about him due to a little confusion about something Obi-Wan had said and done before they’d arrived on Mandalore. To think that anyone could imagine he was being mistreated at the Temple was horrifying and he regretted making Jaster think such a thing. He certainly didn’t want anyone else to have any misunderstandings about the Jedi.

“You do.” She began scrolling through something on the computer’s screen. “I’ve been given some basic information from Alor Mereel about you, but feel free to add or correct anything. You prefer to be called ‘Kenobi’. You’re nineteen years old, a minor by the customs of your people, and you’re here with your younger brother, who had suffered in slavery his entire life up until very recently. You assumed guardianship over him when you recently had to watch your parent March Ahead. In the past couple of days you’ve been involved in a war and only barely escaped a pirate attack. At the moment you’re recovering from a severe illness that Doctor Gihan, a highly respected medical professional, feared might kill you.”

Obi-Wan blinked. Goodness... that did sound rather bad when put so bluntly.

“I can see why Alor Mereel worried that you might not be ready for education.” She finally looked up from her computer and met Obi-Wan’s eyes. “How about you tell me how you’re doing?”

“I’m fine.”

There was a long beat of silence.

Doctor Iz folded her hands on her desk. “I’m glad to hear that. You don’t have to tell me anything - not a single thing. If you like, we can sit here in silence for your entire appointment. But if you want to talk about anything that might be troubling you, I am here to listen. For example, would you like to say anything about your parent Marching Ahead?” Doctor Iz spoke with such tranquility, so like a Jedi, that it was like a small taste of home and Obi-Wan was comforted.

He opened his mouth, but, for one of the very few times in his life, he couldn’t find the right words. He stopped, then tried again. Again, he failed. “Forgive me, but I seem to be in a bit of a situation. I don’t have the words to describe his loss.” It was, to be honest, embarrassing. He was a Consular Ambassador in training - words were his tools and weapons. “At the Temple, if I needed to explain to someone how I felt and I didn’t have the words, I could simply lower the shields around my mind and let them experience what I was feeling. Now, I’m not sure how to tell you.”

“There are no right or wrong answer to this sort of question,” Doctor Iz reassured him. “What words come closest to what you want to say?”

“Master Qui-Gon’s rejoining the Force is like... it’s like a broken string.”

Doctor Iz watched him for a moment, as if thinking he would say more, but there was nothing more to say. That really was the most accurate way he could say it.

“Alright. And now that he’s Marching Ahead, where does that leave you?”

He explained to her what he’d already told Anakin and Jaster. Either he would be taken in by another Master or the Council would allow him to take his Trials and he would have his braid cut. It was as simple as that. Everything else was only details. He didn’t bother to tell her the details. He didn’t tell her that he desperately wanted to go to the Room of a Thousand Fountains and swim in the waters or that he wanted to go the Archives and wander in those silent, ancient halls. He didn’t tell her how he knew, without a doubt, that his Great Grandmaster, Yoda, would bring him to his apartment and would feed him hot, thick stew and brickle bark tea. He didn’t say that Grandmaster Dooku would bring out the hidden treasure box he kept full of little mementos of Master Qui-Gon’s youth and he would tell stories of silly things Master Qui-Gon had done as a child.

“Kenobi?” Doctor Iz said, bringing Obi-Wan out of his thoughts. “Is your braid bothering you? You’ve been pulling at it.”

Instantly, Obi-Wan took his hand away from his braid and set his hands in his lap, again. “I didn’t realize I was doing it. It’s not bothering me. Not really. It’s just a little messy.”

“Can you re-braid it?”

Obi-Wan felt a stricken curl of something like sickness in his gut. “No.” Of course he could. It was absolutely acceptable for a Padawan to do their own braid. But Master Qui-Gon had nearly always done it. He’d always taken such care with it.

“I didn’t treat you as well as I should have when you entered my life,” Master Qui-Gon had once said. He’d sat on the couch in their apartment and Obi-Wan had sat on the floor in front of him while Master Qui-Gon had so gently untied Obi-Wan’s braid and then brushed that thin lock of hair. “There are many things I would do differently if I could do them over, but the past is gone.” He set down the hairbrush and began to slowly re-tie Obi-Wan’s braid. “Now... now I will do right by you. Even if it is something small like making sure your braid is tidy every day.”

It was illogical and he should surely be reprimanded for attachment issues, but it just didn’t feel right to fix his own braid. Such nonsense. He would do it. He had to. He couldn’t return to the Temple looking like a neglected youngling, after all. “No, it’s quite alright. I’ll take care of it later.”

She didn’t seem concerned. “Well, as this first session is just to get to know one another, is there anything you’d like to talk about? Questions you have for me?”

“Not really. I don’t mean to seem ungrateful, but I don’t really think I need to be here. I’m pleased to talk with you, but I am nearly ready to be knighted - I can handle my troubles. Besides which, I’m only going to be here for a few more days, just until the Solstice Storm ends. My people will come for me. I’m afraid I’m just wasting your time when you could be taking care of someone who really needs you.”

“Well, it’s my time to waste, so you just let me make that decision, won’t you? And it can’t hurt to have someone to chat with. Who knows? You may find that you do want to talk after you settle in. After all, anything you say to me is confidential. I won’t tell anyone, not even Alor Mereel. And you can ask questions, too, if you wish.”

“That’s very kind of you.” But it wasn’t as if he had any secrets. “I’m really more worried about Anakin and Satine, right now. Anakin has been through some very tough things in his life and I think someone is hurting Satine. In comparison, I’m sure I’m perfectly fine.”

“That’s good. May I ask you a question? Just one and if you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to.”

“Of course.”

“That scar around your neck -”

The black jumpsuit Satine had provided didn’t have a high enough collar to hide the gross thing.

“- looks very similar to ones I’ve often seen on escaped slaves who chose to come to us. Can you talk about it?”

There was no need to. He was perfectly at ease with his past and all that had happened. The nightmares hardly ever made an appearance anymore. So he kept smiling and very determinedly did not rub at the scar like he wanted to. “It’s not important.”

“Would you say that to Anakin?”

“What?”

“If Anakin asked about your scar, would you tell him that injuries left from slavery were ‘not important’?”

Obi-Wan felt his throat seize up. His mouth went dry. No. No, he would never say that to Anakin. “It’s different. However, that does bring up something I wanted to ask about and you may be the ideal person to ask. It’s about Anakin.” Obi-Wan shifted his mind easily away from the difficult topic of his scar. “As he was a slave for many years and had to leave his mother behind, I worry about him. Even if I’m not allowed to be his Master, I think I’ll still worry. We have excellent healers at the Temple, but most younglings are brought the Temple as infants and even if one had been born into slavery, they wouldn’t remember any of it. The Temple does have an extensive Archive with information on many, many subjects, but I believe I will need some very specific information. I need information about how to help someone who has been a slave and suffered terrible abuse. He’s a very good boy, extremely intelligent, but sometimes he says and does things that worry me. Would you be able to direct me about what I should research? Even if you can only give me a few titles of research materiels, there is a very good chance I can find them in the Archive. I just need to know where to start.”

Doctor Iz tapped her finger on the top of her desk. Then she smiled. “Of course. Easily done.” She went to a bookshelf on one wall of her office and pulled out two books - not computers, but paper books. When she returned to her desk, she put both books on the desk in front of Obi-Wan. She pointed at one book. “This one is a general guide to helping survivors of various forms of abuse and neglect.” She pointed to the second book. “And this one is more specific to the traumas people who suffered from slavery deal with.” She kept smiling and said, “You may keep them both - they’re gifts. I hope that you will take the time to read both books thoroughly and understand everything in them.”

“Oh, no worry about that.” He took both books, eagerly. “I’ll do anything to help Anakin.”

“It was my pleasure. As I said - former slaves are not uncommon among our people. Not uncommon at all.” She pulled back the high collar of her shirt and revealed a faded white scar encircling her neck.

A slave collar scar.

If Obi-Wan had been any less trained, he would have gasped or reached for his own scar. As it was, he sat dumbly, both books clutched to his chest like some sort of shield.

Doctor Iz straightened her collar. “Now,” she looked at her vambrace. “It looks like your appointment is over. However, if you ever need to speak or just need a little bit of a refuge, please feel free to come here. Even if I’m with another patient in here, we have safe rooms where you can be alone, if that’s what you need, and I’ll join you there when I’m free.”

Obi-Wan fled her office as quickly as he politely could. In the waiting room, he was alone and sat in one of the chairs. He held onto the books so hard his knuckles went white. After a moment, Satine came out of another office where she’d had her appointment. She was quiet and thoughtful, but seemed calm. Anakin, however...

The door flew open and Anakin, followed closely by Jaster, stormed out of the psych medic’s office. Because of Anakin’s young age, he’d been allowed to have his guardian (Jaster) with him during the appointment to make him more comfortable. Anakin sat roughly on a seat next to Obi-Wan. When the psych medic came out of his office, Anakin wouldn’t even look at him. He turned his head and glared angrily at Obi-Wan’s sleeve.

Concerned, Obi-Wan reached for Anakin. “Anakin? Are you -”

Anakin lashed out, smacking Obi-Wan’s hand and making him jerk away. It hadn’t hurt, Obi-Wan had gotten worse injuries playing with friends at the Temple, but it had surprised him. Going by the wide eyes and gaping mouth on him, it had surprised Anakin, too. He stared at Obi-Wan, then at his own hand. His bottom lip started to wobble and he whispered, “I didn’t mean it.”

“I know.”

Jaster clapped his hands together. “Right then. Let’s get you all over to the ba’jurir and get you enlisted.”

The ba’jurir was a modest sized building just outside the Fortress. It was round with a great dome for a roof and, like the rest of the city of Keldabe, had been built out of massive blocks of stone. There were guards at the door they approached and Obi-Wan was reminded of the Temple Guards who would stop, by any means necessary, any unwanted intruder.

At the ba’jurir, Jaster took charge the moment they were stopped by a woman. She wore full armor, all painted in various shades of green, and she met them at the door of the ba’jurir. Like the rest of the city, there was a lack of commonplace technology that struck Obi-Wan as vastly unsettling. Doors that didn’t slide open, but swung on metal hinges and had to be pushed or pulled to move. It seemed strangely primitive for a people who prided themselves on the most modern weaponry and ships. They had surely been watched as they’d approached because the woman opened the door to meet them well before they reached the building.

Satine straightened her back. Anakin slowed his step until he walked a few paces behind Obi-Wan.

The woman took off her helmet and touched a fist to her chest. “Good day, Alor Mereel.”

“You were expecting us?”

“I have a sister who works in the Fortress as a nurse in the infirmary. She keeps me abreast of goings on.” The woman’s eyes flickered to Satine. Her lips twitched into what might have been a smile. “I guessed I might expect a visit, considering the changes that are beginning.” Then she looked at Obi-Wan and, finally, leaned a little to the side to see Anakin, practically hiding behind Obi-Wan. “And I had also heard you’d brought guests to us. I am Teacher Frewn and I am the head of this school, in command of students and staff. Welcome to you all.”

Anakin gave a little, shy wave.

Jaster touched his fist to his chest, returning her salute, as was polite. “Thank you. I presume you know Duchess Kryze.”

Satine stepped forward. “I have known Teacher Frewn almost since I arrived here. My sister, Bo-Katan, attends this school.” There was shame in her voice that Obi-Wan didn’t like. “She boards here and I come to visit as often as I can.”

Teacher Frewn evenly said, “You are a busy person, Duchess. Bo-Katan knows that.”

“You are kind. We both know she boards here because... well...” Then she straightened her back, again. “I don’t know enough to teach her properly. I don’t know enough about anything. And she’s safer here than she would be if she were with me. If anything happened to her because of a Death Watch attack... I just... it can’t happen. I won’t let anything happen to her.”

Teacher Frewn held the door open a little wider. “Why don’t you all come in and we’ll get down to business?”

They were taken through the halls of the ba’jurir and while they walked, Teacher Frewn pointed out classrooms, supply areas, a mess hall. “We also have a modest barracks where boarders are able to stay. Normally, it is for outsiders who want to join us and must stay here while they learn, but on occasion there are born Mandalorians who take a bunk there.” She introduced a few instructors, each of them bearing scars from old battle wounds, and showed them to the infirmary.

As they walked, Obi-Wan began to realize that he was tiring, again. It was more than a little alarming. Teacher Frewn walked briskly, but it wasn’t at a pace that should have been challenging to Obi-Wan. Yet, he began to breathe harder than normal and had to struggle to keep up with the others. When he started to lag behind, Anakin, hanging onto Obi-Wan’s arm, was his usual extremely helpful self and yelled out,

“Hey! Wait up! Obi’s still sick!”

Everyone stopped, then turned and stared. Three people in their own plain undersuits who had just happened to be passing, stopped to stare. Obi-Wan would deny to the end of his days that he blushed at the attention. “I do beg your pardon. Only a momentary lapse. Nothing to worry about.”

But Satine was having none of it. She took his arm so that Obi-Wan had Anakin on one side and Satine on the other. Jaster shook his head. “Please, tell me when you need a rest. I’m sorry. I should have guessed it was too early for you to be up and about so much. As soon as Jango is done with his chore, I’ll have him fetch you back to our apartment.” He looked at Teacher Frewn. “Kenobi wanted to come along to see where his brother would be attending lessons, but he’s recovering from an illness and won’t be able to attend for at least several days.”

Her stern expression didn’t change, but when she began walking, again, it was at a much slower speed. “An understandable curiosity. I understand that the boys will only be with us for a very short time, Alor Mereel, but that you have taken custody of them during their stay. I may list you as their temporary guardian, then?”

“Yes. And for Satine, as well. At least for the moment.” Despite their agreement not to press the adoption issue, Jaster clearly still had hopes.

Teacher Frewn asked, “And will you be with us long, Duchess Kryze? I have been led to understand you do not approve of my curriculum.”

“If I did not approve,” Satine said from Obi-Wan’s side, still walking with her hand on his elbow. “I would not have requested for my sister to attend. While I have... personal difficulties with many of the lessons, I did investigate this school and the instructors before I sent Bo-Katan here. I believe this school is safe and will teach her what she needs to know.”

“And now you wish to attend?”

Satine’s voice was firm when she said, “I must attend. If you turn me away...”

“No one even mentioned such a thing!” Teacher Frewn spun around suddenly and faced Satine with narrowed eyes. “I do not approve of many rules and laws that came about during your time as head of our people and I certainly do not appreciate how your administration has hamstrung how we operate or how we have been pressured to stop teaching history and martial skills to our students - a change that would fundamentally impairment and endanger our students for the rest of their lives! - but that does not mean I would turn away anyone willing to learn.”

Satine did not back down or cower from Teacher Frewn’s ire. She stood her ground without flinching. “I am willing. And as Alor Mereel will take the title of Mand’alor within the week, I believe you can expect a return to more traditional ways. He is more familiar with them than I am, after all.”

To his credit, and Obi-Wan’s surprise, Jaster did not intervene. He let Teacher Frewn and Satine have their confrontation and appeared perfectly relaxed, though Teacher Frewn wore at least four weapons that Obi-Wan could see and was very clearly physically stronger than Satine. He must have been expecting it and, from his smile, he was extremely pleased by how Satine handled the situation.

The two women regarded one another for a time before Teacher Frewn nodded, sharply. “We have much to discuss. I will need to know your strengths and weakness to determine where to place you in classes.” Her face might have softened a little - though that might have been Obi-Wan’s imagination - when she looked at Anakin. “As you are entirely new to our people, I expect you will be placed initially with rescued foundlings, though if you show aptitude with any particular skill, you may be moved to more advanced classes.”

Obi-Wan said, “I’d like to point out that Anakin is skilled with languages. He is able to speak Basic, Huttese, Toydarian, and Binary. He also has skill with machinery.”

Teacher Frewn gave another sharp nod. “I will keep that in mind.”

Satine said, “I suppose I ought to tell you that I can speak and understand Mando’a.”

Jaster’s eyebrows rose. “I was under the impression that you couldn’t speak Mando’a.”

“That’s because I don’t tell anyone. I find it very useful to understand what people are saying about me when they think I can’t understand. If it’s going to become known that I’m learning the language, then I’ve lost that advantage so there is no point in continuing the subterfuge.”

Jaster looked at Obi-Wan. “You knew, didn’t you?”

“That she can speak Mando’a? Of course. We were on the run for a year and neither of us spoke it in the beginning, so it was important to learn. We had lots of time to practice.”

Teacher Frewn looked thoughtful, and continued on with the small tour until they came to a door that opened up not to another room or hall, but to a great open area with the sky over head. Obi-Wan peered out at the area and saw that the ba’jurir encircled the open area. It was a courtyard and in that massive courtyard there were small group of people of various ages, all dressed in black undersuits, sparing or socializing. Armored people, clearly supervisors, walked amongst them. Here and there were also lessons being conducted.

“You young people,” Teacher Frewn said, looking down her nose at Satine, Anakin, and Obi-Wan. “May stay here and get acquainted with the other students and teachers. I’m sure it will be more entertaining than the paperwork that must be done, now. Stay here and you will be collected when your guardian’s business is completed. If you’ll follow me, Alor Mereel?” They walked away with Jaster’s assurance that he wouldn’t be long.

The three of them had settled on a bench (Obi-Wan knew very well it was to let him rest) and had begun to watch a nearby lesson where an instructor was demonstrating how to use a long-barreled rifle when a loud, sharp cry caught their attention.

“Ori’vod! Ori-vod! Satine!”

They all turned and saw, charging across the courtyard, a small girl racing towards them. The child wore a little suit of armor - obviously training gear - and carried a tiny sword that was only slightly bigger than a large knife. When she drew closer, Obi-Wan saw that she, too, was a red-head. The little girl was tanned and dirty and when she smiled at Satine, she showed off a missing front tooth. She couldn’t have been any older than Anakin.

Satine opened her arms and the little girl ran to her, both of them hugging, tightly. “Hello, Bo. I was hoping I might see you here. Let’s speak in Basic - for my friends. Would you like to meet them?” When Bo nodded, Satine put an arm around her shoulders and turned her to face the group. “Everyone, this is my little sister, Bo-Katan. Bo, this is Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin.” She pointed to each of them as she said their names.

Bo-Katan looked accusingly up at Satine. “You haven’t come to visit for days and days and days! Where were you?”

“Well, I’ve been a little busy.” She went on to tell Bo-Katan about welcoming Jaster to Keldabe and how he was going to be Mand’alor and that she’d had to make sure the government could run smoothly for a few days until he could officially take command.

With wide, awed eyes, Bo-Katan asked, “Are you gonna fight him in a challenge duel? Can I watch?!”

“Bo, do I look like I could fight a trained, experienced warrior?” Satine ruffled Bo-Katan’s short hair.

“But he’s got to fight if he wants to be Mand’alor. It’s the rule!”

“Well, I never actually took the title of Mand’alor. I’ve only ever been Duchess Kryze. So, really, he doesn’t have to fight me. He has to fight the challengers who are coming up against him. But, I’ve decided that since he wants the job so badly and I think he’ll make an admirable Mand’alor, that I’m going to support him. It’ll mean a lot less work for me, a lot more time. Time enough that I could come to school. Would you like that?”

“Yes! Yes! And I’ll help you with lesson and we can fight with each other and everything!” Bo-Katan practically vibrated with excitement. She grabbed Satine’s arm with the hand that wasn’t holding her little sword. “Can - can I come live with you? I’m not scared of Death Watch. Honest.”

“Well... we’ll see. Say, why don’t you tell Anakin what it’s like here? He’s never been to school before.”

After that Satine went back to sit with Obi-Wan while Bo-Katan and Anakin walked a little way off. When the younger children were far enough off that they wouldn’t overhear, Satine asked, “Are you alright? You’re looking a bit pinched around the edges.”

“I’ll be fine. Looks like it’s going to take me longer than I’d hoped to get over this. How about you? Jango didn’t look happy when he dropped you off this morning.”

“He had a conversation with one of my advisors and it didn’t go well. I’m surprised he didn’t come with us. He’s been a real shadow since he saw those ridiculous bruises.”

Personally, Obi-Wan liked that Jango was hanging around to prevent anyone from hurting Satine. “Jaster said he was going to take Master Qui-Gon off the ship. They’re going to house him in the infirmary until the Solstice Storm ends.”

“It does seem more respectful than leaving him in your ship.”

It did and Obi-Wan was grateful, but he felt guilty for not going with Jango. Master Qui-Gon was HIS Master and Obi-Wan should be the one taking care of those things, but he was exhausted walking the short distance from the Fortress to the ba’jurir. To walk all the way to the landing field and back might have been beyond him.

Then a yelp brought their attention back to Bo-Katan and Anakin. In a large cloud of dust billowing up around them from the sandy ground of the courtyard, Bo-Katan and Anakin were wrestling, fists flying as they rolled around on the ground like a couple of feral tookas.

“Bo!” Satine cried out, rushing to separate them.

Obi-Wan snagged Anakin by an arm and pulled him backwards until he was no longer able to reach Bo-Katan. Once secure, he turned Anakin around and sighed. “Oh, look at you.” Anakin’s eye was swelling up. They would have to go back and see Doctor Gihan. “What happened?”

Anakin jabbed an accusing finger at Bo-Katan, “She said Jedi are baby-snatchers so I punched her on the nose!”

“They are!” Bo-Katan protested, despite Satine fussing over Bo-Katan’s bloody nose. “Everyone says so!”

“My Obi isn’t a slaver, you - ” Whatever he was going to call Bo-Katan was cut off when Obi-Wan slipped a hand over Anakin’s mouth to stifle him. He was starting to get the idea that sweet little Anakin had the vocabulary of a hardened spacer and no filter on his mouth.

Obi-Wan told Bo-Katan, “The only time a Jedi would take a child from their family without permission would be if that family was trying to hurt the child. Even then, there are procedures.”

Bo-Katan crossed her arms and rolled her eyes at Obi-Wan. “Buir and aliit don’t hurt their ade. That’s dumb.”

“I was taken from my family by the Jedi when my mother tried to kill me.”

That got everyone’s attention. Even nearby people who weren’t at all involved froze in their tracks and stared.

Bo-Katan’s eyes went very wide and a little hint of fear lit up in them.

Obi-Wan felt quite badly for frightening her. He should have known better. As she’d grown up in a culture that put such value on children and family, the idea that a parent would willing try to kill their own child had probably never occurred to Bo-Katan. Trying to soften it, he went on, “I believe they were frightened of me. Younglings who are Force sensitive often make little mistakes like knocking things over without physically touching them when they have a temper tantrum. So, if I frightened my family, they might have been so scared they wanted me to go away.”

Bo-Katan didn’t look at all comforted and Obi-Wan didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t miss the family he’d been born to - he didn’t even remember them - so the knowledge of what they’d done didn’t really cause him any pain.

“And what’s going on here?” Jaster’s deep voice boomed out as he approached them. He looked fondly at Anakin and Bo-Katan, both sweaty and dirty and bearing their war wounds. “Looks like a couple of eager little warriors. Must have been a grand battle.”

Satine introduced her sister and Bo-Katan greeted the future Mand’alor with wonder in her voice. After that they had to be on their way back to the Fortress. Satine said farewell to Bo-Katan and promised to visit shortly, perhaps even the next day. After Bo-Katan went to rejoin her friends, Jaster led Anakin, Satine, and Obi-Wan out of the ba’jurir. About halfway back to the Fortress, Satine took Obi-Wan’s arm. “You never told me about that. About your family.”

“It never really seemed important. The Jedi are my real family.”

They exchanged a smile and Obi-Wan felt, once again, so grateful to have her near. He wondered if he could goad her into another verbal skirmish by the end of the day. That would be fun.

Anakin slipped between the two of them as they walked. He looked up at Satine, curiously. “Are you Obi’s girl? Are you gonna make babies together?”

Obi-Wan and Satine both blushed bright red.

Gamely, Satine managed to keep her voice even when she said, “No. Obi-Wan and I are not a couple.”

That brought a scowl to Anakin’s face. He moved to stand in front of them, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well, why not?!”

Obi-Wan stepped between the two of them. “Now, Anakin, that’s not very polite...”

But Anakin was on a roll and stepped around Obi-Wan. “Obi is smart, the nicest person ever, a great fighter, and he’s really, really pretty! He’s got red hair AND freckles so he’d be worth a lot of money to any pleasure house.”

Obi-Wan squawked, “Anakin! You mustn’t...”

“But it’s true,” Anakin reassured Obi-Wan with large, sincere eyes. “If you were a prostitute, you’d make so much money. Everyone would want to rent you.”

Thankfully for Obi-Wan’s failing dignity, Jaster laughed and gave Anakin a pat on the shoulder. “Enough of that. Come walk with me and I’ll tell you all about how a speeder I was riding in exploded. We’ll leave these two to talk.”

“But,” Anakin complained as he and Jaster moved to walk behind Obi-Wan and Satine. “But everyone should love Obi!”

There was something about Anakin’s innocence that Obi-Wan found absolutely enchanting. And impossible. How a child who’d gone through such a life as Anakin had could be so innocent, so guileless, was a true mystery. But to say such things to Satine! Really, he didn’t know where Anakin got such an idea!

Obi-Wan held out his arm and Satine, still blushing, took it. They walked together for a minute in silence while Obi-Wan waited for her to regain her composure. “He didn’t mean any offense,” Obi-Wan said, after a time. “He’s such a curious little boy.”

“Oh, I’m not offended. He just took me by surprise and -”

There was a massive rip of thunderous noise.

Power.

The world shook and Obi-Wan felt a surge of heat and pressure push at him so suddenly and sharply that he was knocked backwards, clear off his feet. Satine fell with him. It was terrible and awesome - like invisible violence in the air.

People screamed and somewhere a child was crying.

The roaring sound of jet-packs igniting replaced the fearsome rip that had knocked Obi-Wan to the ground and, even as he lay on his back with his ears ringing, he watched a great many Mandalorians soar into the sky.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan held tightly to Satine’s hand as he pushed himself up. He looked around and saw Jaster, who’d also been knocked down, jump nimbly to his feet. He looked quickly around, then ran to the left where he found Anakin on the ground, a crumpled little heap. The shock wave that had knocked Obi-Wan down had thrown Anakin backwards and into the side of a building. Anakin was completely limp when Jaster picked him up.

Someone nearby shouted, “Death Watch! Death Watch attack!”

To Be Continued...

Ba’jurir - educate. A/N: I’m using this word to mean ‘school’ because I couldn’t find anything closer. Sorry if it’s the wrong word.

Aliit - family, clan

Ade - children

Chapter Text

A/N: I made a tiny change to this chapter since posting it the first time. Not a big change, but something that needed to be done for the sake of the next chapter. That's what happens when I write when I'm half asleep, I guess.

A/N: Dear readers, I have been told that a better Mando’a word for ‘school’ would be ‘yaim be bajur’ so I’ll try to use that from now on. Sorry for using the wrong word.

Chapter 22: Guilt

Earlier-
Mandalore-
Herna-

They arrived on Mandalore in the very early morning, just as the sun had begun to rise, casting the vast desert in shades of orange and red. Herna flew her little ship behind her leader’s, trailing behind him. She listened over the communicator when the authorities on Mandalore contacted him and he gave an explanation for their visit. Permission to land was given and they descended to the planet’s surface, into the immense landing field outside Keldabe. There were many others there, hundreds of ships, in fact.

“We are here for the Festival,” Herna’s leader told the guards when they reached the Glass Gates that led into the city.

“You and half the Empire,” the guard said, good naturedly. “Where do you hale from?”

“Concordia.”

“A rough place, these days. Go ahead in, but if you cause trouble you’ll be doing time in the Clink. You need a copy of the laws?”

“I’ve been here before. I won’t cause trouble.”

“Then it’s good to have you. Enjoy the festival. Your image will be recorded when you go into the city so we have record of your armor. Understood?”

“Understood.” The leader looked from one guard to the other. “May I ask your opinion of this new claimant to the title of Mand’alor?”

The guard who hadn’t spoken until then, took off his helmet and smiled. “I came here with Alor Mereel, so I’m probably not the best one for an unbiased opinion, but he’s got my support. I’ve followed him into battle for more than a decade and, good luck willing, I’ll die in battle fighting beside him.”

“I haven’t met him, yet,” the second guard said. “But his people speak very well of him and I suppose that must mean something. Right?”

It was not the most rousing endorsement, but it would do.

Herna didn’t care a wit about the new self-proclaimed Mand’alor other than the fact that he was rumored to have Obi-Wan in his custody.

Herna followed her leader into the city. It had been many, many years since she’d gone to Keldabe and she missed nothing about it. Such busy cities held no appeal at all. But somewhere, in all the noise and activity, was Obi-Wan. He would need her. With his Master dead, he was sure to need her even more than he had before and she was determined that she would find him on Mand’alor. She would not allow him to escape, again.

They walked through the city to the Grand Avenue where the Festival of Stars would be held with the mighty Fortress standing tall above them all. Herna’s leader rented a space (might as well earn a few credits while they were there, after all) and studied it for a time. There were many merchants and crafts people setting up similar stalls all along the Grand Avenue. There were lanterns being hung above the street and bright colored ribbons wrapped around the tall poles of the streetlights. A short distance from where they stood, a band practiced its’ music to the delight of a small handful of ade who had escaped their caretakers.

“A joyful time,” Herna’s leader said, blandly. “We will bring the equipment here and I will build the smithy.” They went back to his ship together to retrieve the first load of his supplies and while he worked on assembling that in the space he’d rented, Herna would make multiple trips back to the ship to retrieve more.

The smithy would house the powerful Forge, a table to keep the leader’s tools on, and a bench. It was nothing compared to what he had built on Concordia, but it would do. When there was no more fetching and carrying to do, Herna was set as guard, standing just outside the smithy to deter anyone stupid enough to invade while her leader worked. After quite a long time, nearly midday, all was done.

“I should like to scout the city,” Herna told her leader. “To see what this place has to offer.”

“The Living Waters are below in the mines.” He adjusted the flame on the forge by turning a wheel on the side that made the fire grow smaller, but turn from red and orange to blue and white. “There is little else to see but city. Go to the growing desert, if you wish to find find peace.”

Herna nodded, a show of obedience that she did not feel, and began to head towards the Fortress. She didn’t intend to ever see her leader, again.

As quietly as a shadow, Herna stayed near the Fortress for a time, waiting and listening. The Fortress was large and Herna drew no attention at all as she took what seemed like an easy stroll around the outside wall of it, just as many others were. There was no sign of Obi-Wan, but she knew he should be there if Jaster Mereel had him. The trick would be finding him when she had no real business being in the Fortress.

She caught snips of information from the conversations of other people she passed - gossip about the newcomers and whether or not they approved of the newly arrived Alor, what help they guessed he might be in the fight against Death Watch, and how his arrival was strangely welcomed by the young Duchess. But no Obi-Wan. She circled the Fortress twice, but didn’t catch sight of him.

Near the wall that surrounded the Fortress, there were many small businesses set up to take advantage of the comings and goings of people and one of those small businesses was a little shop that sold drinks. Herna stopped there and sat at one of the small tables the shop kept outside so its’ patrons could sit while they drank. She didn’t drink, but tried to think of what to do next. She would have to go into the Fortress to look for Obi-Wan. There was no telling how difficult it would be, but she was determined. She would never be able to fight her way in. Sneaking in was a sounder idea. There was a chance she could just walk in. She could tell them she was there to take custody of Obi-Wan and she knew, with absolute certainty, that Obi-Wan would embrace her happily the minute he saw her. He would understand that she was there to take care of him and he would tell Mereel that she was his buir.

Just as her mood began to lighten with the prospect of an easy way to get Obi-Wan, three people sitting at the table just next to her caught her attention.

“I was with the rescue party when we brought those boys onto the Bral and, let me tell you, they are some of the finest ade I have ever seen. Obi-Wan Kenobi, he’s the older one I told you about, he was so ill when we found him that he hardly knew up from down. The younger one, Anakin? Well, he was so worried that I thought he might start crying at any minute. And he threatened all of us, even Alor Mereel, with a blaster when we got onto the little ship he and Kenobi were on. Such a sweet dear. And when Kenobi woke up - my vod is an orderly in the infirmary so he saw it - the only concern he had was for little Anakin’s safety. He looks after his vod’ika with great regard. I may have to rethink my opinion of the Jetiise; the boy learned how to take care of Anakin from his people. I didn’t even think they knew proper childcare!”

One of the other Mandalorian’s said, “Well, I saw the little one when he came into the communication center with Alor Mereel and young Jango very late last night and - oh! Those big blue eyes.” He sighed. “Like a little angel. The poor kid was so disappointed when he couldn’t speak with the other Jetii more.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Well, it’s the storm, of course. Keeps interfering. They got to have about two words together before the storm ruined them for them. From what I hear, the boys will be going back to the Jetiise as soon as the storm passes, but I’m not sure if we’re sending them back with an escort or if the Jetiise will be coming here to retrieve them.”

“Jetti? Coming here. Oh... goodness.”

The second man looked at his friend and snickered. “Don’t you know we’re supposed to be ancient enemies? I’m pretty sure they hate us.”

The first man waved away the concern. “Bah! Who cares about archaic enmity? I’ve heard about what they can do in battle.” He dramatically fanned himself with his hand and feigned a swoon. “Grace, speed, deadly accuracy with those jetti’kad they use? Fight me any day, Jetii!” He laughed “After all, who wouldn’t fancy the idea of a fearsome warrior giving them the fight of their life? Jetii’kad burning, throwing light on their face as they come at me. Just imagine - they’re said to be able to deflect blaster bolts with their jetii’kad!” He sighed in bliss. “A thing of beauty.”

“I saw one once.”

“A jetii’kad?”

“No, a Jetii. A Togruta female, tall and stately, so dignified. Only saw her for a minute, didn’t even get to talk to her, but she wore a jetii’kad on a belt at her waist and was so... so confidant. Ancestors above, I wish I could have seen her arms under that robe. I bet Jetiise have magnificent biceps.”

They both sighed, longingly.

Another person joined them, setting her drink on the table before she sat. “What are we talking about, vode?”

“The two ade Alor Mereel brought with him. Jetii ade, at that. But I heard they lost their buir - they were trying to take him to their home on Coruscant when Alor Mereel found them. It would be a grand thing to add such fine ade to one’s clan.”

“They are fine,” the newest arrival said. “I was on guard duty at the Glass Gates when they arrived. The older boy - Kenobi - said that they’d adopted each other. How splendid is that? Finding themselves alone without buir, they take each other as family. Oh, my heart.”

“How,” one of the men asked, incredulously. “Is Alor Mereel not adopting those foundlings?

Herna froze. Alor Mereel? Adopting Obi-Wan? No. Never. The sickening thought of Mereel training Obi-Wan, teaching him lies about how to be Mandalorian... it disgusted her. Such a person could never be allowed to influence her Obi-Wan.

At the other table, the female verd answered, “The younger one has a buir. I heard it all from my cousin, a nurse who works directly for Doctor Gihan, and she was there when the older boy was so sick.” She leaned forward, as if to convey some terrible secret. “We all thought he might die, he was so weak!”

A chorus of gasps and hushed prayers were muttered.

“If he has a buir, then why aren’t the boys with them?”

“She’s a slave on Tatooine. My cousin heard it right from little Anakin’s mouth. Kenobi’s buir rescued Anakin, but couldn’t get the boy’s buir. But there is light in this darkness - rumor has it that Kenobi is planning to go back to Tatooine to get Anakin’s buir. He is near desperate to reunite them.”

“No!” One of them gasped. “The boy is planning something so ambitious? On his own? Surely, his people won’t allow it.”

“Maybe he’s not planning to ask. My cousin was cleaning the infirmary when she heard Kenobi tell Alor Mereel that he needed his ship because he was going to use it to buy Anakin’s buir’s freedom. He’d trade the whole ship for her.”

“Oh,” the third verd said, looking a bit teary eyed. “She must be a wonderful buir to have her ad going to such lengths, such danger for her sake.”

It was enough to make Herna want to throw up.

“She’s not Kenobi’s buir, but Anakin’s.”

Another wave of the hand. “The boys have adopted each other - Kenobi declared it for all to hear when he arrived. Anakin’s buir is so fortunate - when she gains her freedom, she will learn that she has another ad to call her own. Think how happy she will be! And after losing his own buir, young Kenobi will get a new family to help him in his time of mourning and support him when he speaks his Remembrances for his first buir. I wish them all the best.”

There was agreement all around the table and the subject changed to something that was entirely unimportant.

Obi-Wan, her dear boy, was being pursued by some creature who fancied herself a proper buir? Herna could just imagine what the woman was like - some sour-faced, foul-tempered, controlling snake. She’d just used Obi-wan to get free and then she’d abandon him. Or she’d keep him and use him. He’d never be happy with her, but he was such a good boy that he wanted to make the younger boy happy by fetching the buir. Anakin’s buir was too dangerous. And she must have been a horrible buir - what kind of buir allowed her ad to live in slavery?! She’d never be able to take care of Obi-Wan correctly. She’d end up hurting him. She couldn’t be allowed to even see Obi-Wan!

Herna left the eating area and, without hesitation, or much thought, she went to the landing fields outside Keldabe and there she watched as a group of people unloaded Obi-Wan’s little ship from Mereel’s Bral. She stayed concealed behind another nearby ship and watched in silence. The ship was efficiently unloaded and put next to Mereel’s ship. A moment later, the ship’s ramp lowered and a stasis pod was guided out by a Mandalorian in green armor. That verd spoke with a few people, then started pushing the stasis pod towards Keldabe. The other people left and in only a short time the landing field was empty and all went quiet.

The sun was high, beating down, making the sands burn. It reflected off Obi-Wan’s ship so sharply that it would have been almost impossible to look at it with bare eyes. It made the ship glow, and in comparison, the ships around were dull and faded.

She slipped out of her hiding place and stared at Obi-Wan’s ship as she approached it. Sabotage wouldn’t be enough. Mandalorians were far too competent and would be able to easily fix whatever she did to it. It would have to be more final.

She went onto the nameless little ship and took time to look around. There was nothing personal on the ship, nothing that showed Obi-Wan had planned to spend more than a very short time on it. She looked in the cockpit, first, at the chair where Obi-Wan must have sat to pilot the ship. Then she went to the main room, and then to the small berths. The blankets on one of the berth’s cots was rumpled and she guessed that Obi-Wan must have slept there. She picked up the thin blanket that had been on the cot and held it. It had been Obi-Wan’s. If he’d been as sick as the rumors claimed, then he would have used the blanket to keep warm. For a long while, she held the blanket. It was gray with a subtle green stitching at the hem. She hugged the blanket to her and imagined that she could almost feel Obi-Wan’s body heat still lingering on it. When she left the ship, she took the blanket with her.

The low roar of a ship overhead made Herna look up and saw a mid-sized ship soar over the landing field, heading to Keldabe. A round of shots erupted from the ship, centered on the Glass Gates. The guards there were forced to run for their lives. The ship’s blasts continued and the Glass Gates, where the shots hit, began to glow and turn red the longer those shot struck and after a few seconds, the gates shattered. Verde with jet packs swarmed from the ship and swiftly went into Keldabe through the broken Glass Gates. It was impossible not to see the colors the invaders wore on their armor or the symbol painted on the side of the ship - Death Watch.

Within moments, there was battle in Keldable as other verde rushed to defend against the attack.

Everyone knew that Death Watch was made of many small groups, each one with their own leader, though all answered to their Alor, Vizla. It wasn’t uncommon for one group of Death Watch to be entirely unaware of what another group was doing which was, at times, a great trial for anyone who stood against them because they were unpredictable and quick moving in a way that an organized army couldn’t be. However, it was also an advantage because while one group of Death Watch was a feared and deadly enemy, if every group attacked all at once, they might have succeeded in bringing Keldabe to its’ knees.

Keldable was burning. Thick clouds of black smoke billowed from the hole that had been blasted into the dome. Above the blast hole in the glass dome more smoke collected and would have to be let out before it suffocated the population.

Herna watched it all and it occurred to her, in a flash of inspiration, that the attack was the perfect cover. She looked back at Obi-Wan’s ship, the ship he would use to free the odious, despicable woman who would claim him as her child. That hated fiend. If the ship was gone, Herna reasoned, then Anakin’s buir wouldn’t be rescued and she wouldn’t be a threat to Obi-Wan. So, with Obi-Wan’s blanket still clutched in one hand, she pulled a thermal detonator from a pouch on her supply belt and stalked back to the ship.

On the underside of the ship’s polished hull, she found a suitable place and attached the explosive. She activated her jet pack and flew a good distance away before she detonated the bomb. The ship was blown apart. Given its’ small size, the ship was reduced to scrap. When the dust from the explosion settled, there was nothing standing where the ship had been, just a wide debris field of polished metal.

Obi-Wan was safe from the slave woman.

Elsewhere-
Satine-

She blinked. The sky was blue over head with only a barest shine from the glass dome. Her head was ringing and flashing stars danced in front of her eyes. She’d hit her head. And her elbow. It throbbed horribly. Her hand was tugged and she turned her head to see Obi-Wan, still holding her hand, starting to sit up.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan looked around, his voice as calm as ever, though there was a spark of panic in his eyes. He struggled to his feet and Satine thought - her thoughts seemed strangely distant - that Obi-Wan was still sick. He said he was getting better, he said he was alright. But everyone said he’d been so sick and he seemed strangely tired all the time and... and... and his mother had tried to kill him? That couldn’t be right.

Goodness... her head really hurt.

She stood up with Obi-Wan, but felt rather unsteady on her feet.

A large hand touched her face and Satine jerked away from the touch, afraid that she’d get grabbed. She didn’t like it when people grabbed her. HE always grabbed her and she didn’t like it. It hurt. It wasn’t fair. All other Mandalorian kids got nice parents and hers had sent her away. Never even visited her. It wasn’t fair. She was a Mandalorian kid, too. She wanted a buir. A nice one who wouldn’t send her away and wouldn’t hurt her arms.

“Hold still, ad. Hold still. Just let me see.”

The big hand held her face steady and she blinked a few times before the stars in front of her eyes finally cleared and she realized it was Jaster who was holding her face. Satine took a few deep breaths and her head started to clear. Her fuzzy thoughts cleared and the ringing in her eyes faded away.

With Anakin held securely, half-way thrown over one of Jaster’s shoulders, Jaster looked closely at Satine’s eyes.

“Anakin’s not moving.” Satine watched the still little boy with dread.

Obi-Wan moved to stand behind Jaster where he could see Anakin’s face. “He’s got a lump on his head.”

“He’s not the only one,” Jaster said, frowning when he released Satine’s face. He asked Satine, “How do you feel?”

She took another deep breath and gave herself a little shake. She didn’t feel good, but her thoughts were clear. “I’m fine.”

Jaster carefully gave Anakin to Obi-Wan. “We’re under attack. Can you get back to the Fortress without me?” When Obi-Wan nodded as he took Anakin, Jaster said, “I know you’re tired, but go straight there as fast as you can.”

“Yes, sir.”

They were about to go when a great rush of noise signaled a jet pack just before Jango landed in their midst. “They came from the south,” Jango said the moment he touched ground. “The dome is broken and they’re getting in that way. There’s only one ship with a couple hundred verde.”

There was another explosion and a few blocks of stone fell off the top of a nearby building.

“See them back to the Fortress and take command there,” Jaster told Jango. Without another word or even waiting for a reply, Jaster took flight.

It was all very sensible, entirely the most logical plan they could have. But Satine turned and looked behind to the yaim be bajur where Bo-Katan was. She took two steps towards the yaim be bajur before her hand was caught and she swung around to face Jango. She tugged on her hand, trying to free herself. “I have to get Bo!”

The grip on her hand was tight, anchoring her in place. Jango told her, “Look! Look at it!” He jabbed a finger at the yaim be bajur, to the top of the high wall that surrounded it. Unsurprisingly, there were a great many Mandalorians standing atop of the battlements. “The attack came from the direction of the landing field, nowhere near the yaim be bajur. The only place more secure than the Fortress is a yaim be bajur. Your sister is safer than you are.”

Satine glared at Jango. She hated him in that moment, but if she did go to find Bo-Katan, if they opened the doors of the yaim be bajur for her, then it increased the chances that someone from Death Watch would get in and target not only Bo-Katan, but all the helpless students sheltering behind those walls. Satine turned from the yaim be bajur. “Give me Anakin,” she told Obi-Wan. “You need all your strength to run and he’s small enough for me to carry.”

With understandable reluctance, Obi-Wan obeyed. She had to balance Anakin draped over her shoulder with both of her arms wrapped around his legs to keep him steady. It wasn’t ideal, but Satine wasn’t a large person and it was the best she could do. Obi-Wan wasn’t strong enough to take care of himself and Anakin without help and Jango needed both hands free to defend them.

They ran, even as the sounds of fighting drew closer and, every now and again, Satine felt the ground under her feet rumble with the vibration of some sort of explosion. Jango killed only one person on their way to the Fortress

It didn’t take long to get to the Fortress, only a few minutes, really, and they dashed inside to be met with people rushing here and there. Standing in the great entry hall of the Fortress, Satine panted for breath and suddenly felt weak. Anakin was heavy. She hadn’t realized how heavy until that moment. Jango tried to take Anakin, but Satine tightened her arms. “I’ve got him. Infirmary. We need to get to the infirmary.”

Jango took off his helmet and looked at her so sadly that Satine thought he might cry. “Alright,” he said. “You’ve got him. Let’s get this done.”

The infirmary was in chaos. There were few injured from the Fortress, but a nearby clinic had evacuated its’ patients to the Fortress the moment the attack started and they took up most of the beds. Doctors and nurses ran here and there to do their best for patients. Doctor Gihan, in all his armor, noticed them almost instantly. He wordlessly took Anakin from Satine and lay him out on one of the few empty beds.

“He’s unconscious, but he’ll wake soon.” He put a quick dab of bacta on the lump on Anakin’s head and covered him with a blanket. “Any of you hurt?” He looked at the rest of them.

Obi-Wan stood at Anakin’s bedside and petted Anakin’s hair. “I’m alright. I think Satine knocked her head, too, though.”

Again, Doctor Gihan got a dose of bacta, then found the knot on the back of Satine’s head and rubbed it gently in. Almost immediately, Satine’s head began to feel better - clearer and steadier. “You’ll be fine,” he told Satine. “Sit and rest for a bit. I have to leave to help on the battlefield. I won’t be long.”

Jango saluted Doctor Gihan, then said to Satine, “I have work to do, but we’ll talk when this over.” Again, he got that strangely sad look on his face. He looked at Satine, Obi-Wan, and then at Anakin. “Be safe.” Then he turned and strode out of the infirmary.

It was terrible. The noise and mayhem on the infirmary. Someone started screaming and a nurse quickly gave them a pain killer that sent them into a stupor. A man was brought in missing a leg. Two children, twin girls, huddled together in a corner of the room while one of the doctors tried to get them to speak.

Satine watched it all and she thought about the explosions and fire fights and Bo-Katan being hidden behind stone walls to keep her alive.

Obi-Wan leaned over Anakin’s still body. “Anakin? Ani? Can you hear you hear me? Please, open your eyes. Come on, Ani.”

Satine put a hand to her stomach and started to back away.

The twin girls began to cry.

The man with the missing leg screamed and cursed and tried to stand.

A woman was brought in but put aside. A white blanket was brought to cover her, pulled completely over her face. Dead.

Satine took a few more steps back, then turned and left the infirmary. In the hall, she put her back against the wall just outside the infirmary.

“Satine!”

She looked up sharply and saw Trion striding towards her. “Trion!” Satine forced herself to stand up straight. “What’s going on outside? What news do you have?”

Instead of answering, Trion put his hands on her shoulders and held her, a wild look in his eyes. “You’re safe! I was so worried. I knew it was a mistake to let Mereel take you out of the Fortress. Look! It’s just like I warned you - your enemies will take advantage of any weakness and now look what happened because you left the Fortress!”

Guilt bit deeper into Satine. “But what is going on outside? How far have they gotten into the city?”

“It doesn’t matter. The Fortress will withstand them until they’re driven away.”

It struck Satine hard when she realized that Trion - her head advisor, a person she had trusted her entire life - didn’t care. She twisted out of his grip and stepped away from him. “You... you haven’t even checked, have you? Our people are dying out there!”

“All violence is to be avoided.”

Satine opened her mouth to reply, but... nothing. She had no words. So she turned and started running back to the entrance of the Fortress, leaving Trion well behind.

As she ran, Satine was left alone. People were better occupied with more important things than questioning where she was going. When she arrived at the doors of the Fortress, she stood aside while people streamed in. There were children being herded along by teenagers, who were clearly itching to join the battle, but had been relegated to looking after the youngsters. There were elderly people and it appeared that another clinic had evacuated their sick and wounded. And then she saw a familiar face - one of the Fortress guards.

“Metek!” He was being carried by two verde and seeing him made Satine realize who she hadn’t seen since returning to the Fortress. She went to walk next to him as he was being carried. “Where’s Nole? Metek, where’s your riduur?”

Metek’s head lolled weakly towards her and, with his eyes fluttering as he hovered on the edge of consciousness, he said, “Home. She’s at home.”

Home? Satine stopped walking and Metek was carried on, probably to the infirmary. Satine walked back to the doors of the Fortress and looked out. There were battles in the street and in the air. The noise was terrible. The sound of explosions and the steady, repetitive sound of rapid-fire heavy artillery. And Nole was at home. Alone. Metek could certainly not go to her.

Satine went cold.

Nole was pregnant.

Since the day Satine had arrived on Mandalore, Nole had been Satine’s maid and, as the years had passed, she had grown to trust Nole. She was quiet and efficient and while they weren’t friends - Satine wouldn’t be so presumptuous as to think such a thing - Satine did like her. Nole had always been kind, far kinder than most people had been. Kinder than she’d needed to be. She helped Satine dress if Satine needed to wear one of the more ornate outfits for some function. She would help keep Satine’s rooms tidy and had always been willing to run little errands if Satine needed something done.

Nole was pregnant and alone and she had been kind.

While people kept hurrying into the Fortress, Satine slipped out. She needed to find Nole.

To Be Continued...

Verd - warrior
Verde - warriors
Jetii - Jedi
Jetii’kad - lightsaber
Jetiise - multiple Jedi
Ade - children
Vod - sibling / comrade
Vode - siblings / comrades
Buir - parent
Riduur - spouse

Chapter Text

A/N: Sorry, folks. There will not be a chapter posted next week. You'll see a chapter the week after that, though.

Chapter 23: Not Very Jedi-Like

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Obi-Wan-

Anakin’s face was very still as he slept on the cot in the Fortress’ infirmary and it struck Obi-Wan as very wrong. His face was pale and there was a large, bruised lump on his forehead where he must have hit the building the shockwave of the explosion had thrown him into. Obi-Wan wished more than ever that he could feel the Force. Perhaps he might know if Anakin was in pain or if he was just sleeping. Perhaps he might be able to help Anakin wake because he desperately wanted Anakin to open his eyes.

He turned around and noticed that Satine wasn’t in the infirmary.

He waited a few more minutes, but when she didn’t return he stood up. With a pat to Anakin’s hand, he said, “Excuse me for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”

The infirmary was busy, but the halls of the Fortress were teaming with activity, too. Obi-Wan went straight back to Jaster’s apartment, thinking that Satine might have gone there. The apartment was empty. With his eyes narrowed, Obi-Wan stood in the apartment, thinking. Finally admitting to himself that he had no idea where she would have gone, he looked around the apartment until his eyes fell on the small computer Jaster had left on the meal table.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Obi-Wan sat at the table and began working. It didn’t take long. He had not been top of his class at splicing, but he had done quite well. He maneuvered around several security features on the computer and told it a few lies before he was able to access the video feed from the security recorders placed around the Fortress. His plan was to find when Satine had left the infirmary and then use the recorders to follow her and see where she’d gone. A few more minutes of searching and he found a feed that showed the hall outside the infirmary.

Satine staggered out of the infirmary and put her back against the wall opposite of the infirmary’s door. She stayed there for a time and while Obi-Wan couldn’t see her face, her slumped posture fairly screamed of her exhaustion. Obi-Wan watched as a man, the one Satine had called Trion, ran up to her and started speaking to her. Obi-Wan adjusted the audio and listened when Trion blamed Satine for the attack.

Perhaps he didn’t say it so bluntly, but that was what he’d said.

He watched when Satine ran from Trion.

Obi-Wan was a Jedi. He was at peace with the Universe and he was in complete and total control of his emotions. And he just might hate Trion. He didn’t, of course, because he was a very respectable Jedi Padawan and Jedi do not hate. Hate was very naughty and led to all sorts of unpleasantness. So he didn’t hate Trion. He just thought the man would best serve the Mandalorian Empire by being thrown out of a very high window. He’d make a point to talk to Jango about it at a later time.

Jango would understand.

He used the Fortress’ security network to follow Satine’s progress as she ran through the halls. At the entrance of the Fortress, where the more vulnerable population of Keldabe was rushing in for safety. She spoke to one injured man being carried in, then ran out of the Fortress.

Alone.

She ran out alone without any weapons or armor or anything.

Obi-Wan’s eye twitched. Right... well. He probably should have anticipated something like that. Of course she hadn’t taken weapons, that went without saying, and she was a little touchy on the subject of armor - her father had apparently had plenty of opinions about it which were not in line with traditional Mandalorian society - but going out in the middle of a battlefield without back-up was not a good choice and she wasn’t stupid, so she must have had a reason. He tried to turn up the audio of the few minutes when she’d spoken with the injured man, just before she’d left the Fortress, but the hall had been too noisy and he hadn’t been able to hear anything useful.

Rubbing his chin, thoughtfully, Obi-Wan closed down the computer, then returned to the infirmary where a kind-faced nurse, an older lady with more gray in her hair than brown, promised to look after Anakin until Obi-Wan returned.

“Won’t be long,” Obi-Wan had promised her. “Just need to have a word with someone.”

He had planned to have a word with Jango because while Satine wasn’t overly enthusiastic about the whole ‘adoption’ plan Jaster seemed to have all worked out, it was fairly easy to see that Jango was quickly developing a bit of a protective streak, as was to be expected of a Mandalorian. He found out that Jango was organize the defense of the Fortress from its’ roof and made his way there. Two verde had made an effort to stop him, “Back to the infirmary, ad. Best place for you at the moment.” And “What’s your aliit thinking, letting you wander about with no armor? Off you go. Quick, now.”

Eventually, Obi-Wan had found a more sympathetic verd and made sure to look up at them with wide eyes. “Please, sir. Jango’s up there and I need to know he’s safe. Please, tell me where he is.” He gave his voice a little wobble and wrung his hands together. It worked very nicely.

“Oh, poor kid. Look, you can’t talk to him now. Bit busy. I’ll tell him you’re looking for him, but you can have a look to see he’s alright.” The verd put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and took him to a door and opened it. The door led to a wide, empty surface - the top of the Fortress. Without letting Obi-Wan set even one foot outside the door, the verd pointed up, into the sky, where dozens of verde fought in an amazing aerial battle. “He’s up there. Don’t you worry. This won’t last much longer. Your big brother’s going to be fine.”

Obi-Wan blink, surprised at the assumption that he was Jango’s little brother, but he smiled and thanked the verd and retreated. Perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised. Jango had called him ‘little brother’ when they’d arrived on Mandalore and there had been plenty of people around to hear. If they had started gossiping, then all of Keldabe might have the wrong idea. He’d have to talk to Jango later and warn him that his little joke had gotten misinterpreted by so many people. That way Jango could tell everyone the truth and wouldn’t be embarrassed.

If he did try to bother Jango at that time and told him that Satine had run off, then it would distract him from defending the Fortress and all the people inside. Anakin would be safer if Jango could completely concentrate. Satine, and everyone else in Keldabe, would be safer, in fact.

He went back to Jaster’s apartment and found Jaster’s modest armory. He took a blaster from where it hung on the wall and did a quick check on it. It was in perfect working order, of course. Really, Obi-Wan shouldn’t have it. It was illegal. The Ruusan Reformation was very specific in forbidding the Jedi from using any weapons other than lightsabers. It made Obi-Wan think of a time, several years ago, when he’d been new in his Padawanship... it made him think of Melida/Dann...

Memory-

On the ship headed away from the planet Melida/Dann, Obi-Wan sat silently beside Master Jinn. He was certain he’d lost all rights to call him ‘Master Qui-Gon’ when he’d chosen to stand by the children in the terrible war that had ravaged Melida/Dann for generations rather than to complete the mission they’d been assigned. He sat in the co-pilot’s seat while Master Jinn programmed the hyperdrive. He was hungry. He was so tired. He was filthy. Everything hurt.

The moment their little ship slipped into hyperspace, Obi-Wan guilty pulled from his belt the blaster he’d been using since he’d been entered the war. He held it out to Master Jinn and bowed his head. “I must beg forgiveness. I used this, Master Jinn.”

Master Jinn looked at the blaster, then at Obi-Wan. His face was still as stone. “I see.”

It was against the law. The Ruusan Reformation was very clear on that point and all Jedi initiates learned it - no Jedi was allowed to use any weapon but their lightsaber. “I know it was very wrong of me and I know that this will affect my return to the Temple, but... but...” Obi-Wan choked, desperately trying not to cry. He was far too old to cry. He was thirteen, for goodness sakes!

“Obi-Wan,” Master Jinn said, adjusted a few controls before he turned to face Obi-Wan. “You understand that you are on probation for your choice to stay behind when I returned to the Temple, don’t you?”

“Yes, Master Jinn.”

“And you know that the probationary period is a formality that everyone - initiate, Padawan, Knight, and Master - must go through if they decide to leave the Order then want to return?” When Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open because he had NOT known that, Master Jinn smiled, softly. “It’s a grace period, of sorts. To see that being apart of the Order is really what is best for you. I’m not surprised you didn’t know, this sort of thing doesn’t happen often, but it does happen. You aren’t on probation because anyone is angry with you. This is just how things are done. And, probation or not, you are still my Padawan.”

“Thank you, Master Qui-Gon.” It warmed Obi-Wan’s heart. To still be wanted, welcomed by his Master. “But... this?” He put the blaster on the ship’s console and put his hands on his lap, as if to prove he wouldn’t touch it, again.

“Well,” Master Qui-Gon looked at the blaster, thoughtfully. He picked up it and studied it. “Technically, you weren’t part of the Jedi Order when you used this. And that law in the Ruusan Reformation only applies to Jedi.”

Obi-Wan stared at him. “I... I’m pretty sure that’s not how it’s supposed to work. The spirit of the law...”

“Is unimportant.” Master Qui-Gon put the blaster into one of the deep pockets on the inside of his robe. “If the people who wrote the Ruusan Reformation wanted to add nit-picky little details, they would have written the laws that way. They didn’t and, therefore, you are in the clear.”

Obi-Wan knew, then, what his Master had done. Master Qui-Gon had told him he was no longer a Jedi when he decided to stay to help the children in the war. “You knew I’d need to use a blaster in the war. You renounced me as Jedi so I wouldn’t get in trouble because you thought you might bring me back to the Temple.”

“My dear Padawan, I KNEW I would bring you back to the Temple. You are my student, after all. I certainly wasn’t going to let a war have you. I only regret leaving you there, but what else could I do? Should I have used the Force to control your mind and compel you to do as I ordered? No. I wouldn’t do that to you. Besides, if I didn't think you could survive without me, I wouldn't have even allowed you to go on the mission. As far as the blaster goes, I don’t want you to feel any guilt about protecting yourself or other innocents. I find that I am far more concerned with your life than a law.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t help but grin nervously at such a scandalously audacious statement. “Master, really! That sounds suspiciously like attachment!”

Master Qui-Gon ruffled Obi-Wan’s hair. “Yes. It does, doesn’t it? But, perhaps I’m not a very good Jedi.”

It was well more than a year later, after the long mission on Mandalore had ended, when Obi-Wan, again, sat in a ship’s cockpit next to Master Qui-Gon as they headed back to the Temple. He pulled a blaster out from under his robe. “Master? I’m sorry.”

“Goodness. Is this going to become a habit?” Master Qui-Gon took the blaster and kept smiling.

“I AM sorry. But I couldn’t let anyone know I was a Jedi and I had to protect her... it seemed the best solution. Are you going to tell the Council?” To touch a blaster when he was younger was forgivable, but he was fifteen and nearly a senior Padawan. The same crime surely couldn’t be forgiven twice.

Master Qui-Gon, again, tucked the blaster into one of those very deep pockets on the inside of his robe. “I don’t think that’s necessary. It was a desperate situation, after all.”

The lack of concern - he spoke as if there was nothing to forgive, no crime that needed punishing! - baffled Obi-Wan. “I don’t understand. It’s illegal. How can you just ignore it?”

“Well, first of all, everyone on the Council is very busy. It would be impolite to give them more paperwork to do when I’m certain this is nothing to be worried about. And Grandmaster Yoda does worry. We don’t need him to worry, do we? Besides, it’s only a crime if you get caught. So, we will keep this little matter to ourselves.”

Obi-Wan gaped at him. “That’s not very Jedi-like!”

Master Qui-Gon put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and leaned close to look him in the eye. “The only thing I am concerned about is your wellbeing. So if you need to break a law that hardly anyone even knows about to keep yourself alive, then I will not only allow it, I will load the blaster for you.”

End Memory-

“And Master Qui-Gon wouldn’t lie to me. This is an emergency, so it’s alright.” He took the blaster and tucked it into the waistband of his undersuit. Then, just as he was leaving the room, his eyes fell on a small med-pack kept on a shelf in Jaster’s armory.

Obi-Wan considered the med-pack. How helpful. Jaster was so clever to keep such useful things around. Obi-Wan opened the pack and carefully dug around until he found what he needed - a stim-patch. The self-adhesive chemical patches were very common among Mandalorian verde, useful to give a boost of energy when a battle might be tiring them. There were all sorts of chemical patches designed for the incredible variety of species among the Mandalorians. The ones Obi-Wan found in Jaster’s med-pack were wrapped in an orange wrapper with the Mando’a word for ‘human’ written on one side while the other side listed what the patch was for. As Jaster and Jango were both human, it made sense that it was the only type of chemical patch kept in Jaster’s med-pack.

The terrible exhaustion was starting to creep in around Obi-Wan’s brain, again, but he was a Jedi and he would do what needed to be done. Was it a good idea to use a drug when his health was so poorly? No. Was it a good idea to use such a thing without the supervision of a medical specialist? No. Did Satine need him? Yes.

He took the chemical patch out of its’ protective wrapping and then pulled up his sleeve. He slapped the chemical patch onto his forearm and, almost at once, felt the heavy rush of energy and awareness take hold of him. It was amazing. It wasn’t approved of for Jedi to use enhancing chemicals, and it certainly wasn’t acceptable for Jedi Padawans. Still, he was pretty sure Master Qui-Gon would have said it was acceptable, given the circumstances, and that was good enough for Obi-Wan.

At the door of Jaster’s apartment, Obi-Wan was forced to stop in his tracks when Aranar stepped between him and the door. It really was rather huge for a Striil. It was so big, he could almost ride it. “Excuse me,” Obi-Wan told it. “I really must go.”

It gave him a look that was less than impressed and moved so that its’ entire body blocked the doorway.

“Now, this really won’t do. I have to... say.” He knelt down and put a hand on Aranar’s head. “Do you think you could track Satine?”

In answer, Aranar lay down and took its’ pup off it’s back. It set the pup on the floor and, to Obi-Wan’s surprise, the pup crawled into a pouch on Aranar’s underside. He’d had no idea striil could carry their pups in pouches, but it did seem like a safe place to keep the pup. When the pup was secure, Aranar stood and waited for Obi-Wan to open the door and they took off, together.

In Keldabe-
Satine-

Satine ran from the safety of the Fortress, entirely aware of what she was doing. Absolutely in her right mind. She knew she’d hit her head on the ground when the shockwave had knocked everyone down and she knew she’d been a little confused, but the bacta from Doctor Gihan had been strong and did its’ work well. She was completely and totally in control of herself and, still, she ran from the Fortress.

In the air, she warriors with jetpacks flying, they were far enough away with the sun behind them that they were nothing more than shadows and she couldn’t tell which one was friend or foe. The fighting wasn’t only in the air, but in the streets there were small battles here and there, some with blasters or swords or even their bare hands, but the fighting was everywhere. The great Main Avenue - a huge wide street that ran from one side of Keldabe’s glass dome to the other, entirely bisecting the city - was covered in debris from ruined buildings. The street itself was, in many places, broken with great chunks of the road having been blown into pieces.

She could feel her heart racing. Actually feel it as it slammed rapidly against her rips. Her lungs hurt from running. At one point, she lost her balance and nearly fell. She’d caught herself, but had slammed her hip against an overturned swoop. She took advantage of the swoop and paused, crouching down behind it to catch her breath. She could see the Fortress as it rose above the city line and she knew that in the air above her, Jaster was fighting to stop the destruction.

When she could breathe easier, Satine started running, but she soon turned a corner and saw a large group of warriors battling. She back tracked and found a building to shelter in. She skidded through the door of the building and found herself in an empty confectionery shop. There were bright colors to appeal to customers and racks of sweet and spicy treats. The owners and customers would have most likely gone to fight. Satine swung around one of the free-standing racks and crouched down, waiting for the nearby fighting to move away. There she stayed, listening. The noise outside faded a bit, but didn’t end. She bit her lip, debating. She couldn’t hide there forever - Nole might need help - but she if she got caught up in the battle, she’d be no help to anyone.

The door opened.

Satine froze, listening.

Heavy footsteps - armored footsteps - slowly walked in, clanking on the tile floor.

Satine rose up on her knees and, though the narrow space between two of the shelves, looked out. The Mandalorian who’d walked into the shop held a gray blanket with green stitching on the hem in one hand. They closed the curtains over the shop’s large front windows, then turned back so Satine could see them. They looked around, though only for a minute, before they pulled off their helmet and Satine saw that it was a woman. She was middle-aged with gray steaks in black hair. Like most Mandalorians who were able to grow hair, she kept her hair cut very short. Her skin was extremely pale.

Slowly, she brought the blanket up to her face. She began to smile, then knelt on the floor. The woman lay the blanket carefully, almost reverently, on the floor. She smoothed it out, then began to fold the blanket this way and that and, finally, rolled it until it was a fair little bundle. She picked up the empty blanket in her arms and cradled it to her chest. “Oh... my boy.”

Satine wanted to get away. There was something very wrong with the stranger. Disturbingly wrong. Her eyes were too wide, too bright.

The woman stroked the blanket, as one might have run their hand gently down a baby’s cheek. She kissed the blanket.

A footstep from outside made the woman freeze. She slammed her helmet back onto her head an instant before the door opened and large Mandalorian walked in.

“Where have you been?” The newcomer asked. He wore black armor with a simple looking, dark blue crescent on his chest being the only hint of color.

“I told you - scouting the city.”

He took a few steps into the shop, walking around the woman. “What is that?” He gestured at the blanket she held.

“It’s mine.” She curled herself protectively around the blanket and her free hand drifted to the blaster at her side. “I found it.”

The newcomer was quiet for a time. “I see. Where did you find it?”

“It’s mine!”

The noise outside faded into nothing and the silence became so deep that Satine feared if she even breathed she would be noticed. She didn’t want the woman to see her.

The newcomer nodded, fractionally. “Perhaps it is time for us to leave. Come.”

The woman got to her feet and followed the newcomer out of the shop. Still, Satine stayed where she was for several minutes until she was certain they wouldn’t return. Letting out a deep breath, she pushed the incident from her mind. It was something that would have to be dealt with at another time. She peeked out the shop’s door and, when she saw that the street was deserted, felt relief run over her.

‘Time to think.’ She told herself. There was, of course, a computer in the shop. She managed to get into it and started her search. ‘Thank you for the splicing lessons, Obi-Wan. You were right - it’s a very useful skill.’ It took only a few minutes to find a city census database and, from there, to find Nole’s home address. With that, she left the shop and started to make her way through the city.

For a few streets, all was quiet. But then more fighting broke out and she was forced to fun.

“Hello, there. Did you get bored? Decided to go for a walk?” Obi-Wan was suddenly at her side, running right next to her. At his side, Aranar trotted in what looked like an easy, enjoyable jog for it rather than the break-neck pace it felt like to Satine.

An explosive dropped from the air nearby and they had to dodge wildly to get away from shrapnel.

Satine yelled, “Go back to the Fortress! You’re still sick!”

“But I always have so much fun when I’m with you!” Obi-Wan shouted over the noise. He was panting for breath. “We should do this more often. We’ll go to a cafe, then take in a show at the theater, and then have a stroll in a war zone! Maybe we’ll get lucky and find a mine field!”

“Didn’t anyone ever tell you that sarcasm is the lowest form of humor?”

“Yes, but it’s my favorite. Why are we out here when there’s a nice, comfy infirmary in the Fortress? Are you trying to get yourself killed?”

“Don’t be ridiculous. I have this completely under control!” Another explosion rocked the ground under their feet and Satine stumbled to her knees. At once, she jumped back to her feet, took a second to help Obi-Wan up, then started running, again.

Eventually they found a speeder that had been knocked onto its side and was propped up by a large piece of rumble. They took shelter under the speeder to catch their breath. Aranar crawled in after them and lay down at Satine’s side. Without thinking too much about it, she started petting it. Her shaking hands got buried in its soft fur and she found it a great comfort to have the striil near.

Obi-wan, gasping for breath in a way that was more than a little alarming to Satine, who had only ever known Obi-Wan to be in peek health with the grace and strength that came from years of practice at the Jedi arts, sat close enough that their arms touched. “I heard what Trion said to you. I watched the security recordings from the hall outside the infirmary. This attack isn’t your fault. You didn’t bring Death Watch here.”

“I know that. Intellectually, I know that. I’m not out here because of a death wish, I promise,” Satine muttered. “It’s just that... this isn’t the first time.”

“What?”

“It’s not the first time. After you and Master Jinn left, the advisors told me that if I left the Fortress, I’d be a target for Death Watch and civilians would get hurt in the crossfire. I didn’t believe them. Death Watch attacked. Three people died.”

“That must be coincidence.”

“Maybe. I tried to go out twice more after that and there were attacks both times. I stopped going outside.” Then, she laughed. “I fooled them, though. Found a hidden door in the Fortress. It’s in the kitchen pantry. Leads to a tunnel underground. There are tunnels under all of Keldable. One goes right to the yaim be bajur so I could visit with Bo, but I never told anyone in the Fortress. If I tell people I’m going out, there are attacks. I think there may be a spy in the Fortress.”

“Did you mention any of this to Jaster?”

Satine nodded and drew her knees up to chest. “I sent him a lot of information long before he arrived and I warned him about my suspicion. He said it was to be expected and that he had someone vetting everyone who lives and works in the Fortress, but it’s a long processes, especially as he wants it done discretely. I only agreed to go to the yaim be bajur today because with Jaster here, I thought Death Watch wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack. I was wrong. Again. On the other hand, Death Watch also attacks when I don’t leave the Fortress, so it’s entirely possible that there isn’t a spy and I just have terrible luck. No matter the reason, all I know is that my maid is alone out there and everyone else is busy defending the city. As I am currently unnecessary, I decided that I am the best one to go.”

Obi-Wan poked her in the ribs. “I’m going to tell Jaster you’re wallowing in self-pity.”

“I am not!”

“And he’s going to smack your wrist for going out in all this without armor or a weapon.”

Satine scowled. “No matter what he thinks, I am NOT a child. I do not need someone looking over my shoulder to be sure I wash my hands before meals or brush my teeth before bedtime.”

“Is it so terrible to think he wants you as part of his family?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I will concede, it’s very hard to dislike someone who, seemingly, wants to ensure my welfare and is kinder than most of the people I’ve known my whole life. However, it feels dreadfully disloyal to my father to even consider wanting such a thing. Jaster Mereel is the antithesis of everything my father was and believed in. Besides, I take care of myself. I have for years, even before I came to Mandalore.” Her mind drifted to the apartment she’d lived in on Coruscant. No boarding dormitory for Satine, her father had insisted on the best. He’d rented her an apartment, filled with every luxury possible and a state-of-the-art nurse droid to care for her. “I survived perfectly well with just me and N1-D1. She was always with me until I turned twelve. Then she broke. I wrote to father to ask for credits to get her repaired, but... well. I really miss her.”

Aranan whined and nuzzled closer to Satine.

“You never told me about her.” There was no judgment in his voice, just a statement.

“And you never told me about your mother and how you came to the Jedi. We’re both allowed to have secrets.” Satine didn’t know if she would ever be a parent, if she would ever earn the title of ‘buir’, but to think of murdering her own child, even if she were afraid, was like a nightmare. It was unimaginable.

“It’s not all that important. It really isn’t. The Jedi are my family. I suppose it’s not so different than how Mandalorians do things. I didn’t have a good parent, so new people took me in. I am very happy with my life.”

There was another crash, but the speeder they were hiding under kept standing.

“There have been Death Watch attacks since I first came here, but it’s never been like this. They’d blow up a speeder or send an undercover soldier in to just start killing random people, but they never dared attack Keldabe in force like this. They were far more likely to go raise terror in the small towns and villages spread out over Mandalore or attack ships coming and going from the planet than to attack Keldabe. So, why do it now when the True Mandalorians have all but taken over? Jaster’s people are everywhere and that wasn’t kept a secret. Long before he arrived here, he and I both worked hard to make sure everyone in the Empire knew that he was taking over and when it was happening. Death Watch must know it’s more dangerous for them, now.”

“I expect that’s the reason for the change.”

Satine nodded, in agreement. “I suppose you’re right. They want Jaster dead before he can fully organized and solidify his power. They know they’re running out of time. Jaster’s strong. He’s experienced, dangerous, and his people are absolutely loyal. He’s far more dangerous to Death Watch than I ever was.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “They need him dead.”

“That can’t happen. Mandalore NEEDS him! Obi-Wan, you need to read his work - The Supercommando Codex. He has such vision.” She grabbed his wrist, as if that might make him understand her regard for Jaster. “A bright future without destroying or denying the past... courage and honor... and above all else - family. Aliit. He can bring all Mandalorians together. If he dies, I think Mandalore will be lost.”

Then, so suddenly that it was almost painful, everything stopped. All noise. All fighting. Satine peeked out from the hiding spot she and Obi-Wan shared. “Looks... quiet.”

“Then let’s get going.”

Together, they slipped away from the speeder. The city was a mess, but it wasn’t destroyed. What good was a ruined city to Death Watch, after all? All she had to do was find Nole. Her blood went cold at the thought of sweet Nole alone in the terrible battle, trying to survive. Her gentle, calm nature would...

“Get back here, you coward!”

The shriek rang out, making both Satine and Obi-Wan start. They looked to their left just in time to see, bolting down the street, a Mandalorian with Death Watch colors and the infamous Shriek-Hawk emblem painted onto his armor. The Death Watch operative had a broken, sparking jet-pack on their back, no weapons, and was running faster than they should have been able to with so much beskar on. They yelled out, “Get away from me, you lunatic!”

Behind him, by a good few yards, a mostly human looking woman with her shirt half ripped off, one leg of her trousers completely missing, feet bare, and a club in her hand, chased him. “Don’t you run from me! Coward. Dishonorable slime!” She raised the club, studded with what looked like metal spikes, over her head as she ran. “I’ll rip you apart! I’ll bash your head off!” She vaulted over an overturned swoop without breaking stride. “Wait ‘til I get you!”

The Death Watch operative stopped running and turned to face the woman, who also stopped, glaring murderously at him. “Now, look... I’m not here to hurt civilians, so...”

“Hurt me?” The woman’s eyes went wide and her voice rose from a screech to bellow and she put a hand to her belly. “Did you just threaten my baby?! You monster! Threatening an innocent, defenseless woman and her baby!” She swung her club down and it smashed into the road with such force that the paving stones cracked and split apart. “I’m gonna butcher you!” She charged and the Death Watch operative, having more sense than they usually did, turned and started running, again.

In a moment, both were out of sight.

Obi-Wan turned to Satine. “What...?”

Satine let out a breath and her shoulders sagged with relief. “Oh, thank goodness she’s alright. That was Nole.”

“That was your maid?!”

“Yes. I was so worried, but it looks like she’s well enough.”

“Well enough? I have half a mind to go rescue the Death Watch.”

Satine shoved him lightly on the arm. “Don’t be like that. She’s a very sweet and kind lady.”

They started back for the Fortress, still cautiously keeping to shadows and out of sight, but they didn’t see anyone for a long while.

And then there was one great roar and, overhead, dozens and dozens of people in Death Watch armor flew. Like a great flock of birds, they all flew to the hole in the glass dome they’d created earlier and out to their waiting ship.

“What’s going on?” Satine asked.

A second flock of Mandalorian’s flew behind the Death Watch unit, hunting. Obi-Wan grinned. “It’s Jaster’s True Mandalorians and people from the city! Death Watch is retreating!”

Aranar raised its’ head up and bayed at the sky, jumping completely off the ground with excitement.

From where they were in the city, they could easily see the landing field. The Death Watch unit reached their ship and boarded well before the True Mandalorians could reach them. Their ship began to move, rising high over the landing field where it hovered for only a moment before it hit high speed and was gone. Then, the landing field exploded.

It was terrible, so immense that the already damaged glass dome vibrated from the energy of the explosion. At least ten ships were destroyed. There was fire and smoke and even from so far away, Satine could smell burning metal.

Satine, stunned, looked at Obi-Wan.

“Another bomb. They dropped some sort of bomb on the ships as a distraction so they could escape.” He stared at the shipyard with something terrible in his eyes - regret and pain and grief. “The ship.” He took a step, as if he would go there, but Satine caught his arm. “We need to go back to the Fortress. Jaster will be looking for us.”

Obi-Wan nodded, briskly. “Of course. You’re right.” He gave one last look at at the landing field where people from Keldabe were already gathering to, undoubtedly begin assessing the damage. “Let’s go.”

She and Obi-Wan returned to the Fortress to see the public area outside the Fortress teaming with Mandalorians, a rainbow of painted armor. They were in the streets, on buildings, and even hovering in the air. Above them all, on the battlements of the Fortress, Jaster stood.

“These cowardly attacks will not stand!” Jaster thundered in Mando’a, his voice obviously augmented by the audio of his helmet. Satine hadn’t even known they could do that. “To slip in and do battle against noncombatants, unarmed and unarmored.... shame on their names!” Jaster struck his blaster against his chest plate, making a loud, bell-like ring. “Let this be known - Mandalore will be free of fear. Each and every verd will stand tall against these low attacks and together we will rebuild Mandalore with glory and honor!” He raised his blaster in one hand and his beskad in the other. With all attention firmly on him, he threw back his head and howled, “Oya!”

As the gathered crowded echoed his cry, Satine stared. Her heart was racing. The people, wounded and exhausted from the battle, did stand taller at his words. They believed in him and, she knew as she watched him stand over them, he believed in them. She knew she had made the right choice to step aside for Jaster because - to her surprise - she believed in him, too.

“I hope you two have a very good reason for running off.”

Satine and Obi-Wan started when a hand landed on each of their shoulders. They turned and there was Doctor Gihan, in blood splattered armor, standing behind them. He took off his helmet and fixed them with a decidedly disappointed look.

“I thought I was clear when I said you were to rest. Wasn’t I? I’m pretty sure I didn’t suggest you both go off to have a little fun without supervision.” He stepped behind Satine and looked carefully at the injury on the back of her head. “Doesn’t look like you’ve done yourself any damage -”

Obi-Wan collapsed. It was entirely without warning. He simply fell, like a marionette whose strings had been cut, and stayed where he’d landed - a lump of awkward arms and legs on the ground. Satine tried to speak to him while Doctor Gihan rolled him over and began to examine him. He asked Satine questions. Had Obi-Wan been injured? Had he complained of pain? Any little comment about how he felt? After that last question, he pulled up one of the sleeves of the black undersuit Obi-Wan wore to look at his arm. Then he pulled up the other sleeve and sighed at the sight of a small, round film attached on Obi-Wan’s forearm. Doctor Gihan growled at the sight of it, a deep rumbling sound in his barrel-like chest.

“What is it?” Satine asked.

Doctor Gihan yanked off the round film. “A stim-patch. They are useful for a temporary boost of energy in dire situations. Considering his current health issues, he really shouldn’t have used it.”

To Be Continued...

Striil - a Mandalorian pet
Verd - warrior
Verde - warriors
Bacta - a miracle medicine that can heal just about anything
Supercommando Codex - A philosophy Jaster wrote for his people about how Mandalorians should behave.
True Mandalorians - Jaster’s elite soldiers.
Beskad - a Mandalorian sword
Oya - a motivating cheer
Aliit - family

Chapter Text

Chapter 24: Yellow

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Anakin-

Anakin was being carried, again. He was warm and comfy, so there didn’t seem to be any reason to protest, especially when he heard Obi-Wan’s voice. If Obi-Wan was there, then nothing was really wrong. Anakin let himself relax on the shoulder of whoever was carrying him, completely ignoring the mature little voice in his head that tried to tell him he was too told to be carried about like a baby. But the arms were gentle and he was tired.

He drifted in a doze while he was carried and he slowly began to recollect what had happened.

‘I was walking with Jaster and Obi and Sissy. We went to the place... it had a funny name... can’t remember. The place to learn how to be a Mandalorian. The little girl. She said bad stuff about Jedi so I slugged her. She hit back. Bo-Katan. Walking. Then my head hurt. It really hurt.’

As Anakin’s mind slowly woke up, he opened his eyes. He was being carried down a hall in the Fortress by Jango. Obi-Wan was walking next to Jango. Jango had Anakin carefully balanced against his shoulder while Aankin was perched on Jango’s forearm. Even half-asleep, Anakin silently bristled. It looked like Jango was carrying a baby! Anakin wasn’t all THAT small. If he could muster up enough ambition, he’d jump right down to the floor just to prove a point. But he was tired and the Force sang like a warm breeze around Jango, so Anakin stayed where he was. Jango’s other hand was secure on Obi-Wan’s arm.

“I can walk,” Obi-Wan huffed. “I won’t get lost.”

“I have doubts about that. I’m starting to get the idea that you’ll vanish under my nose if I don’t watch you closely enough. Slipping away unnoticed from an infirmary filled with Mandalorians? Getting out of the Fortress in the middle of a battle when all the verd around you were on high alert? It’s all very impressive, but I am under orders to see you back to Jaster’s apartment and put you to sleep and I don’t like to fail in my missions.”

“I am hardly a youngling that needs to be put to bed.”

“And yet you look like you’re ready to fall asleep on your feet. Maybe I should wake An’ika and let him walk so I can carry you, little brother.”

Obi-Wan stopped walking and it was so sudden that Jango stopped, too, and looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Jango, I really feel that I ought to tell you that rumor has begun to spread about that.”

“About what?”

“You calling me ‘little brother’. I understand that you’re only teasing and I don’t mind, but when I was looking for you earlier, one of your verd referred to you as my big brother. Someone must have overheard you when we were coming off the Bral and taken you seriously. You should stop saying it or more people will believe it.”

Jango didn’t move an inch, but the Force around him bubbled in a troubling way and Anakin knew Jango was unhappy. “You don’t want me to call you my little brother?”

“Well, as I said, I don’t mind it, but I wouldn’t want you to be put in any sort of uncomfortable situation. Everyone’s been very kind to us, so far, but I know that there are many Mandalorians who don’t like the Jedi. With your father about to assume the title of Mand’alor, you’re both going to be very public figures. If you let your people think you’re at all fond of me, it could make your life difficult and cause you a lot of hardship.”

The Force settled and became warm and soft, again. Jango started walking, still guiding Obi-Wan with a hand on his arm. “So, I might get in a few fights because some slow-wit doesn’t approve of who I call family? I can think of worse ways to spend my time. Besides, I’ve heard other rumors that say some Mandalorians might not be so against Jedi as you think.”

“What do you mean?”

“I overheard some of the verd in the barracks talking. It seems they’re rather hoping that your Jedi will come here to retrieve you rather than father taking you to Coruscant. Word has spread that the Jedi are actively looking for you and were contacted on the edge of our Empire. An’ika told you that he spoke to one of the Jedi searching for you? Master Windu, I think he said the man’s name was.”

“Yes. Why would your verd hope that Master Windu comes here?”

Jango rolled his eyes and patted Obi-Wan on the back. “You’re too innocent for your own good. Mandalorians appreciate a good fight more than most and the Jedi’s battle prowess is near legendary. Most Mandalorians have never even seen a Jedi, and while they think you’re a cute kid, the verd are looking forward to meeting a grown-up Jedi for the first time. I expect that if Master Windu comes here, he’s going to make some new friends very quickly.”

Obi-Wan looked puzzled. “Master Windu is a very good person and he’s an excellent swordsman, but he’s not a very social person. I once heard a senator call him a cold fish because he didn’t want to spend time with her. I don’t know that he’ll want to make a lot of new friends.”

“But he’s good with his jetti’kad?”

“His lightsaber? Oh, yes. He’s one of the best. In fact, he’s so good that he invented a whole new fighting style and there are Knights and even other Masters who practically beg him for lessons. He was a very good friend of my Master and when they were young, Master Windu spent a lot of time with my Master and my Grandmaster in their home. My Grandmaster is known to be one of the best swordsmen our Order has ever produced and he taught Master Windu. I’ve watched them duel many times. It was very impressive. So, while Master Windu might not want to make new friends, I think if anyone wants to fight, he might do that.”

“There are a lot of verd who are going to be very happy to hear that. They’ve been polishing their weapons.” Jango paused. “That sounded bad when I said it. Let me rephrase. They’ve been seeing to the maintenance of their blasters and blades and other tools in the hopes that they might get lucky enough to meet one of your rescue party and, hopefully, engage in some sparring.”

“I can’t promise he’ll oblige them, but it might be good for relations between Jedi and Mandalorians.”

Jango laughed. “Good for relations? Yes, I’d said it would be. When you were on Mandalore for the first time, did you spend all your time wandering the deserts?”

“Most of it. There were some small villages and farms where we found shelter and safety for a time. Why?”

“Because you apparently don’t know that part of the Mandalorian courting traditions is fighting. We’ll have to warn your Master Windu to be careful who he spars with.”

“Courting? With fighting?” Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide. “Goodness. I’m not sure Master Windu would approve of a Jedi doing that.”

“Well, we have some days yet before we have to worry about it and,” he stopped at a door. “We’re here, so it’s time for you to get some sleep.”

A few moments later and Anakin was being carefully put down in the sleeping pit he’s slept in the night before. He watched through barely open eyes when Obi-Wan slipped into the fresher to change out of the black undersuit and back into his white Jedi clothes. He joined Anakin in the sleeping pit, though he protested to Jango that he’d be more than comfortable on the couch in the other room so Anakin could have the whole sleeping pit to himself.

“This pit,” Jango said as he kept a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm to steady him as he climbed down into the pit. “Was built to hold at least six people. It’s meant to be shared. I know things are different in the Republic, but in a Mandalorian household, a whole family will usually share one. There is more than enough room for a skinny kid like you and little An’ika.”

“I’m not skinny.” With that last protest, Obi-Wan relaxed into the pillows and blankets and fell asleep.

“I know you’re awake, An’ika.”

Anakin sat up and looked at Jango. He looked at Obi-Wan. “What’s going on?”

“You hit your head when we were attacked.” Jango took a few minutes to explain that a bunch of people had attacked the city. There had been an explosion and Anakin had hit his head and gotten knocked out. But the battle had been won and the bad guys were gone. He also said that Obi-Wan had gone out in the middle of the battle. “But he’s alright. He’s just really tired so he’ll need to sleep for a while.” Jango sat on the edge of the sleeping pit near Anakin.

“But he’s going to be okay, right?” Because people died in battle. Obi-Wan was wonderful, but Master Jinn had died in a battle and Obi-Wan had once told Anakin that Master Jinn was a lot stronger than he was so he might have died. He might have died when Anakin was sleeping and wasn’t there to help.

“Hey,” Jango ruffled Anakin’s hair. “Don’t look so worried. I told you he’s alright and he really is. And I don’t think he’ll do it again. My father gave him a talking to when it was all over. Do you want to see?”

“How?”

“My helmet. I set it to recording in case Kenobi needs a reminder not to do dumb things.” Jango handed his helmet, which had been sitting on the floor beside him, to Anakin. “Put that on. I can control it from my vambrace,” he held up his arm to show off the computer strapped to it, “so all you have to do is watch and listen.”

Anakin took the helmet and cautiously put it on. It was much too big, but the insides were neat. There were little flashing lights and read-outs and buttons... he wanted one. He was pretty sure he could build one.

The display in front of his eyes flashed to life. He saw it - the infirmary. He saw Jaster and Doctor Gihan standing next to each other. He saw Obi-Wan and Satine, sitting side-by-side in chairs at the foot of one of the infirmary beds. The infirmary was very busy. There were people in almost all the beds and people, who were surely staff, rushing here and there.

With a great sigh, Jaster softly said, “I’m not angry. I’m just disappointed.”

Both Obi-Wan and Satine hung their heads, guiltily.

“Neither of you has had proper training and you certainly haven’t served your Verd’Goten, so you shouldn’t have been anywhere near the fighting. On top of that - going out with only one blaster? Reckless.” He frowned at Obi-Wan. “I know you have your jetti’kad, but next time, take a few more blasters in case you need to kill your enemies at a distance. Never know when you might need more firepower. And you, Sat’ika, you really should have at least one weapon if you’re going to go playing around in a battle. And the lack of armor...” he shook his head. “I don’t even have words.”

“Well, I do! You two could have been killed!” Doctor Gihan, unlike Jaster, paced. With his hands folded behind him, he paced back and forth as he spoke. “I don’t ever want to see such nonsense from the pair of you again! And you both ran out of my infirmary when you were told to say here.”

Satine said, “Technically, I wasn’t...”

Another, long-suffering sigh and Doctor Gihan held up a large, clawed hand. “Please. Don’t you even try it with the ‘technically’ stuff, young lady. You knew very well that you were to stay here after your injury.” Then he focused on Obi-Wan. “Kenobi, what were you thinking? A stim-patch?! Those are for emergencies only!”

“Satine was in trouble. It was an emergency.” Obi-Wan’s voice was calm as a winter night.

“But a stim-patch?” Jaster shook his head slowly and then put a hand to his face. “I can understand rushing into battle without thinking. I completely accept that the rush of battle hunger had taken hold of you and it is an intoxicating feeling. Believe me - I understand. And you’re both young enough to crave your first real battle.”

Obi-Wan raised his hand slightly and said, “But it’s not my first -”

Jaster continued, clearly not hearing him. “And I fully support you wanting to get a taste of real war. It’s natural at your age. But using a stim-patch? Oh, Kenobi. No. That’s not good at all. Doctor Gihan is absolutely correct - they are only for dire emergencies.”

Doctor Gihan explained the dangers of using a stim-patch and how it had overworked Obi-Wan’s already delicate health. He must not use medication without checking with a healer of some sort and Doctor Gihan made Obi-Wan promise to that.

Then Jaster looked at Satine. “Sat'ika, you have so little training. I would be heartbroken if you were killed during your first battle. You had such noble intentions - to rescue a woman and her unborn child! - but you must think before you act so rashly. I know we’ve only just met, but you certainly may go into my armory to pick out any weapon you’d like to use. Or, if you’re a bit shy about that, I know the Fortress has an armory where people may borrow what they please. In fact, you really should have your own collection of weaponry.”

Satine grumbled. “Pacifist. Remember?”

“You’ll outgrow that. Now, this battle is over, but there will be others and I want you both to understand that you will be going through some serious training -”

Obi-Wan said, “I AM trained.” If Anakin hadn’t known that Obi-Wan was so mature and wise and all around perfect, he might have thought Obi-Wan was whining, but that was obviously impossible.

Again, Jaster kept talking. “You are both sensible, intelligent, good-hearted children and I am proud to know you. I know there are so many others who love you.” Jaster’s voice softened as he spoke, growing heavy with emotion. “Sat’ika, I saw how little Bo-Katan looked at you, today. She adores you and longs to be at your side. How would she feel to have you gone, ripped away from her at such a tender age when an ad needs their family to guide them and protect them from the harshness of life?” He looked at Obi-Wan. “Kenobi, just think of little An'ika. Separated from his buir, the nightmare of slavery still haunting his every thought, and an uncertain future ahead of him. He relies on you. He needs you. And, just as Bo-Katan looks to Sat’ika, An’ika looks to you for protection and reassurance. If anything were to happen to you, he’d be devastated. You are both important. You must think before you put yourselves in danger.”

Jaster continued on in such a way, with Doctor Gihan pacing in the background and occasionally breaking in to add his own opinions about Obi-Wan and Satine’s little adventure out of the Fortress, and by the time he finished with, “The next time you want to go into battle, let me know beforehand and I’ll see you both properly armed and armored so you can have fun without worrying everyone who loves you.”

From outside the helmet Anakin was wearing, Jango said, “Would you believe that is the same man who says he can’t write a speech?”

Jaster ended his lecture - which had both Obi-Wan and Satine hanging their heads - with a promise. “There will be training for the both of you. I have more than enough stress in my life without worrying that you two are going to attempt another such daring escapade. I won’t hear any arguments from either of you. Is that clear?”

Obi-Wan, all regret and remorse, answered, “Yes, Jaster. I apologize for causing you any anxiety. Neither of us meant to trouble you.”

Jaster’s eyes narrowed. “That sounded suspiciously like, “I only regret being caught and I’ll do it again in a heartbeat, but next time I’ll be sure not to get caught.” Is that what you said? That’s what I heard.”

With a gasp, Obi-Wan put a shocked hand to his heart. “I am hurt and appalled that you think so low of me!”

“I still haven’t heard, “I promise not to go where people are actively trying to kill me without more training and weapons.” I’m waiting.”

Obi-Wan crossed his arms. “You’ve been so kind to us and I do understand your worry, but it’s entirely unnecessary. I do have training, in many things. Master Qui-Gon was a very thorough teacher. And I didn’t need to use that blaster at all.” He paused, then looked up at Jaster, earnestly. “I do apologize for taking it without permission. I didn’t mean to offend.”

Jaster’s eye twitched in the most fascinating way. “Taking without permission? That’s not the point I’m trying to make.”

Satine, however, narrowed her eyes. Rather than answering, she raised up her chin and stood up from where she’d been sitting, her back as stiff as an iron rod. “Am I well?” She asked Doctor Gihan.

It seemed to Anakin that Doctor Gihan was a bit reluctant when he answered, “Yes. Your head is fully healed. You don’t need to be here any longer.”

“Excellent. Thank you, Doctor Gihan. I appreciate your efforts. If you require anything further for the good of your patients, please inform me and I will see that more supplies are promptly delivered to you.” She started for the door of the infirmary.

“Where are you going?” Jaster asked.

“To work. You are not Mand’alor, yet, which means I have responsibilities to uphold. The city is in great need of repair and there are both wounded and the dead to look after. If any prisoners were captured, they need to be questioned.” She didn’t look at him as she strode out of the infirmary. The last thing Anakin heard her say was, “The food stores. I need to see that they didn’t damage the food stores.”

Jaster gaped.

Jango, who obviously couldn’t be seen because he was recording everything, said, “Go on, father. Didn’t you say you were going to teach her how to be Mand’alor? If you hurry, maybe she can teach you a thing or two.”

For a moment, Anakin feared Jaster might lose his temper. He hadn’t so far. He was a remarkably mild man, but he was big enough that if he truly got angry then he would be fearsome. Jaster turned red in the face. His hands shook. Then, all at once, he let out of a bark of a laugh. “The girl’s got fire in her spine, I’ll give her that! Jango, look after these two and get them home as soon as possible.” Then he left the infirmary.

For a while, all was silent between Obi-Wan and Jango. Finally, Obi-Wan sniffed. “I don’t see why you’re so upset with me. Everything worked out very well.”

“You hurt yourself,” Jango grumbled. “Luckily Doctor Gihan is such a good doctor or you’d be stuck in the infirmary for days after a stunt like that. Drugs? What were you thinking?”

Anakin’s eyes widened as he watched the scene play out. His breath caught in his throat. Drugs? Spice? Obi-Wan took Spice?

‘Bad,’ Anakin thought, frantically. ‘Very, very bad.’ He’d seen the addicts in town on Tatooine. Spice addicts didn’t care about much of anything. They would get violent if they didn’t get their fix. ‘Never saw him take anything. Maybe he hid it. I bet Jedi are sneaky and can do stuff like that.’

Anakin took off Jango’s helmet and held it in his lap. Across from him in the sleeping pit, Obi-Wan still peacefully slept. “What’s a stim-patch? Is it... is it Spice?” He felt sick saying it. “Is my Obi taking Spice?”

“Oh! Manda! No, no. I’m sorry, ad. I didn’t think you’d guess that.” Jango shifted to sit a little closer to Anakin and put a comforting hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Stim-patch is just... well, it’s a jolt of energy that lasts a short, but intense time. He shouldn’t have used it when he’s already not feeling well and it’s made him even more tired, but he’ll be alright. It does wear off.”

Anakin ran his fingers over the smooth exterior shell of Jango’s helmet, then turned it over to look at all the interesting bits on the inside of the helmet. “That’s good. ‘Cause I promised to take care of him.” He reached into Jango’s helmet and dragged his fingertips lightly over one of the audio sensors. “There was lots of Spice on Tatooine. Saw lots of people die from it. They always had an ugly, blissed-out smile when they died. Their hands and faces were always stained from the Spice. I gotta take care of Obi, ‘cause he needs me, but I don’t know what to do about Spice.”

“Spice is nothing you have to worry about. I know it’s hard when we want to help the people we love, but can’t.” Jango smiled sadly. “I was big brother, once. Just like your Kenobi. I had a little sister. When I was about your age, Death Watch forces attacked my family’s farm. One of my buir stayed behind to fight while my other buir picked up Arla and told me to run. I ran. There was so much noise and I was so scared. It was the middle of the night and the only light I saw was the flash of blaster fire. I was so scared. I ran and ran until someone caught me. It was Jaster. He and his people came to fight Death Watch and Jaster found me. He kept me close and saved me, but when the fighting was done, the True Mandalorian’s found both of my buire. They were dead. Never did find my sister. And today I told Sat’ika to run when she wanted to go back for her sister.” He rubbed his face with his hand and looked so tired that Anakin worried for him. “I wanted to find my sister so badly that it hurt and now I didn’t let Sat’ika find her sister. And if Sat’ika will allow father to adopt her, then he’ll probably try to get Bo-Katan because it wouldn’t be right to separate them, so she’ll be my little sister, too. I must be some sort of - never mind.”

Anakin patted Jango’s hand. “It’s okay. Sometimes things are just bad.” Because that was life, as far as Anakin knew. Bad stuff happened and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it or change it and the bad stuff just had to be endured. “Sissy’s nice. She won’t be mad.” At least he hoped so. Sometimes people got mad for no reason, but he was pretty sure Obi-Wan wouldn’t like a person like that and he liked Satine very much - Anakin could tell.

Jango ruffled Anakin’s hair, again. “Thanks, An’ika. That makes me feel a lot better. Do you think you can get some sleep, now?”

“You’re sure Obi’s not going to die?”

“Yes. I’m very sure.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Anakin nodded and lay down on the pillows and pulled a blanket up to cover himself. “Thanks for taking care of Obi.”

“Of course. I’d do no less for my little brothers. Go to sleep.”

***

Anakin dreamed.

He was in a room. It was dark. Black. Cold. He was alone. There was no noise. In the center of the room, Anakin sat, curled up in a little ball and he cried. He was alone. He didn’t want to be alone. He was scared and it was dark and he was alone. Alone forever.

“Anakin.”

His eyes were squeezed tightly closed and he rocked back and forth, slightly. He was so cold.

“Anakin, please open your eyes. You’re having a nightmare.”

Anakin did as he was told because he was obedient and he wanted to be safe. In front of Anakin, sitting on his knees in the darkness and looking completely relaxed, was Master Jinn.

“You’re dead.”

Master Jinn shrugged. “So I’ve heard. This isn’t a very happy dream.”

“But you’re dead. How are you here?”

“I really shouldn’t be. I’ve been trying to build up my energy for something important. But you’ve been under a lot of stress, so I thought I’d check on you. It’s easier to do this in dreams. Now, what’s wrong?”

He looked at Anakin with such a warm expression that Anakin wanted to tell him everything. He’d trusted Master Jinn since the minute he’d met him on Tatooine. Master Jinn had felt so strong, so steady, that it was impossible not to trust that he could make everything in the galaxy that was bad go away.

“I did something really bad and Obi’s gonna hate me.”

“What sort of bad thing?”

And, just like that, the room changed and he was in the psych-medic’s office. Jaster sat with him because, Jaster had told him, “Sometimes it’s easier for little ad to have a friendly grown-up around when they talk about hard things, but I’ll leave the minute you want me to.”

They sat together on the sofa of Doctor Ekil’s office. Anakin watched it all happen and slowly realized that it wasn’t exactly a dream, but a memory of earlier that day. Jaster hadn’t said a word in the office, but Doctor Ekil had seemed nice so Anakin hadn’t hesitated to talk to him. He hadn’t hesitated a bit to tell him everything about where he came from and how he’d come to be with Obi-Wan. But then, Doctor Ekil had asked, “Do you like Obi-Wan as much as you like your mom?”

It didn’t seem like a bad question, but Anakin didn’t like it. It made him think bad stuff because what if he only liked Obi-Wan because he missed his mom so much? And what if he started to love Obi-Wan as much as he loved his mom? That had to be wrong because his mom was the most important person in the whole galaxy and if he loved someone more than her, then it was like betraying her. But he’d been so angry at the suggestion that when he saw Obi-Wan in the waiting room, he’d hit him.

“It was dumb,” Anakin looked at Master Jinn when his memory-self hit Obi-Wan. “Wasn’t Obi’s fault I was mad. That was really dumb.”

Anakin’s memory shifted a little as his dream took over. Obi-Wan screamed when Ankin hit him, so horribly wounded that he fell unconscious to the ground. There was blood everywhere. Obi-Wan’s hand had been completely ripped off when Anakin had hit him.

“I probably really hurt him.”

Master Jinn let out a sigh. “Oh, no. My Padawan is very well able to look after himself on any planet in the whole galaxy. You didn’t hurt him, only surprised him.” Master Jinn waved a hand and they were back in the dark room. “A light smack on the hand didn’t injure him. In fact, if I know my Padawan at all, he’s more worried about you than his hand. What else is bothering you? I know there are many things, but what plagues your mind to send you into a nightmare?”

“I’m always scared. Of everything. I try to be brave, but it doesn’t always work. And Obi-Wan took a drug. Jango said he’s okay and he only did it to help someone, but some drugs are really bad. What if Obi dies? I know he wants to help people, but I don’t want him to die.”

Master Jinn sat on the floor and Anakin moved to sit in front of him so they could look each other in the eye when they spoke. Master Jinn said, “What you must understand is that selflessness is the Jedi way. Jedi do not live for themselves, but to be agents of the Force and serve those who need their help. Obi-Wan is the very embodiment of such a selfless life. He has no hesitation about putting himself in danger to save others. It is admirable, but sometimes he goes too far. After all, he can’t be of service to others if he gets killed. But I am glad that he has people in his life who will help take care of him and find balance between selfless service and self-care. Do you have any other worries?”

“Lots. What about killing people? I did that. Lots of people, but I didn’t mean to. Obi will be real mad about that. And what if I can’t stop being scared? I can’t read so can I still learn to be a Jedi? And that creepy senator he... he...” Anakin’s voice trailed away as he noticed something. “Master Jinn, why are your eyes yellow?”

Master Jinn smiled so gently that a lovely sense of peace washed through Anakin. “You’ll understand when you’re older. For now, I think it’s time for this nightmare to end. You have enough worries when you’re awake, you don’t need them when you’re sleeping, too. Try to think of something nice.”

Anakin looked around the dark room. There was nothing nice. The whole world was too heavy and bleak.

“Go on,” Master Jinn urged. “Think of something that would make you so happy that your heart would sing.”

Anakin didn’t think he’d ever been so happy that his heart would sing. It was hard to imagine such a thing. But he closed his eyes and thought and then, very suddenly, he was laying on grass. It was soft, like a cushion, and such a bright green that it almost hurt to look at it. A gentle hand brushed over his hair and Anakin looked up to see his mom sitting on the grass next to him. She was smiling. It seemed like he’d never seen her smiling so easily.

“Hi, mom.”

“Hello, darling. Isn’t it a lovely day.”

Anakin looked up at the sky. It was dark gray and a soft shower of rain fell, little cold drops of water on Anakin’s face. It rained all time where they were. Anakin didn’t know exactly where they were or how he knew it always rained. It was okay. It was good. They always sat in the grass under the trees. He didn’t know how long they’d been on the planet, but it was safe. It wasn’t Tatooine, nor was it Naboo or Mandalore or Coruscant. It was safe and they were safe and there was nothing to worry about.

The rush of a jet pack caught his attention and, out of the dark gray sky came a Mandalorian. He was dressed in white and brown armor and landed a few feet away from Anakin and his mom.

“I hate to interrupt such a nice morning,” Obi-Wan took off his helmet and smiled down at them. “But it’s time for training.” From his belt, he took two light sabers and held one out to Anakin. “We really should practice.”

Anakin looked at his mom and she nodded. “Go ahead, darling. Have fun. Obi-Wan, please be back in time for midday meal.”

Obi-Wan leaned over and kissed Anakin’s mom on the cheek. “Yes, mom. We won’t be too long.”

Everything was perfect. Anakin was so happy in his dream, with the people he loved the most, that by the time he woke up, he had completely forgotten about Master Jinn’s funny yellow eyes.

To Be continued...

Jetti’kad - light saber
Jetti - Jedi
Verd-Goten - coming of age ritual
Manda - heaven / God (I think I have this translation correct.)
Ad - child

Author's Note: I understand that Arla is supposed to be Jango's older sister, but, as with other things in this story, I've changed that to suit my purpose.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25: Why Didn’t It Ever Stop?

Mandalore-
Herna-

After the battle had ended, Herna let her leader guide her through the city. The blanket - her boy’s blanket - was secure in her arms. They were able to avoid meeting anyone, though the city was filled with people coming out to start cleaning up the wreckage from the battle. They moved slowly and calmly and, as was the way of their people, did what they could to avoid the other Mandalorians.

In the confusion of all the after battle activity, they made their way out to the landing field where hundreds of others were examining the fates of their ships - loss or survival. They really weren’t even noticed. The attack had taken out most of the interior of the landing field, but, as luck would have it, Herna and her leader had landed their ships at the perimeter of the landing field. Both of their ships were fine. There wasn’t a bit of damage on either of them. And that was good, because Herna was going to need her ship to escape with her boy. There was the question about how she was going to escape from her leader.

“Your pardon,” Herna said when her leader stopped to examine the gun port of his ship. “I need to check my own.”

“Of course.” He watched her carefully and she cursed herself, not for the first time, for reacting so poorly when he’d found her with the blanket. She’d been careless. Stupid.

Alone, in her ship, she tucked the blanket away under the pilot’s seat, where it would always be in easy reach. Then she took a moment to think about what her next step would be. But her mind seemed to buzz with too many thoughts all at once and the only thing that clearly made sense was that she had to get her boy.

“You will return home.”

Herna froze at the voice and slowly turned to find her leader standing right behind her. She hadn’t even heard him approach, she’d been so lost in her own buzzing thoughts.

He continued, “I was too rash in taking you away from Concordia. I should have left you with our people for at least a few days.”

“I can’t return... not yet.” She would kill him, if she had to. She didn’t want to - he had never done her any harm - but if he stood between her and her boy, he would die.

“Why not?” He didn’t moved to get closer to her and his voice was soft and steady as always.

She hesitated. She didn’t want to tell. Her boy was better off a secret, to be kept close to her heart where no one would ever hurt him. Better still, he should be kept so secret that no one would ever see him or hear his voice.

“Vod,” Herna’s leader said. “Tell me. Why can you not go home?”

He could ruin everything. If he thought she was untrustworthy, he would force her to leave Mandalore. He could. He was stronger and the better warrior. If she tried to take flight, she might escape them - despite the strength of her people - but she would lose her chance at finding her boy and she was so close! He was nearby and she just needed more time to find him. She needed time. If she could find her boy first, then she could risk fleeing. She would steal him away and run and run until they crossed the whole galaxy and beyond, taking refugee in the darkness of the Unknown Regions. But until then, she needed time.

“I need to find my foundling.”

“A foundling? Where? When did this happen?”

Years ago, she wanted to say. She remembered that fateful moment when she had first seen him, when she knew he was her foundling. After all, he was a Jedi and everyone knew they didn’t take proper care of their young. “Here. He’s here, in the city. I can’t leave. I won’t!” The words came out harsher than she’d intended, but there was no help for it. The thought of having to leave Mandalore before finally getting her boy was painful... terrifying. And he needed her.

“Wanting a foundling is no dirty secret to hide. Of course your foundling will be welcome with us. Bring him to us and he will be raised as a proper Mandalorian should be.” But he paused. “How did you get close enough to him that you were able to get his blanket? That was his blanket you had, wasn’t it? How were you so close, but you weren’t able to take him?”

“They don’t want to let me have him.” She was tired of talking. She needed to go. Perhaps in all the confusion of the attack, he was left unguarded by Mereel’s people and it would be a good chance to slip away. “They all want to keep him from me.”

“Why?”

“They want him to. He’s precious. They all want my boy.”

“Vod... does this foundling have family?” His voice was low, a thread of something dangerous laced his words. “Is he truly a foundling?”

“His guardian was killed.” It was a certain fact that he was a foundling. No one could argue with it. “He wasn’t good enough for my boy, anyway. Never treated him well enough.” How could he? How could a Jedi Master treat her boy with the love he deserved? It was well-known that Jedi were incapable of love. It was trained out of them so rigorously that by the time they reached adulthood they were more droid than people. She could imagine how her boy suffered with that Master. She’d only ever seen the Master for a few moments. She had seen how her boy had hurried to obey (he was frightened of that Master) and how Master Qui-Gon had given her such a menacing look when he’d caught her watching Obi-Wan (he was dangerous... he was deadly). “The others want him, but I saw him first. He’s mine.”

“I understand. Tell me his name and I will retrieve him.” He took her by the arm and led her out of her ship. He said nothing else until he reached his own ship and there, he sat in the pilot’s seat and began to program the communication system.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling home. The vod will come here and take you back to Concordia. I believe you need rest. You are not acting as yourself. I will find the foundling and he will stay in the Nursery until you are well enough to take him.”

Herna stood behind her leader as he spoke and she knew, in that moment, that he wouldn’t help. He would take her boy and lock him away and, just like the others - Master Qui-Gon, the unnamed slave woman, Jaster Mereel - he would want to keep her boy.

She slipped a hand into the utility belt she wore and there found one of the small bombs that were a part of her typical arsenal. It fit easily into the palm of her hand and could be activated with a press of the only button on it. While it was still in the pouch on her belt, she pressed the button and began counting as the timer counted up to thirty seconds.

“I don’t need rest,” Herna told him. “I have been looking for him for so long. I am too close.”

He didn’t turn to look at her. “You said you found him here. I believe you are not telling the entire story. Tell me the truth.” When she said nothing, he shook his head. “I don’t understand what happened to you, but you are too valuable to our people to leave you without help.”

“I don’t need help. I know what I’m doing.” In her mind, she kept counting. Fiftteen... sixteen... seventeen...

“You do need help and you will get it.”

Herna kept counting. Twenty-six... twenty-seven...

“What is the foundling’s name?”

Twenty-eight...

Herna lightly put the bomb on her leader’s back, right in the center, then turn and ran to the back of the ship. She heard the explosion and the smell of something burning. The force of the explosion almost knocked her down. Thanks to the protection of the ship, it was almost impossible for anyone outside to have heard what happened inside. Herna stayed near the back of the ship for a time, waiting to see if her leader would go after her. When nothing happened, she pulled out her blaster and went back to the cockpit.

He lay slumped over the control console, his arms hanging limply at his sides and a small trickle of blood seeped out from under his helmet and dripped down onto the console. Of course, his armor was undamaged - beskar was stern stuff. He didn’t move. For a long while, she watched him, but he didn’t move.

Only a week previously and she would have said she would never kill the leader of her people, but things had changed. She didn’t feel much as she watched him smolder, smoke from the explosion rising from his armor in gentle little wisps of smoke. She thought she should have felt more, but she really didn’t. He was unimportant and she needed to find Obi-Wan.

Herna left his ship and sealed the door behind her. No one would look for him for days, if she was very lucky. Without even looking at her ship, she activated her jet pack and flew back to Keldabe to consider how she could get Obi-Wan out of the Fortress.

Later-
Pav-

He woke in pain. Everything hurt. For a long time, he didn’t move. He breathed deeply to adjust to the pain, then began to slowly, carefully move each part of his body to see how damaged he was. Everything was operational, but the pain was nearly overwhelming.

He was laying on the ship’s console. All was silent. He took a deep breathe, then winced. A bruised or broken rib. He sat up and his whole back nearly screamed at him to stop moving.

Pav closed his eyes and tried to remember. He had been speaking to Herna, but then all was darkness and pain and he didn’t know where Herna had gone to. Pav rubbed his face to help himself wake up, then looked around. He stood up, but immediately went dizzy and a little fuzzy. None of his weapons had been taken. In fact it looked as if nothing at all had been taken.

A look at the ship’s chronometer told him that a full day and a night had passed. The sun was rising. Any hope of finding Herna, if she truly wished to remain hidden, was likely gone. And even if he wanted to take the risk of it, he needed to stay in Keldabe so he could decide if Jaster Mereel was going to be a problem that needed to be dealt with or if he could comfortably be ignored.

‘And,’ he thought, ‘if there is a foundling out there who needs looking after, I think I should keep him from Herna, if at all possible.’

He rubbed his forehead where it had smashed against the front of his helmet when he’d fallen on the console. He turned on the security cameras that were mounted on all sides of his ship to see what was going on around his ship.

There were still people trying to salvage ruined ships and repair damaged ones. He flipped through all the cameras, looking at what was going on outside his ship at that moment. He stopped when he saw Jaster Mereel, unmistakable in his blood red cape and the mark of the Mythosaur on the left shoulder of his red and gray armor. He walked across the landing field, speaking briefly with various people here and there, until he reached a spot near the epicenter of the explosion that had ruined so many ships. Another Mandalorian stood at his side while two unarmored youths - a young child holding the sleeve of the older boy - stood on his other side. Pav directed the audio sensors towards them and turned up the audio controls to listen.

Obi-Wan-

After Obi-Wan had woken from a deep sleep, Jaster had mentioned he was going to the landing field to see the destruction, and Obi-wan insisted on going. Where Obi-Wan when, Anakin was sure to follow. So they all got into a speeder and, within minutes, they were at the landing field.

The ship was gone. The perfect ship Padme had given them, the ship that would have freed Anakin’s mother... it was nothing but debris on the ground. Shiny debris that was almost too bright to look at under the light of the sun was strewn everywhere.

Obi-Wan felt a coldness sweep through his blood. He swallowed hard and closed his eyes.

“Don’t be sad,” Anakin told him. “Padme won’t be mad that her ship got blown up. She won’t be.”

Obi-Wan kept staring out at what had been the greatest treasure he’d ever been given. It would have saved a life. Anakin would have been able to let go of much of his fear if he could know his mother was free and safe. But it was gone. “Yes. Yes, I know. Thank you, Anakin.” Obi-Wan’s ears were ringing and he was pretty sure that wasn’t a good sign. He desperately needed to mediate. If only he could feel the Force or at least have a trained Master to help guide him. He felt so unbalanced. Like the world was pushing at him from all sides and without the Force he didn’t know how to deal with it.

“Ken’ika,” Jaster said, softly. “How are you holding up? Do you need to rest?”

“I’ve had my fair share of resting, but thank you.” After Jango had helped him into the sleeping pit in Jaster’s apartment, Obi-Wan had slept more than a full day. He felt incredibly lazy. He’d never slept so much in his life! “You’ve been very kind. I just... it’s all gone.”

Jaster squeeze Obi-Wan’s arm. “I remember what you had planned for that ship. We’ll think of something else. Don’t give up.” He looked over his shoulder at some people, then said, “Will you boys be alright on your own for a bit?”

“Yes, sir. Of course.”

“I’ll be back soon.”

A stiff wind flew across the landing field and Obi-Wan watched as sand was blown over some of the parts of the ship. The bits of metal that had been ship were twisted and curled at the edges. There were a few recognizable things. The pilot’s seat had survived in tact, but looked strange sitting surrounded by the rest of the ruin. He saw the handle of the fresher’s door and a half-burned piece of the carpet that had gone throughout the ship.

“What’s Boss Jaster doing?”

Obi-Wan looked from Anakin to where Jaster had gone a short distance away and spoke with a dozen Mandalorians looking through another ship that was in just as bad condition as Padme’s ship.

“He’s speaking with investigators from Keldabe,” Jango answered. “I need to go with him. You two stay here.” He set off after Jaster.

With Anakin clinging to his sleeve, as Anakin had been doing since Obi-Wan had woken up from his possibly poorly thought out use of the stim-patch, Obi-Wan walked slowly into the mess of metal. At the very least, he was immensely grateful that he’d never mentioned a word of his plan to Anakin. If Anakin had known that the ship was to be used to free his mother, then he would have been devastated to see it in such a state.

“This is great,” Anakin stared at the remains of the ship with a brilliant smile.

“What?”

“I don’t mean being attacked and the ship getting blown up,” Anakin said. “But look at all this great stuff!” For the first time since Obi-Wan had woken up, struggling to open his eyes and fight off the weariness that was beginning to plague his bones, Anakin let got of Obi-Wan’s sleeve. He bent down and picked up a piece of metal. He looked it over, carefully, then tucked it under his arm before he took a step and picked up a circuit board that belonged to some part of the ship Obi-Wan didn’t recognize. He put that small piece in his pocket. “Padme gave us an amazing ship. Even blown up, this is fantastic stuff.”

Obi-Wan frowned at the rubbish all across the sand. “It is?”

“Sure. Like this. Look at this.” Anakin picked up what looked like a small, black box. “This is a Dynam Surge. Do you know how much these go for? Watto would have given his left arm for one of these!”

“Are you saying that this stuff is valuable?”

Anakin gave Obi-Wan one of those looks he had when he thought Obi-Wan was being silly. “Of course it is! This stuff could have bought all Mos Espa. Come on - we gotta save it before someone else gets it.” He began to put everything he could get his hands on in a pile.

Obi-Wan bent down and picked up a small piece of blue painted metal that looked like it might have been a lid that closed over something, but he wasn’t entirely sure. He looked at the growing collection of stuff. That it had any value at all amazed him, but he supposed Anakin would know better. He joined Anakin in putting anything he could find on the pile. Perhaps, they would save Anakin’s mother, after all.

“Obi?” Anakin asked. “Do you think a lot of people died in the battle? Why did we get attacked? Were they try trying to steal us? I think people got hurt ‘cause Doctor Gihan was real busy when you were sleeping. Someday, I’ll be strong enough that I can stop stuff like this. I hate it when people get hurt. I hate fighting, too, but I think I’m gonna stop bad people then I got to fight, right? I’ll have to fight when people can’t fight for themselves.”

It was at that moment, that Obi-Wan looked down and, at his feet, he saw a small piece of metal that had obviously once been round. He knew that thing. He bent over and picked it up and when he dusted the desert sand off it, he saw the familiar maker’s mark. He knew what it was. He recognized the gruesome thing.

Obi-Wan blinked and he was back THERE. There were bombs exploding, brightening the night sky in bursts of terrible light. He heard gunfire and the little ones were crying. He was small and scared and desperately trying to be brave for the smaller children huddled around him. The older ones, closer to his own age, held stolen blasters and stood near the entrance of their hideout, ready to kill anyone who came too close. They were too young. Everyone was too young.

Grep was in the corner. They didn’t have anything to cover him with. His lifeless eyes stared at the ceiling. He was twelve. Twelve years old and there were burns over half his face and he was dead. The sound of shelling didn’t end. It kept going and going and why didn’t it stop? Why didn’t it ever stop?!

Sylan, the youngest of the group, couldn’t stop crying and pressed herself into a corner of their shelter, as if to push herself into the rock wall.

“Hey!” Obi-Wan was shaken and he blinked. Jango was in front of him, watching closely. “You back with us?”

Obi-Wan nodded. He could smell burned flesh.

Jango kept watching for a minute, before he stood up straight and said, “You were far off for a bit. Anakin was worried.”

Anakin looked more than worried. He looked confused and frightened and that was the last thing Obi-Wan wanted. Anakin had enough fear in his life, he didn’t need Obi-Wan to be bringing him more. In fact, Obi-Wan was supposed to be taking care of him. Anakin stood just behind Jango, wringing his hands. “You got all weird. Are you still tired? We don’t need this dumb stuff.” He turned and kicked the pile of salvaged materials he’d been building. “I don’t want it anyway. We should go back so you can rest.”

‘And there I go making a mess of things.’ Obi-Wan put all those inconveniently unpleasant emotions in a box in his mind and put them in the back of a closet. He would deal with it all another time. He smiled. “There’s nothing to worry about. I think it’s very important that we collect this valuable treasure. You never know when we might need something of value, after all.”

“But... but you were just staring and your hands start shaking. I had to get Jango, ‘cause you wouldn’t talk to me!”

“I’m sorry. It was nothing more than a bad memory that had gotten the better of me. I won’t let it happen again.”

“What kinda memory?”

“Melida/Daan.”

“What’s that?”

Obi-Wan’s voice caught in his throat. He... couldn’t. He just couldn’t tell Anakin. The idea of talking about that awful time to Anakin, who already had so much trauma in his life... Obi-Wan couldn’t. Really, he felt incredibly stupid saying as much as he had. “It’s nothing. But what made me think of it was this.” He showed Jango the explosive casing he’d found and looked up at him to see his reaction.

Jango scowled. Even without the Force Obi-Wan could see that Jango fairly boiled with anger and Obi-Wan was taken aback. Jango had been so mild up until that moment, but seeing him in such a way was almost enough to make him frightening. He took the explosive casing from Obi-Wan. “You found this here? Among the wreckage of your ship?”

“Yes. I recognize the type of explosive. We used to call them Bright-Glows. They lit up real brightly at night.”

It made Jango scowl so hard that a deep line formed between his eyes. Then he let out a huff of breath. “Right. Well, this is a Series 4 Low Grade bomb.” He tapped the communicator on his vambrace and, a moment later, Jaster was with them, also frowning at the explosive casing Jango handed him.

Jaster said, “Death Watch dropped an X49 explosive. Three verd were close enough to see it dropped from the Death Watch ship. Sending something this minor down along with an X49? It doesn’t make sense.”

“This ship was fine,” Jango insisted. “When I took Kenobi’s Master from it. There was no sign of trouble at all. Whoever did this must have attacked after I left here and just before Death Watch attacked the landing field. It’s a big window, wouldn’t have been hard to do with so many people involved in the battle.”

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan said. “Are you saying that our ship was purposely attacked, but not by Death Watch?”

“That’s right. Looks like your ship received special treatment,” Jango snarled. “A second attacker took out your ship. Death Watch would have aimed for the Bral, if they were going to target a single ship. Someone else did this.” He tightened his hand on the bomb casing and made as if he would throw it in his anger, but his fist was caught.

Jaster held onto Jango’s arm, then took the bomb casing from him and put it in the pouch on his belt. “We should get back to the Fortress before Sat’ika starts to worry. Come along. An’ika, what a nice collection you have. Let’s get it all loaded onto a speeder and get going. My first challenge match is in a few hours, so we really ought to get ready.”

A glance at Jango showed that he hadn’t stopped scowling.

To Be Continued...

Verd - warriors
Vod - siblings / comrades

Chapter Text

Chapter 26: Preparation

Coruscant-
Jedi Temple-
Master Yoda-

In the Council Chambers of the Jedi Council, a meeting had just concluded. The Council Chambers were silent. All but Masters Windu and Koon were in attendance, plus the four Chiefs of the Service Corps. The meeting had lasted for hours. Every minute detail of the current situation was discussed, debated, and dissected.

“It all lays with Senator Palpatine, doesn’t it?” Depa said, mildly. “His choice - whether he chooses to pursue the younglings or not - will determine our path. If he attempts to compel us to allow him the unrestricted company of younglings, we will leave the Republic to forge a new home. If he does not, we will stay.”

All were in agreement.

In unison, all four Chiefs bowed to the Council. Chief Corpsman Pallo said, “We need to let our people know what’s going on and make arrangements.”

Master Yoda nodded, in return. “Then go and do what you need to. We will get all ready here.”

The four Chief Corpsmen left and when it was only the Council members remaining, Master Yoda said, “We cannot delay. The Masters and Knights must be informed of what is happening and where it may lead us.”

The atmosphere was heavy in the room, filled with regret and deep thoughts about what the future would hold for them, no matter which path they followed. It was no mystery as to why. They had all grown up on Coruscant and, despite its imperfections, loved it. Their forbearers had called Courscant home for a thousand years. They had history on Courscant, roots. It was home.

Life in the Republic was, perhaps, not the best, but Yoda remembered when the Jedi had been respected and admired. Life in the Republic could be better, but it was stable and while they didn’t have much power when it came to the Senate, they had the Temple and the Temple had always been safe.

‘It is not safe if the new Chancellor feels free to come in here and demand our younglings. Our home is not safe.’

A Temple wide announcement was made for all Masters and Knights to report to the Meeting Hall. It was large enough to accommodate all Masters and Knights currently in residence at the Temple and had doors with locks to prevent any curious younglings from overhearing things they shouldn’t.

“I am uneasy doing this without all of the Council in attendance,” Depa said, softly. “Still, Master Mace and Master Koon would be in agreement. Considering everything you told us about our future Chancellor, I don’t see that we have any choice.”

With Yoda leading the way, the Council members went to the Meeting Hall. Many Masters and Knights had gathered, already, and Yoda and the Council made their way to the far end of the Meeting Hall where a raised platform stood several yards above the rest of the room. The Council members climbed the stairs to the platform and stood there, in a row above their people, and waited until the last of the Knights walked into the room. When they were assured that every Master and Knight in the Temple - the only exception being the Crechemasters who couldn’t, wouldn’t, leave the younglings in their care unattended and would be informed of the goings on at a later time - was in attendance, the doors were closed and locked.

Master Yoda stepped forward and looked out at his people. They were all so young. He had watched all of them grow up in the Temple. He had sung to them and told them stories. He had watched many of them take their first steps and heard their first words.

Yoda said, “We have called you all here with grave news. You have all been made aware of the death of Master Qui-Gon Jinn. There is other information you must have.” He told them of Senator Palpatine trying to take Padawan Kenobi and Future Initiate Skywalker from the protection of the Temple, of his vulgar rudeness in giving them open compliments and calling them by their first names. He told them everything and while the crowd remained respectfully quiet, he was not surprised when, at the end of his speech, he asked for any questions and the whole room came alive.

“Is he a serious danger to the younglings?”

“Does he have any legal standing?”

“This is outrageous, it can’t be allowed!”

“Perhaps it was a misunderstanding.”

“He’s going to be Chancellor. He can’t do this! He can’t!”

And with the words came the feelings. Yoda knew his people were well-trained, but all the training in the galaxy couldn’t hide their unhappiness at the news that their younglings were the focus of some outsider’s attention. The room became filled with the sense of distress and tension.

Finally, someone asked, “What are we going to do, Master Yoda?”

“We have made a plan with the Service Corps. When Senator Palpatine becomes Chancellor, we may find ourselves under threat. We will not leave without legal, provable reason, but if the worst comes to pass and Senator Palpatine decides to continue pressing for our Younglings, then we want to be ready at a moment’s notice. It has been decided that we will take the precautionary measure of evacuating the younglings to the Flagship of the EduCorps. They are currently preparing living space for the younglings as well as preparing their people to help in the care of the younglings. The younglings have not been told what has happened and they won’t be told unless necessary. There is no reason to frighten them. At the moment we will tell them it is a little sleep away vacation, a treat to celebrate the Day of Giving.”

“Grandmaster Yoda,” one young Knight stepped forward. “Is it certain that Senator Palpatine is a threat to us? Couldn’t this have been a mistake. We all know that no one outside the Temple really understands us.”

Another Knight said, “We also know that the Senate is full of corrupt, arrogant, animals who think their wealth and power give them the rights to anything and anyone. They do not treat us well. My padawan brother went out of the Temple for the first time with our Master on a mission less than a month ago and when they returned, he was all amazed. It turned out that during their mission they were offered hospitality by a farmer. Not a politician or nobility, but a simple farmer. That farmer filled the table with food - meats and vegetables and breads - and urged my padawan brother eat his fill. He confessed to me that he had been frightened to eat so much, fearing that the farmer would go hungry later. He’d been so frightened that he’d made himself sick. Surely, our younglings shouldn’t be frightened of eating more than the bare necessity!” Then she looked at Yoda and bowed her head. “Forgive my bluntness, Grandmaster Yoda.”

Yoda agreed with her. For years - more years than he cared to think of - they’d had to be so careful about the finances of the Order and that had meant extremely careful planning when it came to food. Everything they ate had to be healthy and, so, they had developed a food that was cheaply produced, filling, and could be altered to suit any species’ required diet. But it was an unappetizing gray gruel and had no taste. Those who had lived in the Temple since infancy didn’t mind as they had never known any different, but it was hard on older children who knew what it was like to eat warm bread, sweet fruit, and spiced meats. No one in the Temple ever starved. But there were no treats. No sweets or savories meant purely for enjoyment. One of the very few outsiders who came to share a meal in the Temple had once commented about the blandness of the food, but in the Temple food was not meant for pleasure, it was meant for survival.

“You are both correct,” Yoda told them. “Our younglings deserve more and the Senate has not treated our Order well. But it is possible that Senator Palpatine misunderstands our ways. That is possible.” It wasn’t likely. Yoda didn’t believe it for an instant. Even if Senator Palpatine didn’t understand, he had been offered information several times and had ignored it. “For the time being, we will act with caution.”

A Master stepped forward. “Grandmaster Yoda, what about the Padawans? If we do need to make a hasty exit from Coruscant, then the Padawans must be considered, too. I have great faith in them, but they are not adults.”

“The Council highly recommends that Padawans - both junior and senior ranks - be sent to the Service Corps as extra help to take care of the younglings in this chaotic time and for their own safety. However, Masters with Padawans will, naturally, be the ones to make the decision about where they will best be kept - at your side or on the ship of the EduCorps. In the meanwhile, we must not let people think anything is amiss with our Order. If Senator Palpatine thinks he may lose the Jedi Order, it is possible that he may attempt some trick to make things difficult for us. The Service Corps will be prepared to accept the younglings, Crechemasters, and helpers in a few hours. An announcement will be made at that time. Be ready.”

Yet another Master stepped forward and asked, “I would like to suggest that everyone and their Padawans go over the evacuation plans to ensure we all know what we will be doing.”

Yoda nodded. “An excellent idea.” They had an evacuation plan, it had been in place for centuries, but they had never had reason to use it. “It is extremely unlikely that any armed parties will stand against us, but as a precaution, all should review the details of the plan. The Younglings will already be on the ships. The sick and injured in the infirmary will be evacuated, next. Then Masters with Padawans. The Temple Guard will leave after them to guard those who most need it. Masters without Padawans and Knights will be the last to leave the Temple. When all are accounted for, we will leave Coruscant. If it is necessary.”

Master Nu, the Head Archivist, crossed her arms. “The Archives can’t be forgotten during all this. It can’t be left behind. Moving it all on short notice will be difficult, but we must try.”

Someone made a comment about a librarian being attached to her library.

Master Nu was a small woman, old enough to have steel gray hair, but still a formidable opponent in any battle. At the sharp comment about attachment, Master Nu snapped, “This is not a mere recreational library for entertainment! We have danger stored in our Archives.” She looked around at her fellow Masters and the Knights. “We have dark knowledge from ancient times. We have weapons that no one - not even us - should use. We have Sith secrets. There is such darkness, such power, that can’t be allowed to fall into the hands of people who don’t understand the danger. If we abandon Coruscant and leave the archives behind, then the people here may become victims of it... or worse - try to use it.”

Yoda said, “This is all true. Volunteers to help with the Archives will be appreciated. Speak with Master Nu, if you wish to help.” Yoda looked around the great room, looking for any other questions or comments and when he knew that all accepted what was to happen, he said to them, “Please, go and prepare. Senator Palpatine will become the Chancellor in less than two weeks. We have time, but not much. Dismissed.”

Everyone began to leave. Most would prepare for the disruption of leaving, an event almost no one had ever thought would happen. Depa went to speak with the Crechemasters while several of the other Council members went to conscript Knights and senior Padawans to get ready to help move the majority of the Creche rooms onto the EduCorps ship.

Once he was alone in the Meeting Hall, Yoda finally let his shoulders slump. He leaned heavily on his walking stick. He had never been a great one for change, even in the best of times, and this uprooting of all their people was as big of a change as one could have.

He walked through the halls of the Temple, thinking of how he would miss the stone floors, the tiled murals on the walls. He knew every inch of the Temple, every broken light switch, every drafty window. He had played in the gardens as a child, had climbed to the pinnacle at the very top of the Temple as a daring youth, and taught in the classrooms as a Master. He loved the Temple. But he wasn’t attached. For the good of all his people, he could give up the Temple. He would regret, but not enough to expose the younglings to danger.

In his apartment, Yoda sat on his chair and closed his eyes. He would go the Archives to help with the move. Master Nu was quite correct - the Archives couldn’t be abandoned and given his position and power, he needed to help with some of the more dangerous items. At the moment, he allowed himself a selfish few seconds to think of his dear grandpadawan and mourn. Sweet Qui-Gon. Dead. Just thinking about it made his heart hurt. He released the pain and the grief, focusing his mind, instead, on a beloved memory.

Memory-

“Master, I ask your blessing to bring this initiate into our Line.” Dooku said in a tone that was as humble as he could manage. In Yoda’s apartment, Dooku knelt on the floor in front of him. With his hands on his knees, Dooku bowed until his elbows were at a sharp angle and he faced the floor. “This initiate shows strength of character and a clear connection with the Force that must be nurtured. He will be a valuable asset to the Order and a willing agent of the Force.”

Little Qui-Gon, only seven-years-old, knelt next to Dooku. He had been quiet when he had followed Dooku into Yoda’s apartment and while Dooku spoke. The minute he noticed that Dooku wasn’t paying attention to him, Qui-Gon waved at Yoda. When he grinned - showing off a missing front tooth - his nose wrinkled in that cute way human noses tended to.

“So grave, my little one,” Yoda had said to Dooku. “Did you think I would refuse you?”

“Of course not.” Dooku sat up with all of his usual dignity and grace. “But there is no harm in being polite at such an important moment.” He raised an eyebrow at Qui-Gon. “This little beast will need a great deal of taming, so I would like him to be exposed to good manners as often as possible.”

Qui-Gon giggled at the insult and leaned against Dooku, trustingly.

That Dooku indulged the boy’s show of affection was telling.

“Then I will happily give my blessing.” He looked at Qui-Gon and patted the seat seat next to him. “Come and sit with me, my Grandpadawan.”

“It isn’t formalized, yet,” Dooku said.

“It will be as soon as you have given him a braid before the Council. Now, come here, Qui-Gon.” The moment Qui-Gon had scampered over and cheerfully sat at Yoda’s side, Yoda asked, “Would you like to hear silly stories about Master Dooku?”

“He doesn’t need those,” Dooku protested.

“There was this one time that he had a box of green glitter and...”

End Memory-

Yoda blinked away the fond memory when he heard a nearby thumping. Curiously, he left his apartment and looked into the hall that also housed the apartments of several others of his Line. Two doors down from his room, he saw Padawan Quinlan Vos at the door of Qui-Gon’s apartment.

Padawan Vos knocked hard on the door and called out, “Obi-Wan! Answer the door! Is this any way to treat your best, closest, most adorable, loving friend? I’m gonna stand here and yell ‘til you open the door.” Then he threatened, “I’m going to sing, too.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Yoda interrupted. “I thought you and Master Tholme would not return from your mission for several more days.”

Padawan Vos grinned at Yoda. “We finished early. I thought I’d surprise Obi-Wan, but I think he’s asleep.” He laughed, showing off bright white teeth. “I bet he fell asleep doing his schoolwork, again.”

Yoda’s hand tightened on his walking stick. He knew very well that Obi-Wan and Padawan Vos were close. They were radically different in temperament - Padawan Vos being a well-known trouble maker, while Obi-Wan kept his trouble-making discreet - but they got on very well.

“I would like to have a word with you and your Master. Please, come with me and I’ll send for him.”

While Padawan Vos was clearly surprised, he didn’t argue. He did look at the door of Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s apartment with suspiciously narrowed eyes before he followed Yoda into his own apartment. Once the door closed behind him, he asked, “What’s going on? Is this about Obi-Wan? I can’t even feel him in his apartment, he’s shielding really hard. Is he in trouble? Am I in trouble? I’m usually in trouble, so it’s probably me.”

Yoda hushed him and sent for Master Tholme. “Sit. I will tell you both when your Master is here.” He left it unsaid that he thought Quinlan might need his Master when Yoda had to tell him the distressing news.

Young Padawan Vos, only two weeks away from taking his Trials, had ever been a youngling of high spirits, prone to innocent mischief and jesting. Yoda had, more than once, caught his great-grand Padawan in some trouble with Quinlan right at his side and he had yet to decide which of the pair was the leader and which was the follower who eagerly trailed their friend into trouble. Perhaps they shared the roles.

Little Quinlan was no quite so little, anymore. Unlike Obi-Wan, who was naturally a bit small for a human male of his age, Quinlan had hit a rather impressive growth-spurt, recently, and stood a good two inches taller than his Master. He also wore his robes, an unusual choice for the boy who often preferred to wear dark leather and keep his arms bare. That day, though, he wore the white uniform other Padawans wore and his brown robe. Perhaps he’d had to wear them for the mission he’d just returned from or perhaps, like many Senior Padawans on the verge of Knighthood, he wanted to look more mature.

When Quinlan’s Master, Master Tholme, arrived, he gave Yoda a polite bow, then sat beside Quinlan on the floor. Yoda sat across from them. Tholme had never been what one might call a cheery man, but he was a good man and an excellent Jedi Shadow who had trained Quinlan very well.

“Grand Master Yoda,” Master Tholme said, his voice deep and soft. “We’ve only recently returned, but I’ve already heard rumors. Is it true? About Master Jinn?”

Yoda told them. He fought away the pain when he had to speak of Qui-Gon’s death on Naboo at the hands of a Sith, about how Obi-Wan had bravely fought the Sith. He told them about Little Anakin Skywalker and the war on Naboo and Obi-Wan and little Anakin being lost. He told them of Senator Palpatine’s words and behavior. He told them about the plan to abandon Coruscant, should Chancellor Palpatine continue his outrageous demands.

“Is it younglings in general he’s after,” Master Tholme asked. “Or is it specifically Obi-Wan and the Skywalker boy?”

“That isn’t certain. He is not to have contact with anyone below the rank of Knight.”

Padawan Vos had come to the Order later than most and had more than a little trouble controlling his emotions. The feelings of grief and fear and anger boiled around him until he took a breath and pushed them away. “I liked Master Jinn. He was always kind. Did... do you think he suffered?”

“Whether he suffered or not is no longer important. He is one with the Force and he is now, and forever, at peace. We rejoice for him.”

Quinlan nodded and sniffed. “Yes, Grand Master Yoda. And Obi-Wan fought a Sith?” He shook his head and tried to laugh, but it came out weak. “He’s such an overachiever. We need to get to Obi-Wan, fast. He needs us.”

“More than you know.” Yoda leaned forward a little and put a hand on Quinlan’s arm. “He was exposed to Arkon Waves on Naboo. He has Arkon Poisoning.”

Quinlan’s shields faltered, minutely. “And we can’t find him.”

“We believe he is in the territory of the Mandalorian Empire. A rescue party has already arrived at the border, close to where the last known transmission from Obi-Wan’s ship was traced. They have the antidote. We must not give up on them.”

Master Tholme sent a comforting surge through the Force to his Padawan. He asked, “What can we do to help, Master Yoda?”

“Master Nu requires help with the Archives. The books and datapads will be copied, with one being stored on the ship of the ExplorCorps and one being given to the EduCorps. Most of that work can be done by Senior Padawans, but there is much in the Archives that Padawans shouldn’t be exposed to. Those dangerous artifacts must be moved onto the ship of the EduCorps. You are the head of the Shadows.”

Master Tholme nodded. “Send Padawans to handle the items available to all rank levels. My Shadows will deal with what is dangerous.”

The Jedi Shadows often dealt with the darker side of life and would be mentally prepared to handle such things as were stored in the depths of the Archives. Yoda was grateful for their service, for the risks they took to keep others safe.

“I have a separate mission for you.”

Master Tholme and Quinlan waited, attentively.

“I will, of course, give you the option of sending Quinlan to the Service Corps ships with the other younglings.”

Master Tholme almost smiled. “We both know he won’t go.”

Yoda glanced at Qinlan and saw a fleeting grin before he schooled his face into a neutral set that Yoda didn’t believe in the slightest. The little rascal.

“If the Chancellor,” Yoda said, “breaks the Ruusan Reformation, we have every legal right to break ties with the Republic. However, if the Chancellor feels petty, which I have every expectation of him being, then he could easily make things difficult for us by telling the citizens of the Republic that we abandoned them.”

Master Tholme nodded with understanding, “And if they believe it, they won’t want to hire Jedi and we will have a very difficult time earning a living. If we have civil relations with the citizens of the Republic, then we can still work where the Force bids us to. It is bad enough now when the Senate can restrict where we work, but to not be able to work in the Republic at all... many of our people would find that distressing.”

Padawan Vos asked, “Do you think he’ll try to make the people of the Republic believe we’re a threat to them?”

Honestly, Yoda said, “I don’t know. I believe we need a strong incentive to encourage the Chancellor to let us leave peacefully and not interfere with us. An incentive that will hold enough power over him that it will be in his best interest to keep things amiable between the Senate and our Order.”

“Oh.” Quinlan smiled. “You want blackmail. I can do that. I can easily do that. Do you want real stuff of made-up stuff? I can fake some real good blackmail. Do we want this to be criminal sort of blackmail - theft or murder - or just severely embarrassing? Gamboling addiction is good, but something involving prostitutes would work, too. I can do both. Both might be fun.”

Master Tholme calmly told Quinlan, “You are not going to fake blackmail about Senator Palaptine.”

“He wants to hurt Obi-Wan and the little munchkin Obi-Wan took in. Yeah, I really can do it.”

“I know you can, but you won’t. I’m going with you and we will get honest blackmail. Why take the time to make up a lie and create evidence when the real scandal is just waiting to be found?”

“What if there is no scandal?” Yoda asked.

Master Tholme and Quinlan exchanged an amused glance. Master Tholme said, “There is scandal. There is always a scandal. Everyone has a scandal of some kind hiding in the past that they desperately don’t want to be exposed. All we have to do is find it.”

“I shall trust your expertise.” Yoda would be a fool not to. After all, Master Tholme was the most highly regarded Shadow the Temple had ever had. If there was someone who needed to be dead, he could do it. If there was information that needed to be found, he could find it. If there was a needed interrogation, he could make the suspect talk, sing, squeal, and sign a confession in duplicate. He was a true genius at his calling and he had been a diligent, careful Master with young Quinlan.

“You must remember,” Master Tholme told Quinlan. “Never lie when a truth will be far more effective.”

Quinlan huffed. “But I like lying.” He sighed. “Oh, fine. I can get the info in three days if we go to Naboo.”

Master Tholme said, “Do it in two days and I’ll let you blow up a ship.”

“Done.” Quinlan nodded sharply as they sealed the deal.

‘Yes,’ Yoda thought, contentedly. ‘Such a nice boy. Good influence on Obi-Wan.’

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 27: Water

Anakin-

Back in Boss Jaster’s apartment in the Fortress, where they had gone straight after being at the Landing Field, Anakin sat on the floor of the sleeping room he’d been using and sorted through the basket of small debris he’d brought back from Obi-Wan’s ruined ship.

Someone had tried to kill Obi-Wan.

Anakin picked up another piece of the blown-up ship and ran his fingers over the cool, shiny surface. Boss Jaster’s people had transported the larger parts of the ship to a hanger where it would all be stored and Jango’s friend, Silas, had even promised to lock the door so no one would steal it and that was good because it really was worth so much. If the Jedi still didn’t want Anakin then maybe Obi-Wan would give him some of the broken ship and he could use it to buy food and stuff. Because Anakin had wanted to help with the clean-up, he’d been given a basket to collect the smaller bits in.

Someone had tried to kill Obi-Wan. Just like the pirates. The pirates shot at the ship and Obi-Wan hit his head and there was blood everywhere.

Anakin shook his head and bit in the inside of his cheek to make himself concentrate on his work. He used the sleeve of the black undersuit he wore to clean a piece of the hull. It was made of mirrorlite and it polished up real pretty. Melted down, he knew, it could be reformed into something else without losing any of that valuable shine.

“I don’t think you understand what you went through,” Boss Jaster said.

Anakin paused in his cleaning to listen. The door of the sleeping room was open and he could see where Boss Jaster, Jango, and Obi-Wan sat in the main room. Ever since they’d returned from the landing field, the three of them had been talking.

“I was there,” Obi-Wan protested, politely. “I know exactly what I went through.”

“I think you may be repressing traumatic memories. Do you want to see Doctor Xi? We can go now.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “That’s very kind, but I’ve already spoken with healers at the Temple. I’m quite well.”

Jango grumbled, “You had a flashback at the landing field, didn’t you? When you didn’t know that Anakin and I were trying to talk to you?”

“It was a bad memory, but nothing that can’t be dealt with. Melida/Daan was a long time ago.”

“You said you were thirteen. That was only six years ago.” Boss Jaster abruptly stood up and stomped around the room with an angry pace. “That’s barely the blink of an eye! What’s going on there, now, I’d like to know. Why have I never heard of this war before? We need better surveillance on the Republic if this is the type of thing that goes on. And it was condoned? A centuries old war is understandable as are ancient grudges and stubborn refusal to give any consideration to defeat, but... but they waged war on their own children? It’s just... I think I’m going to be sick. Why was nothing ever done to stop it?”

“Jedi can only get involved if the Senate allows it. When they finally allowed us to go to Melida/Daan it was almost too late. The planet’s ecosystem was nearly destroyed and the population had dwindled. In a few more generations, I think they would have wiped themselves out. I don’t know why we weren’t asked to help sooner. We would have. Such service is our purpose.”

“And you can only get involved when you’re allowed to because they’ll punish your people if you don’t obey.” Boss Jaster’s hand tightened into a fist. “I begin to see how the Republic functions. We will go to Melida/Daan when the Solstice Storm ends. I know you said the Young won their war, but I would see for myself that there are no more ad being killed.”

Someone had tried to kill Obi-Wan. Just like on Melida/Daan. He’d been in a war. Not just a fight, but a real war. People dying all around and he might have died, too. He might have died on some far away planet in a war so terrible that the memory of it had sent Obi-Wan into a flashback.

“Oh, you don’t have to,” Obi-Wan said, quickly. “We’ve got eyes on it, now. It’s doing well.”

“What do you mean?” Jango asked. “I was in the Republic just after the Melida/Daan war ended. I went to that planet and it was a nightmare, but they were starting to rebuild and everything seemed under control. I didn’t see any Jetti there.”

Boss Jaster swung around to stare at Jango. “You knew about this?”

“Yes, and I didn’t tell you because it was over by then and I knew you’d be angry that you couldn’t do anything about it.”

“You didn’t see any Jedi there, Jango, because we weren’t there. The Jedi didn’t have Senate approval to go to Melida/Daan once the war was over.” Obi-Wan pulled his hands into the sleeves of his robe. “I expect you were looking for brown robes and lightsabers, weren’t you?” When Jango nodded, Obi-Wan said, “I didn’t mean to say that Jedi were on Melida/Daan, but our people are there. There is a part of the Jedi Order whose members aren’t technically Jedi. Since they aren’t actually Jedi, the Senate has no control over them. This part of the Jedi Order is called the ‘Service Corps’ and they’re taking care of Melida/Daan. The EduCorps are teaching the younglings and giving aid to surviving adults so they’ll be able to live in a world without war. The AgriCorps are healing the planet. The MediCorps worked to heal those wounded in the war. The ExplorCorps were the first to get there and they help to keep the peace. It’s been a few years and things are still rocky, but it’s much better than it was.” He paused. “I’ll ask you to keep all this in confidence. I’m fairly certain the Senate doesn’t actually know about the Service Corps and we’d like to keep it that way.”

Boss Jaster rubbed his face with both hands. “And so many died before it got better. You nearly died there.”

Someone had tried to kill Obi-Wan. Like the pirates. Like the Sith. He remembered the Sith from Tatooine. He’d attacked Master Jinn in the desert, the very first time Anakin had met Obi-Wan, and how scary he’d been. The Sith later killed Master Jinn and tried so hard to kill Obi-Wan.

Again, Anakin shook his head. ‘Stop daydreaming!’ He scolded himself. ‘Work. Gotta keep working. Good, valuable people work hard.’ In the back of his mind lurked the thought that if he was valuable, then perhaps Obi-Wan might forgive what he had done during the battle of Naboo.

Someone tried to kill Obi-Wan. His own mom. Anakin had been right there at the yaim be bajur when Obi-Wan told Bo-Katan that his mom had tried to kill him. Anakin understood why Obi-Wan had said it - he’d wanted to prove that Jedi weren’t child-snatchers and that sometimes kids weren’t safe with their original families - but Obi-Wan didn’t lie so it must have been the truth. His own mom had tried to kill him and he’d been so young that he didn’t even remember it which meant he had been a baby. A baby. His mom had tried to kill baby Obi-Wan.

Anakin’s mom had once held him on her lap after a long, terrible day. “My treasure.” Her soft voice whispered the words. “You are special. You are important. I am so happy to be your mom.” Her hands were warm and she smiled so gently. Just like that, Anakin’s terrible day had been so much better. That was how a mom should be. He couldn’t imagine having a mom who didn’t love him. Even if she was so far away, he knew she love him.

Anakin sniffled and rubbed his itchy eyes.

In the other room, Aranar walked restlessly around, as if it could feel the tension. Then it broke off and went into the sleeping room with Anakin, laying down at his side where he could pat it and Kal, the pup clinging to its’ parent’s back. Aranar leaned lightly against Anakin. It made a soft rumbly sound - like a purr - and Anakin put the metal scrap back in the basket. As ever, Aranar was warm and its fur was soft. He leaned over and rested his cheek against Aranar’s back and he felt some of the hot, ugly mess of feelings in his gut ease.

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan walked in. He took one look at Anakin cuddling with Aranar and sat next to Anakin on the floor. It took him a minute. He was slow and unsteady. He still hadn’t really recovered from being sick. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m cold.” Because Jedi weren’t supposed to be afraid.

Obi-Wan took off his robe and lay it on Anakin like a blanket. “You’re not a very good liar, my dear. I think something else is bothering you.”

“People keep trying to kill you.”

“Oh... Anakin. I’m a Jedi and...”

“Maybe this person didn’t want to kill you?” Anakin suggested, hopefully. “Maybe it was an accident, like those Death Watch people dropped the wrong bomb and it hit Padme’s ship, but then they dropped the right one afterwards. That would explain everything, right? Or maybe someone just wanted to break stuff. Sometimes I do that. I get angry a lot. I guess I can’t do that, anymore, right? Jedi don’t get angry. But sometimes I get so angry at everything that I break things. I don’t break master’s stuff, though. I only ever got that angry once and Watto gave mom a beating ‘cause of me. I don’t do that anymore.” Anakin sat up and leaned against Obi-Wan. “I won’t get angry. I’ll work really hard at it and I won’t break your stuff, either. Promise.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a long time. He slowly curled an arm around Anakin. “As a Jedi, there are a lot of people who don’t like me. Even on Mandalore, where people are being so kind to us, there are people who don’t like me just because I’m a Jedi. I have to do things that some people don’t like. I don’t believe that destroying the ship was meant to kill me as I haven’t been on the ship for days, but people have tried to kill me in the past.”

“I know. I heard. You should close doors if you want to keep secrets. Does Boss Jaster and Jango know about your mom?”

“What?”

“Well, if they don’t like kids being in danger ‘cause of a war, then they’d get real upset ‘cause your mom tried to kill you. I heard you tell Bo-Katan, but I don’t know if Boss Jaster was close enough to hear. I think it would make him angry, don’t you?”

Obi-Wan blinked and rubbed his chin, as he did when he started thinking too hard. “I suppose you’re right. Best not to tell them, then.”

“Isn’t that lying?”

“Certainly not. We don’t lie to our friends. It’s just using discretion about when and if to distribute information. After all, that was a long time ago and it will only make them unhappy. We don’t want them to be unhappy.” He sighed. “I’m sorry you had to hear it. I’m trained to be an ambassador, I just can’t think what’s making me so chatty lately. If it makes you feel better, Jango is going to be looking for the person who blew up the ship. He told me he’s rather good at finding people.”

“He’s a bounty hunter.”

Obi-Wan blinked at him. “How do you know that?”

“He wears a guild badge on his belt.” The Bounty Hunter Guild was one of the most active businesses on Tatooine and Anakin had learned to recognize them a long time ago. “Anyone in the Bounty Hunter’s Guild is a real professional. I bet he catches them.” But that didn’t stop the fact that everyone seemed to be trying to kill Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan was so used to it that it didn’t seem to bother him at all. Anakin was going to have to work really hard to learn all about being a Jedi and a Mandalorian so he could protect Obi-Wan. “How long until we go to the Temple?”

“Just a little longer. We’ve been here four days, now, so we only have to wait six more days.”

“Two weeks is sixteen days, isn’t it?”

“Not here. On Tatooine, two weeks would be sixteen days, but on Mandalore two weeks is ten days. Time is measured differently on different planets. When we get to Coruscant, you’ll find that two weeks is fourteen days.”

“So, only six days?”

“Six days until the Solstice Storm ends and then we can at least communicate with the Temple. Now, I don’t want you to worry about me. I actually came into see if you’d like a little treat?”

Anakin’s eyes lit up. “A treat?”

“Yes. Jaster is getting ready for his first Challenge Match. It’s going to be in about an hour and it’s very important to both Jaster and Satine. Since they’ve been so kind to us, we’re going to show our support.”

“Like we did for Padme at the big ceremony after the battle?”

“Exactly like that. This time, we’ll be watching Jaster fight instead of a parade, though. We’re going to be respectful for them, but there’s not much we can do. It’s all set up, I’ve been told. What we can do is be as clean as possible.” He grinned at Anakin. “How would you like to wash with water?”

***

Obi-Wan filled the fresher’s sink with water.

It rushed out of the faucet with disturbing power. As the level of water in the sink rose and rose, Anakin twisted his fingers together, anxiously. What if it overflowed and spilled on the floor?

Finally, Obi-Wan turned off the water. Then he took a small cloth from a cabinet above the sink. “We don’t have a lot of time, so I thought you could just do a quick wash - hands and face - before Jaster’s Challenge Match.” He handed the small cloth to Anakin and gestured to the sink. “Go on.”

It took Anakin a minute to realize exactly what Obi-Wan meant. He stood there, the cloth in his hand, and stared at the water. “You... you want me to wash... with water?”

“Yes.”

“All that water?”

“Yes.”

Anakin shifted his weight from foot to foot. “That’s a lot of water.”

“It’s only a few inches. What’s wrong? You were excited about the idea of having a real water shower when we talked about it on Naboo.”

But that had been on Naboo. On Tatooine, the idea of washing with water was a far-off fantasy, but not something to ever expect in life. Even the free people on Tatooine didn’t wash with water unless they were as rich as Diamyo Jabba. On Naboo the idea of washing with water was exciting, another new thrill to add to his suddenly adventure filled life. But standing in front of the sink full of water was... it was too much.

Anakin took a step away from the sink. “I don’t think this is a good idea. I’ll use the sonic.”

“The sonic?” Obi-Wan sat on the side of a large tub with a faucet hanging over it. Anakin could only guess that the tub was meant to hold water from the faucet, but he couldn’t imagine what use it could be. “It’s not cold, if that’s what you’re worried about. The water’s warm. Feel it.” To demonstrate, Obi-Wan dipped his fingers in the water.

Even in his agitation, Anakin appreciated that Obi-Wan had remembered Anakin didn’t like being cold. He was so good.

“But I don’t need to and it’s so much. What if we need it to drink later?”

“Oh. Is that the trouble?” Obi-Wan told him, “There is no danger of running out of water on Mandalore. I know Mandalore looks a lot like Tatooine, right now, but this planet actually has a lot of water. Deep under the ground there are huge oceans filled with fresh water. And this water,” he gestured at the sink. “Will go down the drain when we’re finished with it. It will travel through pipes until it gets to a water treatment facility. This water will be cleaned and it will be sent back out to be used by someone else. It won’t be wasted if we use it.”

That sounded like a bunch of rot to Anakin, but he couldn’t say that to Obi-Wan.

“I know I said I’d like to try it,” Anakin said, slowly, still staring at the water. “But I don’t think we should.” There was enough water in the sink to keep him and his mom alive for days! “Boss Jaster won’t like it.”

“Boss Jaster told us to get ready for the Challenge Match and, for us, that means getting clean. We’re the first Jedi most Mandalorians have ever seen, so we must make a good impression and let them see our people in the best possible light. You can think of this as a mission, if you like. Our mission is to improve cultural relations between our people and the Mandalorians.”

Anakin crossed his arms. “I think Boss Jaster made a mistake. He probably meant for us to just make sure we got clean clothes on or something. Water is for drinking.”

Obi-Wan was quiet for a moment, then he took the cloth from Anakin. He very slowly, as if he didn’t want to spook Anakin, submerged the cloth in the water. Then he pulled it out and squeezed the cloth hard until a lot of water drained out of it and back into the sink. He put the cloth to his face and wiped it all over until his face was shiny with water.

“It’s not a waste,” Obi-Wan said. “And you are worth using water.” He dipped the cloth in the water and wrung it out, again. Then he held it out to Anakin. “Trust me. No one will be angry.”

And Anakin did trust Obi-Wan. He trusted Obi-Wan to the end of the universe and back. He took the cloth from Obi-Wan and marveled at the warmth of the water. It felt wonderful in his hands. Then, just as Obi-Wan had shown him, he put the cloth to his face and wiped at it. His skin felt strange after. Washing with water didn’t feel at all like using a sonic to get clean. When he handed the cloth back to Obi-Wan, he was rewarded with a smile.

“Next lesson is washing hands.” Obi-Wan picked up a small white block of something that had been sitting in a little dish on the side of the sink. “This is soap.”

Soap, Anakin discovered, was wonderful. It made bubbles.

“I don’t suppose you’d let me wash your hair?” Obi-Wan asked after Anakin had finished playing with the soap.

The idea of sticking his head under the faucet and letting water just run all over him was too much so Obi-Wan got a comb wet and used it to comb Anakin’s hair. It wasn’t as good as ‘properly’ washing his hair, but it would have to do. When it was done. Obi-Wan sat on the floor. “Come and sit with me. Would you like me give you another braid?”

Anakin nodded. “Yes! I only took it out on the ship when you were sick because Boss Jaster was coming to save us and you said people kidnap Jedi kids and sell them. But everyone here knows we’re Jedi so I guess it doesn’t matter if I wear a braid or not, right?”

“Exactly.” It only took a few minutes to braid Anakin’s hair, but Obi-Wan didn’t seem to be in a hurry to do it. “I remember Master Qui-Gon doing this for me. He would often take me to the Room of a Thousand Fountains to braid my hair - it was so peaceful.”

“Tell me more about being a Jedi?” Anakin asked while Obi-Wan braided.

“Living in the Temple,” Obi-Wan started. “Is very calm. It’s so old, but everything about the Temple is just right. There are many rooms of gardens at the top of the Temple filled with so many different types of flowers and plants and life that there are many who would wish to spend their whole lives there. Most everyone starts at the Temple as a very small younglings, infants, mostly. They stay with a group of agemates until they are chosen by a Master or they move to the Service Corps. After you’re chosen as a Padawan you’ll live with your Master, but you’ll still get to see your friends. I’m still very close with many of the initiates I knew as a youngling. Someday, you’ll meet my friend, Quinlan.” He kept talking until Boss Jaster appeared in the doorway of the room.

“I need to go, now. Do you two want to come or would you like to stay here to tell stories?” The way he said made Anakin know, without doubt, that he wouldn’t mind a bit if they wanted to stay behind to tell stories.

Obi-Wan stood up. He pulled his robe on and straightened it until it hung just right. “We’re at your disposal. Please, lead the way.”

Later-
Obi-Wan-

They collected Satine before leaving to go to Jaster’s first big match. Jaster knocked on the door of her room and when she answered, Obi-Wan felt his breath catch, just a little. She did not wear one of the big, fussy gowns she would normally wear, but did wear the black undersuit she had worn the other day and a long, pale blue tunic over it. Compared to what she usually wore, it was plain, but Obi-Wan appreciated the simplicity.

She didn’t ask for anyone’s approval on her choice of clothes, but looked Jaster square in the eye, as if daring him to object, and said, “I have been informed that this would be typical for a Mandalorian to wear if she’s not wearing armor.”

Jaster smiled with clear fondness. “You look very nice. Shall we go?”

***

The Challenge Arena was immense. They had to leave the city to get to it, going through another set of gates in the glass dome on the opposite side of the city from where the landing field was. A short hike into the desert brought them to a large, square area marked on four corners by large, stone pillars nearly forty feet high. Around that marked area was a huge amount of seating that raised up the further it got away from the marked off area, presumably so the people in the back could see what was going on.

“Right,” Jango explained as they walked to the seating area. “That,” he pointed to the empty area marked off by four large stone pillars on each corner. “Is the fighting field. No one is allowed there except the people who are fighting. Jaster and his opponents will be there and if they leave that area during their match, they will be disqualified.” Then he gestured to the stone benches that almost completely surrounded the fighting field. “This is where the audience will sit. It’s nearly full now, but there are broadcasting devices here that will show the match to everyone across the whole Empire. There’s room for thousands to sit in attendance and I won’t be surprised if the whole city turns up.”

Anakin stayed close to Obi-Wan as they followed Jango though the crowds. Jango kept looking around and his hand was on his blaster. Obi-Wan knew very well that Jango was there not only to support his father, but as a guard. Satine was still in danger from whoever had bruised her arms and they now had to be on the lookout for whoever had blown up Padme’s ship.

They went to sit on the benches right next to the fighting field. Satine said, “Family of the combatants get the best seats. If we looked hard enough, we could find the challenger’s family somewhere else on the ground-level seats.”

Obi-Wan thankfully sat. He was tired from the morning’s excursion to the landing field, the confrontation with Jaster and Jango afterwards to explain Melida/Daan to them, and then trying to convince Anakin that he didn’t need to be afraid of using water.

There was also the matter of politics to consider. Obi-Wan sat quietly, listening to people around him and wishing the Force could tell him anything about the situation. It would be good for everyone in both the Mandalorian Empire and the Republic if Jaster became Mand’alor. He was a good man and that alone put him far above many others who might want to take the title. He was reasonable and sensible, so it was possible that relations between the Republic and Mand’alor might improve. He was already sure that Master Windu would prefer to speak with Jaster rather than many of the Senators he had to deal with.

‘Ori’vod!”

Shaken out of his thoughts by the high-pitched cry, Obi-Wan looked to his left and saw little Bo-Katan charging towards them. She crashed into Satine’s knees with a flurry of, “I was so worried about you? Did you get to see the explosion? I wish I had!”

Naturally, Bo-Katan wasn’t alone. Teacher Frewn followed right behind her. “Ad,” Teacher Frewn said, exasperated. “You know you’re not supposed to run away when we are on a field trip.”

“Yes,” Bo-Katan gestured wildly at Satine. “But! But! I wanna sit with her!”

“I know, but you still need to wait.”

Bo-Katan grumpily threw her arms around Satine. “Please!”

Satine ran a hand over Bo-Katan’s hair. “I don’t mind. If it’s no trouble to you, she can stay.”

“As you wish.” Teacher Frewn nodded. “Our whole yaim be bajur is here to see what will happen. I’ll come collect her when the match is over.”

Jaster and the challenger arrived at the same moment, fully armored. They walked to the center of the sand covered fighting field and stood there, side-by-side. A third Mandalorian walked out to meet them, then said, in Mando’a, in a voice amplified so much that every person in the audience could hear them, “I am Verd Jek and I have been chosen by both parties to judge this match. This match is between Alor Jaster Mereel and Alor Selep of clan Hydon for the title of Mand’alor. As is custom, the challenger has the privilege of deciding what weapons to use. Alor Selep has chosen bare handed combat.” Verd Jek walked to the edge of the fighting field, then barked out, “Fight!”

The battle, right from the beginning, was savage. The clank of beskar against beskar, the sight of two warriors struggling to prove who was best... it was an amazing sight. They wrestled, they brawled, they threw punches and kicks. But there were no blasters, blades, or any other type of weapon. It was so intense that Obi-Wan began to worry for Anakin. Anakin had seen terrible things in his life and it was clear that he was plagued by many of them, he feared so much that Obi-Wan didn’t want Anakin to witness such violence if it was only going to add to his trauma.

“Anakin, dear,” Obi-Wan started to turn to where Anakin had been sitting between him and Jango. “This is going to be a little rough. Are you alright?”

Anakin, who had, at some point, moved to sitting on Jango’s shoulders, threw his arms in the air and screamed, “Yay! Go Jaster! Kick his shebs!”

“A-Anakin!” Obi-Wan said, aghast. “That kind of language- ”

“It’s okay,” Anakin told him, grinning. “Boss Jaster promised no one’s gonna die today, so we can just have fun.” He turned back to cheering, wildly.

Bo-Kata stood on her seat next to Satine and yelled, as she jumped up and down, “Kandosii! Kandosii!”

Obi-Wan blinked. Well... at least Anakin was starting to learn Mando’a.

Satine sat on Obi-Wan’s left, between him and Bo-Katan, and was outwardly so very relaxed at the spectacle in front of her that Obi-Wan was impressed. He leaned close and asked, “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Just fine. The fact that Jaster could be killed and leave us with some unknown party in control of all the Mandalorian Empire and, at this point, there’s nothing I can do about it, isn’t causing me any stress at all.” Her hands were perfectly relaxed on her lap and there wasn’t a single indication of stress at all. She was even smiling. “I hate all this.”

“And yet you’re here.”

“How can I not be? If I don’t show my support for my choice of Mand’alor, then it would reflect badly on Alor Mereel.”

“You didn’t actually choose him, did you? I mean - I’d heard he just sort of announced that he was taking over.”

“I could have fought him. Perhaps not physically, but I could have made things difficult for him. But, as I told you, he is the best out of everyone who might have stepped forward. He has some very good plans and the will to accomplish them. I’d like to see him safety installed as Mand’alor before any other major crisis erupts.” Her eye twitched when the challenger swung hard and nearly knocked Jaster down.

The Challenge Match went on for a good long while, an indication of a fair match up, Jango had explained. The crowds roared their excitement, no matter who they cheered for.

Without warning, Jaster got close enough to his opponent to grab him by the helmet. Then he yanked his opponent’s head down at the same time as he raised one of his knees. His knee and the opponent’s head met with a hard ring of metal striking metal. When Jaster released his opponent’s head, his opponent went down, face-first, into the sand.

The judge, still staying off the fighting field, held out one arm and began to count, swinging her arm down with every count, as if to make sure that even those sitting far away could see what she was doing. “One, Two, Three!” And when she stopped counting, the challenger was still on the ground, still unconscious.

Jaster threw both hands in the arms and let out a victorious howl of, “Oya!”

There was an answering cheer from the audience.

Satine, despite how all the Mandalorians’ around her boisterously celebrated the win, clapped politely and remained sitting. She sighed. “Finally. One is over with. Only two more to go.” She turned to look at Obi-Wan, relieved. “And we can look forward to the Festival of Stars tomorrow.”

To Be Continued...

Translation:

Ad - child
Shebs - backside
Kandosii - nice one
Oya - triumphant cheer

Chapter Text

A/N: This chapter is for those of you who don’t hate Trion, yet.

Chapter 28 - Watching

Trion Lubek-

For the first time in years, Trion put on his armor. In the privacy of a small house on the outskirts of Keldabe, a house he had paid rent on for more than twenty years, he went to a closet. It was locked and took a physical key to unlock it. He had worn that key around his neck for as long as he had rented the house. As was to be expected, the house had not been disturbed since the last time he’d been there. Everything was covered in a fine coating of dust and tiny insects had been comfortable enough to build their homes in the corners of the house.

The wardrobe he kept his armor in unlocked easily enough and when he saw his armor, exactly as he’d left it, he stared. He had not even seen it for years.

He took his time putting it on, every piece needed to be cleaned and polished and only after it had been, he put it on. Before long, he was once again armored. It was heavy and felt like it weighted him down, anchoring him. Lastly, he put on his helmet. He checked all the controls of his armor, all the senor readings, to make sure everything was working as it should and only when he was certain of that did he leave the little house.

No one had seen him go in and no one had seen him leave. He’d make sure of that.
Walking through Keldabe in armor gave him a certain sense of invisibility. His armor was dully painted, all beige and brown and gray. There were no distinctive markings, no clan markings or paint to signal anything about him.

He reached the Fighting Field along with a crowd of other spectators and slipped into the group to enter the arena, completely ignored by everyone. He went to the upper most row of seats, far above the Fighting Field and well away from the noisy crowds who wanted to be as close to the action as possible.

From where he sat, he could enhance the optics on his helmet and see Satine in the front row, dutifully watching the match. She was dressed strangely. Just a simple tunic over a black undersuit. She wore nothing extra - no jewelry or hair decorations. Her fair hair hung to her shoulders, straight and plain. He watched her speak with Jango Fett until Fett sat on one side of her. It was infuriating to have him around. He was always too close, so close that Trion couldn’t even speak with Satine privately unless he was very clever about it.

When someone sat next to him, Trion didn’t so much as look at them. He kept staring at Satine.

“This isn’t going as I planned.”

Still, Trion didn’t look away from Satine. “It will. We’ll figure it out.”

“You told me that Kryze wouldn’t be a problem.”

“And she won’t be. She relies on me entirely. She’ll do as I wish.”

“And yet she invited Mereel here. She’s made it known that she wants him to be Mand’alor.”

“She’s young and headstrong. She made a poor choice without consulting me. It was a rash choice. She won’t do such a thing, again.”

“No. She won’t.” The newcomer leaned forward, tapping his fingers restlessly on his knees. “She is a liability. And she fraternizes with Jetti.”

Trion looked across the Fighting Field, entirely ignoring the fight, and watched as the Jetti boy leaned in close and whispered something to Satine. She whispered back. They were altogether too close! He was practically pressed against her side. He was Jetti - where did he get off thinking he could be so familiar with the leader of Mandalore? Because that was what Satine was. No matter what Mereel wanted or did, no matter what anyone else said, Satine was the ruler because she was the only one worthy.

The Jetti would have to go.

“Making Satine the ruler of Mandalore wasn’t a mistake. She’s served our purposes admirably and she will continue to do so once the bad influences have been removed. After all, who else would you have in her place?” He finally tore his gaze away from Satine to look at the other man. “She’s exactly who you need leading the Empire. She’s uneducated and dependent on me and I can keep her that way. She’s also still so young that no respectable verd will challenge her for her position. Anyone who would fight an untrained child would never be accepted by the people. That she decided to give the Empire to Mereel was entirely unforeseen, but it can be dealt with and she will be secure as the only leader the Empire has.”

The other man’s eyes hardened. “For now.”

The implied threat made Trion’s brain burn. “When you make your move, just remember our agreement. Satine is mine.”

“I won’t forget, so long as you keep things running in Keldabe the way I want them to go. Understand?”

“Yes, Alor Vizla.”

***

It was late when Trion return to the Fortress after Mereel’s victory at the Fighting Field. He’d had to secretly make his way back to his rented house and hide his armor, then wait until he could leave without being seen. He had duties to attend to and so, without his armor and as defenseless as any of the idiot New Mandalorians, he went back to work. Mereel’s people, who called themselves ‘True Mandalorians’, were everywhere. Without his ship, all of Mereel’s people had taken to the Fortress when they weren’t off duty and in their barracks. There was armor on everyone and on every one of them Trion saw the image of the Mythosaur skull - Mereel’s chosen symbol - proudly displayed on every shoulder.

There was work to do. He had been playing this role for far too long to ruin things with sloth. So he did what he had always done and researched the wellbeing of Keldabe, Mandalore, and the rest of the Mandalorian Empire. He’d been doing it for so many years, first for Satine’s father and later for Satine. He would inform them of trouble and concerning situations and give them advice on how to handle those problems as well as on how to best promote the idea of pacifism to the Mandalorian people. Satine’s father had been simple to influence - he had been a true believer. He had honestly and truly believed that pacifism was the correct way for Mandalorians to survive. Satine was... difficult. She was more intelligent than her father, for one. She had also been out of Trion’s influence and isolated with the Jetti boy for nearly a year. After she had returned to Keldabe and the Jetti and his Master had left, Trion could never seem to get quite the same obedience from her.

Later, when his work was done, Trion retreated to his apartment and got ready to sleep. He got down into his sleeping pit, then did what he did every night before he went to sleep. He pulled a small datapad from where he’d hidden it under the blankets of sleeping pit. It took two pass-codes and a retina scan to unlock the datapad. Once it was unlocked, he immediately got a view of Satine’s room on the screen of his datapad.

He’d had to quickly install transmitters in her new room when she’d unexpectedly changed rooms so Mereel could have the largest apartment that was, admittedly, intended for the Mand’alor. Of course, it also meant that he should have been able to collect information about the would be Mand’alor by using the existing transmitters he’d put into Satine’s previous apartment years ago, but Mereel had set up a signal jammer almost the very moment he’d taken possession of the apartment.

Satine entered her room at precisely three hours before midnight with the little aruetii trailing behind her. Satine and the younger Jetti boy spoke for a time. They ate together and then Satine started to get ready to sleep. She gave the boy a shirt to change into and had him go behind a screen while she took out a white night dress, preparing to change her clothes.

Trion watched, pleased.

Before Satine had even unfastened a single button on her outfit, there was a knock on the door. Satine put her night dress down on a chair and answered the door. She let Jango Fett in without hesitation and it was nearly as infuriating as watching her whisper with and smile at the older Jetti boy. She was clearly not as close to Jango Fett as she was with the Jetti, but the fact that she welcomed him into her room so easily, made Trion’s gut churn.

“Sorry. I forgot. I got you a present,” Jango Fett said, handing something over to Satine.

“What is it?”

“A signal jammer.”

Trion sat up, snarling.

Satine rolled her eyes. “Are you sure that’s necessary? It’s not as if I go around talking to myself about state secrets.”

“I’m completely sure it’s necessary. A little extra security goes a long way.”

“Very well. If it makes you happy.” Satine pressed a button on the jammer.

The sound was the first thing to go, then the screen on Trion’s datapad was filled with static.

Trion stared at the static and pressed his lips together. There was no point in trying anything to fix it. Unless the jammer was removed or broken, nothing he could do on his end would change anything. He would have to go to Satine’s room and... Satine’s room... yes.

An excellent idea.

Earlier -
Anakin-

Anakin had very much enjoyed Boss Jaster’s Challenge Match. It reminded him of the gladiator fights on Tatooine that Diamyo Jabba sponsored with the very nice exception that no one died. Diamyo Jabba really liked having someone die at the gladiator fights. After the Challenge Match, Boss Jaster had helped the guy he was fighting up off the ground and they talked for a minute before they clasped forearms and walked away from each other. Boss Jaster made his way to where Anakin, Obi-Wan, Satine, Bo-Katan, and Jango sat.

“Well,” Boss Jango said when he reached them. “I think that went pretty well.” He took off his helmet and he looked awful. There was blood in his hair that seeped from a slice he’d somehow gotten just over his right eyebrow. He had a bruise already darkening his left cheek, and he walked with a heavy limp. Still, he smiled. “Haven’t had such a good brawl in ages. I invited him to dinner next week; we could use more verd like him.” He ruffled Anakin and Bo-Katan’s hair at the same time. “Did you two have fun?”

“You were great!” Anakin said. The fact that no one had died was a big bonus, but he really had been impressed. While he didn’t like people dying, he could appreciate a good fight.

“Well, I think you should have broke his knee when he went down that first time,” Bo-Katan criticized, apparently not at all intimidated by Boss Jaster. “He left himself wide open - he was practically asking for it.”

“I’ll consider for the next Challenge Match,” Boss Jaster told her, seriously. Jaster looked at Bo-Katan in that same soft way he looked at Satine. “But, if I cripple a good verd now, he won’t be able to fight with me later.”

Bo-Katan thought about that, then nodded. “I guess that makes sense. I still would’a gone for the knee.”

Teacher Frewn then came to claim Bo-Katan, telling her that it was time for dinner and they need to rejoin the others to head back for the yaim be bajur.

“I’ll see you in a couple of days,” Satine promised when Bo-Katan looked like she wanted to kick up a fuss about having to leave her sister.

Anakin didn’t know if he liked Bo-Katan or not. They had fought, but he’d fought with lots of his friends on Tatooine for one reason or another. Fighting could be lots of fun. But she was loud and demanding, so much so that it seemed dangerous. If a slave acted like that, she be lucky to get away with nothing more than a beating.

There was no slavery in the Mandalorian Empire. He had to keep telling himself that and he was starting to think it was weird. That should have been an easy thing to remember but the idea that there was no slavery, no one was owned and everyone was free... it didn’t seem like real life. It seemed like at any time he would blink and he'd be back on Tatooine.

Anakin reached behind him and was reassured when he could feel the scar from having his bomb removed under the fabric of his undersuit. It was faint, because the fabric was tough, but he could definitely feel the scar. The bomb was gone. He was free.

Bo-Katan pouted up at Satine. “A couple of days? You’ll visit?”

“Actually, in a couple of days, it will be my first day of classes. I’m not sure which classes I’ll be in, yet, but I think we’ll see each other.”

Teacher Frewn said, “You will be sharing a history class. You are also scheduled to share the lunch hour so you will likely see one another in the mess hall.” She looked at Satine. “When you arrive at the yaim be bajur you will be directed to my office where we will go over the scheduled classes I’ve planned for you as well as regulations you will be expected to follow. After that, we must test your martial ability.”

Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve and when Obi-Wan leaned down to him, Anakin whispered, “What’s ‘martial’?”

“Fighting,” Obi-Wan answered. “They’re going to see how well she can fight.”

“Oh.” That made sense, considering how much Mandalorians seemed to like fighting. “Am I going to fight, too?”

“I expect so.”

“Is biting allowed?”

Teacher Frewn must have had very good hearing because she answered Anakin with, “Yes. Biting is allowed when your beginning abilities are tested. You will be permitted to use any means you can think of as that will help us to place you in the correct class. There may be times when biting is not allowed. For example, if you were in a class where you were learning swordsmanship, you would be required to use a sword instead of your teeth.”

Anakin grinned. “I’m going learn to use a lightsaber, too. Right, Obi? So I’ll be a great fighter if I can use swords and blasters and stuff, too!”

The happiness that had begun to grow in Anakin dimmed when he watched Obi-wan’s face. His eyes looked sad, though he kept smiling. Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “We’ll talk about that, later.”

“What about? Don’t you want me to -”

Anakin didn’t get to finish his question because at just that moment, Doctor Gihan found them. “Didn’t I tell you to come straight to me when you were finished?” He demanded of Boss Jaster. “I give you one direction - just one! - and you don’t listen. Do you ever listen to me? Honestly!” He went right up to Boss Jaster and grabbed his face, turning it this way and that, looking in his eyes, then in his mouth. “Did you lose any teeth? I saw that strike about five minutes in; I’m surprised he didn’t have you on your back in the dirt with how hard he hit. No. Teeth look alright, just a little blood.” He went on in that manner even as Teacher Frewn said farewell and took Bo-Katan to the yaim be bajur. He finally gave a great sigh and said, “No hope for it. You’ll come to the infirmary and have a complete exam. I know you’re hiding some injury.”

Jaster sniffed. “Would I do such a thing?”

“Yes. Now, march. You can go attend your victory party later.”

“My what?”

It turned out that Jaster’s people had decided that him winning the challenge had earned them a party and Jango was all too happy to tell him about it as they got closer to the Fortress.

“But I don’t want to go to a party,” Boss Jaster complained while Doctor Gihan herded them all in the Fortress’ infirmary where all the staff were waiting. A cheer went up until Doctor Gihan snapped at them to stop encouraging the twit who didn’t want to get his injuries tended to. Boss Jaster tried to defend himself with, “I was planning to drop by later. I just hadn’t got to it, yet.”

Obi-wan whispered to Anakin, with the voice of experience, “Never say that to any type of healer. They won’t believe it.”

Indeed, Doctor Gihan snorted. “Just sit on the exam bed and tell me where it hurts before I have you stripped to look for myself.”

It turned out that Boss Jaster had several very colorful bruises. The bruise forming on his cheek looked like it might cover almost half his face when it settled. He was very pleased with the bruise and poked at it with appreciation, as if he was trying to make it worse. He also had a broken toe and a sprained ankle. “See?” Boss Jaster said proudly. “There’s nothing to worry about. He hardly touched me.” He got off the exam bed. “Now, as I think I did very well today, I’m going reward myself.”

“You’re going to the party?” Jango asked.

Boss Jaster wrinkled his nose. “No. There’s a new research paper by Grifin Tarkal I’ve been meaning to read. Apparently, they found evidence of pre-settlement art found in the ruins near Tesok and it’s going to change everything we know about the historical context of the Madral Analysis done two centuries ago.”

Jango sighed. “A raging party in your honor to celebrate you getting one step closer to taking the title of Mand’alor and you’re going to be reading about ancient art? I am entirely not surprised.”

“Are YOU going to the party?” Boss Jaster asked, pointedly.

“Of course not.” Jango put his nose in the air. “I have work to do. There’s a blown up ship and someone’s,” he looked sharply at Satine. “Bruised arms to get to the bottom of. I don’t have have time for a party.”

“You just don’t want to socialize.”

“True.”

They were ready to leave, walking to the door, when Obi-Wan fell. It happened so suddenly that even Obi-Wan looked surprised when he found himself on the floor. Anakin tried to help him up, but Boss Jaster was able to easily pick Obi-Wan up and deposit him on one of the exam beds.

“It’s nothing, it’s nothing,” Obi-Wan protested. “Just went a little weak in the knees for a minute. It’ll pass.”

Doctor Gihan scowled. “Then you won’t mind having a thorough exam, since it’s nothing and will pass.” Doctor Gihan glanced at Anakin, then pressed a button on the armor he wore on his arm. He said something in it in Mando’a, then started looking Obi-Wan all over and asking questions.

The door in the infirmary that led to the rooms where they had gone to do the therapy that Boss Jaster thought was so important opened and out walked Anakin’s therapist, Doctor Kretkin. Doctor Kretkin had asked a bad question that made Anakin get mad. And then Anakin had acted like a little kid and stomped around and hit Obi-Wan.

Doctor Kretkin didn’t show any sign than he remembered Anakin’s awful behavior, but smiled at him. He walked around the area where Obi-Wan was getting looked at as if he didn’t see what was happening and went straight to Anakin. “Hello, Anakin. Did you have fun at the Challenge Match? I didn’t expect to see you until our next appointment.”

Doctor Kretkin seemed nice enough and Anakin had liked him pretty well until he’d asked the bad question that made Anakin feel ugly inside. No matter how ugly he’d felt inside, Anakin thought of his bad manners that first day when they’d met and cringed. Therefore, he resolved to be nice. Obi-Wan would be nice, after all. Determined to prove that he wasn’t some little kid who didn’t know how to act around their betters, he bowed his head and said, “Good day, sir.”

“How are you? I heard you’d gotten hurt during the attack. You were sleeping at the time, but I was helping with the wounded. Are you feeling better?”

“I’m okay.” He was kind of embarrassed everyone kept talking about it. He’d only gotten thrown into a wall and got his bell rung a little. He’d been hurt MUCH worse than that before he’d left Tatooine. He almost said that part out loud but he’d been noticing that Mandalorians were sensitive. Every time he wanted to talk about his life on Tatooine, they got upset. “I’m waiting for my Obi. He fell. We got to watch Boss Jaster’s big fight.”

“I saw it, too. Very impressive.” He looked to where Doctor Gihan was still talking to Obi-Wan. “Looks like this might take a while. Come sit with me.” They didn’t leave the infirmary, but went to sit at a little table at the other end where Anakin couldn’t hear what Doctor Gihan and Obi-Wan were talking about. Doctor Kretkin took from his pocket bunch of little wooden blocks of all kinds of shapes and sizes. He put them on the table in front of Anakin. “I thought you might like something to keep you busy while they’re doing dull grown-up things. It’s a game.”

Anakin picked up one piece of wood. It was beautiful. He almost never got to touch wood. “Padme had wooden doors on Naboo. They were huge.” The wood was funny. It didn’t feel coarse like the sandcrete that was used to build things on Tatooine or cool like metal or stone. He ran his fingers over the wood over and over, fascinated. “I heard wood can be cut into shapes. Did you do that with these?”

“I didn’t, but a craftsman did. This is a logic puzzle. Alor Mereel said you were very clever, so I thought you might enjoy this. These pieces of wood can be fitted together to form a cube. Do you think you can do it?”

Anakin knew he could do it. It might take a while, but he could definitely do it. He worked for a good long while, trying this piece and that. “People keep trying to kill Obi.”

“I’ve heard.”

“And he’s not getting better.” Anakin didn’t look over to where Obi-Wan was being examined. Much better to concentrate on the puzzle. “He said he’ll be better when he gets to the Jedi Temple, but right now I think he’s still sick. He walks real slow and he used a stim-patch that got Boss Jaster and Doctor Gihan all upset. He’s still sick, but he won’t say so.”

“Why do you think that?”

“He’s nice. He doesn’t want to upset anyone. I think Boss Jaster knows. Obi fell down a minute ago. If he doesn’t get back to the Jedi Temple...” Anakin pushed the logic puzzle away. “I don’t want to do this.”

“Anakin?”

Anakin looked up instantly at Obi-Wan’s call. He stood up and ducked his head a little at Doctor Kretkin. “May I go, sir?”

“Of course.” Doctor Kretkin started to gather up the piece of the logic puzzle. “We can play with this next time we meet.”

Anakin nodded and ran to Obi-Wan. “Are you done? Do we leave now?”

Obi-Wan grimaced. “Not quite, my dear. Now, I know this isn’t what you want, but Doctor Gihan is being a little overcautious just because I took a tiny stumble. He’d like me to stay for a while to get some tests done and Jaster wants to stay here to find out the results of those tests. Jango is going to keep looking for clues about who destroyed our ship. I don’t want you to be alone for so long, so I thought it might be a good idea if you spent the night with Satine.”

Anakin looked over at Satine and she smiled at him. “I’m not the most exciting hostess, I can fix you a quick dinner and I have a few stories on a datapad you can listen to. Maybe we can practice a few words in Mando’a so we’ll be ready for class.”

Anakin wasn’t dumb. He knew they wanted him away for whatever tests they were going to give Obi-Wan, but as Obi-Wan seemed to want him to go with Satine, too, then he would go. He nodded. “Okay.” He went to Obi-Wan and squeezed his hand. “I’ll see you in the morning?”

Obi-Wan squeezed back. “In the morning.”

Jango walked them to Satine’s room, despite her saying, “This whole ‘escort’ thing is getting old very quickly.”

“Tell me who bruised your arms and it can stop,” Jango said, flatly.

Satine scowled and Jango shrugged and off they went.

“I can’t stay,” Jango told them when they reached Satine’s door. “On top of everything else, I want to see how the repairs of the city defenses are coming. We need to be at full strength in case of another attack. You’ll lock your door when you’re inside, vod’ika. I still don’t like leaving you alone.”

Satine did lock the door as soon as she and Anakin were in the room. Satine made dinner for Anakin and let him help with the cooking. After they ate, she sat at the table with him and they turned on Satine’s datapad where a children’s story with bright colored pictures was on it. Under the pictures were words in Mando’a, which Satine read outloud and translated into Basic for him. Anakin repeated the words and memorized them as she read.

“Sissy?”

“Yes?”

“Is Obi gonna die?”

Satine was quiet for a while. “Obi-Wan is the strongest person I have ever met in my life. He is brave and intelligent and good. But even the strongest of people can die. I don’t want you to be scared, but I really don’t know much about what’s ailing him and he’s been a bit sparse with details. He may not even know the details as he’s not trained as a healer.”

“He says I shouldn’t worry about him, but I do.”

“Me, too. He requires being worried about. He certainly won’t do it for himself. But, for now, he’s in very capable hands. Doctor Gihan has an excellent reputation as being a first rate doctor and we both know Jaster won’t let Obi-Wan do anything silly. So, I think we should get some rest so we’ll be ready to worry about him tomorrow.”

Satine set up a screen in a corner of the room. She pulled out a green tunic from a trunk of clothes and held it up against Anakin. “I think this will do you for tonight. You can use it as a sleeping shirt. You go behind the screen and change your clothes. Leave the dirty ones in a pile and I’ll have them washed in the morning. I’ll change out here and then we’ll get some sleep. If you don’t want me to use the sleeping pit with you, I’ll sleep on the couch.”

“I don’t mind,” Anakin said when he took the tunic from her. “On Tatooine, slaves always slept in big groups when we can. Sleeping in groups is safer.”

“What do you mean?”

“If you’re in a big group of people when you sleep, then bad people probably won’t come creeping around. On Tatooine, it was only mom and me - we didn’t usually have lots of people around. Sometimes, bad stuff happens when you sleep. ‘Sides, you’re practically my big sister, so it’s okay if we share stuff.”

Satine didn’t seem happy about that, but she didn’t ask questions and sent Anakin to get changed. When he was behind the screen, she told him, “I’m changing my clothes out here, so don’t come out until I tell you to, okay?”

“Okay.”

Anakin had changed and was waiting for Satine when he heard a knock on the door and then heard Jango’s voice. “Sorry. I forgot. I got you a present.”

“What is it?”

“A signal jammer.”

Satine said, “Are you sure that’s necessary? It’s not as if I go around talking to myself about state secrets.”

“I’m completely sure it’s necessary. A little extra security goes a long way.”

“Very well. If it makes you happy.”

When Satine finally called Anakin out, Jango was gone and Anakin got to see the signal jammer sitting on Satine’s desk. It was nothing more than a black box with a green, blinking light on it to show that it was working. Anakin had seen that kind before and knew it was a good make. He’d like to take it apart to look at the insides.

Satine’s sleeping pit wasn’t as nice as the one Boss Jaster was letting Obi-Wan and Anakin use. She only had one large blanket and pillow while the one Obi-Wan and Anakin were using was filled with lots of them. He didn’t say anything because he knew very well sometimes people couldn’t get everything they needed. He would tell Boss Jaster. Boss Jaster could get her more blankets.

In the sleeping pit, Satine gave Anakin both the blanket and the pillow as she had a sweater she could roll up and use as a pillow and said she was warm enough if she wore her robe over her night dress. Satine went to one side of the big sleeping pit and Anakin on the other side. They were both fast asleep in minutes.

***

Anakin woke up to find a man standing on the floor next to the sleeping pit, staring down at them. No. Not them, he realized as he blinked the fog of sleep out of his mind. The man was staring at Satine. Anakin look at her. She was still asleep. Sound asleep with her hands folded and resting on her stomach. Her robe had come undone in the night and fallen open.

The man held a small light, the only light in the dark room, and it cast scary shadows on his face. He stared and stared, not making a single attempt to wake Satine up. It was bad. Anakin knew what sort of bad stuff could happen. Hadn’t he just warned Satine? Terrible things could happen to slaves when they slept... but there were no slaves on Mandalore. Anakin reached behind him and touched his scar. He felt his courage gather. There were no slaves on Mandalore. Anakin wasn’t a slave and Satine wasn’t a slave, so they didn’t have to let bad things happen.

Anakin grabbed the closest part of Satine he could reach, her foot, and shook. “Wake up, Sissy!”

Satine woke abruptly. “What? What?” She looked around, blinking. “What’s going... Trion? What are you doing?” She scrambled to fix her robe, covering herself better.

Trion stared down at her. “It’s only me. There’s nothing to be scared of. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I locked the door. You shouldn’t be here.” Satine stood up and got out of the sleeping pit, putting her on even ground with Trion. When Anakin followed her, she took hold of his hand and stepped in front of him. “Did you come here for a reason?”

“I wanted to see you.” He kept staring. “I saw you sitting with that Jetti boy at the Challenge Match. You shouldn’t allow such an intimacy. He’ll only hurt you.”

Satine pointed at the door. “You need to leave.”

He stared a minute more, then smiled. “You look beautiful tonight.” Then he turned and left.

Anakin ran to the door and peeked out into the hall. “He’s gone. He was just standing there watching you. Sorry I shook you.”

Satine stared at the door. She took a deep breath. “Right. Right. I think the best thing to do is to go spend the rest of the night in Jaster’s apartment. They should be back, now, and I don’t think Jaster will mind if we impose for a few hours. Off we go.”

“Shouldn’t we put our regular clothes back on?”

Satine went very still and eyed the walls. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea at the moment. You can wear my coat in the hall.” Satine gave Anakin the coat, then wrapped herself in her blanket before they left her room and went a few doors down the hall to Boss Jaster’s room.

“I don’t like that guy,” Anakin said while they walked. “He’s the guy that didn’t want you to stay and eat with us that first day we got here. I thought he was your friend.”

Satine was looking rather tense around the eyes. “I thought... he was my father’s friend. He was like an uncle to me.” She stopped in front of Boss Jaster’s door and crouched down to look Anakin in the eye. “I think we should be discrete about all this. There’s no reason to get everyone worked up when this might be some sort of mistake.”

It wasn’t a mistake. Anakin couldn’t think of any mistake that could end up with a weird guy watching Satine sleep. But, if discrete was what she wanted, then he was happy to help. “Right. Discrete. I promise.”

“Good. Let’s go.”

The first thing Anakin saw when Satine opened Boss Jaster’s door was Jango sitting on the couch talking with Boss Jaster. Boss Jaster held a metal drinking up in one hand. Obi-Wan was on the couch with them, but had fallen sound asleep and was leaning against Boss Jaster.

Anakin cried out, “There was a creepy guy in Sissy’s room and he was starin’ at her when she was sleeping!”

Jango’s eyes went wide, burning. With one hand, Boss Jaster crushed the metal cup he’d been drinking out of.

Satine gasped, “Anakin! You said you’d be discrete!”

“Yeah. Discrete means ‘loud’, right?”

To Be Continued...

Verd - warrior
Aruetii - outsider / non-Mandalorian
Vod’ika - younger sibling

Chapter Text

Chapter 29 - Confessions

The Fortress-
The Infirmary-
Obi-Wan -

After Anakin left with Satine, the infirmary was very quiet. It seemed that all the patients who’d been admitted earlier because of the Death Watch attack had been released. He disliked the sterile smell. Doctor Gihan went through a comprehensive exam from Obi-Wan’s heart rate to the length of his fingernails.

“There’s nothing to explain your continued ill health,” Doctor Gihan grumbled, after several hours. “I know you said you would be fine once you got back to the Jedi Temple, but I don’t like how your condition is progressing. You are getting more and more lethargic and now you are having such weakness that you can barely stand on your own two feet.”

Obi-Wan thought that might be a bit of an exaggeration. He could stand... it was walking that seemed to be becoming an issue.

He didn’t like how Jaster was looking a little frantic or that Doctor Gihan kept clenching and unclenching his hands. They’d been good to him and Anakin and it didn’t seem right to keep them worrying.

It was time for a confession, apparently.

Obi-Wan was an excellent liar. He’d come first in his class for all three years of Creative Persuasion lessons. Master Qui-Gon had taken him to the Senate several times to not only learn from people whose careers were filled with lying, but to practice his own skills among them. He was reliably told that his skills in lying were easily comparable to the most hardened politician or the slickest con-artist.

And yet...

“No more lies.” Jaster Mereel stood with his arms crossed in front of Obi-Wan, staring down at him with stern, disapproving eyes. The disapproval was almost enough to make Obi-Wan cringe. “Tell us what is going on with you.”

Doctor Gihan’s eyes were filled with an awful mix of grief and guilt. “Do you not trust us? If you want another doctor to help you, please ask. I can recommend so many excellent doctors who will do their utmost to help you. If you don’t feel safe telling me the truth because of something I’ve done...” his voice trailed away for a moment. He reached out one of his big, clawed hands and lightly touched Obi-Wan’s arm. “We all just want to give you the best care possible. Please, let us help you.”

But if he did tell them how serious Arkon Poisoning was, what would the ramifications be? It was bad enough that he’d been so unforgivably careless that he’d told them about the Service Corps and the work they did, serving the galaxy when the Jedi were not allowed to. If word of the Service Corps’ work on behalf of the Jedi got back to the Senate, they might try to stop that good work. Though as the Service Corps was not technically part of the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan wasn’t entirely sure how the Senate could stop them, he didn’t want to put the Jedi Council in the position of having to explain and justify the relationship between the Jedi and the Service Corps to some sort of Senate Investigative Committee. He also didn’t want to take the chance that even one senator might realize that every single member of the Service Corps was Force Sensitive and highly trained specialists in their professions, because if they did realize how powerful the Service Corps was, then it was very likely they would try to shackle the Service Corps in the same way that they’d done to the Jedi so very long ago.

Shackle. Chain.

Obi-Wan put a hand to the scar on his throat, the scar that would never fade, no matter how much bacta the healers used on it.

Not for the first time, Obi-Wan felt a stirring of doubt. Was it right to take Anakin into the Jedi Order? It was what Anakin wanted, what Anakin’s mother thought was best for him, but was it better? At least on Tatooine, Anakin would be with his loving mother. Obi-Wan did care for Anakin, very much, and he had no doubt that if someone else took Anakin as their Padawan, Anakin would never lack for care and attention, but was it right?

‘Better than beatings and the threat of death at the whim of whoever owned him.’ Obi-Wan then thought of the some of the missions he and his Master had been sent on by order of the Senate, missions where he had come very close to death, missions where he’d known, even as a very young Padawan, that the Council had argued to send more Jedi or at least a team with a senior Padawan who had more experience and skill than a thirteen-year-old Obi-Wan.

“May I see my Master?”

Jaster and Doctor Gihan exchanged a look and Obi-Wan thought they might be worried. After a moment, Doctor Gihan finally nodded and said, “Of course you can. Jango brought him in earlier. You can have as much time as you like. We’ll both still be here when you’re done.” He took Obi-Wan by the arm to help him off the exam bed and Obi-Wan might have been a bit insulted if his knees didn’t still feel a little weak. So he accepted the help and let Doctor Gihan walk to him to a small side room that turned out to be a morgue. The room was cool. There was no smell and no noise. At the far end of the room, opposite from where Obi-Wan had walked in, sat Master Qui-Gon’s stasis pod.

“Master, don’t be cross,” Obi-Wan said, putting both of his hands on the transparent lid of the stasis pod. “I’m not wallowing in attachment, I know you’re not really in there.” He gave the lid of the stasis pod a soft tap with his knuckles before he rested his hands on it, again. “But I need to talk outloud. I don’t know what to do. Anakin looks at me like I have all the wisdom of the ancients, but I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m so lost. Should we have taken him from his mother?”

Obi-Wan tried to imagine what Master Qui-Gon might have said and the answer, in Master Qui-Gon’s voice, came to him very clearly.

“His life was constantly at risk on Tatooine.”

“Yes.” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, trying to organize his thoughts. “But at the Temple, he will grow up with so many restrictions because of his power. Discipline and control will be especially important for him. He will very shortly learn about the authority the Senate holds over us. They control our access to food, to medicine, to what service we are allowed to be to the galaxy. I’ve heard you and Grandmaster talking about it.” He’d heard them talking and arguing about it many times when they thought he was asleep. Neither of them approved of the Senate’s authority over the Jedi Order, neither of them wanted it to continue. “Anakin’s not stupid. He’s going to realize that he left slavery, but he didn’t find freedom. If we had left him on Tatooine, he would have at least been with his mother.”

“And he would have been separated from her when his power became known. At that time, he would either be killed when his owner realized how dangerous he was or drugged into helplessness and used as breeding stock. At least at the Temple we can offer some protection.”

Some protection was better than none. Obi-Wan didn’t open his eyes, but he nodded. Anakin’s mother would have understood the danger Anakin was in and while she never would have wanted to be parted from him, she would have wanted him to have a better life away from the terrible nightmare that was Tatooine. “And we can give Anakin weapons to fight with, to defend himself and others with.”

“That’s right,” Master Qui-Gon’s soothing voice - though it was all Obi-Wan’s imagination - was a great comfort. “He’ll be better off with the Jedi. Tell me what else plagues your mind.”

“Should I tell them about the Arkon Poisoning? I think they mean well, Anakin seems to think that the Force is telling him to trust them, but he’s not trained enough to interpret all the nuances of the Force and perhaps he’s mistaking what he wants to believe for what the Force is trying to tell him. I don’t know. I want to trust them. I like them.”

He could imagine Master Qui-Gon standing next to him, putting a hand on the back of Obi-Wan’s neck in a show of fondness and support. “Emotion can cloud your mind. Use reason. If you can not understand the Force’s guidance, what does your reason tell you?”

“That Jaster and Doctor Gihan have done nothing but help us. They clearly aren’t with Death Watch. They know I am Jedi and have done nothing to hurt us. But what if they know the full truth of the Arkon Poisoning? It’s dangerous enough that they know we’re vulnerable to it. If they know it can kill Jedi, if they spread the word that there is a power that can easily kill Jedi, it puts everyone at risk.”

“They found out about the Arkon Poisoning without any help from you. It’s not a secret that can be kept hidden if someone starts looking for it. The only thing guarding that secret is that no one knows to look for it.”

“They don’t know it can be fatal. They would have said if their research had uncovered that part of the secret.”

“Yes, but if you say nothing, what will they do?”

“They’ll keep looking. They’ll keep looking and they’ll find out.” Obi-Wan covered his closed eyes with one hand. “Jaster already has expressed a dislike of the Jedi Order because I misjudged a situation when we first met - he thinks they’re mistreating me and doesn’t want me to go back. Given the fact that I suspect Jaster will very shortly be Mand’alor, his dislike of the Jedi is not optimal. If he distrusts me because I keep secrets and he later finds out the truth on his own, his dislike of Jedi will increase. And... and they might help. I don’t want to die. If Master Windu doesn’t get here in time... I really don’t want to die.”

“Put your fear aside. Death is natural, a new starting point.”

“Yes. Yes, I know, but I still don’t want to do it.”

He could almost feel Master Qui-Gon’s hand tighten on the back of his neck. “Then let them help you. By your own logic, you have nothing to lose. They are determined enough to find the answers to their questions without you and being honest will, at the very least, improve their opinion of the Jedi.” Then it seemed as if Master Qui-Gon’s voice got closer, so close that Obi-Wan could almost imagine that Master Qui-Gon really was right next to him, standing tall and strong, an anchor. “Ask yourself this - do you truly believe Jaster Mereel will use your sickness to hurt you or the people you care about?”

“No.” Obi-Wan opened his eyes and looked down at Master Qui-Gon’s still face. “No, I don’t believe he will. He’s a good person. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”

Five minutes later, Obi-Wan sat on the exam bed with Doctor Gihan and Jaster standing in front of him and he waited, silently, for their responses to his confession.

“Fatal?” Doctor Gihan said, running a large hand over the top of his head, ruffling his short, purple fur. “This... you didn’t think it was important to mention this? You’re dying and you didn’t want to tell us?”

“You’ve all been very kind to us. I didn’t want to worry you. As I said, Master Windu is coming for us. It’s only a few more days...”

“Six days,” Jaster said, rubbing his forehead.

“Yes, that’s right,” Obi-Wan said, glad that Jaster understood. “Only a few days and I know I’ll be fine until then. Once the Solstice Storm is over, he’ll be able to get me back to the Temple and our healers will have the antidote ready when I arrive. I’m going to be absolutely fine. There’s nothing at all to worry about.”

Jaster let out a great, long sigh and bent over, his elbows on his knees and his forehead resting on the palms of his hands.

Obi-Wan reached out and patted Jaster on the shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Jaster’s head shot up and he stared at Obi-Wan. “Am I alright?! Oh... lad...” he stood up and crossed his arms. He was such an imposing figure, even sitting on the high exam bed, Obi-Wan felt quite dwarfed by him. “I’m glad you decided to tell us the truth. Now that we know exactly what’s happening, we can prepare. You just sit here and rest for a minute. Doctor Gihan and I are just going to go in his office to see if we can find you a walking stick. I think it might be helpful to prevent you from falling, again.”

Obi-Wan immediately thought of Grandmaster Yoda and his well-worn gimmer stick. ‘Wonder if I can get away with wacking people on the shins with a walking stick?’

Doctor Gihan and Jaster went into a small office at the side of the infirmary. That office had a glass door and a large window looking out into the infirmary, presumable so Doctor Gihan could keep an eye on his patients while he worked in his office, and they gave Obi-Wan an excellent view of what was going on in that office.

Doctor Gihan paced briskly back and forth.

Jaster waved his arms around.

They seemed to shout at each out for a few minutes before they both stopped and looked through the window at Obi-Wan. They spoke together for a few more minutes - without the arm waving and shouting - before they came out to see him.

The long and the short of it was that they were upset both at Obi-Wan for trying not to upset them with the truth and that there was very little they could do about it, though Doctor Gihan did swear, with suspiciously damp eyes, that he would do his best find a cure with what little information he had.

“There’s nothing else I can do without more information,” Doctor Gihan said. “I’ll keep studying the results of the tests we ran today. Maybe I’ll find something. Regardless, I will keep working on the problem.”

Obi-Wan shook his head. “There’s only a few days before Master Windu gets here. It’s not enough time to find anything.”

Doctor Gihan patted Obi-Wan’s arm. “You let me deal with that. Right now, your only job is to rest.”

“If you say so, sir.” Obi-Wan bit his lip and rubbed one arm. “May I ask a favor?”

“Of course,” Doctor Gihan said.

“Don’t tell Anakin what I’ve told you. Don’t tell him about the Arkon Poisoning. He’s got so many troubles of his own, there’s no reason to burden him with mine. I’d like him to enjoy the Festival tomorrow and give him a little happiness. He deserves it.”

Jaster sat on the exam bed next to Obi-Wan and put an arm around him. He was so big that it was almost like getting a hug from Master Qui-Gon. “You’re a good boy, Kenobi. I wish I’d know your buir. Someone who could raise a lad like you must have been an admirable person. Let’s go back to the apartment.”

Obi-Wan flushed. The praise sat in his gut like lead.

A cane was provided and while Obi-Wan didn’t like it, he couldn’t deny the practicality. At the very least, perhaps it would keep Anakin from worrying... and it would be nice not to take anymore embarrassing falls on his face, again.

At Jaster’s apartment, Jaster and Obi-Wan ate a small dinner, then sat together on the couch. After a time, Jango returned from escorting Satine and Anakin to Satine’s room and doing a little investigating.

“No luck, yet,” Jango told them, sitting heavily on the couch. “There were a few witnesses who saw the ship explode, but no one was close enough to see exactly what happened. I’ll keep looking, Kenobi. Don’t worry.”

“I’m not.” Obi-Wan yawned. “I’d like to give Anakin a little reassurance. He seems to think the whole galaxy is out to get me. If we can find who did it and find out why, it’ll make him feel better.” He leaned back a little on the couch and closed his eyes. “Jaster, may I ask another favor?”

“Of course.”

“If anything happens to me, will you make sure Anakin gets back to the Jedi Temple?”

Jaster’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t think we should be dwelling on worst case scenarios.”

“No. No, of course not. But, well... it’s a funny old galaxy and unforeseen things happen. Anakin is completely dependent on me and if something does happen to me, however unlikely, then he’ll be alone. I’d feel better if I knew you could get him to the Jedi Temple for me. Or, if you can’t, then please see that he can be happy here. If you send him back to Tatooine -”

“I won’t. I swear he won’t be sent back there,” Jaster said, sincerely. “I will care for Anakin just as I would my own child. I will also do everything possible to free Anakin’s mother and reunite them. And, before you ask, I will see that Master Jinn is returned to your Temple. You have nothing to worry about. Just rest and let yourself recover.”

“Thank you. Your kindness humbles me.”

“There are no thanks needed. Now, try to rest.”

Obi-Wan soon fell sound asleep sitting up on the couch. Another moment later, he tipped slightly to the side and rested his head against Jaster’s shoulder.

***

Obi-Wan woke up to Anakin crying out, “There was a creepy guy in Sissy’s room and he was starin’ at her when she was sleeping!”

And then there was chaos.

Jango was on his feet, his helmet clutched in one hand and blaster in the other. Satine, draped in a blanket and looking as if she’d just woken up in such a disheveled manner as Obi-Wan hadn’t seen since their days of roughing it across Mandalore, faced off against Jango, standing between him and the door. There was a good deal of speaking - loudly enough that it was more like yelling than talking - so quickly that Obi-Wan wasn’t really sure of what was going on.

“It could have been a mistake!” Satine snapped at Jango. “Maybe he needed to speak with me and maybe he did knock on the door but I didn’t answer it so he got worried and came in.”

“That is the flimsiest excuse...”

“Flimsy or not, you don’t know the truth and if you go out there, you’ll attack him without even asking!”

“I don’t need to ask! And I don’t need to wait for you to tell me his name, because I find him on my own. If I can track a trained assassin across the galaxy, then I can find this pervert!”

Anakin, dressed in what appeared to be one of Satine’s long shirts and a coat was standing between them, looking back and forth as they yelled at each other. When he caught Anakin’s eyes, Obi-Wan motioned for him come closer and Anakin rushed to his side.

“What’s going on?” Obi-Wan asked when Anakin stood at his knees and leaned against his legs.

“There was a creep in Sissy’s room when we were sleeping. She’s not happy. Now no one’s happy.”

Satine crossed her arms at Jango, who started waving his arms around, and they both kept yelling.

“Are you hurt?” Obi-Wan asked.

“No.” Anakin hesitated. “Sometimes me and mom would find people in our room when we woke up. Satine made the creep go away.”

Obi-Wan looked up at Jaster, whom he still sat next to on the couch, but Jaster’s eyes were fixed on the confrontation in front of them. His face was still and his eyes narrowed. “She must have been so scared.”

But that look on Satine’s face, the way her lips turned down just so, the way she held her arms and back so stiffly... she wasn’t afraid. She was angry. Angry and sad.

It drew Obi-Wan’s attention back to Satine and Jango. Jango, yelling just as loudly as Satine, said, “But you’re not trained! You stay here and I’ll deal with it!”

“You don’t even know who it was! I won’t tell you ‘cause you’ll just kill them outright! Violence is not the answer!”

Obi-Wan cleared his throat, loudly. When everyone turned to look at him, he smiled at Satine. “You’re looking a bit underdressed this evening. Would you like to borrow some clothes?”

Satine looked down at herself, covered only by her night dress and a blanket pooling around her feet. “Yes. Thank you, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan stood and led her into the sleeping room he and Anakin had been using and closed the door behind them. Anakin, of course, came with them. Once they had some privacy, Obi-Wan fetched the undersuit he’d been given to use and gave it to Satine. Then, she went into the fresher and returned wearing it. It was a bit too big, but covered her better than the blanket and night dress she’d arrived in. Being decently covered had also strengthened her determination and confidence if her posture and stride when she walked out of the fresher were anything to judge by.

“Satine, who was in your room?”

“Trion Lubek.” She didn’t hesitate to tell him. “I never thought he would do something like this. I’ve known him all my life. I’m closer to him than I was to my father. I’ve known him for years longer than I’ve known Bo-Katan. He always tried to protect me. He was always there. But I locked my room’s door. And it’s just as Anakin said - he was just standing there staring and then he walked away like it was nothing. Obi-Wan, I can’t find an excuse for that... but I don’t want him dead. He’s family.”

Anakin said, “Sissy, you’re free. You don’t have to let people do that to you. But if you want, I’ll lie and tell Boss Jaster that I don’t know who was in your room.”

Satine winced. “No. No, I won’t ask you to lie for me. Am I so pitiful that a child thinks he must lie for me? No. I meant what I said before - I have been taking care of myself for a good long while now and I can do it now. Because sometimes the right thing is not the easy thing.” She straightened her shoulders. “Innocent or guilty - justice will be done.”

She walked into the living area of the apartment and met Jaster and Jango’s eyes evenly. “It was Trion. Trion Lubek was in my room a few moments ago. I’d locked the door after Jango left us and Anakin woke me up when he found Trion in the room with us. We arrived in such a state because I wasn’t sure... that is... he knows how to get into my locked room so he would have known how to put recording devices in the room. I didn’t want to take the chance of being recorded while changing. Jango gave me a signal jammer, but... well... better safe than sorry. Trion is the Security Officer of Keldabe, he has been for years. He knows how to do that sort of thing.”

Jango turned and moved to the door, as if to charge out that very moment and find the culprit, but Satine dashed in front of him and stood in his path. “You can NOT just kill him! I am not a child and I have not been helpless for a very long time. I have taken care of myself before your arrival and I will do so now. I do not need a savior to come flying in to my rescue!”

Jango stepped up to her, staring down at her righteous fury with his own firm resolve. “Then let me stand beside you and fight as your vod. Let me help you.”

Jaster stood up and went to Satine. He took her hands. “Lubek’s been hanging around you for years, you said. I think you mentioned that he’s known you since you were a small child? Sat’ika... has he ever done this before?”

Satine frowned. “I... I don’t know. Never caught him at it, anyway, and how can I trust that he’d tell the truth if I asked?” She ran a hand through her hair. “I keep asking myself - how would I react if I found out he’d been sneaking into Bo-Katan’s room. Bo-Katan’s had nights when I was able to have her stay here with me so he’s had the opportunity. Or what if he hasn’t done it yet, but he may do it in the future if I don’t speak up, now?”

“Sat’ika,” Jaster said. “You don’t have to do this alone. You will come with me to the yaim be bajur. We will ask Teacher Frewn if your sister has had any unexpected visitors and you will visit with Bo-Katan to see that she is safe and well. It will settle your mind. We will leave Jango to do what he so enjoys - hunt. He will retrieve Trion Lubek and then we will uncover the truth. Upon my word of honor, he won’t be killed without reason.”

Satine nodded and, without any further words, Jango was off, speeding out of the apartment like his feet were on fire. Jaster gave Obi-Wan and Anakin strict instructions to stay in the apartment and to call Doctor Gihan for any problems. Then he and Satine set off.

When they were alone in the room and all was quiet, Anakin sat on the couch next to Obi-Wan. “Are you okay, now?”

“Just tired.”

Anakin crossed his arms and stared at Obi-Wan. “You said we don’t lie to friends.” He leaned over Obi-Wan’s lap to take the cane that had been leaning against the end of the couch. He pulled it over and examined it, closely. “Is it for you?”

“Yes. It’s just to help me a bit. Don’t want to take any more little falls. Honestly, I feel fine. I’m not in any pain. I really am just tired. I am ill, but there’s nothing to be done about it. I will be alright. How about you?”

“I’m okay. I want to help. Sissy was real nice to me after you fell, so I should do something nice for her.”

“The Day of Service is tomorrow. Doing something nice for someone else is an important part of that.”

“What’s the Day of Service?”

“A Jedi holiday. We don’t have much in the way of holidays, but the Day of Service is celebrated by all Jedi as a day to go out into our communities, no matter where we are on that day, and be of service to those less fortunate than ourselves. I understand if you don’t want to serve other people,” It would make sense that Anakin wouldn’t like the notion that he HAD to serve other people, given his life. “But I’ve always enjoyed it. When I was newly a Padawan, Master Qui-Gon took me to the local animal shelter and let me clean the cages.”

Anakin wrinkled his nose. “That was fun?”

“I suppose it sounds funny if you’re not raised as Jedi, but we are, at the heart of things, servants. We serve the people of the galaxy by fighting for peace and, above all else, we are servants of the Force.” Obi-Wan had tried to explain it to outsiders before, but few had ever understood the happiness that could be gained from making other people happy. “To serve people who are less fortunate than we are, to make their lives a little easier and a little better, is always a joyful thing.”

With all the seriousness that it deserved, Anakin considered it. He was quiet as he thought, twiddling his fingers and wiggling his feet, until he finally said, “I want do something nice for Sissy. She needs blankets.”

To Be Continued...

Vod - comrade / sibling

Chapter Text

Chapter 30: Hunting

Mandalore -
The Fortress-
Jango-

Jango left Jaster’s apartment, barely restraining himself from running. Trion Lubek. He would find Trion Lubek and make him face justice. He didn’t call anyone to help him on this hunt. After all, Lubek was nothing more than a feeble ‘New’ Mandalorian, a pacifist who didn’t even...

Stop.

Jango closed his eyes and forced himself to be still and think. Underestimating an enemy was a sure route to failure. It was hard to take such a person as Lubek seriously as an opponent, but Jango was not careless. He had many faults, he would freely admit, but he was not careless. He stood in the hall and thought. He needed a better weapon. He need the most valuable weapon any hunter could have - information.

He set off at a fast clip and walked directly passed Lubek’s apartment. Of course he knew where Lubek lived - Jaster had already told him that he was to take over the responsibility of security for the Fortress, so he’d spent some little time investigating not only the Fortress, but it’s residents. He wanted to stop, wanted to bash in the door, but he kept walking until he reached the communication room. At the communication room, he found an out of the way terminal and sat down at it. A few minutes later and he had access to the security cameras placed around the Fortress. It was no trouble at all to find the one outside Satine’s room. He then found one close to Lubek’s apartment.

Jango watched as Lubek, without any attempt at subterfuge at all, walked out of his room, went down several halls, then stopped at the door of Satine’s room. He easily typed in the security key code and the door opened. He stayed there for over half an hour and the longer Jango watched the image of Satine’s closed door and the empty hall, waiting for Lubek to leave, the more his blood boiled.

Despite his growing ire, Jango stayed still. He didn’t move. He was well trained, experienced. He was patient and he waited. All good hunters knew how to wait, how to be silent and calm.

The image didn’t change. He glanced at the timer in the corner of the terminal’s screen, ticking off time. Minute after minute passed until, finally, Trion left the room. He was placid, as if he belonged there, as if he had any right at all to invade Satine’s privacy, and even took the time to lock the door behind him. Some mockery of care? Perhaps a twisted attempt to show he wasn’t as bad as his actions proved?

Jango turned off the image from the security camera and did some small research about Trion Lubek. There was very little to find - name, age, title, clearances, and similar things, but nothing in depth and that rang a little alarm bell in Jango’s mind. There should be more. It was too basic for someone who had held a high position of power for more than twenty years as the right hand of two rulers of the Mandalorian Empire. Jango would bet credits that if he searched for information about any other long-time resident of the Fortress of a similar status that Lubek held, he would find a wealth of history, associates, hobbies, educational achievements, family. But there was next to nothing about Lubek and that nothing made the hair on the back of Jango’s neck stand up.

There was almost no information to find.

‘I’ve taken jobs with worse intel,’ Jango thought. He turned off the terminal and left the communications center.

At the door of Lubek’s apartment, Jango very politely knocked. There was no reason to waste perfectly good energy from a blaster if all he had to do was knock. And if Lubek didn’t answer his door, then Jango could blow it off its’ hinges.

Lubek did, surprisingly, open his door. There was a look of disdain on his face that Jango had entirely expected. Lubek had made no secret of his opinion of Jaster or his people since well before they’d arrived.

“You’re coming with me.”

Lubek sneered. “And why would I do that?”

To play stupid was just an insult. Jango stepped forward, so suddenly, that Lubek was forced to move back, into his apartment, and Jango followed him in. “You entered the room of Duchess Kryze without permission.”

“Hardly a crime.”

It almost made Jango speechless to hear such insolence. “Yes, it is a crime. At the very least, trespassing.”

“I can assure you that I did nothing she wouldn’t approve of. If you’re going to start acting concerned, perhaps you should ask her if she wishes to bring a complaint against me.” His confidence was staggering.

Satine didn’t want the man dead. She’d made that very clear and Jango didn’t want to make her unhappy, but...

He grabbed Lubek by the front of his shirt and yanked in him close enough that Lubek couldn’t possibly miss his whispered words, “You are lucky the duchess is merciful and kind and I want to make her happy. For myself, I would gut you like a fish right where you stand.”

Lubek leaned in close and whispered back, “You won’t kill me.”

Behind the mask of his helmet, Jango’s eyes widened. “Exactly how much are you willing to bet on that?” Because it wouldn’t take very much to convince Jango that while Satine might be unhappy with Lubek’s death, she would be happier in the long run.

“I’m willing to bet Bo-Katan Kryze.”

Jango froze and released Lubek. “What?”

“I’m not some unthinking savage,” Lubek sneered, stepping carelessly away from Jango. “You think I never planned for this?” He turned on a large monitor on the wall and pressed a button on the side of it. The screen lit up with an image of the nearby yaim be bajur. “You’re not going to do anything to me because I have explosive planted there.”

It was unthinkable. Jango felt frozen at the monstrous threat. To threaten a whole yaim be bajur. “There are ade there.”

“Yes. That’s the point. So, you’re going to throw all your weapons out that window,” he pointed at the room’s only window, several hundred feet above the ground. “And then you’ll toss your armor after it. Not your jet pack. Put that on the floor, here.” He pointed to a spot near his feet. “If I catch any hint that I’m being followed, I’ll turn the yaim be bajur into a crater.”

Jango did as he was told. Armor and weapons went out the window. What else could he do with such a threat? But only moments after he did, while Lubek was watching him, Jango looked at the image on the monitor and saw movement. He began to grin. “I think you won’t detonate it.”

“I’m not bluffing.”

“No, but you won’t detonate. Look who just walked into the courtyard of the yaim be bajur.”

Lubek turned just enough to look at the monitor while he kept an eye on Jango. The blood drained from his face.

There, in the darkness, with his helmet’s external light illuminating the way, Jaster walked with Satine at his side.

“No,” Lubek gasped. “No. She can’t be there.”

But she was. As clear as anything, Satine and Jaster walked into the yaim be bajur’s courtyard. There was no one around until Teacher Frewn came out to meet them. Satine even turned her head at one point and faced whatever recording device Lubek had set up, giving them a crystal-clear image of her face. “How much do you want to escape?” Jango asked. “Are you willing to kill her?”

“You’re smarter than your buir.” Lubek focused on Jango entirely. “You sent her there. You put her in danger.”

“She went to check on her little sister and I’m not the one who planted bombs in a place filled with ade and untrained noncombatants!”

“I should have killed Bo-Katan years ago. She takes too much of Satine’s attention.” And then Lubek charged.

It took Jango entirely by surprise, which he was immensely ashamed of because he realized, as he fell backwards towards the still open door to avoid the short knife Lubek had taken from under his cape, that he was, most likely, going to have to suffer Myles and Silas laughing at him for being jumped by a New Mandalorian - an armor-less pacifist. Even when he hit the ground and felt his teeth rattle from the impact, he knew he would never live down the embarrassment.

Lubek aimed the knife for Jango’s throat and it would have been an excellent plan, but Jango, even in his current state of being armor-less and weapon-less, was not a pacifist. Not even remotely.

Jango grabbed Lubek’s hand that held the knife and used his free hand to seize Lubek by the throat. He squeezed. They stayed like that for a long, drawn-out moment, with Lubek fighting to inch the knife close to Jango’s throat and Jango trying to choke Lubek unconscious or, better, dead. And then Lubek stopped clawing at Jango’s hand around his throat and aimed a thumb at one of Jango’s eyes. Jango had no doubt at all that given half a chance, Lubek would gouge Jango’s eye clean out. He had no choice but to release Lubek’s throat to protect his eyes. Jango rolled to get Lubek on the ground, but Lubek was able to use the momentum and kept rolling until Jango was back on the floor. Jango raised a knee to try bucking Lubek off, but before he could, there was an angry growl from the hall behind them.

Lubek didn’t notice, at first, but Jango knew that sound anywhere. He shouted, “Aranar, go!”

A forced as powerful as a massive sledgehammer ripped Lubkek away, backwards into the room, and Jango was free. He sat up and saw that Aranar had knocked Lubek not only off Jango, but clear across the room, right next to the window. There, with Lubek against the wall, Aranar stood there, so intently focused on him that Jango knew, given the right words, Aranar would attack.

Jango got off the ground and strolled up to Aranar’s side and put a hand on its’ shoulder. Its’ muscles were tense, hard and minutely trembling as it waited for the command to attack. It would rip Lubek’s face off with the right command and Jango was sorely tempted. “Good job,” Jango praised Aranar as it easily kept Lubek in place.

Lubke yanked something from his pocket, a small sphere no bigger around than a few inches, but when it hit the floor between Lubek and Jango, a tremendous flash filled the room - a light grenade. Jango’s vision went nearly white and he heard Aranar whine from the pain of the light. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was absolutely blinding and it was enough time to let Lubek grab Jango’s jet pack, put it on, slap a small explosive on that wall that turned the small window into into a massive hole in the wall, and fly out the window. By the time Jango stopped seeing stars and his ears stopped ringing, he saw Lubek flying half-way across Keldabe. Jango activated the small room communicator on the wall near the door, an old-fashioned system that still worked. He found the correct switch to connect him to the barracks where most of his people were staying. “Myles! Silas! Anyone who can hear me, come to the Ruling Wing of the Fortress. There’s a problem.”

To their credit, Myles and Silas arrived within minutes.

“I need a jet pack,” Jango said the moment he saw them running down the hall towards him. “He thinks he’s getting away from me!”

Myles took off his own jet pack even before he reached Jango, and held it out to him along with his blaster. “Take them and go!”

Jango did take it, naturally, and, as he strapped it on, he told them, “He said he had an explosive at the yaim be bajur and threatened to detonate it. He only stopped because Satine’s there.” He jabbed his finger at the monitor still displaying the courtyard at the yaim be bajur. “Contact Jaster!” He activated Silas’ jet pack and, without another word, took off out into the night.

Satine-

She walked next to Jaster as they went to the yaim be bajur and struggled to keep her thoughts on Bo-Katan. Trion had snuck into her room. Little Anakin had been there... what if Trion had hurt him? Trion had never been violent, but he’d never snuck into her room, either... she thought. She hoped. What if he’d done more than watch while she’d been sleeping? The thought made her stomach turn. She didn’t even want to think about it, but when she remembered waking up with Anakin shaking her foot and she saw Trion standing over them, looking entirely too big, too tall, too strong... her flesh crawled.

He wasn’t a big man, really. He was average - taller than Jango, but smaller overall than Jaster. But he had always seemed big and strong... perhaps that was her childish memories of him when he would carry her in his arms. When he’d sit on her bed and read her a bedtime story.

Satine stopped dead in her tracks as a very old memory came floating back to her mind. She’d been small, very small. She’d been sent away from Mandalore and scared to be away from her family and home on the scary new world of Coruscant, but Trion had gone with her to deliver her to the care of the nurse droid her father had bought for her. Trion had stayed with her the whole day, helped to set up her new home, cooked dinner for her... he’d given her a bath. She’d been four years old when she’d left Mandalore... four and he’d washed her and... and...

“Sat’ika?” Jaster had stopped walking a few feet ahead and turned to look at her. “Do you need to go back? I can check on Bo’ika for you.”

She blinked at the nickname. She felt a warmth for Jaster that helped to push away the horror of what she was beginning to suspect of Trion. If Jaster was serious about taking her into his family, about adoption, then she couldn’t even consider such a thing with someone who didn’t also take Bo-Katan and to hear Jaster use such a fond nickname for her sister was a relief. And why wouldn’t he be fond of her? Bo-Katan was both adorable and nearly feral... who wouldn’t love her?

But Jaster was watching her, carefully. Did he think she was so weak? She had survived so many other threats long before Jaster had arrived on the scene. She raised her chin and continued walking. “We should go. It’s late and I don’t want to disturb Bo any longer than necessary.”

When Jaster caught up with her and they, again, walked side-by-side, he said, “We won’t have to disturb her at all, if you don’t wish to. We can speak with Teacher Frewn and then come back in the morning, before your therapy session.”

The therapy was something she wasn’t entirely sure she needed or wanted, but the doctor she’d been assigned to was pleasant and friendly and she was starting to consider the adoption offer so that might be something worth getting another opinion on. After all, as she was making an attempt to be a proper Mandalorian, having Jaster as her advocate and advisor would be invaluable, but being able to call him family would give her a level of safety that she was almost certain she was being selfish in wanting. The idea of having people to belong to and depend on was very tempting, especially since...

“It would seem that I can no longer count on Trion as my staunchest defender.”

Jaster’s shoulders went stiff at the mention of Trion’s name.

“I can’t understand why he would... I would have done anything for him, you know. I trusted him.”

They arrived at the gates of the yaim be bajur and a guard asked their names and business, then brought them to the large courtyard. It was the same area where she and Obi-Wan had to break up a little scuffle between Bo-Katan and Anakin. The whole school was surrounded by a great stone wall and even at night, Satine could see the shadows of sentinels walking the top of the wall, guarding so many defenseless people housed inside. There were several large lanterns that hung on the wall where they waited, giving plenty of light to see by.

It was only a few minutes wait before Teacher Frewn joined them. When told about what Trion had done, she took off her helmet and looked at Satine with something that might have skirted the edge of compassion on her stony face. Satine briskly ignored the look and asked if there was any chance that Trion might have gotten into the yaim be bajur or had any contact with Bo-Katan.

“No. Our guards are excellently trained. He could not have crept in here with everyone unaware. However, Trion Lubek has been head of city defenses and Fortress security for longer than Bo-Katan has been alive and he has the authority to inspect our security arrangements. I will check our logs to see whether or not he had any encounters with Bo-Katan during those visits.”

She did and he hadn’t.

Satine felt a little of the nauseous anxiety in her gut lessen. She was about to ask if she might speak with Bo-Katan for a moment, when Jaster held up a hand.

“I just got a message from Myles,” he tapped the side of his helmet to indicate he was listening through the audio receiver nearly all Mandalorian helmets had. “Jango confronted Lubek and Lubek threatened him, telling him that he’s got some sort of explosive planted here. He was going to detonate it if Jango didn’t do as he was told, but then he realized you were here,” he looked at Satine.

Satine looked sharply at Teacher Frewn. “Evacuate! I don’t see how he could have gotten in here to do such a thing, but treat it as a legitimate threat.”

Teacher Frewn put her helmet back on and raced to the dormitory.

“That means,” Jaster said, taking hold of Satine’s arm. “We have to get you out, too. Let’s go.”

Satine didn’t move. “I can’t leave.”

“What are you talking about? He’s obviously targeting this place because of you and...”

“And the yaim be bajur is only still standing because I am here. I have to stay to give everyone time to get out.” She pulled her arm away from Jaster.

Jaster slapped his forehead and, as he was wearing his helmet as well as gauntlets, it resulted in a loud, bell-like ring. He paced a single circle around her, then stopped right in front of her and took off his helmet. He didn’t look at all happy. To Satine’s shock, he wordlessly put his helmet on her. It was the first time in her life she’d ever worn a piece of armor. Jaster then took off his gauntlets and strapped them onto Satine’s hands, but they were so big that they almost fell off. He unlatched his cuirass.

“What are you doing?” Satine’s voice sounded strange to her coming out of the helmet.

“If an explosive goes off that’s big enough to damage this yaim be bajur, then it will be big enough to bring down walls right on your head and I’m not having you out here all exposed!” He put his cuirass on Satine which, of course, didn’t fit in any of the right places, then pulled a long rifle out from where it had been hanging on his back under his cape and held it at the ready, standing there in nothing but his undersuit and bare head.

“I don’t think -”

“Sat’ika,” Jaster didn’t look at her. He was looking all around at everything else, his eyes flickering rapidly here and there, as if to see through the darkness just beyond the light of the lanterns. “If you are going to stay here, you are going to be armored.”

Satine felt a flare of indignation at having yet another decision made for her. The armor was heavy and she felt weighed down. But then Jaster said,

“You’re very brave, Sat’ika.” He gave her the briefest of glances and smiled. “Mandokarla. Don’t worry - I’ve got your back.”

And she didn’t mind wearing his armor, after all.

Herna-

In a lonely alcove on the outside of a tall building that housed a historical museum, shadowed and hidden from view, Herna sat far above the street and despaired.

She was done.

The guilt was crushing.

She had attacked her leader, the Goran. There could be no forgiveness for her, not when she couldn’t bathe in the Living Waters with repentance in her heart and she couldn’t do that because, she knew, she wasn’t actually sorry. He would have stood her in way, he would have sent her far from her boy. She’d had to do it. Perhaps the Goran was dead, now. At her hands, he might be dead, Marching Far Ahead, taking all his knowledge with him. Her people would not forgive this crime. Never.

She could never forgive it.

She watched the Fortress, still and dark in the night. There were lights in the small windows, but very little activity. Like most large cities, Keldabe never really slept, but it was quieter at night. Her boy was somewhere in that Fortress, undoubtedly having his mind poisoned by Jaster Mereel. She couldn’t forget the conversation she’d overheard between the dolts who had speculated about Mereel adopting her boy. That couldn’t happen.

So she waited and thought and tried to find some way to get into the Fortress so she could rescue her boy, free him from Mereel’s clutches. But the Fortress was well-guarded and she would do no good to her boy if she got killed trying to force her way in. She was tired, desperately tired. She hadn’t slept in such a long time, but her mind wouldn’t slow down and the longer she waited to get her boy, the worse it became.

An explosion on the side of the Fortress drew her attention. She focused her audio and visual sensors in her helmet on the disturbance and saw that it hadn’t been an explosion, exactly, but a powerful blast that had blown out a section of a wall. Almost immediately, a figure flew out the newly made opening. Several moments later, that person was followed by another.

The two fliers battled far above Keldabe, close to the curved glass dome that imprisoned and protected the great city. They were so far above the city that few of the people below even took notice of them. Then, one of them dove, plummeting like a stone, falling and falling so quickly that she nearly thought he’d been killed in the fight, but, before he struck the ground, his jet pack flared to life and he pulled sharply out of his fall. As quick as lightening, he vanished into the city and didn’t reappear. Herna watched - he was gone. Coward. She didn’t know what the fight was about, but he had run and Herna had no tolerance for a coward. She began to lose interest, when the second combatant flew down to find the coward and she realized, very suddenly that it was Jango Fett. He wore no armor, just a black undersuit and jet pack.

Jango Fett. Jaster Mereel’s child.

Herna launched herself out of the alcove she’d taken shelter in and fell sharply towards the ground before she activated her jet pack and took flight. She followed Fett at a distance and watched the two engage in two more short fights, each time the unknown coward, as disgustingly unarmored as Fett, managed to slip away for a time.

Herna waited until she saw Fett catching up with his prey, getting closer and closer, each one of them dodging and darting between buildings. They got further from the center of Keldabe, venturing into the outskirts of the city. People became more sparse and the streetlights fewer and far between. She found a good vantage point and aimed her blaster. One shot knocked a flowerpot off the window ledge of an apartment and it fell, striking Fett on the shoulder and knocking him out of the air. He fell and hit the ground. He rolled several times before crashing into the side of a building before he slowly sat up, clutching at his arm.

Herna went up and watched the coward keep flying. It took him some time to realize that Fett was no longer on his trail and when he did, he landed. He slipped into the shadows of an alley between two buildings and stayed there. When Herna dropped down behind him, he cursed and raised his blaster, but not fast enough. Herna knocked it out of his hands with a sharp blow to his wrist.

He wore no armor, but fought and carried a blaster. It was baffling, but she had no time for riddles. “You fought Jango Fett.”

The coward narrowed his eyes at her. “Who are you?”

She stared at him for a moment before she said, “You came from the Fortress and you fought Jango Fett. You’re going to be useful to me. You will help me. I want to get into the Fortress and you’re going to arrange it.”

The coward scoffed and looked astounded. “You think I take orders from you? Who are you? I work for Mand’alor Pre Vizla and I am loyal only to Duchess Satine Kryze.” He held his blaster confidently, fare more confidently than any New Mandalorian would be able to. “You are nothing.”

Herna took him by the throat, squeezed, and lifted. His feet left the ground. “You are going to help me or I will give you the head of Satine Kryze in a box before I send your head and hers to Pre Vizla.” He struggled against her, fighting and kicking and swearing with what little breath she allowed him to have. It did no good against her armor. She gave him a rough shake. “You will help me and if, in the process, you fetch your Duchess and steal her away, it’s no care of mine.”

He stilled, then. She cautiously allowed him to stand on his feet and slowly released her grip on his throat.

When Herna finally let him go, he didn’t run or try to fight her. Instead, she watched him rub his throat for a minute. “I’ll get you into the Fortress, but I expect help in return. Come with me.”

He didn’t lead her far, only to a small house that was apparently abandoned. Inside, he retrieved a box of medical supplies and one of those supplies was a vial that contained a single pill.

“What is it?”

“Fyndal. It can imitate death.”

Jango-

Even in pain, Jango wasn’t nearly ready to give up the hunt. His shoulder did hurt, but he’d hunted more dangerous people with far worse injuries. The fall had damaged Myles’ jet pack, so that meant Jango was on foot. He raced quietly through every street and every alley, looking for the smallest sign of Lubek.

It was only by chance that he passed an alley and heard the sound of a blaster, sharp and short, ring out. He changed direction so quickly that he nearly skid off his feet and ran back to the alley where he found a verd he didn’t recognize standing over Lubek’s body, fallen and still on the ground. The verd looked at Jango, then, holstered their blaster and bent over. They grabbed Lubek and hoisted him onto their shoulder before turning to fully face Jango. “Problem?”

“I’ve been hunting him.”

“I got to him first.” The verd didn’t put Lubek down. Lubek hung over their shoulder with his head facing Jango. He looked pale, nearly white. “I am taking him back to Hutt space. He had a high bounty on his head. Dead or alive didn’t matter and the dead are easier to transport. Quieter, too.”

Jango moved closer. He suspiciously eyed the stranger, even when he pressed his fingertips against the quickly cooling skin on Lubek’s throat, looking for a pulse that he didn’t find. He put a hand over Lubek’s mouth and nose, but there was no breath. “He’s dead.”

“Yes.”

And Jango was glad. True, Satine wouldn’t be happy, but he didn’t like the idea of leaving Lubek alive to cause trouble. So he nodded and stepped away from the stranger and Lubek’s body. “You’re a bounty hunter?”

“I am.”

He didn’t recognize them, but there were many Mandalorians who worked in the very respectable career of bounty hunting so it wasn’t surprising that they’d never run across each other. Much as he would have been proud to bring Lubek’s body back to Jaster, he hadn’t slain this enemy and to take another hunter’s bounty would be far more trouble than Lubek was worth. Jango knew he would have never tolerated someone poaching his bounty, no matter what their reason.

He stepped back and gave the other a nod. “You’ve done me a favor this night. He’s certainly worth more dead than he was alive.” Then he left, very pleased that he could tell Satine she no longer had to worry about Lubek.

To Be Continued...

Mandokarla - the state of being an excellent Mandalorian

Ad - child

Ade - children

Chapter Text

Chapter 31: Kata

Mandalore-
Jaster’s Apartment-
Obi-Wan -

Jango left the apartment to go find Trion Lubek and, from what Obi-Wan had heard of the Bounty Hunter’s Guild, he was sure to find his quarry. Only moments after, Jaster escorted Satine to the yaim be bajur to reassure Satine that Bo-Katan was safe. A short time after they had left, Aranar seemed to get nervous. It began to pace the room, then it took its’ pup and set it on the couch next to Anakin before it went back to the door. It jumped up and put its' middle set of pawns on the wall then used one of its front paws to press the control panel on the door. The door opened and Aranar ran out.

“Where’s it going?” Anakin asked.

Obi-Wan shrugged. “Striil are very smart. I suppose it knows what its’ doing.”

Alone in Jaster’s apartment, Obi-Wan and Anakin sat on the couch and waited for the others to return. “Are you alright?” Obi-Wan asked. “Waking up and finding a stranger standing over you must have been scary.”

Anakin shrugged. “He didn’t hurt us and Sissy made him go away so it’s okay. She's pretty smart, you know. She can read. I'm gonna be smart, too. I’m going to learn everything. You’re going to be so impressed. I’m going to be the smartest kid here. I’ll learn how to read and write and look. Just look.” He took from his pocket a small white label with the name ‘Anakin’ written on it. “I saved it and soon I’ll write it.” It was the label that had come with his new clothes given to him by Padme. It had only been a few short days ago, but Obi-Wan was impressed by how carefully Anakin had kept the label. “And Sissy said I get to learn how to talk Mando’a and she’s gonna help and she said Bo-Katan will help. And Jaster said I get to learn history. Everything! I’m going to learn everything.” He was quiet for a moment them beamed up at Obi-Wan. “Mom would be so happy that I get to learn. You think?”

“I think your mom would be so pleased that she might start dancing on the wind.”

Anakin laughed. “Do you think Master Jinn would be proud of me? He said I was really smart.”

“He would never say he was proud of you.”

Anakin’s face fell. “But... but I promise I’ll learn really good.”

“Yes. But he still wouldn’t say it. Don’t look like that, my dear.” Obi-Wan wrapped an arm around Anakin’s shoulders. “This is one of those little cultural differences we were talking about earlier. Jedi younglings don’t get praise. It’s just not done.”

Anakin scrunched up his nose as he thought about that. “Why not?”

“Because praise can lead to younglings learning to be arrogant and self-righteous. Over confidence. Proud. As Jedi we can’t let those sort of qualities control us. So Jedi never give any praise to younglings.”

“Boss Jaster and Jango say nice things about us. They think you’re really great.”

“Yes, but it’s a different culture and they don’t mean any harm. Master Qui-Gon took me out of the Temple more than most padawans and even more than some Masters, so I know that outsiders hand praise out with surprising frequency. You should remember that if you become a Jedi, you won’t be getting praise for anything you do.”

“That doesn’t seem fair. How will I know if I’m doing things right or wrong?”

“It’s possible you might hear praise, but you’ll have to be sneaky about it.”

“Why?”

“Just because people won’t give you praise doesn’t mean they won’t praise you. Once, when we were very young junior Padawans, my buddy Quinlan and I spent a whole afternoon sneaking around the Temple to spy on our Masters. We were hiding under a Giant Low Fern in one of the gardens when we found them. Master Qui-Gon and Master Tholme were sitting by the pond and we heard them. Master Qui-Gon told Master Tholme that he was so proud of me because of my most recent marks in navigation. It was my worst class, but I’d gotten top marks on an exam the day before. Master Tholme said Quinlan wasn’t nearly as much of a terror as he used to be - he was even moderately obedient. Nearly all initiates and Padawans make a game of trying to eavesdrop to hear people say nice things about them.”

“That’s a weird game.”

“Maybe, but it was fun.”

“No one knew you were doing it?”

“I’d be surprised if we fooled anyone. After all, those who are Knights and Masters now used to be initiates and Padawans. They all did the same thing. I’ve heard stories from Grandmaster Dooku about the times he caught Master Qui-Gon hunting for praise. It’s all politely ignored spying and so long as no one directly, purposefully praises a youngling, it can be excused the result of the curiosity of youth. And I can tell you that Masters and Knights will have no apprehension about telling you off if you’re doing something wrong. No one hesitates about that.” Obi-Wan knew that from experience. He’d often enough gotten into trouble and earned a telling off right alongside his good friend, Quinlan. He spared a thought for Quinlan and wondered how he was doing.

Elsewhere-
Quinlan Vos-

With his padawan braid neatly hidden, pinned where he’d tucked it deep in his long, thick hair, Quinlan paced the length of the small ship he and his Master took to travel from Coruscant to Naboo. The braid would stay hidden during the mission as they didn’t want anyone to know they were Jedi. He walked with his long arms swinging at his sides and his eyes glaring at the ship around him.

“Calm, my Padawan,” Master Tholme said from the pilot’s seat. “I can feel the agitation rolling off you.”

“He’s got Arkon Poisoning,” Quinlan said. “When I see Obi-Wan, I’m gonna smack him. He knows better! The smartest guy I know and he goes right into the one place on that planet that... that could... that might kill him.”

“Did you think he’d do any differently with his Master dying in front of him?”

Quinlan wrapped his arms around himself to stop himself from punching a wall. He breathed deep and worked hard to calm his anger. Master Qui-Gon was dead. Rejoined the Force. Gone. It wasn’t fair. “No. He wouldn’t. He’s Obi-Wan, he wouldn’t let anyone suffer in front of him, even if they deserved it.” And Master Qui-Gon certainly hadn’t deserved it. While he hadn’t be a perfect man or Jedi, he had done his best and, as a bit of an outsider with his often radical ways of doing things, he’d often lent a kindly sympathetic ear when Quinlan, who also didn’t quite fit in with the others in the Temple, needed to talk.

From the cockpit, Master Tholme stood up and walked back to join Quinlan in the main part of the ship. “It will take a couple more days for us to reach Naboo. You will need to calm yourself in order to complete this mission and, in order to calm yourself, you MUST accept that there is nothing you can do to help Obi-Wan. We both want to help him, but he is beyond us, right now.” He put his hands on Quilan’s shoulders and looked up at him. “We will trust Masters Dooku, Windu, and Koon to save our Obi-Wan. They are excellently competent. We will find Senator Palpatine’s weakness and decide how best to exploit it so he can never again threaten younglings.”

Quinlan felt his hot blood cool as his worry steadied into something more controllable. He smiled. “Forgive me, Master. You’re right. This is what Obi-Wan would want us to do, save others. I can still blow up a ship, right?”

“Of course. We’ll find you a nice one. I brought those explosives you like, the ones that let off multiple colors when they detonate.”

“Thank you, Master.”

Mandalore-
Obi-Wan-

“Will you tell me a story?” Anakin asked as the night wore on and there was no sign of Jaster, Jango, or Satine returning. Aranar did return, letting itself into the apartment as easily as it had let itself out.

“Do you want another story about living at the Temple?”

Anakin shook his head. “I want to know how you met Sissy. When we first got here, you made it sound like something really big. When were you here, before?”

It was a big story, but one that Obi-Wan didn’t mind telling. So much had happened during that year as he and Satine kept just out of reach of Death Watch’s murderous hands. He told about hungry nights and exhausted days, about discovering that the villages around Mandalore were so different than the city. He told Anakin how he and Satine had spent hours watching the stars. He even mentioned his illicit use of a blaster to keep them safe.

“You were funny when I said I was going to learn how to use all kinds of weapons and a lightsaber ‘cause I’m gonna be a Jedi and a Mandalorian,” Anakin said. “Is it bad for Jedi to use weapons, then?”

“It’s against the law. In the Republic, we can only use lightsabers. I’m sorry if that disappoints you.”

Anakin shrugged. “It’s okay. It’s dumb, but it’s okay. I’ll just use blasters and swords when I’m not in the Republic. Boss Jaster won’t mind.”

The stories went on for a while, but Anakin was only nine and it had been a very busy day and long night. It wasn’t long before he lost interest in the stories and yawned.

“It’s alright to sleep,” Obi-Wan told Anakin. “You don’t have to stay up.”

“I don’t want to sleep,” Anakin leaned his head against Obi-Wan. “Sissy needs blankets.” He held one of the blankets that had been in the sleeping pit Anakin and Obi-Wan had been using, ready to give it to Satine the moment she returned.

A few minutes passed and Anakin shifted to laying down on the couch with his head on Obi-Wan’s lap. Obi-Wan petted Anakin’s hair and, soon, Anakin’s eyes drifted closed. Slowly, Anakin’s hand that wasn’t holding the blanket drifted up to his face and he started to suck his thumb. It was such a childish thing that it took Obi-Wan aback. Anakin was so mature for his age, almost frighteningly intelligent. That maturity and intelligence had helped him to survive his horrific childhood, but seeing Anakin clutching a blanket and sucking his thumb made him seem far younger than his nine years.

Obi-Wan felt a fierce, sudden wave of protectiveness for Anakin. It was humbling, almost overwhelmingly so, to think that Anakin was so dependent on him.

‘At least there are other people to help protect him, now. People much stronger than I am - Grandmaster, everyone at home, Jaster, Jango, Padme... so many people.’ And he wondered, despite his earlier conclusion that bringing Anakin to the Temple was the right path, if it really was what was best for Anakin. Jaster liked Anakin very much and would soon be the most powerful person in the entire Mandalorian Empire. Even if, by some odd chance, he didn’t win his challenges, he could easily provide for Anakin. But Anakin was such a gentle little soul, he would surely not flourish in a life of violence and, no matter how well Obi-Wan liked Mandalorians, there was no disputing the fact that they celebrated their violent culture. Just the thought of Anakin going to war was chilling - he would hate every moment of it.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Anakin murmured without opening his eyes. “You feel fuzzy.”

“Sorry.” Obi-Wan dismissed his wandering thoughts to something more peaceful.

He did feel more at peace after telling Jaster and Doctor Gihan the truth about the Arkon Poisoning. It was a burden off his mind, though he did regret causing them any anxiety. He did feel rather selfish for easing his mind at the expense of their peace, but he had the feeling they wouldn’t appreciate it if he were to apologize for being honest.

The night crept on, silent and still. From the little window, Obi-Wan could see stars and the moon as it slowly moved across the sky. Once in a while, he heard someone walking in the hall outside. He heard a couple of jet packs. It was very peaceful and he was so tired. Despite how he’d planned to stay awake to politely wait for his hosts to return, he was soon as fast asleep as Anakin.

...

...

“Kenobi?” A warm hand shook Obi-Wan’s arm. “Ken’ika?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and found Jaster looking down at him. The sun had risen. Obi-Wan blinked and rubbed his eyes. From the look of the sun, it was well after dawn. He hadn’t woken so late in years.

“We have some things to talk about, Ken’ika.” Then he gave Anakin’s shoulder a little shake. “An’ika? Time to wake up.”

Anakin’s eyes sprung open and he jumped off the couch so quickly that he tangled his feet in the blanket he’d been saving for Satine and tripped himself. “I’m awake! I’m ready! Mommy!” Then, still on the floor, he blinked and looked around. When he saw Satine, his face lit up.

Anakin jumped to his feet and started to bring the blanket to her. He had just held it out to her when, to Anakin’s apparent shock, the pup, Kal, charged over and bit the tail end of the blanket that had been dragging on the floor.

“Hey!” Anakin pulled Kal away from the blanket. “That’s for Sissy!”

The minute he put Kal on the floor, the pup ran back to him and got another hold on the blanket. It growled and wagged its’ tail when Anakin tried to pull the blanket away. When Anakin pulled harder, Kal yanked backwards in what Obi-Wan thought was probably the most adorable game of tug-of-war he’d ever seen. Finally, Anakin, with a pout, lifted the blanket up. Kal held on, still happily growling and wagging its tail as it was held a good few inches above the ground. Anakin went to Satine and offered the blanket to her. “You need more blankets so this is for you. I guess you can have Kal, too.”

Satine, for all that she looked exhausted, took the blanket with one hand and easily caught Kal with the other. She held Kal and when she knelt down to look Anakin in the eye, she set Kal on her lap and scratched behind its’ ears. “Thank you. That’s very kind. I’ll sleep well, now. But I don’t think you should be giving away Jaster’s pet...”

“Oh, no!” Jaster said, boisterously. “Its’ happy enough to have the attention. If you leave the door of your room open, Aranar will come in later to take it off your hands... or maybe it will join you. It does go where it pleases. I’m afraid that Aranar rather runs the show here.” He sat on the couch with Obi-Wan and let Aranar crawl onto his lap where he put a big arm around it. “What’s all this about presents? If you need something, you just need to ask.”

“Obi said the Day of Service is coming soon and we need to help people. I saw that Sissy only had one blanket in her room and it’s so cold here that she needs more.”

“Speaking of which,” Obi-Wan said. “I would very much like to participate in the Day of Service by working for someone, even if it’s just a little chore.”

Jaster rubbed at the back of his neck. “Given your health, I’m not sure that would be safe.” He gave a rueful laugh. “Unless you think you can write an inspiring speech that will capture the hearts and minds of all Mandalorians. I’ve been working on it for days and I just can’t think of anything to say. I suppose writing wouldn’t be too taxing.”

Obi-Wan almost sighed with happiness. Words. He was very good with words. “I’m pleased to be of service to you, Jaster. I think I may be able to come up with something suitable.”

Jaster pulled a couple of chairs over from the eating table so that he and Satine could sit facing Obi-Wan and Anakin. “And now we need to have a serious word. Has Jango been back?”

“Not yet. What’s going on?”

Jaster told them about how they’d been informed about the bomb at the yaim be bajur and how Satine had determinedly stayed, despite the danger, to give everyone time to get safely away. Satine, somewhat awkwardly, told Obi-Wan that she’d worn armor for the first time. Jaster had rather forced the issue, but she hadn’t tried to take it off once he’d given it to her. It was shortly after that when Jango returned with a temper fit to take the skin of the back of a rancor.

He marched in, looked at everyone in the room as if he were counting heads to make sure everyone was where they should be before he announced,

“Lubek’s dead.” When Satine’s face fell at the news, Jango all but snarled, “Don’t you feel sorry for him! Don’t you even think of pitying him. I know you cared for him, but he was not good. He deserved exactly what he got!” Jango stormed across the room and told Satine, “Hold out your hands.” When she did as she was told, Jango have her a handful of data sticks. “When I was looking around to find out more about Lubek I found this. He’s been watching you and it’s nothing new. I searched his apartment and looked on his personal computer and his data pad. There are more than a hundred hours of video of you, obviously taken without your knowledge. Those data sticks are filled with the evidence!”

Satine stared at the data sticks in her hands, horrified.

“I also found out that this used to be your apartment,” Jango went on. “Some of the video recordings he had of you were from inside this room.” He went to just near the door where a control pad was set into the wall - the common type of thing that could control lighting and temperature and the like in a room. He studied it for a moment before he pulled a small foldable knife out of one of the pouches on his belt and used it to pry loose one of the buttons. The button landed in his hand and he looked at it closely. “Yup. It’s a visual and audio transmitter. I had signal jammers set up in here when we arrived so we’re alright now, but I’ll get the recording devices out of here and your room. Now that I know to look for them, it won’t take long.” He told Satine, “So don’t waste your pity on him.”

Satine frowned at the data sticks he’d given her, then leaned over and put them on the little side table next to the couch, looking for all the world as if she were holding a handful of worms. “And he’s dead? You’re sure?”

“We fought for a bit, but he got away from me for a few minutes. When I caught up with him, a bounty hunter had got him. I checked for a heartbeat and breathing. Nothing.”

Jaster nodded. “That’s good. We won’t have to bother with a trial. We’ll save the data sticks, though. Just in case. I wonder what he could have done to get a bounty put on his head?”

“No idea. I can check, if you like. Easy enough to find out.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t possibly celebrate the death of a person, but he was relieved that neither Satine or Anakin would have to worry about that Trion Lubek anymore.

“Did you find the bomb?” Anakin asked Jaster.

“Yes, but the yaim be bajur has had to be evacuated so a thorough search can be conducted on the chance that Lubek left more than one explosive. Everyone who has families has gone back to them and those who don’t have families - foundlings - are staying in the Fortress until the yaim be bajur is declared safe. It will take a couple of days, so it looks like my challenge match and the Festival of Stars will be delayed, again. It’s unfortunate, but we must have priorities and I think everyone is too on edge to enjoy such an occasion after having a high ranking authority attempting to commit such a dastardly crime.”

Satine groaned and slouched over, burying her face in the blanket Anakin had given her and holding little Kal close. “Don’t remind me. I’ll have to make a statement informing the public of what’s going on. Everyone will already know about the evacuation so rumors will start to swarm around and... oh, no.” When she sat up straight, she looked so tired that she might drop. “Accomplices. He’ll have accomplices. Everyone he associates with will have to be questioned. The other advisors... personal friends... me...” Jaster started to protest, but Satine rolled her eyes. “Of course I’m suspect. He was my chief advisor, he always around. Everyone knew I listened to his advice. What a mess.”

Obi-Wan couldn’t argue with her. In a completely objective investigation, she was a suspect, perhaps the most important one. Though Obi-Wan had no doubt of her innocence, it was likely that others would think she had been working with Lubek. Satine bid them a good day and went to get some sleep in one of Jaster’s spare sleeping rooms.

“Well, I have more work to do. I know I’m missing something about Lubek,” Jango said. “I want to find out what the bounty on his head was for and there were funds in his credit account that didn’t make sense so - ”

Jaster caught Jango by the arm as he headed for the door. “Go to sleep.”

“I’m busy, buir.”

“You’re sleepy, that’s what you are. I won’t have you wandering about half-asleep with that itchy trigger finger of yours. Go sleep.”

“I’m not an ad. I can decide for myself when I sleep.”

Jaster bent down and tapped his forehead against Jango’s. “Of course you can. Now go to sleep before you make your poor old buir cry.”

“That’s emotional manipulation.”

“Is it working?”

Jango scowled. “Yes.” And he went to his sleeping room.

***

When everyone else was asleep and the apartment was quiet, Obi-Wan couldn’t fall asleep. He was tired, the sickness made him constantly tired, but his mind was too busy. So much had happened and he needed time to think about whether or not Anakin would be better off staying on Mandalore or going to the Temple. Would Anakin even want to go to the Temple? He was adapting rather well to life on Mandalore. What if he didn’t want to stay, but it was for the best?

‘I can’t force him to stay, I can’t just leave him.’ In their sleeping pit, Obi-Wan stared at the ceiling as he thought. It was getting close to midday, but Jaster had been adamant that everyone needed to rest after such a night. ‘He’d think I was abandoning him.’ Only then, when he was trying to decide what was best for Anakin, did Obi-Wan realize he’d lost the books.

It felt like a punch to the gut. Doctor Iz had been so kind to give him books on how to take care of children with trauma and survivors of slavery and he had lost them. He hadn’t seen the books since the explosion when Death Watch had attacked Keldabe.

He got out of the sleeping pit as quietly as he could to keep from waking Anakin, got the cane Doctor Gihan had so kindly let him borrow. He left a note for Jaster on the eating table, saying where he was going and why, then left.

The infirmary wasn’t all that far off, but to get to it, Obi-Wan walked passed a large, formerly empty room, where there were a great many cots set up and more than a dozen people. He realized that these were the people from the yaim be bajur who needed shelter while the building was being searched.

The far end of the room held a single crib where an infant was sleeping while a care giver sat next to the crib. There were a few younglings playing a game that resembled tag but involved clubs, and a few adults. It was all well-organized and there were guards from the yaim be bajur standing around the perimeter of the room.

Obi-Wan was about to move on, but stopped short. He stared. His mouth actually fell open.

In a corner of the room, an old woman was crying.

Obi-Wan felt as if his heart had stopped.

The old woman stood in the corner, pressing herself against the stone walls. Her arms were wrapped around herself while tears flowed freely down her cheeks. Teacher Frewn was with her, calmly speaking to her, but the woman didn’t seem to hear her.

Doctor Gihan walked into the room, looked around momentarily, then went straight to Teacher Frewn and the old woman.

Obi-Wan walked into the room. He was aware of the guards taking note of him, but no one stopped him. He went slowly closer and closer and, more than ever, regretted that he couldn’t feel the Force.

Doctor Gihan asked Teacher Frewn, “What’s her name?”

“We don’t know. She was found in a drifting ship. She’s never been clear-minded enough to even tell us her name. We’ve always called her Lil. She’s been living in the medical wing of the yaim be bajur for a few years so she can be taken care of and she’s usually calm, but this change has been a bit too much. Can you give her anything to help her rest? She’s frightened.”

“What have you tried to help her?” Doctor Gihan asked.

Teacher Frewn said, “Everything. We’ve had several doctors suggest treatments, but nothing helps. We’ve tried every therapy, every medication they recommended, but her condition remains the same.”

“She likes Gelin tea. She used to drink it when she wanted to relax.” Everyone turned to look at Obi-Wan when he spoke. He took a step closer and his heart hurt to see her like this. “Her name is Master Maren Telno. She was a very great friend of my grandmaster. I thought... we all thought she was dead. We had a memorial for her.”

“She was a Jedi?” Teacher Frewn asked.

“She IS a Jedi.”

Master Telno looked so much the same as the last time Obi-Wan had seen her, but also so different. She wasn’t injured. She appeared to be in perfectly good physical health. But those dark eyes that used to spark and shine when she told Obi-Wan the old stories of people who’d lived long before he’d been born where soft and frightened. There was no recognition when she looked at Obi-Wan. She didn’t stand tall, anymore, but had her arms wrapped around herself and stood slightly hunched over, as if she were trying to protect herself. But she was clean and well-fed and Obi-Wan was grateful.

He put a hand on her arm. “Master Telno? Are you alright?”

She looked at him out of the corner of her eye, then slowly faced him. She gave him a watery, uncertain smile. “I’m sorry. I’m lost.”

Obi-Wan didn’t cry for her. It would have been inappropriate to be so lacking in self-control when she needed others to be strong for her. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m happy to see you, Master Telno.”

“Happy, yes.” She squinted him, as if trying to see him through a dense fog. “It’s dark. Danger. Dark. It’s so dark.” She started crying, again. It seemed like she would never stop. Obi-Wan couldn’t just stand there and do nothing when she was in such pain.

Doctor Gihan leaned close and whispered to him, “Can you think of anything that might comfort her? She may not be able to remember being a Jedi, but anything you can think of might help.”

Obi-Wan was very conscious that everyone in the room was watching them. The little younglings might not know what was going on, but they were watching. The guards were tense, waiting. It occurred to him that they might not know Master Telno, but they did know Lil. They had been with her for years and they were worried for her.

“She used to teach katas to the initiates.” Obi-Wan remembered those classes, very well. He said to Master Telno, “Please, will you do the First Form with me? Just to be sure I do it right?”

Without being asked, everyone in the room seemed to move at once. Cots were moved away to form a large open area around Master Telno and Obi-Wan. The younglings were ushered onto the cots to watch, quietly. Everyone waited. It seemed they all held their breaths.

Obi-Wan took a few steps backwards, but stayed where she could see him. He put himself in the correct starting position, then began the slow, easy movements. It was challenging with the cane, but he kept it in hand as he did the kata. First Form was the most basic of all kata forms. A series of five movements, repeated over and over. It was meant to be done slowly, a physical way to relax the mind, a sort of meditation for those who had difficulty sitting still for long periods of time. All initiates were taught the First Form before they were allowed to move on to more difficult training and all of them, for nearly twenty years, had been taught by Master Telno.

When Obi-Wan finished the kata, he started it, again. He repeated the moves over and over and over and the longer he did it, he noticed that Master Telno’s cries lessened. Slowly, she began to repeat Obi-Wan’s movements and with each moment, those moves became more confidant, more fluid, as if she were finally able to remember something she had learned in her youth. Eventually she stopped crying and had calmed enough for Doctor Gihan and Teacher Frewn to get her to a cot so she could rest.

Obi-Wan watched for a short time. Master Telno fell asleep. Doctor Gihan and Teacher Frewn spoke about her condition. There was nothing more for Obi-Wan to do. He let out a breath and gathered his robe around him.

“Kenobi?” Doctor Gihan came to stand with him. “I think we should get you back to Jaster’s apartment. This has been too much for you. You look exhausted. You need to take care of yourself, remember?”

But Obi-Wan stiffened his shoulders. “I am a Jedi. I am in control of my emotions, they are not in control of me. I was surprised to see her, but I’m fine. I need to get something from the infirmary.”

Doctor Gihan frowned at him, but finally nodded. “I’m going back there myself. I’ll walk with you.”

But as they walked, Obi-Wan couldn’t help but think of the very few words Master Telno had spoken. “It’s dark. Danger. Dark. It’s so dark.”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 32: Master Koon

Mandalore-
Jaster-

Three days before the end of the Solstice Storm, Jaster was in the infirmary for an early morning meeting with Doctor Vo Gihan.

Vo asked Jaster, “How are things going?”

Jaster raised an eyebrow. “Considering I have a little boy who still seems to think he’s a slave half the time, a girl who is dealing with the betrayal of someone she considered a second buir and doesn’t want any help, and a dying boy all in my apartment? Pretty well. Sat’ika released a statement to the public about Lubek and his threats against the yaim be bajur and that there is an ongoing investigation into all of Lubek’s known associates.”

Vo asked, “Is she still including herself in the investigation?”

“Oh, yes. Seems to think everyone will expect it. As if anyone could think that a nice little girl -”

“She is nearly an adult.”

“That a nice little girl like her could possibly be involved in anything like that. Why, it’s absurd! It’s almost as absurd as when Jango worried that the Jedi would think we had kidnapped their ade after we rescued Ken’ika and An’ika. Ridiculous!”

Vo put a hand up to scratch at the back of his neck. “Yes... about that. I know you never spent much time outside the Empire, but have you thought about the possibility that Jango might be right? Maybe the Jedi will be ready to believe the worst of us? We don’t have the best history with them, after all.”

“No.” Jaster didn’t even give it a thought. “No, that couldn’t happen. Bad relations or not, no one could possibly imagine that any decent Mandalorian would hurt an ad.”

“What bout Lubek?”

“I said ‘decent’. And I am a very decent Mandaloiran. Now, any news about Kenobi’s condition?”

Vo’s shoulders sunk. “No. I have a team working around the clock, but we’re no closer than we were when he first decided to tell us. I can’t believe he thought he was doing us a favor by not telling us he was dying because he wanted to spare us the worry.”

“I can. He’s entirely too selfless. The poor baby is dying and he wrote a speech for me. Have you ever heard of such a thing? He wrote me a five-page speech, outlining my plans for the Empire, changes in policies and personnel, and emphasizing the hopes I have for the future of our people. It was very moving. I almost cried. And he wrote it because it’s a Jedi holiday and he wanted to do something fun. Fun! He thanked me for letting him do the work!”

“We have to be prepared for the worst.” Vo sniffed and rubbed his face with his hands. “He may not make it. It’s as if his whole body is just... well... slowing down. I believe that if we can’t find a cure, very soon, his body will slow down so much that it just stops.”

Jaster froze and closed his eyes. He’d seen death. It was no stranger. He’d seen many people die who hadn’t deserved to, people whose lives had brightened the universe. He had even experienced the horror of watching ade die. He had seen both violence, illness, and bad luck take lives. He had, naturally, killed many himself - some he regretted, but most he didn’t. Death didn’t frighten him, but to see an innocent such as Kenobi fading before his eyes, helpless to prevent what was beginning to seem unavoidable. Every day that passed seemed to drain a little more energy from Kenobi.

“Jaster,” Vo leaned closer and put a hand on Jaster’s arm. “I’m just saying - if you want him as part of your family, you should consider doing it sooner rather than later. And we should make sure Anakin understands. I’m going to have a word with his therapist about this. Anakin will have an appointment with him tomorrow and they can talk, then.”

“I don’t like talking as if it’s inevitable. He has faith that his people will arrive in time to save him. I will have that same faith. We can’t give up on him.”

“And we won’t. But Kenobi’s death would hurt Anakin so much more than it would hurt us. To let him believe that there is no danger and then have Kenobi die - it would be cruel.”

And Jaster saw the sense in that. “After the Festival. We already promised Kenobi - we won’t tell An’ika until after the Festival.”

Jaster left Doctor Gihan’s office and headed back to his apartment. He was just passing by the Fortress’ mess hall when he heard Satine’s name and stopped to listen. He wasn’t exactly hiding when he froze at a corner, then stepped back so he could listen without being seen. But if they’d wanted privacy, they should have been on the alert for eavesdroppers.

“The Duchess was out there nearly all night.” The voice was easily recognizable as Nole, Satine’s ladies’ maid. “Right in the middle of the yaim be bajur, without a single weapon or piece of armor, she stayed right there to be sure the students could be evacuated. I was so proud.”

“You’re making it up,” another voice said. “How would you know what happened?”

“Because she likes to chat when I do her hair in the morning. And my riduur was one of the verd helping with the evacuation and he saw it all. Alor Mereel tried to get her to leave, but she practically spat in his face for even suggesting it!”

Jaster frowned. He didn’t remember it like that.

Nole continued. “So Alor Mereel actually took off his own armor and started putting it on her!”

A third voice asked, “She wore armor? Really? She didn’t just rip it off the minute he tried to put it on her?”

“No! She kept it on and wore it proudly. It didn’t fit, of course, she’s such a skinny little dear, but she kept it on. Didn’t even try to take it off.”

There was a silence for such a long time that Jaster started to think they might have all left, when a soft voice said, “You think she’s starting to understand us? Putting herself in danger to protect ade? Armor? All she needs is a decent weapon.”

Nole sounded smugly triumphant when she said, “I told you all before - she’s a fine Mando’ad. She just needed time to get all that Republic nonsense out of her system and see what good, decent people behave like. I always knew she was one of us and I’ll have her back in any battle!”

There was a murmur of approval from the group before they moved on and Jaster, still waiting out of sight, smiled. If things kept going in the right direction, he’d have Satine ready to be the next Mand’alor within a decade. Jango would be very happy to have that responsibility firmly on someone else’s shoulders.

Jaster returned to his apartment to find a wonderfully domestic scene.

Satine sat with Jango at the eating table with blaster parts set out carefully on the table in front of them. Satine frowned as she listened intently to his instruction of how to assemble and disassemble a blaster. It was an easy exercise - most Mandalorian ade could do it easily before they reached their tenth birthday - and Jaster had no doubt Satine would manage it, but at that moment, she was struggling. She didn’t even like to touch the blaster, but she was trying and Jango was showing a surprising amount of patience.

‘I should have given him siblings years ago,’ Jaster thought. ‘He’s taken to the role of ori’vod like he was born for it.’ But then he thought of Jango’s lost younger sibling, Arla, and felt a stab of pain for the stolen child as well as for Jango. No new sibling could replace Arla, but Jango had a big heart. Many might not see it, but Jaster knew Jango had more than enough love to welcome new siblings into his life.

Kenobi and Anakin sat on the couch where Anakin was watching carefully as Kenobi untied the long braid that hung down the side of his face and rested on his shoulder. Jaster knew he was ignorant about Jetii, but even he knew that the braid had great significance to them, even if he didn’t entirely understand what that significance was. Kenobi carefully undid the braid, then brushed it out with his fingers before he slowly retied it, letting Anakin watch and learn.

For all the peace of the morning, Jaster couldn’t quite enjoy it. The children had too many problems. He had a list.

In truth, he’d had a list of problems that needed to be solved since Jango, clawing and spitting like a savage little monster, had tumbled into Jaster’s life. The list had grown in the past few days with such things as: ‘Satine gave up her home for me.’ and ‘Satine needs a good buir.’ Notes about Anakin ran the gamut from ‘Needs to have his buir. Go to Tatooine to fetch her.’ to ‘Nightmares. Heard him crying. Needs hugs?’ Worst of all was the most urgent note about Kenobi. ‘Dying. Fix!’ It was a newly added note, added the same day Kenobi had confessed the seriousness of his condition. Kenobi had other notes, of course, and it seemed the list might keep growing the longer Jaster knew him.

Finished with his braid, Kenobi picked up a book that had been sitting beside him on the couch and held it so Anakin could easily see it. Kenobi read aloud while his finger traced along under the words.

“Chapter One - Structure. It is important to remember,” Kenobi read. “That despite the hardships that might have been endured, structure and consistency is of utmost importance for any person as they recover from...” Kenobi looked up and saw Jaster. “Hello. I hope everything went well at your meeting.”

It did not. There was still very little hope of saving Kenobi.

“It went well enough, I suppose. What are you reading?”

Anakin looked up with those wonderfully innocent eyes and beamed. “Obi’s reading to me. Look.” He took the book from Kenobi and showed it to Jaster. The title of the book was “The Care of Youths with Chaotic Backgrounds - An Open Look at Abuse and Neglect”. Then Anakin picked up another book that had also been on the couch next to Kenobi. That one had the title, “The Trauma of Youngling Slavery and a Strong Recovery.”

Anakin kept smiling. “It’s because I’m a traumatic youngling and a chaotic youth. Right, Obi?”

Kenobi considered the question. “I might not have used those words, exactly, but it does seem accurate.” He said to Jaster. “Doctor Iz was kind enough to give them to me. For Anakin, you understand.”

Kenobi had dark circles under his eyes. He was too pale.

Jaster went to sit with them, but before he could, the communicator on his vambrace went off. He pressed the button on his vambrace that would allow everyone to hear the message.

“Alor,” a voice said. “You should come to the Communication Center. There’s a break in the storm. It won’t last long, but I think we have an incoming transmission from the Jetii.”

Jaster instantly turned to Kenobi, his heart beginning to race even though it wasn’t his people who were contacting them. “If we hurry, we can see your people.” But Kenobi wasn’t very fast, given his health. “How proud are you?”

Kenobi sniffed and raised his nose. “I am a Jedi. Pride is beneath me.”

“That’s good to hear. Jango?”

“On it.” Jango was on his feet in a flash and Jaster headed for the door.

“Hey!” Kenobi protested. Jaster didn’t bother to turn around because he knew very well that Jango was a sensible lad and was doing what needed to be done to get Kenobi to the Communication Center in time to speak with his people.

Anakin started to laugh.

Satine called out, “Hold on tight, Obi-Wan!”

Jaster got to the door and opened it and when he did, he turned just enough to see Jango rushing at the open door with Kenobi tossed over his shoulder. Kenobi, looking a bit shocked at his predicament, held on with one hand on Jango’s jet pack and the other hand on Jango’s belt while Jango held Kenobi’s cane in one hand as he would hold a sword and kept his other arm wrapped firmly around Kenobi’s legs to keep him in place.

After taking just enough time to yell over his shoulder, “An’ika, Sat’ika, take care of each other and stay in the apartment!” Jaster took off running, staying just ahead of Jango to clear the halls for him. They reached the Communication Center in good time, but Jango didn’t put Kenobi on his feet until they were in the room and every technician there was staring at them except a young man working at a terminal, typing on the keyboard at a furious pace.

Once he was on his feet, Kenobi took a moment to steady himself and sent a look at Jango that was likely meant to be scathing, but looked like a pout. “Thank you for the ride.”

Jango grinned in return. “You’re welcome. Now, go on.” He gestured into the room. “Someone wants to talk to you.”

“Well?” Jaster went to the technician focused entirely on his work station. “What have we got?”

“We’ve almost got a connection, Alor Mereel. Just another moment.” He wasn’t one of Jaster’s True Mandalorians and from the look of his unscarred skin, the light-weight clothing he wore, and his overall softness, Jaster guessed the young man was one of the self-styled ‘New Mandalorians’, the ones who wanted to be pacifists. Jaster didn’t understand that sort of thinking. Not wanting to be a thoughtless murderer like the maniacs in Death Watch was entirely sensible, but not wanting to fight... ever? He certainly wouldn’t be able to live like that.

“Here! I’ve got it!” The young man pressed a few more buttons and the large screen in the Communication Center lit up.

For a bit, there was only gray static to be seen, but, gradually, the image cleared. Surprisingly, it wasn’t the same Jetii they’d seen the previous time they’d been able to establish contact. This was a Kel Dor. Naturally, the Kel Dor wore a breathing mask as well as protective coverings over his eyes to protect him from the atmosphere his people couldn’t tolerate.

“Padawan Kenobi,” the Kel Dor said. There was a vague hint of warmth in the voice. “I am relieved to see you.”

Jaster looked back at Kenobi and motioned him to move closer. Kenobi did, though he seemed to make an effort to hide his cane behind the folds of his brown robe, as if he were ashamed of it. “Master Koon. Thank you for coming. I have Anakin Skywalker with me and he’s very well, but... Master Qui-Gon...”

The Kel Dor held up a hand, his fingers tipped with vicious looking claws. “Do not trouble yourself. Queen Amidala was kind enough to contact us as soon as her communications system was repaired to inform us of the outcome of the battle. Master Dooku also felt the shockwave of Master Jinn’s death. We know that Master Jinn has rejoined the Force. We rejoice for him.”

Kenobi bowed his head and repeated, “We rejoice for him.” But when he raised his head he said, “I want everyone to know that we’ve been treated very kindly. Master Koon, this is Alor Mereel.” Kenobi motioned to Jaster, then to Jango. “And this is Jango. They, and many others here, have been very accepting. We’ve been given food, shelter, and medical care.”

“More than most would have done.” Master Koon bowed his head to Jaster and Jango. “You have not only my thanks, but that of the Jedi Order.”

The technician who’d made the connection with the Jetii said, “This isn’t going to last much longer.”

And just as he said that, the image of Master Koon was interrupted with a flare of static before clearing. Master Koon said, “We are coming. Master Windu is with me and...” A flare of static. “We are on the edge of the storm and waiting for it to clear. Can you wait for us?”

Kenobi nodded. “Yes, Master Koon. It’s only a couple more days. I will be alright.’

“He’s sick,” Jaster said. “We know about the Arkon poisoning and we’re working on a cure, but can you tell us what to do?”

Master Koon reached for something beside him, then brought up onto the console in front of him a metal box. He unlocked the box, then pulled a syringe filled with some sort of clear liquid out of the box. “This is the cure. We’ll be able to administer it as soon as we get to Mandalore. I trust there will be no issue with us coming to Mandalore?”

It was insulting. Jaster puffed up his chest. “You think I would keep your children from you? I am no monster. Of course you will come to Mandalore.” Even if it broke Jaster’s heart to give them up.

The strangest thing happened then.

The Jetii gave Jaster a looked of fondness. Perhaps many people might not have been able to tell because of how much of the Kel Dor’s face was covered, but Jaster was Mandalorian, born and bred, and he knew how to read body language just as well as he could read facial expressions. Master Koon was looking at him with fondness - affection, even.

Master Koon said, “Thank you, Jaster. We will arrive shortly.” He looked back at Kenobi. “We will need to have a serious conversation, Padawan Kenobi. There is a senator who has made a rather unorthodox request of the Council.” A burst of static. “Appropriate measures have been taken and...” Static. “Young Skywalker has caught his attention and...” static. “Discuss it when we arrive.”

A senator? The creepy senator Anakin had mentioned when they’d first met, the one he said was paying too much attention to Kenobi? Jaster narrowed his eyes and his hand drifted down to the comforting weight of his blaster at his side.

“Master Koon!” Kenobi said as the image of Master Koon faded more and more into static. “Please, tell everyone at the Temple I’m thinking of them. Tell grandmaster and great-grandmaster that I...” He broke off when the image of Master Koon faded into static and didn’t return.

“Sorry,” the young technician said. “We lost him. We’ll try to get him back.”

Kenobi thanked the man and walked back into the hall with Jaster and Jango. Once the door of the Communication Center closed and they were alone in the hall, Kenobi said, “Thank you. It means a lot to be able to see him. You’d like Master Koon if you were able to meet him, properly. He’s a good friend of my grandmaster, just like... like Master Telno.” His hands tightened on the head of the cane. “I’m going to have to tell everyone about Master Telno. And what will she do when she sees them?”

Jaster didn’t have an answer. He wished he could help and wipe some of the anxiety from Kenobi’s eyes, but he was no expert in healing a troubled mind. “We can speak to your psych-medic in the morning. She may be able to help,” Jaster said. “Jango, how many ships do we have left after Death Watch’s attack on the landing field?”

“Not many. There are six that were left entirely untouched by the attack, but they’re fairly small crafts. There are a dozen more in the process of being repaired; they should be finished in a couple of days. Silas has been keeping me updated about the progress being made on those ships. There are also privately owned ships whose owners are making their own repairs, but I don’t know when everything will be cleaned up.”

“It’s good enough. When the Solstice Storm ends, take three of the six working ships and send some verd to meet our Jetii guests. Give them an armed escort to the planet. I don’t want anything to risk that medicine.”

Naboo-
Queen Padme Amidala-

In her chambers, Padme sat at her desk, thinking. She could look out her window and see the city, already heavily under repair. Within a week or so, it would be as if nothing had happened. “Lucky,” she murmured. “Very lucky.”

Her office door slid open without her command and it made her look up sharply, reaching for the small blaster at her hip.

There, in the doorway, stood a young man dressed in the gray smock all the custodial staff wore. He blinked at her, clearly startled to find her there. Padme made a note to speak with the palace staff more. She thought she knew everyone who worked in the palace, but she didn’t recognize him. “Can I help you?”

The young man shifted awkwardly from foot-to-foot. “Sorry, Your Majesty.” He ducked his head when he spoke, not meeting her eyes. “Didn’t mean to intrude. I thought I was to clean in here now. Must have got my schedule mixed up. I’ll leave.”

“No. Of course, you must do your work. I’m leaving in a moment, anyhow.” She stood up from her desk and walked to stand near the wall, to be well out of his way. “I was only thinking of how lucky we all were. The battle could have been so much worse. There have been wars that have last years - centuries, even. We lost too many lives, but, really, we were very lucky.” Lucky to have the help of the Jedi. Two Jedi, one still a student. One young child who should never have been anywhere near a battle. “How are you... after that nightmare. I hope your family is well.”

The young man pulled his cleaning cart into the office and started to sweep the tiled floor. He was quiet for such a long time. “One of my brothers is missing, but we think he’s well. He’s the smartest guy I know and he can charm fish into walking, so if anyone will survive to return, he will. Thank you for your concern, Your Majesty. You’re right about the battle. It won’t take long to do repairs, unless I miss my guess. And,” he gave her a beaming smile, so bright and pure that she smiled in return. “Now we’ve got our own Senator Palpatine as the next Chancellor! That’ll be good things for Naboo, I’d bet.”

Senator Palpatine as Chancellor.

Padme let that thought drift through her mind. Yes. He was a good man. It was only right that the Republic should have a good man like him to lead it. All the same... it had been sudden. Even when she’d suggested it, she’d been surprised by how quickly he’d been declared the next Chancellor.

“Say,” the young man said, interrupting Padme’s thoughts. “I know you’re real busy and I shouldn’t be bothering you, but you know Senator Palpatine pretty well, don’t you?”

“He helped to train me in politics. I’ve known him since I was a very small child.”

“Then maybe you could tell me about him? What’s he really like?”

“He’s a good man.”

“Well... yes. But anything more? What’s he like as a person? Hobbies? I know it’s not my place to be so nosy, but it’d be nice to know more about the man who’s going to be our Chancellor. Make me a little less nervous about the future, you know.”

“I understand and -” Padme broke off when one of her handmaidens stepped into the room. The handmaiden, dressed in the traditional red robes the handmaidens always wore, gave the custodian a suspicious look before she said to Padme, “The ship is ready. When would you like to leave?”

“Immediately.” Padme looked at the young man and nodded to him. “I hope you’ll excuse me; I have urgent business to attend. It was pleasant speaking with you.”

“Oh, of course. Didn’t mean to hold you up.”

Padme left her office with her handmaiden at her side. “Have you found the last known location of Padawan Kenobi’s ship?”

“Yes. We can be there shortly and wait for the Solstice Storm to end. Are you sure this is wise? The murderer who killed our technician was Mandalorian. Given that, the fact that Padawan Kenobi was attacked so shortly after leaving Naboo, and that they happened to end up near the territory of the Mandalorian Empire suggests that this may have all been by design. It was widely known that the Jedi were helping us and the Mandalorians do not have a great history of friendly relations with the Jedi. They might have seen the broadcast that announced the death of Jedi Master Jinn and seen an opportunity to get their hands on a Jedi Padawan. I don’t want to upset you, but it may already be too late for Padawan Kenobi.”

Padme stiffened her back as she walked. “I understand that, but if there is a chance, we must try to help. I believe the Jedi will be looking for them, so we will go and add our support. I will not give them up for lost without trying. We owe them too much.” She thought to herself, ‘And they are my friends. I won’t abandon them.’

She didn’t spare a second thought for the young Kiffar man cleaning her office.

To Be Continued...

Buir - parent
Yaim be bajur - school
Ad - child
Ade - children
Ori’vod - elder sibling
Riduur - spouse
Mando’ad - Mandalorian
Jetii - Jedi
Verd - warriors

Chapter Text

A/N: Dear readers, there will be no new chapter next week. Please, look for the next chapter the week after next.

Chapter 33: Flirting

Coruscant-
Jedi Temple-
Grandmaster Yoda-

There was very little left for Yoda to deal with. Messages had been sent out to those who were on active duty, serving on missions around the galaxy and people were returning home as quickly as possible. There was a team of the three most respected Masters ready to rescue the missing boys. Master Tholme and Padawan Vos had reached Naboo and were on the hunt for any information that might be used to persuade soon-to-be Chancellor Palpatine that trying to compel the Jedi to remain on Coruscant would be more trouble than it was worth.

All that was left to do was wait.

“Master Yoda?” Depa stood in the doorway that led to the small balcony Yoda sat on. “May I interrupt you?”

He sat on the floor of the balcony, cross-legged, while he meditated. “You are always welcome, Depa. You have news for me?”

Depa went onto the balcony and sat next to Yoda, mimicking his position. “The creches and their Crechmasters are comfortably settled on the Educorp ship and enjoying their unexpected trip very much. The Junior Padawans are concerned, but calm and the Educorp workers have provided interesting lessons to help keep them occupied. The Senior Padawans who went aboard are taking their roles of assistant caretakers very seriously.”

Yoda opened his eyes and looked out over Coruscant. From the balcony he could easily see the Senate building and he knew that Senator Palpatine was in there, readying himself to take command of the Republic. The wind blew steadily, whistling by the great spires of the Temple. “And those from the Infirmary?”

“They have been welcomed aboard the flag ship of the Medicorps. Those who are ill or injured as well as Master Yin.” Master Yin was old, for a human. He’d reached the age of one hundred and fifteen and had great difficulty walking without assistance. He would have had to be carried onto the Medicorps ship. “Everything is settled.”

“Then we wait.”

“Master? Is there nothing else we can do?”

Yoda kept watching the Senate. “The Force is content.” He didn’t understand how. “I feel no agitation, no warning. We wait.” He didn’t like it, but the Force was serene. Senator Palpatine was the immediate risk. There were missing younglings. Qui-Gon was dead. Obi-Wan had been poisoned. How could the Force be telling Yoda that this was the correct path for them?

Depa closed her eyes and was quiet for a time. “Yes. I feel that, too, but I worry for Master Mace. Other than going to the Senate, he hasn’t left the Temple since I was a Padawan when he had to take missions for the sake of my training.”

Yoda patted her knee. “Your Master is the Master of the Order for good reason. He is intelligent and strong, one of the most skilled swordsman in our Order. I’m sure he will be fine.”

The Senate Building-
Senator Palpatine-

He tried to contact Dooku, for the third time. For the third time, Windu had answered the transmission and politely, but firmly, told him that Dooku was unable to speak to him at the moment.

A bitter fire burned in Palpatine’s gut as he watched Windu stare back at him through the transmission, face as cool and unreadable as ever. He watched Palpattine as if he had all the time in the world, not at all concerned with how much time the ridiculous back and forth took. Palpatine kept smiling at that infuriatingly impassive face. “I don’t see how speaking with me could be that much of an imposition. We had been very close and I think he might wish to speak to an outsider at this difficult time, to hear the point of view of someone not in your Order.”

“I have told you before, Senator, Master Dooku is entirely concerned with the matter of his missing grandpadawans and hasn’t the stomach to turn his mind to other matters at the moment. I must offer my humble apologizes, Senator. You will not be able to speak with him.” He bowed his head. “If you will excuse me, this task is taking all of my attention.” And he disconnected.

Palpatine clenched his fists until he felt the pain of his own fingernails digging into his flesh. He let out a hissed breath. Disconnected. Windu had dismissed him as no more than a mere inconvenience? Anger boiled inside him. He turned in his seat to look out at the Jedi Temple and that anger intensified into something that simmered on the surface of his skin.

Windu had to die. He was in the way. It wasn’t something done lightly - Mace Windu was the Master of the Order and a highly respected man. Despite how little the Senate regarded the Jedi Order, they both feared and respected Windu. Palpatine had seen him walk into the Senate and people would stop arguing, stop shouting at one another to stand aside so he could pass. He could cut a wide path through a crowd without even trying. While he spent most of his time in an administrative role, Palpatine knew that Windu was a warrior. All Jedi were and as they chose the Master of the Order from the very best of their number, it stood to reason that Windu would be able to easily hold his own in any fight.

No matter. It wasn’t as if Palpatine planned to fight Windu, after all.

Palpatine made another transmission, this time, activating a feature on his computer that would disguise his face and voice. The press of another button would scramble the origin signal of the transmission so well that only the most skilled of splicers would be able to trace it and he knew the person he was dealing with wasn’t even a remotely competent splicer. He initiated the transmission and waited, impatiently.

After a few moments the transmission signal was received and an image appeared on the screen of Palpatine’s computer. She was a twi’lek and useful in certain situations. She was, he could reluctantly admit, considered attractive in the same way all her people were - slender, graceful, fine features. She held a death stick in one hand and grinned at him.

“Well, if it isn’t my elusive patron. And what do you need this time, my generous friend?”

They were not friends. The only reason he was concerned whether she lived or died was that if she died, it would take a few days to find a suitable replacement tool. “I have a job for you, Nur.”

She grinned. “And that’s why I like you - always right to the point.”

“You will kill Jedi Master Mace Windu, the Master of the Jedi Order.”

Nur’s smile vanished. Her eyes narrowed. “You think I’m stupid or something?”

“Three million credits.”

He saw her nostrils flare at the price. “You must really want him dead.”

Palpatine didn’t bother to hide his smirk. Yes, he did think she was stupid. Greed made her stupid, but it also made her very determined. “And I want it to seem as if he were killed by Mandalorians. You will make a show of it and leave a survivor as a witness. He must be convinced that it was Mandalorians who killed his friend. At this moment, Windu is on a ship near the Mandalorian Empire with another Jedi. This is the Jedi that must survive.” He showed her an image of Dooku and, knowing her hobbies, he said, “You may injure him, if you please, but you will leave him alive. If he is killed you will not be paid. Do you understand?”

“I do, but this will not be an easy or fast job. My people are good, but impersonating Mandalorians? That’s not a good life choice. They look hard on people who like to play dress up with their armor. Even finding the armor to use will be difficult and the armor will be necessary if you want anyone to think this was done by Mandalorians. It could take years to find Mandalorian armor.”

Palpatine waved a hand to dismiss the concern. “It need not be REAL Mandalorian armor. It only needs to be good enough to convince one man. Have fake armor made, then discard it.”

She chewed on her death stick for a few moments. “Send me the coordinates of where the target is.”

He did and then he severed the connection. In the quiet of his new office, he sat back and let his hands rest lightly on the arms of his chair. Windu had to die as he was getting in the way, but his death might serve another purpose. Windu was close to Dooku, that much Palpatine had been able to uncover. Windu’s death so soon after the death of Jinn would make Dooku all the more vulnerable. Palpatine would be able to bring Dooku to his side and Dooku would bring the boys. The protests from the Jedi would be silenced as the younglings would be under the protection of a guardian when Dooku brought them to him. Skywalker was young enough to be molded into exactly what Palpatine wanted him to be. Kenobi might prove more difficult, but his suffering must have him yearning for at least a show of compassion and Jedi were well-known to be emotionally cold. Palpatine had already made an offer of a sympathetic ear and Kenobi had seemed open and trusting on Naboo. If Palpatine had Dooku working with him, the grandmaster that Kenobi had known for years, there would be no reason for Kenobi to distrust anything Palpatine said.

On Naboo, Palpatine had come to the conclusion that a Sith having only one apprentice was an outdated idea and that he would prefer to have two. As he sat thinking of his plans for the Jedi, he changed his mind. Three apprentices, all taught obedience and loyalty to him to prevent the usual betrayal of apprentice against Master, would surely be all the better. Each one of them at a different developmental stage, each one valuable in their own way.

‘Such a shame I couldn’t get Jinn, as well.’ He looked back at the Jedi Temple, well satisfied with how things were working out. ‘He would have been an excellent Sith.’

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Jango-

Shortly before Jaster’s second Challenge Match, Jango was in one of the many training rooms of the Fortress. The training rooms were for exercise or sparing or any other type of physical training one needed. There were some set up simply to spar in and others with a wide variety of weightlifting equipment for strength training. There were rooms with nothing but treadmills to help build speed and stamina. Jango had gone to one of the smaller rooms, one with several large punching bags that hung from the ceiling.

For more than fifteen minutes, he had been beating on a punching bag with his bare hands. He was alone in the room, the only sound being the dull impact of his fist against the sand-filled punching bag.

Kenobi was dying. Jaster had told him shortly after Kenobi had spoken to the Jedi, Plo Koon. Little Ken’ika was dying and hadn’t thought it was important enough to tell anyone.

Jango slammed his fist into the punching bag.

Lubek was happily dead, but there were too many unanswered questions. He’d been the one to bruise Satine’s arms, which Jango was not at all surprised to learn, so that mystery was solved. On the other hand, there were more mysteries. Such as - why did his bank accounts have anonymous deposits of large sums of credits? Why was there so little information about him to be found? What had he done to put a bounty on his head?

‘And I can’t even check up on the hunter who killed him, yet.’ He had seen the bounty hunter’s badge she’d had strung around her wrist like a bracelet. She belonged to a different guild than he did, but it was a legitimate guild. ‘When the Solstice Storm passes and I can send a message to my Guild Leader, he’ll be able to get information about who that hunter was and what Lubek had done to get a bounty put on his head.’

Anakin still had screaming nightmares. It would probably take years before those nightmares stopped haunting him.

Someone had deliberately blown up the Naboo ship Kenobi and Anakin had been on and tried to use the Death Watch attack as cover for what they’d done.

Jango slammed his fist into the punching bag with a satisfying jolt that ran from his hand up to his shoulder.

Kenobi was dying. He’d been dying since the moment they’d found him and not one of them had even noticed. Kenobi could have been Jango’s vod’ika. Jaster wanted him, was ready to speak the adoption oath at any moment, but Kenobi wanted to go back to the Jedi. Still, he could have been Jango’s vod’ika. He was smart and strong willed, the type of ad that Jango would have been proud to have as a sibling. And he was dying and there was nothing they could do about it. He just had to stand around and watch.

Jango struck the punching bag. Then he hit it again, again, again, again... his hand grew numb and he kept hitting. His teeth ground in frustration. Sweat began to pour down his face. Still, he kept hitting.

Kenobi was dying. His little brother was dying!

There was a sudden weight against Jango’s back and he was knocked to the floor. He had the wind knocked out of him for a moment, but when he was sensible, again, he saw that it had been Aranar who had knocked him down. Aranar lay down beside Jango and sniffed at his numb hand.

Breathing hard, Jango just lay there. He put one hand over his eyes and tried to calm himself.

“I can’t do this,” Jango said to Aranar. “I can’t lose him.”

Aranar licked Jango’s numb hand. It was beginning to throb with pain.

“Kenobi, Satine, Anakin, and little Bo-Katan... Arla would have liked them.” He looked up at the ceiling even as he moved his hand to begin petting Aranar. “I’m sure she would have liked them. I wish you’d known her, too. Arla was such a quiet little girl. Always watching the world around her with those big, blue eyes - like she could see things the rest of us couldn’t. Even when buir started teaching her to fight, Arla was so quiet. She took every bump and bruise like an old warrior. But sure as anything, if she saw someone else hurt, she’d be right there, ready to help. She was only five when... when she and our buire...”

Jango closed his eyes. It had been years. He was a full-grown adult, a respected leader who commanded elite verd. ‘Yet here I am,’ Jango thought, wryly. ‘Trying not to cry over people who marched ahead long ago. Marched ahead without me. Now Kenobi is dying... he may march ahead, too.’ Slowly, Jango sat up. He kept a hand on Aranar, comforted by its’ thick, rough fur. “I can’t do this, again.” The grief, pain, and terrible fear in his heart hardened. “Only the Jedi can save him. So, I will bring them here. No matter what stands in my way, I will bring them here.”

Jango sat on the floor of the training room with Aranar sitting patiently at his side as he got his thoughts into order. There was nothing he could do to save Kenobi until the Solstice Storm ended so he may as well offer what support he could and if they saw him in such a terrible state, he would do them absolutely no good. Finally, he stood, at peace with what he had to do. He examined his knuckles, red and sore from overuse, then took a few minutes to stretch out his aching muscles. He ran both hands over his hair, then rubbed his face.

“Right,” he said to Aranar. “I think it’s about time for Jaster’s next Challenge Match, don’t you? Let’s go see if everyone’s ready.”

The Fighting Field-
Obi-Wan-

Jaster’s second Challenge Match was held several hours after Obi-Wan had gotten to speak with Master Koon. Obi-Wan was almost surprised by how comforted he’d been just to be able to see Master Koon and hear his voice. And Master Windu was with him. The reassurance of help being so close was almost euphoric. It didn’t help his continued lethargy or that he was leaning on his cane more and more as time wore on, but it helped his spirit, at least.

On the way to the Fighting Field, they picked Bo-Katan up from the yaim be bajur and she was as energetic as ever. The little girl never seemed to run out of energy.

“She’s eight,” Satine told Obi-Wan, her hand on his arm as they walked together. He was was reasonably sure she was only doing it to be sure he didn’t fall. She was such a good friend. Satine leaned close, pressing against his arm when she told him, “She’s so bouncy all the time, jumping and running and climbing. When Anakin comes out of his shell a little more, I think they’ll be friends.”

As they had for the previous Challenge Match, they all took seats on the bench right at the side of the Fighting Field, giving them the best view when the match began. Anakin, unsurprisingly, staying at Obi-Wan’s side when they sat, but Bo-Katan - bold and daring as any youngling who’d been protected their whole lives - had given Satine a hug before she went to stand in front of Jango.

“Pick me up?” Bo-Katan asked. “I wanna see the best. I’m too short to see good. What if I miss the good parts?”

Jango hadn’t hesitated to lift her up and let her sit on his shoulders, the same way he’d let Anakin sit on his shoulders during the previous match.

The match began much as the first one had. The challenger picked the weapon - clubs - and faced off with Jaster in the middle of the field. After only a few moments, it appeared that something was, in fact, different. Jango abruptly stopped yelling support for Jaster. Myles and Silas, sitting on Jango’s other side, had begun to laugh.

“He’s flirting.” Jango looked horrified. “In the middle of a respectable fight, that fool is flirting with Jaster! This is reprehensible!” He put stood up and shouted, “You have no shame!” His outrage was almost entirely ruined when, only a moment later, his mouth fell open. He stared. Jango slapped himself on the forehead. “And Jaster’s flirting back.” He let out a few rather impolite words, which Bo-Katan eagerly repeated at the top of her lungs.

All around them, Obi-Wan heard laughter begin to sneak out from the audience. He looked closely at the fight. Jaster’s challenger was bleeding heavily enough that it dripped down from under his helmet to drip onto his cuirass. Jaster was thrown to the ground, his knee bashed by his challenger’s club. It didn’t look like flirting to Obi-Wan. But he watched it all carefully. Master Qui-Gon had always said it was important to keep improving oneself by learning new things. So... that was Mandalorian flirting. He was going to have to write down all his observations about Mandalorians for Master Nu so she could add the information to her library.

“What’s flirting?” Anakin asked.

“It’s when someone tries to subtly let another person know that they are romantically interested in them,” Obi-Wan answered.

“Oh. Weird. They should just say it - it’d be faster.”

Silas and Myles, who stood at Jango’s side, laughed and Silas said, “Jaster better watch out - that guy’s gonna get out the pink paint in a minute!”

Jango, still holding Bo-Katan, swung around and slugged Silas so hard that he was knocked clean off his feet. “There are ade here! Mind your mouth!” And to prove his anger wasn’t directed solely at his friend, he turned back to face the Fighting Field and yelled, “Buir! Knock it off!”

Satine calmly stood up and took Bo-Katan from Jango, sitting her little sister on the bench beside her.

The fight, as near as Obi-Wan could tell, went about the same as every fight did. There were kicks and punches, brawling when they started to grapple and roll around on the ground. It was, perhaps, more tame than many fights Obi-Wan had seen, but he couldn’t quite see what Jango was so upset about. He, apparently, was in the minority. All around them people were snickering and laughing.

When Jaster’s opponent swung around and aimed a kick at his head, Jaster caught the foot and spun the opponent clear around, sending him reeling away.

Jango groaned and hid his face in his hands. “I’ll kill Jaster myself.”

“Ah... Jango? I do beg your pardon, but may I ask what the trouble is? Is it bad for them to be flirting now? I confess I don’t know much about Mandalorian courting, but I’m always willing to learn.” He was especially interested as Jango had suggested that Master Windu might be the target of some romantic interest and Obi-Wan thought he should probably be warned what to expect. The idea of Master Windu getting involved in such a thing - Jaster and his challenger were currently grappling, rolling around on the ground and stirring up great clouds of dust - was a bit hard to imagine. “And what does the pink paint Silas mentioned have to do with anything?”

Jango stiffened.

Rubbing his mouth where Jango had just hit him, Silas had gotten back to his feet just in time for Jango to punch him in the mouth a second time. “That’s what you get for corrupting ade!”

“Is it bad?” Anakin asked, moving to sit next to Bo-Katan. “Those people on the ship were painting their faces and you got upset with them.”

Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Bo-Katan looked at Jango, expectantly. Satine was studying the passing clouds with great fascination and a blush on her cheeks. Obi-Wan narrowed his eyes. “Satine? Do you know about pink paint?”

She didn’t look at him when she primly said, “I do and it’s not an appropriate topic with little ears listening.”

Jaster won the fight and, after it was done, he stayed with his opponent for a few minutes. They appeared to be speaking. When he made his way back to where they sat, Jango immediately started berating him.

“What was that? This is supposed to be a serious, solemn occasion and you’re down there... with someone you don’t even know... it was like watching a couple of hormonal youths who can’t keep it in their armor! My own buir!”

Rather than being put down by Jango’s words, Jaster pulled off his helmet to show off a broad grin. He was sweaty and panting for breath, but was clearly very pleased with himself. He slapped Jango on the back. “Ha! Your old man’s still got it, lad!”

Silas threw an arm over Jango’s shoulders. His mouth was bleeding rather worryingly. “Don’t be a prude, just ‘cause Jaster’s got a better social life than you. What happened with that guy, Jaster?”

“Apparently,” Jaster told them. “He’d gotten out on the Fighting Field and decided he’d rather be the consort of the Mand’alor instead of the Mand’alor, so he changed his tactics. You don’t have anything to worry about, ad,” Jaster told Jango. “I didn’t agree to anything with him. It was rather fun, though. I wonder if the next Challenger will be so much fun.”

“Disgraceful,” Jango sniffed. He took Bo-Katan and Anakin by the hands. “Sat’ika. Ken’ika. Come along. This is obviously no place for innocent young minds.” And he marched off. With an apologetic look to Jaster, Obi-Wan followed.

Later, in Jaster’s apartment, Anakin sat on the floor with Satine and Jango, his legs crossed. Obi-Wan sat on the couch with Jaster. Getting down on the floor and then having to stand up seemed like entirely too much trouble for Obi-Wan lately, so while Jango gave his lesson, Obi-Wan read one of the books Doctor Iz had given him and Jaster read the other.

After a solid twenty minutes of silence, Anakin said, “I still don’t get what pink paint has got to do with anything.”

Jaster, who had not been present when Silas had originally mentioned the pink paint, dropped the book he’d been reading. “What?”

Jango showed Satine how to sharpen the edge of the beskad he wore at his side - yet another thing Satine was having to play catch up on. With his eagerness to learn, Anakin sat next to Satine, waiting for his promised turn. Jango told Anakin, “You don’t need to know about that. You’re too young.”

Anakin took the short, slightly curved saber when Jango handed it to him, careful and at ease with something so dangerous. It was good - he’d know to be careful when he started using a training lightsaber. “Pink Paint must be really bad. You got upset at those people on your ship,” he said to Jango. “Those people who fell out of the closet. They were painting their faces with pink paint.”

Jaster gasped. “What?!”

“It happened on the Bral and I told them off,” Jango told Jaster. “I was going to tell you... at some point.”

Anakin asked Obi-Wan, “Is painting your face bad? Padme paints her face and,” he gave Jango a hard look, as if to defend his friend. “I think she’s very pretty.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer at once. “I’m sorry, but I really don’t know. I’ve seen Mandalorians painting their armor, but when I was here last I never saw anyone painting their faces.”

Jaster sniffed. “I should hope not! You said you were only fifteen when you were here.” He drummed his fingers on the armor on his leg. “Well, when Mandalorians love each other very much -”

Jango leapt to his feet. “And that’s my cue. Sat’ika, shall we go? You need to work on your stamina and I think a nice brisk run around the Fortress will be just the thing.” Then he paused. “Unless you need to hear this, too? I heard this lecture when I was thirteen, I don’t need to hear it, again, but if no one ever explained the... er... intimacies,” Jango grimaced, “of pink face paint, then you should stay.”

Satine looked at Kenobi, blushed, then looked away. “A run sounds very nice. I don’t need to hear this lesson. It was one of the first things explained to me when I arrived here.”

So, naturally, Jaster had to say, “Oh, do stay. You two can help explain that parts I might completely accidentally forget to mention.”

Satine and Jango took a look at each other, then bolted out of the room, slamming the door behind them.

Jaster laughed. “I guess they have places to be and things to do. Well, now that I have a captive audience,” he took on the air of a teacher and Obi-Wan was immediately reminded of some of his teachers at the Temple. “Pink paint is...” Jaster commenced with an explanation of pink paint and why it should only ever be used with a spouse. He was good enough to answer each of Obi-Wan’s questions (“No, I don’t know how the tradition got started.” And “No, there are no particular patterns required, that’s left up to the artistic flare of the people involved. It’s all very private.”) And Anakin’s questions (It’s not bad to enjoy face painting, but it’s something for grown-ups, so you don’t need to worry about it.” And “I’m sure your Padme’s face paint is very pretty, but this may be another case of ‘cultural differences.”) And was even kind enough to use drawings and recommended extra research materials (with adult supervision, of course!) to make sure that his explanation completely clear.

It was all terribly interesting. Obi-Wan wasn’t sure why Jango and Satine had fled rather than listen to the lecture. Still, they had said that they’d heard it before, so maybe it would have been too dull for them.

After a while, Jaster appeared satisfied and proclaimed that they knew everything about pink paint that they needed to know. “So, do you both understand?”

Anakin said, “So you only paint the face of people you really like and only if they want to. Right?”

“Right. Very good. Preferably, you would only paint your spouse’s face.”

It really was most interesting, Obi-Wan thought. From an outside point of view, it seemed to him that because it was such a great part of Mandalorian culture to decorate their armor with paint, the idea of painting the skin of a person, especially the face, was considered an extremely intimate act. He wasn’t entirely sure that it made sense to him, but he had learned long ago that it was often best to be polite and accept differences even if you didn’t understand.

“Obi,” Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s robe to get his attention. “Is the paint sort of like your braid?” Anakin touched his own braid which, Obi-Wan noted, needed to be redone. “’Cause you said it’s really bad if anyone touches it.”

“Well, it’s not exactly the same, but I suppose it’s similar in that it’s taboo.” He said to Jaster, “I explained it to Anakin, but if you’re curious - it’s forbidden to touch a Padawan’s braid. Only a Padawan and their Master may touch a Padawan’s braid. It’s very private.”

Jaster said, “Well, now that that’s all sorted out, I think we should get some rest. Tomorrow is the Festival of Stars and you won’t want to miss it.”

At that moment, Jango stepped back into the room. “Sorry to interrupt, buir, but I forgot to ask you something earlier. Have you heard of a planet called Kamino?”

“Doesn’t sound familiar. Why?”

“When I was looking into Lubek’s life I found a note about it on his computer. It looked like he’d written a note reminding himself to go out there for some sort of trade agreement. Sounds like they had been developing what they called ‘a marvel of science’ that would change the way battles were fought and Lubek was interested in it. I thought I might go out there once everything’s settled here and see what they have to offer.”

Jaster nodded, approvingly. “Good idea. Sounds interesting. Never know what you might find.”

To Be Continued...

Buir - parent
Buire - parents (I think. Seems like a look of Mandalorian words are made plural by adding an ‘e’ onto the end.)
Ad - child
Ade - children
Splicer - hacker (I think. I believe I heard that a splicer is the Star Wars Universe’s computer hacker.)
Verd - warrior
beskad - sword

Chapter Text

Chapter 34: Puzzle Pieces

Mandalore-
The Fighting Field-
Pav-

Pav watched the second Challenge Match and was sorely disappointed. Turing a moment of such solemn importance into a game of flirting... perhaps Alor Mereel was not as suitable to be the next Mand’alor as Pav had thought.

The match ended and the crowds in the audience began to thin. Pav watched from his seat on the other side of the arena with the optics of his helmet set to the highest magnification, as Alor Mereel joined several young people who’d been watching the challenge. His audio receptors couldn’t amplify enough to hear what they said, but they seemed to be reasonably friendly with each other and, soon enough, they all left.

After a very short time, Pav was alone in the vast arena. The deserts around were peaceful. He used the peace to focus, to keep his mind on track.

He needed to find Herna.

He needed to find the foundling she claimed as hers.

He needed to investigate the Jetii foundlings Alor Mereel had rescued.

He needed to earn some credits for his people at his forge.

So much to do.

Pav didn’t move as he thought. His hands were still on his knees. He didn’t look around restlessly. Even his feet were still. He didn’t need to waste energy by fidgeting when there was important work to be done. At his sides, his hammer and tongs were heavy and he had received more than a few curious looks as he’d made his way into the arena. The Challenge Match had taken any mild curiosity off him and left him in peaceful solitude.

Herna had to be his next priority. Really, the mysterious foundling should be his next priority, but as he had no idea who the ad was, he couldn’t go about finding them.

‘If the foundling is even real. Herna’s mind seemed a bit... confused.’

Pav thought of how he’d found her during the Death Watch attack. There was something wrong with her, something he had never seen before and couldn’t name.

But she was one of his and until she did something unforgivable, he needed to try to help her.

Pav made his way out of the arena and returned to his ship in the Landing Field. Once on his ship, he sat in the pilot’s seat and activated the communication terminal before he input a well memorized transmission code.

It took time for the transmission to connection, but Pav was a patient man. He sat calm and silent, waiting. When the connection was made, the image of a familiar vod’s helmet appeared on the screen of the communication panel, their helmet painted with dull patterns of gray and green.

“Goran,” the other said. “Is all well?”

“Our vod has attacked me, but I am uncertain why.”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh, yes. It was only a small bomb. I have seen to my own doctoring and I’m confident all is well.”

The other was silent for a moment. “Even a small bomb might be cause for concern.”

“True, but I am more concerned with her behavior.” Pav explained how he had found Herna during the Death Watch attack, sitting on the floor of a half-demolished shop with a blanket cradled in her arms. “She said she has a foundling that she needs to find.”

“Do you believe her?”

“Whether I believe her or not is irrelevant. If there is even a chance that there is a foundling here, waiting for her, then I must try to find them.” He looked out the side view port to see Herna’s ship still sitting just as she’d left it. “Her ship is still in the Landing Field, so I expect she is still on Mandalore. If she returns home alone, don’t trust her immediately. Wouldn’t want any bombs set off in the compound. Make her leave them outside.”

“Yes, Goran. Do you need assistance to help find our missing vod?”

“No. All is well. I am handling things.”

“Yes, Goran. However, you did mention Death Watch had attacked. Is Vizla going to be a problem?” The vod went stiff in the shoulders and leaned forward, as if eager to hear the answer.

“I expect so. Vizla wants the title of Mand’alor so badly he can taste it. We will have to see how things play out, see if Alor Mereel is able to stand against Vizla. Where is my ad?”

“I will send for her.” It took a moment, but he returned with the girl, still clad all in white, her face decently covered by her veil. The vod said, “I will leave you to speak privately.”

When the other vod had left, Pav asked his child. “Are you alone?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Yes.”

She pulled the veil back and let it rest on her hair. A few strands of her short, blonde hair stuck out under the veil. Her eyes, wide and serious, were as bright blue as a lanthum flower. She had grown so much since he’d found her in that field that had turned into a battle ground, her buire dead only a few yards away. “I miss you.”

“And I you. Are you prepared?”

“Yes. I will begin my verd’goten the day after tomorrow.”

He wanted to tell her that she had been right when she’d told him that Herna wasn’t to be trusted. She had known Herna had been lying about something and her intuition had been correct. He might have told her that, but it would involve an explanation of Herna’s attack on him and he didn’t want to distract her so close to her verd’goten. Best she keep her mind on where it should be. So he simply told her, “I will be with you in spirit. Be confidant in yourself - you have trained long and hard for this - you are ready.”

“Thank you, buir. I will keep your words in mind.” She gave that little smile of hers, gentle and earnest. “I won’t shame you. When we see each other next, I will be a warrior and I will fight beside you.”

They said their farewells and Pav knew it was time for him to work.

He left the Landing Field and went into Keldabe.

Keldabe was a sight. The Festival of Stars would be held the following day and it seemed the whole city was preparing for it. The streets, especially the main avenue that bisected the city, was lined with vendors and crafters hoping that the crowds of people expected for the Festival would mean a great pay day for them. There were banners hung from every high point that could be reached and flags strung on lines from lamp post to lamp post along the streets. A large open area with games was being set up for the ade to play in. If he hadn’t had so much else to worry about, he would have found the sight enjoyable.

The Festival of Stars was the biggest Mandalorian holiday. There was nothing spiritual about it, nothing solemn about it at all. It was merely a time for fun and happiness, for good food and songs.

But Pav was not on Mandalore for fun. So he walked though all the preparations for the Festival and didn’t pause his step as he went along. At his sides, attached to the wide leather belt he wore, his long handled hammer and tongs swung with his every step.

No matter how long or hard he looked, he couldn’t find Herna. As her ship was still in the Landing Field and as Pav had booby-trapped the ship, he knew she was either still in Keldabe or she’d found some other way to leave it. In his youth, Pav had, like many Mandalorians, worked as a hunter before he’d heard the call of Beskar and been drawn to serve his people as a Goran and he liked to think that he had been a reasonably competent hunter. Finding a person in one city ordinarily wouldn’t have been much of a challenge, but Herna had also been trained as a hunter and she knew how to keep herself secret.

He was near the Fortress, despairing that he wouldn’t be able to find Herna, when he heard,

“You’re doing great, Sat’ika!”

He turned and saw Duchess Satine Kryze as he had never seen her before. Granted, he had only ever seen her in news broadcasts when she would give speeches to the Empire, when she would be dressed in fashion better suited for Republic royalty, in ornate gowns and jewels. He had never seen her on any broadcast dressed in an undersuit with sweat running down her face and strands of her blonde hair sticking to the sides of her face. She was running. Just outside the Fortress, Duchess Satine Kryze ran with an armored verd at her side.

When they drew close to where Pav was, the verd said to her, “Let’s stop and rest a bit. You need water.”

So they stopped running and took a table at a nearby public rest area. The rest area looked a bit like a small park with tables and seating where anyone could take their ease. Curious, Pav sat quietly at a table near theirs and listened.

Satine Kryze accepted a canteen from her companion and took a deep gulp from it before she said, “We can’t keep stopping like this. I have to get stronger.”

The young man patted her shoulder. “Be easy with yourself. You’re doing fine.” Then he grinned, wickedly. “I’m sure Ken’ika will be very impressed.”

Kryze choked on the mouthful of water she’d just taken and frowned at the young man. “I don’t know what you’re insinuating.”

“Don’t be shy. I’ve been to the Republic. I know how flirting is done there. You think I don’t see you batting those eyelashes at Ken’ika, waiting for him to notice you?”

Kryze sniffed and turned her face away from him. “You’re imagining things. Clearly, your brain is overheating in your helmet.”

“My bucket’s temperature is perfectly well regulated. He's a nice boy. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.”

Kryze stared at the canteen in her hands. “You're right about that. We were together for a year in almost complete isolation and I'm pretty sure he never realized I've been trying to get his attention.”

“He does seem oddly innocent for someone his age. Some of the things he said when we first found him sounded like he was offering... well... things an ad his age shouldn’t be offering. Turns out, he had no idea how some of the things he said sound to other people. I’m amazed that he doesn’t know how to flirt.”

Kryze laughed. “He knows how to flirt perfectly well. You haven’t seen him when he puts his mind to it. You know, I once saw him smile at a hardened pirate - a murderous rampaging psychopath whose very name caused strong verd to tremble - and that pirate melted. I swear Obi-Wan could charm a Hutt with one flash of his dimples. And that was several years ago when we were still very young.”

The young man scowled. “You were both fifteen the last time he was here. I don’t like the implications.”

She shook her head a little. “There are bad people all around the Universe. I think you know that as well as I do, even if you don’t like it. If it makes you feel better, no one ever put an inappropriate hand on him. The point is that I can only imagine he’s gotten more charming, now that he’s grown up. But flirting is work, as far as he’s concerned. I just don’t think it’s ever occurred to him that he can flirt with people for something other than completing a mission. So, of course, when people try to flirt with him, he honestly thinks they’re just being friendly.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Flirting is a tool for him, you see. He told me all about it. Jedi have classes in such things.”

“You’re making that up!”

“Nope. You ask him about his lessons one day. He’s very pleased to talk about the specialized lessons Master Jinn gave him. You know, Obi-Wan is really very intelligent. He’s told me about a lot of his lessons. Half the things he’s learned aren’t even taught in most Republic schools. He speaks several languages and he loves learning about other cultures - why they dress the way they do, what sort of foods they like, their faiths, and customs. He told me once that such things are part of the required curriculum for being a Consular Ambassador, but you can tell he really enjoys it and appreciates learning about people. And he’s so good with them. He’d do anything for a person in need, without any thought to himself. He’s got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known and...”

“Sat’ika?”

“Yes?”

“For a girl who says my head’s overheating, you seem real happy to go on about all his best qualities. Besides, don’t worry too much about him not noticing all the attention you’re giving him - you’re both still ade, after all. Too young for anything serious.”

“Too young? I know I’m not of age by Mandalorian customs, yet, but I’ll have you know there are women younger than me in the Republic who are married with several children.”

The young man wrinkled his nose. “Yes, I know. Gross. Don’t tell Jaster. He’ll have a fit. I might have a fit just thinking about you growing up in that sort of environment. But at least you’re among civilized people, now. Still, nothing wrong with an innocent little crush. Want me to have a word with Ken’ika?”

“Don’t you dare! If he doesn’t notice me then it’s not meant to be and even if it’s not meant to be, I’m very lucky to have his friendship. Let’s change the subject, if you don’t mind. Talking about my feelings is not something I enjoy, even on the best of days. How goes your search for the person who blew up Obi-Wan’s ship?”

It wiped the smile from the young man’s face. He sat back roughly in his seat and crossed his arms, petulantly. “Like hunting for a rubber ball in the center of a supernova - nearly impossible. Whoever did it is very good. I can’t find a shred of a clue other than the remnants of the Series 4 Low Grade bomb. It’s not manufactured in the Empire - it’s Republic made. So I know that whoever did it has been to the Republic, but that’s about all I know and it doesn’t even narrow down the list of suspects much. Honestly, Jaster’s the only person I know whose never been out of the Empire. Everyone goes to the Republic for one reason or another.”

Pav instantly thought of the explosives Herna customarily used. It was well-known among their people that she always had at least a few Series 4 Low Grade bombs on her person.

“And,” the young man went on. “Much as I hate to admit it, it is possible that someone might have heard that the ship belonged to a Jetii and they decided to attack first. Maybe they didn’t know the Jetiise in question were ade... maybe they didn’t care.” He gave an annoyed shrug. “And maybe it really was Death Watch and they were just throwing everything they had at the Landing Field and a stray bomb happened to hit Ken’ika’s ship.”

Pav considered the conversation carefully. Jetii’ade. It was, he thought, most likely that those were the ade his verd had reported that Alor Mereel had rescued. It would make sense as there was little other reason for any Jetii, let alone Jetii’ade to be in the Mandalorian Empire.

The young man asked Kryze, “How goes the other investigation?”

Kryze shrugged. “Strangely smoothly. It seems Trion had the support of many powerful people in Keldabe, but no close friends. His former supporters are not nearly so vocal now that his... what he did has become known and they’re quick to denounce him. I haven’t seen one of my council members in ages, but I’m not sure if they are avoiding me because they feel guilty for supporting Trion or if Jaster scared them away. Your father can be very intimidating when he puts his mind to it.”

“He’s doesn’t have much tolerance for how they treated you. You know they didn’t treat you right, don’t you?”

“This is getting entirely too serious. Tomorrow will be Jaster’s last Challenge Match and that will be worrisome enough. I would like to enjoy today, if you don’t mind. I’d rather not go back to the Fortress until Jaster is finished explaining about pink paint to Obi-Wan and Anakin. My ladies maid, Nole, explained it to me when I first arrived and she caught me putting pink lipstick on. I think I horrified the poor woman when I told her that I planned to go out in public like that. I don’t need another lecture. I’m sure Jaster means well, but to listen to that while sitting with Obi-Wan... no thank you. I should run some more. I’m exhausted after just a few minutes.”

“I think you’re doing pretty well for a beginner.”

She shook her head. “When we on the run from Death Watch, I’d gotten into pretty good condition out of necessity, but staying the Fortress for the past four years has not benefited my physical abilities. Even I know I have a long way to go before I’m fit to be called a real Mandalorian.”

“You ARE a real Mandalorian. I’m just bringing you up to speed so you’ll be better prepared for your classes at the yaim be bajur. You start the day after tomorrow so there isn’t much time.”

She sighed and rubbed her forehead with one hand. “Yes. Which is why I must keep working. Bo-Katan is so excited... I’m sure I’m going to end up embarrassing her.”

The young man stood and scoffed. “You make it sound like you’re going to be the only one there who’s going to be on a beginner level. Jaster spoke to Teacher Frewen and there are six people older than you who’ve only recently been admitted. You have an advantage over them in that you speak Mando’a and, even if you don’t follow them all, you know some of the customs.” He paused for a moment. “Speaking of Mandalorian customs... it’s been a few days. Not to give you any pressure, but have you considered Jaster’s offer?” His eyes went soft. “I’d be real proud to call you my sister.”

The girl turned entirely away from him. “We had agreed not to speak of it for five days, and we’re past that deadline, but he hasn’t mentioned it. I expect he’s forgotten.”

“Forgotten?!” The young man sounded shocked and outraged. “If you think he’s forgotten, then you don’t know him. I’ll talk to him...”

“No!” Kryze stood up abruptly. “There’s no need to pressure him into anything. I won’t be a burden to anyone and...” Her eyes shifted suddenly and she saw Pav. She froze.

At that very instant, the young man surged to his feet and spun around, his hand on the blaster at his side. He shifted minutely until he stood between Pav and Kryze. Though he had taken a very clear protective stance, Kryze stepped to the side, out of that protection. Either she didn’t think she needed it or didn’t realize that her friend was trying to take care of her.

“You.” Kryze stared at Pav, her eyes wide with recognition, which was odd as Pav was confident he’d never seen her before anywhere other than official news broadcasts. They’d certainly never met.

Pav stood. He made no gesture to his own tools. “You know me?”

Swallowing hard, Kryze nodded. Then she shook her head and gave a rather weak smile. “Forgive me. I don’t mean to be so familiar. I have seen you, but we haven’t met. I saw you during the Death Watch attack. In a shop. I was... ah... taking evasive maneuvers and mounting a strategic withdrawal from an unfavorable situation. When I was in the shop I saw a verd. She had a blanket and then you came in. At least... I think it was you. The crest on your curiass is the same,” she gestured to the painted blue crescent moon on his chest plate. “I think it was you, but I apologize if I’ve mistaken you for someone else.”

“No. I was there.” How could he forget finding Herna is such a state? So worryingly fixated on a blanket with a battle ranging around them? “I wasn’t aware of being observed. You hid very well.”

She blushed, but was honest enough not to argue about hiding.

The young man looked between them. Then he saw Pav’s tools. In an instant, he relaxed, all the suspicion was gone from his body language. He bowed his head. “Goran. Forgive me, I didn’t recognize what you are. Satine Kryze, this is a Goran, in Basic, you might call him a blacksmith or an armorer. He is able to shape beskar into armor.” As he spoke the young man gestured to the hammer and tongs hanging from Pav’s belt. “Only Goran use hammer and tongs as weapons. It’s unseemly for others to use them. As armor is a representation of a Mando’ad’s soul, Goran’s are held in high esteem.”

Kryze mimicked the young man by bowing her head to Pav. “I’m pleased to meet you. How are you, sir?” It was a very Republic sort of greeting, but not deliberately offensive. “I haven’t met a Goran before.”

And that, Pav knew, would explain the lack of armor. She looked much younger in person that he’d expected. Suddenly he found it strange that none of the official news releases he’d heard about her, from the very moment of her arrival on Mandalore, had ever once mentioned her age. Her arrival had been years previously. If she had met a Goran, she would have been educated on the importance of armor. Perhaps it was not as Tor Vizla like to tell any who would listen to him. Perhaps she was not willfully attempting to destroy the Mandalorian people. It seemed to Pav that she was merely ignorant and ignorance could be fixed.

So he bowed his head to Kryze. “Then I hope you will find a Goran to serve you well when you have earned the right to swear the Resol’nare. You spoke of a Jetii’ad.”

She blinked. “Well... yes. We were talking about a friend of a mine - Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi. He found himself on this side of the Solstice Storm when it hit, so he’s our guest for a while. I can assure you, he’s no threat to anyone.”

“And his ship was destroyed?” Pav looked at the young man. “You were searching for someone who destroyed the Jetii’ade’s ship.”

“Yes, do you know anything?”

“No.” He didn’t know, though he had a sudden suspicion that he had to investigate. A terrible suspicion. “I will leave you to your training. I will be on Mandalore for only a short time, but perhaps we may see each other again.”

“Yes, of course. It’s been a pleasure to meet you. Oh! I didn’t give our names. Forgive me. I’m Satine. This,” she motioned to the young man at her side. “Is Jango Fett. I hope you enjoy your visit to Mandalore.” Kryze bowed her head and began to walk away with the young man at her side.

Pav stared.

He watched them walk until they got closer to the wall of the Fortress, then began to run, again. Soon, they were out of sight. Still, Pav stood frozen in place and he stared at where they’d been.

Jango Fett.

The young man had been of average height with dark skin and thick black hair. He’d had clever, sharp eyes.

He was Fett.

It required much thought.

But so did the information that there was Jetiise’ade in Keldabe whose ship had been destroyed with the particular type of explosive that Herna was known to carry.

He went back to the Landing Field, going straight to Herna’s ship. He tapped in the security code into the keypad that controlled the ship’s lock without hesitation. Of course he knew the code to unlock the ship - the ship wasn’t hers, after all. It belonged to their community and, as such, every ship had the exact same code so that everyone could use any ship.

Pav searched the ship, top to bottom, on the off chance that Herna had taken to hiding there. He looked in the small cabinets, under the ship’s only bunk, and everywhere else that could even possibly hide a person. Nothing. The ship was empty. Pav went to the cockpit and searched that, too. There was no room to hide a person, but he did find, under the pilot’s seat, the blue blanket that he’d seen Herna cuddling when he’d found her during the Death Watch attack.

He didn’t take the blanket, but left it right where he’d found it.

He looked through the communication terminal’s history log for anything that might be a clue. There was little activity in the previous few weeks, but he did find that one of the most recent things Herna had watched had been a news broadcast. He activated it to see what had caught her interest.

The screen on the communication terminal showed a young human male speaking directly to the video recording device.

“We’re here on Naboo with what is possibly the most important political event of the past decade! Few of you may have heard of the tension on Naboo when the Trade Federation arrived at the planet. What exactly took place is not entirely known, but a fierce battle was fought by the native people of the planet to remove the Trade Federation and...”

Clearly, there had recently been a fearsome battle. Pav considered the damage to the city that could be seen just behind the reporter and the tell-tale signs of blaster scorch marks on a wall the man stood next to.

The reporter kept speaking. “Later today, we’ll be having an interview with Minister Tibor Sen, the Major Secretary of the current Queen, to find out more details of this altercation. In the meantime, you can join Brin Gader at the Senate on Coruscant to hear what the senators think of this situation and what they plan to do. We’ll also have Gia Twiz going to the famed Jedi Temple to request an interview with the Master of the Order, Master Windu, to find out if the rumors of Jedi involvement on Naboo have any truth to them.”

Then the terminal’s screen froze. The reporter was still with his mouth open, frozen in mid-word. Pav sat forward a little. Herna must have paused the video feed at that moment. Then, the image on the screen focused as Herna zoomed in very close on a young man in a brown robe walking across the screen, behind the reporter. The image kept zooming in until only that young man’s face filled the screen.

The transmission ended.

Another quick search though the ship’s computer system showed that Herna had gone to Naboo less than an hour after she’d watched the news broadcast. She had stayed on Naboo only a short time before leaving and returning to Concordia. She had been eager to go with him to Mandalore. The Jetii boy she’d been watching on Naboo was on Mandalore, rescued by Alor Mereel. There was no doubt he was on Mandalore as Pav had seen the boy himself.

After Herna had attacked Pav, he’d woken up and seen the boy with Alor Mereel, inspecting the nearly ruined Landing Field.

And Herna was gone.

The Duchess Kryze and Jango Fett had said it was the Jetiise’ade’s ship that had been destroyed by the same type of explosive that Herna was known to favor.

Pav sat back and closed his eyes. He hoped he was wrong. He hoped that Herna had not done what he suspected she had. But the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together too well.

Even as he thought of her and the young Jetii’ad who’d apparently caught her attention, he couldn’t help but think of unexpected discovery of Jango Fett.

To Be Continued...

Jetii - Jedi
Ad - child
Ade- children
Jetii’ad - Jedi child
Jetiise’ade - Jedi children
Goran - armorer
Mando’ad - Mandalorian
Mando’a - Mandalorian language
Yaim be bajur - school
Verd - warrior
Buir - parent
Buire - parents
Verd’goten - Mandalorian coming of age ceremony
Vod - comrade / brother / friend
Mand’alor - leader of the Mandalorian Empire

Chapter Text

A/N: Dear readers, a couple of people have asked about me putting trigger warnings in my stories. I don’t as I don’t want to spoil the story by telling people what’s going to happen before it happens.

However, I’ll tell you this: Herna and Trion are bad people and, soon, they are going to do bad things that are going to make a lot of people very unhappy. If you don’t like what they’ve done in previous chapters, you are probably really not going to like what they are preparing to do.

Also, I have heard that beskar can block a Jedi from using the Force. Does anyone out there know if that's canon?

Chapter 35: Education

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Anakin-

After Boss Jaster had explained why everyone had worked themselves into knots about pink paint, he’d said they should all rest, so Obi-Wan was reading and Anakin sat on the floor next to Obi-Wan’s feet with a helmet sitting upturned on his lap. When he’d asked if he could have something to take apart, Boss Jaster had given him the helmet. Not Boss Jaster’s helmet, of course, that was, apparently, not done. But he had found an old, unused helmet and given Anakin a little set of tools that Anakin was almost convinced were meant for little kids just learning how to use such things. He would have been insulted except the helmet on his lap was very, very interesting.

“I like it.” He peered into the interior of the helmet where he’d disconnected several wires and three buttons were flashing very rapidly. “I bet I could make one.”

With a supportive nod, Boss Jaster said, “I think you could. We’ll have to talk to your Jetii teachers about how bright you are so you get good classes. I’ll have to get the transmission code for your Temple so I can keep an eye on how you two are faring while I’m doing boring things over here.”

Obi-Wan patted Anakin on the top of the head. “I’m sure Anakin will be sorted out into the correct classes. They take such things very seriously in the Temple.”

Boss Jaster returned to the eating table where he had a good deal of work set out in front of him. Even after fighting so hard earlier that day, he still had work to do. Anakin knew the feeling of always having work to do and never getting a rest, but Boss Jaster must have so much more because, if he understood things right, Boss Jaster was going to be a Diamyo of all the Mandalorians.

In the interests of making himself useful (Anakin knew that the most valuable people - the safest people - were always the most useful) he said, “Hey, Boss? Boss, you should talk to my friend, Padme. She’s a Boss, too. She’s a queen and she’s wicked.”

“Padme,” Obi-Wan told Boss Jaster. “Is the Queen of Naboo. She was extremely kind to us.” He paused. “And to Master Qui-Gon. I wouldn’t hesitate to call her a very good friend.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll have to make her acquaintance after such sterling recommendations. Forgive my ignorance of the outside Universe, but what is Naboo like?”

“It’s got lots of flowers,” Anakin said, remembering the beautifully colored flowers that had seemed to litter all of Naboo when they’d flown over it. Even the battle hadn’t been able to ruin all that color. “And there’s so much water everywhere! They have ponds and rivers and puddles and everything.”

‘War,’ Anakin thought. The thought came completely out of the blue and hit him like a slap to the face. ‘They have war and battle and people dying and I KILLED THEM! Padme had dirt on her face and Master Jinn died and he was gone and everyone cheered ‘cause I killed people.’ Anakin heard the terrible ‘boom’ of an explosion...

... But it was Jango. Jango came in abruptly, the door slammed open, hitting the wall. Anakin blinked, suddenly out of that awful memories. He was pretty sure he was supposed to talk to the psych-medic about funny stuff like thinking he was in a battle that had already happened. And sometimes he forgot his bomb was gone and he had to remind himself by touching the little raised scar on his back. Doctor Kretkin would probably want to know about all that.

Jango and Sissy Satine walked into the room and Jango immediately said, "We need to talk.” Jango didn’t stop walking. He grabbed Boss Jaster’s arm and pulled him into the sleeping room Boss Jaster had been using.

When the door closed behind them, Sissy Satine sat on the couch next to Obi-Wan. She leaned her head back and stared up at the ceiling. She was all sweaty and her hair was a mess. “Obi-Wan?”

“Yes?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. She tilted her head to rest it on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “You have no business getting so tall that I can put my head on your shoulder. When did this growth spurt happen?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t notice it happening. Forgive me if my height offends you, my lady.” He said it as if he were trying not to laugh.

Anakin turned back to the helmet and wondered if Obi-Wan was ever going to realize that Sissy Satine was making a play for him. He’d sort of thought that Boss Jaster’s talk about the pink paint might have given Obi-Wan a clue, but apparently not. He was pretty sure Sissy Satine wanted to make babies with Obi-Wan. So long as she didn’t try to force Obi-Wan to do stuff like that and she made Obi-Wan happy, then Anakin didn’t mind. Personally, he thought it was all gross. He knew all about that stuff, his mom had made sure he knew how dangerous some masters and free-born were. She’d told him when he was very little what some people wanted to do with young slaves and she’d warned him when to hide and who to run from.

As he thought of that, feeling safe and secure at Obi-Wan’s feet, Anakin turned to look back at Obi-Wan and Sissy Satine when Obi-Wan turned his head at just the correct angle that his robe slid to the side and his shirt was pulled a little.

There was a scar on Obi-Wan’s throat. A scar from a slave collar.

Anakin stared. His mouth went dry.

He had seen plenty of such scars before. The older slaves had them... his mom had one. Slave collars had been the preferred method of keeping slaves obedient before bomb implants became popular.

Obi-Wan’s mom had tried to kill him. Pirates and the Sith had tried to kill him. He had been a slave. Just like Anakin, Obi-Wan had been a slave.

Anakin wrapped an arm lightly around his Obi’s leg. His Obi really needed to be taken care of.

The door of Boss Jaster’s sleeping room opened and he strode out with Jango close at his heels. He went to Sissy Satine, then knelt down in front of where she was sitting. He took her hand. “Ad’ika, you and I are going to have a very long chat. I swear - I didn’t forget.”

Sissy Satine frowned at Jango. “You didn’t have to open your big mouth!”

“Yes, I did,” Jango said, crossing his arms. “You weren’t going to do it.”

Taking her hand away from Boss Jaster, Sissy Satine sat up very straight. “I am not a charity case and I don’t need to go begging for... for attention!”

But Boss Jaster’s soft expression didn’t change. He stood up. “No need to feel any pressure. There’s no hurry for anything.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes. “I’m just happy that you’re seriously considering letting me add you to my family. We’ll have to bring little Bo-Katan over for dinner.”

Sissy Satine’s eyes went wide. “Bo?”

“Of course. Can’t separate vod, now can we?”

Anakin felt something warm and bright and hopeful from Satine, but he couldn’t find real words to ask what it was all about. Sissy Satine looked at Obi-Wan, then back at Boss Jaster and slowly nodded. “I’m... I’m sure she’d like to come by for an evening.”

“And now,” Boss Jaster looked at his vambrace. “Is a good time to ask her. I have a surprise for you two.” He looked at Anakin and then back to Sissy Satine. “I made arrangements with Teacher Frewn for the both of you to sit in on a class today.”

School.

“Really?” Anakin felt his heart start to race. School. Learning. Real learning and not just fumbling around and hoping he might get something right. He’d seen schools before. Desks. A teacher. Lots of other people. He’d learn how to write and read and all kinds of other stuff!

“Yes,” Boss Jaster smiled. “I did promise you’d be able to take lessons, but with everything that’s been going on, there just hasn’t been time. The Solstice Storm will be over very shortly and if I don’t let you go to school now, I’m afraid you won’t have time. The Jetii rescue party will arrive soon and they’ll want you to go back to Coruscant. I’m sure you’ll be happy with them, but it would be a shame if you didn’t get to take at least one class at the yaim be bajur before you leave, wouldn’t it?”

Anakin nodded, wordlessly. School. He’d dreamed of being allowed to go to school. Watto might have allowed it because Anakin was so useful, but the cost was too much. It was so, so expensive to go to school. He had once heard some freeborn kids talking and they had to pay lots of credits to go to school on Tatooine.

Sissy Satine didn’t seem nearly so excited. She blinked. “What? Now? Right now?”

“No better time than the present. You’ll get to sit in on a class with Anakin and see how things go.”

“But... but I can’t go like this!”

“Why not?”

“I’m dripping with sweat! I need to get cleaned up and brush my hair and make myself presentable. What kind of first impression will I give like this? I have to change my clothes and....”

“And nothing. You look entirely fine. Off we go!” He cheerfully herded them out of the apartment, then led the way out of the Fortress.

They went in a small group, Boss Jaster leading the way and Jango walking behind them all. Aranar wasn’t to be left out and trotted happily along with them. It weaved in and out among them, as if trying to get close to all of them at once.

When they arrived at the yaim be bajur, they walked in passed the guards at the doors without trouble and went to the large open courtyard in the middle of the building. There were already a lot of people there, most of them wearing the same type of undersuit Obi-Wan and Anakin had been given, but some wearing armor. There were a lot of small groups here and there, talking or fighting. It didn’t look like very serious fighting.

“Right,” Boss Jaster said, leading them all over to one of the long benches in the courtyard. “You lot wait here and I’ll go find Teacher Frewn.” When they all sat, Aranar walked once around the bench they were on before it lay down in front of them. Its’ pup crawled off its’ back where it had been riding and cuddled up against its’ parent to sleep.

The fighting that was going on in the courtyard was interesting, if not as exciting as Boss Jaster’s big fights, but Anakin had a funny, squirmy feeling in his gut as he watched them. Mandalorians killed people. Boss Jaster had let Anakin play with his rifle and Jango said he’d killed lots of people. Anakin really didn’t want to kill people, again.

“Ani,” Obi-Wan leaned over and whispered to Anakin. “You look a bit nervous. We don’t have to stay here. If you’re anxious, I’m sure Jaster won’t mind if we go back to his apartment.”

It made Anakin love Obi-Wan. So kind. So nice. Obi-Wan was always looking out for Anakin, even when he was so sick. And Anakin would take care of Obi-Wan, just like he’d promised on Naboo. He made himself smile at Obi-Wan. “It’s okay. I can handle it. Say, is Jedi school like this?”

“Well, there are less blasters and more meditation, but I’m sure most of the lessons are very similar.”

And Anakin already knew Jedi killed people. Master Jinn did. Obi-Wan did. And if he wanted to go around the galaxy and free all the slaves, then Anakin thought he was going to have to get used to the idea that he was going to kill more people. He felt sick. ‘I can do it,’ he promised himself. ‘I can be strong like Obi.’

Jango, from where he sat beside Obi-Wan, asked, “Do you think you could tell us a little about your education? About what Jetii teach?” He cast a suspicious glance at Sissy Satine. “Someone around here was trying to convince me that Jetii have lessons in flirting.”

“Yes, that’s right.” Obi-Wan nodded.

Jango narrowed his eyes at Obi-Wan. “What?”

“Master Qui-Gon was training me to be a consular ambassador so I took all the general studies such as mathematics, history, and literature and then I took some extra lessons because of my specialized area of focus. Flirting was one of the extra lessons.”

Jango’s eye did a funny twitchy thing. “Flirting as a lesson?!”

“Well... yes. How else would one learn to do it effectively?” Obi-Wan shook his head and sort of chuckled, as if it was a ridiculous idea. “It’s one of the required classes for several different areas of focus, including that of consular ambassador.”

“And what would the other required classes be?”

“Lying. Cheating. Stealing. Manipulation.” He drew himself up a bit proudly. “I will have you know that I passed all my exams with excellent marks. I even earned a certificate of merit for my lying. You also happen to be looking at the best card counter of his class, too!”

Jango shook his head. “There is something very wrong with this. So, the Jetii Order - famed for tranquility, logic, humility, and fierce devotion to their religion - have formal classes to teach ade how to flirt, lie, and cheat?”

Obi-Wan nodded. “And steal. I’m pretty good at stealing, but better at lying. I really should practice stealing more. Oh, but I don’t want you to think I’ve completed my lessons in flirting. I’ve passed the theoretical flirting with flying colors, but I still need to begin the advanced lessons. Of course, it wouldn’t be appropriate for a padawan to undertake the advanced lessons, but Master Qui-Gon was going to start me on them as soon as my braid was cut.”

Jango slumped over and put his hands over his face. A bit mumbled, Jango asked, “Theoretical lessons?”

“Of course. I had to do all the class work so I’d be ready to tackled the advanced lessons. Master Qui-Gon was an excellent teacher. He even took me out of the Temple for real life observations.”

Jango finally looked up. “I have a bad feeling about this, but I have to ask - what kind of real life observations?”

“Lots of different places. The public transport, the local museum, a diner near the Temple. Anywhere we might watch people interact. I had to take notes and write essays after each visit so Master Qui-Gon knew I understood. But I have to say - I’m sorry I never knew about how Mandalorians flirt until I watched Jaster’s Challenge Match today! That was so interesting. I’d like to learn more about combining flirting and fighting. I think it may be useful.”

Jango stifled a groan and Anakin thought that maybe he had a tummy ache. Jango rubbed his forehead. “Right. Okay. Kenobi, what would have been involved in this... ah... advanced flirting class?”

“Well, practice, naturally. Can’t get good at something without practicing, after all. And at the end of the lessons, I would have to pass the final exam, just like any other normal class.”

“And the final exam would involve what, exactly?”

“Master Qui-Gon would have taken me somewhere to see how well I can flirt, of course.”

“Where?”

“The Senate. He said I would pass if I could make six Senators blush. He fully expected I would have no trouble with it. I doubt I’d get top marks in that class, though. My friend, Padawan Vos, is also going to be taking advanced flirting. He’s not studying to be a consular ambassador, but his specialty does require very similar lessons. He really enjoys that sort of thing.” Obi-Wan shrugged, good-naturedly. “He’s got such skill in this arena. I can only hope I’ll be his equal one day, but I have to work so hard trying to keep up with him. I’ve heard some of the Masters talking and they’ve often said that Master Tholme is so lucky to have a Padawan like Padawan Vos because he’s clever and quick and he can succeed in just about anything he puts his mind to.” Obi-Wan shook his head with a fond smile. “I only hope that someday I’ll be admired half so well as he is.”

Jango slapped his knee. “Aranar. Up.” Aranar put its’ pup on its’ back and got up from where it was laying on the ground to sit on the bench next to Jango. It lay down on his lap and then Jango leaned over, hugging it. “I need a Striil hug.”

Sissy Satine patted Jango on the back. “It’ll be alright.”

“You don’t understand. How am I supposed to tell Jaster all this?”

Obi-Wan just looked puzzled. “Tell him what?”

And at that moment, Teacher Frewn and Jaster approached. Teacher Frewn said, “It’s time for lessons, if you two would like to join us.” Just behind Teacher Frewn, Bo-Katan was bouncing on her toes, eagerly. She looked as if she were barely able to contain her excitement.

Sissy Satine gave her a wave and Bo-Katan charged, launching herself at her sister so hard that they both almost fell off the bench. “Teacher says you get to stay for the last lesson of the day and you can watch me shoot! It’s going to be so much fun!”

They were to go over to the far side of the courtyard where a firing range had been set up and a dozen other students of various ages were waiting.

Anakin stood up, but looked at Obi-Wan.

“Go on,” Obi-Wan told him. “I’ll stay here and watch.”

Determined to show Obi-Wan how brave he was, Anakin nodded and walked away from Obi-Wan, following Teacher Frewn.

Bo-Katan came to walk by Anakin’s side. She whispered to him, “Did you hear? Alor Mereel made my ori’vod an offer! He wants to adopt her and me. I’ll have a buir!”

Anakin had learned that buir meant someone’s mom or dad and he was a little confused by that. “I thought you had a dad?” It slipped out before Anakin remembered that Obi-Wan had said Sissy Satine and Bo-Katan’s dad had died.

But she shrugged. “I guess. But he never came to see me. He didn’t see Satine ‘cause she was all the way over on Coruscant, but he could have walked here in about two minutes and he never did. Teacher Frewn said I was brought here when I was two years old. I never saw my buir. Never. He didn’t like me much.” She looked over her shoulder to where Boss Jaster sat with Obi-Wan and Jango. “But Alor Mereel will be different. I’ll show him I can be a good ad for him. I’ll be tough and strong and he’ll want to keep me. He already came to visit about a hundred times already and he’s only been on the planet for a few days! And he’s really nice to my ori’vod. I heard he even let her wear his armor when she was in danger!” But then she looked at Anakin and said, “And he’ll keep you, too.”

“He can’t keep me. I’m going with my Obi.”

“But I heard the grown-ups talking. They said he wants to keep you and your ori’vod.”

Anakin wrapped his arms around himself and felt a familiar, ugly flare of something burning in his gut. “I don’t need a buir. I have a mom. She loves me.”

Bo-Katan knocked her shoulder against Anakin’s. “Okay. Sorry. Don’t be mad.”

They arrived at the shooting range, then.

“This,” Teacher Frewn told them. “Is where we can test your marksmanship. These students have already been practicing for a while so don’t be upset if you don’t match them, just do your best. For now, you’ll stand back and watch.” When all was set, Teacher Frewn, who was clearly in charge of that class had all the students line up in front of a long row of targets set a good distance way. “Ready your aim!” She said loudly, so all could hear her. Then she raised an arm when she lowered it, she commanded, “Fire!”

And there was a huge boom, like an explosion, as every blaster went off at once. At the far end of the field, targets were knocked over as people hit their marks.

“Re-set your aim!”

Another barrage of blaster fire.

And Anakin was afraid. Scared. Blaster fire. Noise. Explosions. Bright flashes and noise and Anakin was in the cockpit of the Naboo ship and the big ship was blowing up because he had fired the shot and people died! Dead! Gone! Gone forever and it was his fault! Noise and people died and Anakin couldn’t breathe, his throat closed up with fear.

Anakin could see the ship exploding, the sound of it echoed in his brain. HIS explosion. The attacking ship above Naboo exploded in light and a roar of noise and he felt the people die. Again. He felt the bright lights of people, of life, and he felt the icy fear and he knew they were in pain for only a brief, fraction of a second before their lights were gone. Extinguished like the flame of a candle. His explosion. He’d done it. He’d killed people and he STILL felt it. It was inside his mind and inside his blood and it wouldn’t go away and he hated it. He hated himself and he’d killed people in the war and all the other pilots were so happy he’d done it and they were happy... everyone was celebrating because Anakin was a killer.

Anakin ran.

He just ran. He didn’t go to Obi-Wan or anywhere in particular, he just ran and ran until he had no idea where he was. He found a door that turned out to be the door of a large closet. He ducked inside that closet, then went to a corner where he crouched down and dug his fingers into his hair. He yanked hard, but all he could think of was the fierce brilliance of the explosion in space, the feeling of extinguished life and his mom... he was never going to see her again. And he liked Boss Jaster - he really did! - but he wasn’t Anakin’s mom and it was bad enough that Anakin had left his mom behind, but if he called someone else his parent then it would be like he didn’t want his mom and he really did. He knew it wasn’t safe on Tatooine, he knew his mom wanted, more than anything, for Anakin to be far, far away from Tatooine where he could be safe, and he knew that she had agreed to let Master Jinn take care of him, but Master Jinn never said Anakin had to call him ‘dad’ or tried to adopt him. Master Jinn had held Anakin after they’d left Tatooine and let him cry when it was so hard, so painful to know he had left his mom behind and he’d wanted to go back. He had. He’d wanted to go back and be a slave if only he could be with his mom.

“She wants you to be safe and healthy,” Master Jinn had said. “She knows how hard life on Tatooine would have been for you so she let you go. She loves you very much and even if a whole galaxy separates you, she will still love you.”

Anakin rocked back and forth, trying to get his mind from stop racing around in circles, but he couldn’t and kept hearing the explosion and he was in the cockpit, his thumb on the firing trigger and he fired... he fired... what a game, what excitement, but he fired and people died and he was a monster!

Something broke. It shattered so loudly that Anakin looked up. A glass had fallen off a shelf and shattered on the floor.

‘Dumb!’ Anakin tightened his grip on his hair and bit his lip until he tasted blood. “Dummy! Stupid! Everyone’s gonna be mad and I gotta be good and why can’t I be good? Obi!’ His thoughts were like screaming in his mind and he hated himself. He hated himself because Boss Jaster had been so nice and Anakin couldn’t do what Boss Jaster wanted him to do and he was breaking stuff when Teacher Frewn was being so nice and letting him go to her school and learn. ‘Obi.” The cry came out as a whine and Anakin bent over until his forehead rested on his knees. His stomach hurt. His head hurt.

He heard a creak as the closet door opened. A voice said, “Little bird lost in a storm.”

Anakin froze at the voice. It was soft and sad.

“Little bird?”

Anakin slowly looked up, peeking out through his fingers. There was a lady and as she looked at him he felt something... something warm and protective and it felt like it wrapped around him. Like someone was wrapping him in a warm blanket. He knew it was the lady.

The lady was small and old, very old. She was old in a way that slaves just didn’t get to be because there was no use for someone so old and frail. She slowly knelt down and sat on the floor next to Anakin. She didn’t have a bit of armor on her, but wore a night dress and slippers. “Hello, little bird.”

Anakin sniffled. “I’m not a bird. Who’re you?”

“Lonely,” the woman said, her voice so sad that Anakin thought she might cry. “So lonely. In the dark. Up and down and in the dark we all fall. Falling. Still falling. Still.”

Anakin wiped his eyes. “I don’t understand, Granny.”

She stared over Anakin’s head, as if he wasn’t there and it seemed to him that she could see something on the empty wall that he couldn’t. Her lips were pressed together, hard. She hugged herself. She then looked at Anakin and, all at once, seemed to go at ease. “Do you need to cry?” She held open her arms and Anakin, who did not like hugging or touching strangers at all, was perfectly comfortable leaning in for a hug.

They sat there like that for a while and Granny began to sing. Anakin couldn’t understand the language she was singing in, but she kept giving off nice feelings of safety and protection and warmth so he sat with her and didn’t want to move. After a while, she stopped singing. “You should be in the creche, little one. Master Iso will be worried and... and...” She stopped and put a hand to the side of her head. “It hurts.”

“What hurts? You got a headache?”

“Inside. It’s inside and it’s dark and I had to break it. I HAD to break it. I’m so lonely.”

The door of the closet opened and it seemed like everyone stood in the doorway. Anakin saw Obi-Wan, Boss Jaster, Jango, and Sissy Satine. Aranar rushed into the closet and sniffed frantically at both Anakin and Granny before it calmed down enough to sit down and lean heavily against Anakin. Everyone stood back and let Teacher Frewn walk in. She wasn’t wearing her helmet and looked as grouchy and stony-faced as she always seemed to. But she came to sit by Anakin and Granny.

“We thought you’d gotten lost. It’s time to go back to your room, Lil.” Teacher Frewn took Granny Lil’s hand like it was something precious and helped her to her feet. “Come and walk with me.”

Granny Lil saw Obi-Wan and she smiled. “Have you been practicing?” She gave Obi-Wan a bow that seemed entirely too formal for a lady wearing a comfy night dress and slippers. “You must practice your katas to know them well.”

“Of course, Master Telno,” Obi-Wan told her, bowing in return. “Thank you for taking care of Anakin. Are you feeling well?”

“The little bird needs a hug. I’m... I’m trying to think. I’ve forgotten something important.”

“I’m sure you’ll remember with a little rest.” Teacher Frewn took Granny Lil gently by the arm and led her out of the closet before Boss Jaster held out a hand for Anakin.

Obediently, Anakin took the hand and let himself be taken out. He looked up at Boss Jaster. “Sorry. I just...” But he wasn’t sure how to explain himself without looking stupid. “It was loud out there.”

“That’s understandable. Maybe it was too loud for right now. I think it’s time to go back to the apartment.”

“I still want to learn to be a Mandalorian,” Anakin said.

“And you can. Sometimes, it just takes longer than you might want it to.”

In the hall, Anakin went to Obi-Wan and was suddenly ashamed of himself because Obi-Wan would never go crying in a closet just ‘cause he was scared of loud noises. He looked at Teacher Frewn. “Sorry I broke the bottle.”

“Accidents happen. It’s nothing to worry about.” Then Teacher Frewn said to Boss Jaster, “Excuse us. Lil needs to rest.” And they walked away.

“What’s wrong with her?” Anakin asked Obi-Wan.

“I’m not sure.” Obi-Wan stared after her. “But I’m sure one of the Masters will be able to help when they get here.”

To Be Continued...

Ad’ika - kid, sweetie, child - seems to be an affectionate term for a child.
Ad - child
Ori’vod - elder sibling
Yaim be bajur - school

Chapter Text

Chapter 36: Talking

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
Obi-Wan -

It seemed to Obi-Wan that all the progress Anakin had seemed to make while being with the Mandalorians - his growing ease and trust with them - had vanished all at once.

“I think, that we should take a quick run over to the infirmary so you can have a chat with you psych-medic, An’ika. What do you say?” Jaster had asked when they walked out of the yaim be bajur, leaving Satine and Jango behind so Satine could continue her visit with her sister. Obi-Wan strongly suspected that Jaster was also trying to spare Anakin anymore of an audience than was strictly necessary.

“Yes, sir.”

Anakin walked with his head slightly bowed and his arms dangling at his sides. There was no life in his voice at all and that worried Obi-Wan. He knew what Anakin had come from, but to see him so withdrawn when Obi-Wan knew him to be so naturally out-going, so personable, simply didn’t seem natural. And Anakin liked Jaster. He had told Obi-Wan that Jaster felt safe.

Jaster didn’t make any move to touch Anakin and Obi-Wan was, not for the first time, thankful to all his predecessors that Jaster had experience with hurting younglings, because Obi-Wan felt entirely lost. He seemed to be feeling that way quite often.

They walked from the yaim be bajur to the Fortress, through the paved roads and tall buildings, and brightly painted Mando’ade, and Anakin never looked up. He was focused on the path in front of him so intently that he didn’t look up even when several Mando’ade soared overhead with their jet packs, machines that Obi-Wan knew fascinated Anakin. Anakin was quiet, so terribly quiet and still.

“If you’d rather go back to the apartment, we can do that, instead,” Jaster offered. “I can ask Doctor Kretkin to come pay us a visit. He won’t mind.”

“As you wish, sir.”

They went to the infirmary.

In the waiting room of the psych-medics, Obi-Wan sat next to Anakin, just as they had several days earlier when they’d first met the doctors who were meant to help them. No miracles had been promised - there was only so much that could be done in the short time that they had on Mandalore - but Anakin needed help, if his running frantically from the courtyard of the yaim be bajur only a short time ago was any indication.

Jaster paced up and down the room, his boots clanking heavily on the floor with every step and his bright red cape moving sharply when he would reach the end of the room, then turn to pace in the other direction.

Anakin was as still as a rock. Even Aranar couldn’t get much of a reaction out of him when it came to sit in front of Anakin and rest its’ head on his lap. Anakin didn’t move to pat Aranar or to take Kal when the pup whined for attention. He stared into space in front of him and Obi-Wan cursed his own helplessness. It was bad enough that he was taking so much of Doctor Gihan and Jaster’s attention because of his illness, but he couldn’t think of a single way to help Anakin.

‘Master would have known what to do,’ Obi-Wan thought, curling his hands into fists so tightly that his fingernails pressed painfully into his palms. He had the strange, faint wish that he could make it hurt just a little more - just to distract him from his apprehension. ‘What do I do? What do I say to him?’

Master Qui-Gon had always known what to say when Obi-Wan was having trouble. He knew exactly how to comfort Obi-Wan when he had nightmares of Melida/Daan so vivid that he feared waking the whole Temple, when one of his friends was assigned a mission to someplace that was far too dangerous for a single Master with a Junior Padawan, when a friend didn’t return from a dangerous mission and the Temple’s doors were closed to outsiders with the public notice that they were celebrating that one of their own had Rejoined the Force. In reality, there was grieving. Padawans and Initiates, friends of the lost Padawan, had needed support and comfort. The lost Padawan’s Master, a person of great respect and wisdom, had returned in such a state that it had frightened Obi-Wan.

“Her heart is broken,” Master Qui-Gon had told Obi-Wan when he’d asked. “Padawan Venka had been with her for several years and her loss was not... easy.”

“But she is a Master!” Obi-Wan had protested with all the wisdom of a thirteen-year-old. “I thought all Masters could control-”

“Our emotions? Sometimes, even we need support. The trick is that we must not sink so deeply into despair that we can’t find our way out and we drown in it.” Master Qui-Gon had put a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “And if such a venerable Master as Master Telno can allow herself time to grieve her Padawan, then so can you.” He gave Obi-Wan’s shoulder a light squeeze. “I know you’re trying to be strong, but I also know that Padawan Venka was your friend. You’re allowed to cry for her.”

Master Qui-Gon had spent nearly a whole week meditating with Obi-Wan, taking walks through the Temple halls that lasted for hours, and simply talking until he was certain that Obi-Wan was at peace with what had happened and that he wouldn’t let it control him.

Master Telno had disappeared eight days after she had returned to the Temple without Padawan Venko and her ship was later discovered crashed on an airless moon. She was declared lost to them and they mourned, again.

The opening of a door startled Obi-Wan out of his memories and he looked up to see Doctor Kretkin walk out of his office and into the waiting room. “Anakin? Let’s go have a chat.”

For a long minute, Anakin just sat there. Then he stood and followed Doctor Kretkin into one of the offices.

A heavy hand landed on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and he looked up to find Jaster looking down at him. “Don’t let it distress you too much. Doctor Kretkin is very good at his job and he’s helped a lot of hurting ade in his time. Do you know why An’ika might have run?”

“I think it was the noise of the blasters. On Naboo, there was a great celebration to commemorate the end of the war and there were fireworks. Anakin didn’t like them at all. I’d thought it was because he’d never seen them, before, but now... maybe it was the noise. He’s so young to have been in a war.”

When Anakin came out from Doctor Kretkin’s office, it seemed that not much had changed. Anakin wouldn’t look at Jaster.

“Anakin has something to say, Alor Mereel.” Doctor Kretkin gave Anakin an encouraging smile. “Go on.”

It took a moment, and he kept shifting his eyes from side-to-side rather than looking at either Jaster or Obi-Wan, but Anakin said, “You gonna ‘dopt me, Boss?”

The question seemed to strike Jaster. He squatted down to look at Anakin, but Anakin looked down, staring at his toes. “We talked about this, An’ika. The only ade who are adopted without their consent are tiny babes in arms who are unable speak or even understand what is going on. You are old enough that I would need your permission to adopt you.”

Anakin slowly, almost shyly flickered his eyes up. “Bo-Katan said everyone says you’re gonna ‘dopt me and my Obi. I’ll do it if you want, but I got a mom and she really loves me and if you ‘dopt me, she’s gonna cry. And you said you wouldn’t... before. Master Jinn took me from mom, but she said it was okay and he promised he wouldn’t try to make me be his kid, he was only gonna take care of me and teach me stuff and protect me. ‘N my Obi takes care of me, now. So I don’t need a new dad. But I’ll do it if you want me to.”

Obi-Wan could guess that Jaster really wanted to reach out and hug Anakin by the way he clenched his fists on his knees, as if to keep them firmly in place and away from Anakin. “Anakin, if you really wanted to be adopted, I would welcome you in my family in a heartbeat. You are very special. But that isn’t really what you want, is it?”

“No.”

“Then there will be no adoption. You have my word of honor on that.”

Anakin still didn’t smile, but he was at least looking up. “I’m sorry I made trouble at the yaim be bajur. It was an accident. I won’t run away, again.”

“You’re not in trouble. I was just a little worried.”

But Anakin stayed glued to Obi-Wan’s side as they made their way back to Jaster apartment.

Later, in Jaster’s apartment, Anakin and Obi-Wan sat in the sleeping pit they’d been using. They were alone and Obi-Wan asked Anakin, “Were you scared of the noise of the blasters? Is that what made you run?”

Anakin began to fiddle with a corner of one of the blankets. “I’m not scared.”

Obi-Wan drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around his legs. “I am.”

Anakin’s eyes went very wide. “You are not!”

“Yes. I am. I’ve been scared since the moment I saw Master... since Master Rejoined the Force. I’m afraid he’d be disappointed with how I’m handling things. I’m afraid I’m not good enough to take care of you. I’m afraid something terrible will happen and I won’t be able to do anything because I’m... sick.” Obi-Wan swallowed down a ball of nerves that nearly choked him. But he HAD to give Anakin the whole truth. “And I’m afraid I’m doing entirely the wrong thing by bringing you to the Temple.”

Anakin shook his head, frantically. “But I’m gonna be a Jedi. Master Jinn said so... you said you’d take care of me. We promised to take care of each other. Are... are you gonna leave me?”

“No! Oh, no, it’s not that all. Anakin there’s something you should understand about living at the Temple. We... we’re not exactly free.”

Every hint of emotion was wiped from Anakin’s face. It was as if he were suddenly replaced by a droid. He turned a little to face Obi-Wan. Tentatively, as if afraid he’d be chastised, Anakin reached out with both hands and lightly touched Obi-Wan’s throat. He touched Obi-Wan’s slave collar scar. “Am I gonna be a slave, again?”

Obi-Wan wanted dearly to tell Anakin a lie, to reassure him that everything would alright, that he would be safe once he reached the Temple. But he was sure, even without the Force to rely on, that Anakin needed the security of the truth more than the comfort of a well-meaning lie.

“No. We’re not slaves in the way you understand it. There are no bomb implants, no collars, no chains. But at the same time, the Jedi Order is beholden to the Senate. We do a lot of work, much of it hard and dangerous, but we don’t get paid for what we do. The Senate is paid and they give us an annual allowance that we must make stretch for the whole year. No one goes hungry, but there are no extras. All the lovely food Jaster has provided? We get nothing like that at the Temple except for the times when the Service Corps come to visit and they bring supplies. But we are bound to follow the orders of the Senate and that has resulted in a great many Jedi being hurt or killed unnecessarily.”

“If you’re not slaves, then why stay?”

“Our Order agreed to this arrangement many hundreds of years ago and, for a long while, it worked. There was peace. Over time, the Senate began to take us for granted. They don’t value us. But if we just leave, there is the danger that the people of the Republic will see us as lying, backstabbing fiends who can’t be trusted. We would be unable to find a planet to live on in the Republic or anyone willing to give us work. If we can’t work for what we need, there is a chance that we might be forced to resort to more unsavory means of providing for ourselves. The last thing any Jedi wants is to be reduced to violence to get what we need. And if some planet did take pity on us and give us a place to live, there would be the danger that the people of other planets would get angry either because they didn’t want anyone to help us or because they might think that having the Jedi on one planet gave that people too much power. It is possible that such hard feelings might escalate to war and that is one thing that no Jedi wants.”

“But,” Anakin paused, clearly thinking. “I saw Master Jinn fighting on Tatooine. And there’s lots of stories about Jedi warriors. Jedi are good at fighting. You can fight - right?”

“Yes. I can, but violence and war... they aren’t good for Jedi. We’re empaths, Ani. No Jedi is good with war. Imagine, going into war with hundred or thousands of people all around you. Each one of those people is feeling a mix of fear, exhilaration, anger, grief, and a Jedi can feel every one of those emotions from all of those thousands of people all at once. And if someone dies... we feel that, too. We must keep shields around our minds to protect ourselves and, even then, it’s immensely difficult to block out the emotions of so many people for such an extended period of time. Only the strongest of Masters are able to do it and it exhausts them. We fight because we must, not because we want to.”

Anakin nodded his head. “I understand.”

“That’s good. You know - you don’t have to be a Jedi. I’m sure your mom would understand if you chose another path. She wants you to be safe and happy and Jaster is very fond of you. You can stay here.”

Anakin looked at his knees. “You’re trying to get rid of me?”

“No! Of course not, my dear. But I think you should have a choice. Master Qui-Gon told me what you wanted to do, but you don’t have to be a Jedi to free slaves. You could do that as a Mandalorian, too. Jaster would look after you and... well... I wasn’t going to tell you because it was meant to be a surprise, but Jaster can free your mother, too.”

Anakin look up, sharply. “What? He can?”

“With the ruins of the ship Padme gave us. I had planned on trading the ship for your mother’s freedom. You did say all that metal was still worth a lot. I’m hoping that Watto will want it.”

“He will.” Anakin nodded furiously. “I’m sure he will and you’ll give up your ship for my mom? Really?”

“Of course. A person is worth much more than a ship. I’m sure Jaster would take the metal to Tatooine to save your mom. And you’d be able to live with her, if I know anything about Mandalorians. You’d be able to still go to the yaim be bajur and you’d have all the good food and nice clothes you’d want. That sort of thing just might not be possible at the Temple. The more I think about it, the more I think you might be better off here, where you can be truly free.”

“Will you stay here? Boss Jaster likes you, too.”

“I’m a Jedi, Ani. It’s who I am - what I am. I can’t be anything else. I must return to the Temple.” He slid his arm around Anakin and held him close. “But, even if the whole galaxy separates us and even if I never get to see you, again, we will always be brothers. Right?”

“Right.” Anakin leaned against Obi-Wan’s side. “But I still want to stay with you.”

Naboo-
Capitol City-
Master Tholme -

Master Tholme, the head of the Jedi Shadows, sat at a small table outside a humble tea-shop in the Capitol City of Naboo. There were a half-a-dozen tables set up outside the shop for customers to sit at and relax. The Naboo palace was in view from where he sat and the other patrons of the tea shop, judging by their clothes and mannerisms, were on the upper-class scale of Naboo society, as were most people in the Capitol city. He discretely tapped the tiny listening device planted in his ear and it amplified the conversations around him. Nothing important, just casual chit-chat. Still, one never knew when information might come in handy. So he listened and waited.

As always, he monitored his link with Quinlan. The link was subtle, like a small patch of warmth at the back of his mind, but since the moment that bond had been forged, it felt RIGHT. It felt vaguely similar to the link he’d once shared with his own Master, though she had died a very long time ago. Quinlan was the first Padawan Tholme had ever taken and, he knew, would likely be the only Padawan he ever trained. For the best, really. He was almost shamefully proud of the Jedi Quinlan was becoming.

Tholme monitored Quinlan through their link, knew that he was alive and well and very frustrated. Still, Tholme stayed at the tea-shop. When the waitress brought his tea and a small plate of cookies, he thanked her with a smile.

“Are you going to help or sit around and sight-see?” Quinlan asked, playfully, when he finally arrived at Tholme’s table. The uniform of the janitorial staff was gone, leaving Quinlan in his usual clothing.

“I don’t see any reason to interfere. You’re doing just fine.”

Quinlan sat and grimaced. “If by ‘fine’ you mean a complete and utter failure, you’re right on the nose.” He slumped forward and deliberately smacked his forehead on the table. “I’m not gonna get to blow anything up at this rate.”

Indulgently, Tholme reached across the table and patted Quinlan on the head. “Don’t sound so defeated. We only just got here. I did give you a two day time limit, didn’t I?”

“And two days of nothing is still nothing.” Quinlan sighed. “I have learned that Queen Amidala is almost universally loved by her people. She reads ancient literature and has a book of really bad jokes hidden in the bottom drawer of her desk. The palace is respectably guarded for a peace-loving society. The service workers in the palace are, for the most part, friendly and talkative. The cook makes a very nice fruit tart. There’s a good view of the river if you go to the top of the highest tower.”

Tholme looked up at the palace to the wildly tall tower, the highest point in the city. The only way Quinlan would have been able to reach it would have been to climb up the outside of the tower.

Quinlan kept talking. “I have learned that the city is rebuilding so fast that you wouldn’t believe it and almost everyone who is able to has volunteered to help in some way. As for the actual mission, the reason we came out here in the first place, I have learned exactly nothing.”

“Is that so?”

“Well, I learned that while Senator Palpatine had split his time between here and Coruscant, he didn’t leave much of an impression here. Everyone knows him or knows of him, but I couldn’t find a single person who would call him a friend. At the same time, I couldn’t find anyone who would say they disliked him. No one I spoke to could say that he had any hobbies or interests outside of his work. No one knew of any family he might have. No one even seemed to know where he came from before he started working in the palace. He was, apparently, so inoffensive to everyone that he was almost invisible. It’s like he was here, but... well... not here.”

Tholme took another sip of his tea. “That’s curious. To live a lifetime, but make no impression? To hold a position of great power and authority, but be so unremarkable?

“We can’t just give up.”

Tholme stood up. He put a few credits on the table to pay for his snack, took the cookies and started walking away. “Were you planning to?”

“No! Of course not.” Quinlan hurried to catch up with Tholme.

“Then there is no reason for such talk.”

For a short time, they walked down the busy street. There were a great many other people out there that day, everyone hurrying along with their business. It was the best place for secret talks, Tholme thought. Surrounded by people on all sides, but not a single person paying attention to anything other than their own business. The general noise of a crowd too pervasive to allow for any remote spying.

“Well, if there is no information here,” Tholme started, thoughtfully. “Maybe...” He purposeful let his words drag off and, just as he’d expected, Quinlan spoke.

Quinlan’s eyes were narrowed as he thought. “I know the answer is here, on Naboo.”

Tholme handed Quinlan a cookie.

“Palpatine has lived here for so long, far longer than he lived on Coruscant, so there is something here we can use. And whatever secret he’s hiding, it must be a big one and I believe he went to a lot of effort to hide it. No one can be so unassuming as to make absolutely no impression on the people around them for their entire life. He must have erased or edited records about himself. I KNOW there is more to Palpatine than we can see.”

They kept walking. There was silence between them that Tholme didn’t chose to interrupt.

Then Quinlan shook his head a little. “There’s no hope, then. I guess I have one way to get the information we need.” He raised up one of his gloved hands and looked at it, sadly. “I know some say that what I can do is a gift of the Force, but it sure doesn’t feel like a gift.”

“Then don’t do it. No one will make you. I certainly won’t make you take off your gloves.”

He gave Tholme a bright smile. “I am a Jedi, Master. I am able to put the welfare of others before my own comfort.”

So very pleased, so proud of his Padawan, Tholme gave Quinlan the last cookie, which Quinlan happily ate.

“Master?”

“Yes?”

“Where did you get the credits to buy snacks like tea and cookies? I know the Temple coffers don’t have enough to spare for such little things.”

“I acquired the credits.”

“You stole them, didn’t you?”

“How could you say such a terrible thing about your poor old Master?”

Quinlan rolled his eyes. “Because you taught me how to pick pocket when I was nine. I feel sort of bad enjoying a treat like this when poor Obi and his kid are stuck over in Mandalorian space. I hope the Mandalorians aren’t being too tough on them.”

Mandalorian Empire-
Jaster’s Apartment-
Obi-Wan-

Obi-Wan shook his head. “Thank you, Jaster, but I’m full. I really couldn’t eat anymore.”

“But good food will only help you recover your strength.” Jaster poured a glass of juice. “How about freshly squeezed citrus juice? Nice and cool on a warm evening. An’ika? Would you like a little dessert? We have some of that fruit you liked so much before.”

Obi-Wan watched as Jaster bustled around the eating table, ensuring that everyone’s plate and cup were kept filled. He had cooked dinner for them that evening, a savory meal of a lightly spiced meat (undoubtedly going easy on the spices for Anakin’s benefit) with roasted vegetables and a thick, creamy sauce to dress all of it.

Obi-Wan had never felt so spoiled in his whole life.

To Be Continued...

Ade- children
Mando’ade - Mandalorians
Yaim be bajur - school

Chapter Text

Chapter 37: Confirmation

Garbage Planet 3 -
Nur-

There was a garbage planet on the Outer Rim. It was called ‘Garbage Planet 3’. It wasn’t even considered worthy of a proper name, but it was the biggest of several planets where waste that wouldn’t decompose into something useful was dumped. The whole planet was nothing but a ruin of garbage. There were no plants, no native animals. The air was still - lifeless. Thanks to a lack of population, the air was clear and all was quiet.

The pirate, Nur Fleka, walked from where she’d landed the smallest ship of her modest fleet to the only building on the entire Garbage Planet 3. It was a factory, a single-story building that was very wide and very long. Nur had been there several times for business and knew that it was the perfect place to get what she needed for her next job.

Once she reached the factory, she went to one of the wide doors and rapped twice. Then, she stood back and waited. There would be a security monitor transmitting her image to the owner, the only living resident of Garbage Planet 3, but that was to be expected.

“How long are we gonna wait?”

Nur didn’t bother to look at her first mate, Vetton, who stood next to her. He was not happy at being planet side. He was tense, almost ready to explode with his apprehension. He’d been born on a starship and had lived most of his life in space. He’d once told her that he didn’t like the weird feeling of unmoving ground under his feet. It felt too... natural. “We will wait until she opens the door. You can go back to the ship, if you’re so impatient.”

“I’m not impatient.” He spat a curse. “I don’t like this. I have a bad feeling about this. All of this. What’s got this client so flipped off that he needs a Jedi dead? And why deliberately leave the Jedi’s companion alive as a witness? And us playing dress up as Mandos?”

“We don’t have to care. All we do is get the job done and collect our pay.”

But Vetton started pacing. His hands strayed to the blasters hanging on holsters at his sides. “And that’s always been good enough, but I can feel it in my bones - this is bad. So much money for one dead Jedi. And I’ve dealt with Mandos; they don’t take kindly to anyone messing with their armor. To pretend to be them and have fake stuff made? We’re making enemies out of a whole Empire that loves to wage war. This is not a good idea.”

“Then you think we should go back and tell the crew?” She narrowed her eyes at him. “We all voted, as is right and proper, and the vote was to take the job. Every hand is eager to get their share of the profits.”

“Then every hand is a fool. What good is profit if you’re dead? And what do we even know about this job? Why are two Jedi hanging around in empty space for days and days? And how many ships do they have?”

That, at least, Nur had an answer for. "They must have two ships. The client wants one dead and one alive, all we have to do is figure out which Jedi is on which ship."

"That sounds an awful look like you're guessing that they're on two ships. I hope you're right, Captain. If they're both on one ship, we'll have to board them to kill the right one and that would mean facing Jedi, which I don't want to do because I'm not ready to be dead, yet."

"Try to have a little optimism, won't you? If they're on one ship... well... we'll improvise." And it wasn't as if she'd had much choice in the matter, anyhow. She'd presented the job to her crew and told them all the risks she could think of (going against Jedi was a nightmarish risk) and they had voted. The crew accepted the job with only a few, like Vetton, voting against.

There was a deep grinding noise that saved Nur from having to answer Vetton’s very sensible question. The door of the factor slowly slid to the side and the grinding noise suggested hundreds of gears in the workings of the door had long since needed restoring, but were not getting the care they needed. It didn’t matter. No matter what the state of her factory, the owner could turn out volume quickly and that was what Nur needed at that moment.

When the door opened a vaguely humanoid sort of droid stood in front of them. “Good afternoon, Captain Nur. You are expected. Please follow me.” It led them through the factory. The place smelled like burning metal and there was terrible dust in the air that, of course, didn’t affect any of the droids working there. It seemed that droids were the only things working in the factory; there wasn’t a sign of a single living creature. They went down two halls before the droid stopped at a door and knocked once before it opened the door. “Go in.”

Nur, followed by Vetton, walked into the room and stopped in front of a woman sitting at a polished black desk that seemed out of place in the grimy, dusty factory. It was too clean, too fine. The woman, a mostly human woman with a few delicate scales decorating her face around her eyes and mouth, smiled when she saw them. “My favorite pirate captain. Welcome. And you, Vetton. Keeping her out of trouble?”

“Not today.” Vetton didn’t glare at Nur and Nur was glad of that little amount of respect. “Good to see you, Demi.”

“And you. Both of you. So,” she leaned back, confident and pleased with what she must have guessed would be a large order as Nur rarely ever went to her for anything small. “What can I do for you at my humble establishment?”

“I need seven suits of Mandalorian armor.” There was no point in making all her people wear armor, as they wouldn’t be seen by the witness. Only the people on Nur’s ship who might be seen needed to wear it.

There was a long pause. Demi sat forward, resting her forearms on her desk. “What?”

“I need seven suits of Mandalorian armor. I know you can do it.”

It was a curious enough purchase to earn a raised eyebrow from Demi. “You want seven suits of Mandalorian armor?”

Nur nodded. “Yes.”

“What for? You won’t be able to sell it. They make their own and their smiths are practically religious leaders - they’re not going to buy from outsiders. And if you’re dealing with Collectors,” she sneered the word. “Who want real armor, they’ll know anything I can make here isn’t real. And Gods help you if any Mandalorian find out you’ve been trying to supply Collectors.”

“Do you want my credits or not?”

Demi shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. That was just fine. It was a ridiculous order and the threat was very real. In all her years of crime, this was the most dangerous thing Nur had set herself to and she wasn’t entirely certain the payout was worth not only earning the ire of every Mandalorian alive by making what amounted to a costume of their sacred armor, but the act of targeting a Jedi. Not only a Jedi, but the Master of the Order himself - Mace Windu.

She’d seen him once. She’d been on Coruscant for some small-time job and she had seen him, walking up the massive stairs that led into the Jedi Temple. There were hardly any words to describe him. He had seemed bigger than life. Tall and dignified. He had been a serious looking man with an almost sour expression and she had known, even in that brief moment, that she didn’t want to cross him. It was a strangely deep knowledge and she suspected that it must be the same feeling a prey animal gets when it spots a predator in the distance. He was dangerous.

‘I must be mad. That’s it.’

But it was three million credits. Three million. How could she turn it down? She’d be able to make her whole crew wealthy and she could retire. All it would take was a little disrespect and a death. She couldn’t dredge up enough morals to refuse the job.

‘I’m not going to go up against him hand-to-hand. It’ll be a space battle. He won’t have a chance to use his lightsaber or any Jedi tricks. It’ll all be fine.’

Finally, Demi said, “Fine. I’ll set the droids to start the armor, but it’s going to cost you two thousand credits.”

“How long will it take?”

“Two hours.”

“Is that all?”

“This factory runs on garbage.” Demi said it proudly. “If there is one thing that this galaxy can produce, it’s garbage. You wouldn’t believe how much metal people just throw away. I take that metal and recycle it into whatever my client needs. Without having to pay for raw materials, my profits are kept very high and my clients don’t have to wait too long because my supply is always well stocked.” She gestured out her office window to the world around them where, even as she spoke, there were droids hauling scrap metal into the factory for processing. “Sit back and relax.” She tapped a few buttons on the computer on her desk, then turned it enough for Nur to see, on the screen, the blurry image of a Mandalorian. “You said the armor doesn’t need to be perfectly authentic? You just need something very basic? Correct?”

“Yes. It’s not as if any real Mandalorians are going to be seeing it.”

Coruscant-
Jedi Temple-
Master Yoda-

Grandmaster Yoda walked the halls of the Temple. It was quiet. Nearly everyone had relocated to the ships of the Service Corps in the anticipation of an evacuation. Ancient tapestries, paintings, and sculptures that had decorated the Temple since long before Yoda had been born were gone. All of it had been removed to the safety of the ships. There were no younglings in the Temple. The Infirmary was empty of patients and staff. The only sound was the steady ‘tap, tap’ of Yoda’s walking stick as he slowly made his way through the Temple.

He had never once, in all his many years, experienced the Temple being so silent, so devoid of life.

At one of the entrances of the Temple Archives, he met Master Jocasta Nu, the head Archivist. She was old, for a human. Her hair, though thick and long, was a very dignified steal grey. She was rather short and very slim, but Yoda knew that any who would dare to think she was harmless would be surprised to learn that she was Dooku’s favorite sparring partner. She held a small, red book and stared in at the empty Archives.

“I feel as if I am losing an old friend,” Master Nu said, without looking at Yoda.

“We must not allow ourselves to be governed by attachment, least of all attachment to a ‘thing’.” Yoda waved a hand at the empty Archives. “It is empty. The knowledge inside is safe and you are not losing any of it.”

She cast him a sharp look. “Thank you for the advice, Grandmaster. So it is not attachment that has you walking these empty halls?”

Yoda didn’t bother to deny it. “Any who claim to be perfect are lying. I have known this Temple for longer than most anyone else. I have always found comfort and safety in these halls. To lose it all because of one Senator... but we will find a new home.”

“And do you know where?”

“How should I make such a decision without the wise input of our Council? I hope to have words not only with the Council, but also the Chiefs of the Service Corps to discuss this very matter. The Chiefs of the Service Corps have seen much of the galaxy, the Explorcorps have seen even beyond the boundaries of the known galaxy. I hope their experience will help to guide us in this decision. And there is hope that none of this will be necessary. Perhaps I am just a paranoid elder who sees danger when there is none. Perhaps Palpatine will not be so bad.”

There was a long silence as Jocasta turned away from her Archives to face Yoda. “You don’t believe that.”

“No.”

They began to walk together.

Jocasta said, “Grandmaster, may I ask how you are doing? I have, of course, been concerned for Dooku, but he has Mace and Plo with him, so I have faith they will see to his wellbeing. I am worried for little Obi-Wan because even when they give him the cure for the Arkon Poisoning, I fear he won’t be ready for what comes next. The wound left by his link with Qui-Gon being so savagely destroyed is still there, even if he can’t feel it. He’s so young to have to deal with that. He must be devastated.”

Yoda nodded. He had watched Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan’s relationship grow from its’ unsteady beginning into a team that was highly respected. It had started out very roughly.

Memory-

In the comfort of Yoda’s apartment, Qui-Gon sat on the floor in front of Yoda’s low chair. Even for a human, Qui-Gon was all arms and legs and he seemed to sprawl where he sat. “I am not taking another Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “I am not ready. I think I will never be ready. After Xanatos... how could I...?”

“The boy is remarkable. You would do well together.”

But Qui-Gon shook his head, stubbornly. “No. Not after Xanatos. I have failed one Padawan I won’t do that to another.”

“You did not fail Feemor.”

At that, Qui-Gon looked away. “Except when I spoke before thinking and made him think that I repudiated him. I am a trained Consular Ambassador - I know better than to speak before thinking. A wrongly chosen word and I nearly hurt him so unforgivably.”

Qui-Gon controlled himself well. He was calm. He did not give any hint that his decision was based on lingering pain or anger from when Xanatos had left them. But his refusal to teach worried Yoda. Little Qui-Gon had always loved teaching. “I had thought you’d made peace with Xanatos’ departure.”

“I did. But I won’t deny my role... my failure.”

Yoda hopped off his chair and moved close enough to Qui-Gon that he could take the man’s face in his small hands. “Grandpadawan, do not punish yourself so brutally for the past. It is done. Gone. Xanatos made his own choices. You could not have tied him to our Order when he wished to leave. As for Feemor, you spoke to him while still hurting and you apologized for your poorly chosen words the moment you realized what you’d said. Feemor is an intelligent, thoughtful Knight. He does not blame you.” Yoda patted Qui-Gon’s face and mentally reached out with comfort/love/support.

Qui-Gon reached back with gratitude/I’malright/love.

“I will send little Obi-Wan to the Agricorps.”

Qui-Gon said, “He wants to be a Knight. He would be a fine Knight.”

“Perhaps. But I will not force him on anyone. That would be cruel to all involved. A Master must be free to choose their Padawan, and the Padawan must be free to accept. No other way will work. And he will do well in the Agricorps.”

Qui-Gon, sorely troubled, asked, “I can’t be certain this is the correct path. The Force is... clouded to me.”

“It is your grief for Xanatos that clouds your mind.”

“And fear.” Qui-Gon said, without hesitation. “I am honest enough with myself to admit that much. I fear I will do nothing but harm any youngling that comes into my care. There is also the matter of his temperament. Little Obi-Wan is not strong. Not yet. He could be, but right now he is angry and impatient. He is weighed down heavily with self-doubt. I am the wrong Master for him, surely. Grandmaster, he needs a better Master than me. I am unfit to be anyone’s Master, let alone a youngling who clearly requires a strong Master to help him.”

Yoda could feel that Qui-Gon was calm. He was thinking clearly. While he may feel grief and fear, they were not controlling his decisions. As any Jedi Master would, he experienced his emotions, then let them go. He was not clinging to them like some sort of terrible lifeline.

“If that is your decision, then it will be respected. Obi-Wan will go to serve in the Agricorps. He will be the third Initiate we have sent to them this year.”

Qui-Gon looked sharply at Yoda. “Three? So many?”

“Yes. As the Senate weakens our Order, year after year, the Service Corps grows stronger with each youngling we send to them. We send enough younglings to grow their ranks, but keep enough so the Senate does not notice any change. Now, you go prepare for your next mission. Bandomeer is not a forgiving planet.”

Shortly after, young Obi-Wan’s fate was made official and he was told that he would go to the Agricorps. Yoda’s heart had hurt for the boy, but no matter how much anyone had told him that he could be happy in the Service Corps, his disappointment at not becoming a Knight weighed heavily on him. The day came for Obi-Wan to leave the Temple and Yoda had thought all was well until he received an urgent message from Obi-Wan’s Crechemaster.

“Obi-Wan’s gone!”

Yoda told her, “Calm yourself. He is meant to be gone.”

“Yes, but he’s meant to be gone to the Agricorps, not to Bandomeer!”

“What?”

“I took him to the landing area to wait for his ship so I could introduce him to the Corpsman who would escort him to the Agricorps Flagship. I told him to wait there; I need to get some paperwork that I’d forgotten. When I got back to the landing area, Obi-Wan was gone and the only ship that’s been here was the transport heading for Bandomeer. He was so upset about leaving, I think he must have seen the first ship that arrived and thought he was supposed to go on that one. He’s twelve - he can’t go to Bandomeer!”

“Calm yourself,” Yoda repeated. He gave her time to calm down, then said, “There are Agricorps corpsmen on Bandomeer. I will contact Master Jinn and have him deliver Initiate Kenobi into the custody of the Agricorps corpsmen who are there and they will see him safely to the Agricorps Flagship.”

Within a week, Qui-Gon returned to the Temple with Obi-Wan trailing behind him.

End Memory-

Yoda almost laughed. Such a troublesome start those two suffered with, but the Force was good to them and had given them a strong relationship. There were trials, as all Master Padawan pairings had to work through, but Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan were truly the most admired team.

“Ah,” Master Nu said, breaking Yoda away from thoughts of his Line. “Here he is.”

There was a man in the hall ahead of them and the sight of him made Yoda smile. For the first time in many days, he felt his heart lighten. The man was tall and solidly built. He was very fair with blond hair and pale blue eyes. He smiled readily upon seeing them.

The man bowed to Master Nu. “Master Nu, I’m here as you requested. How can I be of service?”

“I heard that you were leaving your fleet for a short time. Am I correct in guessing that you are going to Master Dooku?”

“You are.”

“Then you may deliver this to him.” She handed him the small red book she’d been carrying. “You tell him that I said he, along with Masters Koon and Windu, are to read that.”

“I understand.” He took the book and tucked it into one of the deep pockets on the front of his gray tunic. “I presume it’s important?”

Master Nu lifted her chin. “Of course. As Dooku would prefer to chew off his left arm rather than ask for help, I thought it a good idea to volunteer this information I found. You tell them that it isn’t much, but it was all I could find on such short notice with my Archives being in disarray. All of them must read and understand that before they meet any Mandalorians.”

“I will see it done, Master Nu.” The man then knelt down in front of Yoda. “Grandmaster Yoda.”

“Are you well?”

“As well as can be in such times. There’s no need to worry for me. I’ve been through this before.” There was great sadness in his eyes, but he was clam and at peace. “He wouldn’t have wanted for any of us to suffer because of him.”

“That is true,” Yoda patted the man’s cheek. “He was very considerate about other people, just like you.”

At that moment, the soft sound of an alert grabbed their attention. Yoda pulled a comlink from out of a pocket in his robe. “Yes?”

“Master Yoda,” the lively voice of their ever-competent communication specialist, Knight Utta, was shockingly subdued when she said, “It’s time. There’s been a general news broadcast about Palpatine. He’s to be confirmed as Chancellor within the hour.”

It was not a surprise. They’d been monitoring the news broadcasts about Palpatine, waiting for that moment.

Yoda closed his eyes and opened himself to the Force. It washed through him like a warm breeze, clearing away the stirrings of anger at what was being done to his people and fear of the unknown future that lay before them. When he opened his eyes, he nodded.

“You,” Yoda told the blonde man, “Will go at once to Master Dooku and deliver the gift from Master Nu.” Then he looked at Master Nu, “I will feel reassured if you are with our brethren in the care of the Service Corps. Please ask that the rest of the Council join me in the Council Chambers.”

In less than ten minutes, all present Council members had gathered in the Council Chambers. It went unsaid - because it was obvious to them all - that they had been slighted. A representative from the Jedi Order should have been invited to personally witness the confirmation of a new Chancellor. They had always been given such little courtesies as they didn’t have a representative in the Senate, but it seemed they had lost even that consideration.

The transmitter in the Council Chambers was activated with the correct codes and an image of the inside of the Senate building appeared. It was a publicly broadcast transmission, so that all of the Republic could view it. Yoda recorded the transmission as they all silently watched Senator Palpatine become Chancellor Palpatine. The image was of the Senate Chambers and focused on the center of the great room where, at the podium, an official stood with Palpatine.

The ceremony didn’t take long. There was an oath to protect the Republic and the rights of the people that Palpatine delivered as if he had been practicing the words his whole life. The official made a few remarks about this and that while Palpatine, standing beside him at the podium, smiled sweetly. A few of Palpatine’s supporters gave speeches and, in the end, Senator Palpatine was proclaimed Chancellor of the Republic. There was clamorous applause and cheering.

Yoda turned off the view screen and looked around at his fellow council members. The gravity of the situation was clear. Not a single council member was smiling.

Yoda said, “It is done. Chancellor Palpatine has the power he wanted. Now, we will see what he does with it.”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

A/N: Dear readers, I had someone in the comments made a suggestion. I don’t like putting warnings on my fics, but some people seem to like them. It was suggested that I make a note at the start of the chapter that there is a warning at the end of the chapter. That way, anyone who thinks they need it can skip to the end to see what the warning might be about and people who don’t want to read the warning don’t have to. This seems like a reasonable compromise, so I think I’ll give it a try in future chapters. I won’t warn about everything that happens, there are just a couple of things coming up in future chapters that I might put a warning on.

Chapter 38: Just In Case

Mandalore -
Keldabe-
Trion-

Waking up from the Fyndal he'd drugged himself with was extremely unpleasant, and it took Trion a good deal longer than he would have liked before he could see more than vague colors. When he did finally wake enough that he was aware of his surroundings, his whole body hurt. Every joint, muscle, and even his skin hurt. But he’d been aware of those side-effects when he’d hatched the plan, so there was no one to blame but himself. Or Fett. Yes, he would definitely blame Fett for sticking his big nose into Trion’s business.

‘Keeping me from Satine. Separating us. Mereel told him to do it. He must have.’

He thought back to that moment of finding Fett at his door, scowling as if he were some great force to be reckoned with. But Trion was not one to be intimidated by someone so young... so green. He had to have been sent by Mereel, because what other reason would he have had to be at Trion’s door? He’d made accusations, spoke of a crime... as if Trion had done something wrong by visiting Satine. It was as he’d suspected - Mereel wanted to lay claim to Satine.

Trion opened his eyes and looked up at a stone ceiling. He sucked in a deep breath that pained him, for a moment, but he did it again, and again, and the more he filled his lungs with air, the less it hurt. He took time to flex his fingers and toes, then his elbows and knees.

Time ticked by.

The floor was cold under him. It took him time to realize that it wasn’t a normal floor of carefully cut stone laid down to make a perfectly flat surface. The floor... the ground was uneven. Smooth in some places and rough under his left hand. It rose in some places and dipped in others. The air smelled fresh, like the air after one of Mandalore’s rare rainstorms.

A few blinks of his eyes didn’t make the world grow much brighter and he realized that he was somewhere that was dimly lit. He could hear the faint, repetitive sound of moving water.

“Took you long enough to wake up.”

Trion turned his head and saw the verd standing a few yards away with her back against a wall of stone. He slowly sat up and looked around. The place was dark, but light enough to see that they were in an immense cavern, on the stone shore of an immense body of water. The sound of water he’d heard was the gentle lapping of tiny waves against the shore. The water shone, as if there was somehow molten silver in the water and some form of plant life growing on the stone ceiling was bioluminescent and illuminated the whole cavern so well that it was no more difficult to see than it would have been on a cloudy day. The cavern must have been well more than sixty feet high at its’ peak and when Trion looked out at the water, despite the light from the glowing plants, he couldn’t see the other side of the cavern.

“I know this place,” he said, at last. “We are under Keldabe. These are the Living Waters of Mandalore. Why are we here?”

“Here is safe. Where else was I to bring you while you recovered from your own trick?”

“I presume that as I’m still breathing it worked?”

She nodded. “The Fett boy needs to learn to make certain his target is dead, rather than trusting in the word of a stranger. I knew this place was safe and it would be well to rest in such a sacred place.” She went to the water’s edge and knelt down to take a handful of water. She carefully brought that water up and poured it over the top of her helmet.

The elders believed such things of the oceans under the surface of Mandalore. There were stories of mythic beasts that lived in those cold, dark waters and stories of how the water could purify, that it was divine. But it was just water. Fresh, drinkable water and one of the few treasures Mandalore had left after the horrific abuse its’ environment had taken, but it was just water and Trion didn’t believe in any of that mystic nonsense. However, it did appear to appease the verd who’d already proven to be a harsh enemy. He wasn’t afraid of her, but it would be troublesome to have to deal with her in such a mood.

“I helped you escape Fett,” the verd said. “He thinks you’re dead, just as you wanted. Now you’ll help me.”

“Who are you?” Trion asked. “Give me your name?”

She remained silent.

“Then you’ll at least tell me your business.” Trion crossed his arms and set his feet firmly. “I have objectives of my own and I’m certainly not going to let you dance around and upset my plans. I’ve been working far too long to let anyone ruin my efforts.”

The verd turned her head, slowly. The luminescent plants that shone blues and greens in the cave struck the angles and planes of her faceplate in the most terrible way and Trion had to wonder whether or not she knew it had that effect. Like she was in slow-motion, she turned her body towards him and he was very, very aware that she had the advantage as she was armed and armored.

“I want my boy.”

Trion waited, but she said nothing further. “Boy? What boy?”

“The Jetii’ad.”

Just the mere mention of the sly intruder - the wretch who sat too close to Satine, who dared to smile at her and earn a smile in return - made Trion’s blood boil. He spat out a curse. “You can take him and be gone! I’ll be pleased to help you get him.” He turned away from her and studied the water for a time. “We need a plan to achieve the most advantageous outcome.”

“I need to get in the Fortress.”

He snorted. “And what good will that do you? With all the guards around you’ll be captured before you get a hand on the Jetii brat.”

“I am trained in infiltration.”

“Fat lot of good that will do you when he screams for help because he’s being kidnapped.”

That, more than anything else, seemed to snap her calm. She took a quick step forward, as if she would lunge at him and snarled, “There is no ‘kidnapping’! He’s MY boy!”

“You’re delusional.” He faced her squarely. “I don’t care why you want him, but at least be honest with yourself. He has family. He doesn’t need you.”

“He is my foundling! My child!”

“Funny,” Trion said, mockingly. “I’d heard he had family - at the Jetii Temple. And they’re coming for him. It’s the talk of the city - there are Jetii coming to Mandalore. And from what I hear, he speaks so lovingly of his Jetti family, so certain that they’re coming for him. So you go ahead and lie to the whole galaxy about your reasons, but don’t you lie to me. If we’re going to be working together, then we both face the risks and the risks are that you want to stroll into the Fortress to grab a boy who doesn’t want to be grabbed and you think you’ll just quietly sneak him out without anyone being the wiser.” He made a sharp, slashing motion with his hand. “That’s not going to happen! I’m not stupid. I’m not planning to die just so you can force a kid to let you play ‘buir’ with him.”

“You? You’re not stupid? Tell me,” her voice had gone from a growl to a hiss and Trion stepped away when she moved closer, all too aware that she had the distinct advantage in a fight. “How was it that Jango Fett came to hunt you through the city? While you’ve been sleeping off the effects of your own poison, I’ve been listening.” She tapped the side of her helmet near her ear. “It’s all anyone’s talking about. Trion Lubek. You crept into an underage girl’s sleeping room and scared her and a little ad half to death when they woke up and caught you leering at her while she slept. And then you let it be known that you planted explosives at a yaim be bajur, using noncombatants and ade as hostages to keep yourself safe. Fett wasn’t shy about warning all and sundry about you and now anyone who sees you will be out for your blood. I’d call all that pretty stupid.”

“It’s not the same! Satine has only me. I’m the only one who will take care of her and protect her. She’s alone except for me. She needs me! That boy you’re aiming for is nothing. He’s only a Jetii, an outsider. He has family who want him and who are coming for him. Family that he, apparently, loves.”

And then all self-restraint was gone. She lurched at Trion and they fell to the ground in a twisting, savage brawl. They tumbled a few times on the rock ground, both struggling madly to get the upper hand. The verd ended up on top of Trion with her hands wrapped around his throat - like steel bands that grew steadily tighter. “HE is MINE! He has no other family! They are impostures! Fakes! They don’t love him like I do, they can’t have him!”

From out of his hip pocket, Trion yanked out one of his last-ditch weapons. A shocker. It was a short, black cylinder and, when he jabbed it against the verd’s helmet, it let out an electrical pulse that momentarily disrupted all the helmet’s systems. Blinded and deafened, she was weakened for a moment, just long enough for Trion to escape her and get back to his feet.

The verd shook her head a few times and when Trion was sure she could see and hear, again, he said, “What’s the matter? You don’t like it when someone throws reality at your fantasy? If you think you’re going to sneak him out clean and quiet, it’s not going to happen. You could try drugging him or knocking him unconscious, but it still won’t work. Mereel’s people will be on high alert as the Festival of Stars is in only a few hours and his last Challenge Match is set for dusk.”

“You have nothing to be arrogant about. Your actions about that ad have doomed you. There will be nowhere safe for you to hide.”

“Soon, there will be no hiding. Mereel will be dead and the empire will have a real, proper Mand’alor on the throne. And I’m not kidnapping anyone. She wants to be with me.”

“A ‘real Mand’alor’?” She paused. “You’re Death Watch.”

“Very clever. Soon, my people will come here and we’ll remind all Mandalorians what we are meant to be. It’s a shame you don’t have people to come help you. Who are your clan? Oh! I understand. You know they won’t approve. They’d never allow you to do something like this. That’s why you’re here talking to me instead of them.” Trion smirked at her. “How would they react to you stealing an ad? How would they look at you when you drag him, kicking and screaming, to your home as he fights tooth and nail to escape? You can’t take him back to your people. Do you have anywhere to go or will you just keep him in your ship like a pet as you roam the galaxy?”

“And how will the young duchess - famed for her gentle, peaceful nature - look at you when she learns you’re Death Watch? Ade killer. Demagolka?”

“She’ll understand... in time. I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m helping to bring our people back to what they should be. Fighters. Conquerors! But we’re off topic. You trying to snatch the boy from the Fortress won’t work.”

“He won’t give me away.”

Trion turned away from her without comment. He had no doubt at all that the boy would fight against her and make every verd within earshot come running. She was going to get herself killed. No matter. What could be troublesome would be if she let Jango Fett know that Trion was not dead. That would be inconvenient. He’d be much better off if she didn’t go into the Fortress. In fact, he’d be better off if she was dead.

He went to the smooth wall of the cavern and leaned his back against it.

‘I’ll have to kill her. The boy might be useful,’ he had to grudgingly admit to himself. Mand’alor Vizla hated Jetii with a passion, but to get his hands on a young Jetii, young enough to be trained and made into a useful tool... that might be worth consideration.

“You don’t stand a chance if you go to the Fortress,” Trion said, at last. “I know it well. It was guarded before Mereel arrived and he brought all of his people. The True Mandalorians aren’t going to be looking the other way when that Jetii’ad starts yelling for help.” His fingers itched for a weapon, any weapon. She needed to die and the sooner the better, as far as he was concerned. The small stunner he had was good enough for a distraction, but whoever had crafted her armor had done far too good of a job, the electrical current from the shocker wouldn’t get through the armor enough to do her any real damage. “No. You’ll need another plan to get him. He doesn’t stay exclusively in the Fortress, after all. He’s already been to the yaim be bajur and he left the Fortress during the last attack.”

“He is in the Fortress NOW. I want him NOW!”

“And if you go there you’ll be found out because they’ll know you don’t belong and someone will see you trying to leave with the boy. They will fight you for him and are you willing to let him get killed in a shootout?”

He could practically feel her fury as she stood there, watching him. “Then you’re backing out on our agreement?”

“Hardly my fault you had a poorly thought-out plan. If you really want to risk getting the young Jetii killed, then I’ll show you how to get in without being seen.” He wouldn’t show her - there was far too much risk to himself. He’d have to find another argument to dissuade her if she called his bluff.

She turned and strode away, her heavy feet thudding on the stone floor and making an echo of her footsteps reflect off the cavern’s walls.

He watched as she turned a corner towards where he knew the exit of the cavern was. It would lead upward, to the surface, and there she would leave the cavern by way of the public entrance. The Living Waters of Mandalore were not, after all, a secret and no one was ever prevented from going to them. He listened when she was out of sight and listened until he could no longer hear her footsteps. Then he went to the entrance himself and saw that she really had gone. Only then did he turn and walk in the opposite direction that the verd had gone in.

While the path to and from the public entrance was well known, Trion took a far less known path. Instead of leaving the cavern he went deeper in. On the far side of the stone beach, he found a trail. It was narrow and was only marked as a trail by the fact that it was slightly more worn than the rest of the rock floor. If one didn’t know what they were looking for, it would have been so very simple to walk right passed it and never see it.

As he walked, he was constantly going very lightly upward. The light from the glowing plants on the ceiling never dimmed. Eventually, the walls grew closer and it was as if he were walking through a stone hall. After almost twenty minutes of walking, the path abruptly ended against what looked like, at first glance, a wall. But it wasn’t a wall. There was a minuscule gap in the wall in the shape of a rectangle. There were hinges and gears and a heavy metal handle. There was even, in the center of the door, a small screen with a single button on the bottom of it. He pressed the button and the screen lit up with an image of the other side of the door.

The image of the hall on the other side of the stone door clearly showed one of the halls in the Fortress. There was a guard and one of the maids just on the other side of the door, talking. He could have killed them. Neither one was in full armor and they wouldn’t be expecting an attack. But to leave bodies laying around was nothing short of careless.

He settled in to wait, content to bide his time. He’d been waiting for her for years, after all. A few more hours would make no difference.

The Fortress-
Obi-Wan-

It was very early when Obi-Wan woke. Anakin and the Striile, who tended to go from Anakin’s side to Satine’s without rhyme or reason, were sound asleep in the sleeping pit. As he had nearly every moment since he’d woken up in the infirmary of the Bral, Obi-Wan reached desperately for the Force. Of course, there was nothing but for the abysmal emptiness inside him where the Force should have been.

He got out of the sleeping pit as quietly as he could, so as to not wake Anakin. When he was able to sit on the floor of the room, he picked up the walking stick Doctor Gihan had so kindly given him and used it to struggle to his feet. It wasn’t a good sign. Soon, he knew, he wouldn’t even be able to get to his feet from such a position.

In the main room of Jaster’s apartment, all was dark and quiet. The doors to the other sleeping rooms were closed and there was no sign that anyone else was awake. It was perfect.

He should mediate. In normal circumstances, meditation would help to settle his mind, to calm him. But it was no ordinary situation. Ever since Naboo, he hadn’t been able to mediate properly. He had no idea how people without a sensitivity to the Force managed to mediate because to him nothing felt right. So instead of meditating, he made his way to the eating table. Just walking halfway across the apartment made him feel weak and clumsy and he wanted nothing more than to go right back to sleep.

On the eating table he found one of the small datapads Teacher Frewn had given Anakin to use for studying. It seemed that even though she knew they were due to leave as soon as the Solstice Storm was over, she had decided to behave as if Anakin was staying permanently as the data pad was full of programs for various stages of learning. Obi-Wan found some empty space in the data pad and set it up to take an audio recording.

He pressed the button to record, then began to speak.

“Hello, there. This is Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi and I am on Mandalore with Anakin Skywalker as the guests of Alor Jaster Mereel. I expect that by the time anyone reads this, I will be dead.”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught. Then he closed his eyes and calmed himself.

“I am recording this to assure everyone at the Temple that Anakin and I have been very well looked after. The rumors we’ve often heard about Mandalorians are, as I’ve been telling all of you for years, not true. Alor Mereel has been very kind and generous. We have been well fed, given medical care, and been shown such civility that I’m sure all of you would agree that Mandalorians are an excellent people. In fact, I think that more friendly relations with the Mandalorian Empire should be strongly considered. We have both been encouraged to accept therapy for various reasons. They even showed great consideration to Master Qui-Gon’s body by moving it from our ship to their infirmary which ended up saving it when the ship was destroyed.”

His mind flashed to the memory of finding the remains of the bomb and how he’d broken down so easily, thinking he was back in the war. He’d thought he was over such reactions that had once plagued him for months after escaping Melida/Daan. Without the bomb to jerk him into those terrible memories, he was able to push the thoughts aside.

“I also need to tell you all that I’ve found Master Telno. She’s here. Ask Jaster Mereel and he’ll take you to her. She was rescued by Mandalorians and now lives at the yaim be bajur. Physically, it seems she was taken very well taken care of, but her mental state is a concern. There is also the matter of the ship that was given to me by Queen Amidala.” He told about the ship Padme Amidala had given them and emphasized that it had been given freely to him so the Senate couldn’t try to take it. He told them about his plans to trade the remains of the ship for the freedom of Anakin’s mother and how valuable Anakin said the ship’s parts were. Obi-Wan said everything he could think of, everything about their stay on Mandalore that he thought might be important to the Jedi.

“I would like to beg your indulgence and allow me some personal messages. To whoever is reading this, as I expect the Council will have been given this message in light of events, please pass my regards to my friends. Please tell everyone at the Temple that I’ve been thinking of them and I miss them all. Please tell my Line - Grandmaster Dooku, Feemor, my Master’s brother, Rael, and Great-Grandmaster Yoda - I love you all. I wish I had been able to see you, one more time. Please don’t be sad because of me. I will go to Master Qui-Gon and Master Tahl and be with them in the Force. Again, I love you all. Please be good to Anakin.”

Obi-Wan stopped recording. He saved it and hid it on the data pad where he believed Anakin wouldn’t find it, then set the data pad back on the table where he’d found it. It was only a precaution. Just in case. It was not a farewell note. Because Masters Windu and Koon were coming for him. They would be at Mandalore very soon and Obi-Wan was going to live to see them. He was definitely going to live... even if he could feel every part of himself slowing down.

Obi-Wan got back to his feet and went to Jaster’s couch. He didn’t even want to think of climbing in or out of the sleeping pit, again. He had just sat down when he found not Aranar, but the little pup, Kal, by his feet. It looked up at him with its’ tongue hanging out of its mouth. It ‘yipped’ at him, a merry little sound.

“Oh, someone wants attention?” He picked up the pup, so small that he could hold it in one hand. It’s six legs squirmed around with excitement when he held it close to him and started to pet it. It cuddled close, obviously overjoyed to have Obi-Wan’s notice, and gave his face a lick. It made Obi-Wan laugh. He lay down and let Kal curl up on his chest. “Time to rest. In a few hours the festival will begin and then one more Challenge Match for Jaster. Then, finally, the Solstice Storm will end and the Masters will come and take care of everything.” He felt much reassured by that thought. After all, what could possibly go wrong in just a few short hours?

To Be Continued...

ad - child
ade - children
yaim be bajur - school
Jetii - Jedi
Jetii'ad - Jedi child
Demagolka - Monster
buir - parent

Chapter Text

A/N: Dear readers, there will be no new chapter next week. Please expect the next chapter the week after next.

Chapter 39: This Was the Day

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
The Fortress-
Anakin-

Obi-Wan didn’t want to wake up and that seemed weird to Anakin because Obi-Wan had told Anakin that Jedi don’t have time to sleep the day away - there was too much work to be done. So Anakin sat on the floor next to the couch where Obi-Wan was still sleeping and waited for him.

Jango was cooking and it smelled really nice. Anakin hadn’t been hungry in ages and he wished his mom knew how good he had it. He wished she could share it.

“I hope you’re hungry, An’ika,” Jango said, stirring something in a pan over the little stove in the kitchen. “I’m making enough to feed a Mythosaur. We’re all gonna fill out gullets so we’ll have energy for the day. The Festival of Stars is always busy, so you’ll want your energy.”

Anakin bit his lip and looked over his shoulder at Obi-Wan. “Maybe we shouldn’t go.”

“What?”

“Maybe... maybe Obi should sleep. He’s really tired.”

“Or,” Jango turned off the stove and brought the skillet of whatever it was that he’d made to the eating table. “He can go outside and get some fresh air and sunshine which will help him feel a bit better. Besides, he wants to go and Jaster arranged to have Doctor Gihan with us, just in case. We’ll be taking frequent rests and if Ken’ika needs to, we’ll just come back early.” He leaned over where Anakin sat and gave Obi-Wan’s shoulder a little shake. “Come on, vod’ika. Rise and shine.” When Obi-Wan didn’t move, he shook Obi-Wan’s shoulder, again. “Time to wake up, Ken’ika. You don’t want to miss Sat’ika in her festival clothes, do you?”

Obi-Wan blinked and yawned. For a moment, he just lay there and seemed happy to stay under the blanket. Then he slowly sat up.

Anakin kept quiet. He really thought Obi-Wan should sleep if he was so tired, but he didn’t want to make anyone angry by arguing.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan said when he finally put his feet on the floor. He smiled for Anakin, then at Jango. “Something smells lovely.”

“I should hope so,” Boss Jaster walked out of his sleeping room, already wearing most of his armor. “Jango’s been working on that recipe for days. Where’s Sat’ika?”

“In her apartment.”

Boss Jaster frowned at Jango. “Why?”

“Because, buir, we know who hurt her and he’s no longer a problem. So there’s no reason that she can’t go where she pleases in the Fortress. She’ll be here soon. Ken’ika, why don’t you go get washed up. We’ll want an early start. Buir,” Jango rolled his eyes at Boss Jaster. “Aren’t you even going to polish your armor?”

Jaster looked down at himself. “I’m clean.”

“But you’re not shiny. Come on - make an effort. People want to see their future Mand’alor looking spiffy. You’re supposed to be inspiring, you know.”

“Inspiring? This is a festival - you’re lucky I’m going. If I didn’t have a pack of ad’ika, I’d be spending the day in the library.” But Jaster said it with a smile, so Anakin didn’t think he was too upset about going to a festival. “But, Jango’s right about one thing - Ken’ika, you should get ready to start the day. We’ll hold breakfast for you.”

Anakin jumped to his feet. “Yeah, time to go get clean.” He grabbed Obi-Wan’s hands. “Come on! Come on! I’ll go with you.”

“Into the fresher?” Obi-Wan asked, even as he let Anakin pull him to his feet and took the cane that Boss Jaster gave him. “Dear one, I’m perfectly capable of -”

“I wanna go with you.” Anakin dashed to the door of their sleeping room as that was where the fresher was that he knew Obi-Wan would use. “Come on.”

With a sigh, Obi-Wan said, “Ani -”

“What if you fall?!” Anakin put his fists on his hips and tried very hard to look serious. “You’re wobbly!”

Obi-Wan’s shoulders slumped. “Alright, then. You can come with me if you’ll let me wash your hair.” He grinned. “This is a very public event and we are representing the Jedi Order. We should make a good impression.”

Wasting water on something like making hair clean made Anakin scowled, but he nodded. “Okay, okay, but let’s go.”

Once in the fresher, Obi-Wan sat on the edge of the bathing tub and looked Anakin square in the eyes. “Now, what was all that about? You and I both know that you hate the idea of having your hair washed with water, so what’s going on?”

“What’s a festival?”

Obi-Wan’s eyes went wide. “That’s what’s got you so upset?”

“I can’t ask out there,” Anakin pointed back to the living area. “Boss Jaster and Jango will think I’m stupid!”

“They will not. They’ll think you’ve never been to a festival before. And festivals can be lots of fun. But they can also be loud and noisy with lots of people. I hope you’ll like it, but it’s okay if you don’t.”

“Jango said there will be food and music and games and things. Obi, I don’t know how to ‘festival’!”

Obi-Wan stood up and took a washcloth from the little shelf next to the sink. He soaked it with water in the sink, then wrung it out. He crooked a finger at Anakin who obediently went closer. Anakin stood at Obi-Wan’s knees and struggled to be good and stand still while Obi-Wan gently ran the washcloth over Anakin’s hair. It was better than having his whole head getting wet, even if it felt so strange to have tiny drops of water running down the sides of his face and down the back of his neck. “Take a deep breath and relax. I’ve been to a few festivals. They aren’t always the same, but food, music, and games are very usual. When we get to Coruscant, you’ll get to see how Jedi celebrate things, but I’m sure Mandalorian celebrations are just as fun, too.”

Anakin reached up a hand and touched his wet hair. It felt so strange. “So what do we have to do?”

Obi-Wan put the wet cloth in the sink and took another cloth and started to rub Anakin’s hair dry. “Have fun. We’ll stay with our hosts and enjoy the day.”

“I don’t know any Mandalorian games.”

“Then this will be a good time to learn.” When he was satisfied with Anakin’s hair, Obi-Wan started to untie his own braid, then re-tie it. “There is something we should talk about. Credits. There are a lot of things at festivals that cost credits and we haven’t got any. I don’t want to disappoint you, but we don’t need credits to enjoy ourselves. We can surely enjoy the sights we see. Right?”

“Right!” After all, Anakin didn’t need credits to have fun. He’d never had any credits in his whole life, so he didn’t think it was so terrible to have none. He’d be able to see all the people and smell the food and he’d see things that he bet no one on Tatooine had ever seen. “Okay. So festivals are noisy and busy and have lots of stuff to look at. Got it.”

“Good. Now, if you don’t mind, I need to get cleaned up and put some clean clothes on. So, may I have a little privacy?”

“Sure.” Anakin headed for the door and, as he was walking through it, he said, “Jango said he had a broken assassin droid he'd let me play with. I bet I can fix it.” And he closed the door behind him.

Obi-Wan -

With a deep sigh, Obi-Wan started to his feet. “That’s nice. Be polite and... droid? Assassin droid? Anakin! Wait!” He started for the door, then stopped and shook his head a little and calmed himself. He knew that neither Jaster nor Jango would let anything happen to Anakin. At that moment, they were far better protection than Obi-Wan was. So he took his time to clean up and put a freshly cleaned uniform on. He had considered wearing the undersuit to better blend in, but he remembered what he’d said in the recording he’d made just in case he didn’t survive the Arkon Poisoning (which he definitely WAS going to survive) about having better relations between the Jedi and the Mandalorians. And he had just told Anakin that they were representing the Jedi Order to the Mandalorians. If he was going to show them what Jedi were like, then best that they knew he was Jedi.

Obi-Wan put on his white uniform. As always, he took the time to make sure everything was on correctly, every tie knotted in just the right way, his tabard was hanging straight, and his boots laced up neatly. He took a sentimental moment to admire his braid and each bead in the braid that marked milestones in his training. It was hot that day, as most days were. Mandalore wasn’t as hot as Tatooine, but it was a great deal warmer than Coruscant. So Obi-Wan decided not to wear his brown robe and rolled the sleeves of his tunic up to his elbows, then went out to see the others.

Jaster took one look at him and turned red. “Where do you think you’re going like that?!”

Obi-Wan froze mid-step. “What?”

“You fix your outfit right now, verd’ika!”

Obi-Wan looked down at himself. Everything looked correct. “I don’t understand.”

Jango was laughing.

Satine giggled and said, “Obi-Wan, all the time we were together on Mandalore, did you ever see a single Mandalorian showing more skin than their face and hands?”

Obi-Wan thought back to those days. They had mostly stayed alone in the deserts, keeping away from other people, but there had been times when they’d had to go into towns for supplies and during those times they’d always dressed as Mandalorians to better blend in, which meant full armor. He thought of the people he’d seen in those towns. Then he though of all the people he’d seen since he’d woken up on the Bral. Mandalorians dressed in an undersuit that covered them to the neck, wrists, and ankles.

Obi-Wan cringed and hastily pulled his sleeves down to his wrists. “I do beg your pardon,” he quickly said. “I didn’t mean any offense. It’s just warm and I wasn’t thinking. I can’t believe I didn’t notice during all my time on Mandalore! Master Qui-Gon would have given me such a lecture!”

Satine nodded. “Mandalorians are very modest by Republic standards. They’re virtually prudish by Jedi standards.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Obi-Wan asked.

“It means that no one will ever accuse you of being body shy. You know, when I first got here, even before you and Master Jinn arrived, it was so hot one day that I wanted to wear my sun dress. It only came down to here,” she pointed at her knees and ignored Jaster’s outraged spluttering. “And it had no sleeves. My poor maid - first she had to deal with that and then she had to explain why I shouldn’t wear pink lipstick. I need to find out how much she gets paid and give her a raise. She clearly deserves it.”

Jango, meanwhile, was ladling out dishes of some sort of stew that he’d made for breakfast and putting them at each seat at the eating table. He told Jaster, “Don’t get yourself worked up. Honestly, I’ve got to get you out of the Empire for a while. Different cultures, remember? He didn’t mean to upset you and there are a lot less modest people than the Jetiise. At least they wear clothes in public.”

Jaster shook his head, sadly. “Ken’ika, please try to keep your clothes on. I don’t mean any insult to your people, but I’m sure it will raise a few eyebrows if you attend the festival with so much skin showing.”

“No need to worry.” Obi-Wan went back into the sleeping room and put his robe on. At least the robe was made in such a way that it could regulate his temperature and keep him cool enough that he wouldn’t overheat. He couldn’t possibly think of embarrassing his hosts by appearing in public in what they deemed a shameful state. Before he left the sleeping room, he brushed his hands over his robes to straighten them and felt ashamed. It would have been an inexcusable insult to be so ignorant of such a blatant social custom of his host. He knew better. He knew to keep his eyes and mind open to what was around him. Master Qui-Gon had spent years teaching him and here Obi-Wan was just... just... not noticing. It was embarrassing.

Anakin peeked into the room. “Obi? You feel swampy. You okay?”

“Yes.” He was embarrassed to have been caught unaware - he was clearly getting too comfortable on Mandalore - and ashamed of himself for not seeing that modesty was a large part of Mandalorian culture, even though he’d been on the planet for a year and it was something so obvious, but he let those feelings go and, at once, felt better.

At least he was still able to use that much of his training. He was able to look at Anakin and honestly smile. “I’m fine, Ani. And you know you’re supposed to keep your shields up unless it’s an emergency. It’s not polite to listen in on people’s feelings. Why don’t we go get some breakfast?”

***

After breakfast, they all got ready to attend the Festival of Stars.

It took a little time to be ready. Obi-Wan wore his customary uniform while Anakin dressed up in the clothes Padme had given him. Jaster and Jango had polished their armor to a shine. Satine came in dressed, once again, far more casually than Obi-Wan was used to seeing her. She wore white trousers tucked inside leather boots and a long sleeved, green tunic over it. To top off her look, she wore a long, gray cloak.

As their party went through the halls of the Fortress (Jaster and Doctor Gihan led the way, followed by Obi-Wan and Satine, with Jango trailing behind their procession, and Anakin drifting amongst them all) Obi-Wan said to Satine, “You’re looking smart. Jaster has good taste.”

She looked at the cloak. “Its as light as a handful of feathers.”

Jaster had given her the cloak after they’d eaten breakfast, grinning proudly as he handed it to her. “It’s an armorweave cloak. Not nearly as good as real armor, but it’s at least some protection. It’s a gift. Nothing more. Just a little something to show you how well I think of you.” He sighed, looking at her as she put the cloak on. “It’s a tradition that when a family wants to adopt an ad, they give a gift to symbolize how much the ad means to them. I should like you to consider this my gift to you. It’s not binding, there’s no promise involved. You don’t have to wear it.”

Satine got that determined look on her face, the one made her eyebrows draw together and her mouth tighten. “No. No, I’ll wear it. It’s beautiful. Thank you.”

Jaster made as if he would hug her, but stopped and put his hands determinedly behind his back, as if to stop himself.

In the hall of the Fortress, Obi-Wan quietly said to Satine, “Have you made your decision, yet?”

“No.” She watched Jaster, where he walked ahead of them. “He seems good, but I can’t help but think of Trion. I misjudged him so badly... what if I’m misjudging Jaster, too?”

“I don’t think Jaster would hurt you.”

“Perhaps. If only I knew for certain. I find I’m having a hard time trusting, lately. At the same time - he’s been kind to Bo-Katan. I’ve heard that he visited her a few times already. You know, our father sent me away to Coruscant, but he sent her to the yaim be bajur when she was just a toddler. She only even met him a few times in her life and that was because Teacher Frewn required him to come in for parent teacher meetings. Trion disliked Bo-Katan, he wanted nothing to do with her. But Jaster’s only been on the planet for a few days and he goes by to visit her all the time. He promised we’d stop by to pick her up so she can spend the day with us. I want Bo-Katan to have a real, proper Mandalorian role model. I may never fit the image of a good Mandalorian, but Bo-Katan is every inch the little warrior. She needs real warriors to guide her and that’s something I can’t give her, no matter how much I want to.”

Obi-Wan was not a bit surprised that Satine would make such a decision in the interests of her little sister. “You shouldn’t accept for someone else. Jaster would teach her without you accepting an adoption you don’t really want.” He gave the edge of her cloak a little tug. “By accepting this, you’re giving Jaster hope. And, if you go out like this, you’ll have everyone in Keldabe thinking that you’re accepting Jaster’s offer. Bo-Katan told Anakin that ‘everyone’ is talking about it and I’m sure people will guess that he gave you the cloak.”

“Well... maybe I will accept. It would be the practical decision. An adoption would also give Bo-Katan protection and the stability of a real family. An aliit. Teacher Frewn and everyone at the yaim be bajur do their best, but Bo-Katan sees people leaving all the time to go to their clan home and other ade get adopted when she’s left behind, not a foundling, but not wanted by her own buir. I can change that, now. This little outing will also have the added benefit of showing more people that just those in the Fortress that I am supporting Jaster.”

Obi-Wan grinned at her. “This is a festival - it’s supposed to be fun, not a political event.”

“I’m very talented; I can multi-task.” She eyed his cane. “Shouldn’t you be resting? I’m reasonably sure Doctor Gihan told you to take it easy and not run around the city on the busiest day of the year?”

“This is too good of a chance to show Mandalore that Jedi don’t have to be their enemies. I think our peoples can be friends. If I can do some small part to show Mandalorians that we aren’t so bad, it would be unjustifiable to lay around resting.”

Satine smiled and looked ahead to where Jaster and Anakin walked side-by-side. Jaster attentively listened as Anakin spoke enthusiastically about something that had caught his interest. Along the way, various staff and residents of the Fortress paused what they were doing to compliment Anakin on his miniature Jedi robe. “I don’t think you’ll have much trouble with your task. I think half the Fortress wants to adopt him. Good thing he has his mother or it would be an all-out brawl to see who gets him. I think he likes the gift Jaster gave him.”

Because it was apparent that Jaster, when surrounded by people younger than himself, couldn’t help himself from his own generosity. Anakin wore a Jedi robe... at least, he wore what appeared to be the Mandalorian interpretation of a Jedi robe. The robe was too short and the hood too big. While it was brown, the fabric was too light weight and the tailor who’d made it had sewn the hem with very fancy, white stitches that stood out boldly. But Anakin wore the new robe along with the white outfit Padme had given him very happily. Even Obi-Wan hadn’t been left out of Jaster’s gift giving.

“The Festival of Stars is a time for gifts.” He had given Obi-Wan a wide bracelet with a perfectly round, green crystal embedded in it. The bracelet was lightweight and when it was on Obi-Wan’s wrist, it could be tightened enough that it didn’t slide around his wrist or risk falling off.

“Thank you,” Obi-Wan said, wondering how much such a thing had cost. Jedi did not frequently wear jewelry, but there was a chance that he might be able to sell it in the future if credits were needed for an important mission that the Senate didn’t want to pay for. “I can’t accept such a thing. But it was kind of you to think of me.”

Jaster had smiled, knowingly. “As you have done your mandatory attempt to refuse a gift, I am going to insist on giving it to you. That Senate can’t take it from you, now. This isn’t just pretty to look at. It’s voice activated.” He took Obi-Wan’s wrist that had the bracelet on it and held it away from him. Then he announced, “All you have to do is say, ‘Shield, now.’” And just as Jaster had said that, a pale green energy shield was emitted from the bracelet. It was only about two feet in diameter and was attached to the bracelet so that when Obi-Wan moved his arm, the shield moved with it.

“Once again,” Obi-Wan had said, in awe of the gift. “Thank you, but you really don’t need to. A lightsaber acts as a shield.”

“And if you face two opponents at the same time? Or three? There may come a time when you need to block an attack at the same time as you are fighting. Please accept this gift - it will keep me from worrying and it is not a weapon so your laws that say a Jetii can’t use any weapon other than a lightsaber surely don’t apply. This is for defense, not attacking someone. ‘Shield deactivate’.” As soon as he said that, the shield vanished and Obi-Wan was left staring at the bracelet.

Obi-Wan bowed to Jaster. “This is a thoughtful gift and I will accept, happily.” Though he had no idea what the Masters at the Temple would say about such a thing. Master Qui-Gon would have thoroughly approved.

Obi-Wan looked at Satine and grinned. “Anakin loves the robe. But your cloak really is very fine. Do you suppose Jaster went to a Goran to have it made?”

“He did.” Both Obi-Wan and Satine started when Jango stepped up and walked between them. “Jaster found a Goran to make that cloak a few days ago. And why shouldn’t he go to such effort?” Jango smiled at Satine. “Not only does he want to be your buir, but he wants to make sure that no one doubts you are his choice as the next Mand’alor.”

Satine stopped dead in her tracks. She turned on Jango with a look of alarm on her face. “No.”

“Oh, yes. He told me he was going to train you to be his successor even before we reached Mandalore.”

Satine threw up her hands. “This is just awful!”

Jango laughed at her. “Well, you’ll have to get used to the idea. Buir says his successor is either you or me and I’m sure not going to do it - what a disaster that would be! And I thought you wanted to be Mand’alor.”

“Of course not.”

“Then what did you want to do with your life, vod’ika?”

“Well...” Satine hesitated. “I don’t know, really. Father always said I would take over for him, he never asked what I wanted to do.”

Jango asked, “What do you like doing?”

“Music.” She stiffened almost as soon as she said the word. “I realize that might not be impressive to a Mandalorian, but it’s something I’ve always enjoyed. I was just starting to learn to play the flute when father died and I had to come here and... I just haven’t had time for music since then.”

Jango stared at Satine. His eyes were wide and he grinned, broadly. “Really? A flute? This is great!” He called ahead to where Doctor Gihan and Jaster were walking together. “Buir! A word, please.” His call had caught not only Jaster’s attention, but also that of Doctor Gihan and Anakin. They all came back and when they did, Jango said to Jaster, “I need to go do an errand for a bit. I’ll be back.”

They all of them watched as Jango activated his jet pack and flew away.

“What was all that about?” Satine asked.

Herna-

She watched from a short distance away as Obi-Wan left the Fortress, laughing with the young duchess. Her boy looked pale. He leaned on a cane. Herna’s throat tightened. He seemed so much weaker than the last time she’d set eyes on him and her heart hurt for him. It was just as she’d feared - he wasn’t being taken care of. Her boy had gotten sick or hurt and Mereel didn’t care enough to help him.

All around her, the people of Keldabe and visitors who’d come from other planets in the empire collected on the great boulevard that ran in a straight line from the Fortress, in the center of Keldabe, to the Glass Gates that led into the desert surrounding the city. There were thousands of people. Vendors and craftsmen lined both sides of the wide street. The sunlight shone down strong and hot, making the day as bright and cheerful as one could hope for on a festival day. Everyone wore their finest. There was lots of polished armor, all of it freshly painted. There was a great multitude of weaponry on display, everyone bringing their newest or best to show off. There were families, groups of what were clearly friends, and solitary people all out to enjoy the day. There were couples who walked very close to one another, taking the event as an excuse to advertise their attachment to one another by letting their hands brush together as they walked.

Herna only really saw her boy.

Herna knew this was it. This was the day. He was sick, tired, and he needed her. She couldn’t possibly wait even a single day longer to get him. And the busy crowd would provide excellent cover to get him quietly away from anyone who might want to stop their happy reunion. Determined, Herna put a hand to her belt where she wore several small explosive charges. All she needed was a distraction.

To Be Continued...

Ad- child
Ade - children
Aliit - family
Yaim be bajur - school

Chapter Text

A/N: Dear readers: I’d like to take a moment to thank everyone who leaves a comment or gives a kudos for this story. It really helps encourage me to keep writing and I have so much fun reading the comments.

Chapter 40: Life Isn’t Fair

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
Jaster-

Jango flew off and Jaster watched him go, surprised. “He's in a bit of a hurry."

Kenobi said, “We were just talking and he got very excited about something. Do you suppose everything is alright?”

Jaster nodded. “My Jango is a little prone to dramatics at times, but he’s well able to look after himself. He’ll catch up later. Let’s go.”

Satine moved to walk next to Jaster. He didn’t miss the fact that, the minute they’d left the Fortress, she had straightened her back and walked with her head held high. It was as if she thought she needed to uphold some sort of image for the people, as silly as that was.

‘No,’ Jaster told himself as they walked. ‘Not silly. Different. She was raised in a different culture. Jango said it himself, different cultures do things differently. She was trained to be a Republic politician, so that’s how she knows how to behave. That Trion Lubek didn’t help matters. I hate to think what sort of nonsense he was filling her head with all these years.’ She’d already confessed, with an amused smirk, that she’d considered it perfectly respectable to go out in public with a dress that only covered her down to the knees and left her arms entirely bare. ‘Thank goodness her maid was there to protect her. That Lubek was no help to her at all if she thought that was appropriate.’

That led him to think about when Kenobi had, all innocence and big eyes, fully intended to go into public with his tunic sleeves rolled right up to his elbows. Jaster cringed at the idea. A little ad like Anakin might have gotten away with such a thing, but Kenobi was entirely too grown up to be going around half-dressed! And he tried not to think about what Satine had said about Mandalorians being prudish in comparison to Jetii as that line of thought made him consider legendary warriors with near magical fighting abilities showing up to a battlefield with bare arms... bare elbows... the robes they wore were long, but if they moved quickly there was a chance that those robes might fly up and reveal ankles or even - Ka’ra preserve him! - knees!

“Jaster,” Doctor Gihan stepped up on his other side. “Are you alright? My sensors show your heart rate has accelerated.”

“No. I’m fine. Nothing to worry about.” He desperately tried not to think about Jetii knees.

As they walked leisurely through the festival, Satine walked beside Jaster. He did notice that she frequently looked over her shoulder to where Kenobi, Anakin, and Doctor Gihan were following them.

“Doctor Gihan will take care of Kenobi,” Jaster reassured her after the third time he’d caught her looking over her shoulder. “He’ll be fine and Doctor Gihan will immediately tell me if we need to stop for a rest break or if Kenobi needs to go back to the Fortress to sleep.” Jaster hoped he sounded more confident than he felt. Kenobi’s health worried him more every day.

“I worry about him,” Satine admitted, softly. “He never did care much for looking after himself.” She gave her head a little shake and looked up at Jaster. “You know we’re going to have to spent most of the day together, don’t you? This isn’t a day to have fun. This will be an excellent opportunity to show everyone that I put my full support behind you, so we must be seen to be on friendly terms. There are some people and clans who still think I should be the Mand’alor, so I want them to understand what reality is.”

She was such a determined girl! So cute!

“We need show a united front to the Empire,” Satine said.

“That should be easy enough - we are a united front.”

“Well... yes, but politics is never easy.” Then her eyes narrowed a little. “Jango said you were going to name me as your successor to be the next Mand’alor?”

Jaster nodded. “Yes. That’s right. Did I forget to mention it?”

“I think we can both agree that my previous stint as the ruler of an empire was a rather spectacular failure. Why should it be repeated?”

“I wouldn’t say it was a failure so much as a lack of training.” Jaster did not add that it might also have something to do with a cretin like Lubek putting a literal child on a throne rather than finding a competent regent to make decisions until she came of age. Dear Satine had enough trauma where Lubek was concerned without pointing out that it looked very much like he had deliberately set her up to fail. “Not to fear,” he cheerfully told her. “I’ll be with you every step of the way through your training. I have complete faith that you will not only be the next Mand’alor, but that you will be an excellent leader for our people.”

She really shouldn’t have looked so stunned to have someone believe in her.

Satine looked away. “Bo-Katan was so excited to spend the day with us. Are we going to the yaim be bajur to pick her up?”

“No. I told Teacher Frewn that we’d meet her at the festival. There is apparently a rest area very close to here and we agreed to meet there.” He started to look around. Then he saw it, a small area with benches just off the boulevard. “Right there.”

They all settled in to wait. Kenobi sank down onto one of the benches as carefully as a man five times his age. He was pale and had dark circles around his eyes. Jaster was sure the lad had lost weight in the past few days.

Satine excused herself from Jaster and went to sit with Kenobi and Anakin while Doctor Gihan sat on a different bench a few yards away with Jaster. When Doctor Gihan sat, Jaster whispered, so the ade wouldn't overhear, “I don’t like this. I know I agreed to it, but he needs to rest.” He kept his voice low enough that he knew Kenobi wouldn’t hear.

“I already spoke to him,” Doctor Gihan said. “He gets two hours out here, then he’s done. You can keep Anakin, Satine, and Bo-Katan out, but I’ll take Kenobi back to the Fortress.”

“And then we all get to tell Anakin that he might lose his big brother.” It made Jaster sick.

“I gave Doctor Kretkin a head’s up. He’s ready to talk to Anakin the moment we’re ready. I spoke with Kenobi a moment ago. He still thinks it will needlessly worry Anakin.”

Jaster looked up at the sky. The sky was blue, lightly decorated with white clouds beyond the glass dome. Somewhere, far off, the Jetiise with the life-saving medicine were waiting for the end of the Solstice Storm and they couldn’t get there soon enough.

“I have three ships ready to go,” Jango had reassured Jaster only a short time before the festival had begun. “The Solstice Storm will end about two hours after your Challenge Match tonight and I’ll head out the moment your last Challenge Match is over. I will bring them back safely.”

For a little while, they all sat and watched people come and go. Anakin, to absolutely no one’s surprise, stayed very close to Kenobi. It was easy to see that the crowds made him uncomfortable. Anakin had been happy enough to drift away from Kenobi’s side while they’d been in the Fortress, but the moment they’d walked outside, to the sudden noise and crowds of people, Anakin had gone straight to Kenobi and stayed there.

At one point, a young family walked by - two adults and three small children. Jaster saw Anakin watch that family, closely. He watched them until they disappeared in the crowd down the street. For a short time, Anakin looked troubled and it was no wonder why as he was separated from his own family.

“Sissy?” Anakin said to Satine. “What was your mom like?”

Jaster sighed for Anakin’s obvious pain. It was as he’d suspected - Anakin needed his buir.

Satine answered, “I don’t know. She died when I was very, very young.”

“But your dad sent you to another planet. Who took care of you?”

“My nurse droid. She was wonderful.”

Anakin’s eyes lit up. “A nurse droid? I never saw a nurse droid. Where is she?”

“Gone. She broke down and my father wasn’t willing to pay for repairs. I was told that she was reconditioned. At least she wasn’t decommissioned.”

“What’s reconditioned?” Kenobi asked.

“When a droid isn’t working right, its’ memory is erased. That's called 'reconditioning' and 'decommissioning' is when a droid is destroyed because it's worthless. Even if I met her again, she wouldn’t know me.” Satine looked up at the sky. “I suppose she’s out there raising some other child. I hope she’s happy.”

Being raised by a droid. Jaster shuddered. There was something terribly unnatural about the whole idea. It never would have occurred to him to have Jango raised by a droid.

‘Different cultures, buir,’ Jaster remembered Jango telling him. ‘They probably think we’re pretty strange, too.’

Perhaps Jango was right. Maybe Jaster did need to see a little more of the galaxy. After all, Satine had turned out to be a nice young girl and she smiled softly when she spoke of her nurse droid, so being raised by a droid might not be as awful as it seemed to Jaster.

Myles and Silas, together as usual, found them at that rest area.

“Are you both ready?” Jaster had asked them.

Myles nodded. “We’ll be at Melida/Daan just a couple of days after the storm ends. It’s just a look-see mission, so I’m going alone,” Myles said. “If your information is right, then the planet is well in hand, but if not, I’ll send word back immediately and we’ll get it sorted out for the ade.”

It was a load off Jaster’s mind. The idea of a whole planet of ade being forced to fight their own buir, their aliit... it was an incomprehensible nightmare. The notion of it made him want to cry. He had no idea how such a terrible thing could have ever gotten going, but at least it was over and Jaster was sure his people would be willing to help a whole planet full of suffering ade if the Jetii’s Service Corps needed assistance. And, if they were very lucky, perhaps the ade on that planet might want new families and they might get a whole slew of new Mando’ade.

“And you?” Jaster turned to Silas. “Are you ready?”

“Like Myles’ mission, mine is just an information gathering mission, so I’m alright. We know Tatooine is a disaster - has been for centuries - but the question will be what to do about it.”

Jaster was honestly surprised by the question. “What to do? We’re going to conquer it. Oh, and if you find An’ika’s mother while you’re there, bring her here.”

“Do I have to buy her?”

Jaster snorted. “Certainly not! We’re Mando’ade! We don’t engage in slavery.”

“What about the bomb that’s in her? Little Anakin was worried about that.”

“Make the creature who thinks it owns her give you the controller for it.”

Myles grinned. “Can I hurt him?”

“If you like.”

“Can I kill him when I’m done?” Myles was a nice lad who’d never liked slavers.

“Of course. But bring her back. I can’t bear the thought of an ad separated from their buir. I know Ken’ika and his buir did what they could at the time, but there’s no reason for the situation to continue.”

“So, we’re going to conquer Tatooine? Does it belong to the Republic?” Silas asked. “Or does it belong to the Hutts? I think I heard a Hutt rules it.”

“No matter who rules it, if they want it so badly, they can fight us for it.”

Myles and Silas grinned wickedly at each other and Jaster smiled, fondly. Some ade never really grew up.

Myles looked beyond Jaster. “Looks like we should be on our way. You have a guest arriving.” The two of them headed off, quickly slipping away into the crowd.

The guest Myles had noticed was Teacher Frewn, carrying little Bo-Katan over one shoulder like a sack of flour. From the way she was giggling madly, Bo-Katan was clearly enjoying her ride, but the minute she spotted Satine, Bo-Katan’s good mood exploded into joy. She shrieked, “Ori’vod!” And wiggled and squirmed until Teacher Frewn let her down. Bo-Katan launched herself at Satine the moment she spotted her and hugged her tightly.

It was a lovely moment that would have been perfect if Kenobi could, miraculously, be suddenly healed. Jaster cast a look at the boy even as he gave Bo-Katan the tiny wooden sword he’d made for her (can’t give all the other ade a gift and forget the youngest one!). Kenobi met his eyes - he was tried, nearly drained - and managed a weak smile.

For the lad’s sake, Jaster forced himself to smile in return as he thought of how many lives would be made darker if Kenobi were to die. Anakin would be devastated. Satine would cry. And Jaster... Jaster’s heart would break.

Elsewhere-
Master Dooku-

Still at the edge of the Mandalorian Empire, Dooku sat at the ship’s little table with a chess board in front of him. After long deliberation of all possibilities, he moved a piece. Satisfied with that he stood up and, his robe whirling around him as he moved, as if tugged by an impossible breeze, he moved to the opposite side of the table. There, he sat and reconsidered the game board. Moments later, he smiled triumphantly and moved another piece. “Checkmate.” He announced to the empty room.

Plo Koon and Mace were in deep meditation in the bunk room, leaving Dooku alone to stand guard as they waited for the Solstice Storm to end.

With the game over, he strolled about the main room the little ship before he stopped at the locked safe anchored securely to a wall. Inside, he knew, was the syringe of antidote for the Arkon Poisoning. It was the greatest treasure on the ship. He contemplated the safe for a time, simply staring at the black metal box. Such a simple thing to save a life. The antidote cost a mere four credits to produce and had a shelf-life of nearly twelve years. But if they couldn’t reach the patient in time, then that simple cure was worthless.

He ate his share of the rations they’d brought from the Temple and took a glass of water. The rations that were used while Jedi were away from the Temple were not the usual Nutrition Mash that everyone at the Temple ate, but were small, tough bars about four inches long that were a mix of protein and filler. It could stop hunger pains, but, like Temple food, there was no taste. With his glass of water, he opened one of the food storage boxes and found small vials filled with a gray powder. He carefully looked through all of them until he found one marked ‘human’. The powder was a staple at the Temple and on missions. It was a mix that contained all the vitamins, minerals, and everything else needed to keep a person perfectly healthy. They had developed the perfect mix for each species in the Jedi Order. He opened the vial and poured the gray powder into his water, then drank the gritty, unpleasant liquid.

With his physical needs met, he decided that it was time to mediate. Yet it was no easy task to settle his mind. He had paced circles around the ship as Mace and Plo rested in their deep meditations and his mind had been pacing, too. He thought of what might be happening at the Temple, what Master Yoda was going through without Mace to take command of the Council and deal with the troubles the outside world always brought to them, of his youngest Grandpadawans so far out of reach and so far from any protection he could give them, and he mourned Qui-Gon.

Dirty little face with a missing front tooth, that bright smile beaming up at him.

The boy brought a frog to their apartment... a frog! He’d wanted to give it a bath, he’d told Dooku.

How closely he’d listened to Dooku’s lessons, how seriously he’d taken to saber lessons.

And then he’d brought Obi-Wan home.

Memory-

Dooku had been reading in his apartment when he felt, though the link that all Masters shared with their Padawans, that Qui-Gon was at the door. He smiled. It was always a relief to have his little ones home where he knew they would be safe. He set his book on the couch and stood to open the door. But when he did, he was more than a little surprised to find that his Padawan wasn’t alone. Standing just a step behind Qui-Gon, nearly hiding behind Qui-Gon’s robes, there was a boy.

Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi.

The boy had large gray eyes and rather reddish hair. There were freckles scattered across his nose and cheeks. And there was something fragile about him, as if he were waiting for one wrong word before he would turn and run. Dooku had investigated the boy the moment Qui-Gon had started talking about him.

“Well?” Dooku held the door open and stepped aside. “Are you coming in or not?”

Qui-Gon stepped in easily to the place that had been his home for years and Obi-Wan followed, rather hesitantly, at his heels.

Dooku closed the door and fought not to smile. He knew. He knew exactly what this visit was about and it wasn’t a mere social call. Such a thrilling moment! He knew exactly why Qui-Gon had brought the boy to Dooku’s apartment. There could be only one reason.

“Master Dooku,” Qui-Gon said, smiling sweetly. “How are you?”

Dooku’s eyes narrowed as he suddenly realized that Qui-Gon was planning to drag things out. Meaningfully, Dooku sat on his couch, with his hands on his knees and waited. If Qui-Gon wanted the boy as his Padawan, then Dooku was happy to give his blessing, but Qui-Gon seemed to think it more fun to keep him in suspense.

“It’s been quite a while since we’ve been able to talk,” Qui-Gon went on. “I thought we could go for a walk in one of the gardens. I could tell you about my latest mission.”

Dooku knew Qui-Gon was going to ask for Obi-Wan, but it amused Qui-Gon to make him wait and Dooku didn’t appreciate it.

“Don’t you have something to ask me?” Dooku said, pointedly. He had been waiting for another Grandpadawan and Qui-Gon wanted to joke?

“Ask? Ask? Well, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

Dooku felt a rise of impatience, and let it go. He looked at the boy. “Good evening, Initiate. I’m afraid my uncouth Padawan has entirely failed to recall his manners and introduce us. I am Master Dooku.”

The boy’s eyes went wide. He looked at Qui-Gon and when Qui-Gon said nothing, the boy gave Dooku a little bow. “Good evening, Master Dooku. I’m Initiate Obi-Wan Kenobi. Ummm... I’m sorry if we’ve disturbed you.”

“Not at all.” Qui-Gon put a fond hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “Just as I told you -”

Dooku sharply held up a hand. “Halt. It is rude to interrupt when people are speaking and I do believe that Initiate Kenobi and I were speaking.” He looked back at the boy. “Now, I’m sorry to say that I don’t often have time to visit the creche. From the looks of you, I would guess you would be about twelve?”

Initiate Kenobi nodded his head. “Yes, Master Dooku.”

Of course Dooku had already known Initiate Kenobi’s age. Qui-Gon had been giving himself heartburn about whether or not to take the boy as his Padawan for weeks. It seemed that several people were pressuring him into taking a Padawan that he felt terribly unready to care for. He had gone to Dooku for advice and to his Grandmaster before he announced to them both that he wouldn’t take another Padawan.

And now he’d brought the boy in question to Dooku’s apartment, yet made Dooku wait, amused to keep his Master waiting because they both knew why Qui-Gon had brought Obi-Wan to Dooku and they both knew how it would end. Qui-Gon always had liked getting reactions from people with oftentimes outlandish behavior or words. Well, if he wanted a reaction then Dooku, as always, would oblige.

Dooku said to Obi-Wan, “Won’t you sit with me? I happen to have received a gift of Hyvan tea from an acquaintance. I think you may like it.”

“Thank you, Master Dooku. That would be very nice.”

“Your Creche Master has taught you fine manners, Initiate. Would you like to be my Padawan?”

Qui-Gon spluttered and Dooku felt a surge of surprise and panic even as Obi-Wan froze at the offer. He looked at Qui-Gon as if to ask for direction, but Qui-Gon wasn’t in any state of mind to give instruction. Qui-Gon fell to his knees in front of Dooku and bowed low, the palms of his hands on his knees and his face tilted to the floor. Quickly, he blurted out, “Master, I ask your blessing to bring this initiate into our line. This initiate shows strength of character and a clear connection with the Force that must be nurtured. He will be a valuable asset to the Order and a willing agent of the Force.”

Obi-Wan stared open-mouthed at the traditional words as Qui-Gon asked for Dooku’s blessing to bring Obi-Wan into their Line. Qui-Gon must have kept it a secret from him, as well, so he might have the pleasure of Dooku’s annoyance when he didn’t ask permission immediately and Obi-Wan’s surprise when he finally did. After a few seconds to get over his shock, Obi-Wan scrambled to get on his knees next to Qui-Gon and, as was custom, he sat bolt upright, the very picture of a well-behaved little Initiate.

Dooku let the silence stretch on. He let Qui-Gon stay in that position for a solid three minutes before he finally gave a little sigh. “I’m not sure I approve.”

Qui-Gon’s head shot up, all signs of his previous amusement gone.

“After all,” Dooku continued. “I have heard so much about Initiate Kenobi.” And that was true enough. All of those nice things that Dooku had heard had come either from Qui-Gon or Yoda. He had excellent marks. Quick to befriend anyone who might let him. Not a genius by any mark, but a serious student with a stern work ethic. A wild temper, but the understanding that such temper must be tamed and the will to do it with the guidance of a dedicated Master. A talent for saber work. A true joy to know. “In fact, I think I might like to have him for myself. I haven’t had a Padawan in a good long while, after all. Perhaps it is time I set myself to teaching, once more.”

Qui-Gon looked like he might cry. “But... Master...?”

Dooku motioned for Obi-Wan to go to him and when Obi-Wan shuffled closer on his knees, Dooku reached forward and brushed the boy’s hair out of his eyes. It was time for a haircut. “What do you say, Initiate? I will repeat my offer - would you like me to braid your hair?”

There was no verbal answer needed. Dooku could feel it. He felt the boy’s nervousness, the surprise that he was in the situation at all, and happiness that two Masters would ask for him, but...

Dooku smiled at Obi-Wan, but scowled at Qui-Gon. “It seems that while Initiate Kenobi has many fine qualities, he lacks good taste. He would rather have you, my rapscallion, as a Master than myself. I will have to settle for being his Grandmaster. I give my blessing.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes got rather misty. He breathed out the word, as if he couldn’t quite believe it, “Grandmaster.”

And then Qui-Gon, all six-foot four inches of him, threw himself at Dooku and hugged him tightly. “Thank you, Master.”

Dooku allowed the hug for a moment, then waved a hand at Qui-Gon’s face. “Off! Off! Enough of such sentiment!”

Qui-Gon, used to the fact that his Master was not a person who enjoyed physical touch, quickly backed away. Even as he beamed at Dooku, he said, “I can’t believe you’d do that to me! That was mean!”

Dooku gave him a light smack on the side of the head. “Then don’t play games with your Master’s blood pressure, you little beast.”

End Memory-

“I should have hugged him more,” Dooku said, aloud as he stared out a window at the stars. There was no one alert enough to hear his regret, no one to offer any sort of unwanted pity.

There was a movement. Dooku watched and realized that it was a ship. He went to the cockpit and sat in the pilot’s seat just as a proximity alert sounded, telling him that the other ship was drawing closer. Dooku watched it for a few moments. The Force gave him no sign for alarm. While he would have far preferred to remain unnoticed while they waited for the Solstice Storm to end, it seemed that the choice was taken away from him.

The ship, when it came close enough to be clearly visible, was small and sleek. A one-man ship, powerfully armed and designed for high maneuverability. It wasn’t a common ship, most wouldn’t recognize it. Dooku did recognize the old, Sprite model. Sprite ships were the most common small ship used by the Service Corps. While each Corps had their huge flag ships and a host of smaller ships, the tiny Sprites were used for single person missions along with defending the larger ships if anyone should think to attack them. He tapped the communicator. “Sprite, this is Master Dooku. What is your business?”

“A fine welcome,” said a well-known voice. “Shall I leave now so I don’t interrupt your exciting wait out here?”

Dooku rolled his eyes. “Sarcasm is noted. There is a free docking port on this ship. Come aboard.”

“Well... since you asked so nicely.”

It was barely five minutes later when the Sprite had docked, the ports opened, and Dooku’s guest boarded. The guest was rather tall and muscular in the way that spoke of a life of hard work. His hair was blonde and he had pale blue eyes. He saw Dooku and grinned and Dooku felt his heart lighten at the sight of that smile.

In the main area of the ship, Dooku and his visitor met and they bowed to each other. Any outsider might be forgiven for thinking it a cold greeting, but the Force pulsed with warmth around them and they both let their shields lower for a brief moment to share in their emotions. There was happiness to see one another, a lingering uncertainty, and, under it all, pain. Then the shields were brought back up and the emotions hidden.

It was good to see him. “Feemor. Welcome.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster. I’ve brought you a gift,” He took a pouch off his belt and tossed it onto the ship’s only table. “One thousand credits. It’s a gift from the Service Corps.”

“Thank you. I will hope that we won’t need it.” But it was a kind, thoughtful gift and he wouldn’t be so arrogant as to turn it away. “You didn’t need to come out here.”

They sat together and Dooku offered Feemor what little refreshment he could.

“Of course I did. He’s my brother.” He met Dooku’s eyes. “And you are my Grandmaster. How could I not come here?”

They spent some time talking of Obi-Wan and the new little boy Obi-Wan was protecting, and other such things until Feemor said,

“I think the Jedi should all join the Service Corps. I’ve said that for years.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The Service Corps has better access to food, medicine, and other such supplies. We are not tethered to a planet and can move about as we please. We are not tied to the Senate by any ancient contract. The younglings can learn as they please and move into which branch of the Service Corps fits them best. Master Dooku, the younglings are safer with us than they are on Coruscant. All the Order would be.”

“We know that. But if the entire Order vanished from Coruscant to join the Service Corps, then it would give the Senate an opportunity to not only vilify us to the people of the Republic, but to also vilify the Service Corps. They could make it so that no one would provide work for us.”

“The Service Corps can grow our own food, provide our own medical care, educate ourselves, and defend ourselves. We don’t need the Republic to survive.”

“And how well would the Service Corps do if they are not allowed to serve?”

Feemor looked away.

It was the ultimate question, of course. What Feemor said was true - the Service Corps and the Jedi together could survive, but the Force called on them to Serve. To serve the will of the Force, to serve the people of the galaxy. If they were not welcomed anywhere, if they were not given the opportunity to serve, then they would survive, but there would be very few of them who could be happy.

It was an awful idea - to see people in need and not be able to help, to be condemned to stand idle. They would be made to ignore the call to Serve. Doing so was not good for any Jedi and their brethren in the Service Corps felt that need to Serve just as keenly.

“It’s cruel,” Feemor muttered. “The Republic is the only place where the Order is welcome, but they don’t treat Jedi well. Yet, our own nature makes us WANT to be of service to others, so we’ve stayed far longer than we should have.”

Dooku sternly said, “If you have come to indulge in self-pity, I suggest that you stop. Reality isn’t always what we wish it could be, but we must deal with it.” Dooku sat back in his seat and folded his hands on his lap. “We received a message from Master Yoda. We have suspicion about what is happening, but we’ve been reluctant to contact the Temple on the off chance that a message might be intercepted by a person who shouldn’t know private Temple business. I expect that Master Yoda had the same trepidation as he hasn’t attempted to contact us other than that first message. Tell me what is happening at the Temple. Tell me about this Senator. Master Koon said he was... rude... to our youngest boys.”

“You mean our new Chancellor? Chancellor Palpatine? He was confirmed just before I left the Temple. It’s empty, by the way.”

“What?”

“The Temple. It’s empty.” Feemor told Dooku everything. That the new Chancellor of the Republic was all but demanding unsupervised access to underage younglings - one of whom wasn’t yet technically part of the Order, but who was separated from his mother and legally under the care of the Jedi. It was a flagrant disregard of the laws that governed the relationship between the Jedi and the Republic. Feemor said that Chancellor Palpatine had given veiled warnings of the power that he would have over the Jedi. Master Yoda had called the Service Corps for help and all Corpsmen not currently handling an emergency somewhere in the galaxy had gone straight to the Temple. He told of how the decision had been made to relocate all vulnerable members of the Order to the safety of the Service Corps’ ships and, shortly after, that everything in the Temple - from every crecheling’s rattle to the dark artifacts kept securely in the Archives - had been transferred to the Service Corps.

“We stand ready to evacuate.”

It was good, Dooku knew. It was time that the Jedi left Coruscant, cut the ties that tethered them to the Senate. This decision was a long time coming and he felt, deep within himself, some angry knot began to dissolve with the knowledge that they were so close to real freedom. Independence.

“Grandmaster?”

“Yes, Feemor?”

“I can sense your... satisfaction. I think it’s satisfaction. Really, if you’re going to let me know what you’re feeling, you should just let down your shields so I can understand properly. I’m not sure if you’re feeling satisfaction or joy or... maybe fear?”

“Perhaps all at once.”

Feemor grinned. “So many emotions? Goodness... what will this do to the reputation of the Jedi if anyone learns of this? The citizens will have a collective aneurysm if they realize we’re actually people.”

“They will have to get used to the idea that control of emotions does not equal lack of emotions.” Dooku sniffed at Feemor. “I don’t approve of the bitterness in your tone.”

Feemor’s smile faded a bit. “I think a little bitterness can be understood in this situation.” He ran both hands over his short hair and leaned forward. Tired. Dooku could feel that slipping through Feemor’s shields. “We shouldn’t have to leave our home. As terrible as the Senate is, Coruscant has been the home of the Jedi for centuries. It’s like we’re being punished for being mistreated. We’ve done nothing wrong. We haven’t forbidden a whole society from earning their own way, then doled out supplies in the stingiest manner possible. We don’t risk starving helpless younglings, elders, and the infirm. We don’t send others out to die for our causes into hopeless situations. We haven’t done anything wrong. It’s not... it’s not fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Dooku said. “If it were, Qui-Gon would still be alive.”

“Are you doing alright, Grandmaster?” Feemor asked. “I heard you were alone when... when it happened. I know he’s the first connection you’ve lost.”

“Yes, he was. And I have survived his Rejoining the Force. And you? Are you alright?” He knew very well that this was not the first time Feemor had suffered a loss. Qui-Gon was his second Master, after all. Qui-Gon had been extremely young for taking on an orphaned Senior Padawan and it hadn’t been an easy road for either of them, but they had done well and Feemor had been Knighted. “I hope you weren’t alone when it happened.”

“I wasn’t. One of the many benefits of the Service Corps, we are rarely far from others who can help. And I was able to help myself. Thank you for your consideration.”

Feemor had been an accomplished Jedi before he’d heard the Force calling him to the Service Corps. His mental shields were strong and steady. All the same, Dooku had known the boy for years and he could see the unhappiness, the grief, in Feemor’s eyes.

Dooku leaned forward and reached out, putting a hand firmly on the back of Feemor’s neck. “Don’t lie to me, youngling. It is no easy thing to lose your Master. Don’t let yourself be dragged down by your pain - neither of your Masters would have wanted that for you.”

“I know, but it’s comforting to hear you say it.” Feemor relaxed against Dooku’s hand. “I dealt with Master’s Rejoining the Force. It’s Obi-Wan that I’m worried about.”

“Leave that to me. I will find your brother and I will deliver him home.” He gave Feemor’s neck a little squeeze. “And it’s perfectly fine for you to be sad about your Master, even if he wasn’t your first loss. You are working hard to help our Order, but you don’t need to ignore yourself. I wish I had been there for you. For you, for Obi-Wan, and for the new little one.”

“Thank you, Grandmaster. I do have some more pleasant news - I have another gift for you. Well, it’s not from me. Master Nu caught me when I was at the Temple and told me to give it to you. It’s old.” He reached into one of the pockets of his gray tunic and pulled out a small, red book. “Master Nu said you might find this useful. You’re to read it. All of you.”

Dooku took the book.

“She said it was all she could find on short notice, but you’re all to read and understand it before you meet any Mandalorians.”

When Master Nu, who far preferred her work in the archives to bothering herself with the outside world, gave advice, it was always best to listen. “I will read it and pass it on to Masters Koon and Windu. Thank you.”

Feemor left, back to his Sprite and back to Coruscant to support Yoda, and Dooku, after checking briefly on Plo and Mace - both of whom still rested peacefully - sat down to read the book. Master Nu would never send something if it weren’t important.

To Be Continued...

Ka’ra - Mandalorian myth - a council made of the spirits of past Mand’alors.
Yaim be bajur - school
Ad - child
Ade - children
Aliit - family / clan
Buir - parent
Ori’vod - elder sibling
Mando’ade - Mandalorians

Chapter Text

A/N:

WARNING: Please look to the very end of this chapter to read a warning about this chapter. There are spoilers for this chapter in the warning.

If you don’t think you need a warning, then please ignore the warning and start reading at ‘GO’.

Ready... Go.

Chapter 41: Dirty

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
Obi-Wan-

Together, they - Jaster, Satine, Bo-Katan, Anakin, Doctor Gihan, and Obi-Wan - walked through the Festival of Stars. Really, it was a wonderful day for an outing. Obi-Wan loved to see Satine and Bo-Katan so happy just to be together and, while Anakin was clearly uneasy with the crowds - he stuck very close to Obi-Wan - he was also fascinated by everything around them.

The Festival of Stars was as lovely a celebration as any that Obi-Wan had seen throughout the galaxy. It was very casual and everyone appeared to be having a good time. Anakin kept an eye on Obi-Wan and a hand on his robe, always looking up at him every few minutes, even as he seemed nearly overwhelmed by all the things to look at and hear.

“Are you doing okay?” Anakin had asked Obi-Wan after they passed a puppet show. There had been a tiny theater set up for the puppeteers to hide behind while their puppets acted out the story. In front of it, had sat a dozen ade, giggling and laughing at the story. Of course, the story was told in Mando’a, so while Anakin had watched curiously, he was more than ready to move on when he spotted a juggler tossing around axes.

With a chuckle and a pat to Anakin’s shoulder, Obi-Wan said, “I’m doing alright. The Solstice Storm breaks tonight, so very soon I’ll get the medicine I need. You don’t need to worry. I want you to have fun today. There aren’t many people in the Republic, certainly not many Jedi, who get to attend a Mandalorian Festival. Think of all the new and interesting things you’ll get to see today. It will be very educational.”

At the head of their little parade through the Festival of Stars, Jaster and Satine walked side by side. They smiled easily at one another and chatted pleasantly with the people they met.

“Oh, this?” Satine held out the edges of the armorweave cloak Jaster had given her and smiled at it, admiringly, when a random passer-by commented on it. “It was a gift from Mand’alor Mer... oh. Excuse me. It was a gift from Alor Mereel. Very striking isn’t it? And so lightweight. I’ve never been given anything quite like it. It was so kind of him. But he did want me to have at least some type of protection before I start my lessons. I’ll be beginning lessons at the local yaim be bajur very shortly. My first day has been delayed a couple of times due to circumstances, but I am eager to start.”

Obi-Wan watched as she started walking away and the man she’d been speaking to gave Jaster an approving nod. It really was very remarkable that for a girl who said she didn’t enjoy politics, Satine was quite good at it. All she had to do was speak like that to a few more people - show that she appreciated Jaster and that she was beginning to get the hang of Mandalorian culture - and soon the whole city would be talking about what a good influence Jaster was on Satine and that if he could be such an influence on a sworn pacifist, then surely he would be an even better influence on the empire as a whole. Obi-Wan had to give Satine credit - she was doing an admirable job cementing the idea that she had no intention at all, ever, of trying to challenge Jaster. People who supported her wouldn’t have any reason to cause trouble which would, in the end, make life for all Mandalorians a great deal better.

If only Death Watch was so simple to deal with.

Obi-Wan looked down at Anakin, who walked with one hand on the sleeve of Obi-Wan’s robe and his other hand on Aranar’s back. It seemed that the Mereel family striil wasn’t about to be left behind when everyone else was going out for the day. Anakin’s head kept turning this way and that as he tried to take in the whole festival all at once. He had been so well-behaved. Anakin hadn’t asked for a single snack or toy from the hundreds of merchants who had stalls set up along the boulevard. He hadn’t even made a peep about going to look at a display of jet packs that were for sale. Instead, he’d kept right next to Obi-Wan the whole time. Obi-Wan would have been very proud, except he was reasonably certain that, as a slave, Anakin had never had the opportunity to get treats and so not asking for a snack was actually quite easy for him. All the same, he’d have to think of something nice for Anakin to reward him. Perhaps a story before bedtime.

At one point, they passed a food stall with roasted, spiced fruit on skewers and the smell caught Anakin’s attention. He stopped walking and stared at the busy cook preparing and handing out the little snacks. As Anakin was still holding Obi-Wan’s robe, Obi-Wan stopped, too. The smell was wonderful. He’d gotten quite used to Mandalorian food during his previous time on Mandalore and he smiled just smelling it.

“Would you like a snack?” Jaster asked Anakin and Obi-Wan. “We’ve been walking for a while.”

“I don’t need anything.” Then Anakin gasped. “Obi! What’s that?!”

He broke away from Obi-Wan and ran to the other side of the boulevard where a man had set up several large tanks of water, each one filled with a whole rainbow of brightly colored fish. Anakin stopped several feet in front of the display of fish and stared with wide, awed eyes.

Everyone followed and Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan. “What are they?”

“Fish.”

“And they live in water?” For all his curiosity, Anakin seemed reluctant to move closer and Obi-Wan wondered what it must be like to come from a planet with almost no water to see a type of creature that required water to live. What would Anakin think of swim lessons once they got back to the Temple?

“Yes.” Obi-Wan bent down to get a better look at the fish that had so fascinated Anakin. “They need to stay in the water or they’ll die. When we get to the Temple, I’ll introduce you to Master Fisto. He can breathe underwater, too.”

Jaster knelt on Anakin’s other side and explained, “They’re for sale. Very popular and very delicious.”

Anakin looked aghast. “You eat them?! But they’re so pretty.”

“Yes, but they taste even better than they look. Would you like to try one?”

Obi-Wan started to wave a hand at Jaster to dissuade him so as to not disappoint Anakin, but Jaster didn’t so much as look at him before Anakin, still smiling brightly, chirped. “You’d do that for me? You’d buy me food?”

“Sure thing. Here, you can pick one out and...”

“Oh, no.” Anakin didn’t stop smiling when he shook his head. “We don’t have any credits, so we’re not going to eat today.” Anakin’s stomach rumbled and he firmly declared. “I’m NOT hungry - it’s just being loud.”

As far as lies when, it was not a very good one. Obi-Wan made a mental note to have Anakin start out with the beginner’s course for lying. He also cringed a bit at Anakin’s phrasing. For a child to plainly say they were not planning to eat because they couldn’t afford it was just begging for attention in that particular society.

Nearby, several Mandalorians turned their heads sharply at Anakin’s words and Obi-Wan knew exactly what they were thinking and what was likely to happen. He hung his head, resigned, and hoped Anakin wouldn’t be spoiled too badly.

Sure enough, by the time Obi-Wan raised his head, two new Mandalorian’s were standing with them. “What’s the matter?” One of them asked Anakin. “Are you not getting enough to eat? If you’re hungry, come and eat with us.”

The second Mandalorian said, “Is your family not doing well?” They cast a look at Obi-Wan and he had the urge to pull up his hood to hide his braid and make himself look a little more grown up. But it was too late as the second Mandalorian asked him, “Are you two family? We don’t see many Jetii around here and certainly not Jetii’ade without a guardian. Is everything alright, dear?”

If Obi-Wan had spent less time studying diplomacy with Master Qui-Gon, he might have blushed at a stranger calling him ‘dear’ or ‘ad’. Instead, he pushed the pain at the question of his ‘guardian’ aside. “There’s nothing to worry about, but I thank you for your concern. My Master can’t be with us at the moment, but we are being very well taken care of while we visit Mandalore.”

As if Obi-Wan hadn’t spoken, the man selling the fish hastily wrapped up a half-dozen fish in an insulating fabric that would keep them fresh for many hours and gave them to Jaster, who put them in a satchel he’d brought with him, which made Obi-Wan realize that Jaster had been planning to buy treats the whole time. “For the little one,” the vender said with a watery sounding voice. The man selling the roasted, spiced fruit from across the boulevard had also heard the commotion and came over to hand skewers of fruit to Anakin and Bo-Katan. Jaster paid them both, while the men - good Mandalorians that they were - tried to refuse.

With his hands full of food, Anakin looked at Obi-Wan, shocked. “Can I take it?”

“They were gifts. It’s alright.” Obi-Wan wished he had a few credits so he could give Anakin some to spend. “You know,” he said when they all started walking, again. “Master Qui-Gon once gave me a few credits. I still don’t know where he got them, but I was so excited. We’d gone out into the city around the Temple for the day. There was no real reason, he just wanted to go for a long walk.” They’d walked all over the city and seen things Obi-Wan didn’t even known were close to the Temple. For that day, Master Qui-Gon had given Obi-Wan five credits to spend.

“It’s all you get, though,” Master Qui-Gon had warned, softly. “No more. So think wisely before you spend it.”

Obi-Wan had bought a large box of colored wax sticks and with them he and all of his friends had been able to draw with colors. It had been so exhilarating and, best of all, Master Windu and Master Che had given them permission to draw a mural on the wall outside the infirmary.

That had been such a special moment in Obi-Wan’s life and he knew he would forever remembered the feeling of awe when Master Qui-Gon had trusted him with the credits, not to do something foolish and waste them. Perhaps buying the wax sticks was foolish, in hindsight, but as a youngling, a very young padawan, it had seemed like the most wonderful thing he could share with the people he cared for.

There was more than food and games at the Festival of Stars. There were exhibitions, displays of art, more than one area where friends could have a pleasant sparing match, and several Goran who had set up forges at various places along the boulevard and worked in the open for all to see and admire. They had just reached an area where there were quite a few people playing what seemed to be a sort of game that involved throwing rocks at each other when Jango rejoined them.

Jango smirked at them all. “I have presents.” He gave Bo-Katan a rag doll dressed in fabric armor, which she hugged happily, then handed a metal flute to Satine. “It’s called a bes’bev,” Jango said. “The minute you said you liked music, I knew it was for you.”

“It’s lovely.” Satine admired the flute, running her fingertips down the metal tube. “Thank you.”

Jango puffed out his chest with pride and Jaster watched it all with an expression that hinted he might just cry if someone made the slightest soft comment.

Now with Jango, they continued on their way and, before long, they came upon an area where a gaggle of younglings were running in short sprinting races. Bo-Katan, naturally, wanted to join in. The whole group - Jaster, Jango, Satine, Doctor Gihan, and Obi-Wan - all cheered loyally for her when she ran. She then went to Anakin to pester him to join in the fun.

Anakin pulled his arm away from Bo-Katan. “I don’t want to play with you. Girls got cooties.”

It was enough to make Obi-Wan laugh. “You didn’t think Padme had cooties.” Indeed, Anakin had been rather happy to cuddle with Padme.

“Padme not a girl,” Anakin rolled his eyes. “She’s a woman.”

“Padme is fourteen,” Obi-Wan said. “She’s a kid.”

Anakin put his fists on his hips. “If she’s a kid, then where are her mom and dad?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. “Well... I don’t know.”

If Obi-Wan hadn’t been so focused on Anakin, if he had been able to use the Force to sense what was going on around him, he might have noticed Jaster perk up. As it happened, Obi-Wan was focused on Anakin and he wasn’t able to use the Force to sense what was going on around him, so he did not see Jaster’s sudden interest at the mention of an underage child without parents.

Obi-Wan continued, blissfully unaware of what he’d triggered. “No matter where her parents are, she’s not a grown-up.”

It took Bo-Katan calling Anakin a scaredy-tooka to get him to join in with the other younglings and race. He was fast and while neither he nor Bo-Katan won against the older, bigger younglings, he was smiling and laughing in minutes.

Obi-Wan watched the racing, very happy that Anakin was doing well despite how uneasy he was, when Doctor Gihan put a hand on his shoulder and said, “I think you’ve been getting quite enough excitement for the time being. I want you to sit and rest for a time.” He gave Obi-Wan what he recognized as a compact protein bar. One of those things could keep a person feeling full and energized for hours and he should know - he’d eaten enough of them during missions gone wrong. “Now, let’s find you a seat.”

They started to walk Obi-Wan away from the excitement of the youngling’s races when there was a cry. Two of the younglings had careened into each other, resulting in skinned knees and elbows. Unfortunately, one of the younglings was quite young and wasn’t yet in the usual Mandalorian mind set of ‘what doesn’t kill me makes me stronger’ so she lay on the ground and bawled.

Doctor Gihan was clearly torn about where to go - to the youngling or to stay with Obi-Wan - so Obi-Wan told him, “Go on. I’ll be fine. Look, I’ll be right there,” he pointed to what was clearly a Gorna’s Smithy. “I couldn’t be safer than at a Smithy, now could I?”

“Very well,” Doctor Gihan said. “Looks like the Goran has some benches set up around his Smithy. You go and sit and get some rest. I’ll be back in just a few minutes.” He shook his finger at Obi-Wan. “Do NOT wander off!”

“Yes, sir.”

The Smithy was small, clearly a temporary set up just for the Festival of Stars, and partitioned off from its’ neighbors by the benches Doctor Gihan had noticed, as if the Goran were expecting an audience. Obi-Wan went to the Smithy and stood at one of the benches, but turned around to watch the crowd.

He could see Satine standing with Jaster, politely smiling and speaking with anyone who would approach her. Obi-Wan saw several people take notice of the bes’bev tucked into her tunic’s pocket. It was a very good, casual time for her to get to meet more of her people and Obi-Wan wondered how often in the past four years she’d wanted to do just this and hadn’t felt safe enough to do it, had feared a Death Watch attack would kill more of her people if she set foot outside the Fortress.

The youngling’s races had apparently been put on pause while the little girl who’d hurt herself was tended to. Anakin, Obi-Wan noticed, had gravitated to Jango. Rather, he had gone to Aranar, who sat, patient and foreboding, next to Jango. Anakin had pink cheeks and was panting for breath. He was so happy that he was laughing. It was so rare to see Anakin laugh, let alone to see him laughing so boisterously that Obi-Wan became all the more certain that Mandalore was the place where Anakin would be happiest and that was such a bitter-sweet moment because while Obi-Wan wanted Anakin to be happy, he knew it would mean they would be parted. Obi-Wan knew he wouldn’t stay on Mandalore. He had to go back to the Temple.

“May I help you?”

Obi-Wan swung his head toward the voice and noticed that the Goran had stopped his work and come to stand near Obi-Wan with only one of the benches separating them. The tools the Goran held - a pair of long tongs and a long handled hammer - were very recognizable. Obi-Wan did know about Gorans and the exalted status in Mandalorian society they held - such a thing couldn’t be missed. He bowed.

“Forgive me, but no. I have no credits. I was just interested. I’ve never seen a forge. Jedi lightsabers are made in a very different manner than your weapons and armor, I suspect. Forgive my curiosity.”

The Goran was silent for a time. The Goran was huge, male by the sound of his voice, and stood with his arms crossed. There was something - heavy- about the Goran, something that felt bigger and more significant than a mere craftsman.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have bowed, Obi-Wan thought. He was suddenly and shamefully reminded of his little misunderstanding about Mandalorian cultural modesty and, perhaps, this was another of his mistakes. Jaster and Jango had been very accepting of Obi-Wan’s culture and while he and Satine had differences, she’d always tried to be respectful about Jedi culture, but he knew some Mandalorians weren’t so understanding. He tried not to fidget. Perhaps bowing was rude and no one had thought to tell him. “Forgive me for not introducing myself. I am Padawan Kenobi. I hope I haven’t given offense...”

“No.” The Goran raised his head a little higher and Obi-Wan wished he could feel the Force enough to read the Goran’s mood. But he couldn’t and could only rely on his other senses and as the Goran wore his full armor, Obi-Wan couldn’t even rely on facial expression. “Come in and learn. You are... not well.”

“Just a bit under the weather, your honor. It’s nothing contagious, so there’s no need to worry.”

“Sit.” He gestured to one of the benches.

Obi-Wan sat and watched as the Goran began the process of making something. The fire, the sound of the hammer strikes, the shine of molten beskar... it was, in its’ own way, beautiful. Hypnotic, even. Even with all the activity of the festival, Obi-Wan found great peace in watching the Goran at his work.

“Where is your guardian?” The Goran asked. “I believe that Jetii don’t have parents.”

“That’s usually true. Alor Mereel has assumed the responsibility of our well-being while we’re on Mandalore, but my people are coming very soon.”

“So you have no buir?”

Obi-Wan hesitated. He knew very well that, according to Mandalorian culture, Master Qui-Gon would have been his buir, even if Obi-Wan didn’t call him that. “My Master died, recently. But there are others coming. I’ll be quite alright.”

“I see. So... you have no other buir?”

Master Tahl. Master Tahl had Rejoined the Force several years ago. Master Qui-Gon was with her. She’d given such warm hugs... “No, sir.”

“And no one else has spoken to you about taking you as their ad?”

“Well, I think Alor Mereel would, but, as I told him, I have family at the Jedi Temple. So, it’s just not possible.”

“And no one but Alor Mereel has given you any hint that they might like to keep you?”

Obi-Wan frowned. “No. No one at all. Why do you ask?”

“It’s no matter. Don’t f ret.” The Goran kept working and didn’t ask anything more.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes and enjoyed the heat he could feel radiating from the forge. Behind him, he could hear Anakin laughing... All was at peace...

...
...
...

Obi-Wan woke slowly. He hadn’t even been aware that he’d fallen asleep, but rather that sit up right away - because he had somehow managed to get himself laying down on the bench he’d been sitting on, he just lay there and listened.

“Alor Mereel has taken them as his wards for the time being,” Doctor Gihan said, keeping his voice low. “The boy’s been unwell, but his people will be here soon.”

Obi-Wan cracked open his eye and saw that Doctor Gihan was sitting on the bench next to Obi-Wan, speaking to the Goran.

“His people?” The Goran asked. “Or his family?”

“The Jetiise, I mean. He loves them dearly and... oh! Anakin, don’t get too close. That’s dangerous.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes flew open and he saw Anakin standing on his toes, trying to peer into the Forge.

Anakin, blissfully unaware of the power a Goran held in Mandalorian society or that he should be showing deference to a person of such a station, held his hands out to warm them at the Goran’s fire. “I like your place,” he said to the Goran, cheerfully. “It’s nice and warm in here.”

Pav-

Before Padawan Kenobi had wandered over to his Smithy, Pav had been waiting for Alor Mereel to make his appearance at the Festival of Stars. He had been sure that the possibly next Mand’alor would attend the festival, as it would do him well to build as much support amongst the people as possible. When Alor Mereel had appeared, Pav noted that the people seemed to like him. Alor Mereel spoke easily with everyone, calm and confident. He smiled readily and when he and his party stopped near Pav’s smithy so the little ones could join in with ade’s races, Pav watched the man cheer loudly for all the ade. When the little ones connected with his party - Anakin and a little girl with bright red hair - went to him after one of the races, he petted them on the top of their heads before he knelt down to speak with them.

It was a good sign, a far better aspect of the man’s character than what Pav had seen at the previous Challenge Match which had descended into a ridiculous spectacle, a mockery of courtship.

Only a short time later, Padawan Kenobi had joined him and told Pav, without any hesitation, that his buir had died and he was waiting for his Jetii family to fetch him. He didn’t so much as hint that he was waiting for any Mando’ade, let alone Herna, to adopt him. From a quick observation, Padawan Kenobi didn’t appear to be in any distress. He looked tired, but he was cheerful enough and even relaxed enough that he’d fallen asleep before Doctor Gihan and Anakin had come for him.

Pav watched with no little amusement when the small boy - Anakin - got down on his hands and knees and appeared to be trying to see under the forge, apparently unconcerned by the heat the fire was giving out.

“I wanna see how it works,” the ad said. “Is it a cold-fuel engine or one of those Trilum Cycles? I couldn’t see. I never saw a Trilum Cycle but I heard they’re awesome. And I saw that you got a three-stage action prop! Wow!” He grinned broadly. “This is really neat and - hey! Obi! You’re awake!” He jumped to his feet and ran to Padawan Kenobi. “You missed me running. I lost, but I ran really fast. You gotta go back to the Fortress, ‘cause Doctor Gihan says you need a nap.”

Padawan Kenobi rubbed his eyes to wake himself and sat up. “I’m pretty sure I just had one.”

“Well, you need another if you’re going to fall asleep in the middle of all this noise.” Doctor Gihan stood up and looked sternly down at Padawan Kenobi. “We made a deal, didn’t we? You could come out today, but you go back when I tell you.”

“Of course, sir,” Padawan Kenobi said. “And quite right. I’ll be falling asleep in the public fountain at this rate and that won’t do.”

The two ade laughed together while Doctor Gihan watched them with fond amusement. It was a wholesome sight and Pav didn’t get any hint at all that Obi-Wan was pining for a missing buir.

“He’s going back to his people at the Jedi Temple on Coruscant,” Doctor Gihan had said while Obi-Wan still slept.

“He doesn’t wish to stay here?” Pav had asked, as casually as he could. “He doesn’t wish for a buir? I am surprised no one has offered to adopt him.”

“Oh, Alor Mereel would take the boys in a moment, but they both have family elsewhere.”

Little Anakin, who had come to the Smithy with Doctor Gihan, said, “That’s right. Obi told me all about his family. Master Windu’s grumpy. Master Koon’s super nice and the best person ever. And my Obi’s got a brother named Vos and he gets into trouble a lot and a lot of times they get in trouble together, but only for fun. And Obi gets to have my mom, too! Since he shares everything with me, I’m gonna share my mom with him and he can have a nice mom.”

What they said did not match up with what Herna had said. She had said that she had a foundling waiting for her, implying that the foundling had accepted her offer of adoption.

Herna had lied.

Of course, it was entirely possible that Padawan Kenobi was not the foundling that Herna was looking for, but given that Pav had seen recorded video evidence of her watching Padawan Kenobi since Naboo and that he strongly believed it had been her bomb that had destroyed the Jetii ship, he was inclined to believe that her target was Padawan Kenobi.

Pav felt a little flutter of anger and grief - he had known Herna for years, since they’d both been very young and he had trusted her. What was the purpose of the lie? Padawan Kenobi clearly wasn’t waiting for her, his own words along with those of Anakin and Doctor Gihan testified to that. He could only deduct that Herna had lied to him with the intention of stealing an ad from a loving family.

It would take much penance to be forgiven for the crime of kidnapping an ad and he wondered if Herna were capable of feeling the necessary remorse to be cleansed of such a sin. There was no help for it - he would have to find her before she was able to commit the sin.

Obi-Wan-

“If you please,” the Goran said when Obi-Wan stood to leave the Smithy. He turned to look at the Goran, but the Goran was speaking to Doctor Gihan. “I believe you are a confidant of Alor Mereel?”

“I am.” Doctor Gihan replied.

“Then, I will ask you to give him a message. Tell him that I will meet with him before his Challenge Match tonight. There is a person we must discuss.”

The Goran went silent and turned back to his forge where he raised his hammer and set back to work.

When it became apparent that he had nothing more to say, Doctor Gihan agreed to pass on the message and led the way out of the Smithy.

Obi-Wan made sure to say farewell to the Goran, though the man was obviously intent on his work and didn’t seem to hear Obi-Wan’s words, before he, holding Anakin’s hand, followed Doctor Gihan back onto the busy boulevard.

They were approaching where Jaster, Jango, and Satine were watching as Bo-Katan took part in what looked like a knife throwing contest. Jaster watched Bo-Katan play, but while he would smile the minute she looked at him or when anyone in the crowd would speak to him, when no one else was watching, his face settled into a concerned frown. He met Obi-Wan’s eyes as they were nearly halfway to him and Obi-Wan realized that he had failed. Jaster hadn’t been at all distracted and was still worried for Obi-Wan. Well... at least it was soon to be over. Sometime during the coming night the Solstice Storm was due to end and Masters Windu and Koon would arrive with the antidote and all would be well.

Anakin suddenly squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand. “Obi?”

“Yes?”

“Something’s wrong.” Anakin’s hand tugged on Obi-Wan’s.

“What?”

“Something’s wrong. Something’s really wrong. I got a bad feeling.”

Obi-Wan felt a stab of alarm. ‘Bad feelings’ were something that every Jedi learned to heed. He reached out to Doctor Gihan, who walked slightly ahead of Obi-Wan and Anakin. “Sir, wait a moment -”

It happened that they were passing the stall of a merchant selling fireworks when it all suddenly went off. Obi-Wan didn’t see what had happened, but the air was suddenly filled with an almost deafening ‘crack’ and then smaller ‘snaps’ and a long, drawn-out sort of high whining sound as every firework in the merchant’s stall was set off. The fireworks launched themselves into the crowd of people and there was chaos as people ran here and there, some took flight, to get out of the way of the colorfully sparking missiles. There was such a rush of people that Obi-Wan instantly lost sight of Jaster, Jango, and Satine.

“Ani, get down!” Obi-Wan tried to grab hold of Anakin and pull him to the relative safety of the ground.

Anakin stood, still as a statue at the first terrible crack of the fireworks, his mouth hanging open in horror, and when the fireworks began to fly, Anakin tugged his hand away from Obi-Wan. When Obi-Wan tried to grab Anakin, Anakin let out a screech, turned, and bolted into the rushing crowd.

Doctor Gihan snapped at Obi-Wan, “Get down and get to Jaster! Keep safe!” Then he ran after Anakin and he, too, disappeared.

The crowd ran around Obi-Wan where he stood, even as the fireworks kept going off. The smell of something burning filled the air along with grey smoke and noise. Obi-Wan started to get down, but someone behind him clamped a heavy, gloved hand over his mouth. Another hand grabbed him by the upper arm and yanked him backwards so hard and quick that he dropped his walking stick. In the blink of an eye, Obi-Wan found himself in an alley between two large buildings with an unknown Mandalorian.

“Umm... hello.” He was quite pleased with how calm he sounded, but the need to find Anakin, to see that he was safe and unhurt was nearly crushing.

The Mandalorian stared at him.

“Can I help you? Because if not, then I really should be on my way.”

The Mandalorian didn’t answer.

Obi-Wan was acutely aware of how isolated he was. He could hear the Festival a short distance away and he knew the others would be looking for him, but it seemed as if he and the Mandalorian and the shadowy alley they were in were entirely cut off from the rest of the galaxy and if he weren’t terribly lucky, there would be no escape.

One step.

She took one step closer to Obi-Wan and he took a step backwards.

“You are in control of your emotions,” Master Qui-Gon had so often said. “They do not control you. Think. Reason. Do not react without control.”

Obi-Wan steeled himself and pushed the fear away.

“Please,” Obi-Wan said, trying to harden his voice in the way Master Tholme had been teaching him. “Tell me what you need. Perhaps I can help.”

When the Mandalorian took another step closer, Obi-Wan, again, stepped back. He did not want them to get too close. Two more steps backwards and he felt one of the alley’s walls against his back. He had nowhere else to go and, without the walking stick, he wasn’t even sure he could run if he was given the opening. The Mandalorian was so close, close enough that Obi-Wan could see his face reflected in the black visor of their helmet.

The Mandalorian put their hands on Obi-Wan’s face, holding him.

“I’ve missed you, my boy. It’s been so long.” The Mandalorian was a woman, judging by her voice.

“Please,” Obi-Wan said, trying to twist his head to avoid her touch. “I think you may be a little confused. I’m sure we’ve never met.”

The woman’s hands followed the movement of his head, as if she were desperate to keep a hold of him. One of her hands on his face slid upwards, creeping into his hair.

Obi-Wan reached up to stop her, to push her unwanted touch away, but she grabbed both of his wrists. With an easy move, she gathered both of his hands in one of hers and pinned his hands to his chest, which pushed him back against the wall. With his hands so close to his face, he couldn’t even use the shield bracelet Jaster had given him without risk of hurting himself. The Arkon Poisoning had made him weak enough that she was able to hold him securely and prevent him from moving. Her other hand went back to petting his hair.

Something inside Obi-Wan screamed. He tried so hard to keep Master Qui-Gon’s teachings in mind, to control himself and keep himself from panicking. “Ma’am, this is highly inappropriate. I really need to go find my friends. They’ll be worried for me.” When she didn’t even pause, didn’t acknowledge that he’d spoken, Obi-Wan raised his voice. “Alor Mereel will come for me!”

She kept petting him, like he was an animal.

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to yell, hoping that he might be heard above the noise of the festival, but his voice failed him when the stranger’s hand wrapped around his braid.

His braid.

HIS BRAID!

She touched his braid!

Obi-Wan froze. The very blood in his veins seemed to turn to ice.

“It’s alright,” the stranger told him. The hand on his braid tightened into a fist.

“Let me go!”

“You’re not a Jetii.” And she jerked her hand.

It was so fast... so sharp... it didn’t even hurt for a minute. But his braid was in her hand. His long, skinny braid that Master Qui-Gon had always so gently braided for him. It was in her hand and not on Obi-Wan’s head.

Obi-Wan couldn’t breathe.

The Mandalorian woman released Obi-Wan’s hands and took a step away, his braid still clutched in her gloved hand.

The pain struck with shocking ferocity and he slapped a hand to the side of his head where his braid had been. He touched a warm wetness and knew he was bleeding. It flowed down the side of his face. His stomach churned and he wanted to vomit. Obi-Wan staggered a few pitiful steps away from her before he fell to his knees.

He couldn’t breathe.

His braid.

“You’re not a Jetii. Not anymore.” And she dropped his braid. She dropped it and it fell to the ground at her feet. It fell in the dirt. His braid was dirty... he was dirty. He wanted his Master and he wanted to go home!

And then there came, though the sound of his pain and the ringing in his ears and his gasping for breath, an enraged wordless scream. He turned his head enough to see little Bo-Katan, with her tiny wooden sword raised high over her head, standing at the entrance of the alley. Bo-Katan charged at the strange woman.

A movement in the corner of his eye drew Obi-Wan’s attention back to the stranger and he saw her reaching for her blaster.

As Bo-Katan reached Obi-Wan, he stopped her attack by grabbing her. He grabbed her with both hands, then swiftly pulled her to the ground with him where he bent over her enough to shield her with his own body. When she was secure and sitting on the ground in front of him, he raised his hand, the one bearing the shield bracelet from Jaster, over Bo-Katan’s head and snapped, “Shield, now!” The energy shield sprang to life and he kept the shield protectively over Bo-Katan. In the next instant, Master Qui-Gon’s lightsaber was in his hand.

“My boy,” the stranger said, her blaster in hand. “We only have a short time. I set off those fireworks to divert attention from us, but the distraction will only last a short time. We must get away. You must listen to me...”

She’d taken his braid. It could never be cut. She had dared to touch something so sacred, so private, and then she drawn her blaster on an innocent, helpless little youngling! Obi-Wan hissed at her, “You hurt this girl and we’ll see how well your beskar stands up to my Master’s blade!” He activated Master Qui-Gon’s lightsaber and the familiar ‘hum’ that all lightsabers made - the sound of warmth and love and safety and home - gave him courage.

To Be Continued...

A/N: I love cliffhangers.

Ad- child
Ade - children
Buir - parent
Yaim be bajur - school
Goran - armorer
Jetii - Jedi
Jetii’ad - a Jedi child
Alor - a title of respect and authority. Sort of like ‘my lord’.
bes’bev - a Mandalorian flute that is also a weapon
Tooka - an animal sort of like a cat
Striil - an intelligent Mandalorian pet
Mando’a - Mandalorian language
Mand’alor - leader of the Mandalorian Empire
Mando’ade -Mandalorians
Armorweave - a type of cloth that can be used as armor.

WARNING: SPOILERS!: This warning is for touching without consent and a traumatizing attack. Someone touches Obi-Wan’s braid without his permission. While I realize that pretty much everyone in the audience might think this is a silly warning, in this story, such an action is an extremely serious violation against a Jedi Padawan, as serious as any attack, and the Jedi take it very, very seriously. Obi-Wan’s braid is also torn off, furthering the trauma.

To say that Grandmaster Dooku isn’t going to be happy when he is reunited with his grandpadawan is a vast understatement.

Chapter Text

Chapter 42: A Hero

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
Earlier-
Bo-Katan-

Bo-Katan was have a great day. She got to have a leave trip from the yaim be bajur and, even better, she wasn’t chaperoned by Teacher Frewn. She liked Teacher Frewen very much, Teacher Frewn was wonderful and the scariest person Bo-Katan knew, but everyone else at the yaim be bajur had gone to the Festival of Stars with their families. Even the people who boarded there, the people who weren’t ‘really’ Mandalorian, yet, had their sponsors come for them and take them out for the day. No one ever came for Bo-Katan. The only time she got to leave the yaim be bajur was with Teacher Frewn or, on rare special occasions, she would be taken to the Fortress to spend time with Satine.

This time, Teacher Frewn had taken her to the Festival of Stars, but had surprised her by bringing her right to Satine, so Bo-Katan got to spend the whole day with Satine! It was the best day ever!

Alor Mereel gave her a sword and snacks and Satine cheered for her when she ran in a race. When she was tired of running, she looked around and saw that Anakin and his brother and Doctor Gihan had gone across to the other side of the Boulevard and were at a Smithy.

She tugged on Satine’s arm. “Ori’vod, I want to go see Anakin. Can I go to the Smithy?”

Satine had looked across the way to where Bo-Katan pointed at Anakin. “I think he’ll be back in a minute. Look, they’re coming, now.”

“Then I can go meet them. Come on... please?”

“Alright. But make sure you stay with Doctor Gihan. I don’t want you getting lost out here.”

“I can’t get lost, remember?” Bo-Katan dutifully held up her right hand to show off the bracelet Teacher Frewn had given her. It fit tightly around her wrist and had a white circle on it. Satine wore a matching bracelet.

“Alright. Remember - go straight to Doctor Gihan and be good.”

“I’m always good.” And she was. Except maybe the times when she gets really angry or the times when it seemed like a very good idea to drop paint balloons onto people visiting the yaim be bajur or when she just doesn’t want to do her course work or when... she’s at least mostly good. So she turned and started happily skipping over to where she could see Doctor Gihan walking closer with Anakin and Obi-Wan Kenobi just behind him.

She wasn’t sure what to call Obi-Wan Kenobi. Satine called him ‘Obi-Wan’ and so did Anakin, but everyone else called him ‘Kenobi’. She’d probably call him ‘Obi-Wan’ because that was what Satine called him and Satine was always right about everything.

But then there were fireworks and a lot of noise and people were running all over the place and, before she knew it, she watched Anakin run away and Doctor Gihan follow him. Obi-Wan was left alone in the middle of the Boulevard. Then someone grabbed him and put a hand over his mouth and pulled him away. Well, there was no way that Bo-Katan was going to stand for that sort of thing! She took off after where she’d seen them go and ended up at the mouth of an alley where she peeked around the corner and watched.

It was... weird.

Obi-Wan tried to get away from the stranger. Bo-Katan could tell he didn’t like the stranger, but the stranger got real close to Obi-Wan and started to pet his hair. Bo-Katan got an ugly, bad feeling in her belly when she watched. She looked over her shoulder, but she couldn’t see Satine. So, it was up to Bo-Katan.

With her new sword in hand and feeling very brave because she was a warrior and she was going to protect Satine’s friend, Bo-Katan got ready to charge. She stopped abruptly when the stranger grabbed Obi-Wan’s braid and yanked. Bo-Katan saw blood. Obi-Wan staggered away from the stranger, then fell to the ground.

What a horrible thing to do - Obi-Wan was sick! Everyone was talking about the poor sick little Jetii’ad! He couldn’t even walk much without a walking stick and Bo-Katan had seen Satine holding his arm to help steady him! He was sick and that awful person had attacked him. That coward!

She raced down the alley to help, but Obi-Wan, who clearly didn’t realize he needed to be rescued by a hero, grabbed her and pulled her in close, like he was giving her a hug. But instead of a real hug, he’d put a dumb energy shield over her - like she had to be protected or something! - then brought out his sword.

It was awesome!

She had never seen a jetii’kad before, but Obi-wan had put one right in front of her, practically inches in front of her face and she could even hear it making a funny sort of humming noise. He said that if the strange woman hurt Bo-Katan, then he’d fight her.

Bo-Katan held up her wrist and made sure the stranger could see her. With her other hand hovering over the white circle on the bracelet, she did her very best to growl, “My Satine’s gonna kick your shebs!” And she slapped her hand down on the circle.

The bad person, obviously recognizing what the bracelet was, said a naughty word that would make Teacher Frewn scowl with disapproval, then turned and ran.

“Coward!” Bo-Katan screamed after her.

Bo-Katan wanted to follow, because bad people had to be stopped, but Obi-Wan was still curled around her and his jetii’kad was still in front of her face. She wasn’t really sure what a jetii’kad did, but she figured it wasn’t safe to touch one, so she stayed still. She patted Obi-Wan’s arm. “Hey? Hey? Let me up. We gotta catch her.”

But Obi-Wan didn’t answer.

A glance over her shoulder made Bo-Katan stop trying to get up. Obi-Wan had blood all over the side his face. It was dripping onto his white shirt. “You’re hurt. Don’t worry. Satine will be here soon.”

And Obi-Wan’s eyes filled with tears. Bo-Katan didn’t know what to do. When she cried (which she didn’t do often, because she was a very mature eight-year-old... Teacher Frewn told her so) she got hugs, but she wasn’t sure if grown up people like Obi-Wan would want that sort of thing. So she patted his arm. “Don’t cry. She’s gone. Please don’t cry.” And it really would be great if he’d stop crying, because Bo-Katan didn’t know the right words to make him feel better and she was starting to want to cry, too. He really was bleeding a lot.

Elsewhere-
Earlier-
Jaster-

The fireworks were stopped. All was quiet for a moment before the cries went up of ‘Who’s hurt?!’, ‘What was all that?’, ‘Death Watch? Was it Death Watch?’, and ‘Anyone seen my buir?’

The Boulevard was a disaster. Thank all that was sacred that most everyone had been wearing armor and Jaster didn’t see a single ad injured. But the stalls that had been painstakingly set up for the festival had been damaged. The Boulevard had several large craters in it where fireworks had struck it. Jaster stood on the side of the Boulevard and Jango came back from where he’d been speaking to the owner of the fireworks stall.

“Some sort of accident,” Jango said. “He doesn’t know how it got started. I believe him. I don’t think he’d have done it deliberately.”

“Bo?” Satine looked around the street, her brow furrowed. She raised her voice a little when she called, “Bo-Katan?”

“I don’t see Ken’ika, An’ika, or Doctor Gihan, either,” Jaster said.

“Bo said she’d stay with Doctor Gihan,” Satine said.

Finding Doctor Gihan was a simple task. Jaster tapped the communicator on his vambrace and input the transmission code he knew by heart. “Doctor Gihan? What is your location?”

“I’m at the tanner’s shop, about five minute’s run west from our previous location. We’ll wait here for you.”

Naturally, they went straight there where they found, not a temporary stall such as the ones that had been set up for the festival, but a real shop made of stone. Outside the shop there was a long table that held examples of the different things the tanner could make. Doctor Gihan sat on the ground next to the table and as Jaster, Jango, and Satine got closer, they saw that Anakin was under the table.

Such a pitiful sight he made! Anakin had curled himself into a ball and rocked back and forth, his face pressed against his knees.

“He took fright when the fireworks went off,” Doctor Gihan said when Jaster got down on the ground with him. “Took off running like his heels were on fire!”

“I’m sorry,” Anakin whispered, still not raising up his face. “I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”

It came as no surprise at all to Jaster that Aranar couldn’t take the sad sight of Anakin and tried to wiggle its’ way under the table. Aranar couldn’t fit - it was far too big. In the end, it lay on the ground and put its head under the table and nudged Anakin with its’ muzzle.

It took a few nudges, but Anakin relaxed enough to put his arms around Aranar and give it a hug. Still leaning on it, Anakin finally looked up. His eyes were red, as if he’d wanted to cry, but had held them back, and his voice was hoarse. “It was really loud. Sounded like canons in battle.”

Doctor Gihan nodded. “You’re right. It was. Ready to come out, now?”

When Anakin had emerged from his hiding spot, Satine asked Doctor Gihan, “Excuse me, but where’s Bo-Katan?”

Doctor Gihan blinked at her. “What?”

“Bo. She wanted to play with Anakin, so I told her she could cross the Boulevard to meet you half-way. Then the fireworks went off and I lost sight of her. I thought she’d be with you.” Satine grew stiffer as she spoke and it was no wonder as Bo-Katan was clearly nowhere to be seen.

“I haven’t seen her.” Doctor Gihan looked back at their little group then said to Jaster, “What about Kenobi? I told him to go to you when Anakin ran.”

“We haven’t seen him.” Jango cursed.

Honestly, the day had started out so nicely.

He couldn’t say that it had been a wonderful day as Kenobi’s lingering illness and potential death hung over Jaster’s head like an ax, but it had been good. The little ones had been happy and laughing. Kenobi was getting some fresh air and exercise. Satine had armor - a basic form of armor, but it was better than nothing. And Jango was happy because he’d finally found an appropriate gift for Satine. The happy morning had been marred by the very sad news that there was, apparently, a poor young girl who had been forced into the role of a queen. What was it with people trying to make innocent little ade into political leaders? First Satine and now this other girl - Padme? No help for it - Jaster would have to make a trip to Naboo to see that the girl was alright. The poor little dear. Kenobi had said that she had no parents, or least there were no parents taking an active interest in her. Only fourteen years old and on her own, put into a position of such stress and danger... he couldn’t allow that situation to go on unchecked.

The morning had been going pretty well before the fireworks and he was suddenly missing two ade and found out that Anakin almost definitely had Battle Stress.

“We’ll split up to look for them,” Jaster started to say.

It was just at that moment when a bracelet that Satine wore on her left wrist began to emit a ‘beep’ sort of noise every few seconds. A white circle on the bracelet began to flash.

“What’s that?” Jango asked.

“A locator,” Satine raised the bracelet up a little. “Teacher Frewn gave it to me. Bo has the matching bracelet. If she presses the circle on her bracelet, mine gives me an alert to let me know something’s wrong.” She began to turn in a slow circle. “It will also lead me to Bo, if I get it pointed in the right direction.” She stopped moving when the white, flashing circle on her wrist suddenly began to flash much more rapidly. “She’s this way! Come along!” And she started running.

They followed Satine, but she froze at the mouth of an alley and her hand rose up to cover her mouth in horror.

Jaster joined her there and stared.

The jetii’kad cast a green light on the alley. Kenobi was on the ground, holding Bo-Katan close to him with the shield Jaster had given him securely over Bo-Katan’s head.

“Satine!” Bo-Katan called out. “The bad lady ran away, but your friend is hurt!”

It was enough to get them moving, all but Jango who swung the rifle off his back and stood guard at the mouth of the alley to prevent anyone from intruding. And when they got close enough to see what had happened, Jaster nearly lost his professional calm. He motioned for Doctor Gihan to keep Anakin away. Satine sat in front of Kenobi, but he didn’t look at her.

“Obi-Wan? You need to turn off the lightsaber.”

He did nothing.

“Can you hear me? You need to turn it off so Bo-Katan can get up. You don’t want her to get hurt, do you?”

Aranar whined from where it stood with Jango, then it galloped closer. Without any apparent hesitation or fear of the jetii’kad, it went straight to Kenobi. It leaned against his side, then lay on the ground, curled up around him. It licked at his hand holding the jetii’kad.

Slowly, Kenobi raised his eyes. Without a word, he turned off his jetii’kad and Satine gently pulled Bo-Katan away from Kenobi. “Are you alright?” She asked Bo-Katan. “Did you get hurt. There’s blood on your tunic!”

“It’s not mine,” Bo-Katan told her, even as she happily let Satine hug her. “It’s his,” she pointed at Obi-Wan. “That bad lady really hurt him. She pulled out his hair! I hit the alarm,” She proudly held up the bracelet she wore. “I hit my alarm and she ran away. She’s a coward! And he’s sick.” She looked at Kenobi - still worryingly quiet and on the ground. “So she attacked a sick guy, but ran away when she thought more people would come!”

A slight movement from Kenobi made Jaster focus on him. Kenobi lowered the energy shield and muttered, “Shield, deactivate”. The energy shield vanished. Kenobi did nothing else.

Satine took Bo-Katan’s hand, then went to Anakin. His eyes were wide and his mouth hung open. He looked horrified at the state they found Kenobi in.

“Anakin?” Satine bent down low to look Anakin the eyes. “I know this is really hard and really scary, but you and I are going to have to be tough. Right now, you need to wait with Jango.” She pointed to the entrance of the alley where Jango waited. “Obi-Wan will be alright - I’m sure of it - but he needs some quiet for a bit, so you can help by helping Jango keep people away. Okay?”

Anakin was... not happy. Anakin was shaking and the look on his face... his blue eyes were wide with fury and his lips curled back from his teeth. No ad should ever look like that. Hate. Hate and grief and fear. He looked like he wanted to hurt someone.

Jaster empathized. Seeing Kenobi so wounded made him wanted to hurt someone, too.

It took a moment, but Anakin looked back at Satine and silently nodded. Satine walked Anakin and Bo-Katan back to Jango.

“Kenobi?” Jaster asked. He knelt in front of Obi-Wan. The bleeding had stopped, thankfully. “Lad? Can you hear me?”

Hesitantly, Obi-Wan raised a hand and touched his hair where his braid had hung. He was pale and trembling. “My... my braid...?” He shuddered, as if he were cold. He looked at Jaster with eyes that were glassy from unshed tears. “I want to go home.”

“You will. They’re coming - I promise.” Jaster asked, “What happened? Who did this?”

When Kenobi didn’t answer, Satine sat next to Jaster on the ground and asked, “Obi-Wan. Dear. Do you want to put your hood up?”

A slight nod was all the answer they got. When Kenobi didn’t move to raise the hood of his robe, Satine carefully reached around him and pulled it up to cover his head.

“There it’s done. No one can see.”

Jaster felt a surge of stunned outrage, but not directed at Satine or Kenobi or anything he could point his finger at. Just a boiling uproar inside him that objected to hiding Kenobi’s wound. Did Kenobi think he needed to hide what had been done to him? That he bore some sort of shame for being attacked? Jaster wanted so badly to tell Kenobi there was no need, that he could show his wound to all the world and no Mandalorian would blame him for what had been done to him. He kept his mouth shut. There was something going on that he didn’t quite understand, something that had made Kenobi go so disturbingly quiet and still. Jaster had seen similar reactions from people in his long life, but those reactions had never had anything to do with missing hair.

“Obi-Wan,” Satine said, her voice soft. “I think Doctor Gihan should take a look at your wound. No one will look. We’ll all turn our backs.”

Kenobi closed his eyes for a moment, then straightened his back. When he spoke again, his voice was steadier. “No need for that. How embarrassing - sitting here, making such a scene. It’s only hair, after all.”

It WAS only hair. Jaster wanted to understand, he wanted to help fight away the hurt that was so clear in Kenobi’s eyes, but he did not understand. Still, he had to ask himself, did it matter whether he understood or not? No. No, it did not. He stood and stepped a good distance away with Satine while Doctor Gihan got to work. Doctor Gihan was as gentle as he ever was, speaking softly to Kenobi as he took a small tube of bacta from a pouch on his belt and spread it over the injury.

Jaster and Satine turned away, so they didn't see anymore. “We talked a lot, you know,” Satine whispered to Jaster. “That year when we were on the run together. It sounds so adventurous, and there was a lot of danger, but there were great long stretches of boredom, too. So we talked. I learned quite a bit about his people.”

“And this? His attacker ripped off his hair. What do you make of it.”

“It’s not just his hair. He would have laughed off someone pulling his regular hair out. They tore off his braid. It’s different. He didn’t talk much about it - it’s private. Very private. Imagine the worst possible thing that someone could do an ad. That’s what his attacker did to him. And I don’t know how to help him. I don’t even know if we can help him. He needs his people.”

“In a few hours they will be here.” As soon as Doctor Gihan finished his work and had bandaged Kenobi, Jaster went back to talk to Kenobi. He sat on the ground with him. “Can you tell me what happened? Bo-Katan said a woman hurt you.”

Slowly, Kenobi nodded. “I don’t know who she was. She didn’t say much. She just... she touched my hair and... and...” He made a vague gesture over his shoulder and Jaster looked. There, laying on the ground, was Kenobi’s braid. Kenobi tried to look around Jaster. “Is Bo-Katan alright? Where’s Anakin?”

“The little ones are both fine; they’re with Jango. Is there anything else you can tell me about your attacker? Anything that might help us find her? Maybe a distinguishing feature or maybe she mentioned her name?”

“Nothing. I’m sorry. She hardly spoke and she never took off her helmet, so I didn’t actually see her face. I think she knew me, though.” He raised a hand up to the bandage Doctor Gihan had put over the wound left from his hair being torn out. “Why? I don’t know why she did it. She said I wasn’t a Jedi and she took my braid, but... it doesn’t work like that. I suppose she didn’t understand. That must be it. She spoke as if she was doing something kind for me, so maybe she thought she was helping. Maybe.” The longer Kenobi spoke, the more confidant he sounded that his attacker hadn’t really meant to hurt him and Jaster didn’t like it.

“Kenobi, it’s alright to be angry.” Because that seemed like a natural reaction to such an uncalled for attack.

Kenobi straightened his back a little more. “I am a Jedi. I control my emotions, they do not control me. Anger will serve no purpose. The deed is done and I will heal. It was only hair.” His voice wobbled a bit on that last phrase, but Jaster was kind enough not to mention it.

Jaster suddenly wondered exactly how he was to tell the soon to be arriving Jetii rescue party that he had entirely failed to protect the innocent, defenseless little Jetii’ad.

A friendly union between Mandalore and the Jetii seemed less likely than ever.

“It’s not a big deal,” Kenobi continued. He rubbed his eyes. “It was probably going to be cut when I returned to the Temple, anyway.”

Jaster grimly watched as Kenobi pulled himself together and lied. It WAS a big deal. Kenobi had been calm when he’d woken on the Bral in a roomful of armed strangers, calm when he’d been told that it would be weeks before he could go home, and calm when he’d spoken of how he was responsible for a child after the death of his buir. To see him so shaken at the loss of a few strands of hair, his eyes shining with tears... the attack WAS a big deal.

But Jaster couldn’t bring himself to argue. Not in that alley where it had all happened, not when Kenobi looked like he was holding himself together by a thread. Jaster nodded and stood. “Right then. I think it’s time to go back to the Fortress.”

Before they left the alley, Kenobi picked up his braid. He hesitated to touch it, at first. In fact, it almost seemed painful for him to even look at it. But he did pick it up and tuck it quickly into an inner pocket in his robe.

There were no further incidents as they returned to the Fortress. Both Jaster and Satine used Jaster’s communication system on his vambrace to make announcements about the attack. They didn’t mention Kenobi, of course, only warned everyone that there had been an attack on an ad and that everyone should be watchful.

The street where the fireworks had gone off had already been mostly set to rights when they passed though. Occasionally people would turn to watch the Jetii guests of Mandalore, but there was no more trouble. Kenobi kept his hood pulled up over his head, hiding his injury and Anakin kept right at Kenobi’s side while Doctor Gihan walked on Kenobi’s other side with a hand on the boy’s elbow to support him. Satine and Bo-Katan walked just behind Kenobi and Anakin. Jango had taken point, leading them through the city, while Jaster took the rear, to guard against anyone approaching. They all went straight to the infirmary where Bo-Katan was given a quick check before Teacher Frewen was called and she took Bo-Katan back to the yaim be bajur.

As Doctor Gihan checked Kenobi’s wound and applied another bandage, Jaster went to Jango, who stood at the door and appeared to be vibrating with agitation.

“I’ll fine her.”

Jaster shook his head. “No.”

“What?” The anger in Jango’s voice was expected and if he hadn’t been angry, Jaster would have worried.

“I said - ‘no’. You will not go out now and find the monster who did this. You are going to stay here and make sure they don’t creep into the Fortress. At this moment, we have done security checks on every resident and employee in the Fortress and they all came back clean. We only have to worry about strangers trying to get in.”

“I want to go find her NOW! The longer we wait, the longer she has to find somewhere to hide.”

“No.” Jaster looked over his shoulder at Kenobi and Anakin. They were too far off to hear what Jaster said. “The Solstice Storm will be over in mere hours. You need to make sure the Jetiise arrive here safely. I know Kenobi is hurt now and I know you want to find whoever did it and make them pay. I know you want them dead. It’s a natural, sensible reaction. But Kenobi is still dying. He MUST have that medicine and he is trusting you to bring his people here so he can get it.” He put a hand on the back of Jango’s head and pulled him close to tap their foreheads together. “He needs you.”

“I understand. I’ll stay here.” It sounded painful for Jango to say that. “And after I’ve brought the other Jetiise here, then I’ll go hunting.”

“That’s my good lad.” Jaster released Jango’s head. “I need to go to the Fighting Field for the final Challenge Match. I’m going alone this time. We don’t know if Kenobi’s attacker will try again or not. If she was with Death Watch, then she’ll be capable of anything. So I want you to stay here and keep them safe.”

“She wasn’t Death Watch.”

Jaster and Jango turned to find Kenobi standing a few feet behind them.

Kenobi said, “I know what Death Watch armor looks like and she wasn’t wearing it.”

“Then it was whoever blew up your ship,” Jango said. “I can’t believe there would be two attacks against you in just a few days if they weren’t related. You are not to leave the Fortress without an escort or have anything to do with people unknown to you without a chaperone. Understand, little brother?”

“It’s not his fault!” Anakin shouted. He wrapped his arms around himself, as if trying to keep himself from flying apart. “You can’t punish him when it wasn’t his fault! The bad person hurt him.”

Before either Jaster or Jango could say anything, Kenobi said, “They’re protecting me, not punishing me, Anakin. There’s nothing to be upset about.”

That only made Anakin angrier. He kept hugging himself, but dug into his arms with his fingers and his face went red with fury. “There’s everything to be upset about! She hurt you and your braid is private!”

Kenobi nodded, his whole focus on Anakin. “That’s right. I was hurt and she did something she never should have done. But Doctor Gihan has made the pain stop. I will heal and my hair will grow back. And we are not going to let that person dictate what we feel and what we do. Right?”

It must have been the calm, controlled way that Kenobi said it, but Anakin visibly calmed. He wasn’t happy, not by any stretch of the imagination, but he calmed and nodded. “Right.”

Hours later-

With the ade safely in the Fortress under Doctor Gihan and Jango’s watchful eyes, Jaster had gone to the Fighting Field. He found a bench on the side of the field and waited as many people began to arrive to watch the final match, the match that would decide the next Mand’alor.

He waited for only a few minutes before a Goran came to stand in front of him. It wasn’t a surprise and Jaster said, “Doctor Gihan told me you wanted to speak with me, Your Honor.”

The Goran sat next to Jaster on the bench, resting his long-handled tools on his lap. “I believe someone I know may be fixated on a Jetii’ad in your care.”

Jaster felt his heart begin to race. “What? Who? He’s already been attacked. If you know who did it, you must tell me!”

“No. Not yet. I have no proof that the person I suspect is the person who attacked the young Jetii’ad and I feel certain that there are other people about who would not hesitate to attack him, regardless of his age. It is possible that the person I suspect is innocent and I wouldn’t ruin them because of a mere suspicion.”

There was a moment of anger. Jaster wanted to know who the villain was who’d hurt Kenobi was, he wanted to find them and force them to face what they’d done and pay the price for deliberately hurting an ad. He wanted justice for Kenobi. He wanted to prevent such a monster from attacking any other ade. But, after a moment, the anger was dulled with logic. The Goran was right - there was no proof that the person the Goran knew had done anything to Kenobi and Jaster had no right to demand the Goran give up his friend without good evidence. If they punished the wrong person, then the actual guilty party would be able to escape to hurt more ade. And, he had to admit looking at the confidant posture of the Goran and hearing his steady voice, Jaster was reasonably sure he couldn’t force the Goran to speak.

The Goran said, “I wanted to warn you to keep guard over your Jetii’ad while I hunt. Will the Jetii’ad be able to identify his attacker if I bring my associate to him?”

“I believe so, just as long as your associate is wearing their armor. Kenobi - the Jetii’ad - said the woman who attacked him didn’t take her armor off.” Jaster looked around the seats surrounding the Fighting Field. It looked like every seat was filled. “Thank you for the warning. My own people will be searing for the attacker, but your help is appreciated. For now, I’ll have to asked that you excuse me. The Challenge Match is about to begin and my opponent should be here shortly.”

“He’s already here. I am your opponent.”

“You?”

“Of course. How can I allow a Mand’alor to govern my people without knowing their strengths and weaknesses?” The Goran stood up and gestured to the waiting Fighting Field. “Shall we begin?”

Suddenly, Jaster wasn’t at all confidant about his chances. He had never once considered that a Goran would challenge him, never once thought in his whole life he might stand against such an elite warrior. Jaster eyed the well-worn hammer and tongs the Goran carried. His heart pounded. Goran were a far step above all other Mandalorians - devoted heart and soul to the Resol’nare. There were few who would be arrogant enough to dare test their fighting skills against a Goran and fewer still who would survive such an attempt.

Jaster grinned and put his helmet on. “An unexpected delight, Your Honor. Let’s not wait.”

To Be Continued...

Ad- child
Ade - children
Goran - armorer
Resol’nare - the philosophy that Mandalorians live by
Jetii- Jedi
Jetii’ad - a Jedi child / padawan / initiate
Yaim be bajur - school
Ori’vod - elder sibling
Jetii’kad - Jedi sword / lightsaber
Shebs - a rude word. Bo-Katan better watch it or Jaster will wash her mouth out with soap.

Chapter Text

A/N: There will be no new chapter next week. Please look for a new chapter the week after next.

Chapter 43: Oya, Mand’alor!

The Infirmary-
Aranar-

In the Infirmary of the Fortress, Aranar paced restlessly around the main room. With all the pups safe and gathered in one place, it could finally start to calm down.

Aranar pick up Kal with its’ forepaws, then sat up on its’ haunches. It used its’ middle set of legs to pull open the pouch on its’ belly, then tucked Kal inside, despite Kal’s protests of,

“But I want to see! Let me see what’s going on, parent! Please. Let me help.”

The whimpering pleas were muffled considerably as soon as Kal was safely put back in Aranar’s pouch and it had absolutely no intention of allowing Kal out any time soon! First Pup Obi-Wan, the big red furred pup, and then the little one, Anakin, had run off when the loud fire-sparks had started making such awful noise, and the littlest red pup, the newest addition to Aranar’s rapidly growing pack - Bo-Katan - and also run off. What did these pups think they were about? In times of loud noises and other such things that frightened pups, they should TO adults, not AWAY FROM them! It was entirely inexcusable behavior!

But Aranar finally had all the pups together in the infirmary and it was nap time! The older male, Obi-Wan sometimes called Kenobi or Ken'ika or Obi - depending on who was speaking to him - had been delivered into one of the inconveniently tall beds in the infirmary where his wounded head was examined and re-bandaged. He was covered with blankets and told to stay put.

Aranar huffed, impatiently. It could hardly see him up on that wretchedly tall bed until it jumped up, let alone take care of him. ‘A nest!’ It insisted. ‘He needs to be in a nest!’ Aranar looked over to where Jaster, its’ oldest pup was apparently in just as much agitation as Aranar was. He, too, wandered the room, as if looking for something to keep himself occupied with. If he would sit for a minute, Aranar would give him a cuddle to settle him.

If only Pup Bo-Katan were with them, perhaps Aranar would be able to relax. Pup Bo-Katan had been sent off somewhere and it aggravated Aranar to no end. To bring a new pup around and then send them away? There was no chance of Aranar being able to take care of the new little one if she wasn’t around!

Aranar paced around Pup Jango, standing patiently by the door, then back to the younger ones. It had a nest of blankets set up in a corner of the room, but the Not-Striil people had foolishly decided that Pup Obi-Wan was to sleep on the bed, even if Aranar knew that a nest would be better. Pup Anakin was taken away by Pup Jaster and a person who was not part of Aranar’s pack, and that did nothing to help Aranar’s peace of mind because how was it supposed to discipline and protect the pups if they kept leaving? All of them needed a sound growling at and a long nap. That would teach them to stay close to the adults! Even little Kal knew to stick close to its parent!

When Aranar let out a whine, Jango petted its’ neck and said, “They’ll be back. Jaster and Doctor Kretkin need to talk to Anakin about something. They’ll be back soon.”

And they were.

Aranar immediately went to them to see that they were alright, but there seemed to be no danger. Pup Anakin went to Pup Obi-Wan’s bed and gravely told him, “They said you might die.”

Pup Obi-Wan had nodded and Pup Anakin climbed onto the bed to sit with him. “If you die, I’m going to cry.”

“Then I’ll try very hard not to. It’s only a few more hours - I promise.”

There was more talking that Aranar didn’t pay much attention to. Pup Jaster left, saying something about a Challenge Match. A short time after he had gone, Pup Satine - the eldest female of the pack - said,

“Jango, would you mind getting Anakin’s educational datapad from Jaster’s rooms? I don’t want him to get bored if we’ll be here for a while.”

“I’m not bored,” Pup Anakin said from where he sat with Pup Obi-Wan’s arm around him.

“But you might get bored.” Pup Satine said. “We may be here for hours and hours and hours. Jango?”

“Sure thing. It’s a good idea,” Pup Jango said, heading for the door of the infirmary. “I won’t be long.” As the door closed behind him, he called out, “Everyone, behave!”

It took a whole of two breaths before Pup Satine went to Pup Obi-Wan’s bedside and asked, “What can I do to help? Tell me. I’ll do anything.”

Pup Obi-Wan took her hand and squeeze it. “You can ‘not’ treat me like I’m about to fall to pieces. It was a shock, but I will survive.” He smiled at her. “And if you’re going to leave, this is the best chance you have.” At Pup Anakin’s curious look, Pup Obi-Wan said, “She wanted Jango to be distracted so she asked him to get your datapad. And now she’s going to follow Jaster to see his match.”

Pup Satine frowned and looked away. “I still can’t get any deception passed you. But I won’t go if you need me here. Not now. He’s going to win - he doesn’t need me. But you say the word and I’ll be stuck to your side like glue. You know I’ll have your back at any time.”

“Of course, I know that. And I’m fine. I will be fine. I understand that it’s important that you’re witnessed to be supporting Jaster at this match. It’s important for the Mandalorian Empire and the Mandalorian Empire affects the rest of the galaxy. So, go and be safe. Jaster won’t be happy to find you there.”

Pup Satine put on her cloak. “Well, at the moment I still outrank him, so he can like it or lump it.”

“Jango’s going to pitch a fit if he comes back here and you’re gone.”

“Then I suggest the two of you,” she playfully ruffled Pup Anakin’s hair. “Pretend to be asleep when he gets back so he won’t interrogate you.”

She slipped out of the room and Aranar nearly had a conniption. All its’ pups were wandering off, again! What disobedient, naughty pups! They were all going to be confined to the nest and made to take extra-long naps!

It couldn’t just leave to fetch Pup Satine back, because if it did, then Pup Anakin and Pup Obi-Wan would be left on their own and that wouldn’t do at all. It had to wait until Pup Jango returned with a datapad in hand before it could do anything because at the very least, it was sure that Pup Jango was sensible enough to take care of the other two.

Pup Jango took one look around the infirmary room and scowled. “Where’s Satine?”

Pup Obi-Wan and Pup Anakin took one look at each other, then promptly closed their eyes, went limp on the bed, and began to loudly snore.

Pup Jango stomped his foot. “Don’t you even try that, you little conspirators!”

Aranar slipped out and found Pup Satine when she was nearly at the Fighting Field.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Pup Satine asked, reaching down to pat Aranar’s head. “I don’t need a babysitter.”

Aranar gave her the most remarkably unimpressed look it could manage. Clearly, ALL the pups needed minders.

“You know,” Pup Satine said as they walked on. “This is the first time I’ve gone outside the Fortress alone in four years. Well... alone without another person anyway. This is quite the liberating experience, isn’t it? Let’s go find Jaster, shall we?”

Aranar was rather more inclined to grab Pup Satine by the scruff of the neck and drag her back to the other pups where it could keep a proper eye on them, but Not-Striil didn’t react well with being grabbed by the scruff and Aranar certainly didn’t want to hurt one of its’ newest pups, so it decided to simply stay with Pup Satine. At least they’re going to find Pup Jaster, who was sensible and could help corral the younger pups.

The Fighting Field-
Jaster-

Jaster was reasonably confident that, as he walked to the middle of the Fighting Field with the Goran, that he held the air of a serious man of confidence and competence. In his head, his mental state was closer to,

“I’m gonna fight a Goran! I’m gonna fight a Goran. Yay me!”

He was ecstatic. Never in his whole life had he ever considered that he might be lucky enough to fight a Goran. While it was a daunting challenge, he was almost giddy with the prospect of facing such a supreme warrior. It was such an honor!

The verd who was to officiate the match walked out to meet Jaster and the Goran in the center of the field.

“As the challenger, the right to choose weapons is your, Your Honor. What is your choice of weapons?” The verd asked, respectfully.

“All.”

“What?”

“All. In a war, there will be no polite agreements about what weapons may or may not be used. We will have a choice of all the available weapons. We may also change weapons at any time.” He turned to Jaster. “Take your choice.” He gestured to a large table set up at the side of the Fighting Field.

The weapons table, set there for the benefit of the combatants, was piled high with a great variety of weapons. There were swords, both long and short, thin and broad. There were maces, flails, nets, and spears. There were blasters of a wide range of power and styles along with several rifles. There were explosives and wooden clubs right alongside of a weapon that was a simple long chain with a spiked weight on each end. The choices went on and on.

Jaster picked up a mace. The metal handle was about as long as his forearm and the business end of the mace held a large, round head.

“Right, let’s get this started.” The verd official was different than the one who’d officiated the previous two matches. “Just like before - the first verd on their back for a count of ‘three’ loses. If you leave the boundary of the Fighting Field,” he gestured around to the tall poles that marked the four corners of the field. “You will not only lose, but you will be forever shamed as a coward. Your families won’t want to look at you ever again. Small children will point and laugh at you for the coward that you are every time they see you.”

As Jaster had no intention of running away from a fight, it seemed like an easy rule to remember.

The verd official continued, “I’d say that includes flying out of bounds, but as neither of you is wearing a jet pack, I guess that doesn’t matter. Oh, and don’t kill each other. I know this is an important match and you’re both going to get a little heated, but if you kill your opponent, I’m going to have to disqualify you and then we’ll probably go back to a civil war and nobody wants that. Next, there are no extra points for fighting fair. If you can find a way to fight dirty, go for it.”

Again, a sensible rule. Jaster would much rather have a Goran as a friend and occasional fight-buddy than to have him dead on the sands, anyway.

“And finally,” the official said, grinning wildly. “Don’t be nervous. There are thousands of Mando’ade here watching you. There are cameras set up to send a live broadcast to every corner of the Empire and, when the Solstice Storm ends, that broadcast will also be sent out to the rest of the galaxy. Trillions of people will be watching this fight - make it your finest moment. They will be watching because the next few minutes will decide the future of our people, of our culture. Everything, absolutely everything, is riding on this match.” His grin broadened in a worrisome way. “But don’t be nervous.”

Nervous? Jaster nearly laughed at the suggestion. He had been preparing himself for this moment for months, since he’d realized that the Empire needed a more experienced leader and that he could do the job. Jaster put on his helmet and, weapons in hand, readied himself for the battle that would, whether he won or lost, be glorious.

The official, putting on his own helmet, added, “And don’t think too much about the fame.”

Jaster froze. What?

“Because,” the official went on. “The winner will have to get used to that sort of thing. The leader of an Empire will need to give a great many interviews to go along with meetings with their fellow politicians and dignitaries from other governments. There will be speeches. There will be formal parties to attend. Small talk. Dinner engagements. I hope the both of you like being social because that’s going to be your life if you win this match.”

Jaster’s stomach clenched uncomfortably. Maybe this whole being Mand’alor thing wasn’t such a good idea, after all. He’d only decided to be Mand’alor because no one better had stepped up to do it, but a Goran would be an excellent choice to be Mand’alor. All Goran were well-known for wisdom and justice, so if Jaster gave up the Challenge at that moment and the Goran was made the next Mand’alor, it would work out nicely. He started to say to the official, “I’ve changed my-”

The official shouted, “And fight!”

The Goran charged and that was it. The match began.

To be perfectly honest, it was a brilliant fight. It was glorious and awe-inspiring and Jaster hadn’t had so much fun in ages! He was no match for the Goran, of course. He had realized within the first few minutes of the match that he was going to lose, but it was a fight that he could be proud to say he lost. Jaster really did believe that the Goran had him outclassed.

Still, Jaster fought on. It seemed disrespectful to quit after it had begun. As he fought, as the Goran pressed the attack with seemingly no hint of fatigue or injury, though Jaster knew he’d landed a few decent blows, the spectators went quiet. The cheering died to nothing as they watched the battle go on and on. Jaster felt himself weakening, growing tired and slow. He was definitely going to lose.

Jaster looked over and saw Satine watching from the front row. Aranar stood beside her. She looked worried. She needed him. It wasn’t just the Empire who needed a strong leader, but Satine needed to be allowed to be young, again. To go to the yaim be bajur and make friends and concentrate on lessons without the burden of leadership weighing her down. He looked at Aranar.

‘Well,’ he thought. ‘The Goran did say ANY weapon.’

Inside his helmet, Jaster increased the volume of his helmet’s sound output to its’ highest level. When the Goran moved in close for another attack, Jaster let out as loud of a yell as he could.

Like a physical force, his voice slammed into the Goran, nearly knock him down.

Jaster dodged quickly around the Goran and, in order to keep facing him, the Goran had to turn his back to where Satine and Aranar sat. The moment he did, Jaster let out a long, high-pitched whistle and pointed at the Goran.

From Satine’s side, Aranar surged onto the Fighting Field. It took one leap and all those wonderful wrinkles that covered it rippled, like a field of grass in a strong gust of wind. It took another leap and, when all six legs left the ground, it spread those six legs out. Its’ wrinkly skin stretched between its’ legs and turned into something like wings on either side of Aranar’s body. It flapped those wings once, then twice to gain speed. It was with them in a flash and tackled the Goran to the ground.

The Goran tried to get Aranar off him, but Aranar was nearly three hundred pounds of muscle and had multiple legs to keep itself stable. It tried to bite the Goran’s head, but, of course, couldn’t do any damage to beskar. The Goran tried to raise his blaster to Aranar, but Aranar was clever and knew what blasters were - it had been raised by Mandalorians, after all - and used its’ front legs to pin one of the Goran’s hands to the ground while it used its’ back legs to pin his other hand to the ground. The Goran struggled until Aranar decided to lay down, pressing its’ impressive bulk against the Goran’s chest and while the man’s beskar breastplate kept him from being crushed, he was very effectively pinned to the ground.

The official was there at once. He took only a cursory look at Jaster, still on his feet, if only barely, and then at the Goran. He loudly counted, One! Two! Three!” Then waved both hands over his head to get the attention of the crowd. “That’s a match! Winner: Jaster Mereel! As the lawfully named judge of this Challenge match, I name the Mand’alor as Jaster Mereel!”

Jaster lowered the audio output of his helmet before he called to Aranar, “Aranar, stop. To me.” As obedient and eager to please as ever, Aranar got off the Goran and went to stand in front of Jaster. Jaster tried to ignore his double vision and leaned over to pat Aranar. “Who’s the best striil in the whole galaxy?” He crooned. “You are! That’s right, you’re the best! Steak for dinner!”

Aranar-

Victoriously standing on the sands of battle, Aranar allowed the attentions of Pup Jaster, knowing that young ones so often needed reassurance after a time of fear. It was so proud of Pup Jaster for going into battle against such an enemy, proud of him for fighting so hard. It was even more proud of Pup Jaster for also having the sense to know when he was in trouble and when to ask for help. Aranar had flown to the rescue, as it would have done for any of its pups, and now stood ready to dispense the well-earned reward that Pup Jaster surely deserved.

It put its’ front legs on Jaster’s shoulders and nuzzled at Pup Jaster’s face, ‘Who’s my good little human? You are! That’s right, you’re the best little human, ever!”

Jaster-

As the spectators made their way onto the field to celebrate the win and a new leader, Jaster saw Satine, standing at the edge of the Fighting Field. She was not celebrating with the Mando’ade around her, but she smiled at Jaster in such a way that he wondered if she was about to cry. But she smiled. She smiled and bowed her head to him. When he got to her, shoving his way through the people around who wanted to congratulate him, he put a hand on her arm. “I thought I told you to wait in the infirmary?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did you? I seem to recall you telling Obi-Wan to stay in the infirmary, but not me. He’s the one who is being hunted.”

Jaster narrowed his eyes. He was going to have to remember to be very specific when speaking with Satine. Apparently, she took things literary. “I’m pretty sure you knew what I meant.”

“I knew that I had to be here for this moment, to finish what was started.” She put her fist to her chest in the traditional Mandalorian salute and bowed her head. “Oya, Mand’alor!”

The Goran, limping and covered in dust from the battle, but still bearing both his hammer and tongs, walked up to stand before Jaster. As was only proper, the people surrounding Jaster, parted before the Goran, giving him a clear and easy path to Jaster. The Goran stood straight and tall. Jaster could hear him panting for breath and it thrilled Jaster that he had been able to stand against such an opponent. The Goran, like Satine, put his fist to his chest and bowed his head and said, “Oya, Mand’alor.”

It was like a blessing. First Satine and then the Goran acknowledging him as Mandalore seemed to give a jolt of energy to everyone in attendance. All around, there was a sudden, almost deafening, wordless cheer and what seemed like a frenzied joy. Someone nearby to Jaster, mimicked Satine and the Goran with, “Oya, Mand’alor!” Then another person and another, until the thousands of people gathered together on the sands of the Fighting Field all shouted in unison, “Oya, Mand’alor!”

It was stunning to watch, to realize that so many of his people supported him and believed in him, believed that he would bring great fortune and a noble future for their people. Jaster stood there - in pain, and undoubtedly suffering blood loss and, very likely, a concussion - and felt that he might just cry. He had never felt so humbled or so powerful in his whole life. It was a beautiful feeling... it was terrifying.

All around, people took up the cry and it seemed the whole desert - the whole world - echoed with “Oya, Mand’alor!”

Jaster, who couldn’t stop the swell of pride in his people, to see them all joined in such a way, to see them unified after so many years of infighting, raised both fists over his head and shouted, “Oya, Mandalore!”

Tor Vizla-

He watched the match from behind a new visor. It was a convenient costume. With so many armored faces in the crowds to watch the Challenge Match, one more helmet went completely unnoticed - just as Tor had expected. He watched as Mereel fought the Goran. The match went on for an unusually long time and the audience was riveted, the cheering and talking dying into a watchful silence as it became clear that both combatants were fearsome fighters, neither of whom were willing to give up.

Tor watched.

He had not heard from Trion Lubek in a few days. Messages sent to Lubek’s private message system - which he’d assured Tor had such high-grade security that no one would be able to find it, let alone read any of the messages - had gone unanswered. When he’d finally had enough of waiting, because patience was not one of his finer qualities, he had gone to Keldabe in the armor of a verd who had, unfortunately, refused to join Death Watch.

It was a pity. The man would have made a fine addition to Death Watch, but he had been far too independent, too unwilling to do the dirty work needed to bring the Mandalorian people back to their glory days.

Lubek had been meant to keep control of Satine Kryze, to keep Keldabe weak until Tor gathered enough strength to attack and force the people to his will. It had been working very well. But Lubek had seemingly vanished and yet the Kryze girl sat there, down near the sands, in support of Mereel.

It was a sore spot in Tor’s plans. He had not taken into account that Kryze would very publicly throw all her support to Mereel and, thus, bring a strong leader into Keldabe, but it wasn’t the end of things. After all, while strong and skilled, Mereel was mortal and could die as easily as anyone. So Tor watched. He would likely kill Lubek the next time they met for failing so spectacularly, but at the moment, as he watched the two men battle for the title of Mand’alor, he wasn’t overly bothered with Lubek - a petty man who had only one use. That one use was gone with Kryze looking to Mereel for guidance.

Mereel won. He only barely won, but he did win the match.

The Empire had a new Mand’alor and the people cheered for him.

‘Soon, that will be me,’ Tor thought. ‘I will be Mand’alor and they will cheer for me... even if I have to force them to.”

Only when all was done and the crowds in the audience surged onto the Fighting Field to celebrate such a match, did Tor take a closer look at the Goran.

The Goran went to Mereel and saluted, showing his acknowledgment of Mereel as Mand’alor. With the support of the former ruler and a Goran, there was no one who would gainsay Mereel’s right to the title. But even as all that went on, even as the official announced that Mereel had won the match and, thus, won his title, even as all was made official, Tor stared at the Goran.

He knew that armor.

He focused the visuals in his stolen helmet on the Goran. He knew that black armor and the blue crescent on the Goran’s chest plate, he knew that hammer with the green, leather wrapped handle. He knew. He knew!

Tor’s hands tightened into fists on his knees. He felt a burning in his mind that spread like lava through his body until he felt engulfed by it.

“Traitor,” Tor thought.

Before he could do anything rash, and he was likely to if he stayed within sight of the Goran, Tor stood and ignited his jet pack. He took off and flew into the desert, knowing that anyone who might have seen him leave would have thought that he was nothing more than one of the many visitors who’d come to Keldabe for the festival or the Challenge Matches and was merely returning to whatever small village he’d come from.

‘The traitor.’

He remembered the last time he’d seen that Goran. As he remembered that time - the sanctimonious, arrogant words leveled at him - all thoughts of Mereel and plans he needed to make to remove Mereel from power, faded into nothing. Mereel was entirely unimportant.

‘Traitor!’ He let out a howl of rage and hate.

At the Edge of Mandalorian Space-
The Ship, Breeze-
Master Dooku-

While the others meditated, Dooku read the book Master Nu had sent. It wasn’t a long or complicated text, any more than any other writing was about a culture. There were chapters about Mandalorian food preferences, common trades, various spiritual beliefs, and social customs. It was a very interesting book, though Dooku would have preferred to have more information about the history of the Mandalorian society.

When he finished with the book, he looked at the chronometer in the cockpit. As near as they’d been able to calculate - because even something as regular as the Solstice Storm, was never exactly predictable - it should end in just a few hours.

He had no idea what he was going to say to any Mandalorians they encountered, but so long as the boys were alive and unharmed, he was sure they could all be suitably civilized and find an agreeable outcome to the situation.

Plo woke from his meditation, first. He ate and drank and when he was fully refreshed, Dooku gave him the book. “It was sent by Master Nu. She seems to think it is important and, after reading it, I happen to agree. It will occupy your time while we wait.”

Plo took the book. “Thank you. I’ll will.”

As Plo was reading, Mace woke and waited for his turn with the book. Very shortly before the Solstice Storm broke, Plo finished the book and handed it to Mace.

To Be Continued...

A/N: I only recently learned that striil can fly. I really wish I’d known that at the beginning of this story. Ah, well. I imagine that with all that wrinkly skin, they’re rather like flying squirrels that can actually fly instead of just glide. Also, in this story, they carry their young in pouches, like a Kangaroo. I have no reason for this, I just liked the idea.

Also, this story was supposed to focus on Obi-Wan and Anakin getting back to the Temple on their own. And then the Mandalorians showed up and suddenly this simple story got complicated. I’m gonna blame Jaster.

Chapter Text

Chapter 44: Anakin Skywalker, the Healer

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
The Fortress-
The Infirmary-
Anakin-

Jango stayed in the infirmary with them until Doctor Gihan came in and then he rushed out saying that he needed to keep an eye on Sissy Satine. Doctor Gihan sat at a desk on the opposite side of the room to do some work and Anakin and Obi-Wan were given a bit of privacy.

Everything was very quiet for a time. Anakin liked the quiet. He lay on the infirmary bed with Obi-Wan for a long time, thinking, holding the datapad Jango had brought for him earlier. Boss Jaster had said that Anakin could use it when he went to the yaim be bajur for lessons.

What was going to happen with that, now? Obi-Wan said his Jedi were almost there and they would take them both back to Obi-Wan’s Temple. If they really did take Anakin - and he wasn’t at all sure that was going to happen - then Anakin guessed he might have to wait until he was a real Jedi and didn’t have to go to Jedi school anymore before he was allowed to go to Mandalorian school. That was alright. He was sure Obi-Wan would teach him how to talk like a Mandalorian until then.

‘If he doesn’t die.”

Anakin closed his eyes and listened to Oib-Wan breathing.

He was alive.

He was still alive.

And he still thought that maybe the other Jedi wouldn’t want him, but that would have been the worst thing because if they didn’t want him then he would never get to see Obi-Wan again. They would definitely take Obi-Wan back to his Temple and Obi-Wan had already said he had to go back because he had to be a Jedi.

Anakin thought his heart might break at all the sad thoughts.

‘But he’ll be alive,’ Anakin told himself. “He’ll be alive because his Jedi are going to come here and they’ll save him, so I can’t hate them even if they take Obi away from me. They will save him.’

“You’re being very quiet.” Obi-Wan took Anakin’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Do you want to talk?”

“Why are you lying?”

“About what?”

Anakin had thought that Obi-Wan was very honest and that he would never lie, but he’d told Jango that at the Jedi Temple, he had lessons about how to lie. Anakin found that he wasn’t at all disappointed to find that Obi-Wan was a bit less than honest because, to him, that just meant Obi-Wan was so clever that he could fool lots of people with lies. Anakin knew lying could be very important if a person didn’t want to get a beating - or worse - from their master. But he didn’t much like Obi-Wan lying about being hurt.

Anakin said, “You keep telling everyone you’re alright, but you’re lying.” Anakin turned his head to look up at Obi-Wan. “I tried to keep my shields up, but it gets hard and I forgot when I saw that you were hurt. You’re not really okay... are you? Doctor Kretkin said you might die and that bad woman hurt your braid.”

“Well, it seemed a shame to worry everyone when there’s nothing to be done about it. What’s done, is done. Best to live in the moment, Master Qui-Gon would say.”

“Mom says you should talk about bad stuff. She said it makes things easier if you talk to people. You can talk to me.”

Obi-Wan smiled down at him. “This is something I would prefer not to talk about, my dear. I’m sorry if I haven’t been shielding myself well, but I was very... well... surprised by what she did. I’ll try to do better.”

He had been more than surprised. Anakin could still feel what Obi-Wan had felt and what he was trying to hide in his thoughts. Fear. Anger. Grief. Pain. So much pain.

Anakin wanted to kill the woman who’d hurt his Obi-Wan. That was bad. He was a good kid, he wasn’t supposed to want to kill people and he knew how awful it was to be the cause of someone’s death because he still couldn’t stop thinking about what he’d done at Naboo. But that bad woman had hurt Obi-Wan and it hadn’t been an accident. He was sure he’d heard Jango said that the same woman who’d torn off Obi-Wan’s braid was the same person who blew up Obi-Wan’s ship. What if she got lucky and she actually killed Obi-Wan?

Anakin asked, in a whisper, “Why didn’t you tell me you were a slave?”

Obi-Wan started a bit. “What?”

Anakin reached out and lightly brushed fingers against Obi-Wan’s throat and that pale scar that was so familiar to Anakin. “Mom has a collar scar,” Anakin said. “Lots of the grown-ups have them back home. Are you ashamed of it? Do Jedi think it’s bad?”

“No. I’m not ashamed... not really. But it was a long time ago - more than six years ago - I just don’t like thinking about it too much. And I didn’t tell you because you have your own troubles to think about so I didn’t think there was any reason to add more.”

“Oh. Okay. Would Master Jinn be mad that the woman touched your braid?”

“He wouldn’t be mad at me, but he would be upset that it had happened to me.”

“I’m mad about that, too.” He didn’t tell Obi-Wan that he wanted to hurt the woman who’d hurt him. He had a feeling it would only upset Obi-Wan.

“Being a Jedi is all about control. We control our emotions and ourselves. So, we can be mad, but we can’t let that emotion control the decisions we make. Do you understand?”

Anakin admitted, “I don’t understand much about the Force. It’s all kinda weird.”

Obi-Wan grinned. “There are Jedi scholars and philosophers who have been studying the Force for decades and some of them sort of shrug and say that the Force is just weird. Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll understand better when you start your lessons at the Temple and the Force will guide you, if you let it.”

“The Force can do a lot, can’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Can the Force heal?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, your Jedi are coming to save you. Are they going to use the Force to make you better?”

“They’ll bring an antidote to the poison that’s making me sick. But, the Force can help to heal.”

“Good. Right.” Mind made up, Anakin got onto his knees, then shifted around on the bed until he sat on Obi-Wan’s legs. He frowned and concentrated so hard that he felt his whole body tense up, staring straight into Obi-Wan’s eyes.

Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s shoulder. “Are you alright? Your face is turning red.”

Anakin raised a hand with his palm facing Obi-Wan.

“Anakin, what are you -”

Anakin struck out, smacking Obi-Wan on the forehead and shouted, “Be healed!”

With a cry of surprise, Obi-Wan fell backwards, whacking his head on the wall behind his bed. He let out a brief - entirely dignified - whimper. “Anakin...”

But Anakin grabbed Obi-Wan’s face with both hands and leaned close enough that they were almost nose-to-nose. “Are you better now?”

“What? No. Now, I’ve got a headache.”

With a pout and a regretful sigh, Anakin reached out and tenderly rubbed Obi-Wan’s forehead where he’d just smacked. “Sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m sorry.”

“What were you trying to do?”

“Heal you. Master Jinn said, ‘With the Force, all things are possible.’ And you said the Force can heal. So I thought maybe I could save you. Or... or at least make it so you’re not so unhappy.” Anakin felt his eyes burn and he sniffed to help fight off the tears. “I promised I’d protect you and you keep getting hurt. I must be a terrible brother.”

“You are a wonderful brother and it was a kind thought, but the Force doesn’t work that way.”

“Well, it should!”

“It takes years of study and practice to learn how to heal with the Force and only experts even try it.”

Anakin’s pout darkened. “Master Jinn said I was the Chosen One. What good is being a Chosen One if I can’t save people?”

“Even the Chosen One needs to crawl before he can walk, walk before he can run, and run before he can heal sick Padawans. Speaking of Master Qui-Gon, I think I’d like to see him. Would you like to come with me?” Obi-Wan gestured to the door on the far side of the room where Master Jinn’s stasis pod was being kept. “I should give him my braid.”

The Fighting Fields-
Jango-

When Doctor Gihan was able to focus entirely on Kenobi and Anakin, ensuring that they would be safe from the mysterious and hated attacker, Jango left the infirmary to go after Satine. She was going to get an earful for running off like that!

Jango made it to the Fighting Field at the very moment that the Challenge Match ended and Jaster was, without any doubt, declared the Mand’alor of the Mandalorian Empire. For a bit, Jango watched for the perimeter of the Fighting Field. He was a bit surprised to spot Jaster’s opponent and recognize him as the Goran he and Satine had spoken with just a short time previously. Jaster stayed at the Fighting Field for a whole of five minutes to celebrate the win and accept the congratulations of the people who were so happy to have him as their Mand’alor. After that, he’d discretely slipped away.

Jaster had raised both hands over his head and bellowed, “I have to go now! Everyone have fun!” As he left the area, he saw a few people he knew and stopped to talk to them and give them a hug before he continued on his way.

And that was Jaster’s version of ‘discretely slipping away’.

Even at a distance, it was clear that Jaster was wounded. He had come out of battles looking less injured.

Jango met Jaster and Satine at the edge of the Fighting Field. Satine had been trying to help Jaster walk by having her arm wrapped around him and his arm resting over her shoulders, but as he outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds of muscle and was about a head taller than she was, she was having a bit of a hard time. If Jaster went down, he was going to drag Satine to the ground with him. So the minute he caught up with them, Jango went to Jaster’s free side and took Jaster’s weight while Satine did her best to help by holding Jaster’s arm. More than likely, her help didn’t do much to actually help, but Jango wasn’t about to insult her by saying anything and Jaster looked pleased that she wanted to help.

As they went through Keldabe to the Fortress, with Aranar looking strangely proud of itself while it walked beside them, Jaster told Jango and Satine about the conversation he’d had with the Goran before the match and that the Goran might know who’d attacked Kenobi. It was the best lead they had on the attacker.

“This kind of smarts,” Jaster admitted with a wince as he took a step after they’d entered the Fortress.

“What did you expect?” Jango asked. “You fought a Goran.”

Satine asked Jango, “How’s Obi-Wan? He said he was alright, but he lies like rug.”

Jango tried very hard to rein in his temper as his thoughts were turned back to his poor little brother. It wasn’t easy. He didn’t understand what it meant for a Jedi to have their braid taken away, but there was so little information about Jedi that it was really no fault of his. If he didn’t know, then Jaster surely had no idea. Even Satine, who may as well have been a Republic citizen considering she’d spent the majority of her life there, didn’t understand. But from the reaction he’d had - the shaking and terrible dazed look in his eyes - it was important.

Jaster gave Satine what might have been meant to be a reassuring smile but, considering the blood seeping from his bottom lip, came off as more of a gory grimace. “We’re going to do everything we can for him and Jango’s going to get his people. They’ll know what to do.”

Jaster had gotten off very easy in the previous two matches, but one couldn’t expect a Goran to go easy on anyone, certainly not someone who thought themselves good enough to claim the title of Mand’alor. So, Jaster was hurt. There was blood, but not so much that it was worrisome. He was lame, but the injured leg didn’t appear to be actually broken, so, again, not terribly worrisome. Even as they walked, there were a great many bruises that were darkening into respectable purples and blacks and blues. Even considering that, Jango wasn’t sure Jaster would have bothered to go pay Doctor Gihan a visit if they hadn’t left Kenobi and Anakin in the infirmary.

When they arrived at the infirmary, the first thing Jango noticed was the quiet. He then saw Doctor Gihan standing at the door of the little room where Kenobi’s Master was being kept. Doctor Gihan looked at them, silently, then looked back into the little room.

Jango and Satine helped Jaster to that open door and they saw Kenobi and Anakin standing at the side of the stasis pod holding the dead Master, Master Qui-Gon Jinn.

“What’s going on?” Jaster whispered.

Doctor Gihan frowned when he saw Jaster leaning on Satine and Jango. He narrowed his eyes as he looked Jaster’s nearly broken self up and down. He also whispered, “You’re hurt.”

“Yes. What are the boys doing?”

“You’re hurt... again.”

“Well... yes. I was just in a Challenge Match with a Goran!”

Doctor Gihan sniffed. “Excuses.”

“The boys?”

Doctor Gihan sighed and rubbed his forehead. “I’m just keeping an eye on them while they pay respects. Anakin decided it would be helpful to give his brother a concussion on top of everything else, so I just want to be sure Kenobi doesn’t take another fall.”

Kenobi had his head bowed and his hands folded in front of him. Anakin stood beside him and appeared to be trying to be as respectful and solemn as Kenobi, but he kept looking up at Kenobi, as if to see if he was doing it right. It was almost as if they were praying.

After a moment, Kenobi pressed a button on the stasis pod, causing the lid to open. The lid opened with a faint ‘hiss’ as the seal broke, then the lid swung slowly upwards until it stood up straight and gave Kenobi and Anakin a clear view of Master Jinn.

“Are you sure we should do this?” Anakin asked, nervously. “The dead don’t like to be disturbed. We should let him rest.”

“Remember,” Kenobi told him. “Things are different with Jedi. Master Qui-Gon’s spirit has already Rejoined the Force. He isn’t here. But, there are proper ways of doing things.” He reached out his hands and Jango saw the long, snake-like braid that had been ripped off his head. “While we are padawans, we wear a braid as a symbol of our status within the Order. Once it’s removed, that symbolism is gone. We must not be attached to things. Not even this.” He ran his fingers over the braid. “So when our braid is cut, our Master takes it and it becomes a symbol for them. It’s a symbol of all the work they did to teach us to be Knights. Master Qui-Gon should have it.” He leaned forward and slipped the braid into an inner pocket on Master Jinn’s robe. Then he closed the stasis pod and bowed his head, again.

Jaster tapped both Jango and Satine on the shoulders, then motioned for them to go back into the main part of the infirmary. All for the best - Jango had been feeling like he was intruding on a private matter.

They got Jaster settled on one of the infirmary’s beds and Jango, again, had a moment to let himself dwell on things a little too much. It all made Jango’s blood boil. First there was Lubek spying on Satine when she was sleeping and now someone attacking an ill ad like Kenobi? It was unforgivable! So Jango waited patiently while Doctor Gihan gave Jaster a once-over, determining that he was bruised and battered, but a little rest and he’d be fine in a few days.

Jango looked at the chronometer on his vambrace. He had approximately one hour and forty-two minutes left. “I have to get ready,” Jango told everyone when Kenobi and Anakin returned and Doctor Gihan helped Kenobi back into the infirmary bed. “It’s time to go hunting.”

Jaster looked at him with undeniable pride and affection and, not for the first time, Jango didn’t feel worthy. Jango had no lack of self-esteem, but to have someone like Jaster, someone who was ‘bigger than life’, so admirable and good, to think highly of him... well... that couldn’t be right, could it? As often as Jaster had made it clear to both Jango and anyone in the galaxy who would listen to him, that Jango was his child, his heir, the apple of his eye and the light of his life, his pride and joy, Jango couldn’t ever forget that he was the son of farmers. Good, but simple people who had worked hard and had no greater ambitions than keeping food on the table and the house warm. Jango remembered being small and playing in mud puddles. It often seemed impossible that someone like Jaster would think so highly of him.

“Where will you start?” Jaster asked.

“With that Goran, of course. You said he told you that knew who’d attacked Kenobi.”

“Well, at the very least, he strongly hinted at it. And I am confident he won’t tell you anything. I don’t think he trusts us. He seems to want to find out solid evidence for himself before he passes judgment over her. Can’t say as I blame him - I wouldn’t give up one of my warriors without knowing for certain they were guilty of a crime.”

Jango rolled his eyes. “I’m not going to ASK him anything. I’m just going to use him to find a trace of her.”

“Don’t forget that you need to go get the Jetiise. Kenobi needs them and he’s depending on you.”

“If I leave to get them now, I’d have to wait at the edge of the Solstice Storm for a long while before the storm ends. I may as well do something useful instead of sitting up there and waiting. Trust me - I know what I’m doing.”

Jango left, heading for the Fortress’ security room. Once there, he found only a skeleton staff, which was to be expected on a day of such importance. There were a few comments, congratulating Jango on Jaster’s victory and asking him to pass their good wishes along to Jaster. Jango gave polite replies, but was soon in a quiet corner in front of a computer. There were few security recording devices in Keldabe, but there were some on all of the entrances to the city.

It took some little time to track down the arrival of the Goran. Firstly, Jango considered what little he knew. He had seen the Goran at the Fighting Field when he’d gone to retrieve Jaster and Satine and he had recognized Jaster’s opponent as the same Goran he and Satine had spoken to earlier, when Jango had taken Satine for a run around the Fortress. The Goran had spoken with an accent, a slight change in dialect that hinted he was from off-world and that meant he likely would have landed his ship in the Landing Field before going into Keldabe. Jango checked the security recordings from the Glass Gates, the closest entrance into Keldabe from the Landing Field.

‘He’d had a Smithy set up for the festival, obviously a temporary structure, which meant he’d probably come here sometime in the previous couple of days.’ Jango thought, narrowing his search down a bit.

A computer program used to do a visual search for just such matters, was very helpful. He put in the parameters of the search target having black armor with a blue crescent on the breastplate. He input information about the search target’s apparent height and weight and then waited as the computer did a brief search. Within minutes, it found a result and brought up a still image of the Goran (it was obviously the same Goran) standing at the Glass Gates with an unknown, armored person.

Jango focused on that second person. Female, he guessed, though he didn’t put too much stock in that guess. Given that they were wearing a full suit of armor, it was impossible to tell what species that person was, let alone what gender, but they were smaller than the Goran and both Kenobi and Bo-Katan had said that his attacker had sounded female.

Jango sat back in his chair and stared at the image on the screen. It was a good shot of the Mando’ad in question, he was able to see most of her armor. It was a good find, but not good enough. Jango checked the time stamp on the video image, then did a quick search to see who was on guard duty at the Glass Gates at that time. Once the names were found, he made a copy of the image of the Goran and his companion, then left the Security Room and went straight to the Barracks.

The Barracks, the same one Satine had shown them the first day they’d arrived on Mandalore, was a very large building, as was to be expected of a city that had once been entirely populated by warriors. It gave warriors who had no families in the area a free place to live. Now that the New Mandalorians had spent some time in power, there were fewer verde in city which left the Barracks completely free for Jaster’s True Mandalorians and they had all but taken it over.

Inside the barracks, there was a single, large kitchen, a mess hall, and shared washrooms. The majority of the Barracks, however, was one immense room packed with both beds and sleeping pits. The beds were useful to those verd who didn’t wish, for whatever reason, to share their sleeping areas with others. For the sake of fitting as many people in the Barracks as possible, all the beds had been built to be stacked two high, so that one verd would sleep above the other. It was at one of those double bunks that Jango found the verde he was looking for.

He saw Isolna Ye first. The man was not especially tall and was built rather like a tree stump. Isolna was older than Jaster and greatly respected among the True Mandalorians. Isolna was speaking with a young verd, a male who appeared to be at least mostly human and looked to be about Jango’s age.

“Just try it,” Isolna told the younger man.

“It’s weird. I’ll keep sleeping in a bed.”

“Your riduur will like it if you add a sleeping pit to your home. You said she’s very traditional.”

“Stop trying to bully me. And my wife is traditional. The only reason she isn’t head-to-foot in armor is because it wasn’t allowed. Now, she doesn’t want to get armor for herself until the baby is born because she says she’ll just grow out of it, but she’s itching to get me into some. Her being on the traditional side doesn’t mean I have to sleep in a pit. I happen to like my bed.”

“You won’t know if you like a sleeping pit or not unless you try it.”

“Stop that. You’re starting to sound like my mother.”

“Your buir must be a wonderfully intellectual and insightful woman with amazing taste who appreciates the finer things in life.” Isolna saw Jango and smiled. He was entirely in his armor except for his helmet, which he held under one arm. “Evening, Jan’ika.”

Jango scowled. “I’m twenty-three years old, now. Can’t you show me a little respect?”

Isolna reached out and squeezed one of Jango’s cheeks. “With this adorable little face? Never. Jan’ika, this is Metek. Metek, this is Jango Fett - the child of your new Mand’alor.” He grinned at Jango. “We watched the match from here - give your buir our well wishes. I took Metek under my wing. This poor little verd’ika,” he said, completely uncaring that the ‘poor little verd’ika’ had a moustache and was turning red at being talked about as if he were an especially amusing toddler. “Wants to be a warrior, but he’s got no one to train him and has no time to go to the yaim be bajur as he’s working to support his riduur and their unborn ad’ika.” He smiled at Metek. “He’s about to be a buir.”

“In a few months. There’s a little time, yet,” Metek said, standing up. “Mister Ye volunteered to show me the ropes of being a warrior. With luck, I’ll be an adequate warrior in a few years.”

“A few months,” Isolna corrected. “And you’ll be more than adequate, if I have any say in the matter - which I do. Jan’ika, we hadn’t been in this city more than an hour ‘for I’d seen him standing guard in the Fortress.” He shook his head with disapproval. “Didn’t even have a weapon and dressed in cloth. Feh! I knew the little idiot would get himself killed without training.”

Jango did not laugh at Metek’s put-upon expression. “He couldn’t have wished for a better mentor.” Jango had no doubt at all that Isolna would see Metek through his verd’goten and hear him swear the resol’nare.

‘Maybe more of the seasoned verde might be interested in becoming mentors. That way the yaim be bajur won’t get overloaded with New Mandalorian who need lessons.’

It was a thought at the back of his mind for later, when there weren’t more pressing issues.

He looked around and noted that they were alone. “Look, I need some intel from the both of you. I saw that you were on duty at the Glass Gates together a few days ago and two people passed through on your watch.”

Isolna lost all his easy-going air and was as attentive as a striil on a hunt. Metek frowned. “Did... did we let someone in that we shouldn’t have? I’m sure we followed procedure.”

“I’m not blaming anyone for anything,” Jango said, after Isolna had given Metek a pat on the arm to reassure him. “But there was an ad attacked at the festival.”

Both men tensed. “I heard something about that,” Metek said. “My wife and I heard an announcement from Duchess Kryze.”

“Yes, now I want this to be kept secret. Don’t go flapping your lips about this.” He knew Isolna could keep his mouth shut, but waited until Metek nodded his agreement before continuing. “The victim of the attack was one of our young Jetii visitors. This is bad for two reasons. One - an ad was hurt.” And that right there was enough for any good Mandalorian to want vengeance for the injured ad. “Two - Jaster is hoping for better relations with the Jetiise and an attack on a helpless ad who’s in our custody will probably make them think we’re the savages the rest of the galaxy says we are. I need any information you can give me so we can get this cleared up as soon as possible. Even the smallest detail could help us find the attacker.” He pressed a button on his vambrace and it project the holographic image of the Goran and his companion that Jango had recorded earlier in the Security Room. “Do you remember them?”

Metek immediately said, “Yes. It was a Goran. I saw his tools. They said they were here for the Festival, but just about everyone was here for the Festival and we saw thousands of people arrive that day. I didn’t think much of it.”

“Do you remember anything else about them?” Jango asked. “Anything at all? Was that one,” he pointed at the Goran’s companion. “Female or male? Could you tell?”

“They didn’t speak,” Isolna said. “We only spoke to the Goran for a moment. I don’t know what else could help you.”

“They’re from Concordia,” Metek said. “I remember that the Goran said they were from Concordia.”

“And they were together? They weren’t just standing near each other in line?”

“They arrived at the Gates together and they went into the city together.”

Jango nodded and wished them well, telling Metek that he would be wise to be an attentive, obedient student for Isolna as there was no better mentor.

He left the Barracks and headed back to the Fortress - back to the infirmary. He didn’t want to. He really, desperately didn’t want to give Kenobi anymore bad memories and he didn’t want to show him anything painful, but there seemed to be little other choice. The only other person who could identify Kenobi’s attacker was little Bo-Katan and Jango definitely didn’t want to expose the little ad to such a thing. At least Kenobi was older and appeared to be holding himself together pretty well.

“Is this her?” Jango asked the minute he was in the infirmary.

Kenobi and Jaster were in the same beds they’d been in when Jango had left. The soft, mild smell of bacta filled the infirmary as the miracle cure had obviously been used on Jaster’s wounds. There was a rather impressive cut on his forehead that Jaster didn’t want to use bacta on - he wanted a visual reminder of his grand battle with a Goran, so he had decided to keep the scar.

Kenobi stared at the holographic image projected from Jango’s vambrace. “I recognize his armor - he was very kind. He let me sleep at his Smithy.”

“Yes, but what about his companion?” Jango asked. “I’m sorry if this is hard, but she needs to be caught. She’s blown up your ship and now she’s physically attacked you. She’s dangerous and needs to be stopped.” And Jango, who had no hesitation about fighting dirty so long as it got him what he wanted in the end, said, “What if she goes after you and Anakin gets hurt? You know he’d try to defend you.”

The look in Kenobi’s eyes clearly showed that he knew very well that Anakin would try to defend him. “Yes. Yes, she’s the one who took my braid.”

Jango wanted to give some comfort to Kenobi, but he didn’t think himself well suited to such a delicate task. Still, he slapped Kenobi lightly on the arm. Within minutes, he had sent a message to several loyal verde, True Mandalorians with experience and honor, and showed them the image of Kenobi’s attacker. He told them of her crime against an ad and that she needed to be brought to the Fortress to face justice. Those verde copied the image of the suspect to their own vambraces, then assured Jango they would gather their people and search until she was found. Soon, the image of the suspect had been shared from verd to verd, then onto the general population of the city and everyone knew who to look for, they knew who was a threat to ade and the Mandalorians of Keldabe set forth on a hunt for the monster in their midst.

He turned back around and faced the room just in time to see Doctor Iz walk in and to hear Doctor Gihan to say, “Now that everyone is calm and here, there is some important paperwork we should take care of.” He gave Obi-Wan a soft look. “We need your formal testimony about what happened at the festival... what she did to you.”

Anakin opened his mouth to say something, but Satine was sudden standing by the bed and took his hand.

“Why don’t you come with me, Anakin?” Satine asked. “I think that you and I should give Obi-Wan some privacy so he can talk to Doctor Iz. Maybe we can go to my room and make him a snack. What do you say?”

Jango was thankful for her quick thinking as there was no reason Anakin should have to hear such things and Kenobi was sure to be grateful for as small of an audience as possible. Anakin didn’t seem happy with Satine’s suggestion, but Kenobi said he thought it was a fine idea, so Anakin grudgingly slipped off the bed. He went with Satine and, at the door of the infirmary, he turned and waved good-bye before the door closed behind them.

Elsewhere in Keldabe-
Herna-

She ran.

No matter where she went, no matter how many she wounded or killed, she was always followed. She couldn’t rest. It was like someone had stirred up a hive of sweet-stingers and they were swarming after her. She ran, she hid, she took to the air, she crept in dark corners... it didn’t make any difference. There was always someone who found her, whether it was one of Mereel’s people wearing the Mythosaur skull emblem on their shoulder or some random citizen.

She fought one in a salvage yard. He hadn’t been very good, too young to have any real experience. She killed him in that salvage yard. He lay on his back on the garbage, that nameless verd, and Herna panted for breath when it was over. She didn’t have much time. Any moment another person would appear and the chase would begin, again. She was growing fatigued and she could feel herself getting clumsy. It was only a matter of time before someone bested her.

Herna went to the verd she’d killed and she took the vambrace off his arm. It was no great surprise - she’d realized that they had to have learned about her from somewhere - to find a still image of herself and her Leader entering Keldable at the Glass Gates.

She pressed her lips together and thought. ‘It’s the armor,’ she knew, looking at the image of herself. ‘They only know my armor.’

And she knew what she had to do. The only thing she could do, though it meant finally, completely abandoning everything that she was. For what seemed like years, she stood in that salvage yard, frozen.

‘It’s my armor or my boy,’ she thought.

The choice was easy after that. She stripped herself of her armor, letting it fall to the ground. She took off every piece of armor, every carefully wrought piece of beskar that she had worn for years and discarded it with the other garbage in the salvage yard.

Bare-face and in nothing but her undersuit, Herna took a breath, then calmly walked out of the salvage yard. She walked onto the street. No one looked at her. Not a single person even glance at her. She saw people running this way and that, but they were looking for someone in armor and that made it quite simple for her to disappear into the crowds on the street.

To Be Continued...

Ad - child
Ade - children
Beskar - Mandalorian metal
Resol’nare - a vow people must make, laws they live by, if they are to be Mandalorians.
Verd’goten - rite of passage for Mandalorians
Verd - warrior
Verde - multiple warriors
Riduur - spouse
Jetii - Jedi
Jetiise - multiple Jedi

Chapter Text

A/N: WARNING: This chapter has a content warning. Please check the end of the chapter to see it. If you don’t think you need a warning, then please ignore it and continue reading. Enjoy:)

Chapter 45: Painted

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
The Fortress-
Satine’s room-
Anakin-

In Sissy Satine’s room, Anakin sat at the table while she spoke with Miss Nole, her maid.

“She’s not a slave because that’s not allowed in the Mandalorian Empire and even if it was, I wouldn’t own another person. Nole gets paid and she can leave whenever she wants,” Sissy Satine had assured Anakin.

He listened when Sissy Satine told Miss Nole that they were going to bake cookies and asked her to get some ingredients from the kitchen stores for them.

When Nole left, Sissy Satine came to sit at the table with Anakin. “How are you doing? It’s been a rough day, huh?”

“I wanted to like the festival,” Anakin told her. The whole day had been ruined. He knew that Obi-Wan had been very sick and he knew that Obi-Wan might die. People died all the time. Crying about it never fixed anything. Mom said it was okay to cry when people died, but Anakin knew that it didn’t help. Nothing got fixed by crying. No one got saved by crying.

“Do you want to talk?”

Anakin shrugged. The thought of Obi-Wan dying terrified him. Not because he might get sent back to Tatooine. Not because the Jedi wouldn’t want him. He was scared because he just didn’t want Obi-Wan to die.

But there was nothing to be done.

No way to save him.

Only Obi-Wan’s Jedi could save him and they weren’t here, yet.

“I’m gonna kill the woman that hurt him.” Anakin said, looking down at the table because he knew it was bad and he knew Sissy Satine wouldn’t like it.

“That’s a pretty harsh thing to say. I’m not sure Obi-Wan would approve.”

“Master Jinn would.” He thought of Master Jinn, then. Master Jinn had tried to mind-control Watto so he could steal valuable ship parts from him. He had bought Anakin. He tried to buy Anakin’s mom. Anakin had no doubt at all that Master Jinn would understand that sometimes bad things had to be done. “I don’t wanna kill people, but she hurt my Obi.” Anakin sniffed and wiped his nose with the back of his sleeve. “I promised I’d take care of him. I promised. And I can’t do anything. But if she’s dead she can’t hurt him.”

Sissy Satine reached across the table and squeezed his hand. She opened her mouth to say something, but the door open. While Anakin had expected Miss Nole to come back, it wasn’t her who stood in the doorway and the sight of the man there made Sissy Satine squeeze Anakin’s hand. She slowly stood up and faced Trion Lubek.

He was a bad man. He was very bad. He made everyone angry and he scared Sissy Satine.

Sissy Satine’s room was very small compared to the one Boss Jaster was letting them use with him. The room was so small that when Anakin went to stand with Sissy Satine, they seemed entirely too close to Lubek.

He knew what Lubek might do.

He knew what made people dangerous. His mom told him - told him with tears in her eyes what bad people did to slaves and other people who were helpless to defend themselves.

Lubek looking down at them in the darkness... his eyes so intent on Sissy Satine... wanting...

Anakin shuddered and felt sick.

If Sissy Satine was afraid of Lubek, she didn’t show it. She was calm, like there was nothing wrong with seeing him in her room. “It seems Jango was a bit premature when he said you were dead. He will be cross about this.”

Anakin crept a little closer to Sissy Satine. He didn’t like the way Lubek stared at Sissy Satine. He’d seen that look before - the wanting, grabbing sort of look that always proved to be dangerous. Slave masters got that look when they saw slaves they thought were pretty. Anakin was glad - again - that he was ugly.

“He couldn’t keep me away from you. Nothing could. All of my life, you have been my treasure.” Lubek stepped into the room.

Satine grabbed Anakin by the shoulder and tucked him behind herself without taking her eyes off the scary man.

“You need to leave.”

Lubek said, “I have done everything to protect you, to shelter you from those who wanted to hurt you.”

“No one wants to hurt me.” Sissy Satine nudged Anakin backwards and they stepped closer to the sleeping pit. “I’m fine, but you need to leave. Mand’alore Mereel isn’t happy with you. You can’t be in the Fortress.”

Lubek shook his head. “I only ever wanted to protect you and your father approved. He all but gave you to me when he allowed me to be your main contact when you were on Coruscant. You mean everything to me.” He took a few more steps closer to them. “I never would have let Death Watch hurt you. I never would have let him hurt you.” When Sissy Satine inched backwards another step, taking Anakin with her, Lubek scowled. “Don’t run from me! You are everything to me! Why can’t you see that?!”

Sissy Satine lowered her voice. “Calm down. I - I’m trying to understand. Anakin should leave. His brother is waiting for him and if he doesn’t go, Jaster Mereel will come looking for him. Just let Anakin go to Obi-Wan and I’ll stay and listen. We can talk.”

Anakin squeezed Sissy Satine’s hand. It was a bad idea. It was a very bad idea. She shouldn’t stay with the guy. Jango didn’t like him and he was a creeper.

“Obi-Wan.” Lubek sneered out the word like it was a curse. “The Jetii brat. He’s as dangerous as Mereel. I see how that boy looks at you. He came here for you. He wants you. He’ll use his Jetii magic to twist your mind.”

Anakin stepped to the side, lightly pulling Sissy Satine’s arm and he was so relieved when she got the message and stepped with him. Just a couple more steps and they could circle around Lubek and maybe get to the door.

“He won’t.” Sissy Satine kept her voice soft and calm. “He wants to leave. He wants to go back to his people. He’ll be leaving very soon. And I can assure you there is nothing going on between Obi-Wan and myself.”

“I’m not stupid,” Lubek said. “I see how he looks at you.” Then a terrible look of fury made his whole face go dark and Anakin was afraid of him. “I see how you look at him! I see how you watch him. You want him at your side.”

Anakin felt Sissy Satine go tense.

“This is hardly appropriate and -”

“And nothing!” He screamed and slammed his fist against the wall hard enough that a painting was knocked off the wall and fell to the floor with a crash. “I have stood beside you since the moment you walked off the ship and onto Mandalore! I served your father for years. You are NOT going to replace me! I will always be at your side. No matter what. No matter what.” With his eyes locked onto Sissy Satine, he reached behind him and pressed the buttons that locked the door. No one from outside would be able to get in.

Sissy Satine squared her shoulders and her voice went hard. “That’s not going to happen. This is my private room. You need to leave - immediately!”

“No.” He stepped closer to her. “You are mine and I am yours. It was meant to be.” He reached into a pocket of his coat and Anakin was shocked when he didn’t pull out a blaster or some kind of weapon, but a small jar. “I’ll show you. I’ll make you beautiful.”

Anakin looked up and was frightened when he saw how very pale Sissy Satine had gone at the sight of that little jar.

“There will be none of that.” Sissy Satine’s voice was firm. “You will regret even bringing that jar into my room without my permission. For all that’s sacred - get it through your head - I do not love you!”

Lubek’s expression didn’t change, but Anakin felt such ugly feelings from him that he didn’t even have the words to describe them. They were ugly and dark and wanting. He was so sickened by the emotions that he was entirely unprepared for when Lubek leapt at Sissy Satine and dragged her to the floor where he sat on her. He was much bigger than Sissy Satine and his weight was enough to keep her down while he unscrewed the top of the jar that had made Sissy Satine so angry.

“Get that away from me!” Sissy Satine reached up with both hands and tried to reach Lubek’s face, but her arms weren’t long enough.

Anakin liked Sissy Satine. She reminded him a lot of Padme and she liked Obi-Wan so she must be a good person. He lurched at Lubek, throwing his whole body against the man’s back and grabbing hold of his hair to pull as hard as he could.

Lubek let out roar, then reached over his shoulder and grabbed Anakin by the arm and yanked him off. Anakin took two handfuls of hair with him. Then Lubek threw Anakin hard enough that Anakin bashed into one of the legs of Sissy Satine’s table and his shoulder took the brunt of the strike. It hurt. It hurt so bad that his head spun and he saw stars for a moment.

Sissy Satine still couldn’t shake off Lubek and he reached into the open jar with one hand. When he pulled his hand out of the jar, it was covered in bright pink paint.

With angry cry, Sissy Satine grabbed that painted hand and struggled to keep it away from her with one hand while she fumbled around at one of the pockets in her tunic with her other hand. Lubek’s paint dripped off his hand and left small dots of paint all over her neck and her shirt. She kept him away only until he set down his jar of paint on the floor, then grabbed her wrist with his free hand and pinned it on the floor over her head.

Anakin got to his feet, his shoulder still hurting. Pain was only pain. He’d been hurt before. So he charged at Lubek, again, only to get backhanded and knocked back down. Lubek hit him with his paint-covered hand and it got on Anakin.

Lubek smeared the paint on Sissy Satine’s face, rubbing it all over her cheeks and mouth and forehead.

Satine let out a guttural, primal howl.

“I love you. Don’t you understand? I love you.” He kept rubbing the paint on her even when she thrashed and whipped her head back and forth in a desperately vain effort to escape him.

Sissy Satine yanked from the big pocket on her tunic the heavy, metal flute Jango had given her at the festival and swung it wildly at Lubek. She hollered, “Anakin, run!”

And he did. He hopped to his feet and slapped his hand on the door’s controls to open the door. Anakin bolted as quickly as his legs would take him. He ran down the hall and the Mandalorians he passed paused and stared. He heard some exclaim, but there was no time to listen. He had to get help. He wasn’t strong enough and he had to get help from the strongest person ever. His Obi. Anakin ran and ran back to the infirmary. He ran in and spotted Obi-Wan instantly, sitting on the high bed with Boss Jaster and Jango next to him.

Anakin did not hear the whole room go deathly silent when he ran in.

He did not see the look of horror and rage on Boss Jaster’s face.

He didn’t see Jango speaking urgently into the communicator on his vambrace.

He only saw Obi-Wan and ran to him. “Obi!” Anakin shouted. “He’s hurtin’ Sissy! He’s hurtin’ Sissy!”

“Where?” Boss Jaster demanded, already on his feet.

“Her room!”

Boss Jaster swept Anakin up in his arms and started running, Jango right at his side, blaster already in his hands. Boss Jaster had been hurt bad in last fight, but didn’t act hurt when he ran to Sissy Satine’s room.

They reached the door of Sissy Satine’s room and rather than take the time to open it, Jango blasted the door, shattering it into thousands of shards and splinters and two iron hinges still attached to the stone wall.

There was smoke in the air from the blast, the smell of burned wood, and then Jango stepped into the room. Anakin, still held by Boss Jaster, was shocked to see Lubek still sitting on Sissy Satine, but she was bashing him over the head with the metal flute. There was blood on his face from where she must have gotten in a few good blows, his mouth and nose and a long cut over his left eye made him a gory sight. Boss Jaster set Anakin on the floor just as Obi-Wan hobbled into the room, obviously moving as quickly as he could.

Boss Jaster had always been a kind and gentle man and Anakin had learned, rather quickly, that there was no reason to be afraid of him. Not only did the Force seem to whisper that Boss Jaster was safe, but Boss Jaster had been so soft and patient. However, the moment he laid eyes on Sissy Satine - pinned on the floor and covered in a mess of paint, something terrible seemed to explode in Boss Jaster and Anakin was afraid.

With a roar so savage and loud that it seemed to shake the walls, Boss Jaster surged into the room. He seized hold of Lubek - one hand on the other man’s throat and one hand on his arm - then lifted him up off Sissy Satine. He lifted Lubek so far up that Lubek’s feet left the ground. Boss Jaster slammed Lubek face-first into the floor, then picked him back up and threw him into a wall. Lubek slumped to the ground and Jango was at him.

When Lubek attempted to stand, Jango grabbed one of his arms and put it on the floor. Then he slammed his armored fist into the man’s forearm. The arm snapped, an awful ‘crack’ clearly audible, and Lubek blacked out.

“Sat’ika!” Boss Jaster slowly went to her as she sat up. Her face was a mess of dripping pink paint, but it had also gotten into her hair. It had gotten in her ears and on her clothes. “Take it slowly, Sat’ika. He won’t touch you, again.” He squatted down next to her. “You’re safe.”

Anakin looked up at Obi-Wan, who looked so sad.

“Goodness,” Obi-Wan whispered. He brushed his thumb across Anakin’s cheek and when he brought his hand away, Anakin saw that there was pink on Obi-Wan’s thumb. “There’s pink paint on your face.”

Sissy Satine shoved Boss Jaster away and, at the same moment, pulled the blaster from the holster at his hip. In a smooth, quick motion, she was on her feet and had the blaster aimed squarely at Lubek’s head.

“Don’t do it,” Obi-Wan said. “Jaster and Jango have him, now. And if you kill him, you’ll regret it. You’ll really regret it. Don’t ruin your life because of him.”

Anakin thought Sissy Satine was going to shoot Lubek, he really did. But she didn’t. Her hand shook a little, then she lowered the pistol and held it out beside her until Boss Jaster took it.

While Jango hauled Lubek - awake - to his feet, Obi-Wan turned his attention back to Anakin, carefully. “Are you hurt?” He looked at Anakin’s arms and legs and ran his hands over Anakin’s head to feel for bumps before he took the sleeve of his robe and started to wipe at the drops of paint on Anakin’s face. Obi-Wan looked away from Anakin and stared coldly at Lubek, then said something in Mandalorian that Anakin didn’t understand. “Hut’uunla demagolka. Dar’manda.”

Even held back as he was, Lubek lurched towards Obi-Wan, but Jango held him firmly and Sissy Satine darted forward. She slapped him.

It shocked the whole room into silence. In that silence she said, “You will not touch my friends.”

Lubek pleaded, “You have to understand - I love you! I’d do anything for you. Even when you were a child -”

Jaster struck Lubek over the head with his armored fist so hard that Lubek went down and didn’t get up. When Silas and Myles arrived, Boss Jaster snapped something in Mandalorian at them and they each took an arm of the prisoner and dragged him out of the room. “Jango, look after Sat’ika and An’ika!” Then he stormed out of the room after his prisoner.

Jango-

Failure. He was an utter failure and this was all his fault. How could he have been so stupid as to not check for himself to see that Lubek was dead? He had trusted that other bounty hunter... he hated himself for it.

‘Doctor Gihan will be here in a few minutes,’ Jango thought. ‘They’ll both need to talk with their psych-medics... again.’

In the fresher of Satine’s room, Jango stood at her side at the sink. She was in a chair and he, as carefully as he could, helped to wipe the disgusting mess off her. It was obscene, but he did his level best to keep his face expressionless for Satine’s sake.

Obi-Wan and Anakin were at the bathtub. It had a few inches of water in it, but no amount of persuasion could convince Anakin to get in. They sat on the floor and Obi-Wan carefully used a wet cloth to wipe Anakin’s face clean of the paint, even while Anakin squirmed and protested that they couldn’t get the water dirty because then they wouldn’t be able to drink it. Obi-Wan tried to reassure him that Mandalore had plenty of water, so much that they could use as much as they needed to get clean.

Satine was silent, grim. She stared at her reflection in the mirror while Jango tenderly used a wet cloth to clean her face. He spoke to her as he worked. “I’m so proud of you. You fought so hard.”

It was then that Nole, Satine’s lady’s maid, walked into the fresher. She looked around the room, then back over her shoulder at the other room where Jango knew she must have seen the sickening splatters of paint Lubek had left on the floor. Calm as anything, Nole came into the room and waved Jango away from where he stood next to Satine.

Nole nodded at Jango. “If you’ll excuse me, Verd Fett, I’ll see to Milady.”

Jango, who couldn’t seem to stop his hands from shaking, quickly did as he was told and watched when Nole took his place at Satine’s side. She said nothing, but calmly and efficiently washed the remaining paint off Satine’s face.

“I’m sorry,” Jango said. It wasn’t enough. How could it be? How could anything he ever said or did make up for such a failure?

Satine didn’t even look at him. “What for?”

“This is my doing.”

She did turn then, and frowned at him. “You did not do this. Trion did. He and he alone. You didn’t want this to happen. You didn’t help him. And I think if he was still in this room, you’ll kill him.”

“I’d rip his face off with my bare hands.” Honestly, he regretted he hadn’t done it before Jaster had taken Lubek away.

“Then how can you blame yourself? I certainly don’t.”

“I told you he was dead. If I had checked... if I had just looked a little closer... I wish...”

“If wishes were fishes, we’d all eat like kings. Isn’t that the old saying?” She shook her head. “Stop beating yourself up. I’m hardly a Mando’ad, no matter how kind everyone tries to be by suggesting otherwise. I was raised in the Republic. Pink paint means nothing to me.” She waved a hand at her still stained face. “What I am upset about is that Trion ... that he was born and raised on Mandalore and to him pink paint has meaning. I know what he intended. I know what he tried to do and what it meant to him. I hate myself that I misjudged him for so long, that I didn’t understand what he was thinking all these years. I don’t blame you for anything.” She cracked a little smile. “How could I when you helped save me?” She pulled out of her tunic pocket the bes’bev he had given her earlier that day. “I tried to break his head with it.”

“It’s meant to be a stabbing weapon,” Jango said, weakly.

“Then you’ll have to teach me to use it correctly, won’t you?” She turned back to her mirror and let Nole continue her work.

Jango turned and looked at Anakin. Kenobi was cleaning a few drops of paint out of his hair. Anakin didn’t really look terribly upset, but Jango felt sick that such a young ad had been caught up in Lubek’s crime. He could only be thankful that instead of crying, Anakin appeared to be basking in Kenobi’s attention. He was hurt, though. Anakin rubbed his shoulder and there was a bruise forming on half of his face.

Guilt stabbed at Jango.

Jango left the room. In the hall, alone, he stood there for a time. His mistake had cost Satine and Anakin greatly. What if he made a mistake with Kenobi’s attacker? He couldn’t afford another mistake. No one he cared about could afford for him to make a mistake.

There was no other course of action. He needed to be the best bounty hunter... he needed to be perfect.

“Ad.”

He turned sharply and found Jaster standing behind him. As was so common to see, Aranar stood at Jaster’s feet. Jango could hardly look at his buir. Jaster was hurt. His rage in Satine’s room, manhandling Lubek as if he were nothing more than a ragdoll, had been impressive - it must have been the adrenaline that had given Jaster such energy - but Jaster was still hurt. He needed medical treatment and would have been resting in the infirmary if it weren’t for Jango’s mistake.

More guilt.

At once, Jaster came closer and said, “You listen to me - I know you and I know exactly what is going on in your head. You didn’t cause this.”

“I made a mistake,” Jango spat with a gut full of self-loathing.

“So do we all. What are you going to do about it?”

Jango stared back at Jaster. He wanted to march to the prison and kill Lubek. The slime deserved it. “Lubek is still alive?”

Jaster’s lips curled in a way that wasn’t a smile. “There are proper ways to handle such situations. His crime was against Sat’ika and An’ika.”

“They are ade - they can’t be expected to pass judgment.”

“Sat’ika will be twenty in two months.” There was something dreadful in Jaster’s eyes when he snarled, “I can keep Lubek alive for two months and, as an adult, she will decide the fate of her attacker. And you, my precious ad, will save Ken’ika by bringing his Jetiise to him. When that’s done, you may go look for his attacker.”

Jango was so grateful to have the task. To have such a goal set in front of him, to have work, helped to settle his mind. Finding Kenobi’s attacker couldn’t make up for failing Satine, but he could help prevent another attack on his family. “I’ve already set our people to hunting her. If she’s in the city, she’ll be found. If she’s not found by the time I return with the Jetiise, I’ll hunt her.”

“I know you will.” Jaster’s voice softened a bit. “You are as fallible as the rest of us, Jango. Not checking to see if Lubek was dead was a mistake. Will you make the same mistake a second time?”

A growl threatened to erupt from Jango at the idea. “Never!”

Jaster ruffled Jango’s hair. “You are not a bad person, you are not unworthy, because you made a mistake. You have learned from that mistake and now you must forgive yourself. Sat’ika is alive and will recover. She even made an effort to use a weapon to defend herself, a weapon that you gave her. Show yourself some mercy and allow forgiveness. It’s time to move on so you can focus on what is to come next. I will be here and I will stand guard over them, so don’t let yourself become distracted.”

Jango doubted he would ever truly forgive himself for such a mistake, but he would not repeat it. With anger at himself, Lubek, and the galaxy at large still burning in him like a bonfire, Jango spun on his heel and strode away from Jaster, intent on getting to the Landing Field.

He had Jetiise to fetch and a vod’ika to save.

It was time for the Jetiise Masters to meet the Mando’ade.

To Be Continued...

Hut’uunla - cowardly
Demagolka - monster
Dar’manda - Someone who is no longer a Mandalorian
Sat’ika - A familiar nick name. Sort of like saying Little Satine.
An’ika - A familiar nick name. Sort of like saying Little Anakin.
Jetii - Jedi
Jetiise - multiple Jedi
Vod’ika - younger sibling (I think. I’m pretty sure this is correct.)
Mando’ade - Mandalorians
Bes’bev - a Mandalorian flute

A/N: WARNING:

Satine is attacked with pink paint in this chapter and physically attacked. Just like when Obi-Wan had his braid taken, I realize that most people won’t see this as something that needs a warning, but I put it in because for Mandalorians, this is a very serious attack.

Also, I almost didn’t add in this chapter. It’s so similar to what happened to Obi-Wan that I thought two such scenes in one story would be too much and, really, unnecessary. But I’d already written the chapter and it seemed a shame to junk it. I’ve already cut so many scenes that I liked but weren’t really necessary to the story, so I wanted to keep this one.

Chapter Text

A/N: Thank you to everyone who was so understanding about me not updating last week. I appreciate it.

Chapter 46: The Job

At the Edge of the Mandalorian Empire-
Pirate Vetton, First Mate-

On the pirate ship, Vendetta, First Mate Vetton stood at his berth in a room he shared with a dozen of his shipmates. The berths were stacked, two high, down each side of the bunk room. At his berth, Vetton stood quiet in a room full of noise as his shipmates hurriedly got ready, dressing in the fake Mandalorian armor. Vetton was almost entirely dressed in his fake armor, too. His forearms rested on the top bunk and his head was slightly bowed.

“I’m gonna buy an island somewhere, one of those places with black sand on all the beaches.”

“With those kind of credits in my pockets, I’m going to get so drunk I’ll never wake up!”

“It’s a pleasure house for me, one of those good ones where you don’t have to worry about catching something.”

Vetton barely heard any of it.

All around him, his crewmates were laughing and joking, working themselves up for the coming confrontation, telling each other what they would do with their share of the extraordinary payment they’d been promised.

He was sweating. He felt like his lungs were clogged up with cotton. He was man enough to admit the truth - he was scared. He was more than scared. He was terrified. He was reasonably sure he was going to be dead very shortly and he really didn’t want to be dead. He didn’t want to wear the fake armor. He didn’t want to fight Jedi. In front of him, on his bunk, rested the final piece of his costume for the coming job - a helmet. It was steel and the T-shaped visor stared at him, reflecting his own eyes.

‘This is a bad idea.’ He couldn’t say it out loud. He’d already told his Captain his reservations about this job. And the crew had voted in favor of doing it. If he backed out, they’d kill him.

It was the way of things. He’d signed the ship’s articles, after all.

As the crew finished putting on the fake armor and began to leave the bunk room to get to their stations for the attack on the Jedi, someone slapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t look so down. We’re all going to be rich!”

He put on the fake helmet and thought, ‘Dead. We’re all going to be dead.’

As the rest of the crew made for their stations - the ear-splitting noise of metal armor clanging and banging against itself, other people’s armor, the walls, and anything else that got in the way - Vetton did not follow them. He went to the Captain’s quarters where he found her sitting on her bunk - Captain’s didn’t bunk with the crew, after all - staring into the distance.

She looked up after a moment and laughed at him. “Oh, don’t you look a sight! Should have had
us all measured for this ruddy armor!”

Vetton knew perfectly well that he looked ridiculous. The armor was far too big on him. “If you’re done,” he said, sharply. “Do we have actual plan? You know... for fighting Jedi?”

A chill ran down Vetton’s spine when the words passed his lips. This was SUCH a bad idea.

“I told you - we figure out which ship he’s on and...”

“You’re still presuming the two Jedi are on two different ships.”

She rolled her eyes. “It is the most sensible thing to presume. If the client wants one of them dead and one alive, he’s got to know they’re in two different places. It would be almost impossible to kill one and leave one alive when they are on one ship. If we fail because they are on one ship, then the client will gain nothing. Logically, they must be on separate ships.”

“You’re presuming that your client is logical. If we fail, he loses nothing. He’ll just find another group of pirates and promise the same bounty. He can do that over and over without any losses until someone succeeds.” Vetton shook his head. “Look - did he actually say they were on two separate ships when you spoke to him?”

“Well... no. Here, you can see for yourself.” She went to the small communicator in her cabin, fiddled with it for a few minutes before she brought up the recording of the client. “I record all my business transactions,” she grinned at Vetton. “Just in case.”

Vetton watched the recording. The client was clearly trying to stay disguised. He wore some sort of hooded robe that covered his whole face in shadow, but it was clear to Vetton that it was a humanoid male, though he couldn’t tell which species. The voice was unnerving, strong and gravely... a person of confidence who thought he was too strong to fail. The voice sounded distantly familiar - like something heard in a long-ago memory. Vetton listened when the stranger agreed to pay for the murder of Master of the Order, Jedi Master Mace Windu.

There was no mention of what to do if both men were on the same ship, only that Master Windu needed to die while the other was to be allowed to live and think that Mandalorians had done the deed. It was so.... unorganized. There were too many things that could go wrong.

“So, we don’t have any real details about the job and we don’t have any better plan than ‘we’ll wing it’.” Vetton said when the recording ended. He had a headache. “Can we make a plan about what to do if they’re not on two ships? Please?”

“If their ship is small enough, we’ll bring them aboard. I have Brakkis Gas in the hold. It will make anyone who breathes it pass out. As soon as they come out of their ship, we’ll gas them. No matter how strong or fast a Jedi is, I’m pretty sure they still have to breathe. After they pass out, we’ll kill Windu and then put the other one back in his ship and let him go. He’ll wake up in about an hour and all he’ll remember is,” she held up her helmet and slapped it with one hand. “Mandos. And you thought I didn’t have a solution to this little problem.”

"What if their ship isn't small enough for us to take them onboard?"

"That's unlikely. Everyone knows the Jedi always go around in tiny crafts. If we have to, we have four ships in our fleet, so we'll force them to land somewhere and deal with them on solid ground."

Vetton considered it. It could work if luck was on their side. Possibly. Maybe. He didn’t like it and there were still too many things that could go wrong, but it was a better plan than he’d thought she’d had.

He said nothing about the fact that they were about to kill an innocent man.

Of course, Vetton had never met Jedi Windu. He’d never met any Jedi. It was entirely possible that Jedi Windu was a terrible person. Maybe he kicked massiff puppies in his spare time. Maybe he pushed grandmothers down flights of stairs. He could truly be an awful person. But he could also be a good man who wanted to make the galaxy a better place. Maybe he knitted booties for babies. Maybe he volunteered in a soup kitchen.

“Do we know why the client wants this Jedi dead?”

“Does it matter?”

It did. Vetton had very little choice when he’d signed aboard with Captain Nur’s crew. Life was hard and he needed to eat. But their usual jobs involved stealing and smuggling. Murder... cold blooded murder of an innocent man was not what Vetton wanted.

“Are you going to argue more?” Captain Nur asked.

“No point, I suppose. I think I already said it all.” And he had. He had warned against this job. He had tried to persuade the crew that all the credits in the Universe were worth nothing to the dead. Nothing had worked.

She stood up and put on her fake helmet. “Now, let’s get to the command deck and get this done.” On their way out of her cabin, she slapped his arm, playfully. “Cheer up! Think what you’ll do with all those credits.”

“If we live,” he said. “And if we actually manage to kill a Jedi,” He felt like he was going to vomit. “I am going to retire. I won’t be signing aboard, again.”

“What?”

“I’m tired. I wish you well, but Ship’s Articles say that once every hand has earned at least two thousand credits in booty - which this job would earn us - the company may part ways or sign aboard, again. I will choose to part ways.”

She was quiet until they reached the door to the command deck, when she finally stopped walking and turned to face him with a sharp nod. “Right, then. I’ll wish you happiness and fortune. You’ve been a good shipmate. Now, let’s earn you that retirement.”

The Edge of the Solstice Storm-
The Breeze-
Master Dooku-

Mace had just begun to read the small book Master Nu had sent to them when Plo and Dooku began to speak.

“It would be good to have more modern information about the Mandalorians,” Plo said. He gestured to where Mace was reading. “That book is nearly three hundred years old, surely they have changed over time.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Dooku said. “While I have met a few Mandalorians during my life, I have not had the opportunity to get into any in depth discussions with them.”

“We should have.” Mace said, without looking up from the book. “We should have had more contact with them over the years. A lot more contact.”

Plo said, “Relations have been... well... delicate...”

“All the more reason to face the situation head on and fix it,” Mace said. His voice was almost severe - unforgiving. “I have been remiss in my duties by not attempting some sort of contact. If we had better relations with the Mandalorian Empire, we would be able to be more confident that the younglings are well.”

Plo said, “It’s not your fault. The Senate forbade us to -”

“The Senate can kiss my -”

Dooku snapped, “Finish that sentence and I’ll be having words with your Master! The Senate may be filled with large puddles of slime masquerading as people, but that’s no reason for you to indulge in foul language.” After Mace gave him a grudging nod of understanding, Dooku continued, “And Plo is correct - it is hardly your fault that there has been strife between our people for so many years. The more recent rulers of the Mandalorian Empire were not exactly jumping to have warm, friendly relations with any Jedi and the Senators being... well... themselves did nothing to help the situation.”

“Quite right,” Plo said. “There is no profit in bemoaning the past. We will look to the future.”

Still, Mace didn’t look up from the book. “Of course, you’re right. I suggest we review all the information we have. This is the first real meeting between our peoples in decades and we can’t afford for anything to go wrong. We need to retrieve the younglings and then be away before any unfortunate incidents can delay our stay in the Mandalorian Empire.” He sighed in that way that suggested one of his terrible headaches was coming on. “We need to get home and help with what is going on.”

Dooku had told them of Feemor’s visit and his news that Master Yoda had, somehow, gotten the whole Temple packed up in the ships of the Service Corps in just a few days. It was shocking news - hopeful and terrifying. He could understand Mace’s urgency to get back to help, to make sure their people were safe in such an uncertain time.

Plo, sitting at the helm and patiently staring out at the stars in front of them, said, “I read what I could about Mandalorians before we left the Temple, but there was precious little.” He told them what he knew - about the main political factions and their leaders. “It appears that our younglings are in the care of Jaster Mereel and seem to be doing well enough with him. Dooku, as a Guardian, you have more experience with life away from the Temple than either of us. Can you think of anything we should keep in mind for this meeting?”

Dooku paused in his introspective stroll down the length of the ship (because he did not pace with agitation and worry!). “I have encountered some few Mandalorians in my life. They are the same as people the galaxy over - some are good, some are bad, some are wise, and some are foolish. As a general rule, I have had very little issue with the ones I have encountered. What we must be sure to remember is that there is upheaval on the planet. When last I heard, the current political leader of the Empire - Duchess Satine Kryze - had received a challenge from Jaster Mereel.”

Dooku resumed his introspective stroll, taking absolutely no offense when Mace continued to read and Plo watched the controls of the ship as well as space ahead of them. He knew they were both well able to multi-task.

“Death Watch is another factor to be aware of. We know more about them. Information coming out of the Mandalorian Empire tells us that they have turned the whole Empire into a powder keg, just waiting to explode. They are not a proper military, but terrorists. However, they are well-known to attack any vulnerable target, whether that be military or civilian. If they should gain control of the Empire, it would be very bad for everyone.” He knew they were aware of Death Watch and the havoc they were bringing to the Mandalorian people, it was Mace’s business to keep abreast of such things because Force only knew that the Senate was only too likely to make some ridiculous decision like ordering Jedi to the Mandalorian Empire to sort things out - whether the Mandalorians asked for help or not.

Dooku shuddered at the idea. Any such action would be disastrous for both Mandalorians and Jedi. They were taking such a great risk with only the three of them going to the Mandalorians to get Obi-Wan and Anakin and all three of them knew, very well, that they might not survive the rescue attempt.

He had the rather jaded suspicion that another terrible war between the Jedi and the Mandalorians it might suit some senators just fine, but he chose to keep silent on that matter. Mace didn’t need another headache at such a time.

“Another thing to keep in mind,” Plo added. “Is that Obi-Wan appears to be having trouble with his legs. I don’t know if it is the Arkon Poisoning or if he’s been injured, but he had a walking stick when I spoke with him.” He shot Dooku a look over his shoulder. “He tried to hide it from me. Qui-Gon was working with him about asking for help and acknowledging that neither injury nor illness equal weakness, but Obi-Wan had trouble with those lessons. We will have to get a look at his legs. He spoke very respectfully of the Mandalorians whom he was with. He said that Jaster Mereel and his people were taking very good care of them and I didn’t get any hint that he was speaking under duress.”

It was good to hear. Obi-Wan was an accomplished liar, but Dooku didn’t think he would lie to Plo in such a situation.

It was only minutes before the Solstice Storm ended.

“Let me send out another message.” Plo pressed a button on the control console and said, “This is the ship Breeze from the Jedi Temple of Coruscant. We are on a rescue mission. Please respond.” He paused and waited a few moments before he said. “It didn’t get through. The Solstice Storm is still active.”

“How interesting,” Mace said, without looking up from the book. “The only way we know the storm is active is because nothing can get through it - not even transmissions. We can’t monitor the storm in any way other than by how it affects other things.”

It was interesting, Dooku knew. Interesting and irrelevant. He had to turn away from his friends and close his eyes, centering himself to a calmer state. He wanted his grandpadawans. They needed him. No matter the reputation Mandalorians had when it came to the wellbeing of children, there was no possible way that any of them could look after Obi-Wan and Anakin as well as he could.

“We have company.”

Dooku opened his eyes and looked out of the viewing screen over Plo’s shoulder.

Mace stopped reading and put the half-read book on the floor beside his seat.

Jocasta would have a fit if she saw him treating her books like that.

There was a tiny fleet just coming into sight.

“Four ships, all of different makes,” Plo told them as he studied the controls in front of him. “We’re being contacted.”

There was a small screen on the console of the ship and when Plo pressed a button next to that screen to accept the incoming transmission, the screen activated and showed them an image of their visitors.

Dooku immediate thought, “Mandalorians”, but something was wrong. He couldn’t put his finger on it. The transmitted image showed a command deck filled with armored people. They looked like Mandalorians, but... something wasn't quite right.

Mace, as the highest rank among their number, spoke first. “It is good to see support, but we weren’t expecting any. Are you here to escort us to Mandalore?”

The armored people all looked at each other in a way that made Dooku narrow his eyes.

“Yes,” the armored person closest to the transmitter said, at last. “Yes, that’s exactly why we’re here. We’re going to bring you on board our ship and then we’ll take you to Mandalore.”

Dooku scowled, closely looking at the armor.

“That’s unnecessary,” Mace told them. “We’ll be able to make it to the planet in our ship, but I thank you for the offer.”

Plo silenced the transmitter, so the visitors wouldn’t be able to hear them. “I don’t like this.”

Mace discretely covered his mouth with his hand so their visitors wouldn’t be able to read his lips, on the off chance that any of them knew how. “That’s because this is a trap. With the Solstice Storm active, there is no way anyone from Mandalore could have contacted them to tell them we were here and no need to send an escort.”

Plo said, “What do you think their objective is? Obi-Wan was very comfortable with Jaster Mereel and seemed to trust him, so don't think this has anything to do with Alor Mereel.”

“New Mandalorians don’t wear armor,” Dooku said. “That leaves one group - Death Watch.” But even that explanation didn’t seem right. Death Watch was occupied in their civil war, they rarely ever left the bounds of the Mandalorian Empire. Also, from what little Dooku knew of them - and it was painfully little - Death Watch would have been more likely to open up a volley of fire the minute they saw the Jedi robes, not offer them an escort. “I don’t like this, either.”

He tapped Plo’s shoulder and Plo wordlessly got out of the pilot’s seat to allow Dooku to take it. He immediately began to charge the weapons system because even though the Jedi carried only minimal weaponry on their few ships, they did have some. He started the engine.

Mace told the armored people. “I think we will refuse your offer.”

“I must insist, Master Windu.”

Again, Plo silenced the transmission. “They know you, Mace.”

Mace closed his eyes and Dooku could feel him relax, surrender himself to the Force. “Their focus is on me.” He opened his eyes. “They’re after me. I’ll draw them away. Master Koon, take the antidote for Obi-Wan. Go to Dooku’s ship. As soon as I disengage the docking mechanism, run for it. When the Solstice Storm ends get that antidote to Obi-Wan. Whoever our visitors are, they’re clearly looking for me, so I’m going to stay here and lead them off.”

Plo went still for a mere second, then sharply nodded. He took the precious case containing the antidote to Arkon Poisoning and held it in a strong, secure grip. “I’ll take the ship into the Solstice Storm and wait. May the Force be with you.” With that, he went into the other ship and sealed the hatch between the two ships behind him.

“You should go with him,” Mace told Dooku. His mouth was pressed into a firm line and his eyes narrowed. “I can deal with this and there’s no reason for two of us to be in danger.”

Without hesitation, Dooku reached over and smacked Mace on the back of the head.

“What was that for?!” Mace demanded.

“For making such a ridiculous suggestion right in front of me. Did you honestly think I was going to leave you out here? Do you have any idea what your Master would do to me if I abandoned you? Besides, I’m the best pilot and best shot out of all of us.” He wasn’t bragging - it was the blunt truth. He had spent most of life as a Jedi Guardian, fighting for peace and justice with very little back up. Mace and Plo were, by far, gentler and kind-hearted than he was and less suited for combat. Most of the Jedi were. Force help them if the Jedi ever needed to go to war.

All that aside, he couldn’t leave Mace out here on his own. He’d worry too much.

When Plo had gotten to the other ship and signaled he was ready, Mace said to the armored people, “Again, I will refuse your generous offer. I am quite comfortable where I am.”

The armored person looked between the two of them. Then shrugged. “Have it your way." She said to her people, “Open fire. Disable their ship.”

And then they were in battle.

Dooku detached the other ship and, even as he fired back at their attackers with the entirely inadequate guns on the ship, they watched when Plo headed for the Solstice Storm.

Mace sent another message to their attackers. “I’ll be on my way, now.” Then turned the audio off. “That should be enough to let them know what ship I’m on.”

Thankfully, it worked. As Dooku turned the Breeze and fled, the attacking ships followed him, instead of Plo. As they flew away from Plo, they had enough time to watch as his ship entered the Solstice Storm. The ship’s lights went dark. Without power, the ship drifted. It was like looking at a ghost ship.

Dooku and Mace said, “May the Force be with you”, even though there was no way Plo could hear them.

“He’s trapped,” Mace said.

“Only until the storm ends and those people - whoever they are - won’t be able to attack him until it ends. Even if they fired into the Solstice Storm the power of the blasts would be eaten by the Solstice Storm. He’s safe.” And Dooku felt an overwhelming gratitude to Plo. By temporarily stranding himself, he had guaranteed that any skirmish with their attackers would not end up with the destruction of the medicine Obi-Wan so urgently needed.

Dooku headed the ship away from where Plo had stranded himself, moving fast enough to keep out of reach of the attacker’s ships, but not so fast that there was any chance of losing them. The last thing he wanted was for the attackers to turn back and wait at the Solstice Storm until it ended when they could make an attempt to get Plo.

Blasts rocked the ship and Dooku easily let his mind focus on the battle that the Mandalorians apparently wanted. He did his best to push aside all thoughts of his grandpadawans, worry for Plo, puzzlement about what Mandalorians might want with Mace, and the ever-present worry about what was going on at the Temple. As the blaster fire kept coming, Dooku’s eyes fell half-closed as he opened his consciousness to the Force and felt its’ strong, sure presence. He let it show him how to move, listened when it told him where the danger was. The Breeze darted this way and that, taking a few hits here and there because no matter how accomplished the Jedi might be, they could never truly match pace with the Force.

Mace spoke into the transmitter while Dooku focused on keeping them alive. “Why are you doing this?” Mace asked the attackers. “You will find that there would be no payment for any ransom asked if you should take me prisoner.”

There was no response.

As Mace kept trying to contact their pursuers, trying to get some sort of communication from them, Dooku flew onward. After a short time, he had the ship's navigation system scan the area. Not too far off was a tiny planet caught his attention. “Ah,” he said, pleased. “This will do. It isn’t big enough to have a proper name. It’s called L-146 on galactic charts. The planet has no indigenous sentient life forms and is mostly covered in rocks and moss. It has a breathable atmosphere.”

Mace blinked at him. “And what does that have to do with our current situation?”

“We’re going there.”

“Why?”

Dooku grabbed the lever that controlled the Breeze’s speed after setting the navigation for L-146 and increased their speed. “Because they have four ships and we have one. I’d like to even the odds a bit.”

“If we go to hyperspace we could lose them.”

“And they would then go back and wait to get Plo. No, it’s much better to get them as far from Plo as possible and then simply be rid of them.” He increased the speed a bit more.

Mace said, “You don’t actually have to go so fast, we’re already well ahead of them.”

“I want them to think I’m trying to get away from them.”

“Maybe I should pilot.” A blast a bit too close to the Breeze made the whole ship shake and Mace had to steady himself by grabbing at the console.

“You?” Dooku sniffed. “You barely passed your pilot’s exam with two points to spare -”

“That was twenty-six years ago!”

“- And you haven’t left Coruscant in years, let alone piloted a ship. So, no, you are not going to pilot this ship. Not while I’m here. Oh,” He smiled happily when he noticed something up ahead between them and the little planet. “An asteroid field. How nice. We’ll go in there.”

“Do we have to?”

“Yes.”

To Be Continued...

The author would like to note that Master Windu will very shortly regret failing to completely read the book Master Nu had sent.

Chapter Text

Chapter 47: Missing Kar’ta

Approaching the Solstice Storm, the Mandalorian Side -
Jango-

In the darkness of space, in the silence of the void, Jango Fett stood on the command deck of the small ship. Even as he stood ready in case of anything going wrong during their journey to the Solstice Storm, his mind kept going back to the awful day.

‘I should have taken more time to see that An’ika was alright,’ he thought.

Jango had spent so much time trying to take care of Satine, as she’d been the main victim of Lubek’s attack, that he hadn’t spent nearly enough time tending to Anakin. He felt sick thinking of how Anakin had looked, running frantically into the infirmary with disgusting pink paint splattered on his face. His only consolation was that Anakin hadn’t actually seemed upset about anything other than Satine getting hurt. He’d let Kenobi wash the paint off him with a minimum of fussing and had been smiling the last time Jango had seen him, looking very pleased to be cuddled up next to Kenobi. That Anakin didn’t understand what had been done to him was the only blessing in the whole terrible situation. Others had seen and understood. Jango honestly wondered if, given the number of infuriated Mando’ade who’d seen what Lubek had done to Anakin, and what they had undoubtedly heard though rumors that he’d done to Satine, whether or not they’d be able to keep him alive until his trial.

He also should have done something more to make sure Kenobi was alright, too. Should have...

‘Stop thinking about it,’ Jango’s mind shot back to Jaster telling him not to drown in self-pity, but to strive for better. He would. He needed to focus on the present.

The ship Jango was on was called the Flight, but it wasn’t his ship. The Bral was gone, blown to ruins by Death Watch. This ship, and the two others that flew with it, were far smaller than the Bral, but they had respectable firepower and speed so Jango wasn’t about to complain.

Jango concentrated on the mission at hand. He kept going over every eventuality - from a Death Watch attack to the pirates Kenobi and Anakin had run into two weeks previously - that might disrupt what should be a very simple escort mission. His crew, only four people, just enough to run the ship, were quiet as they went about their work, each one of them knew how important the mission was.

“Contact the other ships,” Jango told the communication technician.

A moment later, the screen on the console of the transmission station showed the images of Isolna and Ba’vodu Kal who commanded the other two ships. That made three ships, each one with a commander and a crew of four.

Jango took off his helmet and faced the transmission station. “Anything to report?”

“Nothing,” Isolna said. “All quiet.”

Ba’vodu Kal told them, “There’s nothing of interest on the scanners.”

“Same here,” Jango told them.

Ba’vodu Kal was a friend of Jaster’s, a Mando’ad of the old ways. Not as traditional as some, but a stern, hard man with a soul as soft as pudding. It came as a surprise to anyone who met him that he had no ade. The man was a favorite of all ade he met and had always been a soft touch with them, something Jango had benefited from when he’d been freshly pulled from the fields of his family’s farm after the attack.

He could hear his sister scream. Arla...

Jango sniffed and shook his head to drag his thoughts away from the sudden, unwelcome memory. Dwelling on the past and things he couldn’t change served no useful purpose. It never did any good. He had no memory between hearing Arla scream and when Jaster had suddenly been there, his big arms around little Jango as he calmed Jango from his hysterical panic and his True Mandalorians battled Death Watch while the Fett family farm burned.

Trauma, Doctor Gihan had said, had hid Jango’s memories of that terrible day. Jango had never been able to decide if he wanted those memories back or not.

‘Concentrate,’ he scolded himself. ‘There’s work to be done. I can’t help Arla, but there are other ade I can help!’

Jango said, “I don’t trust all this quiet. It’s not natural. Whatever happens, that medicine must get to Mandalore.”

“Don’t you worry,” Ba’vodu Kal smiled, making the many scars on his face twitch and wrinkle. “We’ll save your vod’ika.”

When Ba’vodu Kal and Isolna terminated the transmission, with the word ‘vod’ika’ echoing in his mind, Jango slipped his helmet back on to hide his face. He was not going to get emotional just because Ba’Vodu Kal called Kenobi his sibling.

Neither Kenobi nor Anakin were really his vod’ike and it was unlikely that they ever would be, but he could hold them dear in his heart, he could ask the Manda for blessings to fall on them, and he could be their ori’vod in all ways that truly mattered.

He could bring their Jetiise Masters to them.

Hours after leaving Mandalore, they reached the edge of the Solstice Storm, close to the point where they’d intercepted the two transmissions from the Jetiise coming for Kenobi and Anakin. There, they waited until the storm ended and, when it did, there was no great sign that anything had changed - no flash of light or thunderous noise, it was simply gone.

“We’re getting a signal across to Republic space,” the communication technician said. “The Solstice Storm is over! We’re cleared to go find the Jetiise.”

Jango wasn’t completely blind to the fact that most Mandalorians wanted to meet Jetiise. It really wasn’t a surprise - legendary warriors who were able to match well against Mandalorians on the battlefield, but had lived mostly secluded lives was something to grab the interest of any Mando’ade. Even in Republic space the Jetiise were so rarely seen that one might live their entire life in the Republic and never see a Jetii unless one went straight to Coruscant and set up camp outside the Jetii Temple to watch for one of them.

Mando’ade doing just that had led to a few little political incidents over the years.

“Right,” Jango sat in one of the seats of the ship. There didn’t seem to be an actual commander’s seat, so he’d just taken one near the door that led from the command deck to the rest of the ship. “Let’s get going. It shouldn’t take too long to -”

“Found ‘em.”

Jango looked over at the verd monitoring their sensors. “What?”

“Found them. Least, I guess it’s the Jetiise. Don’t know who else would be out here.” She gave the coordinates to the helmsman and they were off. Shortly after, they found a tiny craft quickly making its’ way into Mandalorian space. Jango had his communication technician send out a transmission.

“You are entering the territory of the Mandalorian Empire,” he said in Basic. “Identify yourself and state your business.”

Immediately, their transmission was returned and the screen on the communication station lit up with the image of a Kel Dor. Jango recognized him as Master Koon, who’d spoken to Kenobi that second, brief time when they’d been able to get a signal through the storm.

“Greetings,” Master Koon bowed his head in what Jango knew the Jetiise held as a respectful gesture. He didn’t like the subservient undertones of the gesture, but it wasn’t up to him to pass such judgments on the ways of other people. Master Koon, with his face almost entirely hidden by goggles and a breathing mask to prevent himself from being forced to breathe oxygen, continued, briskly and seemly at ease. “I am on an official rescue mission to Mandalore and I was assured by Alor Jaster Mereel that I would not be detained.”

Jango said, “You will not be. I am Jango Fett and I’ve been sent by Mand’alor Mereel to see that you reach Mandalore safely.”

“Thank you. You will forgive my caution, I hope,” Master Koon said. “But my people were attacked only moments ago. My friends took the other ship we had and led the attackers away.”

“Attackers?”

“We had taken them as Mandalorians, given their armor. One of my companions suspected something wasn’t quite right, though he wasn’t sure what. We decided to divide our forces and our attackers, all four of their ships, followed my companions with their weapons firing. It was a fearsome sight. Is there some reason your people might have attacked us?” Master Koon leaned a little closer, his face filling the viewing screen of the transmitter. There was something deceptively soft about his masked face. “I swear, we are only bringing medication to save the life of a helpless youngling. We don’t mean anyone any harm.”

“You have the medicine? For Kenobi?”

Master Koon’s expression seemed to brighten up. “Yes. I remember. You were with him when I spoke with him. You’ve been helping to take care of him and Future Initiate Skywalker. Jango, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Kenobi called you ‘Master Koon’ I believe. We’ll escort you to Mandalore. Was your ship damaged in the battle... no. Never mind that. Even if your ship is fully operational, our ships are faster. Will you board one of our ships and let them get you to Mandalore all the faster?”

Master Koon was silent for a moment. “Yes. Yes, the Force feels calm around you, so I will trust you.” His voice turned warm. “I thank you for your help, Jango Fett.”

There was something about Master Koon’s voice. It was warm and soft, but also strong and deep. And Jango was suddenly, inexplicably bashful and stunned to hear such gratitude that almost sounded like affection. That couldn’t be, of course, as they had only spoken for a bare few seconds, and he wondered if it were some Jetiise trick to make enemies lower their guard.

Jango contacted Ba’vodu Kal and introduced him to Master Koon through the transmitter.

“Master Koon, this is Verd Kal Skirata,” he said, formally so as to make a good first impression on the Jetii. “Verd Skirata, please escort Master Koon to Mandalore.” He said to Master Koon, “Verd Skirata is a good friend of my buir. He’ll make sure you get there safely.”

“You have my thanks, young warrior. I can tell that our younglings have been in safe hands.”

Again, Jango felt a flash of happy warmth, but it was soured by shame as he knew that, very soon, Master Koon would learn that Kenobi and Anakin had not been safe. They had been hurt.

Master Koon watched Jango closely in such a way that, for a moment, Jango wondered at the rumors of Jetii being able to read minds.

Before the transmission ended, Jango assured Master Koon, “I will go for your friends, and, one way or the other, I’ll return them to you.” He watched as the Jetii’s ship was taken onto Ba’vodu Kal’s ship, then watched as that ship turned and raced away.

Kenobi would have his medicine. He would be saved. Which meant that Jango could turn his mind to the other problem and, hopefully, find an excuse to expend some of the anger that had been building since they’d found Kenobi in that alley with his braid on the filthy ground. Jango stood quietly on the command deck. As angry as he was, he was still, above all, a profession and he would not allow his emotions to ruin a hunt.

To the small crew of the ship, he said, “Let’s go find out who’s raising arms against our Jetiise.”

A Short Distance Away-
Master Dooku-

“Slow down, Master Dooku,” Mace said.

They raced through the asteroid field. They dodged here and there as Dooku kept an eye on the four ships pursing them to make sure he didn’t lose them. The Breeze fairly danced among the thousands of asteroids with the Force showing him how and when to move. They only took a few hits from the asteroids and none from their attackers.

“Slow down? That wouldn’t do much to help us.”

“It might stop us from crashing.”

“We’re not going to crash,” Dooku sniffed. “I have never crashed a ship in my life.” He increased their speed and was pleased to see that the daredevil pursuers also increased their speed.

“I would not like to be a part of your first experience,” Mace said. While he held himself as calm as any Jedi could ever hope to, Dooku did notice the tiniest hair of tension lacing Mace’s voice. Despite that, he was pleased with how well Mace was taking things.

They left the asteroid field after a time and continued on to the little planet where Dooku planned to dispatch the attackers.

“I don’t know why you’re upset. You were quite the little thrill-seeker in your younger days.” Dooku sighed, fondly. “I remember one occasion you and Qui-Gon had gotten caught after sneaking out of the Temple so you could try to scale the Senate building.” Dooku increased their speed, again.

Mace put hand on the control console in front of him to brace himself. “That was a long time ago.”

It didn’t seem like so long to Dooku. He remembered it clearly.

Memory-

In the rooms Dooku shared with his young Padawan, Dooku stood with Mace’s Master. “Trying to climb to the top of the Senate building,” Dooku sighed.

“Well, thank you for retrieving my Padawan. I owe you.”

“Never mind that,” Dooku waved away the thanks. “The next time they get into mischief, you can bail them out and have them grounded in your rooms.”

There were two bursts of laughter from Qui-Gon’s room.

Mace’s Master shook her head. “Grounded? This is a sleepover.”

“It is most certainly not a sleepover! They were both filthy when I fetched them and needed to wash. By the time they were clean and fed, it simply made more sense to keep Mace here for what little remains of the night.”

Another burst of laughter.

“Dooku, grounded Padawans are not that happy. We’ll have to discipline them properly in the morning. Have fun and don’t spoil my Padawan too much. We’ll talk about an actual discipline when they’re both rested.”

She left and Dooku listened as the boys laughed at something else. He went to the door of Qui-Gon’s room and thumped it with his fist. “If you two don’t go to sleep, I’m going to pitch you both out a window!”

There was one final giggle - that Dooku knew was little Qui-Gon - before they quieted down and were soon fast asleep.

End Memory-

Dooku smiled at the fond memory and upped the ship’s speed by just a little more. They slipped into the atmosphere of the little planet Dooku had found. Clouds raced by them. “You were such an adorable little youngling, Mace.”

“The hull of the ship isn’t doing too good. Too many strikes from the asteroids.”

“We’re fine. I know what I’m doing. As I was saying, you used to like a bit of adventure. I think you’ve been in the Temple too long.” Dooku looked at the sensors and saw that the attacker’s small fleet was still following, going almost fast enough. He pulled the ship up at a sharp angle, forcing the pursuers to follow. Two ships crashed into each other in a spectacular explosion. It was very satisfying. Once he had gone high enough in the atmosphere that he had nearly left it, Dooku turned the ship, again, and started down back to the planet’s surface. “I think it would do you very well to take a short leave as “Master of the Order” and give yourself some time to explore the galaxy a bit. Just be a regular, normal Master for a time. You could take Depa with you on a Master / Padawan getaway.” He frowned when he noticed that Mace had his eyes closed and his hands were clenched into tight fists. “Mace? Are you listening to me? This is no time to sleep.”

“I’m not sleeping. I’m trying not to be ill.”

Concerned, Dooku took one hand off the ship’s controls and reached over to put a hand on Mace’s forehead. “Hmmm. You don’t feel like you have a fever.”

Mace swatted his hand away. “I’ll feel much better if you pay attention to where you’re flying!”

“Don’t you get sharp with me, young man,” Dooku reprimanded. He increased speed again. “There’s no need for a temper, after all. I think the stress of this mission is getting to you.” He was desperately trying not to think about his own stress. “A little meditation will do you wonders. Ah. Good. Here’s the ground.”

The ground was almost entirely barren of anything growing and was made mostly of rocks and dirt. As uninspiring as that was, the ground was exactly what Dooku needed. He increased speed one last time and mere yards before the ship might have rammed into the ground, Dooku pulled up sharply. As he did, he shot one blast from the Breeze’s single canon. It hit a thruster on one of the attacker’s ships, making it impossible for the ship to maneuver properly.

That damaged ship failed to pull up in time and crashed into the ground in a magnificent scene of fire and smoke and debris all flying through the air. A truly impressive cloud of dust and dirt rose up into the air around the impact zone. It was glorious.

The people on those ships died, but Dooku was well used to such things and, as far as he was concerned, if they hadn’t wanted to die, then they shouldn’t have gone after him. He landed the ship. “There is only one ship left. Let’s go see if we can end this quickly and get back to Plo,” Dooku closed down the ship, watching the last ship of their attackers land.

Mace got out of his seat, his lightsaber already in hand. He growled, “I thank all the stars in the sky that Qui-Gon taught Obi-Wan to fly!”

“Yes, I missed my chance with Obi-Wan. Still... little Ankain will need flying lessons in a couple of years.” It was a happy thought to look forward to. Had to make sure the lad could take care of himself at the helm of a ship, after all.

They exited the ship onto a cold world of rocks and sand. The sky was covered in clouds. For some reason, the whole place reeked of sugar.

Dooku ignited his lightsaber before their attackers finished leaving their ship. There were quite a few of them, though he noticed only a few wore armor. Each and every one of them had some form of blaster or rifle in their hands, aimed at Dooku and Mace.

Mace ignited his lightsaber and moved to stand next to Dooku. He called out to the attackers, “I strongly advise against this.”

The attackers kept a respectable distance away, clearly hoping that the bolts from their weapons could reach the Jedi before the Jedi reached them. None of the attackers answered Mace. One took a step forward and aimed their rifle at him.

Then there was a rush and a roar, noise so loud that it nearly made Dooku flinch. Everyone looked up to see two more ships landing. The ships were well cared for, far newer than either the attacker’s ship or the Breeze.

Dooku felt the smallest twinge of worry; he hadn’t thought their attackers would have more back up. He stayed close to Mace as the new ships completed their landing and a wide ramp opened on each of them, letting out ten Mandalorians.

One of the Mandalorians, dressed in grey armor with a touch of blue on their helmet, led their fellows closer to the confrontation between the Jedi and their attackers. That Mandalorian looked once at the Jedi, then turned to look at the people who’d chased Dooku and Mace to this lonely little planet.

And then the yelling started.

One of the newcomers yelled something in Mandalorian, jabbing a finger at the other armored people. Then another one of the newcomers yelled and another. Finally, their leader stepped forward and held up a hand. Everyone fell quiet and he spoke, in Basic.

“You have some nerve - wearing that garbage as if you were true Mando’ade! Name yourselves! You are not Mandalorian!”

A moment of silence filled the air before the attackers opened fire. The Mandalorians were not hesitant to join in the fighting. When blaster bolts were aimed at them, Dooku and Mace used their lightsabers to block them. At one point, one of the attackers pulled a small explosive from a pocket and Mace was at them. He leapt over several fighting people between himself and the attacker with the explosive. Once he landed, a single clean strike killed the attacker. Mace caught the explosive and quickly disarmed it before he slipped back through the crowd to Dooku.

Dooku raised his saber, prepared to enter the battle and end it as quickly as possible, but the leader of the newcomers came to him and nodded his head at Dooku. “Stay here, honored elder. We’ve got this.” Then he, too, dove into the fray.

Dooku blink, stunned. Elder? Why, Dooku was only barely seventy-three! The prime of his life!

The battle, which could hardly be called that, lasted less than five minutes.

When their attackers were dead, and the newcomers began to tidy up the battlefield of corpses because, apparently, it wouldn’t do to leave a mess laying around, the leader of the newcomers approached Dooku and Mace. He took off his helmet just as he reached them.

The leader was quite young. He could only be a few years older than Obi-Wan, though he was more heavily built. His skin was darkly tanned and he had serious, unhappy eyes. The young man gave a sharp nod to both of them. There was a faint accent to his words, almost unnoticeable, when he said, “Greetings from Mandalore, Masters Jedi. I am Jango Fett and I’ve been sent to escort you to Mandalore. There are two boys waiting for you.”

Dooku felt a knot of unease in his chest loosen. “They are well?”

There was a moment of hesitation before Fett answered, “They are alive, but they will be happier when they see you. We had thought this would be a simple escort mission.” He looked around at the field of the dead. “We had no idea you would have been ambushed by these cretins.”

“They aren’t Mandalorians, I take it?” Mace asked.

Fett snarled and made a sort of cutting motion with his hand. “No! This armor - this sorry excuse of a costume! - is fake. Clear as day!” He went to one of the fallen people and pointed to the middle of the breastplate. “See there? It’s blank. There should be a Kar’ta. A...a...” He seemed to struggle with the word. “There is no good translation into Basic. A heart of the armor.” He tapped a small, engraved hexagon on his own breastplate. “All armor has it and no armorer would forget something so important. Whoever made these costumes didn’t know what they were doing - their armor is fake and no real Mandalorian would wear fake armor. We’ll have their ship searched to find out what they were up to. Probably pirates. This area has a few bands of them.”

Mace frowned. “You killed them all without knowing what they were up to? That seems a bit rash. It's possible they were just trying to kill us." Mace said it so calmly. So many people did want to kill Jedi, after all. Attempts on their lives was nothing unusual for any Jedi who left the Temple.

Fett looked surprised at the question. He was quiet for a long moment and frowned before said, “I had them killed because they were trying to kill you. I just want to know why.”

Dooku and Mace exchanged a look. How surprising. Dooku couldn’t remember even a single time in his life when anyone but another Jedi had made any attempt to defend him. The idea that anyone would come to the defense of a Jedi... it was interesting. It was a breath of fresh air to know that there were people in the Universe who were willing to risk themselves to stand between a Jedi and a threat. Such kindness... such selflessness...

Dooku was instantly suspicious.

In his experience, people were not good to Jedi. They rarely even pretended to be polite.

Young Fett gestured to the ship he’d come from. “If you’ll come with me and - ”

Whatever young Fett was going to say was cut off when someone shouted, “Jan’ika, come see what I found!”

A short distance away, they came to one of young Fett’s people kneeling next to one of the fake Mandalorians. The fake Mandalorian wasn’t in good shape. His helmet had come off at some point to reveal a man of about thirty or so who appeared to be at least mostly human, though there were traces of something else. The man was unconscious, laying on his belly. Even in his state, he had a blaster firmly gripped in one hand.

“He’s alive,” the other Mandalorian told young Fett. “We should save a prisoner to be questioned.”

“Take him aboard your ship and give him what medical attention he needs, Isolna. By the time you get him back to Mandalore, he may be fit to be questioned. And get that ridiculous costume off him!” He turned to Mace and Dooku. “The crew of our second ship will stay here to investigate these people and their ship to see why you were attacked. Masters Jedi, please accompany us to Mandalore. Your children are waiting.”

To Be Continued...

Kar’ta - heart.

Ba’vodu - uncle

Manda - Heaven (I think)

Jetiise - multiple Jedi

Ade-children

Ad - child

Chapter Text

Chapter 48: News

En route to the boarder of the Mandalorian Empire-
Padme Amidala-

She sat in her small private room on the ship that took her away from Naboo to the place where they guessed Anakin and Obi-Wan might be. The transmitter in front her was, naturally, state of the art. A small, faintly glowing blue hologram hovered in the air above the projection unit.

“Your Majesty,” Chancellor Palpatine said, his voice soft and warm even though the mild distortion of a transmitter. “To what do I owe the pleasure? It’s been quite busy around here, but I’m always pleased to speak with you.”

“Thank you, Chancellor.” Padme nodded her head, acknowledging his polite greeting. “I wanted to inquire about our missing Jedi friends. Has there been any news from the Jedi Temple? Have they been found?”

Chancellor Palpatine sadly shook his head. “I’m sorry to tell you that I have had no information about them. It seems that the Jedi are being a bit tight-lipped about the situation. I must consider that they went missing so near to Mandalorian space and that some unnamed Mandalorian has, apparently, been following them. If they are growing so bold as to take Jedi, then no one in the Republic is safe. We must never forget that they are a savage, brutal people. They’re not civilized... not like us.”

Padme remembered school lessons about Mandalorians. Every child in the Republic who was able to go to school had been taught the horrors that the dreaded Mandalorians had committed in years gone by. She had learned, even before she’d met Palpatine, all about the Mandalorians. She had read about their violence and the unnecessary wars they’d started for no better reason than to further the reaches of their Empire. When she had begun her training in politics and Palpatine had become her mentor, he had made very sure to impress upon her the vileness of their ways.

“I have heard,” she said. “That their current ruler is a woman raised in the Republic. Do you think that has changed them?”

“Unlikely. It’s in the terrible way they raise their children, you see. However, we will attempt to contact the Mandalorians the moment the Solstice Storm ends to see if they know anything about those dear boys.” He grinned. “I don’t intend to lose them.”

“Will the Senate not send anyone to investigate? For all the speculation about the Mandalorians, we have no evidence that that’s where they are. They could just be marooned somewhere, waiting for help. They might have been captured by slavers. I have heard that Force sensitive children are considered valuable.”

He shrugged, helplessly. “We both know the Senate does not move swiftly.”

Padme did not allow her unhappiness with that answer to show on her face. “Surely in an emergency situation like this, you can use your new position to speed things along. After all the Jedi have done in service to the Republic over the years, we can’t just abandon them.”

“No. Of course not. But these things do take time and I wouldn’t want to abuse my authority by pushing forward a personal agenda. No matter how painful, we will simply have to wait for the Senate to agree to send out search parties.”

“I don’t see what there is to agree to. They are lost and need to be found. Who can disagree to that?”

“It’s not so much that they disagree that Obi-Wan and Anakin must be rescued, it’s that they can’t decide who gets credit for the rescue.”

Padme blinked and felt a headache coming on. “They’re arguing about who gets the credit?”

“I’m afraid so. Some of them seem to think that if they are the ones who bring the boys back, that the Jedi will owe them favors in the future.”

Padme had no reply for that. It wasn’t right, not at all. She took a moment to get over her own aggravation. She knew that the Senate should be above such nonsense, but she had been involved in politics long enough to know that very few were. “I am on my way to the last known location of the ship they were on. I’ll do my own investigating.”

“I knew you wouldn’t just sit idle while our friends needed help. I knew we could count on your initiative.” Palpatine smiled at her. “It’s come to my attention that a small contingent of Jedi are already out there, searching. If you find them, be a dear and let me know, won’t you? I’ve been trying to contact Master Dooku for a little while and it hasn’t been easy. I’ve known him for quite a while and I should very much like to know if anything’s happened to him. There are so many threats out there.”

“Of course.”

“And if you do run across Mandalorians, I hope you will flee. They are not a people to be trifled with.” He gave her a fond look. “You’re a good girl, Padme. No matter what the future brings, I want you to always remember that it was you - only you - who put me in the position I’m in.”

They said their farewells and Padme turned off the transmitter.

“Well,” Sabe said, standing just next to Padme. “What do you think of that?”

“I think that he seems convinced that the Mandalorians are to blame. We don’t know that the Mandalorian who was on Naboo killed our technician, only that there was a Mandalorian there at that time.” Padme turned away from the transmitter and faced the room full of her handmaidens. Some were fully dressed in the traditional red, hooded robes while some where still pinning their long hair back so it could be concealed fully under their hoods. Corde wore a long gown of shimmering gold. “I am disappointed in the Senate... again. It seems they can’t make a single decision without weeks of debates in committee and while I understand the necessity of letting everyone have a voice about major decisions, this is a rescue mission. It shouldn’t be so hard for everyone to agree to rescue two people, one of them a little child!”

Corde, letting Rabe do her hair, said, “If you ask me, he wants a war with the Mandalorians.”

“Why would he want that?” Padme asked, horrified by the idea.

“They aren’t as powerful as they used to be, not like the history lessons tells us they were in their glory days. There have been countless civil wars and infighting, their population has been severely reduced. If the Republic wanted them struck down, this would be a good time to do it before a competent leader took control of them.” Corde put on her earrings. “And as for why... who knows? I expect it has something to do with the fact that he’s in control of the Republic and the Mandalorians are really the only serious competition the Republic has. He probably wants them gone before they can cause him trouble.”

“The same could be achieved with diplomacy,” Padme pointed out.

Corde rolled her eyes. “Yes, but diplomacy required give and take and I don’t think he’s too keen on the ‘giving’ part of that equation.”

“He’s a good man.”

There was a terrible silence in the room. All the handmaidens exchanged knowing looks.

“What?” Padme asked. “What’s that look for?”

Sabe said, “The Chancellor spent many, many years as Naboo’s senator and many years as your tutor and head advisor, both of which positions gave him a great deal of power. He didn’t have to take those positions or stay in them. The fact that he did suggests he likes the power. He just thanked you for making him Chancellor -”

“But I didn’t,” Padme objected. “The Senate voted for him.”

“You were rather instrumental in all that. It is safe to suggest that you are responsible for his rise in power. Now that he has what is, basically, ultimate power in the Republic, he’s solidifying that power. I expect that he doesn’t want to alienate any of the senators by forcing a decision about our missing Jedi until he feels secure in his position and, by constantly reminding everyone how dangerous and terrible the Mandalorians are, he is planning for the future.”

Rabe said, “Yes, he’ll want to start a war when the Mandalorians are weak. He’ll wipe them out and then there will be no outside forces to threaten his power except, possibly, the Hutts and he’ll think he can just pay them off if they get ambitious.”

Sabe agreed, nodding her head. “Yes. And he didn’t even try to discourage you from going into a dangerous situation - not that we’d let anything happen to you. If you find our Jedi alive and well, then it’s no harm to him. If we find that they have been killed, he’ll lay the blame on the Mandalorians and get you to make an official statement condemning the Mandalorians. That official statement will make it easier for him, in the future, to start the war he wants. If you are killed by the Mandalorians, it would be very easy to convince the senators that a war was necessary, if only to protect their own lives. No matter how this situation turns out, allowing you to go on this search without protest works out very well for him.”

What they said made a great deal of sense. Disappointed in a man she respected, Padme could only say, “We don’t know that’s what he’s trying to do.”

Sabe gave her a comforting pat on the shoulder. “We might not know, but we all strongly suspect. So, are we going to flee, as he suggests, if we find Mandalorians?”

“What? No. Of course not. Nothing gets solved by backing down from a challenge.” She would have to keep a closer eye on the decisions the Chancellor made in the future to see if her handmaidens were right. They probably were... they usually were. “Corde, that looks lovely,” she said, taking a minute to admire Corde’s disguise. She went to the small selection of ornate clothes and headdresses she traveled with. “Now... what would I wear to rescue some Jedi? Ah. Yes.” She selected a grand headdress crowned with long plumes of green and blue feathers. “Yes, I would definitely wear feathers to rescue Jedi.”

With Corde masquerading as Queen Amidala, and Padme dressed in the red robe of a handmaiden, they all went to the command deck of the ship when they approached the area where they suspected they might find Obi-Wan and Anakin.

The captain of the ship said to Corde, “The storm is nearly over, Your Majesty. Our timing was almost perfect. If they were trapped in it, we’ll find them.” He gave the order for all hands to be on the lookout - for a ship or for wreckage - and they slowed the ship’s speed to prevent missing anything. He had the communications officer send out a repeating message, hoping that Obi-Wan’s ship would receive the message and reply.

For a very long while, all was quiet.

The Solstice Storm ended.

After a long, stressful wait, one of the technicians on the command deck said, “Captain, I have readings from a nearby planet that suggests there are life forms there - what might be people as well as a few ships. Our records say that the planet is uninhabited without any natural resources at all. There shouldn’t be anyone there.”

Less than five minutes later, the ship landed on the little planet and Padme’s mouth tightened into a thin line.

Mandalorians.

She could see them clearly from the command deck’s view screen. There were a few ships, armored people, a great many bodies on the ground, and, in the middle of all of it, two figures in the traditional brown robes of the Jedi.

Padme, out of habit, touched a hand to each of the blasters she wore under her robe - one on each hip - then looked around at her people. “We’re not going out there for a fight. We’re going to keep this as peaceful as possible, so keep your hands away from your weapons unless we are attacked. Is that understood?”

There was a chorus of, “Yes, Corde.”

Only the handmaidens left the ship. The crew and Corde, ‘the Queen’, stayed aboard for their own safety.

The Mandalorians were a fearsome sight. In any normal circumstance, Padme felt entirely safe as long as she had her wildly overprotective handmaidens at her sides, but standing in front of a group of Mandalorians was not something to be taken lightly and she felt a small trickle of unease as she walked off the ramp of her ship.

The first thing Padme noticed upon leaving her ship was that the Mandalorians - only eight of them, surprisingly - had all but surrounded the Jedi, their rifles and blasters raised at the ready, but not one of them was aiming at the Jedi.

Her eyes darted to the two Jedi, but they weren’t the boys she had hoped to find. One of the Jedi she didn’t recognize. He was an older, distinguished looking gentleman with steel gray hair and a long, severe nose. He was very tall and stern looking with eyes that were sharp and unforgiving. The second Jedi she did recognize, though she had never met him.

She and her handmaidens walked as close as they dared, cautious of setting off whatever situation was going on. She opened her mouth to speak when one of the Mandalorians, one in plain armor with blue on his helmet, said, “What do you want?”

Padme eyed that one, then looked back at the Jedi. While the Mandalorians were on edge, the Jedi seemed perfectly calm. “I wanted to speak with him,” she pointed at Master Windu. “Why? Is there a problem here?”

The Mandalorian whipped off his helmet. He was quite young, though years older than she was. She guessed he was older than Obi-Wan, too, though she might be wrong. Obi-Wan might just look younger because he was smaller. This Mandalorian was not terribly tall, but he was built solidly. “I am Jango Fett. These Jedi are in my custody. There is a problem if you plan to take them out of my custody.” His face set in a stern glower, he took three steps towards Padme.

The handmaidens around her tensed, ready to defend.

Padme raised her chin, determined not to back down.

Jango Fett, getting a first good look at her face, very suddenly let out a rather annoyed sounding snort. “What are you? Twelve?”

“I’m fourteen!”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me! What’s wrong with Republic people?” He turned away from Padme and her handmaidens. “Everyone, false alarm! Get back to work!” The Mandalorians set back to whatever they were doing and Jango Fett looked back at Padme. His glare softened, a bit. “Where are your parents?”

Master Windu stepped up to them. “If I might interrupt? Jango Fett, these are the handmaidens of Queen Amidala of Naboo, well-trained fighters and not to be dismissed carelessly because of their youth, unless I’m much mistaken.” But there was something in his eyes when he looked at her that told Padme he knew exactly who she was and had decided not to give away her masquerade. “How may I help you?”

“We had detected life forms on this planet that, supposedly, shouldn’t be here. We just came to see if everything was alright.” She watched Master Windu for any sign that there was something amiss, but he seemed perfectly calm and poised. There wasn’t a hint of distress. But then, would she know if a Jedi was distressed?

Master Windu smiled when he told her, “That’s very kind of you. We are unharmed. We were attacked and these brave warriors rescued us. Thank you for your concern.”

“Quite right,” the older Jedi said, briskly. “I should like to get a move on. We are on a rescue mission, after all. If your Queen,” he gave Padme a knowing look with a raised eyebrow that told her clearly enough that he, too, knew her secret and she had to wonder if the whole Jedi Order knew. “Wants to know our business, these warriors are here to take us to two of our missing younglings so that we might bring them home. We are going with them of our own free will.”

Padme’s heart leapt. That was all but confirmation that Obi-Wan and Anakin were alive and safe. She glanced at Master Windu, who nodded.

“Very well,” Padme said, bowing her head. “I will take this message to Queen Amidala. I wish you great fortune.” She stepped back to be out of the way and watched as the Mandalorians finished cleaning up their battlefield.

“Not so fast.” Jango Fett was scowling at her, again. “You think I’m going to let a bunch of kids just meander away?” He gestured sharply to Padme’s ship. “You got an actual adult in there?”

Padme thought of those lessons she’d had about Mandalorians as Jango Fett stood in front of her. Either the Mandalorians had changed greatly in the past few decades, the lessons she’d been taught had been entirely wrong, or Jango was a very peculiar Mandalorian. “The captain of the ship is waiting for us and -”

“Let’s see ‘em!”

It took reassurance from Master Windu that it was normal for the Naboo people to elect a very young Queen which usually resulted in very young handmaidens and a vow from the Captain of Padme’s ship that he would see all the handmaidens directly home, to convince Jango Fett that he didn’t need to leave one of his warriors in charge to accompany them back to Naboo.

Padme watched from the ramp of her ship while the two Jedi Masters were escorted into one of the Mandalorian ships without any fuss or bother. That ship took off and sped away and, within seconds, it was out of sight. The second ship stayed longer. The battlefield was left neat and tidy. The remaining four Mandalorians divided into two groups. Two of them boarded their ship while the other two boarded the ship of the attackers. The two ships took off and, within seconds, Padme’s ship was the only one left on that nameless little planet.

When all was quiet and she was sure there was nothing else to be learned there, she and her handmaidens turned to go back into her ship. It was only pure chance that she happened to see a small glint of something shiny in the sunlight. When she went off to see what it was, she found a small personal transmitter on the ground.

It was a small thing and badly charred from a blaster strike. Padme picked up the little box-like communicator and turned it over in her hands. There were no markings on it to determine whether it was of Mandalorian or Republic make, no sign of who might have owned it. But it was cheap, the sort of thing one bought to use only once or twice before one threw it away. She pressed the ‘audio’ button on the box, but instead of a message, or an image on the little screen, there was nothing but static.

Whatever it was, its’ memory had been erased.

Padme tucked the transmitter into a pocket of her robe.

The minute she stepped back onto the ship, she hurried to her room to discuss what had happened with her handmaidens, but once she was alone with them, Corde said, “Padme, I think you should listen to this. It was broadcast while you were outside and I recorded it. I had it translated into Basic.” She pressed a button on the transmission station to replay what she’d recorded. It was an audio only recording.

“Good morning Mandalore!”

Padme blinked at the loud, almost yelling, voice that Corde had recorded.

“It’s another great day on the Parent Planet of Mandalore and you know I mean it! The sun is bright, the sky is blue, and the sand is hot. The Solstice Storm has ended and a great new year has begun. May all of you hip tookas out there have a fine year whether you’re farming, hunting, or planning a killing!” There was loud, rancorous laughter over the audio transmission.

“Corde?” Padme asked, puzzled. “What is this?”

“A transmission from Mandalore. It appears to be a public audio transmission station that gets various news items and entertainment to people. This transmission reaches to all corners of the Mandalorian Empire and, obviously, into Republic space if you know how to get the right transmission frequency. Just listen. You’ll want to hear this.”

Padme turned back to the transmitter and listened.

“We are your hosts - Doman Li and, myself, Kriiak Brunnon - here to bring you the best of MLN - Mando Live News!” The host, Kriiak Brunnon, was loud. Obnoxiously, gratingly loud. He spoke quickly and one could almost hear the exclamation point at the end of every sentence. “We are going to start this year off with news so big, that it’ll make a supernova sit up and take notice! Those of you not in the arms of our great Empire during the Solstice Storm may not know it, but we have had a change in leadership!”

Padme abruptly sat forward.

“That’s right! You heard it here first and our new Mand’alor, the warrior who holds our lives and our futures in his hands is none other than the former Journeyman Protector, Jaster Mereel of Clan Mereel! Let’s all give him our warmest wishes because this man will make us or break us! This does come as a blow to the self-styled New Mandalorians, but it appears that Duchess Kryze, the head of the New Mandalorians, has taken her demotion in stride as she was seen at the Festival of Stars sporting a very fashionable armorweave cloak. Her cloak was done in a retro style reminiscent of the glamorous renaissance more than two hundred years ago with its ankle-length hem and an exaggerated hood. She looked positively trendy.”

Padme looked at Corde and frowned. “What sort of news is this?”

“Hush. Just listen.”

“Duchess Kryze, who had infamously not worn armor for her entire duration on Mandalore, was not only seen in armorweave, but proudly proclaimed at the Festival of Stars that it was Jaster Mereel himself - her own usurper! - who gave her the cloak. What can this mean? We’ll leave it up to your imaginations. If you have any guesses, feel free to call them in and let everyone know!”

Satine rolled her eyes. The news of a new ruler of the Mandalorian Empire was important, but she really didn’t care for gossip. She did approve if Mereel hadn’t executed the young Duchess - as she heard that some civilizations did - but everything else just seemed like an invitation for wild rumors.

The host kept talking. “And if we’re going to get into more sensational news, how many of you out there know about our two Jedi children? That’s right, we have a pair of little Jedi on Mandalore.”

Padme narrowed her eyes at the transmitter.

“We will, naturally, keep their names confidential for the sake of their privacy. While we don’t know the whole story, skuttlebug round the smithy says these two appeared in Keldabe with Mand’alor Mereel and were immediately taken to the infirmary of the Fortress. When we reached out to Jaster Mereel for a comment he said, and I quote,

“It’s none of your business. Go away.”

We admire that sort of forthright attitude in a Mand’alor! It is rumored that the Jedi children were also at the Festival of Stars, apparently taking time to learn our culture while getting some roasted fruit on sticks. What are they doing here? Does this herald some sort of threat to the Empire? Does the Republic use children as spies? Or are they just here on vacation? We may never know, but we do know that they’re well-liked not only by Mand’alor Mereel, but also by most of the staff of the Fortress.

We have quotes ranging from, “Leave them alone and get out of the way, I’m busy.” right to, “You ask too many questions. Go near those boys and I’ll skin you.”

It seems that Mandalore has made some new Jedi friends. It can only be hoped that we’ll make a few more if the grown-up Jedi come for their little ones. And if you haven’t heard the whispers from the public when it comes to their thoughts on potential visits from adult Jedi, then where have you been? The old stories of Jedi in combat spring to mind, their speed and strength, their calm nature under pressure and ... whew! It’s getting a little warm in here. We’d better change subjects.”

The second host, Doman Li, spoke up. “Don’t be like that, you’ll give our listeners a bad impression. How about we talk about the sudden silence from Death Watch. There hasn’t been a word heard from them since Mand’alor Mereel formally took power. Are they waiting to see what his policies will be? Waiting to see how he deals with outsiders and the former government of the New Mandalorians? Or are they just plain scared now that there is a full-grown adult warrior on the throne rather than an untrained little girl? Mand’alor Mereel doesn’t seem at all scared of the threat of Death Watch when he said to one of our fine journalists,

“Let ‘em come! I’ll take ‘em all on at once!”

Such a fine example of Mandalorian confidence, wouldn’t you say?”

Kriiak Brunnon answered, “Absolutely. Makes one proud to be a Mando! Join us at the midday broadcast for a more in depth look at our new Mand’alor - his hobbies, his past victories, and his favorite recipe for grilled brachen. There’s also the all-important question - does our Mand’alor have a spouse? NO! No, he does not! He’s as free as bird. So, all you unattached verd out there - go get yourselves ready for a rip-roaring fight if you want to catch the attention of the most eligible bachelor since Tarre Vizsla himself set foot on Mandalore.”

“And now,” Doman Li said, “Let’s head over to Concord Dawn where the Junior League Rock Ball game is under way. There are currently three members of the Rising Sun team unconscious, which puts the Rockets team ahead with only two unconscious members. For those foundlings new to this life, with rock ball, the rules are simple - throw rocks at the opposing team and the first team unconscious loses. It’s a good time for all the youngsters out there looking for a team sport to join.”

Corde turned off the broadcast.

“Obi-Wan and Anakin are alive,” Padme said, a small smile settling on her lips for the first time in weeks. “The Mandalorians are sure of it and even their media hints at it. I can’t imagine there are too many Jedi youths on Mandalore.” She sat back in her seat and felt a knot of anxiety in her gut start to ease. “Thank all that is gracious.”

“Will we make any attempt to get them out of Mandalorian territory?” Sabe asked.

Immediately, Padme shook her head. “All seems well. They are willing to help the Jedi and Master Windu was completely at ease and trusting of them. This could be an excellent start to something new. Good relations between the Mandalorian Empire and the Republic should be thoroughly encouraged, especially as we don’t know much about this new Mand’alor.”

“Well,” Sabe said. “We know he doesn’t like talking to journalists.”

Padme snorted a laugh. “Aside from that.”

“He’s got good fashion sense when it comes to cloaks?”

“Aside from that, too! Be serious, won’t you?” Her first thought was to call the Chancellor and tell him, but she hesitated. Her handmaidens' warnings about Chancellor Palpatine made sense. Perhaps she needed to be a bit more cautious when telling him things. “The Jedi should know what we’ve learned. Who knows if Master Windu will be able to contact them any time soon? He’s likely to be very busy for a while.” Mind made up, Padme tapped the transmission code into the transmitter and waited. She knew the code for the Jedi Temple, though she had been told that it was rude to contact them directly and that all inquiries for help should be directed to the Senate. Of course, Padme would normally comply, if that was what the Jedi wished, but she didn’t need help. She merely wanted to give them the good news about Obi-Wan and Anakin.

There were a few moments of silence while the transmission went through to Coruscant, but when an automated reply came back, it made Padme frown.

“Thank you for contacting the Jedi Temple. May your life be blessed with tranquility and your mind with curiosity. Know that you are important to us. We care. However, it is with heavy hearts that we must tell you that our communication system is currently offline and we will not be able to reply to your communication at this moment. Your call will be returned in the order in which it was received. May the Force be with you and have a lovely day.”

For a long while Padme frowned at the transmitter. “No matter. We’ll head over to Coruscant and find out what’s going on at the Temple.”

Meanwhile, on Mandalore -

Obi-Wan Kenobi stopped breathing.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

A/N: Dear Readers, there will be no new chapter for the next two weeks.

Chapter 49: “Welcome to Mandalore.”

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
The Fortress-
Jaster’s Rooms-

Anakin-

Something was wrong.

Anakin’s eyes sprung open.

Something was very wrong.

In the sleeping pit, Anakin sat up and looked around. His heart was beating very fast. It was morning, he could see a little of the morning sunlight coming in through one of the narrow windows. He was alone. Everything was quiet. He couldn’t hear any fighting or yelling. Something was wrong. Everything looked alright, but there was something pulling and pushing at him, telling him to get up.

It was probably Force stuff. Obi said it could be weird sometimes.

Anakin got out of the sleeping pit and, rubbing his sleepy eyes, went into the main room of Boss Jaster’s home.

“Obi?” Anakin went to Obi-Wan, sleeping on the couch. He’d said he was too tired to get in and out of the sleeping pit so Boss Jaster was nice enough to let him sleep on the couch. Anakin shook Obi-Wan’s arm. “Obi. Wake up. The Force is being funny and I got a bad feeling.”

Obi-Wan just lay there. He didn’t even open his eyes.

“Obi, come on. Wake up.” Anakin shook his arm, again.

Still... nothing.

The ‘something wrong’ feeling grew like thorns in Anakin’s head.

“Obi? Please?”

There was a terrible coldness around Anakin’s heart. He was afraid. He was so afraid. His hand shook when he reached out and put it on Obi-Wan’s chest.

Anakin threw himself away from Obi-Wan and bolted to Boss Jaster’s room. He banged hard on the door with both fists. “Boss! Help!”

Boss Jaster was there in an instant, wearing nothing more than his undersuit and the ever-present vambrace on his arm. “What? What?” He looked around, wildly, a blaster in each hand even as he looked nearly asleep with half-closed eyes and messy white hair.

“It’s Obi,” Anakin told him, jabbing a finger at Obi-Wan. “He’s dead! He’s not breathing!”

Boss Jaster instantly looked alert and wake. He dashed to Obi-Wan, getting on his knees beside the couch. He touched Obi-Wan’s throat and his chest. “Ken’ika? Ken’ika? Can you hear me?” He tried shaking Obi-Wan, just like Anakin had, then gave Obi-Wan’s face a couple of light slaps. “Right. Right then. An’ika,” he said without looking at Anakin. “Go to Satine. Go now!” Even as he said it, he slid both arms under Obi-Wan and pulled him down onto the floor. Then he smacked a hand on the vambrace he wore. “Medical emergency! Mand’alor’s room! Get here now!”

Anakin backed away, then turned and ran to the door of Sissy Satine’s room. Unlike with Boss Jaster, he pushed open Sissy Satine’s door without hesitation and ran to the edge of her sleeping pit where she was already waking up.

“Anakin? What’s going -”

“Obi’s dead!”

Sissy Satine sprang out of the sleeping pit. She took Anakin’s hand and together they went into the other room. Boss Jaster was pressing hard and quickly on Obi-Wan’s chest, then he would stop and put his mouth on Obi-Wan’s and blew air into Obi-Wan’s mouth.

“Anakin,” Sissy Satine said, urgently. “Did Jaster call for help?”

With a nod of his head, Anakin said, “Yeah. He said ‘medical emergency’.”

“That’s good. I’m going to help Jaster. You need to go hold the door open so that when help gets here, they won’t have to take time to open the door. Can you do that? Go hold the door open?”

Anakin barked out, “Yeah! I can! I can do it!” He went to the door and push it open. He stayed there, looking down the hall to where he knew the infirmary was, then turned and looked back in the room. He saw Sissy Satine on the floor next to Boss Jaster and Obi-Wan.

Sissy Satine said, “You’re stronger than me - you do the chest compressions. I’ll breathe.”

Boss Jaster didn’t reply, but he did move so Sissy Satine could kneel next to Obi-Wan’s head. He put both hands on Obi-Wan’s chest, then started to push so hard that Anakin thought it must have hurt. That went on for a few seconds, then he would stop and Sissy Satine blew a couple of breaths of air into Obi-Wan’s mouth. Boss Jaster touched Obi-Wan’s throat, then his chest. “No pulse or breathing. Keep going!” And they started the process, again.

“Hello, what are you doing out here, little one?”

Anakin looked up to find a Mandalorian he’d never seen before standing in the hall, watching him, curiously.

“Go away!” Aankin shouted. “You’re blocking the hall! Go! Go!” He waved his hands at the Mandalorian who didn’t have the decency to look at all scared.

Aranar - who had woken up during all the commotion - stalked through the door and put itself in front of Anakin. It growled and showed its’ teeth to the stranger.

“Now, there’s nothing to be alarmed about,” the Mandalorian said. “I’m not gonna hurt you. Is something wrong?”

“The Doctor’s coming and you’re in the way!”

About that time, several other people started to appear, all of them looking concerned, and Anakin opened his mouth to yell at everyone when another shout - so deep and loud that it vibrated against the stone walls of the Fortress - silenced everyone. “Medical emergency! Move!”

Every person in the hall instantly jumped, pressing their backs against the walls of the hall and giving Doctor Gihan and a human-looking person walking with him who carried a stretcher an easy path down the middle of the hall. Doctor Gihan saw him. “Where are they, Anakin?”

“Inside!” Anakin scuttled out of the way so he wasn’t blocking the door and pointed into Boss Jaster’s apartment. “They’re in there! Hurry!”

Doctor Gihan didn’t waste any more time with words, but went straight in with the human-looking person. Anakin followed them and closed the door behind them. He stayed near the door and watched because he couldn’t do anything else.

Boss Jaster yelled, “Pulse! He’s got a pulse and he’s breathing!”

Doctor Gihan barked out, “Move!”

Just like the people in the hall had, Boss Jaster leapt backwards, away from Obi-Wan. Sissy Satine fell backwards and inched herself away. When they had given him a clear space, Doctor Gihan set a bag down next to Obi-Wan and began to examine him. He took a scanner out of his bag and ran it up and down Obi-Wan’s body. He muttered something to the person who’d come with him then asked Boss Jaster a few questions that Anakin didn’t understand.

“I want him in the infirmary, now. Immediately.”

The person who’d come with Doctor Gihan set down the stretcher on the floor next to Obi-Wan. It was very simple - two metal poles with a long length of tough fabric stretched between them. They carefully put Obi-Wan on the stretcher and picked him up. In seconds, they were gone and the room was left in silence. Sissy Satine was the first to move. She pulled herself up onto the couch Obi-Wan had been sleeping on. Boss Jaster got to his feet, but just stood in the middle of the room.

Sissy Satine held out a hand to Anakin. “Anakin, dear, come sit with me. You did a good job. You were very brave.”

Anakin didn’t feel brave. His hands were shaking. Slowly, Anakin did go to Sissy Satine and he sat on the couch next to her, but only because he had no idea what else to do and it was strangely comforting to have someone tell him what to do in that moment. He put his hands on his lap.

“I want you both to stay here,” Boss Jaster said after a long while. His voice was soft, softer than Anakin had ever heard it. He was almost whispering. “If Doctor Gihan says Ken’ika can have visitors, I’ll send for you, but please stay here for now.” He looked at Anakin. “I know you want to see him right away, but it’s important to let Doctor Gihan work. Understand?”

“Yes, Boss Jaster.”

Boss Jaster left and Anakin was left alone with Sissy Satine and Aranar, pacing around the room in agitation. Anakin felt a lot better as he watched Aranar pace around, like it was guarding them or something.

Anakin’s face was warm. He raised a hand to touch his face and felt wetness there. He sniffled and looked up at Satine. “I told Obi I’d cry if he died. But he came back to life, so I shouldn’t cry. I’m so happy he’s not dead anymore.”

With a slow nod, Sissy Satine said, “My feelings are pretty mixed up right now, too. I think I’ll have a cry.” Her eyes were red and glassy.

Aranar climbed up on the couch and lay down, draping its body across both Sissy Satine and Anakin’s laps.

“Don’t tell Obi I was scared, okay? He worries.”

“I won’t. Go ahead and cry. I think we both deserve it after this morning.”

Anakin nodded his agreement before he burst into loud, messy tears.

The Infirmary-
Obi-Wan-

Obi-Wan woke slowly. His mind felt like it was full of fog. His chest hurt. “Wha...?”

The Infirmary. He was in the infirmary, again. He could hear the soft noises of various equipment and smell the disinfectant. He turned his head to one side and saw Doctor Gihan standing at the door of his office, staring into nothing in front of him. He turned his head the other way and saw Jaster - dressed in nothing but his undersuit and a vambrace - sitting at the side of Obi-Wan’s bed. Jaster was hunched over, his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands.

Obi-Wan licked his dry lips. “What’s wrong?”

Jaster looked up, sharply. He managed a weak smile and took Obi-Wan’s hand. “You’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Tired. I think I’ll go back to sleep.”

“No!” Doctor Gihan was suddenly right with them. “You stay awake until I tell you otherwise! Answer Jaster - how do you feel? Other than tired?”

He considered mentioning his aching chest, but he was pretty sure it was just a broken rib or two. In his experience, broken ribs usually healed on their own which meant they weren’t something that he was terribly concerned with. He decided to keep quiet about it rather than getting people more upset. “Just tired. What happed?”

“You died.”

Obi-Wan stared at Jaster. “Did I?”

“You weren’t breathing and your heart stopped. Anakin found you like that and woke me.”

Obi-Wan went lightheaded with fear. The fear he’d felt when he’d first realized he was dying of Arkon Poisoning had never really gone away, no matter how he’d tried to release the emotion into the Force. It had been easy to put the fear aside when Anakin need him so much and when he knew it was his duty to help the Jedi’s relationship with the Mandalorians, but the fear had never gone. And he had died. He had never felt so fragile and he detested the feeling.

Obi-Wan swallowed and pushed it all away. He hesitantly said, “Well... ah... I’m okay now.”

Jaster teared up.

Doctor Gihan patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder. “That’s right. You are okay now, but it was close.”

“We had to resuscitate you,” Jaster told Obi-Wan. He rubbed his eyes. “Three minutes. It took three minutes to bring you back.”

Doctor Gihan stepped away from Obi-Wan’s bedside and sat in a chair nearby.

Jaster took Obi-Wan’s hand. He gave it a squeeze and Obi-Wan was suddenly very aware of how big Jaster was. “I know you have a family that you love. I would never try to take you from them. Never. But I do care for you, very much. I wanted you to know - if you didn’t already have a family who loved you, a family that you love, I would take you as my own child. Do you understand? I would ask to adopt you.”

Obi-Wan blinked a few times. “Oh. Oh... really?” A flare of happiness warmed his heart. “That’s... well.” He was pretty sure he was blushing with happiness. “I’m honored, I really am. I understand what that means in your culture and if I didn’t have family, I would accept. But... you must know, I’m a Jedi. I can’t be anything else.”

“I know. I would never take you away from the people you love, but I wanted you to know that, even when you’re away from them, you’re not alone. You have people here who care for you.”

It made Obi-Wan happy. So happy. To be so cared about that Jaster would actually want to make Obi-Wan part of his family.... he never thought anyone outside the Order could think so well of him. Obi-Wan didn’t try to move his hand away from Jaster’s. He trusted Jaster, liked him, even. Jaster had proved his kindness and his worth so many times since they’d met. Obi-Wan made a decision, though he nearly trembled at his own audacity of making that particular decision.

“You really have been so good to us.”

Jaster grimaced. “I wish I had been better. Anakin was attacked, both of you were injured during the Death Watch attack, your poor braid...”

“Never mind that. You weren’t responsible for any of that. I have rarely been treated this well when I leave the Temple. You’ve been so kind and respectful. I want to... well. Really, I should be asking a Master to do this, but - Jaster, I would like to give you permission to call me ‘Obi-Wan’. If you want to. You don’t have to, of course. It’s just an idea, really. Just a passing thought. You can ignore me and -”

“Obi-Wan... I am honored you think so highly of me.” Jaster bowed his head a little. He didn’t let go of Obi-Wan’s hand, as if afraid he’d suddenly lose Obi-Wan if he released him.

It was the first time Obi-wan had ever allowed an adult outside the Order to call him by his name and he was pleased with his choice. It felt entirely right. He might even allow Jango to use his name, too. “You know, Anakin is my little brother. It’s not legal, in any way. We just sort of decided it. I don’t think things need to always be formal and proper for them to be right. He is my brother in every way that matters.”

“When we all first arrived on Mandalore, you said that you two had adopted each other.”

Obi-Wan nodded. “I know what Mandalorian adoption is. I know there is a ritual phrase, that must be spoken for an adoption to be legal. In the Republic there is paperwork, fees, and a court system to be navigated before an adoption can be legal. Anakin and I didn’t have any of that. To Mandalore and the Republic, Anakin and I aren’t brothers, but it’s real for us. It matters and it’s important - even if some will say that it’s only pretend.”

Jaster squeezed Obi-Wan’s hand, again. “Then... for only pretend... may I call you my child?”

“I’d like that.”

Jaster gave Obi-Wan a somewhat watery smile. “In that case - I know you as my child in every way that matters, Obi-Wan Kenobi.” It should have been spoken in Mando’a. The words weren’t quite right. It didn’t matter. It was only pretend.

A parent. He had a parent. He’d never thought too much about having one, other than wondering if things might have been different for him if his parents hadn’t tried to murder him. He loved being Jedi, he loved his family at the Temple and he loved the idea that someday, in the future, he would have his own Padawan to teach and protect and care for. But to have someone want to be his parent, yet care enough not to force what Obi-Wan couldn’t give... it felt quite nice.

The vambrace Jaster wore suddenly started beeping. Jaster tapped a button on it and a voice came out of it.

“Hey, Jaster.”

“Kal?”

“I’m inbound to Mandalore, now, and I’ve got a Jetii standing in the corner of the command deck.”

Jaster’s eyes went wide and he stood up. “Meet you at the Landing Field.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “It’s been hard day for you. Think you can make it out to the Landing Field if I do the hard work?”

While Obi-Wan didn’t know what Jaster meant by ‘doing the hard work’, he eagerly nodded. He would make it to the Landing Field if he had to crawl! While he thought he’d been handling himself pretty well since Naboo, he really, really wanted to see another Jedi. Someone to lean on and someone who could understand what it meant to lose his connection with the Force... someone who knew what it meant to have his braid stolen... someone he could talk to about Master Qui-Gon.

“Right,” Jaster stood up and looked at Doctor Gihan. “Vo, you'll let Sat’ika and An’ika know?”

“Will do.” Doctor Gihan started to take off several sensors that had been stuck to Obi-Wan’s chest and his head. “Take my jet pack to get there faster.” As Jaster put Doctor Gihan’s jet pack on, Doctor Gihan helped Obi-Wan to sit up - which was disturbingly hard. “Jaster, you be careful with him. The last thing he needs is to be dropped.”

“I’m not going to drop him!” In one swift movement, Jaster scooped Obi-Wan up and carried him out of the infirmary. They went through the halls of the Fortress quickly, but still managed to get quite a lot of attention that Jaster managed to completely ignore. At the main door of the Fortress, Jaster took flight. Across the city they flew, Jaster staring ahead with a fearsome intensity.

Obi-Wan looked behind them and saw they were being followed. He guessed that some of them might have been people from the Fortress, but even as he watched, they gathered a few more followers from the city.

Jaster stopped flying when they reached the city gates - the Glass Gates - but landed only long enough to walk through the gates before he flew the rest of the way to the Landing Field. At the Landing Field, he kept holding Obi-Wan as they, and everyone who’d followed them - a good three dozen people - stared up at the sky. Jaster patted Obi-Wan’s shoulder as he held him and said, “Just a few more minutes. Kal is very reliable. It’s just a few more minutes and your Jetii will be here.”

The crowd slowly went quiet. Everyone stared up at the sky. The minutes ticked by.

“There!” Jaster shouted and Obi-Wan looked. There, just coming into view through the high clouds, was a tiny black dot. It grew larger and larger as it approached the surface of Mandalore.

The ship was close, perhaps only fifty feet from the ground, when the ramp opened. The ship was close enough for Obi-Wan to see a tall, narrow figure dressed in a Jedi robe step out onto the open ramp. He could see the flapping and rippling of the brown robe as it was moved almost violently by the wind. The Jedi stood there for a moment, then stepped off the ramp.

“He’s falling!” Someone in the crowd shouted. Several Mandalorians stepped forward, as if they were going to rescue him, but there was no danger. Jedi knew how to fall; Obi-Wan had learned such lessons early in his training. To fall from fifty feet was no great trick for a Jedi Master as one merely had to slow the descent and cushion the landing. The Jedi hit the ground and landed in a crouch with one hand touching the ground for balance and the other arm occupied by holding something. The very moment he landed, he quickly bounced to his feet and started running. He ran very quickly and Obi-Wan guessed that it was impressive as the Mandalorians around them started muttering things like,

“Wow.”

“He’s actually kicking up a cloud of dust, he’s moving so fast!”

“Did you see that fall? No jet pack and he just stepped out into mid-air like it was nothing!”

The Jedi ran so fast that in a moment he was close enough for Obi-Wan to see him clearly - Master Koon. Master Koon didn’t seem to notice the Mandalorians. While Obi-Wan didn’t have even the slightest contact with the Force, he knew that Master Koon was focused on him, was racing towards him.

Master Koon ran directly to them and stopped only when he stood in front of Jaster. He took from under his arm a sturdy looking box which he set in mid-air and it stayed there, floating. The Force was a wonderful thing. The box hung in mid-air and Master Koon opened it. He took out a syringe and held it in one clawed hand, then used his other hand to push up one of Obi-Wan’s sleeves to expose his forearm. He jabbed Obi-Wan with the needle and injected him with what Obi-Wan knew was the antidote to Arkon Poisoning.

He was saved.

A moment passed.

Everything was silent.

Finally, Master Koon took the syringe away from Obi-Wan and put it back into its case. He closed the case and tucked it under his arm, again. Then he looked at Obi-Wan and, despite the heavy mask he wore, Obi-Wan knew he was smiling. Master Koon bowed to him. “Good morning, Padawan Kenobi. I am very happy to see you.”

Still safe and secure in Jaster’s arms, Obi-Wan did his best to bow in return. “Good morning, Master Koon. Welcome to Mandalore.”

End of Part 1

A/N: This is the end of part one of this story. I realize some of you may be wondering if this story will ever end as it’s been going on for so long. I assure you that not only do I know how it will end, but I’ve already written the last chapter. I just need to sort out the little details along the way. This seemed like a good place to end the first part of this story.

I will not be posting new chapters for the next two weeks. I need to go over what I’ve already written to make sure I’m not forgetting any important details and try to polish up an outline for part two. There’s a lot to get sorted, after all. Still need to answer a few questions. What’s happening with Herna? Why does Vizsla hate Pav the Armorer? Will the Jedi really abandon Coruscant? What does Master Telno have to do with anything? Where the heck is Quinlan Vos?

See you all in two weeks.

Chapter Text

Chapter 50 : The Beginning

Naboo-
Quinlan Vos-

In their ship, Quinlan was sulking. He wouldn’t admit to it, but he was definitely sulking.

“What’s wrong, Padawan?”

“It’s been a long while since we got to Naboo,” Quinlan said, not bothering to lie as he knew very well that he could hide the truth from almost anyone but his Master. “We haven’t found anything. Not a single thing we can use against Chancellor Palpatine. How can he have nothing to hide? It’s not possible.”

Master Tholme put a bowl of stew in front of Quinlan. “Eat. I earned us a little money while you were searching.”

Quinlan did and he didn’t take for granted the privilege of being able to eat. He’d been old enough when he came to the Temple that he remembered having more than nutrient mash for every meal and he missed real food every time he had to swallow a bite of the tasteless mash that was somehow both slimy and gritty. So he ate.

“I don’t understand,” Quinlan said. “How we can’t find anything. There is ALWAYS something in a person’s past. Always. I can find embarrassing photos of Master Yoda when he was a toddler, but Palpatine? Nothing. How is there nothing?! There MUST be something.” Quinlan felt like he’d been saying the same thing ever since they’d gotten to Naboo. Every time he said it, his aggravation rose. It was a hard thing - controlling one’s temper... exercising patience. He had never been a great one for patience.

“What do you need?” Master Tholme, as calm as any Jedi could wish to be, asked as he sat at the table with Quinlan.

Need? He wanted to have Palpatine in front of him so he could punch him in his stupid, smug face to keep him away from Obi-Wan and the little one Obi-Wan had picked up. He wanted to take a steel pipe to every greedy, malicious Senator who voted to keep credits away from the Jedi who’d earned them. He wanted to grab Obi-Wan and shake him for getting himself into trouble, then hug him to reassure him that he wasn’t alone. Quinlan ran both hands over his thick hair. “I need... I need to mediate.”

So they did. Without another word, they both moved to the floor of their ship and sat, legs crossed, and Quinlan began the process of letting go of the negative emotions clouding his thoughts and letting the Force wash over him. It was unnerving. Not exactly uncomfortable, but the Force was so BIG so EVERYTHING that Quinlan was made acutely aware of how very small he was. It was usually when he realized how fearfully insignificant he was compared to the Force that the Force found a way to remind him that It thought he was perfect just the way he was.

It took time for his mind to settle, time to let himself be calm and to think rationally. The trouble was that he strongly suspected that he and the word ‘rational’ didn’t belong in the same room together. But this was important. There were people depending on him. Obi-Wan was depending on him... if he was still alive...

‘No!’ Quinlan gave those messy emotions to the Force. ‘I can’t control that... it doesn’t matter.’

Eventually, he settled and was able to think.

He always came to the same fact - no one could be as squeaky clean as Palpatine seemed to be. No enemies, no mistakes, no faults. It was impossible.

The Force swirled, lazy and relaxed around Quinlan. Content.

So, if it was impossible that Palpatine could be so flawless, then, logically, he did have flaws, Quinlan just couldn’t see them. He had already searched everywhere he could think of - Palpatine’s office on Naboo, the apartment he’d lived on while on planet, and even around the city he’d lived in. He had gone though Queen Amidala’s office thinking that as the two were close, then he might have slipped up in there. Nothing.

The Force bubbled, as if it were laughing and pressed against him like an affectionate tooka.

So there was nowhere else to look unless he went over the whole planet inch-by-inch, which was not feasible. He needed an answer and he needed it immediately.

Palpatine had covered up his whole life to make himself look perfect. Why? He’d have had to go to immense effort to make his whole life look like that. It looked like Palpatine had covered up everything. Which meant it was big. Very big. But this was Naboo and it was a quiet out of the way sort of place where nothing big ever happened except the recent war... the war.

The Force patted Quinlan on the head and pinched his cheek. He had the very distinct impression that It was proud of him.

He shook his head and dragged himself out of the meditation. The Force was being weird... again.

Quinlan stood up, then reached down to grab Master Tholme’s hands and pulled him to his feet. “Come on. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?” Master Tholme asked.

“Prison. I want to talk to someone.”

Before they could leave the ship, a sharp, pulsing alarm alerted them to an incoming message. Master Tholme went to the ship’s transmitter and accepted the message. Master Yoda’s voice came through the transmitter, “To all our Order Members who are currently serving missions - we have left the Republic. Meet us at the Beginning.”

Quinlan and Master Tholme stared at the transmitter, then looked at each other. Quinlin swallowed, hard. “Does that mean... what I think it does?”

“Yes.” Master Tholme almost smiled. “How interesting.”

“But...we can’t go now!”

“No. We’ll finish up here and find them later. There’s no rush. It seems that Master Yoda’s patience has run out.”

Coruscant-
Chancellor Palpatine-

“Chancellor Palpatine?”

Palpatine looked up from his desk and the paperwork that had been delivered to him because the galaxy couldn’t function without paperwork, and found a person standing in the door of his new office. He had no idea who the person was. They looked vaguely familiar and he supposed that he might have been introduced to the person when he’d been introduced to the rest of his staff, but he hadn’t bothered to remember a name. They were there to serve a function and could easily be replaced... why bother to remember a name?

“Yes?”

“You wanted to be notified when the Solstice Storm was over. It ended a few hours ago.”

“That’s just fine. Thank you.”

After the messenger left, Chancellor Palpatine waited. For hours he waited and while he waited he thought of the plans to come, of what he would do. He thought of the power so close that he could almost feel it tickling against his skin, a sweet temptation.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

The downfall of his hated enemies, the ignorant fools who didn’t even know they had a ax hanging over their heads. He imagined their surprise when the trap was sprung, their despair when they realized they were doomed. He imagined what it would feel like to experience so many deaths and to know that he had orchestrated such butchery. It would be like the finest wine rushing though his veins.

‘And I will have those boys kneeling at my feet,” he pictured Kenobi, older and well trained, his skills put to use against any who would dare to stand against the reality Palpatine would create. He pictured Anakin, as a young man, a maelstrom of power ready and willing to crush any opposition. Yes... if Kenobi survived the Arkon poisoning, what a pair those two boys would be! Kenobi, the delicate dagger, and Anakin, the sledgehammer. Dooku, of course, would be dead by that time. He was far too competent, too dangerous to be allowed to survive beyond the role Palpatine had planned for him.

He waited. For hours, he waited.

There was no word from Padme Amidala and she should have reached the boundary between the Republic and the Mandalorian Empire.

No word came from his pirate mercenaries about whether or not they’d managed to kill Windu. They were probably dead. A shame. It would have been very useful to have Windu dead and Dooku believing that Mandalorians were to blame. It would push him further to the Dark Side and make him all the more eager to exact revenge when Palpatine decided it was time to be rid of the Mandalorians. Like Dooku himself, Mandalorians were far too dangerous to be allowed to exist for much longer. A genocide was needed.

On and on he waited. He waited long enough for official word to be brought to him that there was a new Mand’alor. Duchess Satine Kryze, so very useful in her incompetence, had been dethroned.

It wasn’t good news.

He watched several news broadcasts concerning the new Mand’alor and listened to an audio broadcast from the Mandalorian Empire. He did some little research about the man’s past and found that he had been a journeyman protector. What little recorded footage of him that there was showed a man who threw everything he had into whatever situation he came to. He was loud to the point of obnoxious. There was not a single sign that he had any formal education at all, Palpatine thought derisively. He doubted the man could even read. Mereel appeared to be completely governed by his emotions.

After he’d made up his mind about Mereel, Palpatine smiled with satisfaction. A person who allowed their emotions to rule them would surely be as simple to manipulate as the Jedi, who denied their emotions.

It seemed clear to him that Mereel was nothing more than an uneducated former law keeper with nothing more to offer than his willingness to happily jump into any violence that presented itself. He was a fool and Palpatine could work with that.

There was a knock on Palpatine’s office door. “Do come in.”

One of his many aides entered. “Sir, Grandmaster Yoda of the Jedi Temple is here at your request.”

“Thank you. Show him in.”

Master Yoda-

Yoda sat uncomfortably in the chair that was too big for him. It was an insult, if a subtle one. There had been a chair built for Yoda’s height in the Chancellor’s office for several centuries. That he hadn’t been offered it was a telling, but not surprising, sign.

The Chancellor had been speaking for close to a half an hour. “... And so I think we can both agree that a friendly relationship between the Senate and the Jedi Order would be most beneficial to all. I want to know the Jedi better.”

Yoda serenely thought, ‘Kriff off. You’re not touching my great-grandpadawans.’

“For my part, I intend to do everything possible to strengthen the bond between us.”

With all the tranquility a Jedi could aspire to have, Yoda thought, ‘I’d like to tighten a rope around your neck.’

The Chancellor continued with, “In the interests of strengthening those bonds, I intend to ensure that the Jedi Order is given everything it needs - including funds for better food and medical needs. It is important for the Jedi Order and the Chancellor to be able to work together. Don’t you agree?’’

Yoda had nodded, slowly. “Indeed.”

“I have already taken the liberty of depositing additional funds - ten thousand credits - into the Jedi Temple’s account and you may do with it as you please.”

Yoda said, “Oh? I am surprised the Senate approved such a thing.”

“They didn’t. I made this decision on my own. It is the right thing to do, after all. How could I not help when people are in need?”

The meeting ended quickly after that.

Through the halls of the Senate building, Yoda walked with his usual sedate pace. He surrounded himself with feelings of calm... serenity... peace. He was one with the Force.

And, given half a chance, he was going to break the Chancellor’s neck.

‘He thinks he can buy my great-grandpadawans? He must think I was born yesterday. Ten thousand credits? Not for ten million!’

Yoda’s gimmer stick struck the floor a little harder than might have been necessary as he walked, a loud ‘crack!’ snapping through the hall with his every step. Even then, no one stopped to look at him.

Mace got instant regard wherever he went. He had a presence to him, a gravity that grabbed attention and all but demanded respect. Some people even feared him, though Yoda couldn’t help but remember the little boy who ran giggling though the halls of the Temple and wonder when Mace had become so respectable. But, respected he was. Mace could sit in absolute silence and still be the center of all attention. Big and strong and tall, he was a near perfect Master of the Order. No one outside the Order ever took Yoda as seriously as they did Mace.

All the better for Yoda as, apparently, Chancellor Palpatine didn’t take him seriously either.

“Master Yoda,” Depa said when he returned to the Temple. “What did the Chancellor say? Will he leave the younglings alone?”

Slowly, Yoda shook his head. “I was given no such assurance. I am calling a meeting of the Council. We will discuss our next decision.”

The meeting, once all available Council members had gathered to confer, took less than fifteen minutes. After Yoda had reported on his meeting with Chancellor - repeating to his fellow Council members what the Chancellor had said and what they were being offered - there was a deep, mournful silence for a long while in the room.

“He’s trying to pay for access to the younglings,” Master Gallia said, sounding resigned.

Yoda nodded. “It was not explicitly said, but that is my understanding of the situation. He will grant us better funding and hopes that, in exchange, there will be an easier relationship between the Jedi Order and himself. He wants to get to know members of our Order.”

Depa shook her head, “Yes, that sounds very good, but then he’ll want to get to know the younglings better. And if we refuse, we will suddenly find those increased funds get decreased back to the normal level or, worse, our account will suddenly be empty.”

“He goes too far,” Master Shaak Ti grumbled.

Depa said, “Master Mace doesn’t trust the Senate and I trust him. I do not believe they will do anything to benefit us, if it doesn’t also benefit them. We can’t trust them.”

Yoda sat back in his seat and watched his fellow Council members. There was a long while of thinking, some slumped shoulders of disappointed acceptance. When he was sure that all were in agreement, he said, “Their intentions are unimportant. Today, Chancellor Palapatine broke the Ruusan Reformation.”

Everyone stared. Master Shaak Ti sat forward in her seat, her hands tightening into fists. “What do you mean? You said he didn’t threaten to take the younglings!”

“He didn’t. But the Ruusan Reformation says nothing about younglings,” Yoda told them. “It specifically says that the Chancellor is prohibited from ‘interfering in the inner workings of the Temple’. By depositing credits in our account without the approval of the Senate or asking our permission to do so, he interfered. He has made it so that we must act to return the funds because he said the increase in funds was not authorized by the Senate. If the funds were taken from the Republic’s Treasury, we may be accused of theft. If the funds were from his private account, we could be accused of theft or accepting a bribe. Either way, he has forced us to act by making us return the credits. The Ruusan Reformation IS broken and we are no longer bound by it.”

Silence.

“Really?” Someone asked, softly. That was all it took. At once, all of the Council members - powerful, controlled Masters of high regard - began to mutter and whisper to one another like younglings.

Yoda let them have the release of emotion. When they settled, he said, “I will not make this decision alone. We will vote. This vote will affect not only Jedi, but also the Corpsmen. We will summon the four Chiefs of the Service Corps, explain what has happened and get their opinion on the matter. Then, we will vote.”

Less than an hour later, the vote was taken. Unanimously, they voted to leave Coruscant with the understanding that details of their future would be decided after they had their people safely off Coruscant and away from the Senate.

There were concerns, naturally. There were Order members away from the Temple on missions and, often, they had no private transport and would find it nearly impossible to rejoin the rest of the Order.

“We’ll fetch them,” Corpsman Pallo, the Chief of the Exploracorps said. “Those of us in the Service Corps are used to traveling here and there, so we have our own ships. We’ll fetch everyone’s who’s on a mission and, when they’re free to leave that mission, we’ll bring them to you.”

Depa said, “I thought we were going to wait for Master Tholme’s report about the Chancellor. We need to have information about him that will encourage him not to try anything rash to get us back and - ”

She was interrupted by the beeping alert of an incoming message. It wasn’t long and the transmission showed Master Tholme’s face on the hologram projected by the transmitter. The message had been recorded, not live, and said, “Greetings. Interesting here. Found something curious. Talk to you later.” And the transmission ended.

Depa chuckled. “I spoke too soon. It looks like they did find something. Or they’re in the process of finding something and don’t want to talk about it too publicly. That’s good enough for me, Master Tholme wouldn’t bother to communicate if they hadn’t found anything.”

There was a small amount of discussion, but it was, in the end, agreed. The time had come.

“Everyone make ready. We leave nothing and no one behind on Coruscant. I have two messages to send.” He tapped a button on the arm of his chair to open a general audio transmission that anyone with a transmitter would be able to receive.

“This is a message from the Coruscant Jedi Temple. To all who can receive and understand - know that we have not abandoned the Republic, but there has been an interference with the inner workings of our Temple, an act that directly goes against the Ruusan Reformation which has regulated the relationship between the Republic and the Jedi Order for a thousand years. In light of this, the Jedi Order considers the Ruusan Reformation to be null and void.” He paused, feeling the shock and hope and even a little fear from the others in the room. “It is with no little thought that we have decided our best course of action in this moment is to leave Coruscant and give some space between our Order and the Republic so that we might consider what would be best for all involved. I hold great hope that the Jedi Order will be able to resume our relationship with the Republic after some time of reflection.”

Yoda ended the transmission and, almost instantly, the Jedi’s communication center was nearly flooded with replies. Yoda ignored them all and input a second transmission code. It was the code used if the Order needed to communicate with all their members. Every adult Jedi, whether at home in the Temple or deployed on a mission, had a transmitter that would receive and broadcast on that transmission code. It was heavily encrypted and there should be no worry about the message being intercepted, but just in case, he used the code phrase that had long ago been created for just such an emergency.

Yoda said, “To all our Order Members who are currently serving missions - we have left the Republic. Meet us at The Beginning."

Padme -

Padme walked up the stairway to the Jedi Temple with her handmaidens, happily intent on telling them that Obi-Wan and Anakin appeared to be alive and well, and she suddenly froze in midstep at a loud, deep noise - the familiar sound of ships powering up. She watched as the Service Corps ships took off and left Coruscant. She was not Force sensitive at all, but she distinctly felt that something big had just happened.

Palpatine-

He listened to the outrageous public transmission Yoda made and immediately tried to contact the Jedi Temple. There was no answer. He turned to his window in time to see the ships of the Service Corps leaving Coruscant. He looked back at the transmitter he’d been listening to and, in his rage at the upheaval of all the careful plans of his predecessors, he sent a pulse of his fury at it and the transmitter exploded, leaving nothing but a pile of charred debris on his desk.

Mandalore-
Anakin-

He stood at the window of Jaster’s apartment with Sissy Satine next to him and Doctor Gihan standing behind them. Doctor Gihan had told them that Obi-Wan was going to be okay. The Jedi were nearly there and they’d brought medicine to save him.

“Look,” Sissy Satine pointed into the sky and Anakin saw a tiny ship coming down to land. “That will be the Jedi. Obi-Wan’s going to be fine. He’ll be perfectly fine.”

Anakin watched the descending ship, so happy for Obi-Wan, when he felt something. Something had happened. A change. A decision had been made somewhere that was bigger and more important than anything.

And then he heard it - a faint whisper in the back of his mind, a ripple of unfettered joy that seemed to be everywhere at once. It was somewhere between a sound and a feeling and he knew what it was, though he didn't know how he knew it. He knew that Master Jinn was laughing.

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

Chapter 51: Best Foot Forward

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Satine Kryze-

Jaster’s apartment was quiet while they waited.

“Are you sure Obi’s not dead,” Anakin asked. It was the third time he’d asked and each time he did, Satine prayed that the Jedi wouldn’t separate Obi-Wan and Anakin. She had no doubt that Anakin - such a tough little tyke - would survive being parted from Obi-Wan, but he would not thrive. She thought it might break his heart.

Doctor Gihan, who had stayed with them since word had come that the Jedi were on their way and Jaster had taken Obi-Wan to the Landing Field, patiently reassured Anakin, for the third time, “Yes. He’s alive. He is going to get his medicine and when he returns, I’ll give him a fresh checkup just to make sure.”

Anakin opened his mouth to say something else, but closed it. He tugged his little Jedi robe closer around him.

Satine went to the apartment’s environment controls by the door and increased the temperature by ten degrees. She cast a discreet look at Doctor Gihan, who gave her an approving smile.

It was not a good wait. Tension seemed to build and build until it chocked all the air out of the room and Satine couldn’t decide on the best way to help. Anakin chewed his thumbnail and he kept going back to the window, as if he might see whatever was going on at the Landing Field. He sat so close to Aranar that Satine wondered if he was going to try to pull it onto his lap with little Kal. He was the very picture of anxiety, but there was also a dreadful sadness, a resignation in his eyes.

“They’re scary, you know,” Anakin was staring at the window, again. “The Jedi. Do you think they’ll make Obi leave me here? Will they let me see him before he goes away?”

“They will stay here for a time, I think.” Satine stood and went to the window where she could faintly see her own reflection in the glass. She caught herself looking at her hair for any trace of pink and forced herself to look away from the window. She had done it several times since Trion had... well. She was sure she could ignore the impulse to keep checking her hair to make sure all the pink paint had been washed away. Nole had been thorough when helping her to wash and, honestly, it was only paint. It didn’t matter. Not really. She could just ignore the need to keep checking. It was a ridiculous thing to be worried that other Mandalorians would see it and they would know. She forced a smiled and went back to sit with Anakin. “If I understand the situation correctly, we are going to be visited by a few Jedi. I think Jedi haven’t come to Mandalore for many years. This is going to be a big day for everyone. I expect we’ll have to treat this like a state visit.”

“What’s a ‘state visit’?” Anakin asked.

“A formal affair.” Satine’s mind drifted to duties that must be done. As Mand’alor, many of those duties would fall to Jaster, but she was certain he didn’t know the little details that an important visitor would expect at such a time and Jaster had employed her as an assistant. Surely, she could manage organizing something on such short notice while he concentrated on the more important matter of taking care of Obi-Wan.

There would have to be food provided, naturally. The Jedi were, by Obi-Wan’s tales of them, a modest and fastidious people, but everyone enjoyed food. She would contact the Fortress’ kitchens to have something prepared. Not something grand, but filling, hearty food. That was the sort of thing Obi-Wan would have wanted and, as there couldn’t be a more perfect Jedi than Obi-Wan, he was clearly the best example to use.

They would need somewhere to rest. Obi-Wan had once told her that Jedi were very communal, so if there were only a few Jedi arriving, they might like to share a room, but she would have several prepared - just in case - and hope they chose to stay for the night, at least. She petted Anakin’s hair. She dearly hoped they would stay for at least one night and give themselves time to know Anakin. She didn’t know what could have happened - and neither Anakin nor Obi-Wan had gone into much detail - to make Anakin think he was so disliked by the Jedi. He was such a likable, friendly child that it was hard to imagine anyone disliking him. It could only be a matter of them not really knowing him, so if they would stay for a night, or perhaps two, she would do everything in her power to show them what a treasure little Anakin was and how cruel it would be to separate him from Obi-Wan.

Perhaps she could supply the visitors with a change of clothes, if they didn’t have much in the way of supplies. Of course she wouldn’t be able to provide real Jedi clothing, but she could offer something clean.

A tour of the city would be a casual way to build a relationship with the Jedi, and she knew very well that Jaster was interested in more friendly relations with them.

Yes, she decided, as she thought. A state visit didn’t have to be an arduous business. She could keep things light and pleasant... casual.

As Satine thought of what else she could do to make their visitor’s stay a comfortable one, Anakin wrinkled his nose and asked, with his usual innocence, “Are you and Master Windu having an affair?”

Satine choked and Doctor Gihan laughed. Satine asked, “What? Why would you ask such a thing?”

“You said a state visit was a formal affair and I once heard mom tell the lady who owns the tattoo parlor that Mister Nimbric, the baker, and Missus Ronat, she’s a milkmaid, were having an affair so Mister Nimbric’s wife and Missus Ronat’s husband were really angry. Are you having an affair with Master Windu?”

“I certainly am... wait. Stop. What?” Satine’s breath caught as Anakin’s words registered. Master Windu?

“What’s wrong?” Doctor Gihan asked. “Satine, you’ve gone very pale.”

Without answering Doctor Gihan, Satine asked Anakin, “Master Windu? The Master of the Order, Master Windu is coming here?”

Anakin shrugged. “Obi just called him, ‘Master Windu’.”

Right. Of course. She remembered. Anakin had told Obi-Wan that he’d seen Master Windu on the transmitter that night Jaster had first seen the bruises Trion had left on her arms. Had anyone actually told Satine that Master Windu was coming for Obi-Wan and Anakin? She didn’t think so, but it had been so busy in the past few days, she might have forgotten, but what a thing to forget! She was a real idiot! “And Obi-Wan’s sure it’s Master Windu who’s coming?”

“He thought so.”

Doctor Gihan added, “It’s almost certain. Transmission don’t get through the Solstice Storm easily, so when we got the transmission from him, he must have been right at the edge of the storm. I seriously doubt any transmission could have reached us from Coruscant at that point. And if he was so close, then it would make sense that he would be part of the rescue party.”

It changed everything. She couldn’t do casual with the Master of the Order! A visit from the Master of the Order all but require a banquet and entertainment! There was no time. No time to prepare anything!

The large, clawed hand of Doctor Gihan lightly touched Satine’s arm. He looked at her with concern. “Tell me what’s going on. Let me help.”

“The Master of the Order is the highest-ranking Jedi. There is no one above him. This situation would be rather like having the Queen of Alderaan stop by for an unannounced visit while you have an empty pantry and your washing is drying on the line.” She ran both hands over her hair. “The Jedi aren’t, strictly speaking, members of the Republic. They don’t have a representative in the Senate. So it is most accurate to think of them as their own, tiny nation. A visit from the Master of the Order is no less important than if the Chancellor of the Republic were to show up. I’m afraid there is nothing you can do to help.” She shook herself and straightened her back. “Any word about the situation?”

Doctor Gihan looked at his vambrace and tapped a few of the controls. After a moment, he said, “Nothing new since Jaster told us that Kenobi has had his medicine and the Jedi with them is confident that Kenobi is in no further danger. I’m sure everything will be fine. The Jedi are here for Kenobi, not for politics.”

She hoped he was right. During her schooling on Coruscant, she had taken many field trips to the Senate and she had often seen Master Windu there, speaking with some official or another. It seemed to her that he was quite involved in politics and to have him come to Mandalore when he could easily have sent another Jedi... and Mandalore had a new leader so it would be an ideal time to make a political move if Master Windu had any type of political ambition.

Even if he had no political ambition, and he really was there simply to rescue Obi-Wan and Anakin, then he was still the leader of his people and to show him anything less than full respect was entirely unthinkable. They needed to have a guest room fully turned over for him, but there could be no proper feast! There was no time to organize any such thing!

If he left Mandalore thinking the Mandalorians were as barbaric as the rest of the galaxy said they were... she would never forgive herself!

A tugging at her arm made Satine look down at Anakin. “Sissy? You look scared.”

Satine patted Anakin hand. “Nonsense! Nothing to be scared of. These are Obi-Wan’s family, after all.”

“So you don’t think they’ll leave me behind?”

She didn’t, but it would have been reckless to make promises. “No matter what happens, you’ll always be wanted here. Jaster told you that. Remember?”

Anakin nodded. “Yeah.” Then he brightened. “Say, if I tell them you’re in love with Obi, maybe they’ll let him stay here.”

Satine let out a somewhat undignified squeak just before the door swung open and Nole dashed in.

Nole, who’d had free run of Satine’s room since the day she became Satine’s lady’s maid, burst into Jaster’s apartment without reservation. The minute Satine had taken to sleeping in Jaster’s apartment, Nole had made herself at home coming and going there, too, and no one had been silly enough to challenge her.

“Milady!” Nole called out, rushing across the room, completely ignoring Doctor Gihan, who had started when she’d slammed the door open. A startled Mandalorian wasn’t a safe one, so Satine was glad to see that he was in control of himself enough not to pull a weapon. At Nole’s heels, two little girls with long, straight blonde hair, ran.

Satine’s blinked at the children. “Nole? Who...?”

Nole, once she reached Satine, beamed and gestured to the girls. “My foundlings. My riduur and I adopted them recently.”

And Satine remembered. After the most recent Death Watch attack when she’d been brained and then gone out into the battle - not her brightest decision, but it had seemed like a good choice at the time - there had been two little girls in the infirmary. She’d brought Anakin and Obi-Wan to the infirmary and seen the girls crying. As happy as she was for Nole and Metek, both of whom wanted a big family, it was impossible to ignore that the two girls had suffered so horribly.

“I’m glad they have you,” Satine said, honestly. She felt she should say something to the girls, but when she looked at them, they dodged to hide behind Nole. She decided it would be best to leave them be. She looked back at Nole. “You’re in such a rush. What’s wrong?”

Nole held out a small transmitter to Satine. “You just listen to that. It was broadcast from the Jedi Temple.”

Both Anakin and Doctor Gihan perked up.

“It was broadcast just a little while ago. I recorded it for you, but it was sent everywhere. Every part of the galaxy seems to have gotten it. The furthest reaches of Hutt space must have heard!”

Satine activated the device and listened with growing shock.

“What’s it mean?” Anakin asked when the recording ended.

“It sounds like the Jedi have decided to leave Coruscant for some reason,” Doctor Gihan said. His large, yellow eyes narrowed as he thought. “I - I never thought I would see such a day. The Jedi have been on Coruscant for a millennium. I wonder what brought this about?”

Satine was dazed. Doctor Gihan kept speaking and Satine did hear him ponder on what event might have got the Jedi away from Coruscant, but her mind was racing to what might be.

If the Jedi were not calling Coruscant their home, then they had to have somewhere else to call home. And if all the galaxy had heard this message, then surely other people were of the same mind as she was. She didn’t have much time.

Her heart was racing along with her mind.

The Jedi had to settle somewhere and Nole, who was always a good source of gossip about what was going on with the regular Mandalorians in Keldabe, had told Satine several times that more and more people were getting interested in meeting Jedi.

“Satine? You’re being very quiet,” Doctor Gihan said. “What’s wrong?”

“Wrong?” Satine let out a highly unprofessional giggle that might have been a touch on the hysterically excited side. “Nothing’s wrong! Everything is good... it might be good. I have to... yes! Let’s go! Anakin, dear,” she held out a hand and waited until Anakin came to her and took her offered hand. “Let’s go.” She led everyone out of Jaster’s apartment and, as she walked, her pace quickened until they were walking as quickly as Nole could manage. Satine led them through the halls until they reached the west side of the Fortress and she found a window they could all look out.

There it was.

Not quite half completed, it stood on the horizon like a manufactured mountain in the desert.

Satine grinned at it.

Doctor Gihan looked over Satine’s shoulder.

Anakin stood on his toes and peered out the window. “What are we looking at?”

“Sundari. Father had decided that we needed a new capital city and he planned to have Sundari be the New Mandalorian’s capital city and abandon Keldabe. He died before the city could be finished and we’ve been so busy with Death Watch that there hasn’t been any time to even think about Sundari. When it’s finished, we’ll have a whole city with no one living in it.”

Doctor Gihan frowned. “Yes. What does that have to do with-”

“The Jedi will need a place to live and we have it almost gift wrapped for them! Our own population isn’t big enough to fill two cities, so they could live there. Everyone will be trying to get them! Every planet in the Republic and beyond will want the Jedi to settle with them, even if the Jedi declare they will be an entirely neutral party. Anywhere the Jedi settle will have an instant elevation in status. No matter how the Senate treats them,” Obi-Wan had told her stories. “The citizens of the Republic respect them. If the Jedi are going to go anywhere, then why not here?”

While she was entirely aware that Jaster didn’t give a hoot about status or how the Republic saw Mandalore, he did seem very open to the idea of peaceful relations with the Jedi. Offering the Jedi a home must surely be a good step towards peace.

“I need to get ready.” She looked at Doctor Gihan. “How long until they get to the Fortress?”

Doctor Gihan put on his helmet and was silent for a moment, undoubtedly talking to someone to find out what Satine needed to know. He took off his helmet. “Jaster said they’ll be here in about ten minutes and they have one of the Jedi with them. There are two others following with Jango.”

“Right.” Satine frowned. “I need to get changed into something formal. Anakin, you go comb your hair and see if you can find snacks for our guests in Jaster’s kitchen.” She gave Anakin’s hand a little squeeze and looked at both Doctor Gihan and Nole. “Best foot forward! We need to make an excellent first impression! We need to impress them!”

Nole nodded sharply. “Right. I’ll let the other staff in the Fortress know and they’ll spread the word, not just in the Fortress, but through the city.”

Suddenly suspicious because she was beginning to understand her people a little better, Satine asked, “You’ll spread the word? What word?”

“Don’t worry, Milady,” Nole patted Satine on the arm and took hold of both of her little girls’ hands. She turned and started walking away. “We’ll have everyone in Keldabe armored and armed within the hour! We’ll show the Jetii our best! They’ll see we’re a real might to be reckoned with!”

“No!” Satine raised a useless hand. “That’s not what I meant!”

But Nole was gone.

Weakly, Satine muttered, “I just meant for everyone to put on a clean shirt and be polite.”

Doctor Gihan was laughing, a deep, guttural sound. “I have only been Mandalorian for a few years,” he told Satine. “And I remember what it was like having to learn how Mandalorians saw the Universe. Soon, it’ll be second nature for you to give very specific directions about how you want things done when you’re speaking to our people.”

Anakin stood on his toes and looked out across the desert. “It looks very far away.”

“It’s not all that far,” Satine told him. “Only a couple of miles. A speeder could make it there in just a few minutes.”

“Do you think Obi’s Jedi will really come to live here?”

“No. There’s a lot of bad blood and distrust between us, but it will be a friendly, generous gesture when they’re in need of help. They’ll remember this kindness and, with a little work and care, our peoples might become friends. And if they do decide to live on Mandalore, then that will almost make it certain that the rest of the galaxy will stop treating us like murderous savages, because they know that the Jedi wouldn’t live with terrible people.” Either way, would benefit both Mandalorians and Jedi and if she could handle the situation correctly, then perhaps Jaster would see her as an asset and not -

Trion sat on her and his eyes were terrifying. He slapped the pink paint on her face and it slopped into her eyes and in her nose and in her mouth. It was bitter... foul. Then Jaster was there, roaring in his rage, and he tore Trion away from her. Jango had helped clean her face, so gently that he might have thought she was made of glass.

- and not a burden. She would definitely not be a burden. She would be useful and they wouldn’t have to protect her.

Anakin-

Anakin’s head felt like it was all messed up. He had cried, earlier. After Obi had been dead and then come back to life, which Anakin didn’t even know could happen. Obi was awesome.

While Sissy Satine and Doctor Gihan were talking about grown-up things, like ‘peace treaties’ and ‘on-going negotiations’ and other things that sounded very dull, he looked back out the window at the other city. There wasn’t much to see. Just sand stretched out between the two cities and the other city was so far away that Anakin couldn’t see much of it. But it could be finished and the Jedi could have a whole city. They could all be together and be happy.

It would be great if the Jedi came to live there. That would make it so much easier for him to be both a Jedi and a Mandalorian. If they let him. Obi-Wan seemed sure that Anakin would be a Jedi, but Anakin was almost certain they didn’t want him.

On the other hand, if Obi-Wan was right, if Anakin could be a Jedi, it would be great.

Still standing on his toes, Anakin rested his chin on the cool stone of the window. He could be with Obi-Wan and Obi-Wan could be with the rest of his Jedi and... and... and Obi-Wan said that Boss Jaster could get Anakin’s mom. Obi-Wan had been planning to buy her with the ship Padme had given him - Anakin loved Obi-Wan SO much! - but Boss Jaster could do it, too. So even if Anakin’s mom couldn’t stay with the Jedi, then she could live with Boss Jaster and Sissy Satine and they’d be nice to her. He was sure they’d be nice.

Everything was going to be perfect. He’d have everyone he loved practically together.

“I wanna make a good impression, too.” Anakin looked at Sissy Satine, determined. “I gotta change into my Jedi clothes!” He was already wearing the brown Jedi robe Boss Jaster had given him, but he’d look much more like a Jedi if he put on the great clothes Padme had gotten made for him.

Sissy Satine said, “Of course you can change your clothes, but I thought you said they were too cold. You said you like the undersuit better because it was warmer.”

“Don’t matter. We gotta impress them and that means I gotta look like a Jedi.” He’d be willing to be cold for the rest of his life if it meant he got to stay near his mom AND his Obi-Wan. “And I gotta show them how good Obi takes care of me so they’ll know he’s the best Jedi ever and they’ll want to keep him.”

“What do you mean?” Sissy Satine asked.

“He hasn’t got his Force. He said it’ll come back when he gets better, but what if it doesn’t? How can he be a Jedi without the Force? If he doesn’t get to live with his family, then he’d be so sad. So, I’ll be real good and they’ll think Obi did a great job of taking care of me and teaching me and they’ll want to have him around even if he doesn’t have his Force.”

Anakin was going to be calm.

Anakin was going to be brave.

Anakin was going to be very, very sensible.

Anakin was going to kick them in the kneecaps if they didn't want Obi-Wan.

To Be Continued....

A/N: Anakin had no idea that it was possible for people to come back from the dead and he is properly impressed by how awesome his big brother is.

Merry Christmas and happy Life Day, everyone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 52: The Little Girl

Mandalore-
Goran Pav-

Jaster Mereel was Mand’alor.

It was over and done.

After the Challenge Match, Pav had watched while Mand’alor Mereel - he had earned the title honorably - left the Fighting Field. He moved slowly and allowed the young Duchess Kryze to help him off the field. In a moment, his ad, Jango, joined them and took his buir’s weight from the Kryze girl. Pav knew, without any further doubt, that Mereel would be a worthy Mand’alor. He did not arrive at that judgment from the fight, though that had been rousingly energetic and showed off Mereel’s martial skills very well. He had made that judgment by watching Kryze. She had been the first to salute Mereel after his victory, the man who had taken away her position and power, and she had been the first to acknowledge him as Mand’alor. That she could accept him so easily, without any trace of regret or fear, surely it spoke well of his character.

‘I have tested his merit,’ Pav thought as he watched the new Mand’alor. ‘And he was not found wanting. I can bring word to my people about this new development and we will see how Vizsla reacts.’

The thought of Vizsla made Pav was to break something.

He pushed that thought away. There was work to do.

He needed to find Herna.

Back to the Fortress he went because he still believed that if he stayed near the boy long enough, Herna would eventually turn up and then he could question her and find out what was going on and why she believed the boy was hers, though the boy didn’t seem to even know someone wanted to be his parent.

He entered the Fortress with no trouble. It was open to the people with the exception of people’s homes and other such secured areas. As he didn’t know where to find the Jetii boy, he had to settle for prowling the halls of the Fortress and waiting. As he prowled, he listened and he learned.

The Jetii boy, Kenobi, was in the infirmary. Mereel had told Pav that the boy had been attacked. Was Herna truly so lost that she had attacked a child?

To the shock and outrage of all who’d seen him, the younger Jetii boy had been seen racing through the halls of the Fortress with his face splattered with pink paint. The young Duchess had been even more grossly savaged. It was enough to turn Pav’s stomach.

A general alert had been sent out to everyone in Keldabe, to be on the alert for Herna. They didn’t have her name, but sent out an image of her in her armor and warned that she was wanted for attacking an ad. Kenobi had seen the picture and confirmed that she had attacked him.

Herna’s armor had been found, abandoned. It made Pav want to cry for her. To abandon one’s armor was as severe as abandoning one’s soul. How could she do it?

Kenobi had died, then been brought back. Whether it was something to do with Kenobi’s injury or the illness he’d been suffering with, Pav didn’t know. He’d heard that Mereel had summoned medical help and Kenobi had been rushed back to the infirmary.

The Jetiise were coming.

Such a stir that caused. The whole Fortress was in an uproar. Pav happened to be near a window when that news came out and, when he looked out the window, he saw a small mob of people flying towards the Landing Field. He followed, of course.

A Jetii arrived with flare. He leapt out of the ship bringing him to Mandalore well before it had landed. When the Jetii hit the ground, he hit so easily that he started running at once. The people standing near Pav had nothing but admiration for the Jetii who had come so far and taken such a risk to save an ad. He watched as Kenobi was saved and watched as Mereel exchanged some polite words with the Jetii. All around, Mando’ade were vying for a better view of the newcomer.

‘This meeting is possible because of Mereel,’ Pav thought. ‘This meeting never would have happened if Vizsla had been Mand’alor and the boy would have died of his sickness.’ He remembered when he’d believed Vizsla would lead them back to what Mando’ade were meant to be, when the only choices for their people had been a man who wanted to steal their armor and Vizsla, who had promised a return to old traditions. At the time, Vizsla had seemed the better option.

But Vizsla had lied and Pav remembered that day.

Memory-

Pav was a Goran and a traditionalist of the old ways. He was of the type who did not remove his armor - a rare sect of Mando’ade who swore to a sacred Creed. He believed in the Resol’nare with every fiber of his being, every beat of his heart. So when the heretical New Mandalorians took political power in the Empire, he was disheartened. When they began to make noise about disarming all Mando’ade, he was angry. When they spoke about stealing armor from Mando’ade, he knew they had to be stopped. Joining with Tor Vizsla’s group - a modestly sized band of verd who didn’t want to have their way of life taken from them - had seemed a sensible choice.

“You’re making a good decision,” Vizsla had said when Pav had agreed to join him. “We’ll make them regret everything.”

It had seemed like a good idea at the time.

Less than one week after joining Vizsla’s colorfully named ‘Death Watch’, Pav noticed that there were unhappy people in the group. He didn’t know how grim the situation was until one day when Vizsla had taken the group to stage an attack on enemy verd. As a Goran, Pav had stayed behind at the camp to repair some damaged armor and he had been working when the attack troop had returned - all chaos and anger and despair.

Two dozen verd landed in a roar of jet packs and the moment they touched down, one of them fell to his knees and let out a terrible wail as he yanked the helmet from his head. He bellowed, “We are dar’manda!” He hurled his helmet across the camp and into the darkness of the night. There were tears flowing freely down his face. “We are cursed!”

Vizsla, who carried a canvas sack over one shoulder like a bag of laundry, took off his own helmet and rolled his eyes at the verd. “Go elsewhere if you’re going to whine.”

The troop of verd, even as Pav watched, drifted apart into two different groups. Many, stayed near Vizsla, but almost half moved to the opposite side of the campfire where they watched Vizsla and his group, warily.

Between both groups, Pav stood. He looked at Vizsla’s untroubled face. “What have you done?”

“What had to be done,” Vizsla said, carelessly. “No one who supports Mereel can be trusted, they are all traitors.” He dropped the sack he’d been carrying and when it hit the ground with a hard thump, there was a dreadful cry - small and piteous. The bag wiggled.

“Farmers,” a verd, Herna, stepped forward. She was one of those who stood opposed to Vizsla, keeping the fire between themselves and him. Her voice was cold and her head hung low. “Those were no verd that we faced tonight or even the New Mandalorians, but farmers. We woke up a sleeping family of farmers and butchered them before Mereel showed up.”

“They were friends of Mereel,” Vizsla hissed.

On the ground, the bag shifted, again. A tiny, soft voice called out from the bag, “Buire?”

Herna clenched one hand into a fist. “They were still in their nightclothes when they died.”

Vizsla raised his chin. “Maybe others will think twice before supporting that coward, Mereel.”

Pav felt sick. His head reeled. “You said we were to battle verd. You said there was an outpost of verd helping Mereel.”

Without a shred a remorse, Vizsla shrugged. “My mistake.”

Pav went to the bag Vizsla had dropped. It wiggled and twitched, the soft cries never really stopping. He knelt down and opened the bag to have two large blue eyes stare out at him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He reached into the bag and pulled out a little girl. She appeared to be mostly human. Her skin was rather dark and her hair very pale. She was bruised all over and her mouth was bleeding. Pav carefully used his thumb to wipe the blood off her mouth before he picked her up, holding her close. She was tiny, barely older than a toddler.

“I found a new recruit,” Vizsla said, as if he hadn’t so easily condemned himself. “We aren’t winning over people to our cause fast enough. If we take them this young, it will be easier to teach them the proper way to be Mando’ade.”

He would kill parents, Pav realized. Kill the parents and steal the children.

Behind his helmet, he squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. How had he been such a fool that he hadn’t seen Vizsla for what he was? He wasn’t trying to take their people back to the old ways. Pav looked at the sniffling little girl in his arms. This was not the way. This way of Vizsla’s was not one of honor, there was no hint of the Resol’nare in it. This was nothing but... murder.

“I am leaving.” Pav tightened his grip of the child - he wouldn’t leave her there. “I am done with you, Vizsla.” While any other verd leaving his cause might not be much of a concern for Vizsla, Pav was a Goran and he knew his own worth. His merely being affiliated with Vizsla’s group gave them status and legitimacy. To lose Pav would set back Vizsla’s plans. “I am done with you and with Kyr’tsad. Those who want to leave with me, I will welcome.”

And all of Vizsla’s nonchalance vanished in the blink of an eye. “You will not.”

“I will.” Pav went to the group who stood away from Vizsla and put the little girl down amongst them. He turned and faced Vizsla, then raised his voice and said, “I brand you a demogolka, Tor Vizsla of Clan Vizsla.”

Vizsla snarled, “I am Mand’alor! You do not have authority to -”

“I have EVERY authority - I am Goran! You have deliberately harmed ade. You have murdered noncombatants. You are not Mand’alor, you do not deserve the title.”

And Vizsla charged.

It was not a long battle. Everyone but Pav, Vizsla included, had been weary from fighting with Mereel’s True Mandalorians. Vizsla’s people joined in and then those who had been horrified by what Vizsla had done entered the fray. The battle ended when Pav swung his hammer and caught Vizsla in the ribs, Vizsla ordered a retreat and, in moments, only Pav and the people who would follow him were left by the still crackling fire of their encampment.

There was silence for a time.

Breathing hard from the battle, Pav went to where he’d left the little girl. He knelt in front of her and asked, “What is your name?”

The little girl whispered, “Arla Fett. Where’s my buire? Where’s my vod?”

“Your vod?”

“Jango,” the girl said. She scrubbed at her watery eyes with her fists and pouted at Pav. “Jango Fett. Where’s my vod?”

One of the verd who’d gone with Vizsla stepped forward. “There was another ad, Your Honor. A boy. He ran into the fields. Mereel arrived then and all was chaos. When it was done, the boy was nowhere to be seen. He was older than the girl, I wouldn’t be surprised if Vizsla had...” He broke off and looked sadly at little Arla. “I think the boy’s gone.” Then he looked back at Pav and asked, “What do we do, now? We can’t stay here - they’ll be back soon, better armed and ready to fight.” His fist tightened on his blaster, clearly not frightened at the thought of another battle.

Not one of the people there would hesitate to fight, but Pav knew it would be a disaster. He had chased Vizsla off, but Vizsla had many people loyal to him. Pav looked around at the people who had stayed with him. “I am leaving. Any who wish to come with me, may. We will go somewhere secluded where we can think and decide who we want to be.” He picked up little Arla and ran a hand over her dirty, knotted hair. “First, we will go back to that farm and look for the missing boy.”

They never found the boy and had to presume he’d been killed.

End Memory-

Pav nodded as he watched the Jetii and Mereel speak. Mereel would be an adequate Mand’alor. There were things about him that Pav didn’t like, could not agree with. He would have been far happier with a much more traditional Mando’ad as Mand’alor. However, Mereel was no monster like Vizsla or a heretic like the New Mandalorians. He seemed to be a rather sensible compromise, a Mand’alor who could unite their fractured people.

Satisfied with what he saw, Pav turned and left. He still needed to find Herna. Perhaps there was hope for her. If she told him that it had all been some terrible mistake and that she had never intended to harm the boy, then he could hide her until he could untangle the mess she was in.

If she didn’t regret what she’d done, if she had deliberately tried to hurt an ad... his hand tightened around the long handle of his hammer.

He hoped she could regret.

On Jango’s Ship-
Master Windu-

Two hours after they’d boarded the ship of the young Mandalorian, Jango Fett approached Mace and Dooku. Without removing his helmet, he said,

“I’ve just had word from Mandalore. Your friend reached the planet without trouble and Kenobi has had the antidote. He’s doing very well.”

Mace nodded. “Thank you. That is good to hear.”

When Jango went back to his duties, Mace closed his eyes for a moment. Relief nearly flooded him. He held onto that emotion for a moment, then let all of it go, along with the worry he’d had for Kenobi and Anakin. There would be other worries to deal with - there were always more worries - but at least he could be content that the younglings were being looked after and were safe.

Mace looked at Dooku, “How are you doing?”

Dooku raised an eyebrow. “I am going to retrieve my dead Padawan’s body and hope that my grandpadawan hasn’t been too traumatized by this experience, because he’s had quite enough trauma for one lifetime. There are mercenaries - or some sort of criminal - who are trying to either kill or capture you. I will need to ‘deal’ with Palpatine once I’ve had a long talk with Obi-Wan to find out exactly what has been going on with him. I haven’t even met my youngest grandpadawan and I have to make therapy appointments for him at the Temple because, apparently, he has been a slave his entire life. Not to mention that we’ve been rescued by people who may or may not have some treacherous ulterior motive.”

“You’re being very suspicious.”

“In my experience, people rarely have our best interests at heart. Oh, the general citizen of the Republic is honorable and kind enough, but give anyone a teaspoon of power and they start seeing Jedi as some sort of tool to be used for their benefit and acquisition of more power.” But, after a moment of silence, he said, “However, I must admit that the Force doesn’t give me any warnings about them. I suppose they are probably safe.”

Mace, through his dealings with the Senate, could only agree with Dooku about how people with power treated them, but he was glad that Dooku was willing to see that the Mandalorians, at least these ones, weren’t the enemy. He, too, could feel no warnings from the Force about their current situation. He did, however, feel a strong current of tension from their Mandalorian escorts. He whispered to Dooku, “You’re scaring our rescuers.”

With wide eyes and a sneer, Dooku sniffed. “I? You think I am scaring people?” He looked down his long nose at Mace. “How could I possibly scare anyone?”

“Well, the glaring might have something to do with it.”

“I am not scary.”

“No. Of course not. And you are focusing your attention on the commander of our rescuers for a reason?”

“He called me old.”

Mace had to fight, very hard, not to roll his eyes. “He called you an honored elder. That is hardly an insult. By the standards of many cultures, you would be considered ancient.”

Slowly, Dooku turned his full attention to Mace. He raised an eyebrow. “You are not improving my temper.”

“Then it is fortunate that Jedi are practiced in controlling such things, isn’t it?”

Mace and Dooku’s personal transmitters gave a small ‘beep’ to alert them they’d both received a message. The minute they saw the transmission code that the message was sent with, turned their transmitters to text only, rather than audio, to prevent them from being overheard. The transmission signal was only for emergencies and only very rarely used.

It was from Master Yoda and the message read, “To all our Order Members who are currently serving missions - we have left the Republic. Meet us at The Beginning.”

Mace and Dooku exchanged a hard look. They both knew what that meant.

Jango Fett approached them. “Is anything wrong?” He nodded at the transmitters they held.

“Not at all,” Mace said as he and Dooku both put their transmitters back into a pocket on the inside of their robes. “Just news from home. Will it take us long to get to Mandalore? I am sorry to say I haven’t had the chance to visit.”

“Not long. Just a few hours.” He said to Dooku, “Honored Elder, if you would like to sit and relax until we reach Mandalore, I can have a seat brought here for you. We also have an assortment of fruit if you’re hungry.”

Dooku’s narrowed eyes softened. With all the dignity he could manage (which was quite a lot) he nodded his head. “That would be appreciated.”

And it was done.

A chair was brought to the Command Deck and a plate of fruit along with a drink and, before long, Dooku was set up quite comfortably.

“You know,” Dooku said discretely to Mace as he nibbled some sort of red and yellow fruit. “I may have to change my mind. The boy isn’t all that bad. Quite good manners, really.”

Mace almost smiled. “Don’t get too used to it. Not a single person at the Temple thinks you’re old.”

When Mace was able to speak to Jango without Dooku overhearing, he told the young man, “We appreciate the kindness, but he is far from helpless. He is one of the foremost swordsmen the Temple has ever seen and is more than capable of holding his own in any dangerous situation. There are many Knights and Masters who greatly admire his skills and strength.”

Jango glanced quickly over his shoulder to where Dooku was placidly watching the stars, his mind undoubtedly on his grandpadawns, then back at Mace. With his voice lowered nearly to a whisper, Jango said, “I know. Kenobi likes to talk about his people and he’s told us all about his family, including his ba’buir. He was most thorough when telling us about his ba’buir’s skills.”

Puzzled, Mace asked, “Then why all... this?” He wave a hand at Dooku, who was, apparently ignoring them.

“I’m hoping for lessons.”

Mace almost laughed. “Lessons?”

“Sure. If he’s as good as Kenobi and you say, I’d be a fool not to ask for swordsmanship lessons.”

Six hours later, Mandalore came into view and landing procedures began.

As they were descending and the planet’s surface drew closer and closer, Mace looked out the viewing window of the Command Deck and felt a stirring of unease. There were people waiting - a whole sea of them. A massive amount of Mandalorians, perhaps thousands of them, stood at the landing area. They stood in straight, tidy lines - like a well organized army ready to deploy.

At the sight of them, Mace squared his shoulders and straightened his back. No matter what threat stood before him, he would recover the younglings!

To Be Continued...

Ba’buir - grandparent
Verd - warrior
Dar’manda - no longer a Mandalorian
Demogolka - a monster
Vod - sibling / comrade
Buire - parents
Mando’ade - Mandalorians

A/N: Dear readers, would anyone be interested in reading a free original novel? I’ve written and published two novels and I thought it would be nice to see what people think of them.

Chapter Text

Dear readers,

Sorry, this isn't an early new chapter.

I got such a nice response from people who might be interested in reading my original novels, that I thought I'd put some information about them here.

I have two novels for sale on Amazon.com and for five days (January 3 - January 7, 2024) the e-books are going to be free! At least, I’m pretty sure I set that up correctly.

If you go to Amazon.com, you can look for these two books written by Mehitable Hatch:

1. This Thing of Ours - Set in the 1930’s and has action, crime, and a splash of romance.

2. The Broken Spyglass - A historical murder / crime novel set in the 1600s in the Caribbean and it involves pirates.

I always appreciate knowing what people think of my stories, so if anyone would like to leave a review on Amazon.com, I’d love to read it.

I should warn everyone that these books are NOT for children. There are themes of murder, crime, and other such things, but it’s nothing that I would consider too graphic and there is no smut.

If you can’t get the books from Amazon.com or if you can’t get them for free, please let me know and I’ll try to fix it.

Chapter Text

Chapter 54: Jaster the Tactful

At the Landing Field-
Jaster Mereel-

Standing on the edge of the Landing Field, with Obi-Wan still in his arms, Jaster was immensely happy.

The Jetii was here.

Obi-Wan was saved.

All was well. Well... almost. There was still a violent stalker to find and Death Watch and lots of other little things, but none of the ade were dying, so the day was looking bright!

Obi-Wan said to the Jetii, “Welcome to Mandalore, Master Koon.”

And Jaster very suddenly realized that Obi-Wan and little Anakin would be leaving to go back to Coruscant and his bright day darkened. Not that he let even a hint of that thought touch his face because he was not petty enough to make Obi-Wan feel badly about being reunited with his family, even if Jaster was now Obi-Wan’s ‘pretend’ buir and he rather thought that ought to count for something.

Maybe they could discuss visitation rights? Jetiise practiced adoption, if he understood everything Obi-Wan had mentioned during his stay. Obi-Wan was his Master’s foundling, after all, so if they practiced adoption, then they must surely have other similar customs to Mando’ade and, if they did, then maybe they had a similar custom to that of Shared Aliit.

The Jetii and Obi-Wan spoke for a little while and Jaster politely pretended not to be listening, even though he still held Obi-Wan.

“We have much to discus, Padawan Kenobi,” Master Koon said. He stood close enough to put a hand on Obi-Wan’s arm. “But I think it will hold for a little while.” He moved his hand up to put it lightly against Obi-Wan’s cheek. “You were sorely missed and worried for. When we had word that you were unwell and that you were attacked... everyone at the Temple was concerned.”

“I appreciate the concern, Master. It’s been... well... busy here. But everyone has been kind. Do you know how long it will take for the antidote to take effect? I don’t feel any different.”

“It will take time,” Master Koon said with easy patience. “It took some time for the illness to fully take hold, so it will take time to heal it. It may be some days before you feel yourself, again, but you are in no further danger. When you do feel completely well,” his voice went worryingly serious. “You know what will happen? Because of your broken bond with your Master?”

“I know. I felt it when he died, but that pain went away when I got sick. I expect it will return when I get well?”

“Yes. But you aren’t alone. We’ll help you and teach you to heal the wound.”

Jaster wasn’t entirely sure what they were talking about, but it seemed a bit rude to interrupt. He was brought back to the conversation when Obi-Wan tapped his arm. “Please, you can let me down. I’m sure I can stand on my own now.”

Jaster narrowed his eyes. He was not at all certain of that.

“With or without the walking stick you were trying to hide from me when we spoke on the transmission?” Master Koon asked.

Obi-Wan turned faintly pink. “I... I wasn’t hiding it. Not really. It just seemed like the walking stick was an extra detail that would only make you upset so I made the decision not to disturb your peace of mind.”

Master Koon did not look amused. “As kind as it is for you to be looking out for my best interests, I think we are going to have a long chat about pride and the importance of self-care.” At Obi-Wan’s pleading look, Master Koon finally said, “However, challenging oneself does build character. You may stand and walk and if I feel you need help you will not argue. Are we agree?”

Obi-Wan nodded, eagerly. “Yes, Master Koon.”

So Jaster put Obi-Wan on his feet and was happy to see that Master Koon immediately took Obi-Wan’s arm to help him balance.

Then a shout rang out from the unexpected crowd surrounding them. “Go back where you came from, Jetii scum!”

Jaster let out a shocked gasp and turned to the crowd. “Who said that?!”

There was a small commotion near the back of the crowd. A different voice called, “Sorry, he won’t be a problem anymore. Go back to what you were doing.”

Master Koon, as if he only just realized they had an audience, slowly looked around the crowd. “Goodness, we do seem to be a bit distracting. I wouldn’t want to interfere with anyone’s day. Maybe we should move this to a more private area.”

Again, someone from the crowd called out, in Basic, “Don’t mind us!”

Another person shouted, “Yeah, pretend we’re not here. Just stand there and look pretty!”

Jaster blushed. What a way to make an impression!

Thankfully, the Jetii didn’t seem to be offended. He laughed, “What a welcoming people!” He looked closely at Obi-Wan. “You look a bit pale, Padawan Kenobi. Very soon, you will be feeling well, again, but you must rest for now.”

“Of course, Master Koon. I’m sure Master Che will have me locked in the infirmary for days when we get back to the Temple.”

Master Koon patted Obi-Wan’s hand. “We’ll talk about that in a little while.” Then he turned his full attention to Jaster. “I remember you. Alor Mereel, who has been guarding our younglings. It is so very good to meet you in person.” He fairly radiated warmth.

Jaster said nothing.

Nothing. Jaster had nothing to say. It felt like his throat had frozen. The reality of having to speak to the Jetii he’d been so eager to meet - even before he’d met Obi-Wan and Anakin, he’d wanted to meet one of the mystic warrior monks - came crashing down with one of them standing right in front of him. He couldn’t think of a single bloody thing to say!

Obi-Wan’s heart failure? No, probably not a thing to mention in public. He knew he’d have had a fit it someone told him that Jango had temporarily died.

The attack and Obi-Wan’s missing braid? No. Given Obi-Wan’s reaction to the attack, it was likely an extremely sensitive matter that should be dealt with in private.

The fact that Obi-Wan’s attacker hadn’t yet been caught? No. No point in having Obi-Wan worry more.

The fact that little Anakin had been attacked and splattered with pink paint? Definitely not a topic to discuss with an audience. He’d had rumors that people had seen Anakin running through the halls of the Fortress like that and were out for blood on his behalf. Jaster appreciated the sentiment, but it probably wouldn’t do to inflame the Jetii in the first ten minutes of meeting him.

He could honestly think of nothing to say. So he smiled brightly. “Hi!”

Obi-Wan gave a little sniff of a laugh. “Master Plo Koon, Council Member of the High Council of the Jedi Order, may I introduce Mand’alor Jaster Mereel of Clan Mereel. As I said, he’s taken very good care of Anakin and myself - shown us every hospitality and kindness that we could wish for. Also, I gave Mand’alor Mereel permission to use my name.”

Out of habit, Jaster moved forward for a hug, but stopped himself before he actually touched Master Koon. To greet someone without a hug seemed terribly cold, but he didn’t want to make anyone uneasy and Obi-Wan had mentioned that many Jetii weren’t comfortable with physical contact.

Obi-Wan, that clever lad, seemed to realize Jaster’s discomfort and told Master Koon, “Where Mand’alor Mereel comes from, it is customary to hug when greeting people. I’m sure he doesn’t want to offend you by being too familiar.” Then he stepped back and, oddly enough, smirked.

Master Koon happily said, “I would never disrespect another person’s culture and, as the old saying goes - when on Corellia, do as the Corellians do.” And then Jaster was being hugged by the Jetii. A warm, strong hug. “I am pleased to know that you were looking after our younglings. Thank you. We are all very grateful to know that they have been in the care of such a kind person.” He pulled back from the hug and gave Jaster such a look that even with the mask the Jetii wore, Jaster could see approval and it inspired such a warm reaction that he hadn’t felt since his own buire had died many years ago.

Such good manners! Such humility! Jaster was going to have to take another look at his history sources detailing interactions between Mando’ade and the Jetiise because something was very off. None of his history books mentioned the Jetiise being so friendly. Clearly, there was much to be learned, much they could teach one another and cultivate a strong relationship between their two people to the benefit of all -

“Mand’alor! Mand’alor Mereel!”

Jaster turned to find a Mando’ad standing just a few feet behind him.

“I’m Uven Tallydin from Mandalore This Morning News Broadcast. Can we have a statement?” She spoke very quickly in Basic and kept darting looks at both Obi-Wan and Master Koon before she asked, “Jedi Master, can you tell us what brings you here? Does it have anything to do with the rumors about the attacks on the foundlings? Everyone has heard about the pink paint and the public attack on the older foundling,” she gestured to Obi-Wan, who tugged his hood down further over his head. “Our viewers are eager to know.”

Jaster pulled out his blaster and shot the ground near her feet. She jumped back and turned her attention back to Jaster. He shot the ground at her feet again, and, again, she jumped back. Jaster stared at her and raised his chin. “No comment.”

The journalist scampered off and Jaster shook his head, disappointed at such a show of poor manners. Really! To talk about such attacks in public when little Obi-Wan was clearly still disturbed! And Master Koon was obviously a kind-hearted soul who would be deeply disturbed when he learned what had happened to Obi-Wan and Anakin, so such things needed to be handled delicately... with tact. Good thing Jaster had plenty of that.

He could break the news gently.

Something like, “They were savagely attacked and I’m pretty sure they’ll need long term therapy. Also, lots of people saw little Anakin running around with pink paint on his face so I’ve had to put guards on the attacker so he doesn’t get killed prematurely. We’re still hunting Obi-Wan’s attacker and we’ll kill her as soon as we find her. Nothing to worry about.”

Yeah. Delicate and tactful.

“I think,” Jaster said, feeling much more confidant in his aspirations for friendly relations with the Jettise. “That we should retire to the Fortress to rest. It will be a little while before my ad returns with the other Jetiise, so we may as well rest. We’ll come back later.” They started walking and the people dispersed. Jaster may have heard several comments about, “There are more coming! Let’s go tell everyone!”, But he kept his focus on his new guest. Obi-Wan walked between the two of them and they went slowly for Obi-Wan’s sake. After a few moments of silence, Jaster said, “So... when he first got here, Obi-Wan mentioned that the Sith are back. I’d like to know more.”

Before Master Koon could reply, they were interrupted by, “Just a minute! I’d like a word!” A booming voice from behind made them all stop and turn. Kal Skirata, his helmet off and under one arm, marched over to them. He went right to Master Koon and, after taking a moment to visibly calm himself, he growled out. “Do not EVER jump out of my ship! You nearly gave me a stroke!”

“Oh, dear. I’m terribly sorry.” Master Koon hung his head a little. “I really was perfectly safe, though. I give you my word. And it wasn’t so much of a jump and it was a fall - a well-controlled fall.”

Kal, whom Jaster had known for years and was his oldest and closest friend, narrowed his eyes at Master Koon. “Controlled or not, you could have waited thirty seconds for the ship to land!”

“But I really did need to get to young Padawan Kenobi. How could I delay when he’s had such a rough time?”

Jaster silently nodded his agreement. He would have jumped out of a moving ship to save Jango in a heartbeat so Master Koon’s leap from Kal’s ship seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

Kal, without looking at Jaster, snapped, “Don’t you justify doing dumb things, Jaster! I know what you’re thinking!” When Kal did turn to look at Jaster, he said, “Jas, there are two other Jetiise heading this way with Jango. Seems they had a bit of a run in with some scum wanting to play act as Mando’ade.”

Jaster blinked, shocked. “What?”

“They were wearing fake armor.”

It was such a shocking thing that Jaster’s eyes went wide. “They were what? Eww. That’s just... that’s wrong!”

“My thoughts, exactly. I’m sure your Jango will handle it. Don’t know what’s going on, but I think we all need to sit down and talk about this sooner or later.”

They headed back to the Fortress. It was a long, slow walk, but they all paced themselves to match Obi-Wan’s speed. Jaster worried about him walking without the walking stick, but Master Koon stayed right at Obi-Wan’s side and kept a hand on his arm. They talked about very little as they walked, just pointed out this and that to Master Koon and talking to him about Obi-Wan’s medical condition which, Master Koon reassured them, was no longer an issue.

“Arkon poisoning is not common as we’ve known for many, many years to avoid it, but the antidote is well tested. There is no doubt at all that it will work.”

When they returned to the Fortress, Kal Skirata begged off that he had to get some post mission work done and left them. The three of them continued on until they reached the residential wing of the Fortress. It was very quiet, there was no one at all around. They soon came to a small alcove off the main hall. Obi-Wan stopped walking which made Jaster and Master Koon stop.

“Master Koon,” Obi-Wan said, taking a step into the alcove. “May I speak to you before we rejoin the others?”

“Of course.” Master Koon stepped into the alcove with Obi-Wan. It wasn’t much of a hiding spot - it was only about as big as a small closet and anyone who walked by would see and hear them, but at least they were out of immediate view so it must have seemed like a sort of privacy.

The moment they were both in the alcove, Obi-Wan bowed to Master Koon, then stood very straight with his arms stiff and tense at his sides. “Master Koon, I know I’m a Senior Padawan and I’m too old for it, but I’ve been having a very rough few weeks.” He looked at Master Koon with the saddest eyes Jaster had ever seen. “May I?”

Master Koon apparently knew exactly what Obi-Wan was asking and wordlessly opened his arms.

Obi-Wan rushed into his arms and they hugged, Obi-Wan pressed close enough to the older Jetii that he buried his face in Master Koon’s shoulder. Master Koon gave his arms a peculiar little twitch that made his brown robe flare out and, when it settled, it covered Obi-Wan like a blanket.

“It’s been so hard!” Obi-Wan said. He whispered the words, but the hall was so quiet that Jaster could hear it all and hear the desperate relief dripping off every word. “Anakin’s been hurt and he keeps getting hurt and I PROMISED I’d take care of him and there were pirates and I got hurt straight away, so fast that I don’t even remember it happening and Anakin was alone and he might have been killed! He was a slave and he had a bomb in his back! Some monster stuck a bomb in a little youngling’s back! And there was a Death Watch attack and Anakin got a concussion and wouldn’t wake up and then my friend had to go running into battle and there were explosions and fighting. And I kept getting more and more tired and I thought I was going to die and I didn’t want to die and I know I shouldn’t say it, but I was scared and Master’s dead! My Master’s dead! I can’t feel him! He’s gone and I tried to save him, I tried, but there were energy barriers and I couldn’t get through and I watched, I saw him die and that Sith was happy Master died and I got so angry! Anakin needs therapy ‘cause he went up in the battle and he was exposed to all that death and I know it’s bothering him, but he won’t say anything to me and I don’t know how to ask him without making it worse. Master Qui-Gon would know. He’d know just what to say and do to help, but he’s not here ‘cause he’s dead and I’m alone and I can’t feel anyone. Master’s dead. It doesn’t hurt. I’m just empty. It doesn’t hurt and it’s supposed to hurt.”

Through it all, Master Koon held Obi-Wan. He said nothing and let Obi-Wan say everything that he must have been keeping bottled up since the day they’d found him feverish and barely lucid after the pirate’s attack. Jaster was immensely grateful that Master Koon had arrived because it couldn’t be healthy for Obi-Wan to be holding onto such big emotions.

Jaster turned his back and waited. There was no reason to intrude on such a moment.

A bit later, he heard Obi-Wan say, in a rather teary manner, “I’m SO glad you came.”

Master Koon replied in his deep, rumbling voice, “As am I. It sounds like you’ve had a very busy time.”

The vambrace Jaster wore let out a single beep of an alert. Rather than interrupt Obi-Wan’s long overdue emotional outburst, Jaster took a few steps away from the alcove before he pressed a button on his vambrace and said, “Mereel here. What’s going on?”

“Sir, you have an incoming transmission from Chancellor Palpatine of the Republic in the Communication Center.”

It was something he really should deal with, but he couldn’t imagine that whatever the Chancellor wanted to talk about was more important than seeing that Obi-Wan and the first Jetii guest Mandalore had seen in decades were comfortably settled in his rooms. He didn’t want to put any pressure on Satine, but she had told him she was quite comfortable dealing with political matters, that she’d been well trained for it during her schooling on Coruscant. The more he thought of it, the better he liked the idea. Satine wouldn’t like feeling she was being kept around out of charity, she’d made that clear more than once, and it would do her good to have the people see was in a respectable position of responsibility. “Contact Duchess Kryze and tell her what’s going on. I trust her to deal with Chancellor Palpatine until I arrive.”

“Yes, Mand’alor.”

With that minor matter settled, he went back to the alcove and overheard Obi-Wan, as calm and collected as he ever was, say, “Thank you for letting me go on like that. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to meditate well, lately.”

“That will be fixed very soon. And I’m sure you’ll feel better once the others arrive. Masters Windu and Dooku will be very pleased to see you.”

Obi-Wan froze. “Grandmaster is coming?”

“Of course. You didn’t think he would abandon you, I hope?”

“No. No, it’s just,” Obi-Wan’s hand drifted up to his bandaged head, half hidden under the hood of his robe. “Well. I didn’t expect... Jaster?”

“Yes?”

“You said that a lot of Mandalorians have been waiting to meet Jedi, right?”

“Oh, yes. I’m sure it’ll only be a matter of time before my people are challenging yours.”

“Do you think any of them would be interested in sparing with my grandmaster?”

Master Koon said, “This is a strange request and I find myself curious. Is there an explanation, Padawan?”

“I just... having a spar will put him in a good mood.”

“He will be in a good mood just seeing you. I’m not sure I like the way your mind is going - it’s as if you think your grandmaster won’t be happy to see you. He will be.”

“I know. I really do, but he’s going to get upset the minute he sees me.”

“Why?”

Obi-Wan opened his mouth to say something, then closed it. He sighed. “It’s not really all that important. Never mind. Pretend I didn’t say anything.”

Master Koon took Obi-Wan’s arm as they started to walk, again. “I can feel that you’re upset about something. I won’t press the issue, but be secure in knowing that your grandmaster is here for you. No matter what you think the trouble is, he is on your side - we all are.”

They went back to Jaster’s apartment with no other issues and Jaster left them there. The room was empty. “Satine’s taking care of a little chore for me and I expect Doctor Gihan and Anakin have gone with her. Obi’ka, make our guest comfortable. There are plenty of snacks and drinks.” He looked at Master Koon. “And there are environmental controls in every room if you want to take off your mask and make yourself comfortable. Obi’ka knows how to use everything.” Then he turned back to Obi-Wan with a very serious expression, “I’ll be only a few moments, but you rest and if you don’t feel well, call for help. Understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

Jaster left them, considering how he could hint to Obi-Wan that with the (pretend) adoption, Obi-Wan was very welcome to call Jaster ‘buir’. He’d be very happy to hear it just once before Obi-Wan returned to Coruscant.

The technician who’d earlier contacted Jaster met him at the door of the Communication Center. “Duchess Kryze is speaking with the Republic’s Chancellor, Mand’alor. We’ve emptied the room to let them speak without an audience. Doctor Gihan and the little ad are waiting in the room, but they’re not interfering.”

“Right then.” Jaster went into the room. The first thing he noticed was that Satine, standing in the middle of the room so she could speak with the Republic’s Chancellor, whose image was projected onto one of the large screens mounted on a wall, had changed her clothes. She had put on one of her Republic style gowns, but still wore the armorweave cloak he’d given her. A glance at Anakin showed that he, too, had changed and now wore his little Jetii outfit. Anakin also looked rather unhappy and stood with his arms crossed over his chest. Anakin stood with Doctor Gihan, next to the door where they were both well out of sight of the Republic’s Chancellor.

Jaster whispered to Doctor Gihan. “Our guest and Obi-Wan are in my apartment. Go sit with them, please.”

“Of course.”

When Doctor Gihan had gone, Jaster gave Anakin, who wore a vastly unhappy scowl, a pat on the head before he went to join Satine. “Hello. Sorry, I’m late.”

The Republic’s Chancellor, an older man with a soft expression, said, “You would be Mand’alor Mereel, I believe?”

“Yup.”

“Well, in that case, you’re the person I wanted to speak to. I am Chancellor Palpatine, the Chancellor of the Republic.”

Jaster wasn’t entirely sure what a Chancellor was, but Satine smiled brightly at Chancellor Palapatine. “If I may offer formal introductions? Chancellor Palpatine, this is Mand’alor Jaster Mereel, ruler of the Mandalorian Empire. Mand’alor Mereel, this is Chancellor Palpatine, the ruler of the Republic. Along with the Senate, of course.”

Chancellor Palpatine looked from Satine to Jaster, then focused all his attention on Jaster. “I am very pleased to hear about the peaceful transition of power on Mandalore and I’m sure your rule will be a long one. I just wanted to send official greetings and congratulations on your conquest.”

Conquest? Jaster frowned. He hadn’t exactly conquered anything, he’d just showed up and Satine gave him a room. Everything after that just sort of fell into place. Still, no point in arguing when it probably wouldn’t make much difference.

“And while I am speaking with you, I was hoping for a bit of information. If you would be so good to help, that is. You see, I’m trying to contact some Jedi friends of mine. The last I’d heard they were near the Mandalorian border. Have you had any reports of Jedi in or near your domain? Or even Jedi children? Two youngsters that I’m rather fond of seemed to have disappeared and I would very much like to have them returned. So if you -”

Anakin started waving his arms angrily. Jaster blinked as Anakin, who was glaring so darkly that Jaster was surprised the lad wasn’t growling, made a fist and swung it, as if he were punching someone.

Jaster turned back to Chancellor Palpatine. “Excuse me. Sat’ika?” He gestured to Anakin. “Do you mind?”

“Of course not.” She went to the door and bent over low enough that she and Anakin could whisper to each other.

Jaster tried to keep up his conversation with Chancellor Palpatine, tried to pay attention, but he watched Satine and Anakin out of the corner of his eye. Anakin shook his head and made a lot of big gestures with his arms. Satine listened to Anakin, then turned sharply and frowned at the image of Chancellor Palpatine. Jaster found that he suddenly disliked Palpatine for no better reason than he made the ade unhappy.

Satine and Anakin spoke for a few more moments before Satine went to one of the terminals on the wall near the door. She pressed a few buttons and the transmission disconnected, leaving only a blank screen on the wall.

With a terrible glower on his face, Anakin bit out, “That’s the creepy senator! Don’t tell him we’re here - he’s gonna do something bad to Obi!”

To Be Continued...

ade - children
ad - child
buir - parent
Jetii - Jedi
Jetiise - multiple Jedi
Mando'ad - Mandalorian
Mando'ade - Mandalorians
aliit - family

Chapter Text

Author’s Note: Dear readers, I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to change my updating schedule. Instead of posting a new chapter every week, I’m going to try to post a new chapter every other week. I’ve been having so much fun with this fic that I’ve been neglecting working on my next novel, so I really should work on that. Hope everyone likes this chapter. Thank you to everyone who’s been leaving comments and kudos - they’re very much appreciated.

Chapter 55: Crawling

Mandalore-
Keldabe-
The Fortress-
Herna-

At a small eatery just outside the Fortress, Herna sat with a mug of water. She had some credits, but not enough to be wasteful. She sat on one of the several benches that had been placed outside the eatery for customers to relax on and tried very hard not to stare at the Fortress. The Fortress where her boy was imprisoned.

She sipped her water, but kept her face tilted slightly down in an effort to keep her face at least a little hidden. It didn’t help. Her face was bare. She didn’t have a single piece of armor on. She hadn’t felt so vulnerable in years. She was naked. How nightmarish. Her flesh crawled every time some stranger looked at her face. It was hard to breathe.

‘It’s for him. It’s all for him.’

She had given up her soul.

‘He’s worth it. He’s worth everything.’

She sipped her water.

Really, giving up her armor had done exactly what she’d hoped it would - it had made her anonymous. She was still being hunting, but those who hunted her only had an image of her wearing armor, not her face.

‘Hunting.’ Herna looked down into the water in her mug. Her bare face stared up at her and she looked away, repulsed. ‘Perhaps this shouldn’t be treated like a rescue mission, but a bounty. If I can’t reach a target directly, then I can lure them out into the open. I’ll need bait.’

She thought of the little boy. She’d seen him with her boy several times and knew that he was important to her boy.

She thought of the girl who’d interfered when Herna had tried to speak to her boy at the Festival of Stars. Her boy had been quick to defend the girl.

Herna sighed. Those two little ade... they would have done well with her people. There was real spirit in their eyes, a willingness to fight that only needed to be trained. Her people would have loved them.

‘Not your people,’ a little voice whispered in the back of her mind with such bitterness that her stomach turned. ‘Not anymore. Never again. You showed your face.’

Herna tried to push the thought away. She had more important things to think about.

But that voice was persistent and hissed, ‘You hurt an ad - your boy. Demagolka. You made him bleed.’

It had been for his own good, though. She hadn’t wanted to cause him pain, but sometimes hard things needed to be done. Parenting wasn’t easy.

Oh! How she regretted not being able to save Obi-Wan when she had finally - finally! After so many years - found him at the Festival of Stars! She had caught him alone, had been close enough to touch him, to lay her gloved hands on his sweet face and look into those clear, almost grey eyes of his. And then she had seen the braid and what an offense it was! Like a chain that held a slave captive, that sickening braid had to be removed. She had once heard rumor that if a Jedi padawan had their braid removed, it meant they would no longer be a Jedi. The pain she’d caused her boy was regrettable and she should have thought to use her knife to spare him such pain, but as long as the braid was gone, she was satisfied with what she’d done and didn’t regret a moment of it, not even when he’d fallen to the ground, seemingly stunned at the loss of his braid.

No matter.

He’d get over it.

Since she’d liberated him of that terrible braid, Herna had come to the conclusion that her boy just didn’t understand. They’d been interrupted and she hadn’t had time to explain things. She would have to talk to him, again. Perhaps send him a note... or a gift.

Very suddenly, the city seemed to come alive. There were several Mando’ade flying towards the Landing Field.

“The Jetiise,” someone nearby shouted. “The Jetiise are here!”

More people took flight.

Herna started running. Her jet pack was gone, so she ran and ran until her breath came in ragged gasps and her lungs hurt. When she finally reached the Landing Field there were dozens of Mando’ade silent and watching while a ship descended. Her eyes immediately spotted her boy, unfortunately being held by Mereel, but then she looked up at the ship.

She watched when someone leapt from that ship, inspiring awed murmurs from the gathered crowd. She watched when that someone raced across the Landing Field so quickly that sand and dust was kicked up into a great cloud in their wake. It was a Kel-Dor Jetii, she realized just before the Jetii came to a stop in front of Mereel, still holding Herna’s boy. She was far enough away that she couldn’t hear what was said, but close enough that she could see them. The Jetii pulled something from a box he’d been carrying - a syringe that he used on Herna’s boy.

Her boy smiled at the Kel-Dor.

Herna felt it like a knife to the heart. It was almost as if her boy was happy to see the older Jetii. He had once smiled at the other Jetii - the one he’d called Master Qui-Gon.

Jedi were mind readers, or something. She deliberately thought of a tooka playing in a field of flowers until it was at the forefront of her mind. Perhaps it might be good enough to fool someone. Perhaps not.

Herna walked away. She had to. She couldn’t bear to watch her boy smiling at the older Jetii, as if he wanted to be with the Jetii, as if he cared for them. She couldn’t watch. She had taken his braid - it should have been enough.

Maybe she needed to destroy his lightsaber, too.

Herna walked back into the city. She needed to get her boy away from this place - from Mandalore, Mereel, and any Jetii - so she could talk to him and make him understand that they were meant to be together. She had given up her people and her armor for him, after all. He needed to be with her.

Maybe it was time to get some bait.

Naboo-
Quinlan Vos -

They reached the prison quickly. Naboo didn’t have much in the way of prisons, they simply weren’t needed as the planet had a well-formed methodology of rehabilitation for criminal offenders and a robust amount of preventative measures including such things as mandatory military service for people who were unemployed which gave them an income, housing, and occupation until they figured out what they wanted to do with their lives, an excellent education system, and high quality mental health care. Such things and more added up to a happy population and low crime rate. Of course, nothing was ever perfect and Naboo did still need a few prisons.

“Are you going to come in?” Quinlan asked when they reached the prison - a rather nice-looking building painted in bright white with cheery yellow trim around the windows. There was a very fine garden surrounding the prison with a multitude of brilliantly colored flowers, through which a winding path ran.

Master Tholme nodded. “Certainly. Where shall we go first?”

“Talk to the prisoner, I suppose.” The Force was insistent that this was the place to be, that he would find ... something... here. He just had to figure out where and what and hoped it actually meant something because then this mission could end and he could go find Obi-Wan.

The prison was actually quite nice. The halls were brightly lit. Everything was painted in cool, calm colors. There were soft carpets on the floors. Everything - absolutely everything - was sparkling clean. Quinlan wasn’t entirely sure he approved. It went against Jedi teachings, but he felt that people who did bad things should be unhappy. The pleasant music being played throughout the facility was too relaxing, too peaceful.

Still, not his place to judge how Naboo treated its’ criminals and, judging by those low crime rates, they seemed to be doing something right.

As they walked, Quinlan and Master Tholme kept up a simple sort of mind trick, a subtle one that merely encouraged everyone who happened to see them to ignore them. It was an immensely useful skill for a Jedi Shadow to master.

Master Thome, who currently walked several yards behind Quinlan, had taught Quinlan that trick years ago and let him practice by wandering around in the Senate Building to see if anyone noticed him. No one had noticed him for years.

He went through long halls decorated with wall art and through what looked like a lounge that had a good supply of board games and learning materials. He went through a large room with many small, round tables that he guessed must have been a place to eat because it was connected to a large, immaculately cleaned kitchen. Then he went out into a very nice exercise yard that was, of course, surrounded by a very high fence.

When they reached the exercise yard, Quinlan stopped and looked around. There were no prisoners out at the moment, so it left himself and Master Tholme alone. The grass was bright green. A border of pale-yellow flowers lined the exercise yard. There was a forest just beyond the fence and the setting sun shone just over the top of the trees. “Master?”

“Yes?” Master Tholme moved to stand next to Quinlan.

“I think this prison is nicer than Coruscant.”

Master Tholme laughed.

“No, I’m serious. Grass. Fresh air. The kitchen smelled nice - I think they’re baking fresh bread. I’m pretty sure Queen Amidala treats her prisoners better than the Senate treats us.”

Master Tholme was quiet for a moment. “It is something to think about, isn’t it? When this is over, we should come back and commit a crime. Shoplifting, perhaps? Then we might enjoy the luxuries of the Naboo prison system. Then again, I understand Alderaan has art classes in their prisons. I’ve always wanted to try crochet.”

Quinlan shared a grin with his Master and they continued on their way.

It took some time before they found the prison cells, which were, unsurprisingly, not called ‘cells’ at all. The small private rooms where the prisoners were housed were call ‘dormitories’. There was a locked door to get through before they could enter the wing where the dormitories were and a guard in a red uniform sat at a desk next to that locked door.

The guard looked up the moment Quinlan let himself be noticed. She frowned, then looked him up and down and smiled.

Quinlan had to fight not to groan. Not for the first time on a mission, he wished he’d been able to hide himself in his robes.

“Well, hi.” The guard stood up and walked around her desk to stand in front of Quinlan. She was tiny woman with short cut hair and Quinlan could tell through the Force that she thought she was extremely attractive. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there. How can I help you?”

It did not escape Quinlan’s notice at all that Master Tholme still hid himself and unless something caused the guard to look directly at Master Tholme, she wouldn’t see him. He just couldn’t figure why Master Tholme didn’t seem to want to get involved in the mission.

“I’m here to speak with one of the prisoners.”

“Of course,” she said, pleasantly, stepping closer to Quinlan. “We have a very open visitor’s policy. You’ll have to leave any weapons here and sign the visitor’s log.” She reached out to touch his bare arm, but Quinlan stepped away from her before she could. Instead of being offended, the guard’s smiled broadened with amusement. “Who is it you’d like to speak with?”

“Nute Gunray.”

She looked a bit surprised. “He’s a special case, honey. I can’t let just anyone in to see him.”

Quinlan cringed at being called ‘honey’ by someone he didn’t even know.

Still, the guard kept smiling. “Still, I suppose for such a nice-looking young man I can make an exception.” She raised a hand up, as if she would touch Quinlan’s hair.

Done. Quinlan was absolutely done with her.

He did NOT want to be touched. He looked at the guard and narrowed his eyes. “You want to give me your key card.”

The guard’s face went lax... dull. She held out her key card and let Quinlan take it.

“Good. And now you want to sit down go back to what you were doing before I got here. Forget I’m here.”

Without another word, the woman went back to her desk where she sat, reading from her computer terminal while Quinlan unlocked the door of the prison’s dormitory and he and Master Tholme walked in.

“Are you alright?” Master Tholme asked as they walked down the hall that was lined with dormitory rooms.

“Oh, sure. You almost get used to that sort of thing after a while.” It hadn’t been the first time, and probably wouldn’t be the last time, that someone tried to get overly friendly with him. Much as he preferred his shirts without sleeves, he was going to start wearing his robes everywhere if this sort of thing kept happening. Maybe people would get the hint if he didn’t expose any of his skin. Maybe he should hide his face, too. Quinlan said none of that to his Master as he knew very well that Master Tholme, while appreciating a well-crafted disguise, did not approve of changing oneself because of other people’s stupidity.

Nute Gunray was in his dormitory. There was a small window in the door of all the dormitories for the guards to keep an eye on the inmates and Quinlan peeked in it to watch for a moment while the prisoner lay on his bed and stared up at ceiling in apparent boredom. When he went into the dormitory, Gunray sat up, abruptly. “Who are you? You’re not one of the guards!”

“No. I’m just here to chat.” Quinlan was not the best at influencing people, not like Obi-Wan, but he did his best to project a strong feeling of peace and comfort into the room, to make the prisoner feel at ease. “I’d like to know why you attacked Naboo.”

Quinlan’s effort must have worked because Gunray began to speak at great length about invasion and the reason and why it was legal and how dare they detain him... it was just business. It wasn’t as if it had even been his idea.

“Then whose idea was it?” Quinlan asked, keeping his voice soft and light. “Who suggested this would be a good idea.”

Gunray hesitated, something big making him fight against the ease Quinlan was trying to fill the room with. “I am not permitted to... it’s confidential.”

“You can tell me.”

“He’ll kill me.”

Quinlan had very little sympathy for someone who waged war against a peaceful, completely non-threatening population of civilians. If the prisoner died, it really wasn’t much of a loss, as far as he was concerned. Maybe that wasn’t a very Jedi attitude, but if the prisoner didn’t want to be killed, then he should stop killing people. “But he left you here. And the war is over. It’s alright. You can tell me.”

“I never saw him, not really. He kept his face in darkness.”

Quinlan and Master Tholme left the dormitories. Quinlan made sure to lock the doors behind him because the people of Naboo didn’t need escaped prisoners to deal with on top of everything else. He returned to key card to the overly touchy guard and made sure she was in her right mind before he left the dormitory area. They didn’t leave the prison but went to another wing of the building where they found the storage room for prisoner’s personal items.

There were a great many large containers stacked neatly on shelves and each container was marked with both a name and a prisoner number. It was the work of only a few moments to find the right container. Quinlan used a tiny amount of the Force to help him pull the container off the shelf and onto the floor where he took a little time to crack the numerical code that locked the container and opened it.

Quinlan looked down into the container. There were clothes, a transmitter, and other small things Gunray had on him when he’d been taken into custody. As he examined it all, he took off his gloves and braced his mind for what was to come. When he was ready, he put his hands on the stuff in the container. The visions hit hard, assaulting his mind - vibrantly clear.

Conversations... images of Gunray walking around his ship... a rather bad liquor he’d drunk several weeks ago... and talking to a hooded man.

Quinlan froze, letting his hands stay where they’d found that echo of a moment in time. It was a hat. Gunray had been wearing a hat when he’d spoken to the hooded man. Quinlan listened and watched and he knew.

After a time, Quinlan raised his hands and took a deep breath. He felt like his flesh was crawling. He shook his head and blinked his eyes, pulling his gloves back on. “Master?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to need to mediate after seeing that.”

“Alright. Whatever you need.”

Master Tholme had always been so understanding about Quinlan’s rare ability.

They put the storage container back where they’d found it, taking nothing with them, and left the prison. It wasn’t until they were well away from the prison that Quinlan said, “I hate doing that. I feel filthy.”

“I’m sorry you don’t like it,” Master Tholme said, putting a hand on Quinlan’s shoulder. “Did you learn anything useful?”

Quinlan laughed and kept laughing for a minute. “Oh, yeah. It’s Chancellor Palpatine.”

“What?”

“Gunray spoke to him lots of times about planning and executing the plan for Naboo. Chancellor Palpatine - the sweet old man, the gentle soul who says he will surely lead us all to peace - orchestrated the war here. He was the one giving orders to Gunray.”

“Isn’t that curious.” Master Tholme said, as clam as he ever was. He so rarely got upset about anything. “Why would he do such a thing?”

“Well... it did lead to him going from being a senator to being the Chancellor. I’m pretty sure that has something to do with it.”

“And what will you do with this information? Should we announce it to the galaxy and oust him from office?”

Quinlan shook his head. “No point. Who would believe me outside the Order?”

“Are you saying that this information is useless?”

With a bright smile, Quinlan, again, shook his head. “No! Master, you’re asking weird questions today. I know you know the answers. Did you think I’d forgotten all my lessons? We can use this as the blackmail Master Yoda wanted. We just have to threaten Palpatine with it. Even if we don’t have physical proof, the rumors alone will be enough to kill his career and ruin his reputation. He’ll be voted out of office so fast his head will spin. After all, the Senators will have to think ‘If he’s willing do that to his own planet, what is he willing to do to mine?’ And no one will trust him.”

“A very good idea. And will we tell Queen Amidala?”

“I think so. She deserves to know and even if she doesn’t fully believe me, she’ll be cautious around him.”

Master Tholme patted Quinlan’s shoulder. “It looks like you have it all figured out. Well, it seems we have a choice.” They didn’t stop walking as they spoke and no one they passed on the street seemed at all concerned with them, which was how it should be with Jedi Shadows. “We must get this information to Master Yoda so it can be properly stored and recorded for the next time the Chancellor makes demands of our people. After that we can either go find where Master Yoda has taken our people or we can go see if the other Masters need help finding young Obi-Wan.”

Quinlan’s breath caught. “Really? I thought for sure you’d want us to go straight to wherever Master Yoda went!”

“It is entirely possible that I may be mildly... well... concerned about Padawan Kenobi. He has lost his Master in a terrible way and has been alone when he should have been surrounded by those who care for him. He even has care of a youngling. I would not question an opportunity to see for myself that the boy is well.”

Quinlan, who had no intention at all of arguing against finding his dearest friend, laughed. “Master... you’re such a softy!”

To Be Continued...

Ad - child
Ade - children
Demagolka - monster
Jetii - Jedi
Jetiise - multiple Jedi
Mando’ad - Mandalorian
Mando’ade - multiple Mandalorians

Chapter Text

Chapter 56: Sneaking

Mandalore-
The Fortress-
Master Plo Koon-

The home of Mand’alor Mereel, Plo decided, was surprisingly modest. Like all Jedi, he had seen his fair share of the homes of the rich and powerful and he had never seen one so modest... so unassuming. It was comfortable and there was a sense of peace in the rooms that he found very pleasant. There was no ridiculous showing of precious gems or metals in wasteful decorations and even the size of the place seemed quite reasonable, though by Jedi standards it did seem like a lot of living space for just a few people.

Sitting on the couch in the home of Mand’alor Mereel, Plo was as content as he could be. Obi-Wan, for all that he was considered a well-grown young man by human standards, sat close to Plo in silence, as if he were a small youngling, again. But he had been going through a tough time, lately, and Plo didn’t mind giving any comfort Obi-Wan needed. They had sat together like that for a few moments and Plo was happy enough to let the silence extend as long as Obi-Wan needed it.

There was much to do.

Much to consider.

Being at the mercy of the Mandalorians was not so troublesome. Plo sensed no malice at all from Mand’alor Mereel, despite the obvious fact that he was clearly dangerous and Plo’s limited research before he’d left the Temple with Mace in search of the younglings had taught him that Mand’alor Mereel had a reputation as an enthusiastic warrior who had no great moral qualms about killing. Even when Plo had first arrive and stood before the mass of Mandalorians, there had been a great stew of emotions running from curiosity to hostility, the Force had been calm. The Mandalorians were dangerous, but there was no immediate threat.

So he sat with Obi-Wan.

When the door of the Mand’alor’s home opened and a stranger walked in, Obi-Wan introduced him as Doctor Gihan. He conducted a thorough exam on Obi-Wan, asking about the antidote Plo had dosed Obi-Wan with. When he was done, he went to sit at Mand’alor Mereel’s kitchen table to analyze his findings, leaving Obi-Wan and Plo alone. Obi-Wan was relaxing moment by moment.

So many things to think about.

He would need to see Qui-Gon’s body, if only to say ‘good-bye’ to the little boy who always managed to have dirt under his fingernails and a ready smile on his face.

There was a Sith, there had to be another as they were always found in pairs.

Plo gently carded his talons through Obi-Wan’s short hair and felt Obi-Wan relax just a bit more.

He had to tell Obi-Wan how and why the Order had left Coruscant and make sure that Obi-Wan didn’t for an instant think that he had somehow caused the Jedi to lose their home. It was a ridiculous idea, but Obi-Wan so frequently took on burdens that weren’t his to bear.

‘For now,’ Plo thought. ‘We can rest for a few minutes.’

After a good long while, Obi-Wan said, “I’m sorry for making a scene in the hall, but so much has been going on. I have so much to tell you.” As usual, Obi-Wan was all earnestness and seriousness.

‘We must get him home. Little Quinlan will make him laugh.’

“Tell me,” Plo said. He rested his hands on his lap. He prepared himself for any horrors Obi-Wan might tell him. Plo was no initiate, he had been a Master for many, many years and he had seen how terrible life could be outside the protection of the Temple. He steeled his shields to protect Obi-Wan from any uncomfortable emotions - Obi-Wan had already lived through what he was about to tell, there was no reason to subject him to Plo’s emotions as well. So Obi-Wan spoke. He told about everything that had happened since leaving the Temple. He told about the battle on Naboo and Queen Amidala’s humble act of begging the Gungan’s to save her people, and about Anakin flying alone into battle. His voice went dull and clinical when he spoke about the battle with the Sith.

“I lost my lightsaber,” Obi-Wan said as he took off the lightsaber that had been hanging on his belt. His voice went painfully vulnerable. “This is Master Qui-Gon’s... it should be with him. I don’t think he’d mind if I use it. It’s only for a little while and I did need to protect Anakin. So, I don’t think he’d have minded. Do you?”

“No. No, he wouldn’t want you to be unarmed.”

Obi-Wan nodded, wordlessly, and reattached the lightsaber to his belt.

Dooku had been quite right when he’d said that Obi-Wan needed a couple more years as a Padawan to strengthen his self-confidence. To even doubt for a moment that he had the right to wield his Master’s blade was a sure sign that he questioned his own judgment. Not on large issues, Plo was sure, but sometimes it was the small, personal things that were just as important as the issues that shook the galaxy.

Obi-Wan continued, “Everyone really has been very kind to us here. I told Mand’alor Mereel that I think the Mandalorians and Jedi should talk more. I think we could all be friends with a little more understanding. There’s no reason to indulge in hostilities when we have so much in common. And Anakin’s doing so much better. They took his slave chip out the minute he mentioned he’d had one.”

Plo felt a chill run up his spine. It seemed like just a moment ago that Obi-Wan had been a guest of the infirmary, having the wounds of his slave collar treated. How terrible it must have been for Obi-Wan to have to watch Anakin go through something so similar.

“And we’ve been given so much food that it seems almost wasteful. I would protest being so spoiled, but Anakin is small for his age and Doctor Gihan said the calories are just what Anakin needs.”

They spoke of the yaim be bajur. “It’s something like a boarding school,” Obi-Wan explained. “Most children are educated by their families, but if the families are unable to or if there are foundlings being brought into Mandalorian society who don’t yet have families to care for them, then they go to a yaim be bajur. There are living areas for the students who board and classrooms and outdoor areas for training and playing. There are students of all ages, too. There is a nursery for infant foundlings and there are many adults who want to become Mandalorians, but must learn the culture and language before they are allowed to go out into society alone.”

“So the yaim be bajur is to acclimate people to being Mandalorian if they don’t have anyone to help them.”

“Yes, Master Koon.” He went on to talk about an attack by Death Watch where his friend had gone out into the battle on a rescue mission and little Anakin had been knocked senseless. He talked about how his ship, a magnificent gift from Queen Amidala, had been destroyed. “We must save Anakin’s mother, Master Koon. I know we don’t have the resources to save all the slaves in the Outer Rim, but surely we can save her. Anakin desperately misses her and worries for her. I thought we could trade the ship for his mother, but then it was destroyed. Anakin believes the scraps of the ship are very valuable so I still have hope. I believe Mand’alor Mereel will help, too.”

On and on Obi-Wan spoke about his time on Mandalore, going into more detail about the things he’d blurted out in the hallway in a rush of emotion. About the food and the Festival of Stars and meeting up with his old friend, Satine Kryze. He spoke about visits to a Psych-Medic and how he had seen Anakin growing bold and curious without the threat of the Slave Chip and in the safety of the Mandalorian’s care.

Though it all, Plo listened carefully. Obi-Wan would be telling his tale again, very shortly, because there was no doubt that Mace and Dooku would want to hear every word of what had been going on, but Obi-Wan had a pressing need to speak about it as soon as possible, to let out the tension he’d been holding in, so Plo stayed quiet and let him speak about anything he wished.

“And I told you that I gave Mandalor Mereel permission to use my name. It was entirely my choice and I really do trust him. I know it’s only been a short time but I’m very comfortable with him using my name. And I let him adopt me, but it’s only pretend!” Obi-Wan said quickly, as if to defend himself. “I know this sort of thing isn’t done, but well... I had just died for a bit and he was very upset. And it just seemed right.”

Plo chuckled. “Youngling, is that what has caused you such anxiety? Is that why you worried about your grandmaster getting upset when he arrives? Do you think he will be cross because you have done something so unexpected? Perhaps I should remind you that your grandmaster is not a man to be stuck in traditions for the sake of them. He is one of the most open-minded people I have ever met. So long as you are happy and haven’t been forced into this, he won’t be angry. It may complicate your training, but any difficulties can be worked out.”

Obi-Wan didn’t answer at once. He opened his mouth, then reached up and tugged the hood of his robe down until it covered his eyes.

“No,” Plo said, cautiously. “That’s not the reason for your anxiety. Tell me.”

Still, Obi-Wan didn’t reply. He hunched his shoulders, his hands clutching into fists on his hood, as if he were determined to hold it in place.

“Padawan Kenobi, please tell me what is bothering you. I wish only to help.”

Obi-Wan’s head sunk. Slowly, he pulled back the hood of cloak. His head was wrapped with a white bandage and while it was concerning, it wasn’t until Obi-Wan began to unwrap the bandage from his head that Plo realized what had happened, what Obi-Wan had been hiding. The minute the bandage was completely off Obi-Wan’s head, Plo saw the healing bald batch on the side of Obi-Wan’s head where his braid should have been.

Gone. It was gone.

Obi-Wan turned his face away from Plo, shamed.

“I don’t know what happened,” Plo said to Obi-Wan, keeping his voice calm and relaxed. “But you may speak to me of it any time you wish.” He opened his arms and, again, Obi-Wan quickly leaned in for a hug. “You did nothing wrong.”

There was no purpose to anger. Anger wouldn’t help Obi-Wan. Anger wouldn’t comfort him or reassure him, wouldn’t magically regrow his braid. Anger was a useless emotion and yet... Plo fought to keep himself controlled. They would have to find whoever had done it. Plo let out a long, slow breath. They would find the assailant and make sure that person was never able to repeat such a crime.

At that moment, the door swung open and Obi-Wan hurriedly pulled his hood back up to cover his injury. Mand’alor Mereel walked into the room, swaggering in with a young woman and, thankfully, little Anakin Skywalker walking behind him. Such a relief to see the boy alive and well, even if he was scowling like a little black rain cloud.

“Obi!” Anakin ran to Obi-Wan and stood in front of him. “You’re still alive!”

Obi-Wan laughed, softly. “I am. Thanks to Master Koon. Anakin, Satine - this is Master Plo Koon, a member of the Jedi High Council. Master Koon, you know Anakin, but this is Duchess Satine Kryze. And, yes, Ani,” he leaned forward to look closer at Anakin. “I am alive and I plan to stay that way. Master Koon gave me the antidote, so all is well. You don’t have to worry anymore.”

As a general rule, Jedi normally shielded their minds to protect themselves from the emotions of other people as well as to protect others from picking up on their own emotions. Besides which, it was rude to listen in on other people’s emotions without very good reason. However, as Plo had two younglings he was responsible for, he did keep his shields a little open as a way of detecting anything that might hint at danger. That was how he felt a burst of joy from Anakin at being told that Obi-Wan would be fine. Anakin’s face lit up with a smile. His hands clenched and unclenched, as if he were trying to restrain himself, as if his emotions weren’t quite obvious.

Obi-Wan tapped Anakin on the nose. “Are you shielding, my dear?” And, just like that, shields appeared around Anakin’s mind. They were flawed and could have been stronger, but for his age and lack of training, they were impressive.

Plo turned his attention to Mand’alor Mereel who went wordlessly to the little kitchen and got a glass of water, standing near the sink as he drank.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Master Koon,” Duchess Kryze said with a well-practiced smile. “I hope your trip from Coruscant wasn’t too stressful. I am sorry to hear that you were attacked, but very happy that our people could assist you. If you’re hungry, we’ve had a few things prepared that I think you may enjoy. Or if you’re fatigued, Mand’alor Mereel has had several rooms readied as we were told to expect several Jedi. We all want you to feel at home with us.”

“And I’d like to know,” the Mand’alor threw both arms up in the air before he dragged a chair from the eating table to the living area where he put it in front of Plo and sat, heavily. “Why the Creepy Senator is now the Creepy Chancellor?! It seems like very poor policy to elect a Chancellor who frightens small ade!”

Obi-Wan looked rather confused, but Anakin climbed up to sit next to him on couch and glowered. “The Creepy Senator wanted to talk to Boss Jaster and he was asking about you, Obi! I told you he was gonna be trouble.” Anakin’s eyes narrowed. “We gotta do something about him.”

“Like what?” Obi-Wan asked.

“A knife...”

Goodness. Plo was going to have to advise a few sessions with mind healers. Still... a knife might not be a bad idea if Palpatine kept trying to get the younglings alone...

“I think a blaster to the head might be an even better idea,” Mand’alor Mereel said. “What has been going on that a man of high position, a supposedly respectable man, has frightened Anakin so much? He’s very worried that your Chancellor is going to hurt Obi-Wan.” The Mand’alor wagged a finger at Plo. “I won’t let the ade go somewhere just to have them be in danger! They’ll be better off staying here than having someone powerful hanging around them who frightens them!”

Plo rather liked the young Mand’alor. Such a nice boy. Clearly had his priorities straight. “I understand your reservations, but we have taken steps to avoid any unpleasantness.”

Duchess Kryze brought another chair over so she could sit with them at Mand’alor Mereel’s side. She spread her gown out delicately around her when she sat. She looked every inch a Republic born young lady, though the armor weave cloak would have looked out of place on a high-born young lady in the Republic. She had a sharp cast to her face, but nothing malicious, and Mand’alor Mereel looked at her with fondness. Plo wondered what Qui-Gon would have made of this situation. A girl raised and trained with the elite of the Republic, but standing at the right hand of the Mand’alor. He wondered if Duchess Kryze knew what power she could one day have - standing between the Mandalorian Empire and the Republic with knowledge of them both? “We got word only a short time ago that the Jedi have left Coruscant and their Temple.” Duchess Kryze shot Obi-Wan a sympathetic look.

Obi-Wan’s shock was clear. “They left?” Then he looked sharply at Plo. “We left? Where did we go?”

Anakin sat next to Obi-Wan. “Where will we go?”

“Not to worry, young ones,” Plo said. “We will find our people and where they are we will find our home.”

“And in the meanwhile, I should like to extend an invitation to stay on Mandalore,” Duchess Kryze said. “We have a nearly completed city that stands empty.”

Mand’alor Mereel looked surprised. “We do?”

Duchess Kryze whispered, “I’ll tell you later.” Then she said to Plo, “It’s a perfectly fine city and was built to house over a million people, so I think there would be room for all the Jedi. I shouldn’t bring this up so suddenly, but I wouldn’t want your people to be left homeless and vulnerable when there is no need.”

“Our people have not always gotten on well,” Plo said, though he was touched by the offer. She seemed entirely genuine and it wasn’t every day that a city was all but given as a gift.

Duchess Kryze waved away Plo’s objection. “I have it on good authority that the majority of Mandalore’s citizens seem to be willing to start afresh when it comes to the Jedi. I can’t promise living on Mandalore would be entirely peaceful. Death Watch is still active with their inexcusable violence and even people who don’t associate with Death Watch may not be as welcoming as I would wish, but we can at least offer a place for you to stay while your people decide what they want.”

It was a very kind offer and Plo appreciated it, especially as there had not been any mention of payment or favors in exchange.

“So,” Mand’alor Mereel said, casually. “Sith?”

“Yes,” Plo said, gravely. “There are many questions to be answered about their reappearance.”

Mand’alor Mereel nodded, thoughtfully. “I suppose research might provide some answers.”

“I suppose so.”

“And, I suppose a good library would be helpful in doing that type of research.”

Plo began to feel a not-so-subtle plot brewing. “Yes...”

“And I heard the Jetii have a very nice library.”

Doctor Gihan laughed. “It didn’t take you long to ask about their library, Jaster. I had thought you might wait at least a day. Now, I need to get back to work. Kenobi, you seem to be doing well. Your vitals are already looking better. If you start feeling poorly again, contact me immediately. Master Jetii,” he looked at Plo. “Jaster loves libraries - don’t let him bully you.”

Mand’alor Mereel spluttered, “Hey!”

“It’s only fair to warn him. Have a good day.” And he left.

“So,” Mand’alor Mereel immediately looked back at Plo. “About the Jetii library. I am more than happy to help hunt for the Sith - Ka’ra knows they’ve done us no favors in the past - but we really should have more information and good long search through a library, including all the dusty corners, will surely bring us some clues. Unless,” he looked suddenly very worried. “You had to leave it behind? Did you have to leave your library when you left your Temple?”

Plo had to stifle a laugh that was surely inappropriate at that moment and when speaking about that subject. Mand’alor Mereel - Young Jaster - really was adorable. “I’m afraid I have no details. I was en-route here on Mister Skirata’s ship when I got the message. But if it is at all possible, we would have saved our Archives.”

Young Jaster beamed with happiness.

Plo turned his attention to Anakin, who had been silent through it all. There was still a hint of Anakin’s happiness to have found Obi-Wan alive and well, but there was anxiety and grief mixed in with it. For all that, he sat next to Obi-Wan with his hands folded on his lap and a smile that had all the realism of a doll’s painted face. He didn’t believe Anakin felt that smile for even a minute.

“I do have another question,” Young Jaster said. “How is that the Jetii allowed such a young ad,” he gestured to Anakin. “To go into battle?”

Plo looked at Anakin, whose angelic face was suddenly rather guilt-ridden. “Yes. That is a story. Anakin, would you like to tell how that happened?”

Anakin’s eyes went wide, then narrowed. He pressed his lips tightly together. Anakin’s swung his short legs back and forth.

Obi-Wan sighed. “It’s alright, Anakin. You can tell. No one’s angry.”

Anakin jumped off the couch and came to stand in front of Plo. He pressed his hands together in front of him and gave a little bow. “Forgive me. Forgive me, master. I won’t do it, again.” That little boy in what were obviously pretend Jedi robes, was trying so hard not to be afraid and Plo thought his heart might break because it was HIM who Anakin was afraid of. He had never frightened a youngling in his life! Anakin kept his eyes down and said, “I didn’t want to disobey.”

Again, Obi-Wan sighed, making himself comfortable leaning against Plo’s side. “Ani, remember when I told you that Jedi were empaths?”

“Yes.”

“And do you remember what that means?”

“That Jedi are magic mind readers?”

“I’m pretty sure I didn’t phrase it exactly like that, but it’s pretty close. What it all boils down to is that Master Koon knows that you’re lying. Truth might be a better choice.”

Anakin pouted. “Okay, so maybe I did want to disobey, but only a little and it was for a good cause. I wanted to help and mom says helping people is good.”

Obi-Wan leaned more of his weight against Plo, who was happy enough to let Obi-Wan stay there. Obi-Wan said to Anakin, “You, my dear, are very lucky that Master Qui-Gon didn’t turn you over his knee the minute he caught up with us. Tell Master Koon the whole story, please.”

Anakin crossed his arms. “Obi,” Anakin drew out the name into a whine. “It’s not as bad as you make it sound.” He looked at Plo. “Master Jinn said I had to have my bomb taken out at the Temple.”

Plo remembered. It was not often that they were fortunate enough to find Force sensitive slave children and rescue them, but it was standard procedure to immediately search for any bombs that might have been implanted in them. Implanted slave bombs were becoming frighteningly common, so common that they were even finding them in the Republic. “I would think that you would have wanted it removed as soon as possible.”

“It’s not a problem, anymore,” Young Jaster said. “We had it taken out immediately. Simple procedure with no complications.”

“But I got a scar!” Anakin blurted out, suddenly smiling broadly. He all but tore off his tiny Jedi robe, then handed it to Obi-Wan so he could turn around and pull up the hem of his shirt to show Plo a very small scar at the small of his back. “Look! Isn’t it great!?”

“It’s lovely. Now, you were telling me why you didn’t want the bomb taken out at the Temple. We do have very competent healers. You would have been safe.”

After lowering his shirt and turning back around, Anakin didn’t look at Plo. He rubbed the toes of one foot against the back of the opposite leg and began to twiddle his thumbs. “I wasn’t trying to be bad. I just... I wanted to show Master Jinn that I was useful. And I heard him talkin’ to that twi’lek lady-”

“Master Che,” Obi-Wan supplied, with a wide yawn.

“Yeah, he was talkin’ to Master Che and said I had to stay there and even after the bomb got taken out, he was gonna leave me behind and no one at the Temple wants me and he was gonna leave and forget me and if he didn’t want me, then ... then... I don’t know. I wanted to go. I had to show him how useful I am so he’d keep wanting me around.”

The fact that Anakin had felt so alone at the Temple that he’d run away to a war broke Plo’s heart. “Anakin, you are not unwanted. The Council was not pleased with Qui-Gon, he didn’t handle certain aspects of your finding as well as he might have.” He petted Obi-Wan’s hair, remembering Qui-Gon’s hurried, clearly impulsive, notion of putting Obi-Wan up for his Knight’s Trials when Obi-Wan was not ready and how stunned Obi-Wan had been. “You are very much wanted, but because of your age, there are procedures that must be followed.”

Anakin didn’t look as if he believed Plo. “So, anyway, I waited until everyone was busy and then I snuck away. I got on Padme’s ship and hid.”

“And I found him,” Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “Well after we’d gone into hyperspace, I found him hiding in the hold. If I hadn’t been meditating, trying to calm myself, I might have found him earlier.”

“Well,” Anakin said, defensively. “I didn’t know Master Jinn was staying behind. I thought he’d be on Padme’s ship.”

With his eyes still closed, Obi-Wan reached out and ruffled Anakin’s hair. “You silly. Master Qui-Gon was worried for you, so he wanted to stay until you were safely out of surgery and help you get settled in the creche.” Obi-Wan opened his eyes a little. “It would have taken him only about a half an hour, and as Padme didn’t want to delay getting back to Naboo, Master Qui-Gon told me to escort her but not to go to the planet until he caught up with us.”

It had been a moment of almost panic in the Temple when it had been discovered that Anakin had slipped away from the infirmary without being noticed. Nearly the whole Temple had been roused into searching for him. It had taken twenty minutes for Qui-Gon to realize Anakin must have snuck away on the ship headed for Naboo and he’d left instantly to go after them, taking the first working ship he’d found in the Temple’s hanger.

“Master Qui-Gon caught up with us just after we left hyperspace,” Obi-Wan continued, closing his eyes, again. He yawned. “We discussed it and decided that as the Naboo people were dying in the war, we couldn’t just abandon them to go back to the Temple. Master had thought to send me back with Anakin, but the ship he’d taken to get to us was only built for one occupant. The best we could do was have Anakin hide until the fighting was over.”

Well, that did explain things. It seemed that Qui-Gon had made the best decision possible in a bad situation.

“You can hit me, if you want,” Anakin said, softly.

It took Plo a minute to understand the ridiculous offer. “What?”

“If you’re mad that I ran away, you can hit me. Gardulla the Hutt used to have me hit with a big stick when I was bad. Or when she was angry at someone. Or when the day was too hot. I can take it. I’m tough. But I wasn’t trying to be bad, I wanted to go with Master Jinn and show him I could be useful.” Anakin scowled. “And then he wouldn’t even let me help, he just made me hide.”

“No one is going to hit you for running away when you were scared and you were not bad. You made a naughty decision, but you are not bad and -”

Obi-Wan began to snore.

Young Jaster laughed. “Sounds like it’s time for us all to quiet down for a bit. Sat’ika, let’s get a meal ready for our guests while Obi-Wan rests.”

When Young Jaster and Duchess Kryze moved into the kitchen, Anakin stepped closer to Plo. He looked carefully at Obi-Wan, taking a well-deserved nap, then whispered to Plo, “Are you gonna keep him?”

“Keep him? Obi-Wan?”

“He can’t use the Force, but he says he’ll get better and he really is super nice.” Anakin spread his arms wide to show off his not entirely accurate Jedi uniform. To Plo, it looked as if someone had made him a Jedi costume. “He’s been helping to teach me, and he’s told me how to dress like a Jedi and he tried to teach me to meditate, and I think I’ve been behaving very well.” Which would explain why he’d, apparently, been on his best behavior since Plo had arrived. “He’s such a great person.”

Plo leaned forward and whispered, “I think so, too, but don’t tell him I said so. Not to fear - even if Obi-Wan never regained use of the Force, we would not abandon him.”

Anakin let out great gust of a breath. “That’s good, ‘cause if you didn’t want him, I was gonna kick you in the knees and I’d feel bad about that ‘cause I kinda like you, now. Oh, and be nice about the food Sissy Satine got for us. She’s tryin’ really hard to impress you.”

Plo adored the open honesty of younglings. “And why would she do that?”

“’Cause she said it’d be really great for the Jedi to come live here, so she wants all the Jedi to like Mandalorians. Actually, she wanted to impress Master Windu, but he’s not here yet, so she’s going to impress you.”

Plo looked into the kitchen area where Duchess Kryze and Young Jaster were busying setting the table. Mandalorians had guarded Obi-Wan and Anakin without being asked to, without expectation of reward. They were providing food and, from the smell alone, it would have real flavor. How could they possibly do more to earn the goodwill of the Jedi?

Obi-Wan slept for a short while and when he woke, he seemed much refreshed. He sat up straight and rubbed his eyes. “Forgive me for inattention,” Obi-Wan said. “Master Koon, there is something else important to mention - it’s Master Telno. She’s here. She’s alive. She’s been here for ages and they’ve been taking care of her at the yaim be bajur.”

Plo was too experienced of a Master to let shock show on his face, but he did feel it. He felt all the grief he’d felt that day when they had found Master Telno’s wrecked ship and had to conclude that she had died in the wreck. He felt indescribable joy that she was not only alive, but had been taken care of for years. Gratitude and curiosity and a hundred other emotions that he couldn’t name all swam around inside him until he let them go into the Force and he could think clearly.
He looked at Young Jaster and asked, “She is well?”

“I’ll find time for you to visit the yaim be bajur so you can see for yourself and speak with her care givers, but from what I’ve seen, she is well taken care of and well loved, if a little... well... confused.”

Plo nodded. “That is good. We are much in your debt, Young Jaster.”

“Not at all. I had nothing to do with your friend coming here, I only learned about her when Obi-Wan did. Now, why don’t we sit and eat and...” A beeping alert sounded from Jaster’s vambrace. He tapped a button and read what the message was before he smiled at everyone in the room. “How about we save the meal for a little while? It seems that your Jetii friends are getting ready to land, so we should go to the Landing Field to greet them. Let’s go meet Masters Windu and Dooku.”

To Be Continued...

A/N: Yes, I know it seems like this chapter doesn’t have much action, but I found a plot hole that was really bugging me, so I needed to fix it. Also, Obi-Wan needed a little nap before his grandmaster showed up.

Chapter Text

Chapter 57: A Friendly Fight

BEFORE THEY REACH MANDALORE-
JANGO’S SHIP-
MACE WINDU-

On the Command Deck of Jango’s ship, Mace watched as Dooku handled inactivity by making a pest of himself.

Dooku peered down his nose at the pilot. “If you let me take over, we’ll be at Mandalore in half the time. Why don’t you go get a cup of tea?”

The pilot nervously shook his head. “Master Jetii, sir, I’ve flown this course many times. I know what I’m doing.”

“Yet you seem to have forgotten where the accelerator is.”

Jango overheard that last bit and hurried over to lead Dooku away from the sweating pilot. “He’s very good at his job,” Jango assured Dooku. “We’ll get there safely, I give you my word.”

“We should get there as quickly as possible,” Dooku countered. “I need to be sure Padawan Kenobi isn’t injured.”

“He’s fine. Why don’t you sit?” He gestured to the chair he’d early had brought to the Command Deck for Dooku.

“I am done sitting. It’s time to do something.” Dooku said with his usual patient tone. “And Padawan Kenobi may not be as ‘fine’ as you think. He has a bad habit of hiding injuries. If you let me pilot we can be there in no time at all.”

Jango glanced at Mace and Mace furiously shook his head and silently mouthed the word, ‘No!’

When it became clear that they wouldn’t let him fly, Dooku settled himself down in an unused corner and began to meditate.

It was a good idea and Mace sat with him and attempted to meditate. Almost instantly, he imagined the Senate in chaos, yelling and swearing about the Jedi leaving. Maybe not that day or the day after, but, sooner or later, someone was going to have to deal with the Senate and that someone was probably going to be Mace.

A familiar burning pain in his stomach flared up.

Mace turned his mind to his most urgent task. He still needed to work out exactly what to say to Mand’alor Mereel. Really, he should have thought to bring a Consul Jedi with him on this mission - he was no diplomat.

That burning pain flared, again, but Mace kept his face still. He’d suffered ulcers often enough that he’d long ago learned to keep the pain to himself.

“Stress will make the pain worse,” Master Che had told Mace years ago when the symptoms had first started. “Working with the Senate causes more stress than you can deal with. I’m sorry, but you need to think about stepping down as Master of the Order or, at least, appoint a proxy to speak with the Senate.”

“So that someone else will have their health ruined? I can’t do that.”

So he had kept to his duties and had kept being pained by the ulcer. Master Che had done her best to help. She’d worked hard to develop meals that wouldn’t aggravate his stomach, had a list of medications that wouldn’t worsen his condition on the rare occasions he needed to make use of the medical facilities, and did what she could to lessen his stress. Depa tried to help, too, once she was old enough to know why her Master was so often in pain.

He worried for Depa. He had no idea where Depa was, but at least she was safely away from the Senate, safe with the rest of their people and with her own Grandmaster. She was a respected Master, skilled and intelligent and perfectly capable of surviving on her own without her Master to shield her. Still... he didn’t know where she was, so he worried.

The pain in his stomach burned.

A subtle touch of concern brushed against his mental walls and Mace opened his eyes to find Dooku looking at him. Mace said, “Have you finished harassing our rescuers?”

Dooku sniffed. “For the moment. Is something bothering you?”

“Stress.” There would be politicians to deal with, once they reached Mandalore. At least he was familiar with the members of the Senate, the politicians on Mandalore were unfamiliar. He suddenly imagined every member of the Senate being armed with weapons and had to struggle not to shudder at the nightmarish image. “It’s only stress.”

“Another ulcer?”

“It was scheduled for healing when Qui-Gon Rejoined the Force. Then Obi-Wan and Anakin went missing and the Chancellor started in with his thinly veiled demands.”

“Does the Infirmary have the necessary medication for ulcers?”

“No. Ulcers aren’t considered urgent and we need other supplies more. The Medicorp were due to stop by with new supplies and it would have been taken care of then.” How the Senate had never seemed to figure out that the Jedi Order was being supplied by their Service Corps brethren was a complete mystery that Mace was eternally grateful for. While the Service Corps couldn’t give them everything as they had whole planets they took care of, it was always a relief when the Service Corps would stop at Coruscant and give them what they could, whether that was medical supplies, better foodstuff than the usual Nutri-mash, or physical goods such as fabric for new clothes or baby bottles for the infants in the creche. “Don’t get upset for my sake - I’ll have it dealt with as soon as we’ve retrieved the younglings and find our people.”

Dooku folded his arms over his chest. “Do you need to eat to settle your stomach?” He glanced meaningfully to the bowl of fruit Jango had so obligingly provided, earlier.

Fruit was a treat in the Temple, unprocessed food of any kind was a luxury, but Mace’s stomach protested just at the sight of the fruit and he shook his head. “I can’t eat right now. But thank you.”

They sat in silence and watched Jango’s crew do their work, quiet and efficient and somehow calming in their easy manner.

Before long, they reached Mandalore and landed. From where he stood in the middle of the Command Deck, Jango laughed at the sight of the Landing Field they could all see through the main viewing window. “Looks like we have a welcoming committee.”

Standing between Jango’s ship and the glass domed city of Keldabe, were Mandalorians. An army of them. Shiny, brightly painted armor gleamed under the sunlight. There was a wide path leading from Jango’s ship to Keldabe’s glass dome and halfway down that path there were several people, too far off to properly see. The Mand’alor, Jango informed them. He was waiting for them with Duchess Kryze, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Master Koon.

There were procedures that needed to be done before they could leave the ship that included not only shutting the ship down properly, but Jango and his crew making sure their armor was on and perfect before they presented themselves to the crowd waiting for them. “We don’t want to shame the Mand’alor. He’s too new in power and there are still people around who want him to fail.”

In the hold, where they would open the ramp to leave the ship, Mace and Dooku waited as Jango readied his people. Dooku did not try to hide the fact that he thought the crew was moving too slowly, much to Jango’s concern after the second time Dooku had tried to open the ramp without waiting for them.

“Sir, please!” Jango said, shooing Dooku away from the control panel on the wall. “This needs to be done right. If there’s a Death Watch agent out there, hiding in the crowd, you might get shot!”

“It wouldn’t be the first time. I must get to my Grandpadawans! I hold great hope that Future Initiate Anakin will be a sensible youngling, but Padawan Kenobi has a bad habit of playing fast and loose with this own health. He may still be gravely injured.”

Mace couldn’t argue. Obi-Wan had hidden both injuries and illnesses before, much to the annoyance of not only Qui-Gon, but every single person who cared for him.

“We have very good doctors and they have been keeping a close eye on him.”

Dooku said, “He fakes very well. He may have a concussion that he hasn’t admitted to.”

“Master Jetii,” Jango said, sounding a bit desperate. “He doesn’t have a concussion. I assure you that Mand’alor Mereel cares very much for the wellbeing of all ade... er... younglings. Kenobi has had a great deal of time to rest, good food, and the attention of experienced medical professionals. He’s fine.”

Dooku inched to the side, clearly making an attempt to sneak around Jango. “He once broke his arm and didn’t tell anyone for a week.”

“He also doesn’t have any broken bones.” Jango looked at his small crew and hissed, “Come on! Hurry up!” At Dooku, he said, “It will be easier for everyone if you let me escort you all out at once, there will only have to be one round of introductions and we won’t have the more anxious of our population thinking that we have Jetii suddenly running amok in the city.”

Dooku’s eyes narrowed. “I do NOT run amok, in cities or otherwise. I am a perfectly controlled Master and I do NOT make a spectacle of myself by indulging in something as undignified as panic. It is hardly my fault that we are taking too long to get moving.”

Jango’s crew seemed to double their pace and Mace sympathized. Dooku could be very intimidating when he got his nose out of joint.

A few moments later, all was ready and Jango lowered the ramp of the ship, giving Mace his first look at Mandalore. He didn’t often get to see planets other than Coruscant and Mandalore was radically different. Exotic. He looked out at the neat, orderly rows of warriors and the vast expanse of sand where, Mace knew, there had once been a world-wide, lush jungle filled with life. He looked beyond them to the glass domed city, then up at the cloudless sky. He could smell something sharp and rich - like spice carried on the wind.

Mace could feel the crowd of Mandalorians watching him. There was a tension in the air so thick that it was almost tangible. They faced him in their armor like hundreds of terrible droids. The enormity of the situation, the danger, could not be ignored.

So many years ago, horrible mistakes and willful crimes had been committed by both parties and against both parties. He had no doubt that the Mandalorians were just as aware of all that as he was. Their people made no secret of their love of conflict, of fighting and wars. They were proud of it. It wouldn’t be at all surprising if they were itching at the chance to renew the battles between themselves and the Jedi.

It was a thought that filled Mace with dread.

The Jedi numbers had dwindled in the past few hundred years. There were so few of them and they had no supplies worth speaking of. And now they wouldn’t even have the questionable backing of the Senate if the Mandalorians decided to hunt down the Jedi. He had to remain calm, to be in control and see this rescue through without endangering the younglings or the rest of his people. It was a knife’s edge he balanced on and he felt the weight of all his people sitting on his shoulders.

Jango left the ship first, walking at the front of their little parade. Mace and Dooku followed, walking side-by-side, and the rest of the Jango’s crew walked behind them. Mace kept his back straight and his hand conspicuously away from his lightsaber, and walked down the ramp, away from the safety of the ship and through the virtual army of Mandalorian Warriors to where the Mand’alor waited for them.

GATHERED MANDALORIANS-

The spoke to one another through the communicators in their helmets.

“Gosh, he’s SO pretty.”

“Which one? The younger one? He’s a bit rugged to be pretty, don’t you think. Handsome would be a better word. Or striking. He’s definitely striking.”

“Is my helmet shining enough? I should have polished it more.”

“Stop gushing. They read minds, don’t they? He’ll know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh, no...”

“Keep it clean, people!”

“He’s got a good stride, nice and purposeful. That’s the one the littler ad, Anakin, spoke to on the communicator. I was there... this Jetii Master is even more striking in person.”

“Look how confidant he is! His hand isn’t anywhere near his weapon!”

“Stop staring! He’ll think we’re weird!”

“Where is his weapon? I can’t see it. They carry them all the time, don’t they? Do you think we can get him to spar?”

“Those eyes!” A sigh. “Looks right though you, doesn’t he?”

Gasp! “Be cool! Be cool! He’s looking this way!”

“He’s looking for the Mand’alor, dummy. That’s why he’s here.”

“Oh... look at the older one.”

“That one’s a bit of alright, isn’t he? Beautiful... that’s the face of a man who could knock me down to the ground and I’d stay there for him.”

“He’s old enough to be your buir! Show a little respect.”

“I’ll show him all the respect he can handle. I happen to like a man old enough to have a bit of beskar in his hair.”

“What about that other one? The kel dor who got here earlier? Oh, Manda. I want to make him cookies.”

MACE WINDU-

Mace was aware that he was the center of attention. Any wrong move, any careless word could result in war. But the Force was with him. He was in control. He was absolutely furious. He controlled it, as always, but he couldn’t quite get away from the fact that the Senate had led him to this moment. They hadn’t had to insist that a single Master and Padawan team go to Naboo when they knew war was inevitable and a Sith was lurking in the shadows. He blamed the Senate as equally as the Sith for the death of Qui-Gon and for the younglings being stranded away from their people.

Unlike most Jedi, Mace was not so good at giving his anger to the Force, but that was not, necessarily, a bad thing because also unlike most Jedi, he didn’t find anger to be a useless emotion. It could be controlled and carefully used without Falling into Darkness. So he locked the anger in a deep part of his mind, saving it for when it was needed.

A strong gust of wind blew across the Landing Field.

GATHERED MANDALORIANS-

“Look! Look! The wind made his sleeve move. I saw his wrist! His bare wrist!”

“Will you get your mind out of the gutter? That’s no way to make a good impression and... oh.” The Jetii raised both arms to pull the hood of his robe over his head, no doubt to protect it from the sun. When he did the sleeves of his robe slid down enough to expose his arms. “I saw his elbow. Catch me - I’m gonna faint.”

“Did you see those muscles? If his forearms look like that, what do his biceps look like?”

“Biceps? Try to imagine his thighs!”

“Mind readers, remember?! He’s gonna think we’re all perverts. Calm down!”

“I can’t see his weapon! Can anyone see the jetii’kad? By the Manda - I’d kill to see him fight! He must be beautiful!”

MACE WINDU-

Mace needed all the information he could get to make the situation work out for the best, so he lowered the shields around his mind. He did not go searching for anything from any specific person, as that was immensely rude, but he did allow the ambient emotions of those around him to wash over him.

The silent tension of the gathered Mandalorians was oppressive. Mace could almost feel it battering against his skin.

He could feel hope and fear from Anakin. He felt Obi-Wan’s relief and sadness. He felt nothing from Dooku, as he had expected. Mace gave Dooku a mental poke, asking how he was doing, and Dooku responded by allowing his shields to drop slightly. There was happiness to see Obi-Wan and Anakin, curiosity about his newest Grandpadawan and the linger mix of grief and pain for Qui-Gon. Dooku’s shields went up as quickly as he’d let them down and Mace didn’t not poke at him, again, though he did make a note to remind Dooku that Qui-Gon had not formally taken Anakin as his Padawan which meant that Anakin wasn’t really Dooku’s Grandpadawan. He strongly suspected Dooku would ignore him.

Still, Mace needed more information. With practiced concentration, he looked deeply with the Force and saw a great flare of a Shatterpoint. As Shatterpoints always were, it was intense energy that was Light and Dark and hot and cold and full of endless possibilities and a void of nothing. Mace couldn’t see where the focus of it was. That was strange. He could see the Shatterpoints around Anakin and the many that surrounded Obi-Wan. He could always see what Shatterpoints were focused on, whether it was a person, a place, or a thing - but this time he couldn’t quite see it.

“A Shatterpoint,” Mace’s Master had told him when he’d first started suffering the pains of seeing them, before he’d learned some control over the ability. “Is a point of choice. The future is not fixed, we know this, but a Shatterpoint is a point in reality when a choice can direct the course of the future one way or the other.”

“I don’t understand,” Mace had said.

His Master had taken him into the hall outside the room they shared. She gestured to the left. “If you go that way, you will go to the Archives.” She gestured to the right. “If you go that way, you will go to the hanger. This point between those two routes,” she pointed to the spot where they stood. “This is a Shatterpoint. Left or Right. With a Shatterpoint, you know there is a choice to be made, but you don’t know where it will lead you. It may not even be your choice to make.”

Mace allowed the vision of that Shatterpoint to fade. The throbbing headache lancing through his brain would last for days without treatment.

Mace finally came to a stop before Mand’alor Mereel. The Mand’alor was of a height with Mace and he looked like a big man, but that might have been a result of the armor he wore. His helmet entirely covered his face, as Mandalorian helmets usually did. He looked very much like all the gathered, armored warriors around them but for his distinctive red cape that fluttered in the breeze. At one side of the Mand’alor, Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Master Koon stood. At his other side there was a young woman and he guessed that she was Duchess Kryze.

Mace folded his hands inside the sleeves of his robe and bowed. “Mand’alor Mereel.”

The Mand’alor nodded his head. “Jetii Master of the Order.”

It came as absolutely no surprise to Mace that Dooku completely ignored the Mand’alor. He went straight to Obi-Wan and Anakin. Dooku looked down at the boys, his face stern and icy cold. In the Force, he glowed with warmth. “Padawan Kenobi,” Dooku said. “Greetings.”

Dooku reached out a hand and Mace knew that he intended to put his hand on the right side of Obi-Wan’s neck. It was his way. Dooku was not a physically affectionate man, could barely stand to have anyone touch him, but for those closest to him, he would touch their neck. Mace didn’t know why. Why not touch the arm? Or shoulder? For whatever reason, Mace had seen Dooku show affection in that way to all his Padawans and his Grandpadawans. They all knew not to expect such things as hugs from Dooku, but they all treasured that little touch on the neck. That was why Mace was shocked when Obi-Wan, rather than leaning into the touch, flinched away.

It was a tiny reaction and someone who didn’t know Obi-Wan well would surely have missed it. Dooku did not miss it. He froze, then tucked his hands into the sleeves of his robe and bowed to Obi-Wan. If he was hurt by Obi-Wan’s reaction, he didn’t show it.

Obi-Wan’s expression didn’t change, but Mace, his shields still slightly lowered, could feel Obi-Wan’s shame that he’d flinched away from his Grandmaster, his disappointment in himself. Obi-Wan bowed. “I’m very pleased to see you here, Grandmaster. I’d like you to meet Anakin.” Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s back and nudged him a little forward. “Ani, this is Grandmaster Dooku.”

As that was going on, Mace turned his mind to his responsibility. Dooku and Master Koon were plenty capable of taking care of the younglings, but as Master of the Order, Mace couldn’t join them at the moment. He looked at the Mand’alor.

“Welcome, Master Jetti,” Mand’alor Mereel said, his deep voice lightly distorted by his helmet. “They have been eagerly waiting for you.” He looked at where Obi-Wan and Anakin were still speaking with Dooku and Master Koon. “I don’t hesitate to tell you that I’ve grown fond of them both. Good boys. But things have been hard on them and we will need to discuss it all.”

Mace nodded, thinking. The Mand’alor seemed reasonable. It was a hopeful sign. “And I look forward to that discussion. Our younglings are our most precious treasures. We are eager to take them home.”

“And I will be heartbroken to lose them. We will also need to discuss their safety, I couldn’t let them go when I think they might not be safe. They are dear to me.”

Mace had read the little book that Master Jocasta had sent to them that gave a brief overview of Mandalorian culture and while he hadn’t finished reading all of it due to them being attacked, he did distinctly remember reading about the great value Mandalorians put on their young and that they had immense respect for skilled fighters.

“Perhaps I can demonstrate how I can keep them safe? A friendly duel between you and I? I do have some modest skill with a lightsaber.” Mace detached his lightsaber from his belt and held it in front of him in clear view. When Mand’alor Mereel didn’t answer at once, Mace felt a stirring of alarm that the Mand’alor might refuse to let the younglings go. “And if you are still not satisfied, I am willing to listen to your thoughts on how best to take care of them.” Perhaps, the Mand’alor might be swayed with a tiny bit of flattery. “I’m sure they will be best served with influence from the both of us.”

JASTER MEREEL-

‘Did... did he just challenge me to friendly fight AND suggest we raise the ade together?’ A hot blush rose up Jaster’s cheeks. ‘Goodness! How bold! And in public, too!’

Obi-Wan went to Master Windu and said, “Master Windu, I think I should explain...”

“Not now, Padawan Kenobi. All is well. I will deal with this.” He looked back at Jaster. “Your answer?”

Over the helmet communicator, Jango muttered, “I’m pretty sure there’s some confusion here somewhere.”

Jaster proudly took off his helmet and declared, “I accept your challenge to a friendly fight!”

Across the crowd, from somewhere near the back, a distant voice yelled out, in Mando’a, “Jaster Mereel, you lucky son of a...” the last word was lost on a gust of wind.

MACE WINDU-

One hour later, Mace walked into the apartment of Jaster Mereel where he found his people - Master Koon, Dooku, Obi-Wan, Anakin - as well as Jango and Duchess Kryze waiting. Everyone turned to look at him when he’d entered. He said nothing, at first, and went to the couch where he sat, heavily.

“Master Windu?” Obi-Wan asked. “What happened?”

“I’m not entirely certain. I either restarted the Mandalorian-Jedi War or I got engaged to be married.”

Mand’alor Mereel walked in. He sauntered to the couch and sat next to Mace. Despite the blood seeping from his mouth and nose, the one swollen eye, and pronounced limp, there was an extremely pleased grin settled on his face. He casually draped an arm over Mace’s shoulders.

Obi-Wan sighed, “I don’t think you started a war, sir.”

To Be Continued...

A/N: I do not understand, exactly, how Shatterpoints work in cannon. I have read about them in fanfiction and tried to do a little research. I have read that Shatterpoints appear around people when a decision they make will greatly affect the future and I have read that Shatterpoints are something only Jedi can see that are weak points in objects and that if the Jedi attack that weak point the thing can be broken, no matter how strong it is.

I’m still not sure I understand Shatterpoints, so I’m going to make stuff up as I go along. Sorry if this offends anyone, but as I’m also making a mess of ages, dates, and other stuff that’s probably important, I don’t think messing up one more thing is going to make that much of a difference. So, Mace sees Shatterpoints, which, in this story, are points where the future may go one direction or the other, but he doesn’t know where each path will lead and they give him raging headaches because we only hurt the ones we love.

Hope everyone liked this chapter.

ad-child
ade-children
jetii'kad - lightsaber
buir- parent

Chapter Text

Chapter 58: TROUNCED

EARLIER, ON THE LANDING FIELD-
ANAKIN-

It was time to meet the Jedi.

Obi-Wan was dressed in all his fancy Jedi clothes and Anakin had the pretend Jedi clothes that Padme had gotten for him and the robe that Boss Jaster had given him. He felt quite grown-up and wished his mom could see him like that. All he needed was a laser sword - lightsaber - and he was pretty sure he’d look like a real Jedi. He didn’t have a lightsaber and Obi-Wan had been very strict when telling Anakin that lightsabers weren’t toys and that he couldn’t just give Anakin one.

That was okay. Anakin wanted to build one, anyway.

He stood with Obi-Wan on the Landing Field, waiting for the Jedi to arrive and he was terrified. That wouldn’t do. The Jedi didn’t like people being afraid. He was pretty sure it was illegal or something. But how did a person go about not being afraid when scary things were happening? He could pretend not to be afraid, could hide shaky hands behind his back and keep his eyes on whoever was scary, just in case they wanted to hurt him, and he knew how to keep his face still, but he still felt the fear. It hid in his gut like a twisting, angry snake.

“You will learn to release your fear into the Force,” Obi-Wan had told Anakin.

That didn’t make any sense at all, but Anakin didn’t want to upset Obi-Wan so he didn’t ask.

Master Koon had promised that Anakin wasn’t disliked by the Jedi, that they did want him, and that everything that had happened the last time he’d been to the Jedi Temple was just a misunderstanding. Anakin liked Master Koon - he felt like warm fuzzies and saved Obi-Wan’s life! - but he couldn’t get passed the feeling that the rest of the Jedi were going to get there and decide that Anakin just wasn’t good enough to be one of them.

As he stood with Obi-Wan, waiting for Jango’s ship to get there with the Jedi, Anakin reached up and grabbed hold of Obi-Wan’s belt.

Without making a big fuss, Obi-Wan patted Anakin’s hand.

A whole lot of Mandalorians showed up and Anakin thought that was real nice of them to want to be friendly with the Jedi. Even Boss Jaster wore all his armor and had taken a few minutes to get it all clean and shiny.

Then Master Windu and an old man Jedi that Anakin had never met arrived with Jango. Before the new Jedi reached them, Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s belt and Obi-Wan obligingly leaned down. “Obi,” Anakin whispered. “Who’s the old guy?”

Obi-Wan made a funny snorting sound. “That’s Grandmaster Dooku. He was Master Qui-Gon’s Master. We must be good and polite, understand?”

Anakin nodded, determined to make a good impression. If Master Jinn raised and taught Obi-Wan, then that was kind of like being a dad. And if Grandmaster Dooku raised and taught Master Jinn, then that surely made him something like Obi-Wan’s grandpa. And since Obi-Wan was Anakin’s big brother, then that meant Grandmaster Dooku was Anakin grandpa, too.

That awful, angry snake of fear in Anakin’s gut started to twist round and round. He’d never had a grandpa, before. He definitely needed to make a good impression. It would be really great if he could show off his new grandpa to his mom when she got rescued!

Maybe his new grandpa would like to see the scar on Anakin’s back from getting his bomb removed. It really was a wonderful scar.

The Jedi arrived and while Master Windu went to stand in front of Boss Jaster, Grandpa Dooku went straight to Obi-Wan.

“Padawan Kenobi. Greetings.” He reached out to Obi-Wan, but Obi-Wan twitched and it made Grandpa Dooku stop. Instead, he bowed to Obi-Wan.

“I’m very pleased to see you here, Grandmaster. I’d like you to meet Anakin.” Obi-Wan put a hand on Anakin’s back and nudged him a little forward. “Ani, this is Grandmaster Dooku.”

Finding himself at the center of Grandpa Dooku’s attention, Anakin forced himself to stand straight and tall and desperately tried not to feel afraid, but he still couldn’t figure how to NOT feel something that he was definitely feeling. For a moment, he tried to imagine his mom standing with him, because he’d always felt brave with her nearby, but thinking about his mom -

She was alone. Alone on Tatooine with Watto and she was probably crying. She probably sat by the cooking fire, staring at nothing like she did when she got really sad. Who was there to help her without him? She didn’t know how to repair stuff like Anakin did and Watto might get mad at her, he might decide she wasn’t worth keeping and what if he sold her? What if... ? What if...?

- Thinking about his mom made Anakin really sad and he had the sneaking suspicion that feeling sad was just as bad as feeling scared, so he tried not to think about his mom. That didn’t work much. So he tried to imagine he was as tough as a Krayt Dragon. He wondered if Jedi could kill Krayt Dragons. A glance up at Obi-Wan’s soft face - all big eyes and freckles - made Anakin pretty sure that Obi-Wan couldn’t do it, but Grandpa Dooku sure looked like he could. Anakin looked over at Master Windu and was sure Master Windu could kill a Krayt Dragon just by glaring at it.

“So,” Grandpa Dooku looked down his long, crooked nose at Anakin. He was even taller than Master Jinn had been! “You are the boy who captured my Padawan’s attention. Good day to you, Young Skywalker.”

He talked funny - rich. He talked the way rich people talked. Padme didn’t talk like that, even if she was a queen, she talked like a normal person, but Anakin had heard loads of really rich people - merchants and masters and criminals - who talked like they thought their words were made of gold.

At a nudge from Obi-Wan, Anakin bowed to Grandpa Dooku. “Hi.”

Grandpa Dooku put his hands behind his back and watched Anakin like he was studying him. Anakin didn’t like getting stared at much. Sometimes masters stared when they wanted to buy a person. Grandpa Dooku nodded his head, sharply. “I look forward to getting to know you better. We shall have much to discuss.” He looked at Obi-Wan. “And what trouble have you been getting yourself into?”

“No trouble, sir.”

Grandpa Dooku’s eyes narrowed. “No? Should I worry about broken bones? Have you recently hit your head?”

Master Koon laughed, a funny sound when it came through his mask. “He’s fine, Dooku. He’s had the antidote and he’s doing quite well.”

Grandpa Dooku gave Master Koon a little smile. “That’s reassuring to hear.” He fixed hard eyes on Obi-Wan. “You do seem to have a skill for finding mischief.”

Anakin very nearly kicked Grandpa Dooku in the knee. He made it sound like Obi-Wan was bad! Obi-Wan was absolutely perfect and he never caused trouble for anyone!

Obi-Wan’s hand grabbed Anakin’s shoulder and gave it a little squeeze which made Anakin look up at Obi-Wan. Obi-Wan was smiling. “I’m hurt that you would think such a thing, Grandmaster.”

“Hmmm.... I expect you’ve gotten yourself involved in an assassination attempt or some other foolishness. You’re likely to be injured.”

“No, sir. I’m very well.”

They smiled at each other and Anakin felt like he was missing something. Grandpa Dooku sounded unhappy and talked like he didn’t trust Obi-Wan, but they were both smiling. Jedi were weird.

Then everyone was paying attention to Master Windu and Boss Jaster. Anakin wasn’t sure what the big deal was, but it sounded like Master Windu wanted to fight with Boss Jaster and Boss Jaster accepted. Obi-Wan tried to talk to Master Windu, but was hushed when Master Windu said, “Not now, Padawna Kenobi. All is well. I will deal with this.”

Obi-Wan went back to stand with Anakin and the two Jedi Masters.

Grandpa Dooku quietly asked Master Koon, “Are you sure Mace read that book?”

“Well... he was reading it when we were attacked. I think he was nearly done with it.”

“Hmmm. So, are we going to tell him?”

“No,” Master Koon said, thoughtfully. “He’s been stuck in either the Temple or the Senate for years. It’s time he made a new friend.”

Grandpa Dooku nodded, sagely. “Yes. Quite right. I can see your point.”

When Sissy Satine took Boss Jaster’s arm and pulled him a bit away from Master Windu and started whispering to him, Anakin, curious, snuck close enough to listen.

Sissy Satine said to Boss Jaster, “You need to think this through. Master Windu isn’t just any Jedi, he’s THE Master of the Order. The highest-ranking Jedi in the whole galaxy! Obi-Wan once told me that the Master of the Order is the best, most skilled Jedi. Master Windu is very dangerous.”

Boss Jaster sounded rather hopeful when he asked, “You think so?”

“Yes! And while he is the head administrator for the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan said that Master Windu is also a fearsome man. He’s so skilled with his lightsaber that he actually invented his own style of swordsmanship and Obi-Wan said that’s so incredibly difficult that it’s almost impossible.”

“And yet he challenged me.” Sigh. “I’m so honored.”

“Focus! You’re missing the point! I’m really not sure this is a good idea.”

“Sat’ika,” Boss Jaster put a hand on Sissy Satine’s shoulder and bent over to look her in the eye. “I know things have been rough for you. You haven’t had a strong role model to look up to. You were sinfully neglected by your buir and then what that Lubek did... it’s unforgivable. Of course you’d be nervous about the idea of a new man entering our lives, but there’s nothing to worry about. This is just a Friendly Fight. I promise I won’t marry him unless all my ade fully approve.”

Sissy Satine looked like she wanted to scream and cry, which Anakin thought was a very interesting expression.

Boss Jaster looked at Jango. “Lad, take everyone back to the Fortress and get them settled.” He nodded his head at Master Koon and Grandpa Dooku. “Forgive us for running out, but this will only take a few moments.” He led Master Windu away.

Obi-Wan stepped closer to Sissy Satine and quietly asked, “Satine? Are you alright?”

Sissy Satine looked around at the crowd that still watched them all and she smiled. “Sure. I’m just fine. If Jaster offends your Master Windu, we can say ‘good-bye’ to friendly relations between our people and ‘hello’ to intergalactic incident. If your Master Windu kills Jaster, my people are back to the wars that are going to end up causing our extinction. But I’m fine. Sure. Just fine.” She sniffed. “I had a whole dinner prepared. All I wanted was a few minutes of calm to talk. Was that too much to ask?”

Jango shrugged. “Don’t blame Jaster - it’s the Jetii who started it! Jaster just accepted the challenge, so that means he agrees to the courtship.” Then he looked at both Obi-Wan and Sissy Satine. “And anyone underage is not to do any Friendly Fighting! Got it? You’re both too young. At least Jaster’s taking it somewhere private this time, instead of on the Fighting Field for all to see. He’ll take the Jetii to one of the training rooms. I’m sure it won’t take long.”

Obi-Wan tried to cheer up Sissy Satine. “Don’t worry about Master Windu - it’s very hard to offend a Jedi Master. That would require giving in to pride and Master Windu would never do such a thing. I just hope he doesn’t hurt Jaster.”

Jango snickered. “Oh, come on! You’re talking about Jaster. He’s a highly skilled warrior with years of training and experience as Journeyman Protector. He’s been battling against Tor Vizla for years. He has the command and respect of millions of people. Believe me, Jaster’s going to be just fine.”

THE FORTRESS-
A TRAINING ROOM-
JASTER-

Jaster had been thoroughly trounced.

Jaster had heard all the old stories about the Jetii of legends. He had, like all Mando’ade, studied the wars of their history and how fierce the Jetii had been, how they had stood against the Mando’ade like no other foe ever had.

He sat on the floor of the training room, incredible pain battered his whole body. Perhaps he should have waited until he was fully healed from fighting the Challenge Match with the Goran before accepting a challenge from an epic warrior. Still, what’s done is done and, sitting there looking up at the Jetii, Jaster couldn’t regret a single moment of his pain.

‘Totally worth it.’

The Jetii was panting for breath. He held his Jetii’kad with both hands, his grip sure and well-practiced. The constant ‘buzz’ of the weapon filled the room. The purple light cast by the Jetii’kad shone on Master Windu’s face. His face, as it had been throughout their short, passionate fight, was completely at ease but for a spark of anger in his eyes. His robe, which had swirled and flared so dramatically when he fought, was scored from blaster bolts and one sleeve had a long cut in it from where Jaster had slashed at him with a dagger. Jaster felt a deep satisfaction knowing that he’d held his own against the Jetii for so long.

‘The old stories weren’t wrong. If all Jetii are like him... oh, my. No.’ He stared at Master Windu’s stern face, his square jaw and bright eyes. “No. No one could possibly be like him.’

Jaster said, “I think we can call this match. I am entirely undone.”

Master Windu narrowed his eyes, clearly thinking, then straightened his back. His face smoothed out, his whole posture eased. He extinguished his Jetii’kad and attached the short metal hilt to his belt.

Jaster stood up. “My apologizes for not giving you a better match, I’m sure our next bout will be more interesting.” He was going to do everything he could to heal up so he could challenge Master Windu to a fight that would show off his skills to a more flattering degree. “I believe Obi-Wan said your name is Mace. May I call you that?”

Master Windu took a step back, away from Jaster. “Do you mean Padawan Kenobi?”

Almost too late, Jaster realized his mistake. “He gave me permission to use his name. He explained very thoroughly that it was disrespectful to use his name until he gave that permission. I don’t intend any insult.”

For a long while, Master Windu said nothing. Then his shoulders relaxed. “Then there is no trouble. We do like to have our younglings respected and it has been an issue, lately.”

Jaster nodded, then wiped a hand over his face. “Yes. Anakin said a few things that trouble me about your Chancellor. We have much to talk about.”

“You may call me ‘Mace’ and I agree. But I hope I’ve convinced you that I am able to assure Padawan Kenobi and Future Initiate Skywalker’s safety.”

“Oh, yes. You were wonderful. Anyone under your protection is very lucky.”

Mace sniffed. “If you ask my Depa, she may disagree. She thought I was entirely too strict with curfew.”

“Depa?”

“My padawan. She’s not a Padawan anymore, though.”

“She’s your ad? Your... er... child?”

Mace hesitated and considered the question. “In a manner of speaking, I suppose one might consider our relationship in that vein, even if it’s not entirely correct.”

‘I’m getting another ad!’ But Jaster knew he had to play it cool. Didn’t want to spook Mace, as he was clearly shy. He couldn’t help but smile. “I look forward to meeting her. You’ve already met my Jango, my pride and joy, and you saw Satine, but she has a younger sister, Bo-Katan, the most adorable little girl you’ve ever seen.”

They stood for a moment, awkwardly just looking at each other, before Mace said, “Then... are we to put all this behind us?”

Aghast at such a suggestion, Jaster assured him, “No! Not at all. I look forward to fighting with you all the time! No matter where you go, no matter what you do, know that I’ll be thinking of a way to get to you.” Cheerfully, he added, “And I’ll work on my swordsmanship so we can have an even better fight, next time.” He slapped Mace on the shoulder before he headed for the door. “In fact, I’m pretty sure that Jetiise are going to be very popular targets for Mando’ade when word of your skills gets around.”

He might have imagined that Mace gave a long, sad sigh. “I am willing to fight any battle, but I need to know - are you going to try to prevent us from taking the younglings back to our people?”

Jaster froze with his hand on the door. His face fell and he turned to look at Mace. “No. No, I would never keep ade from their beloved families. But it will hurt to lose them. For now, I hope you’ll be our guests.”

Mace didn’t move. “We won’t stay. The younglings must be returned to our people.”

Jaster would be lying if he said his heart didn’t sink at that. He must not have made a good impression on Mace. ‘It’s what I get for not waiting!’ Jaster scolded himself. ‘I should have waited to fight him until I was fully healed from the Challenge Match with the Goran!’

“I think you don’t appreciate my people.” Jaster tried very hard not to sound desperate. “I would like to show you what Mandalorians are really capable of! I can show you our true strength, show you how powerful and skilled we are! There are good reasons why we have been a force to be reckoned with for countless millennium and even now, when we are brought so low, we are greatly feared throughout the expanses of the galaxy. I hope to have time to show you who we are. Perhaps you’ve only heard of Death Watch? They are scum! Weak and cowardly! Most of us are of finer quality! I have heard that you have left Coruscanta and that your people have no home. Let me prove to you that it is wiser to keep your thoughts on Mandalore, rather than the Republic.” He took an impulsive step closer to Mace. “The foundation of the galaxy will rock when Mando’ade and Jetii come together!”

MACE-

‘Honestly,’ Mace put his hand on his lightsaber as Mand’alor Mereel got himself worked up. ‘I just wanted to get the younglings.’

Mand’alor Mereel took yet another step closer and declared, “I’m flattered by your proposed relationship,”

‘Relationship?’

Mand’alor Mereel continued, with a bright smile, “Let me prove myself to you. In truth, I have never much considered swearing myself to a spouse, but the moment you proposed a relationship all that changed. Don’t go, yet. We should get to know each other.”

Mace thought back to what he’d said when he met Mand’alor Mereel. He thought about Obi-Wan trying to tell him something. He remembered the book Master Jocasta had sent about the customs of Mandalorians - the book he hadn’t quite finished - and he had a strong suspicion of what he’d done wrong. ‘Oh, dear.’

Mand’alor Mereel slapped Mace on the shoulder hard enough that it nearly knocked him over. “You stay here, just a little while. Let us show you Mando’ade hospitality, at least until Obi-Wan is completely well. We won’t try to keep you prisoner here when you wish to leave. Ori’haat!”

Mace closed his eyes. He had truly made a rather magnificent mistake. ‘First time off Coruscant in years and I go and cause political upheaval. Of course.’ His ulcer complained. He felt sick. Mace opened himself to the Force and all felt well. He believed Mand’alor Mereel’s sincerity and it was a generous offer that would not only give Obi-Wan time to finish healing, but would also give Anakin time to adjust. “I will accept your offer to give Padawan Kenobi time to rest and have Future Initiate Skywalker get more accustomed to us before meeting all of our people.”

A soft ‘beep’ caught Mace’s attention. He took from inside his robe a small transmitter. “I have a message. Will it offend you if I take a moment to listen?” The transmission code wasn’t familiar, but he could hope it was Master Yoda. When Mand’alor Mereel gave his consent for Mace to interrupt their conversation, Mace activated the transmitter and listened to the audio message.

“Master Windu,” the voice of Chancellor Palaptine came through and Mace’s gut ached. “It’s with great distress that I’ve learned all the Jedi have abandoned Coruscant. There are many people here who are worried, worried what this could mean for the Republic. If someone has offended you, I would have you tell me so I could help. There are people who believe the Jedi have turned against the Republic, no matter what I say to them. I must ask that you contact me at once. Tell me what has happened and where you’ve gone. It’s not just for my peace of mind that I ask - there are growing whispers in the Senate about your Temple. They say that the Jedi Temple should be demolished - that if there are no Jedi living in it, then the Temple is merely a waste of space and must make room for new buildings. You must return to Coruscant to save your Temple.”

The message ended.

Mace deactivated the transmitter and put it back into his robe pocket.

Sounding horrified, Jaster asked, “They will destroy your home?”

Mace’s ulcer burned and boiled at the thought of the Temple, home to many generations of Jedi, sanctuary from all the troubles of the outside world, being torn down. He had to pause to keep himself from being ill in front of Mand’alor Mereel. When his stomach settled, he said, “My home is where my people are. We can build a new Temple. Perhaps we might rejoin the others, now? I am eager to see how the younglings are. Also, I would very much appreciate it if we were given time to pay our respects to Master Jinn.”

To Be Continued...

Ad- child
Ade - children
Mando’ade - Mandalorians
Coruscanta - Coruscant
Ori’haat - truth
Jetii’Kad - lightsaber

Chapter Text

Chapter 59: “I Tried.”

JASTER’S APARTMENT-
OBI-WAN-

Shortly after Master Windu and Jaster had returned from their fight, Obi-Wan sat at the eating table in Jaster’s apartment with Anakin on one side of him and Grandmaster Dooku on his other side. Obi-Wan felt strangely... good.

There was much to be done. Jaster and Master Windu sat on the couch as they discussed recent important events. Satine, sitting in a chair across from them, didn’t hesitate to add in with questions or information of her own when she felt it was needed. Jango stayed mainly silent and stood by the door like a sentry. Master Koon was making tea for everyone. The apartment was actually starting to feel quite full, but not in a crowded, stifling sort of way. It felt warm and comfortable. Despite all the talking and recent knowledge that he could no longer, and perhaps never again, call Coruscant his home, and that he was still recovering and the Force felt so horribly distant, Obi-Wan was feeling good. He was relaxed for the first time in weeks.

There were three Masters there to take control and be responsible, so Obi-Wan didn’t feel like he had the whole weight of the galaxy sitting on his shoulders. He even felt a bit stronger and not nearly so tired.

“Obi.” Anakin tugged on Obi-Wan’s sleeve. “Psst! Obi!”

At Anakin’s persistent whisper, Obi-Wan turned to him. “Yes?”

Anakin muttered, “I have a stupid question. Don’t laugh if I ask, okay?”

“There are no stupid questions. Every question you ask leads to greater understanding as you acquire knowledge.”

Anakin blinked and cast a doubtful look at Obi-Wan. “Yeah?”

“Yes. What would you like to ask?”

“I thought Master Windu was having an affair with Sissy Satine. Why is he marryin’ Boss Jaster?”

“Huh?”

“Sissy Satine said that Master Windu was coming here for a formal affair.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “I think that’s what she said. Anyway, if they’re having an affair, why is he marryin’ Boss Jaster?”

It took Obi-Wan a moment to realize what happened and it almost made him laugh. He didn’t, though, for fear of making Anakin think he was being laughed at. Instead, he explained what a ‘formal affair’ was.

Anakin beamed and leaned even closer. “That’s great! Then you ‘n Sissy can still make babies together!”

Obi-Wan discretely looked to make sure that no one was paying them any attention. Grandmaster Dooku was, but he didn’t seem a bit bothered by what Anakin had suggested. It was starting to worry Obi-Wan that Anakin kept dwelling on that particular subject. “Ani...”

“Well, I think it’s a good idea,” Anakin said, defensively. “You’d make really cute babies.”

“That’s not the point.” Obi-Wan looked at Anakin, ready to explain, but suddenly froze when he saw Anakin watching him with wide, earnest eyes, ready to listen to whatever Obi-Wan said. It struck him very hard that he had promised Master Qui-Gon that he would train Anakin. What if the Council really did decide that he was ready to be Knighted and Anakin became his Padawan? It had been a possibility since the moment Master Qui-Gon had Rejoined the Force, but, very suddenly, it seemed all too real. All of Obi-Wan’s earlier ease melted away. He was sure he wasn’t good enough. He swallowed hard and managed a smile. “That subject is for me and Satine to talk about. You don’t have to worry about it.”

Obi-Wan turned his attention to Jaster and Master Windu’s discussion. Master Windu told Jaster about their wait at the edge of the Solstice Storm, waiting to fetch Obi-Wan and Anakin, about the attack, and about the war on Naboo that had started everything.

Satine spoke about Jaster’s arrival on Mandalore and ascension to power while Jaster served snacks and offered his own perspective on that time.

Jango told Master Windu about Anakin’s distress call (Anakin looked terribly pleased to be the hero of that part of the story).

Jaster spoke about Obi-Wan’s medical issues when he’d been rescued, and some details of their stay on Mandalore. He told about the visit to the Yaim Be Bajur, the Death Watch attack, and the Festival of Stars. Jaster seemed ready to tell about what had happened to Obi-Wan’s braid, but Obi-Wan, suddenly leery of having such a discussion in public, blurted out,

“Master Telno is here.” When everyone froze and looked at him, he added, “I told Master Koon.”

“Yes,” Master Koon said. “Master Telno has been here for years, apparently. From what I’ve been told, she seems to have a sort of mind injury, though further examination by a healer will be necessary to discover exactly what has happened. Padawan Kenobi told me that she appears to remember things from her past, but she is confused and has difficulty communicating.”

Satine said, “They’re very fond of her at the Yaim Be Bajur. I can assure you that they wouldn’t let anyone hurt her.”

“None the less,” Master Windu said. “We need to see her and speak with her.”

“I’ll make arrangements for that to happen,” Satine said. She hesitated before adding, “If you could wait until morning, that would be ideal. Teacher Frewn runs the Yaim Be Bajur with an iron fist and we’ll have to ask her permission before we’re allowed in. Even the Mand’alor isn’t allowed in without her approval. I believe your Master Telno is easily distressed by sudden change and Teacher Frewn will want time to prepare her to see you. She will likely also want a medic on hand... just in case.”

Master Windu exchanged a look with Master Koon before he said, “That is both understandable and acceptable.”

There was more talk as the Masters and the Mandalorians all got caught up on what was going on and how, exactly, they’d all ended up in that moment. Jaster told them how he’d seen the danger of having the Mandalorian people governed by either pacifists or Death Watch and had stepped forward to offer a third alternative.

“And I’ve heard that the Jedi are having a bit of trouble. I don’t want to pry, but Sat’ika here,” he smiled warmly at Satine. “Is a smart cookie and found out straight away. Your people seem to have left Coruscant very quickly.”

Obi-Wan sat up a little straighter, eager to hear what had been happening back home.

Master Windu didn’t let anything show across his face. Obi-Wan so admired Master Windu. He was always so calm, so collected. Finding himself in an unexpected courtship had been the first time Obi-Wan could remember seeing him discomposed.

How awful Obi-Wan felt about that!

‘Jango said Mandalorians courted with fighting! I should have tried harder to make Master Windu listen.’

But even as he thought that, he could practically hear Master Qui-Gon tell him, “You tried. It’s not your fault he chose not to listen.”

Obi-Wan was fairly sure that Master Qui-Gon would have found the whole situation endlessly amusing.

“I’m afraid we weren’t at the Temple when the decision to leave Coruscant was made,” Master Windu said. “I can make an educated guess what made the situation so urgent, but I probably shouldn’t speak about it until I know for certain.”

Jango said, “Is it because of that chancellor? Anakin doesn’t like him and makes no secret about it.”

“Yes,” Jaster said. “Just before you all arrived, he told us that your chancellor would hurt Obi-Wan.”

And that was just too much. Obi-Wan turned sharply to look down at Anakin who looked back up at him with a stubborn pout. Anakin muttered, “He’s a creep and I don’t like him and he’ll hurt you.”

“But, Ani...”

Master Koon told Jaster, “Yes, the Chancellor’s behavior towards Padawan Kenobi and Future Initiate Skywalker has been a concern.”

Anakin said to Obi-Wan, “See? Told ya so.”

“Wait. What?” Obi-Wan looked from Anakin to the adults in the room. He settled on looking at Master Koon. “What do you mean? I don’t even know Sen.... I mean, Chancellor Palpatine. We only exchanged a few words on Naboo for about thirty seconds. What concern is there?”

Grandmaster Dooku almost lost enough self-control to scowl. “According to Feemor, the Chancellor has been asking to see both you and Future Initiate Skywalker.” His arms, where they were crossed over his chest, tightened just enough for Obi-Wan to be amazed at his grandmaster’s ire. He had never seen Grandmaster Dooku so furious.

“But that’s not so bad,” Obi-Wan protested. “There’s nothing wrong with a visit.”

“Alone,” Grandmaster Dooku said, his teeth almost grinding. “He wanted to see the both of you alone. Without a chaperone. At his home. Feemor told me that he had even made rather thinly veiled threats against the Order about what might happen if he weren’t allowed your company.”

The mention of Obi-Wan’s eldest brother was a surprise, but Obi-Wan couldn’t focus on it. When Satine asked if it was so bad to see the chancellor on their own, Obi-Wan answered, “It’s not done. We have rules in the Order and one of them is that no one under the rank of Knight is allowed to associate with adults outsiders without supervision. All the Knights and Masters are very strict with that rule. If for no other reason, Jedi youths must be guarded as they are often targets of slavers.”

“While there are unfortunate situations when a Master and Padawan get separated while on a mission, I’m sure you can see the difference between that and an adult who is in a position of power over us to all but demand unsupervised access to our younglings. I expect the Chancellor is the reason why the decision was made to leave. As soon as we’re able to, we’ll rejoin our people and find out what actually happened.”

Obi-Wan felt a tendril of alarm for Anakin - Anakin was completely untrained and probably wouldn’t be able to defend himself and, as such, was a prime target for an insidious person - and for himself. The insinuation of what the chancellor wanted from them... ew.

The conversation turned to Anakin having gotten caught up in the attack against Satine and the pink paint, for which Jaster and Jango both gave sincere apologies and reassurances that the attacker was under lock and key and no longer a threat. Next, Jaster asked about their food situation.

“We have plenty,” Master Windu said.

“Obi-Wan said your people live off something called ‘mash’. That doesn’t sound like food to me,” Jaster said.

“It’s perfectly workable. It’s cheap and keeps every species in our Order fed and healthy.”

Jaster sniffed. “Still doesn’t sound like food. I think you need spice in your diet.”

They moved on to talking about the Sith.

The soft slide of metal against stone caught Obi-Wan’s attention and he looked down to see that Anakin had moved his chair closer to Obi-Wan. When he sat in his seat, he was close enough that he could lean against Obi-Wan’s side. Still whispering, as if afraid to disturb the grown-ups, Anakin softly asked,

“Obi? Hey, Obi?”

“Yes?”

“Was Master Jinn a Sith?”

Only the knowledge that Anakin had no idea what sort of insult that was to a Jedi stopped Obi-Wan from scolding Anakin. Any youngling at the Temple would have gotten told off for even suggesting such a thing about a member of the Order. As it was, Obi-Wan just shook his head. “No. The Sith was the one who killed Master Qui-Gon. You saw him on Tatooine, remember?”

“Yes, but Master Windu just said Sith have yellow eyes, right?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I had a dream and Master Jinn was in it and he had yellow eyes. I thought it was weird, but he said I’d understand when I was older. So, if Sith have yellow eyes and he had yellow eyes, then he’d be a Sith, right? And I know dreams aren’t really real, but Jedi and Sith got magic, right? So, maybe it was really real this time and not a dream.”

“Dreams are an interesting subject,” Grandmaster Dooku said in the voice that Obi-Wan always thought of as his ‘teaching’ voice. “Jedi do not use magic. We are in tune with the Force. It’s entirely different. Yes, dreams are sometimes more than just dreams. It is not unheard of for Jedi to have visions that seem like dreams, but those are remarkably rare. And you must be careful about using yellow eyes as a sign of Sith - they are quite common in several species. Now, was this a happy dream or a nightmare?”

“It started out kinda bad,” Anakin said, sort of shrugging. “But it turned nice. I think Master Jinn made it turn nice.” Then he grinned up at Obi-Wan from where he leaned against his side. “You were in my dream! You were flying with a jet pack and teaching me to sword fight!”

Grandmaster Dooku nearly smiled at that. “I think we have an explanation. Dreams are tricky things, young Anakin. Sometime, it is hard to understand them. I think it likely that your mind was trying to make sense of recent events. You had seen a terrifying Sith and had just lost Master Jinn. Then are you here where you are,” he shot a quick look at their hosts, still occupied with sharing information with Masters Windu and Koon. “Treated very kindly. So your mind was mixing up happy and scary things. It is no great leap of the imagination to think your subconscious mind may have mixed up Master Jinn and the Sith.”

Anakin swung his feet back and forth. “So... he wasn’t a Sith? You’re sure?”

“I am.”

Anakin started to shake his head. “I dunno. It seemed real. I think it mighta been real.”

“I can assure you that Master Jinn was not Sith. We would have surely been able to sense it, if he had been. We don’t know who the other Sith was, but we will find them.” The tolerant smile he’d worn for Anakin tightened into something hard. “We will most certainly find them.”

The conversation went on for a little longer until Jaster said, “I am not reassured by what you tell me of your treatment in the Republic. I think you should all consider our hospitality. I’m sure you’ll find Mandalorian morals more to your liking.” He focused besotted eyes on Mace. “I know I’d like you all to stay.”

Master Windu’s eyes widened before he turned his face away from Jaster. “Perhaps we should pay respects to Master Jinn?”

IN THE INFIRMARY-

In the interests of giving their guests privacy, Jaster, Jango, and Satine remained outside the room that was housing Master Qui-Gon while the rest of them went in. They stood in a line in front of the stasis pod protecting Master Qui-Gon, silent and still. Obi-Wan stood next to Grandmaster Dooku while Anakin stood on Obi-Wan’s other side, holding Obi-Wan’s belt, trustingly. Masters Windu and Koon stood next to Anakin.

Obi-Wan was fine. He was just fine. There was nothing at all for him to continue mourning over. He’d had time to stay his farewells, to release the emotions that had struck him so fearsomely hard when he’d watched his Master fall. His throat was not, at all, tightening as he stood there and looked at his strong, sure Master laying there... nothing but a body.

‘Not dead,’ Obi-Wan told himself. ‘He is with the Force. He’s not gone. Not really.”

For all that he thought he was handling things very well, he did worry for his Grandmaster. He shifted his eyes, just a bit, to look at his Grandmaster. Grandmaster Dooku was as he ever was - tall and stern, not a hint that he was feeling anything at all at the sight of his dead Padawan. He had always seemed strong enough that no hardship or pain could ever affect him.

No matter what Grandmaster Dooku looked like on the outside, Obi-Wan knew he felt. Knew he loved and hurt and grieved because in the Force those emotions showed perfectly well, when Grandmaster Dooku allowed it, and, as his Grandpadwan, Obi-Wan had been privileged to feel that side of him, often.

Yet, Grandmaster Dooku just stood there. Very slowly, he reached out a hand and lay it against the transparent cover shielding Master Qui-Gon. “Oh... ” Grandmaster Dooku breathed it out like a sigh. “My dear boy. My silly... impossible youngling.”

“I’m sorry.” Obi-Wan spoke before he really thought about it. If he’d thought about it, he would have kept his mouth shut and let Grandmaster Dooku have his moment of grief. But he didn’t think. “I’m so sorry,” Obi-Wan’s throat squeezed tighter, so tight that it was almost painful to speak.

Grandmaster Dooku turned to look at him, his hand never leaving the surface of Master Qui-Gon’s stasis pod. His eyes were calm, but Obi-Wan’s chest began to hurt under the steady gaze of his Grandmaster.

Finally, after what seemed like hours locked under his Grandmaster’s implacable eyes, Grandmaster Dooku said, “You feel guilty? For this?” He moved his hand slightly, his long fingers twitching - like the legs of a spider - on the stasis pod. “For the work of a Sith?”

It was a struggle, almost physically painful, to keep his back straight and not turn his face away from Grandmaster Dooku, not to try to hide, but Obi-Wan managed it. “I tried. I really tried to help. I wasn’t fast enough. The energy shields kept closing and I couldn’t get close enough. Master fought the Sith. I should have been with him, we’re a team, we should have fought together, but I was too slow. I was too slow. Not good enough. I’m never good enough.”

He didn’t cry. Obi-Wan didn’t cry through that confession. Not a single tear fell.

“You are just as impossible as your Master, Obi-Wan.”

Obi-Wan’s breath caught at the rarely heard warmth in his Grandmaster’s voice. “Sir?”

“Do you think your Master would blame you for his fate? Would he want you to take all that guilt? And what is this nonsense about ‘I’m never good enough’? Eh? What is that?”

Obi-Wan let out a choked, weak laugh. “I’m going to regret saying that, aren’t I?”

Grandmaster Dooku folded his hands in the sleeves of his robe and raised his chin enough that he looked down his nose at Obi-Wan. “I think I shall be having a long talk with your... what were they called here? Psych-medic? Yes. That is it. I will be speaking with your psych-medic about methods of boosting your self-esteem. Arrogance is a vice to be avoided at all costs, and it is a type of arrogance to think yourself so powerful that you can prevent all harm from every person you care for.”

Obi-Wan stared at him.

“I do not blame you for something you didn’t do. Don’t drag yourself to your knees by taking guilt that isn’t yours.”

“But... but if I’d been faster...”

“If I had been there that day, perhaps I could have saved him. I wasn’t. Am I to blame?”

“No. No, Grandmaster. Of course not.”

“Then give yourself some kindness. I know you’re in pain and I know you wish things could have been different. But this is reality and we will live with it. He would want you to be happy.” He leaned in close, as if to whisper a secret. “You’ve always been very empathetic, Obi-Wan. You want to make everyone around you safe and happy and it hurts you when you can be perfect for everyone around you. You must release this pain and guilt into the Force. Let it go. It doesn’t serve you.”

“I can’t feel the Force.”

“You don’t have to - the Force can feel you.”

Obi-Wan loved his Grandmaster. He wanted to do as he was told, but it was so hard. He felt like he was falling apart on the inside, like his whole self wanted to crack like an egg. Obi-Wan closed his eyes. “I’m sorry for hurting you, too.”

“You haven’t hurt me.”

“But I did. You tried to touch my neck and I moved away.”

“A slight flinch is nothing to worry about. You’ve had a rough couple of weeks.”

“It’s not that. Sir... I...” He HAD to tell his Grandmaster. Everyone in the Fortress knew. The staff knew, Jaster and Jango knew. He couldn’t leave his Grandmaster to be the only person who didn’t know. He started to raise his hands up to push his hood back, but froze at the last minute.

Master Koon said, “I think Mace and I will take our leave for a bit. We’ll be in the other room if you need us. Anakin, dear, come with us.” He held out a clawed hand and waited until Anakin, reluctantly and only with an encouraging nod from Obi-Wan, went to him.

Very thankful for Master Koon’s discretion, Obi-Wan met his Grandmaster’s eyes and pushed down the hood of his robe.

As was to be expected, Grandmaster Dooku saw at once what the trouble was. His eyes went wide, as his immense self-control momentarily slipped, then narrowed. And then, to Obi-Wan’s everlasting shock, something happened that had never happened in his life. He would remember it until his dying day.

He was being hugged.

By Grandmaster Dooku.

Grandmaster Dooku was hugging him, both arms wrapped tightly around Obi-Wan, holding him close. It was such an unexpected moment that Obi-Wan wondered, distantly, if he were dreaming. Grandmaster Dooku didn’t hug people.

“My dear boy,” Grandmaster Dooku said. “Where is it?”

Obi-Wan, making no effort to pull away or end the soft moment, looked at Master Qui-Gon’s stasis pod. “I gave it to Master. It seemed right. I wasn’t sure what else to do.”

After a time, Master Dooku released Obi-Wan and stepped back. “I understand. Then he will keep that which you honored him with. Now, who else knows?”

“Jaster’s been good enough to try to keep things quiet, but a lot of people know. Jaster, Jango, Satine, Anakin, Doctor Gihan. I’m sure some other people have heard and there were probably rumors, but they’re the ones who know. I don’t think they really understand, but they’ve been kind about the whole mess.” He looked over to the open door that led out of the private room Master Qui-Gon’s stasis pod was in and into the main infirmary. He could see Master Koon talking to Master Windu while Anakin, still holding Master Koon’s hand, looked over his shoulder at Obi-Wan. “Master Windu didn’t know, but I suppose Master Koon is tell him, now. So, you see, I wasn’t flinching away from you, but when you reached for me, you reached for the side where my braid had been and it startled me.”

For a few minutes, there was silence when Obi-Wan stopped talking. He watched his Grandmaster, unafraid - who could possibly be afraid of Grandmaster Dooku? - for some reaction, but the man was as steady and calm as ever. Reassuring. However, when Grandmaster Dooku spoke there was something different in his voice, something Obi-Wan head never heard before. He heard danger.

Softly, Grandmaster Dooku asked, “Who did it?”

To Be Continued...

Chapter Text

WARNING: This chapter has a warning. If you’d like to take a look at that first, please go to the end of the chapter.

CHAPTER 60: SHATTERED

PAV-

At the West side of Keldabe, the opposite side of the city from where the Landing Field was, Pav kept himself concealed around the corner of a butcher’s shop and peered around that corner at his next obstacle in finding the truth from Herna. The guarded Sunset Gate. There were two verde on guard duty, naturally armored and with visible weapons, but also one unarmored man. That man wore soft cloth and a nervous look that all but screamed, ‘Not sure how I got here. What’s going on?’

Pav turned up the audio in his helmet.

The unarmored man said, “Is there ever any action out here? It’s been quiet for hours.”

One of the verde said, “Don’t you worry about that, Metek. With Death Watch around, there’s always the chance of an attack. Chances are, you’ll see more action that you want, sooner or later. Isn’t that right, Isolna?”

The second verd nodded. “I wouldn’t bring you out here for training if I thought it was going to be just standing around all the time. It’s quiet enough that I can help you work on your marksmanship, but there is always a chance that Death Watch will try to sneak into the city and you’ll get some practical experience. You just remember to hide if things get rough. I don’t want to be telling your riduur that you’ve gone Marching Ahead.”

The second, unnamed verd asked. “His riduur?”

“Nole,” Isolna told him. “Ladies’ Maid to the young Duchess.”

The second verd nodded. “Oh. Yes. I’ve heard of her.” He looked at the unarmored man, Metek, and said, “You’re a lucky man. I’ve heard she’s got real fire in her veins.”

Metek looked puzzled. “I have no idea why people keep saying that. Nole is very sweet and gentle.”

“I heard she’d beat a Death Watch operative half to death with a club during the last attack.”

“Well... yes, but I’m sure she was just scared for our baby. And those rumors are most likely highly exaggerated. Nole is the most kindhearted person who ever lived.” Then he paused a moment before he asked Verd Isolna, “How’s that prisoner you caught? The one you grabbed when you were helping get the Jedi?”

“Jetiise,” Isolna said. “You need to work on your Mando’a. And he’s still unconscious. Took a real blow to the head during battle.” He smiled, ruefully. “Soon as he wakes up, we’ll find out what’s going on with all that.”

The second verd said, “He must be pretty stupid if he thought it was a good idea to play dress up as a Mando’ad and attack our Jetiise.”

Isolna sniffed. “I’m sure he’s not stupid. Probably just got led astray by bad influences. You should have seen him during the battle. Fought with all his strength and when his comrade went down, he stayed to guard her instead of trying to run away like the rest of that lot. She was dead, but he didn’t know that at that the time. There’s something about him.”

Incredulously, Metek asked, “Are you really going to try to keep him? He attacked and fought against Verd Fett. Mand’alor Mereel will probably want to have him killed!”

But Isolna shrugged. “Oh, it wasn’t that serious. He never stood a chance against our Jango.”

Pav kept to his observation place for a time and listened. It seemed that Metek was being offered instruction by the verd, Isolna, and, to further that aim, he had brought Metek along with him on his guard duty rotation. Pav approved. It was a noble duty, to guide someone on such a righteous path. But there was no time for him to offer instruction, much as he would have been honored to. He had finally gotten a trace on Herna and he couldn’t let her slip by him. Her very soul was on the line.

Pav looked down at his gauntlet where, on the back of it, there was a small square button. It was experimental, he’d only finished it a few days before he’d left The Tribe to go to Mandalore, but there was no better time for a field test. He pressed the button and immediately, his whole armor was covered in a ripple of a shimmer before he vanished.

A look in the butcher’s window showed Pav... nothing. It was as if he wasn’t there. He knew better, of course. He hadn’t actually vanished. That would have been impossible. Rather, his new invention - a camouflage imager - had covered his armor with perfect camouflage, making him blend in with his surroundings so completely that he seemed invisible, even to himself.

Once he was hidden, it was no great task to slip by the guards and into the desert beyond the glass dome of Keldable. When he was outside of the dome, he looked ahead to Sundari. He had heard the rumors of it, everyone had. If one was a part of the Mandalorian Empire, then one heard of Sundari. Duke Kryze had made no secret of it or his ambition to abandon the traditional Capitol City, the heart of the Mandalorian Empire, Keldabe. He had spent great riches that, in all truthfulness, the Empire didn’t have, to build the city and even then, Sundari wasn’t finished. Even at a distance, it was just as impressive as Keldable, with tall buildings of metal and glass under its’ glass dome. But it was a city that was uninhabited and as Mand’alor Mereel seemed of a more traditional nature, the city was likely to stay that way unless Keldable grew overpopulated.

The desert was hot and dry in the late afternoon, but Pav’s armor was in perfect working order - as it should be, given his calling - and his internal environmental controls kept him perfectly comfortable. He began to walk. The intel he’d gathered led him to strongly believe that Herna had left Keldabe and gone in the direction on Sudari, though he couldn’t imagine why.

It would have been faster to fly, but the sound of his jet pack would ruin the camouflage he’d worked so hard to create. It was a project for another day - to find some way to eradicate the sound a jet pack made or to, at least, muffle it. But that wasn’t something to focus on at the moment. He had to focus on finding Herna and, finally discovering the truth of the matter.

‘And Jango Fett. I will have to think about Jango Fett.’

The long walk to Sundari was an excellent opportunity to let his mind dwell on such important matters and he needed every moment to think because, sooner or later, he would have to find the right way to tell his dear ad, Arla, that her ori’vod was alive and well.

MEMORY-

Arla bawled miserably and choked out between her tears, “I want Jango! Jango! Ori’vod!”

They had escaped Vizsla, had left the battlefield and found safety where they could regroup and decide what to do. While the others discussed their situation or prepared their little, temporary camp, Pav sat with his rescued foundling, holding her in his arms as she howled out her pain and fear and anger.

“I’m so sorry, little one,” Pav told her as he rubbed her back, comfortingly. “We looked. We couldn’t find him, but we looked. It’s alright, ad’ika. You cry as long as you need.”

So Arla cried, desperate for her ori’vod, and Pav couldn’t do anything to help her.

END MEMORY-

It had been a tough start for their little aliit, but as time passed Arla grew happy and content with her life. But now, perhaps Pav could give her something he had never imagined - her ori’vod.

Jango Fett had turned out well. To imagine that he was the same Jango as Pav had heard about when he’d been finding information about the would-be Mand’alor Mereel and found that he had an ad. He had seen Jango a time or two - helping Satine Kryze to train and then at the Festival of Stars as he’d walked through the festival helping to keep the little ones amused and safe. Jango looked well. He wasn’t overly tall, but was a brawny young man who had the look of someone who was well cared for. He clearly hadn’t lacked for food or training. He had seemed a cheerful young man when Pav had seen him, quick to laugh and talk.

No matter how he decided to go about it, they would have to be told the truth - even if it meant the danger of Arla deciding to leave Pav and the Tribe to live with her ori’vod. His heart hurt at the thought of losing her, but she had to know.

It was hours later when Pav reached Sundari and he began to carefully search for Herna. There was something eerie about the empty city. It was too quiet, too lifeless. It wasn’t until Pav found himself on the top of one of the buildings that he spotted Herna standing below in what appeared to be a city center - a wide open area clearly meant for gatherings.

Tor Vizsla was also there, a few paces away from Herna.

Pav turned his helmet’s audio to the highest setting and made sure to direct it at his targets.

Vizsla said, “You know I can help. I’ve been watching. Seems you had a bit of a dealing with one of my people - Trion Lubek.”

“He was a stupid coward. I didn’t need his help and I don’t need yours.”

Pav fought not turn his eyes away from Herna’s face. It wasn’t improper. She had willingly bared her face and was no longer bound, or protected, by the Creed.

“Don’t be like that. We can be civil to each other, old friends as we are.”

“Friends?” Herna sneered at him. “You wage war against farmers... against ade.”

Vizsla’s grin widened. “And so do you. You said you’re after that Jetii boy and went and tore off his little braid. Made him bleed all over himself. I have operatives in the city, you know. They tell me that Mereel had to take the Jetii boy for medical care. The boy was seen stumbling so pitifully after his attack that even my hardened verde were touched.” He put a hand over his heart and mockingly said, “The poor traumatized boy. To be attacked so brutally.”

Herna lurched at Vizsla at the accusation, only stopped when he aimed his blaster at her gut. Judging by the look on her face, if he hadn’t had a weapon in hand, she might have killed him in that moment. “I saved him from the Jetiise! He doesn’t belong to them, he never should have been with them! Of course I tore that wretched braid off! Blood? Who cares for a little blood when I have saved him, when I can have him?!”

Hidden by his helmet, Pav closed his eyes and let out a disappointed, grieving sigh. That was it. She was done, convicted her by her own confession. Abandoning her armor could be forgiven. If she willingly went to the Living Waters and washed away her sins, she could be reborn into The Tribe and swear herself to the Creed for a second time. To deliberately attack - from the way she’d spoken, there could be no excusing it as a mistake - an ad... that was not so easily washed away.

Vizsla said when Herna’s outburst ran its’ course, “There’s no reason to get so upset. I think we can help each other.”

“Lubek thought that, too. He’s locked up in Mereel’s dungeon, now.”

“I don’t plan on getting caught. And it’s very simple. I have a respectable sized force of people and each one of them is more than willing to cause trouble for all of Keldabe. It wouldn’t be all that much trouble to spirit that Jetii boy away while all the verde are distracted by my people. I can have him delivered right into your loving arms.”

“And what would the cost be for your generous help?”

“Nothing you’ll miss - just the location of your covert.”

Pav froze. His breath felt too hot in his lungs.

Herna was quiet for a long while. “And you’ll give me my boy?”

‘No!’ Pav raised his blaster up and aimed. He would kill her. She had already hurt one ad and she was a clear threat to the others. He fired, but the blaster bolt ricocheted off something invisible and, from where it hit on the invisible ‘thing’, a barely detectable ripple ran through the air, showing the outline of a dome over Vizsla and Herna. Pav’s eyes flicked down and he saw the small black cube on the ground near them that was obviously an energy shield projector.

A trap.

He’d fallen right into a trap.

Vizsla had looked up when Pav had fired his blaster and pointed sharply to where Pav, still hidden by his camouflage imager, lurked. “There! Get him! Bring him to me!”

Pav cursed his own stupidity for not suspecting a trap. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to be wary of anyone or anything, his mind had been entirely taken up with the need to find Herna. But Mand’alor Mereel was a well-known enemy of Vizsla’s, which would make Vizsla very interested in the outcome of Mand’alor Mereel’s Challenge Matches. Add to that the continuing, unpredictable Death Watch attacks and Pav should have known that Vizsla was in the area. Even if he hadn’t been, Pav’s Challenge Match with Mand’alor Mereel had been broadcast almost literally everywhere and there was little chance anyone could have missed it.

Before Pav could even get to his feet, there was the rushing sound of jet packets and five verd, all of them wearing Death Watch colors, were descending around him. His hope that the camouflage imager might keep him secret long enough to creep away were destroyed when Vizsla’s people began to, in their typically thoughtless manner, fire their blasters at random. One of them hit Pav’s hand and the camouflage imager on his gauntlet exploded and everyone saw him.

It was over, then. Pav was a good warrior, good enough that he’d held his own respectably against Mand’alor Mereel in a fair fight. But neither Vizsla nor his people did anything fairly and five against one were not good odds for even the best warriors. As hard as he fought, there was no hope and he knew it. He was beaten down before they dragged him to Vizsla.

Herna watched from a few yards behind Vizsla, her eyes wide.

“Didn’t I tell you?” Vizsla said to Herna, though he kept his eyes on Pav. “Of course he would be looking for you. You were excellent bait.” Vizsla smiled at Pav, but it was cold and without any real feeling behind it. “I’ve been waiting for this for a long time, traitor.”

Pav wasn’t afraid to die. After all, death wasn’t an end, just a change. He would see his forbearers, again, if he died, and go Marching with them. It would be terrible to leave Arla and all the people of The Tribe who depended on him, but he had no doubt that they were all capable enough to take care of themselves without him. He didn’t fear any pain that Vizsla might inflict upon him as pain was only temporary and would end, one way or the other. So with that mind set, he glared at Vizsla. “No matter what you do to me, it won’t help you. You’ll never be Mand’alor, now. The people love Mereel.”

There was a momentary flash of something dark and sour in his eyes, but the coldness quickly reasserted itself. “Then I guess I’ll need something to convince the people that Mereel isn’t the rightful Mand’alor. Something old. Something... traditional.”

And Pav knew what Vizsla was after. “The Jetii have it.”

“Not for long.” He said to his people, “Hold him still.” He put both hands out and it took Pav a moment to realize what Vizsla was doing, but when he understood, he renewed his fight. He struggled and fought and desperately tried to free himself, but Vizsla’s people stepped down hard on the backs of Pav’s legs, preventing him from standing up. They held both of his arms, twisting them painfully back until his wrists nearly touched his shoulder blades.

Vizsla removed Pav’s helmet.

The air against his bare skin was hot. The light of the setting sun seemed wrong without being filtered through his visor.

Pav felt... empty. Gone. He was gone.

Vizsla smirked down at him. “Look at that pretty face. You should have shown it off years ago.” Vizsla dropped Pav’s helmet carelessly on the ground where it landed with a clank and rolled twice before it came to a stop. He squatted down in front of Pav and whispered, “You’re dead now. Aren’t you? I’ve seen your face and now you’re dead? Isn’t that what your kind believes? It was so easy. Once I knew you were here and once Trion Lubek told me what she,” he jerked a thumb over his shoulder to where Herna watched. “Had done and what she wanted with the Jetii brat, it was no trouble at all to work out such a simple trap. My people in Keldabe dropped hints and clues that led you here and you walked right in.” He slapped Pav, an insultingly weak blow, then stood up. “Take his weapons. Take everything.”

It took only seconds for them to strip Pav of his blasters, his knives, his sword, and every other weapon on his person. They took his jet pack. They took his armor and dumped it unceremoniously on the ground. Then Vizsla stuck two knives in Pav’s thighs. Pav had good working knowledge of biology and knew there were very important arteries near where Vizsla had stuck him. The pain was nothing. Pain was temporary. Pav stared at his fallen helmet.

“Drop him.”

Pav fell to the ground, stunned and numb in his mind.

“You’re going to bleed to death out here.” Vizsla looked down at Pav with a happiness that didn’t seem quite normal. “This city was abandoned when Duke Kryze was killed and now it gathers dust.” He picked up Pav’s vambrace with the transmitter in it. “No one will come out here in the next short while that it will take for you to bleed out. I am going to go find the people you stole from me and I’m going to kill them. But the little blonde girl you took from me... I’ll keep her.”

One of Vizsla’s people said, “Sir, is that smart? We can just kill him now.”

“Shut up,” Vizsla said. “I want him to suffer. I want him to die in pain and alone.”

Pav dragged in a deep breath, like a gasp. He looked beyond Vizsla to Herna. “Please! The ade! Our people! Don’t give them to him!”

Herna was quiet for so long that Pav thought the blood loss might be affecting his mind. But she then looked away from Pav to Vizsla. “You’ll help me get my boy?”

“Of course. Easily done. We’ll get the boy and you and he will become Death Watch. Having a trained Jetii may be useful.”

Herna nodded. “Then we have an agreement.”

They left and Pav was alone in the empty city. He lay there and felt himself growing weak. He felt as if something big, something important, had shattered inside him.

‘Arla,’ he thought of his dear ad’s little face and her upturned nose and her chubby cheeks that she was just starting to grow out of. ‘Arla. He’s going after my Arla.’

Pav tried to stand, but his legs wouldn’t hold him. He reached for his helmet, hoping to use the helmet’s communication system, but it had rolled too far away and his strength was quickly escaping him. He crawled only a few feet before exhaustion and his darkening vision forced him to stop. But he knew what Vizsla would do to Arla. He had heard such terrible stories of what Death Watch did to the ade they captured.

‘He can’t have her! He can’t have any of them! He can’t have my Tribe!’ Pav gritted his teeth and clawed at the ground to help him crawl just a few inches closer to his helmet.

Breathing hurt.

His heart was beating too fast.

A large hand fell on his shoulder and a deep, steady voice said, “Be easy. I’m here to help.”

To Be Continued...

WARNING:

This warning is for Vizsla being a terrible person. Pav will be robbed of his helmet, his weapons, hurt, and forced to show his face.

Glossary-

Vod-city - sibling city
Verd - warrior
Aliit - family / clan
Ori’vod - elder sibling
ad’ika - little child

Chapter Text

Chapter 61: A Healing Outburst

Mandalore-
The Infirmary-
Anakin-

In the Infirmary, just outside the room where Master Jinn’s body was being kept, Anakin stood with the grown-ups and waited for Obi-Wan. He looked over at the window in the door of the room Master Jinn was in and saw Grandpa Dooku hugging Obi-Wan. That was nice. Obi-Wan needed lots of hugs. He looked back at the grown-ups he was with and wondered why they didn’t want him with Obi-Wan. It didn’t seem like they actually needed him there - they were only talking about stuff to do.

‘Why can’t I stay with Obi?’ He wanted to ask. ‘I know he lost his braid. It’s not a secret. He feels bad. I should be with him.’ But he didn’t say anything. It sounded like whining and he didn’t know the grown-up Jedi good enough to risk it.