Title: Dha Werda

Characters: Darman, Etain
Timeline: Sometime during Episode 3, after Order 66 is given.

Disclaimer: Star Wars, Darman, Etain, and the Republic Commandos do not belong to me. They belong to LucasFilms and Karen Traviss. Likewise, the Mando'a language used in this fic is the creation of Karen Traviss. I'm just borrowing for my own little fun.

Summary: He's never liked disobeying orders. But maybe some are meant to be broken.


Execute Order 66.

The words drum through is head like the Dha Werda in an unending rhythm that does not seem to want to seize. Execute Order 66. Execute Order 66. That's what the Chancellor said, only moments ago when they had received a transmission from Coruscant. Order 66. It couldn't be. But one look at his brothers' - ner vode - faces and he knew that it was not something in his imagination.

The Jedi had betrayed the Republic.

They needed to be killed.

But the seconds fly by as he stands there, trying to reach some uncertain terms with it all. At this point, they're gone – gone back to the ship for further orders. They didn't abandon him, no his brothers would never do that, but the other Omegas knew better than to stay. Because Darman wasn't alone, at least not right now.

"Ner vode," he shouts into the dark and cold night, hoping to hear a response from one of the, but there isn't one. They have gone to – to what? Find Sergeant Kal? Ordo? Kyr'amu? They went, and Darman's alone on purpose, to face the person coming closer in the distance without them. And as he waits, the command rattles in his head.

Execute Order 66.

Ke narir haar'ke'gyce rol'eta resol.

His brothers aren't here and neither is Kal'buir and right now, Darman wishes more than anything one of them were. Because he's not alone and he doesn't know if he can face this – her – alone. She's here now. Her. Cyare. Etain.

Etain the Jedi. No, was. Is. Jedi. Betrayer of the Republic? His Etain? The mother of his child? His riduur? Is that possible?

No, no. He wouldn't believe - Execute Order 66 - it. He can't believe it. Not Etain, never Etain.

She's not in the shadows anymore and it's so cold, even in his black Katarn armor. Cold and dark, but he can see her clearly and it's been so long since the last time he saw her. So many missions and so many close chances. But that's a soldier's life, a Mando's life, a clone's life, his life. Darman has no problem with it. Not until now.

Etain is worried. He can tell by the look in her eyes and the way her hand touches his face in that soft and gentle and concerned way. Worried and afraid, unsure of why they're standing there just now and why he's – is he shaking? And he doesn't like that, not at all. His gloved hand cups hers and holds it in place against his skin. Etain, Etain, Etain.

Ke narir haar'ke'gyce rol'eta resol.

No! No, he can't. This is one order Darman can't find himself willing to follow. At least, not with Etain. She's never betrayed anybody. She gave him a future, his own ad . He's always obeyed orders. But Darman can't kill Etain. Not her, not his riduur.

"Darman, what's wrong?"

It is cold and so he pulls her closer, pressing her body heat against his cool armor. But maybe he also pulls her closer just to hold her. It's been so long since the last time he has had a chance to do this. And he doesn't know how long it will be until the next. But he can't. He loves her as much as his vode, maybe more. Ne'kaysh lise. He can't.

"It's-" Don't die. Execute - no. Promise me you won't die. "You need to go. You're not safe."

"What?"

" Kal'buir. He's here. He'll protect you. Like he's been protecting Aayhan'ika. He has to."

Kal is his buir. The closest thing he or any of his brothers ever knew to one. They're clones, created from Jango Fett's DNA, but Kal'buir raised them, trained them. He encouraged them and helped them grow.

Just like Kal is helping Darman's ad now.

Etain is his riduur . Aayhan is his ad. And Darman can't bear the thought of losing them. It's thoughts like these that get you killed in battle. He can't afford to have those with the Clone Wars so close to an end. Kal has to protect them. And Jusik. Jusik, too. They're not Jedi. They're family.

Not betrayers and not deserving to die. i Kal'buir /i taught them to think for themselves. And Darman will do that; these lives are too important – too jaon'yc - not to.

"Darman," Etain repeats slowly, eyes wide. "What's going on?"

Execute Order 66.

"Just following orders, ma'am." A smile crinkles his face and he cups her chin carefully, tilting her head up to kiss her lips lightly. "Etain."

Ke narir haar'ke'gyce rol'eta resol. Disobey. Don't listen, not now. Ner vode and ner ke'gyce: a Republic commando's life. But he has something else many of them don't have. And Darman refuses to lose either of them.

"Please, Etain?"

She still hasn't given any sign of understanding, but she does give signs of obeying. Jate'yc dala. Always ruusaanyc. He knows this is part of the reason why Sergeant Kal likes her. Why she's family.

She's good.

And never a betrayer.

"Stay safe, Darman," Etain whispers, and gives him one more kiss farewell before disappearing in to the cold, cold night. To Kal'buir . To morut.

His gloved hand touches his lips, savoring their kiss for a second longer. He saved her. She'll be safe – they all will – and Darman can continue with his job, knowing that his family – those that aren't kaysh vode are safe. Sergeant Kal will protect them. Fierfek Order 66 won't harm them.

Safe. Morut.

i Execute Order 66 /i .

A soldier's life was made up of his orders, and Darman can obey now. He can go and join his brothers – Niner, Fi, and Atin – and they can go and weed out the betrayers to the Republic. They can do their job. And the drum beat of the Dha Werda in his head will go away. And Etain will be okay.

She can never betray, never die at the hands of any clone because Kal'buir will protect her. Kal'buir and Ordo and Mereel and the Deltas and the Omegas and whoever it takes. They may all have to kill other Jedi - Ke narir haar'ke'gyce rol'eta resol - those betrayers to the Republic – but not her.

Never Etain.

Never his cyare'ya riduur.

--fin--