Gra'tua Cuun Hett Su Dralshy'a
Chapter 2: A New Hunt
"Udesii, udesii, ad'ika. That's enough for today."
Yusani blocked the last barrage of vicious slashes directed at her trying to look like it wasn't a big deal. But Aran picked up on the slightly ragged breath her mother tried to reign under control without it showing on the outside. Her voice processor was of good quality and it was simple enough to discern the difference between easy breathing and forcibly controlled calmness accurately, a perk of living with people wearing helmets nine out of ten times.
Aran sheathed her blade and held her arm out for her mother to hold in the Mandalorian handshake. Yusani accepted gracefully, putting her own weapon away in the process.
"Good footwork, but your technique could be more refined", she suggested with a nod." You leave yourself too open. It makes it easy for an enemy to either disarm you or even go for your chest."
Aran grimaced. So buir had noticed.
"Will do. What about the shoulder tackle?" It had seemed like a good idea to bodycheck her mother in the heat of the moment, to throw her off-guard, but Aran had come dangerously close to her opponent. Had it been worth the risk? It might've been too much, in light of her mother's well-meant criticism.
"My, you surprised me there, hotshot! I recon it could've gone both ways, though. A real enemy might've reacted fast enough and clipped you instead of being dazed by the tackle."
"So no close-quarters combat?"
Yusani clapped Aran's shoulder and motioned for her to follow.
"I didn't say that. I believe it might be a good surprise attack to break your opponent's roots when he least expects it, say, when he has the upper hand in a duel. But you have to be really sure of yourself and your abilities to pull it off accordingly, ad'ika."
The surrounding evergreen trees rustled mysteriously in the wind, their peaks jabbing into the star-spangled night sky like snow-glazed spears.
Aran looked to the ground, where her armored boots sank into the snow with every step. Shortly after they had started their training session it had started snowing again, and the additional powdery white substance made it hard to judge the depth of the already fallen snow.
"I'll keep it in mind. Vor'e, buir."
She sidestepped a suspicious dent in the snow, only sparing the potentially fallacious sinkhole a sidelong glance.
Hm, she seemingly needed to focus on her defense. A good defense was irreplaceable for the fighter specializing in sword combat. Well, another option would be to trust entirely on her offense. A good offense is the best defense, as the saying goes.
Whatever she should choose, combat practice was going to be cranked up by a good chunk. The movements had to become second nature. There simply was no time to think about her course of action in combat.
They trudged through camp, slowly making their way towards the central tent, a place of organization, sportive leisure time and companionship alike.
The sun had finally gone down, and darkness descended upon the campsite. Nobody had any need for lighting; There was no individual around that didn't possess a night vision option for their integrated HUD. Some of their non-human companions even had the advantage of natural night vision.
When Aran focused on the tent, she noticed the slight flicker of flames emanating from the gap between the tent and the door flap.
The stew had to be kept warm, but did they really need a flame as bright and big as this? What had happened to their focus on stealth? There surely wasn't someone who dared start a confrontation with the dozens of Mando'ade from their camp on this backwater snow ball, but the principle was still to be upheld.
"Seems like something happened, eh?", her mother remarked. Aran only grunted noncomittally. Whatever it was, they weren't going to stand by idly.
She led the way and held open the door flap for Aran. When they had entered, she was provided with an image she couldn't have foreseen.
The tent was full of armoured individuals, most of them huddled around the current Mand'alor Jango Fett, who hovered close to the fire. Despite the relative silence -only the alor and the two closest to him seemed to be in deep discussion, while the rest listened- Aran could feel the heavy pressure in the air. Something was not right.
Why was the alor even back in camp? The contract had not been fulfilled as of yet, and Jango Fett had insisted on handling the closing part himself. Unless there had been a fairly surprising breakthrough - not entirely impossible, she reckoned - he shouldn't be here right now.
A click in their comlinks. "Ah, good to see you here."
Uvai had appeared from the mass of people and nodded his helmeted head at them.
"What happened? Is the contract fulfilled?", Aran inquired, restlessly shifting aside, when her mother moved further into the room.
"The short version", Uvai started, almost whispering, "Goes as follows: The alor and his troop got back early this time to discuss something important with us."
Aran tipped her head to one side like an inquisitive akk pup. "They apparently delayed the contract for it, it's gotta be really important."
Uvai led them further to the front. They stopped just three meters short of Myles, a young human male with an ice blue paint job on his armour, Jango Fett's second in command.
She bumped into a Mando's arm, so Aran turned and nodded her head in silent apology. The stocky human male in bronze armour, Sundavar, Aran recalled, nodded back, focusing back on the discussion in front of him shortly after.
Uvai continued, oblivious to the little exchange. "I don't know what this all is about, but I believe to have overheard the word Viszla."
Aran felt her mother stiffen. She inconspicuously took her hand and squeezed. It wouldn't do good if Yusani stormed to their leader and demanded details.
"Udesii. Just listen", she suggested, moving aside to make room for her.
When she was sure buir's attention was focused on the people speaking, Aran allowed herself to relax slightly.
The thirst for payback against Tor Viszla and her ex-husband Maast hadn't let off over time. Given the Kyr'tsad's murder of former Mand'alor Jaster Mereel, most True Mandalorians would love to get their hands on one of the heads of the vicious splinter group. But Yusani was burning for a chance to exact her very own personal vengeance on a certain chakaar who had blown apart her life with his treacherous ideas.
Aran wasn't sure about her own motivation to destroy the group that had sent their people into civil war. A mix of Yusani and any other righteous Mando'ad's motivation, she guessed.
She couldn't really hate the man who had sired her; not as much as her mother, anyway. She had simply been too young to remember, too young for the hot vengeance to bubble up every time the name "Viszla" fell without her mother or her in context. She just felt kind of indifferent.
Yusani audibly ground her teeth. The feedback resounding in her earpiece made Aran wince. "If they managed to track down that gutless chakaar I will be the one to greet him. Wanted to introduce the rusty part of my trusty beskad to his stinking guts for a long time..."
"Udesii, buir." If they had really rooted out that bunch of cowards, would the alor even let them be part of the hunt? Convincing Yusani to stand down and observe from the sidelines wouldn't be easy… if possible at all. She wouldn't let herself be denied revenge she felt was in dire need.
Just as her internal trouble of figuring out how to slip a sedative into her mother's food to keep her from endangering someone in her blind rage ended up at a dead end, the alor scratched the back of his head, shuffling the unruly black hair out of the way, and addressed the entirety of Mando'ade present with a simple, "We've found them."
It's all he had to say to make an entire tent jam-packed with hardened warriors go from attentive silence to tense stillness.
Aran let her gaze wander through the rows of armoured individuals.
She spotted too many clenched fists to call the sudden tension in the air mere imagination.
"We've found Death Watch." Fett now turned towards them, buy'ce tucked under his left arm. "We've found them and now we will end them." His statement had more of a strill's growl than Aran would like to think about. It spoke of unprecedented violence.
The alor had known Jaster Mereel personally, had practically been raised by him as if he was Mereel's son, even though they had never officially recited the traditional vow of adoption.
Jaster Mereel's death had ripped a hole in the True Mandalorians' heart, but Fett must've been hit the hardest by his mentor's violent passing.
He was going to do anything it took to prevent the miserable hut'uune responsible for Mereel's death and the current crisis of Mandalore from gaining any more power. No Mando in his right mind doubted that.
One of the men present, the Mando'ad Aran had accidentally bumped into earlier, broke the strained silence and spoke up.
"I take it you have a plan, then?"
Fett grinned darkly, his eyes glistening with stubborn determination and the promise of imminent fiery vengeance.
Instead of answering the question, he indicated his lieutenant Myles. The young man stepped forward, nodding at Sundavar before answering, "We'll send an advance party to check the intel. When it's confirmed it's really the Kyr'tsad, the rest will follow and we will burn out the nest of hut'uun'la scum." Myles' voice was level, calm even, but he visibly tensed up at the mention of their arch nemesis' call sign, cracking his knuckles and gripping his ice-blue helmet tightly.
"We should act immediately, then." Sundavar apparently spoke the mind of many others with that statement. A lot of heads nodded curtly in approval of his urgency.
There was no time to be wasted.
If they'd really found the Death Watch, it was only a matter of days before they relocated and their trail went cold again. The Kyr'tsad employed similar tactics and embraced the nomadic life style the True Mandalorians had almost uniformly adopted through Mereel's redefinition of the Resol'nare. And they were similarly good at hiding their trails.
"I'm quite aware of the urgency of the situation", the alor interjected, his voice still bearing remnants of the barely restrained wrath from before.
Aran frowned. Fett usually was better at concealing his true feelings. Perhaps it was too emotional a matter for him to keep everything locked away, especially when he was among his people.
"It's incredibly important to keep a cool head when dealing with these shabla hut'uune, and not all of us are capable of that."
His dark gaze lingered on Yusani and Aran. It was only a second, miss if you blink, but Aran spotted it. And it was okay. They were high risk to any mission aiming to destroy their foes once and for all. She was still too inexperienced to be trusted with one of the most important, if not the most important missions in recent times, and her mother… Well, buir was a whole 'nother story.
"That's why we've already decided on who is to go. Sundavar, you take Ularane, Gareth, Daala, Seiba, Si'nube and the group around Tayari to the Carlac system."
Said man nodded his understanding, his hand already intertwined with his wife's. Ularane's light-furred strill scurried around their legs like an overly excited akk-pup, leaving a wet trail of viscuous drool in its wake, and the nearest men took two steps back to get out of the little hover-bulldozer's range.
Not many Mandos in their immediate vicinity had kept their helmets in their hands after the furry killing-machine had rushed into the tent to its partner's side. Aran had often enough heard the complaints of the male members of their group about the predator. Apparently it was supposed to have quite the strong odor, but she had never found the strill's natural smell as vile as the men made it out to be. In fact, she didn't remember any female of their camp ever complaining about it. Maybe females perceived something about the strill's body odor differently than their male counterparts, some hormones or something like it.
Sundavar let go of Ularane's green-covered hand and stepped forward, receiving the small flashdrive Myles had retrieved from one of the many pouches on his hip.
"Myles will brief you on the details." Fett grabbed Sundavar's arm in the traditional handshake and recited evenly, "Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur."
Sundavar hesitated for a moment, and Aran wondered what went through their minds behind those dark, somber eyes. The moment was lost, however, when Sundavar squeezed back, a determined look on his sun-tanned face. "I won't let you down, alor." It was stated firmly, with so much fierce determination behind it that Aran didn't doubt the man for a single second.
Fett nodded once and released the handshake, his mouth a thin line.
Ularane turned towards the small squad. "Now let's get those filthy chakaare." She then raised her fist in the air, exclaiming, "Oya!", earning a uniform, resounding "Huah, Oya!" in return. The word triggered the strill's hunting instinct and it shot out of the tent.
Myles left without another word, Sundavar and Ularane hot on his tail. The chosen men and women followed them out of the tent, presumably heading towards the ships.
As soon as the strill had crossed the threshold, most of the remaining men seemed to sigh in relief.
Only her buir was as tense as ever. She was obviously not happy to be excluded from the mission, but she understood why she wouldn't be part of it as good as Aran did. She was an experienced warrior, and she knew of the importance of remaining calm when dealing with dangerous opponents like the Death Watch. She'd get her chance, sooner or later.
Aran glanced in the direction of the tent exit.
The wind outside was gaining momentum. Snowflakes whirled through the gaps of the heavy leather tent flaps, and the cold breeze made the camp fire flames flicker and spark.
At least Ularane is finally getting that hunt with her husband she longed for.
The alor proceeded to educate them on the further course of their operations, now that they were finished on Vinuu Four.
Sundavar and his crew were to go to the Carlac system and check the intel they had gotten from a source Fett didn't share with them, then report back what they had found and finally join them at their new location.
The rest of them were going to relocate to the Thanium sector and deal with a bunch of pesky insurgents on -who would've guessed it- another ball of endless snow and mind-numbing, white landscapes.
Aran wasn't especially thrilled at the prospect of staying on yet another ice planet, but as far as she had understood they were all going to be directly involved with getting rid of the troublemakers. Experience and maybe some cash for my beskad-fund. A win-win situation.
What actually surprised her was the contractor. They had apparently been specifically employed by the planet's governour, because they were quote, "Quite efficient".
Yeah, understatement. If Jango Fett's Mandalorians were hired to do something, it was done right and thorough.
They were going to get done with the insurgents, collect their paycheck and gather up to take out Death Watch, their year-long nemesis, all in the span of approximately two to three weeks.
What a great way to start the new standard year.
Author's Note:
Well well, here's the second chapter (after a long time, I know, I know. And I'm terribly sorry to have kept you waiting. But I'll be updating more often now that I've survived the semester).
I hope you are still in for more, even though there's not too much action in this short chapter.
Ret'!