Ord Signant Spaceport City Apartment Complex A-3, two days later

Ord Signant Spaceport City was a rough, out of the way place with few notable features besides an agrocite mining facility. Agrocite was a rare mineral that was found on only three worlds in the entire galaxy, and had some importance to the War that Echo didn't care about. As long as the agrocite wasn't going to the Republic or the Seppies, Echo didn't care about it. All he cared about right now was settling his new home, then getting a good transport.

And he wanted to learn Mando'a. He wanted to go to Mandalore.

Echo stared out the thick transparisteel glass of his apartment, polishing the new coat of blue-and-black Mandalorian armor, beskar'gam that he had bought from a small armor-and-weapons on the outskirts of Spaceport City along with a Merr-Sonn DD6-blaster pistol and a small pack of flash-bangs. He had paid well to make sure no record of his buying the weapons and armor would be on record, then bought two cans of paint, dark blue and black that he had used to paint his new suit of Mandalorian armor, very similar to his ARC suit which was now stashed away in a small chest under his couch, covered by a tarp. He had kept his kama, though. It went well with his beskar.

Echo finished polishing the armor and began to fit it on himself, attaching each plate onto his black bodysuit. It felt much heavier than the white plastoid plates of his Republic-issue armor, and Echo thought it was probably because of the fact that it was made of real Mandalorian iron.

He finished quickly, then strapped the leather belt-spat to his waist. He looked around for his... what did the Mandalorians call it? Buy'ce? Yes, buy'ce, his helmet.

He picked it up from the low wooden table he had set it on and placed it on his head.

Bright lights, flashing colors, and whirring sounds greeted him as soon as he rested it on his head, and he let out a surprised hiss. Echo had figured that the new armor would be somewhat different than his ARC trooper kit, but this was so much more...

Sophisticated? Echo supposed that was the right word for it, but it would take some getting used to. A lot of getting used to. Besides the slightly familiar features of the 360 degree sight, the zoom in/out controls and comlink, the rest of the helmet and especially the HUD, the Heads Up Display, was foreign to him, but Echo was determined to get used to it.

He fumbled around the small living room he was in, knocking his head on the ceiling multiple times as he looked for his datapad. After a few moments of searching, he found it resting on the same table he found his helmet on.

Shab, I need to get my memory straightened out.

Since the explosion at the Citadel, Echo had been having what the med droids would call short term memory loss. He could remember past details perfectly fine, such as the Rishi Moon Incident or the Third Battle of Kamino, but he was hard pressed recalling things he had done in the past few minutes, such as setting down his 'pad or helmet. It was frustrating.

And the fact that he had lost his left hand in the explosion from a piece of shrapnel. That was annoying too, even though he had gotten himself a replacement.

Echo pulled up a Galactic Institute of Anthropology HoloNet page and began to read up on Mando'a, the traditional langauge of Mandalore. As soon as he tapped on the 'Begin HN Tutorial' icon, though, he was surprised by a hologram of some sort of humanoid droid popping up on the holoprojector.

"Hello, new language learner! I am Tutor droid RT-003293783, your teacher for learning the language of Mando'a within twenty rotations! Please, access the 'Begin Learning icon on your screen."

Echo rolled his eyes, sighing. He had seen these kinds of programs before, and he had even used a flash-learning style to teach himself Hutsse for a mission to Nal Hutta. But they were time consuming and boring. Echo sighed and clicked the icon.

After at least three hours of hearing RT-003293783 drone on and on about adjectives and nouns and intensive and reflexive something-or-others, Echo was done with his course on Mando'a for the next six days. Each course was thirty minutes, and three hours on the 'pad equaled six days. He calculated that if he could do three hours each day, he'd have it done somewhere around four days from now. But at least he could hold a decent, albeit short, conversation with someone else speaking Mando'a.

"Shabla beskar'ad," Echo grumbled, shutting down his datapad. "An sheb, nayc mirshe."

Well, Echo could insult the droid, now, and the thing could only be proud of him for being able to do so.

His stomach rumbled, and Echo's fingers went into the leather pouches on his belt and he fished out some credit chips. There was a diner on the edge of the city called the Outskirt's Inn that he wanted to check out. He had smelled the greasy but delicious food coming from the open entrance, and his taste buds were practically dying to taste whatever food was there.

Standing, Echo pulled on the buy'ce he had taken off sometime during the Mando'a course and slipped it on, adjusting to the HUD. He accessed a map of the city and routed it to his helmet. He stood up, slipped his DD6 into his belt, and left the apartment.

Echo walked conspicuously through the city, trying to be less noticeable. On Coruscant, a Mandalorian was a bit more commonplace, but here in the middle of nowhere it stood out like a bantha in a starship. Echo ignored the gasps and whispered grumbling as he pushed through the throng of people towards the outer edges of Spaceport City. Mandalorians had a reputation for being knuckle-dragging barbarians with no code of honor, and only cared for credits, and putting on the armor was an invitation to harassment. Of course, Echo thought, no one would dare to walk up to a Mando'ad, a Mandalorian, and tell him he was a savage. But behind their back, they were open to all kinds of talk.

The Outskirts Inn was basically the same as any of the other bland gray stone buildings in Spaceport City, except that it was longer and had a flashing green sign hanging above the entrance. It seemed respectable enough compared to the other bars he had seen as he had walked through the city, so he ducked inside.

It was respectable. More so than Echo had expected. There were some Twi'lek and Togruta singers and dancers, but that was the closest it got to sleazy. It reminded Echo slightly of the Coruscant Security Force diner the Kragget or 79, a cantina that had opened for clones stationed on Coruscant just before the Citadel mission. He had been there once, with Fives and Commander Cody.

Echo pushed past a drunken Sinateen and a Weequay and slid into a seat on the counter, causing the human sitting next to him to get up and move. Under his helmet, he smirked. This Mando thing was going to get him a lot of personal space, unless someone wasn't afraid of Mandalorians.

A middle-aged grizzled man with graying hair limped up to Echo from behind the counter.

"Whadya want to order?" he asked gruffly, squinting. "We got some Mandalorian-style fish and ale..."

"Nerf stake, ner'vod," Echo replied, placing to untraceable cred chips in front of the tavernkeep. "Small sized, well done."

The man nodded and set a pint of brown Correlian ale in a flagon in front of him. Echo took off his helmet to begin sipping his drink. It was good. Really good. Echo decided that he would be a regular here. In fact, he decided that he would stay in Spaceport City a while. Until he got a transport to Mandalore.

Then he'd be a real Mando'ad.