Disclaimer: This chapter borrows characters and concepts from Karen Traviss' Republic Commando and Imperial Commando series. Unfortunately, I don't own Walon Vau, Kal Skirata, or any of the Cuy'val Dar. Though, I have to admit, on occasion, I wish I did...
The Knightly Virtues: Courage
In which one of the Cuy'val Dar puts herself in Walon Vau's debt to save a life.
"We must build up dikes of courage, to hold back the flood of fear."
Martin Luther King, Jr.
"Please enlighten us," Priest crossed his arms over his chest and sneered. "The life of a Cuy'val Dar is hard enough, without aruetiise making our lives more difficult."
Ru'buir growled dangerously, deep in her throat, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw her ears flatten against her skull. But, she said nothing - this was my own fight and she could offer nothing more than moral support, by standing at my side.
"I saved a baby from being killed. I hardly see why this has caused such an ungodly stir," I clenched my fists at my side and jutted my chin out defiantly.
"You saved a clone," Reau piped up, her stance distinctly judgmental.
She stood between Priest and Vau. I pointedly ignored the tall, black-armored mass to her left; it was probably just my own paranoia, but I could feel Vau's eyes boring through the dark visor of his buy'ce, into my skull. Of course, my jury of eleven Mandalorians were all staring holes through my head, but I felt the weight of Vau's consideration the most.
I had always felt his calculated gaze, from the moment I arrived in Tipoca City with Ru'buir and I had spotted him observing the landing deck through a passageway window. I had since found that Vau's predatory interest was a hard thing to shake - even if his gaze was real or imagined.
"I do feel congratulations is in store, though," Skirata piped up, his tone mild and slightly amused.
I shifted my attention from Vau, to the short, scrappy fighter who had decided to befriend me - sometimes, I wondered if the choice to do so had been prompted as a response to Vau's sneering superiority. Priest made a rude sort of noise in the back of his throat - it probably didn't surprise anyone present that Skirata would take my side in the current "discussion."
"I didn't think it was actually possible to piss off the aiwha-bait. You've managed to work Orun Wa into a proper fit."
Davin made a noise behind his buy'ce that sounded suspiciously like an aborted chortle. Priest hissed through his teeth, though, and shot Skirata a rather dirty look.
"Yes, and a lot of good that's done!" Reau jumped in again and I fought the urge to grind my teeth; the woman put me on edge every time she opened her mouth. "Now the 'aiwha-bait' - as you call them, Skirata - are screaming at Fett to null our contracts and kick us off-world!"
"Because that would just be an insufferable fate," Gilamar mumbled, just barely loud enough for the rest of us to hear.
"Skirata already put the Kaminoans on edge, by stopping them from reconditioning the Nulls," Reau rounded viciously on Gilamar. "Now someone else," she waved a rather haughty hand in my general direction, without even sparing me a glance. "Has interfered with their business, by rescuing a clone that quite clearly doesn't need to live!"
The "clone that doesn't need to live", squirmed against the birikad slung over my back and made a small mewling sound. Another, louder mewl followed and I realized with a primal instinct, that he was beginning to voice his disapproval of the situation - in other words, he was hungry and a bottle was clearly lacking in his immediate future.
"Udesii," Ru'buir murmured; she reached out a carefully sheathed paw.
I couldn't see what she was doing, but whatever she did calmed the little one down. I could feel the gazes gathered around me seemingly triple in intensity and I knew that now wasn't the time or place to challenge Reau's heartless sentiments.
"Even by Mando'ad standards, he's too damaged to live," her eyes narrowed as she finally turned away from Gilamar.
I clenched my fists, but said nothing. I knew she was baiting me, hoping for a fight. I wouldn't give her the satisfaction. Instead, Skirata did.
"Speak for yourself," he snapped, his patience for the situation clearly coming to its end. "The child deserves to live. I would have done the same, if I had discovered him."
"Yes, because you're a soft-hearted di'kut," Priest sneered.
Skirata shifted the weight on his heels almost instantaneously, but before he could launch himself between Vau and Reau, Vau threw out his black-armored arm and smacked the older man soundly across the chest. Skirata stopped instantly, but his eyes flickered angrily from Vau, to Reau, to Priest, and back again to Vau. Vau, on the other hand, seemed absolutely unconcerned with his arch-adversary's barely controlled fury; he kept his arm across Skirata's chest and calmly turned his head to address Priest.
"So, we do something about it."
The unspoken threat of punishment in his voice sent a shiver down my spine. Tiny feet beat once, twice, against my armor, as the little one strapped to my back continued to fidget. Every little movement only strengthened my resolve - he was a baby. A helpless, crippled baby, who had captured my heart the second I discovered him. I didn't care that he was like a million others. I didn't care that he was disfigured and "imperfect."
I was disfigured and imperfect, too. I wasn't about to hand over a child to his death. Especially not when the value of his life was being measured against the incompetence of his creator.
"I suggest you hand over the reject," Priest promptly held out his hand, palm up. "So we can hand him back to the Kaminoans and this osik can stop rolling downhill. Fett's not happy with you and I think it's fair to say we'd all rather keep our employers happy."
"Speak for yourself," Skirata muttered again, as he roughly shoved Vau's arm away from him.
"If Fett's not happy with me, he can come down from his solitary isolation and tell me himself," I drew myself up to my full height, even though my left foot protested silently at the subtle shift in weight.
"Fett told us to take care of this ourselves," Apma's quiet voice filled the sudden silence. "He's not on-world to deal with this."
"Hand it over," Priest persisted; he curled his fingers at me, as if beckoning me like a dog.
The superiority play was sickening enough, but what did my patience in was his use of "it." I clenched my firsts so hard, I felt my carefully trimmed nails biting into the meaty part of my palm.
"I'd sooner fight you," I hissed and leaned forward just far enough to spit into Priest's outstretched hand.
His face turned a brilliant shade of crimson and he looked practically apoplectic. For several seconds, he sputtered, in an attempt to form words, but Walon Vau beat him smoothly to the punch.
"An excellent idea," he slowly crossed his arms over the broad width of his armored chest.
His voice was a rich purr and in a flash of awful insight, I sensed what was coming next.
"I'll do the honors, if you don't mind, Priest."
"She insulted me -" he started, but Vau cut him off; I could feel the weight of Vau's strange, golden-colored eyes and I suddenly regretted my demonstration of spirited verve.
"I said, I'll fight her, Priest."
There was no room for argument in Vau's toneless voice. Then again, only an idiot would challenge Vau. Priest was a heartless sociopath, but he wasn't an idiot. His jaw worked furiously for a second or two, as if he was considering an argument, but then he looked at Reau and grudgingly kept his peace.
"Do you know anything about a Battle Circle, Par'jain?" Vau turned his attention toward me and I felt my courage falter.
"No," I admitted reluctantly.
I fought the urge to look at Ru'buir for support. My fate was rapidly being decided without any room at all for my consent and I could feel a healthy amount of fear curl around my heart.
I was just barely Mandalorian. I had followed the ways of the Resol'nare and taken up my armor just a mere six months before; Ru'buir had taught me a lot in those short months, but that wasn't near enough time to teach me the necessary skills to take on the likes of Walon Vau. I doubted six years would be enough.
"Well," Vau paused, before delivering his verdict without an ounce of human emotion. "You're about to find out."
"I can't believe this!" Skirata paced back and forth across the breadth of the small common room.
The gathering of Cuy'val Dar jurors had dispersed, after Vau had declared himself my judge. His verdict left no room for repeal, either. My only recourse was to fight him.
And, inevitably, to be humiliated.
I knew I wasn't going to win. It was realistically impossible. Never mind that I had gout and that I'd been having almost constant flare-ups since coming to this miserable, water-logged world with Ru'buir. I knew only the barest basics of hand-to-hand, was only marginally proficient with a rifle or a blaster, and the only thing I knew to do with blades was how to forge them.
Unfortunately, the only hope I had was with a blade of some sort. I had studied fencing as a young woman, before the onset of my gout in the earlier years of my twenties. I had been more than proficient with both a foil and a saber - in my youth, at the University, I had won a rather impressive number of awards for my skill.
But, that was nearly eight years ago. I hadn't picked up a foil since the diagnosis of my gout and bladed skills were perishable.
I had an hour, until I met Vau in a Battle Circle, with weapons of his choosing. My stomach knotted painfully at the very thought; Skirata's incessant pacing to and fro wasn't helping my anxiety levels, either.
"If someone doesn't beat me to it, I'm going to kill Vau one of these days," he paused his pacing long enough to stare out of the window and snarl at the rain.
I idly wondered how often Skirata had sworn such, in his years of knowing Walon Vau. I didn't know much about the two men, but the adversarial relationship between them was hard to miss. I had discovered, from a few well-placed questions, that the two men had known each other for a long time. And had practically hated each other from the very start.
To distract myself, I glanced down at the baby in my arms. The side of his little mouth was twisted, his left eye drooped, and he had a clubbed foot - a part of me was frankly amazed that Wa had allowed him to live this long, with such obvious deformities. It seemed just further proof of the Kaminoan's inability to feel basic sentient emotions.
He cared so little about the lives he created, that he couldn't be bothered to check their progresses once he'd encased their cells in a growth tank. He let nature take over and only after they'd taken on life and form, did he bother to check the efficiency of his handiwork.
They were just experiments to him. And, to date, failed experiments, at that. The Nulls were practically normal children - at least, so far as their inability to follow orders. The Alpha "batch" wasn't much different, except that it seemed their independence increased with their maturity.
Both, failures for their independence and individuality. Otherwise, though, they were healthy and whole.
This little boy, however, suffered the most for Orun Wa's short-comings.
He was the prototype for a new "batch" of clones - the CT "series". And he was Orun Wa's 99th attempt for a "perfect template."
I watched as the baby sucked enthusiastically at the bottle I held steady in my hand. His dark eyes watched me with interest and intelligence and in this respect, he seemed no different than my little brother, once upon a time. There were vast differences between him and my brother, though - most importantly of which, was the fact that he was practically a newborn and already as large and biologically advanced as a six-month old.
Wa had miscalculated whatever determined a clone's accelerated aging. Before taking him away from Wa's calloused care, I had been promptly informed that the little one's aging would take place at nearly seven times the rate of other clones.
He would live the span of his life in a projected 15 years or less.
It was at that moment that my heart had broken on his behalf. Ru'buir had renamed me "Shereshoy" upon my adoption - the name meant "lust for life". I had painted my shiny-new beskar'gum orange, to reflect my name and the Mandalorian ideal I had taken to heart.
My lust for life extended beyond my own and I wanted to share that lust with the little one in my arms. He would barely have a life; I knew what it was like, now, to live deformed and broken. To add cruelty to injustice, a mere miscalculation had shortened his lifespan. If I could share my lust of life with him, then perhaps it would give him something. I couldn't give him normalcy. I couldn't change the circumstances that had brought him into the world.
But, I could teach him kindness, and wisdom, and what little joy I could. I could teach him about what truly made a man.
I could teach him to face his fate with courage.
I kissed him gently on the forehead and he stared at me with wide, sentient eyes.
He had the eyes of what my grandmother would have called "an old soul". No Kaminoan engineering could give him that. That was his - his spark of sentience. His spark of individuality.
I would teach him to hold it sacred to his heart. I would show him how to share it with others.
"Vau will beat you bloody," Skirata pulled me out of my baby-centered thoughts and back into the harsh reality that the chrono ticked away minute by minute.
I lifted my head and looked up at the stocky Mandalorian. I shrugged and tried to play it off the grim truth of his words with a casual shrug.
"K'atini," I said, "it's only pain".
I looked down at the child in my eyes, as if to hide the truth of what I felt from Skirata. He seemed to know, anyway, that I was merely trying to bluff my way out the pressure of his scrutiny. He sighed heavily, put a hand on my shoulder, and squeezed gently.
"Is he worth it?" he asked softly.
I couldn't be angry at him for asking - I knew he didn't mean it to be condescending or self-righteous. It was a fair question.
I searched for my answer in the twisted little face that stared up at me. In the background, I could hear Ru'buir muttering to herself as she rummaged through something - I knew it was her way of dealing with the stress of having her first adopted daughter go up in a fight she wasn't prepared to win.
Was he worth it? I cradled the wee one in my arms and slowly nodded.
Any life was "worth it." Every sentient had a right to a life of their own - the slave block had taught me that.
Life. Freedom. Dignity.
They were always worth fighting for.
Vau surprised me by stepping up into my space and bending down slightly to whisper into my ear, before I slipped my buy'ce on.
"I'll give you an out," his dark voice purred against my skin; I quivered under the touch of his breath. "I've seen you limping the last few days. You can save yourself a lot of pain, by just handing him over."
I turned my head slightly to look at him and my lips nearly brushed his smooth-shaven cheek. My nose flared slightly as I breathed in his powerful scent of sweat, soap, metal, and strill. His odious, six-legged pet's odor nearly overwhelmed the senses, but I could pick out a musky undertone that had nothing to do with the strill drooling next to his feet. I wondered absently what Vau would smell like freshly scrubbed and away from "Lord Mirdalan". The idea of Vau freshly scrubbed lead to a few other interesting thoughts...
I cleared my throat nervously and forced myself to meet his gaze. This wasn't the time to follow mental bunny trails into the red-light district of la-la land, even if they did help me avoid the grim reality of the situation at hand.
Thankfully, Vau's impressive set of skills didn't include mind-reading. He was watching me, his body perfectly still, like a hunter waiting patiently on his prey. I thought it a bit peculiar that he was offering me an out - it was almost as if he were testing me.
Suddenly, I wasn't so sure that the end point of this exercise was merely public humiliation.
"He is too small to fight for what's his by right of sentience. So, I'll fight for him," I paused and I could tell that Vau was silently weighing the conviction of my words. "It's the right thing to do," I added, softly.
"So, you'll let yourself be humiliated for the sake of a single fabricated human?" his golden-green eyes narrowed, but it was an expression of guarded surprise, not contempt.
"He's still human," I murmured, my lips barely brushing against his skin.
Vau pulled back suddenly and straightened into his full, towering height. I was taller than Skirata and Vau was still a good head taller than me.
"Even among the Mando'ad, there's a distinction made between courage and foolishness," he said in a normal, almost conversational tone of voice.
I saw the ring of bystanders shift slightly as Vau backed away from me and pulled his gloves out of his belt. I gritted my teeth and risked a glance toward my left, where Ru'buir cradled the little one in her arms. My cultured Aldeeranian sensibilities didn't like the idea of bringing a child to a fight, but his presence had been specifically demanded.
His fate would be settled here. I could only hope that by some Force-given beginner's luck, that I could prevail.
Movement to my right caught my eye and I watched as Tay'haai took center stage. He had his helmet hooked to his belt - as did all of the bystanders - and that reminded me that it was probably time to put on my own.
"Rules of Engagement are as follows," Tay'haai put his hands behind his back and rocked a little on his heels as he glanced from me to Vau. "No deathblows are permitted. Neither combatant is allowed to leave the Battle Circle. The only weapons allowed are those designated by the combatant with the most honor. For today's Battle Circle, challenging of the champion will not be permitted.
"Sergeant Walon Vau," the younger Cuy'val Dar nodded deferentially toward Vau. "Choose your weapons."
"Beskad," was the almost instantaneous reply.
I felt my stomach plummet, but thankfully, I had just secured my buy'ce in place. No one would see my private grimace.
The beskad were heavy - a far cry from the elegant foils I had wielded as a child. I had surprisingly good upper-body strength, because of my work as a blacksmith. But, my foot was swollen with gout and I limped, despite everything I did to hide it. I could fight around the pain for a little bit, but Vau would wear me down quickly. I couldn't really move - and he knew it.
He was going to use my weakness against me.
I glanced at Ru'buir one last time, as Tay'haai ordered everyone back against the wall of the conveniently rounded room. I looked at the baby sleeping peacefully in her arms, to remind myself of why I was doing this.
Someone had to stand up for him.
I turned back to Vau and bit back a sigh.
This was going to hurt.
I discovered a whole new level of pain, as I fell face-first against the rough duracrete floor. Vau followed me down and his heavy weight nearly crushed me flat. I gasped against the knee that he pressed cruelly against my lower back, between the pieces of my back plates.
He'd dislocated my arm and I had to bite down hard on my lip to keep from screaming, when he settled his other knee against my shoulder. The full weight of his body pinned me to the floor, but I still would have struggled, if he hadn't exchanged his beskad for a knife, which he now pressed firmly underneath my buy'ce, against my pulsing jugular.
My armor had protected me against the very worst of his iron onslaught, but the biting edge of his beskad had drawn enough lines into my flesh to stain the floor under our feet. He'd dislocated my arm, brought the heel of his boot down onto my swollen foot, rammed the hilt of my own beskad into my stomach, snapped my neck back with a well-placed backhand, and kicked my feet out from under me.
And he was barely breathing heavy.
I was gasping for air, more as means to control my urge to scream from the pain throbbing sharply through my foot and leg, than for any other reason. I'd been holding my own rather decently, until Vau had decided to play dirty and stomp all over my weakness. I felt played and cheated - I would have taken off my helmet and my gloves and fought him literally tooth and nail, if I could.
I was angry. Pain nearly rendered me blind, but I was furious. I still wanted to fight back.
But, Vau had me where he wanted me. The cold edge of his knife tickled my throat and I tasted blood against my tongue, from where I had bitten through my lip.
"So, tell me," his deep voice filled the sanctuary of my helmet.
He'd decided to talk to me on a private line, which I thought was a little odd. If he wanted to taunt me, now was the time to do it, when he had an rapt audience.
"Was it worth it?"
"Yes," I hissed, without even pausing for a thought.
"Even if he dies?" Vau sounded faintly amused; I hated him all the more, for it.
"At least now he dies with some amount of honor," I fought the urge to squirm; one move and Vau's strategically placed blade would cut neatly through my artery.
For several long seconds, he was silent. It almost seemed as if he was thinking something over. Finally, he removed his knife from my throat and replaced it with his hand. His long, thick fingers grasped tightly against the back of my neck and held my head firmly against the floor in a classic demonstration of dominance.
"I believe the whole purpose to this Battle Circle, was to determine the fate of the clone baby you took from Orun Wa," Vau spoke more loudly this time and I didn't even have to consult my HUD, to know that he had switched to a public audio feed.
I could only see the feet directly across from me and those were standing perfectly still. The boots were covered by armor plates painted a sandy-gold. Skirata, then.
I finally closed my eyes against my pain. I'd done everything I could.
"Winner gets to decide," his fingers tightened slightly against my throat and his knees dug hard against my body. "Since I'm the one on top, I'd say that's me."
Usually, I would have made some smart, scathing comment about the one "on top", but I held my tongue in check. I was in enough pain as it was - at this point, getting hurt further wasn't going to change the inevitable.
My heart sank.
"The brat lives."
A low murmur of surprise buzzed around the room and the feet in front of me shifted, as if Skirata had suddenly shifted his weight. I blinked and it took several stunned seconds for what Vau was saying, to sink in.
The pressure of his weight eased almost instantly as he let go of my neck and stood up. He loomed over me for a minute and I managed to struggle onto my elbows. I lifted my head and twisted my neck around to look up and over my shoulder.
He straddled my prone, broken body, his hands held causally at his side. His entire posture screamed "victor" and he was arrogant in his display of indifferent superiority. I growled and started struggling between his feet. I wasn't going to let him stand over me with his overinflated ego, like some sort of plantation overlord.
Surprisingly, he got the hint and finished stepping over me.
"There's one condition," Vau suddenly bent his knees and rested his elbows against his thighs as he brought his voice down to my level. "He's your sole responsibility. Find some use for him."
I had absolutely no idea what "use" I could find for a disfigured clone, but I wasn't about to admit that.
"Deal," I managed to push myself onto my back and into some semblance of a sitting position.
Vau suddenly switched to a private channel again and grabbed my good arm. He roughly hauled me to my feet; I accidentally put weight on my bad leg and I yelped as pain shot through every single nerve in my body. I stumbled and fell against Vau, my hands scrabbling for purchase against his chest plate.
His hand on my arm tightened and he held me firmly against me when I tried to pull away.
"You owe me," he said threateningly; I stopped struggling and stiffened immediately under his hand.
I nearly replied, but I bit my tongue. I'd won a small victory - I wouldn't sacrifice it by losing my temper.
"That clone lives because I decided he could. Don't forget that."
He let go of me suddenly and I wobbled dangerously on my one good leg. I would have fallen, but Skirata shouldered his way roughly past Vau and grabbed me around the waist. He let me settle my weight against his chest, and both Gilamar and Ru'buir appeared at Skirata's side. Helping hands reached out to guide me toward the door.
I glanced at Vau over my shoulder, as my little huddle steered me toward the exit.
"Let's get you to medical," Gilamar murmured, but I didn't really hear him.
If I was in Vau's debt, it was a small price to pay. The pain and the blood was an even smaller price, in comparison.
I'd won an infant's chance at life. Perhaps, in the grand scheme of the galaxy, it was a minuscule thing - a infinitesimal gesture.
But, honor was the watchword of the Par'jain clan. My beloved father, so many years before, had taught me to treat all sentient life with dignity and respect. I had taken shereshoy - lust for life - upon myself as my own personal virtue.
I had paid a small price. And I didn't care what Walon Vau thought. He might think he was playing a game of his own scheming, but I'd won.
99 would live.
And I would teach him courage.
