A/N: Part four features everyone's favorite Mandalorian merc, Canderous Ordo, and as such, I'm including a quick note on the Mandalorian language used in this chapter. You definitely won't need it to follow the story, so skip it if you like—it's just bonus info.
As Wookieepedia helpfully informs us, KotOR marked the first attempt at developing a Mandalorian language. The implication from the game is that Sasha is using some actual Mandalorian words, but that she's ascribing her own meanings to them. After KotOR, though, came the development by author Karen Traviss of a working Mandalorian language, Mando'a. I've tried to bring both those elements together, along with some facets of Mandalorian culture from post-KotOR canon (such as the commonness of adoptions).
I don't own any of that work, not to mention KotOR or its characters.
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"The Right Stuff" (Canderous)
Dantooine, Ebon Hawk
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Sometimes I wondered where the hell everyone went. Not that I expected them just to sit around on the ship when they weren't with me, but where did five sentients wander off to on a planet where there was nothing to do? And the droid? Did the droid have a hot date or something?
Canderous was the only one around the Ebon Hawk when I stopped in mid-afternoon to drop off a couple of spare weapons I'd picked up off the dead Mandalorians. At first I was worried that might lead to trouble, but all the blasters were generic models and he didn't seem all that interested in my presence anyway. I was on my way back out when I heard a noise and stopped.
And there it was again. Quiet, rapid taps, like the footsteps of a small animal. Was that what had gotten into the food supply? It was coming from the rear of the ship.
Heading that way, I came back across Canderous at the workbench, tinkering with a repeating blaster that took up half the table. Nothing he was doing sounded like tapping. "So that isn't you. Any idea what those noises are?" I asked.
He didn't even turn around. "Investigation isn't really my line of work, and those noises don't sound too dangerous. Just call me if you want something shot."
"Small things can be deadly," I said. "Jawas, for example. They might be short, but you just try playing one in Pazaak."
"Nice try."
So much for getting his help. I couldn't think of an easy way to convince him and in truth I didn't really need him anyway, so I got a good grip on my lightsaber and started creeping around the ship, looking for the source of the noise.
It didn't take long to find, not on a Dynamic-class freighter. We had a little blonde stowaway in the cargo hold. She was speaking a weird mix of Basic, a dialect of Mando'a and a whole lot of words that sounded completely made up, but it all obviously made perfect sense to her. Those impressive linguistic skills of mine didn't do me half as much good with it as gestures and a maddening amount of repetition.
Eventually I managed to establish that her name was Sasha; that she had been staying with Mandalorians, who she felt strongly were bad, bad people; and that her original home was Dantooine but now she liked me and lived on my ship. And she didn't plan on leaving, either.
Let's take a minute to review my partners on this mission. Defrosting Jedi ice princess and angst-ridden star pilot with permastubble? Nothing I could've done about them even if I'd wanted to; they were the ones running this show. Twi'lek street kid? Sure; at least she could handle her own with a blaster. Her Wookiee best friend? Hell, the more the merrier. Uncommunicative droid? At least he didn't take up any rations. Mandalorian ex-hit man? Well…needs must. But a little girl? No way. I was putting my foot down before anyone went bleeding-heart on me and suggested we all raise her collectively as our own.
I managed to convey to her, as gently as I could, that I was going out to look for her home and she should stay there. She didn't like that much but nodded. Halfway to the ramp, I realized I couldn't just leave her alone on the ship—I didn't want her running off, for one thing, and I also didn't want her messing with anything I was gone. Visions of the kid accidentally flying off with the Ebon Hawk danced unsettlingly in my head as I went back to find Canderous.
"Hey, Canderous," I said. "There's a little girl in the cargo hold who speaks some Mando'a. Is she yours?"
He just looked at me. "Did either of you suffer any major injuries while you were speaking with her?"
"Of course not."
"Then she's not mine. If she were my daughter, only one of you would still be standing."
"Oh, come on. She looks like she's all of eight years old, and I didn't threaten her."
"Maybe, but to a true Mandalorian that lightsaber just begs for a challenge."
And this was the guy I was leaving in charge of the kid. I straightened up and gave him an authoritative look. Not that he could see it now that he'd lost interest and gone back to the blaster rifle, but maybe he'd be able to hear the commanding tone in my voice. "I've got a job for you."
He brightened slightly. "What is it?"
"The girl."
Canderous actually turned all the way around and evaluated me seriously with an air that might almost have been respect. "I don't have a problem with it, but I never figured you for the type to put contracts out on eight-year-olds."
I couldn't tell if he was yanking my chain or not. "No, I need you to watch her." I'd better clarify that. "Alive. Unharmed. I need you to keep an eye on her while I find her parents. And don't scare her, either. She's been through a lot."
"You want me to babysit?" he asked, sounding incredulous and maybe insulted. Obviously this was not the kind of thing Mandalorian war heroes did. If a task didn't involve freefalling toward the planet he was about to destroy with only fifteen centimeters of glowing metal between him and an excruciating death, apparently it wasn't worth his attention.
I tried persuasion. "No, no, I need you to—uh, neutralize any threats she might encounter. You're her muscle."
"So what I'm hearing is, you want me to babysit."
Busted. "Please?"
"Forget it. I have more important things to do."
"Name one."
"Staring at the doorway." He shot me a smirk that just dripped with sarcasm. "That way, if any threats do turn up, I'll be the first to know."
I could try to take her off the ship with me. Between the kath hounds and the Mandalorians, it was too dangerous to haul her around the planet by the hand, but if I waited around the Jedi Enclave long enough, I might get lucky and run across Bastila or someone else slightly responsible who could watch her. But I had things to do on Dantooine—kath hound populations to thin out and overappreciated droids to save—and I couldn't afford to waste time cooling my heels. There was no alternative. Canderous was just going to have to suck it up and look after her. And if he wouldn't do it on his own, I was going to have to make him.
"Canderous," I said, and then in Mando'a, "Ne shab'rud'ni." Don't mess with me.
He shot me a sharp, almost startled stare, and I could see the interplay of thoughts on his face. That warning is a dangerous one, a lot more likely to start a fight than preempt one. What I was doing was asserting my authority over him—pulling rank, with "rank" here defined as "ability to beat the snot out of him." If I'd insulted his honor by doing it, there was a good chance that five minutes from now, at least one of us wouldn't have to worry about who watched the girl, or about much of anything else. So far we'd just had a vague partnership, bound by the shared goal of getting off Taris. Did he respect me enough as a warrior to follow my orders? Was the greater honor to be had in striking me down or in joining my fight against the Sith? Those questions were integral to Canderous's identity, and I kept my hand close to my lightsaber, aware that my life might hang in the balance.
How the hell did I know all that, I wondered dimly. I couldn't remember ever even talking with a Mandalorian before I met Canderous. Well, must've just picked it up somewhere. I pushed on.
"You want to come with me, fight the Sith, find honor in battle?" I asked. "Well, honor isn't free. If you're going to stay on this ship, you can't just do the parts of the job you like. And right now I'm asking for your help."
He was still staring me down, eyes narrowed. I started to think about which of his limbs I should try to sever first it if came to a fight. Finally he said, "Fine. Bring her in here. Just remember there's a limit to the number of petty favors I'm willing to do."
I managed to hold off the enormous sigh of relief until I was out of earshot. Sasha was suspicious of where I was taking her, but she was wiling enough to follow me once I gave her my hand. Hers was sticky. What the hell had she been eating from that supply bin?
"Uhh…na abds yooba. Gon-disen," I said, pointing to Canderous. He won't hurt you. I like him, or something like that, hopefully. I pointed to Sasha. "Yooba na palkie bristag." Don't leave the ship. She looked worried. I was running low on vocabulary, so I launched into a complex series of gestures intended to show that I was coming back and that Uncle Candy would watch her until I returned. Uncle Candy managed a smile that looked more like a toothy grimace and emphasized all his scars. I left with profound misgivings. What in the galaxy was I doing?
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As luck would have it, I didn't have to run around asking everyone in a ten-kilometer radius if they knew anything about a human girl who'd been kidnapped by Mandalorians. I was still working my way around the courtyards when I found someone who'd heard someone say there was a Twi'lek somewhere who was looking for some girl on behalf of someone else. Armed with this helpful information, I got recognition out of one of the Jedi (a fellow Jedi, I had to remind myself), who le d me to said Twi'lek's room in the enclave. Descriptions were exchanged, assurances of the girl's current and future safety were given on either side, and I agreed to bring Lur Arka Sulas back to the Ebon Hawk to collect Sasha. The whole thing had taken less than an hour.
"This is it," I told the Twi'lek as we headed up the ramp and into the ship. "Canderous! I found—"
All I heard was blaster fire.
Oh, no.
"Wait here!" I barked at Sulas. Then I readied my lightsaber and dashed forward into the main hold, ready to do battle with the forces of darkness. But I didn't see any. What I saw was Canderous, arms folded as he watched the little girl put blaster holes in an interior wall. The rifle must have weighed half as much as she did.
"Nice work," Canderous was saying thoughtfully in Mando'a. "But your aim is too low. A shot to the extremities might work if you're just trying to scare your target a little first, but you wait too long before going for the kill and he can easily turn the tables on you. A good warrior acts swiftly."
"Canderous, what are you doing?" I demanded.
"Teaching the girl how to shoot a repeating blaster rifle," he replied coolly, as though that ridiculously self-evident answer actually had something to do with what I was really asking, which was why the kriff are you doing it? "She has potential. Her aim's already improving." He gestured to a fist-size pit in the wall, which had definitely not been there an hour earlier.
"Say goodbye to the nice man, Sasha," I said through my teeth. "Laesfa." Home.
Now she really didn't want to leave, but she stopped clinging to Canderous' leg when she saw Sulas; maybe she recognized him, or maybe he just looked different enough from the Mandalorians for her to trust him. After that it only took a few minutes to get her to agree to go. Reluctantly, she hefted the blaster and offered it back to her teacher.
"No," Canderous said with unusual solemnity. "Keep it."
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"Pretty generous, giving the kid your blaster rifle," I commented when they were gone.
He shrugged. "I've got others. It's a shame the Mandalorians here seem to have treated her so badly. In my clan we would have adopted her as one of our own and taught her the ways of the warrior." He eyed me. "Our saying is 'train your sons to be strong, but your daughters to be stronger.'"
"Well, if she wasn't before, she is now." Who'd've thought. I got the sense I was included in that statement about strong daughters, which seemed like a sign of respect from him. For now, at least, the power struggles were done. And with Sasha safely off the ship and therefore our mission completed, the dents in the wall started to look almost decorative. Feeling like extending some goodwill, I stretched and said, "I was on my way somewhere before all this started, actually. I'm off to shoot kath hounds and find droids. You want to come?"
"Not really. You handle the grunt work for a while. I'm going to do some work on another repeating blaster."
"Suit yourself." I checked my lightsaber and my pack and started to make my way out. At the door I stopped and said over my shoulder, "Hey, Canderous? Mandokarla." You've got the right stuff.
"Whatever you say, Jedi," he said gruffly. "Just don't tell anyone."
