Sad Things, Made Bright
By Rey

Chapter 7: Chafing Complications, Again

20th December 1988

17.

At present, Jango felt vindicated that his old paranoia was, after all, had not been an empty fear and caution mixed into one. His companions had joked about him creating three sets of identities to use on this backwater planet alone, a different identity for each visit, which had ended up on different parts of Earth. But now, contrary to their belief that he didn't even need one, he was making use of two of his identities already in just a single visit, in less than half a galactic standard month.

He was fond of this quaint, land-bound vehicle Earthlings called a "jeep," that was why. It was his, and he had earned it honestly for once, so he wasn't about to let go of it without a fight, even though he might be recognised driving it. He'd be a laughing stock in the rest of the galaxy if he was ever caught driving such primitive contraption, especially if they knew how zealously he'd been trying to keep it, but he didn't care. He kept with his decision to switch his identity to the second one to hopefully fool the law enforcers on this backwater planet, instead of just ditching the jeep somewhere and take Kad on a public transportation.

The jeep's previous identity, shown for all to see by way of a series of numbers and letters printed on metal plates on the front and rear of the vehicle, might have been compromised when he had driven away from those pesky, nosy Earthlings. So, while lecturing on the usefulness of different identities to use to an attentive Kad as they were parked in the middle of a huge meadow with excellent, unobstructed view all round, he had replaced the number plates and his driver's license, alongside a pack of other documents that he conveniently kept in one folder, all under the name "Jaster Gra'tua."

"You must do thorough when change your identities, Kad," he continued in the low tone he'd been keeping as, finished with the alterations, he and Kad climbed back up into the jeep. "You must never forget your own identity, however. Be true to yourself whenever you can. Change identity only when necessary." He gave Kad a stern look, to which, to his satisfaction, the boy nodded solemnly with wide eyes.

"Sometimes, we only have honour, nothing else," he went on in a quieter voice, remembering his years as a slave, as he looked deep into his new son's eyes. "Never lose your honour, Kad, aside from identity. Face your friends and enemies as yourself. If you fight dishonour with dishonour, you just insult yourself. You insult me, too, as your father, if you do that."

Those vivid green eyes widened even more, if possible. "No!" the boy squawked. "No, I won't!"

Jango shrugged. "Just remember what I say, Kad'ika. Remember that when you need to act. Identity can be a weapon, like blasters, or knives, or the sword you are named, but not your true one."

"I'm named for a sword?" Kad's eyes lit up, losing their solemn tinge. Jango let loose a mental sigh and nodded, preparing himself for a barrage of questions, like earlier when they had talked about the mechanisms of the jeep, while he had searched for bugs or homing beacons the Earthlings might have left on it.

By now, he'd ruefully realised and acknowledged that he'd made an error in judgement about the boy's personality. Kad might be overly intimidated by furious people and loud noises, and the boy had an irritating tendency to be overly timid in expressing his thoughts, opinions and ideas; but if removed from such things, his thirst for knowledge was like a waterless traveller lost on a desert planet far from civilisation.

Well, but it was a good time anyway, wasn't it, to teach Kad about the boy's new heritage as a Mandalorian? He could use the time to get into his armour, too, and teach Kad about using a small blaster pistol should the boy's interest be peaked by his armour and collection of weapons. His armour, after all, minus most of the weapons, could act as further identity blurrer, like he'd seen those "clowns" do in the few shopping malls he'd visited, however much he despised comparing his well-functioning, life-saving armour with those soft, garish, ridiculous costumes.

Eh, he had a bad feeling about this setup….

18.

Kad skipped along beside his father with renewed energy, having been held back for so long in their jeep ride across the countryside and several counties, while talking about Mando'a – the Mandalorian language, his dad's people's language – and also the Mandalorian culture. He must have forgotten several things, especially since he'd been feeling so sleepy before they'd parked here, but he was equally sure that he'd gotten most of them. Dad had coached the lecture in interesting – and oftentimes exciting – stories, after all. It beat watching those stupid programmes on telly like Dudley did! He had even gotten some chance to play – no, practise – on what Dad had called a "blaster," which looked and sounded a lot like a toy pistol with its whining noise and red beams, which had culminated in a brief target-shooting training with a few pieces of leaves and grass-blades. His dad had been so stern when talking about how the blaster wasn't a toy at all; but anyway, Kad himself had seen how scorched those poor, poor leaves were when he'd managed to nail them at last with it, and he didn't want to imagine how it might be on human skin.

Dad had lots more of the blaster and blaster-like things in his humongous backpack, and he'd promised Kad could learn to use them soon enough if he behaved and treated those weapons not as toys. He'd even promised Kad could wear a similar robotic full-body armour to what he's wearing right now later on, when he's grown up. – And imagine that, Mandalorian children became adults at the age of thirteen! Just five more years….

Kad's going to shut up now, though. Dad looked and sounded… frazzled. He didn't want to get lambasted again like earlier in the day. Dad had sounded a bit like Uncle Vern back then, just even scarier, and he'd love to avoid a repetition of that moment. He supposed he could just bask silently in how they truly matched each other in his current get-up despite the different materials and shapes, with how Dad had switched Kad's winter coat inside out, so he's clad in blue-grey-white now instead of green-grey-white. Dad had even let him bring the small blaster he'd practised in, put back in its holster and clipped onto his hip, similar to how Dad had two much larger blasters clipped onto the waist-band of the blue-grey-white armour, and he didn't forget to bring his little backpack – his! He still couldn't believe it – along, too.

The moment became more perfect when, apparently tired of having to match his best pace, Dad swooped Kad up into his steel-plate-covered arms as they neared the glass door leading into the shopping mall proper from the parking space. Dad had promised him a trip to the bookstore for whatever books or items he might need for his "earth education" – such a weird term – while they weren't hunting for other supplies, but this was far better than that. True, Dad wasn't so cuddly to snuggle in, wrapped in blue-grey-white metal plates like this from shoulders down, mostly mounted with weird contraptions that Dad called weapons no less, and he couldn't see Dad's face too since Dad's entire head was hidden in an odd white with blue streaks helmet with a black with blue streaks line running vertically down the middle of the visor and an antenna jutting out from one side, but it's still Dad, and this was only the third time ever that Kad was carried willingly by a grown-up.

Dad seemed quite uneasy, judging from how tense his shoulders were and how he picked up his pace even more, with how people stopped to gawk at them, quite intensely and interestedly at that. Kad could relate to that; he felt uneasy too, unaccustomed to so much interest from so many grown-ups. Maybe he could help? Distract Dad a bit, for example?

He looked away from the gawkers, shifted a little in his dad's arms till he could rather comfily drape himself against Dad's armoured chest, then his eyes landed on the pair of cylindrical things, each looking like the mix between a rocket and a fire extinguisher, that was mounted on Dad's back alongside other contraptions. Dad hadn't explained about this one, among others, so maybe…?

"What's this, Dad?"

He reached his right hand up to tap the top of the twin cylinders, as his left arm wound round his father's neck in between the shoulder-mounted scope-like thing to stabilise his perch. But quickly and silently, Dad's armour-gloved, weapon-mounted hand, which could easily dwarf and crush his forearm, seized his scrawny appendage by the wrist and tucked it in between them.

"What I told you about touch weapons, Kad?"

The flat-sounding growl was electronically tinged, but definitely Dad's voice, and definitely displeased.

Oopsie….