Chapter She'cu: Gotal'ad Tegaanalir
FtF Solus FtF
Rook's barge was traveling at the fastest speed possible through the near pitch-blackness of night, giant fireballs of what was left of their secondary base blooming in their wake. Doran hoped that his friends had managed to get clear of the mighty blast, but he couldn't exactly worry about it at the moment. If the Yuuzhan Vong saw the barge making its get-away, its fighters could easily blow it to smithereens. And Doran very much liked his un-smithereened state. Being in the lowest of three decks, Doran had no idea how far they had traveled, or where they were headed. It was just as well considering the near dozen-plus Mandalorians from Clan Rook roaming about the barge.
He had abandoned his Gonk-droid disguise the moment he could, and then spent the next few minutes stretching the kinks out of his back. Whoever designed the Gonk-droids evidently didn't think that tall people would ever impersonate the boxy droid. But once his stretching was over, Doran got back to work. Dinua was somewhere on the barge. He was fortunate at the moment that all the Mandos were manning the turrets above-deck in case the Vong found them. That gave him a narrow window to creep around the lower decks.
As the barge continued to whisk over the mined-out landscape of Gargon, Doran crept from room to room, looking for any sign of his missing friend. It didn't take him long to find a section of the lower deck separated by a heavy metal door and a key-pad.
And Doran didn't exactly have time to wander topside and ask one of the Mandos what the password was. At the same time, he didn't exactly want to use the Force either. He had gone a full month without needing it, had earned Dinua's approval as well as his name back, kind of—she had stopped calling him dar'manda at least. But could he afford to not use the Force? Doran glared at the immovable door, as if it were its fault it was in the way.
"Hey! What are you doing here!?"
Well, the Force provided.
Doran turned and saw a Mandalorian aiming a blaster at him.
"Hiya, trying to get into the brig, mind opening the door for me?" Doran tried, keeping his hands in the air.
"Are you brain-dead?" The Mandalorian said in disbelief.
"Hey, I'm asking nicely," Doran retorted. He could hear and explosion echo outside, which wasn't a good thing. "Could you please open this door for me?"
"Why?"
"Well, I snuck on board and Overd Rook really hates me so he'll want to deal with me personally. But I know we're fleeing the Vongese so he'll need a place to keep me."
The Mandalorian shook his head. "Unbelievable. Fine, get inside. We'll let Overd sort you out when we're through."
"You're a credit to your clan," Doran said cheerfully.
The Mandalorian swiped a card-key through the console and inputted a code. He then pointed his blaster at Doran as the door opened. "Alright you dikutla moron, get in. I'll let Rook know you're here."
"Thanks again!" Doran waved at the man as the door slid shut behind him.
When the door lock engaged with a menacing click, Doran exhaled, slowly turning around in the darkened room. A single glow panel on the ceiling provided illumination in the windowless, reinforced-walled room that served as the barge's brig. When his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting and saw the condition of the other occupant, Doran paled and immediately moved to her side. In the gonk-droid chassis he hadn't been able to get a good look at her, and now that he could, he immediately wished he had paid more attention to the first-aid lessons his mom had taught him.
He made a gesture to unlock the manacles, but then stared helplessly at her for a few seconds. Even in the dim light of the room, there didn't seem to be a part of her that wasn't cut, bruised, or burned, with dried blood from recently opened injuries visible at various areas of her body. The walls of the brig didn't keep the below-freezing air out of the room, and Dinua's lips were beginning to turn a not-so-healthy color. He took off his rough-hewn tunic and pulled it onto her bare figure, his height allowing the tunic to cover her in her entirety. At his touch, and the warmth of his shirt, Dinua stirred, a whimper involuntarily escaping her lips as she shivered. No!
"Easy, it's me," Doran whispered, supporting her against him and framing her face with both his hands. "It's me."
"Doran?" Dinua breathed out, her eye that wasn't swollen shut focusing on him and then widening in shock.
"Yeah," Doran allowed a small smirk despite the biting cold. "Me."
"You're alive?" Dinua rasped, shivering violently.
"Still alive," Doran nodded again, a hand gently running over the tissue of the eye that had been swollen shut. He knew it was cheating, but in her current state, he didn't care. He let the Force flow from his hand into the tissue, numbing any pain she felt as he did his best to reduce the swelling.
At his use of the Force, Dinua inhaled sharply, and then promptly clung to him, her body shaking like a leaf. "You're alive."
"Easy, I've got you," he murmured, closing his eyes he tried to steady himself as well. Death was too good for Overd Rook. "I'm alive. You're alive. I'm going to get you out of here."
Dinua exhaled a wheezy, short breath. "Please, I really want out of here. Get me out of here."
"That's definitely first on my things to do," Doran said reassuringly, continuing to pour Force energy into her body to act as a general balm. From his untrained eye, she more than definitely needed a bacta tank. But with one currently not available, she had to make do with his quasi-healing.
Dinua shuddered, a groan of relief escaping her. She reached for him, and he gently took her hand into his. It was then he realized that she had no fingernails on said hand. He briefly wondered if the Force would make an exception and allow him to snap Overd's neck without any repercussions.
"Overd's mine," Dinua muttered, reading his darkening expression and shaking her head against his chest. "We'll see how good that coward is when I'm not chained up and drugged."
"Can I at least kick him once or something?" Doran asked, running one hand through her flowing black hair. From its wet, clean state, he briefly wondered if Overd's people had washed her down, and that only caused his anger to spike again.
"Sure, I'll save you a piece," Dinua said, her eyes closed.
Doran heard the hatch to the lower deck open, and felt Dinua flinch and shrink into him. "Don't worry, I got this."
"Let's hear your plan then, di'kut," Dinua managed bravely, despite that, her good eye stared up at him with almost manic fear.
Doran shifted her weight and gently set her back to the ground. He then pulled out the slingshot and what was left of his ammo and showed it to her. "They open the door, I take them out."
Dinua blinked. "You're making this up as you go along, aren't you?"
"That obvious?" Doran said, shifting so that he stood in front of her. "Can you stand?"
"Can you use your Force to take care of the bottoms of my feet?" Dinua asked in turn.
Doran glanced over his shoulder, and Dinua lifted one foot. He grimaced at the various blistering burns that decorated it. "Not burns that bad in the time we have."
The lock to the brig door beeped and cycled, and Doran returned his attention to the entryway.
"Alright you insane piece of…." The Mando from earlier was victim of an unlucky shot as Doran's projectile hit the man in his mouth mid-word. Though ion-pellets were more effective against machines, the human body was essentially a biological machine with its own current. Having an ion-pellet impact so close to the brain was not conducive to one's heath. The pellet snapped the man's head back and he spasmed forward, dropping to the ground.
The Mandalorian behind him wasn't impressed. But when he raised his blaster to fire, Doran sent another ion pellet at him and the gun shorted out. The Mandalorian charged at Doran before Doran could reload. But the sound of another blaster discharging stopped the Mando in his tracks.
Doran wildly looked in the direction of the shot and saw that Dinua had picked up the first Mandalorian's blaster.
"A slingshot?" Dinua shook her head with a ghost of a smile. "No self-respecting Mando would be caught with one."
"Good thing I'm not a self-respecting Mando then," Doran laughed in relief. He gently kneeled down next to her and pulled her to him, mindful of the injuries he had seen across the front of her body. "You can do the shooting then, I'll run."
"Sounds good, run fast," Dinua muttered, worrying him by not protesting or offering a biting comment as he lifted her off the ground bridal-style.
He carried her out of the cell just in time for another explosion to echo loudly outside. Panicked yells from the open hatch wafted down.
"Who's firing at us?" Dinua asked.
"The Yuuzhan Vong."
"Rook anger them too?" Dinua snorted.
"Kind of," Doran said. "Long story."
"Short version."
"Overd's people were acting on bad intel and passed said intel on to the local garrison of scar-heads. We had no idea Clan Ordo had their hangar rigged to blow."
"Long story later," Dinua laughed weakly, her head still tucked in the crook of his arm as he carried her slender frame.
Another explosion.
"That sounded close," Doran said worriedly.
One more.
"Too close," Dinua agreed.
Doran slowly backed away from the hatch. He glanced over his shoulder at the cell. "New plan."
"Already hating it," Dinua replied as he brought the both of them back into the cell. He set her down, then closed the door, the lock cycling with a click. "Doran?"
"Trust me?" Doran asked tenderly, dropping down so that they were eye level.
Frightened brown eyes stared at him for a long moment, before Dinua nodded. He gathered her back to him and braced them against the corner of one of the walls. A split second later, several explosions sounded in unison, the last shaking the entire barge from a direct hit. As follow-up shots nailed the burning vehicle, Doran grimaced as the entire reinforced area of the brig was blown free. He briefly wondered why he decided to travel by insane-box twice in one night as said box was pin-wheeled out of control through the air. The momentum bounced both he and Dinua around, and he did his best to act as a cushion for his already battered companion.
"Ouch," Doran groaned, bouncing off another wall with Dinua still securely held against him. "Ouch. Ouch."
"K'atini," Dinua said in a small voice, almost out of reflex.
"Trying to," Doran breathed out, exhaling again as they were thrown to the opposite side of the container. It didn't help that the bodies of the two dead Mandos were also being tossed around with them. "How you holding up?"
"I have a giant airbag," Dinua said raspily.
"Glad to be of service."
The out of control spinning stopped, to be replaced by a jarring crunch as the brig slammed against a rocky cliff and tumbled down its side. When the nightmarish ride was over, Doran was still trying to figure out which way was up and down.
"Dinua?" He checked again, he could feel her pain through the Force, and redirected his energy into the areas that bothered her most. He felt her exhale against him, her arms in a death grip around his torso.
"Still alive," she wheezed.
Not liking the shallow sounds coming from her every breath, Doran shifted so that she was reclined against him. "Can I use the Force to make sure there's nothing seriously wrong?"
"Fractured ribcage," Dinua provided faintly, the ordeal already exhausting what little strength she had built up. "Probably punctured my lung. They used a bacta patch to keep it from becoming fatal, but only just."
"I'm not an expert at healing, but I think I can help," Doran said. "I'll have to put my hand over the area though."
Dinua just rolled her good eye at him and took his hand, slipping it beneath the tunic he had given her. "Just get to work already."
"Yes, ma'am," Doran remarked, closing his eyes and submersing himself in the Force.
He didn't know how long it took, but he next became aware of his situation when the bright rays of Gargon's sun hit shone down through the jagged tear in the brig's walls. He stirred, realizing that Dinua had fallen asleep, tucked against him with both her hands resting over his one beneath her shirt. He slowly removed his hand and let his fingertips caress the side of her face, the sunlight making her bruised face look much worse than before. She stirred again, her entire body tensing up as consciousness returned and an arm lashing out.
"Shhh….It's still me," Doran said quickly, rubbing her back and ignoring the stinging pain from where her arm had hit his face.
Her head jerked up towards him, her good eye focusing, and Dinua let out a rush of air as she sagged back against him. Then, she tilted her head and exhaled again. "You fixed the lung?"
"Think so," Doran nodded. "Not an expert healer or anything so you should probably get it checked out by those Mando-Jedi at Jintar's place."
Dinua nodded, hugging his arm to her. "Any idea where we are?"
"Just emerged from the trance a few seconds ago," Doran shook his head. "Considering it was just starting to be night on the night-shade side when we began the attack, we're either crossed over or have been out for longer than I want to think about."
Dinua nodded again, falling silent as she kept her lanky form tucked against him.
"On the bright side," Doran continued. "We no longer have to worry about getting blasted apart. All the shooting appears to be over. I'm kind of curious about what things will be like when we…"
"Doran," Dinua whispered.
"Yeah?" He looked down at her, and had to blink. He couldn't remember Dinua ever being so….young…looking, with no emotional barriers or any of her icy persona present. It was then that he was reminded that for all her bluster and tough attitude, she was barely a year old than he was.
"Vor entye," Dinua murmured, squeezing his arm.
"It was a team effort," Doran blushed slightly, looking away. "I mean, Jintar and Commander Wren and…."
"Just shut up and let me say thanks," Dinua cut him off, her tough-girl exterior returning for a fraction. "It's not every day I find some reason to thank you after all."
Doran glanced back to her, chuckling as he did. "You have a point. Last month, though, I promised to have your back. If I had been with you…"
"Then Overd would have put a plasma round in your skull and I'd still be begging for death," Dinua said flatly. "You kept your promise. You're here now. That's all that matters. Now will you accept my thanks or not!"
"Fine, fine," Doran chuckled. "But thank me after we get back to base. Don't want to jinx it or anything."
"You…." Dinua smiled again, laughing softly. "Fine. I'll thank you later."
"You look pretty when you smile, you should do it more often," Doran said, his mouth moving before he could stop it.
Dinua's eyes widened, color appearing on her own bruised cheeks as she looked away and shook her head. "You really are an ori'dikut aren't you?"
"Most definitely," Doran hung his head, sighing in exasperation at himself. Memo to self, install mouth filter. He tried to look at anywhere but her, and noticed that the other two dead Mandos in the crate were nearby. "Mind if I set you down so I can see what supplies we can use from those two?"
"In a little bit," Dinua's voice had returned to a whisper, hands reflexively tightening around his arm again. "They'll still be there in a little bit.
Doran's expression softened and he turned his attention to her. Her good eye met his gaze, as if challenging him to call her out. He knew better.
"Yeah, I could use the rest too," Doran breathed out, fully reclining in the sunlight. With his adrenaline gone, he was actively using the Force to keep himself from freezing. It couldn't have been much better for Dinua, who didn't have such benefits. He shifted, and she laid herself out next to him, her head pillowed on his chest.
"Can…can you use your Force again…for my injuries…Not that they bother me or anything, but I want to be fighting-ready if any of Overd's people survive and I…"
"Sure," Doran breathed out, again calling on the Force. "Then you can kick their shebse and I can be your trusty backup."
Dinua nodded against his chest, falling silent.
"You're going to be okay, Dinua," Doran felt the need to say.
She nodded again, not saying anything as she felt the pains and discomforts of her many wounds lessen.
"We're going to get through this," Doran repeated both for her sake and his. He closed his eyes and felt Dinua fall asleep once more. With the sunlight still streaming through the roof, Doran took that moment to revel in his successes, failures, and the brief moment of peace the crazy Mando-Vong-filled world of Gargon was granting him.
FtF T'ad FtF
"Try it now," Doran said.
Dinua gingerly placed her weight on her feet, now wrapped with a bacta patch from the dead Mandos' gear as well as strips of cloth from their clothing. When no shooting pain followed, she looked to him with a nod. Both eyes—her swollen eye healed thanks to an hour of Force-therapy—showing no pain. "It's bearable."
She then slipped on the pair of sandals Doran had created from the garments and boots worn by the two dead men. Her remark about him being a cobbler in another life led to him explaining how he had had to fashion his own shoes during one of his many adventures with his mom.
Unfortunately, both men weren't her size in clothing, so she had to make do with the tunic Doran had initially put on her. It was cinched at the waist by one of the men's utility belts, however, and she now had a functional blaster, several packs of ammo, two explosive darts, and a variety of other field equipment. She wore one of their long-sleeved shirts as an overly large jacket to help insulate her from the chill of Gargon's air.
"Here," Doran tossed her the water canteen from one of the men, and took the other's canteen for himself. His chest was broader than both men, so neither of their shirts would fit on him either. With the other blaster fried from his ion-pellet, all he had left for a weapon was his slingshot and two more pellets.
Dinua picked up the glowstick to go over the other supplies they had gathered during the day. From how quickly night had fallen again, the two knew they were still on the night-shade side of the planet. She ran a hand through her shortened hair, her dark locks lopped off in a single cut with one of the vibroknives carried by the dead Mandos. "If we ration the water and food, we should have enough for two days."
"Let's hope someone finds us before that happens," Doran clipped on the utility belt of the other Mando.
The 'day' as short as it was, had been spent healing, recuperating from the harrowing ordeal and appreciating life without explosions and threat of imminent death. Doran had done what he could for Dinua, but Rook had really worked her over, and he was no healer. The few tricks he did know were enough to get Dinua on her feet and able, but he'd feel a lot more comfortable if she got proper medical care.
In those few hours they had talked, kind of. He told her about some of his wild adventures with his mom, and she returned the favor. In a way, her mom sounded a lot like his own; independent, tough, and always looking for the next adventure in life. Dinua had often tagged along with her mother when she was young, her father having died when she was still a baby. For the missions 'too dangerous for a little girl,' Briika Jeban left Dinua with the Skirata family, the only 'ally' apart from Boba Fett and Goran Beviin that Briika had trusted. Doran related to that too, often taking 'vacations' from his mom at the Jedi Praxeum on Yavin IV when his mom had 'black ops' stuff she had to do.
There had been one major difference though. Dinua's mom had died a mere year earlier. His mom was still zooming about the galaxy fighting evil and defending her own code of justice.
"Treasure her, Doran," Dinua whispered softly, field-stripping the blaster of one of the dead Mandos. Her hands stilled, her head bowed. "Treasure every moment, every word. If she asks you for a hug, hug her no matter how embarrassing it might be, because you never know… a second later, she could be gone. A second later and all you'll have left is the memory of her arms around you, the sound of her voice saying your name as she makes you feel as if nothing in the galaxy could hurt you. That no matter how much you want her to be at your side again, no matter how much you want to hear her tell a bad joke or teach you something in a roundabout way, it won't be possible ever again."
By the time she had finished speaking, her voice was cracking and her entire body was shaking in silent anguish. Doran set down the med-kit he had been inventorying and moved to Dinua's side. She looked up at him with watery brown eyes, a weak smile on her face. "I never cried for her you know. When she died. How could I? She died fighting for what she believed in, died in combat defending others, the way she always wanted to go out if her time came. She was ori'ramikade, jatnese be te jatnese. Died following the Resol'nare, died a Mando'ad. Tears wouldn't honor her. They would only make me weak in the eyes of the others. So I didn't cry."
"You're a lot stronger than I am," Doran said softly, sitting down next to her.
She set the blaster down, and leaned into him. "Am I really?"
"I'd be crying buckets if mom died," Doran murmured. "Forget the stoic 'warriors-don't-shed-tears' fodder. She's my mom. The one who was there for me whenever I needed her, who taught me how to survive in this crazy galaxy. If it weren't for her, I'd be one of those cloned Jedi the academy churns out, spouting whatever lines the Masters tell them to say. I'm pretty sure anyone who met me or my mom would make an exception and allow me to bawl like crazy."
He felt Dinua's head bob against his bare arm, felt a few drops of wetness against his skin.
"Dinua?"
"Trying it your way," Dinua whispered hoarsely towards the ground. "My way didn't do me any good when Rook had me…wouldn't stop until he made me cry….I figured I need to try something else. If crying works for you…"
Doran shifted, hesitantly. He knew his mom would know what to say in this situation, but he was at a loss for words. "Our moms are awesome."
Dinua emitted a sniffling laugh, nodding, the tears falling more frequently. "They are…were…"
"Are," Doran corrected. "I told you I attended my own funeral, right? Don't you Mandos believe that those who fall in battle aren't really dead? Just securing a beachhead for us on the other side? From what you've told me about your mom, it sounds exactly like something she'd do. Make sure the other side is all clear so when it's your time, you can kick back and have a slice of deceased ujj cake."
"Di'kut. I'm pretty sure deceased ujj cake don't go to the same place as deceased Mandalorians," Dinua couldn't help but giggle at that."And how can ujj cake be deceased in the first place?"
"All those tiny crumbs that escape to the floor, or the whole pieces that fall down and are swept away. They reform into a giant ujj cake in the next world," Doran invented, his story-telling abilities kicking into gear. "And all the Mandos who go on ahead of you are fighting for a piece of that mythical ujj cake, so your mom has to make sure you're saved a slice. A reward for a life well lived."
Dinua fell silent, her tears still falling at regular intervals as she hugged his arm in a loose grip.
"No matter what dar'yaim Overd put you through, you made it out," Doran said gently, gazing out at the clear Gargon sky. "Now you're going to thumb your nose at him and follow in your mom's footsteps and became a Mandalorian commando she'd be proud to save a piece of deceased ujj cake for."
Dinua's head bobbed again. "You're an ori'dikut, you know that?"
"I do my best," Doran breathed out, too nervous to look at her. Not exactly in tune with the Force, he wasn't sure if his words were helping or making things worse. Sure using the Force to heal her was one thing, but trying to gauge her emotional state was a completely different thing all together.
Dinua let out a slow breath. "And that works for you far better than my best worked for me."
"I cheat," Doran held out a hand and the pieces of the blaster Dinua was working on floated into the air.
"Want to go back to being a dar'manda?"
"Nah," Doran shook his head. "I know who I am, a Jedi."
"You haven't been using the Force the whole month."
"Wanted to see who I was even without it. Still a Jedi," Doran shrugged. He reflected on the last few days. "Well, a Jedi pretending to be a Mandalorian anyways. Commander Wren has an interesting take on the Force. Says it's a tool, nothing more."
"Commander Wren…how would she know…"
"I have a big mouth," Doran slapped his forehead with his unoccupied hand.
"She's a Jedi?"
"She'd say no, just a Mando who wields the Force," Doran shrugged."Kind of found out when I went to her for help."
"You've had a very busy week," Dinua said wryly.
"I'm the first on your comm?" Doran said with a raised eyebrow.
"Overd held the comlink upside down," Dinua shot back, a slight flush suffusing her bruised cheeks. "You were last."
"Ah, that makes much more sense," Doran said teasingly.
"How did you survive?" Dinua muttered, glancing at her fingernail-less hand resting atop of Doran's larger hand. "He showed me the vid, of you falling..."
"Atmospheric venting," Doran explained. "The moon vents the buildup of air in the center of the moon to the outside to keep the moon spinning. A poor man's artificial gravity. I got caught up in the venting, but managed to grab a ladder before I was blown completely out of the moon."
"So, luck?" Dinua said dryly.
"Luck," Doran confirmed, matching her smile even as she rolled her eyes at him.
She nudged him again. "Well, let's hope your luck holds out, di'kut. Between any Rook survivors the Vongese, and this planet, we're going to need it."
"What makes you think there'll be Rook survivors?"
"Would you stay on a floating target with plasma fire raining down all around you?"
"Errr…we kind of did."
Dinua bopped him atop the head.
"Okay, if I were a sane, homicidal, grudge-bearing, death-loving, chest-pounding Mando, then probably not. I see your point. Well, if we minus these two." He gestured to the bodies. "And the rest survived. Then Overd had close to a dozen flunkies left."
"Finish healing me then," Dinua said, straightening and reaching for the blaster still floating in the air while wiping away the last of her tears with her other hand. "They had their chance, now it's my turn."
They emerged from the remains of the barge brig, the Gargon moon high in the sky. The night air just as below freezing as ever.
"Are you sure you'll be okay in this weather?" Dinua asked, shuddering. Though she was wearing both of the men's' long-sleeve shirts over the tunic Doran had gave her, the shirt wasn't meant for keeping out the cold and barely protected her from the biting night air.
Doran shuddered as well, drawing on the Force the best he could. Due to Dinua's health, and his Force capabilities, he had given her the available clothing, meaning he was still bare-chested and pretty cold. "The Force should keep me from dying of hypothermia."
"Should?" Dinua arched an eyebrow.
Doran grinned. "Well, as long as I can keep focused on maintaining my body temperature, yeah. If guys start shooting at us, or if I have to use the Force for something else, I'll probably get frostbitten pretty quickly."
Dinua shook her head in exasperation. "So, unless I want you freezing to death, you'll be useless in a firefight?"
"Isn't that normally the case anyways?" Doran bantered.
Dinua experimentally stretched out a leg and winced, the four days of confinement and torture not doing anything to help despite her excellent conditioning. She tried the other leg, with similar results, and she cursed under her breath.
"Dinua?"
She shook her head her hands . "I'll be fine…just…we're going to have to go slow."
Doran nodded solemnly, looking away. Healing her injuries, or at least temporarily numbing the pain, he had an unwanted knowledge of just how badly and where Overd had hurt her. He was amazed that she could still function given the things Overd had put her through. When he had asked her about it in his usual foot-in-mouth manner during one particularly awkward healing session, she had told him, I'm only a victim if I think I am. I'm Mandalorian, an ori'ramikad in training, and that's the only identity I need. "We will."
"Stop looking like that," Dinua chastised.
"Like what? Like you didn't just go through hell because I wasn't fast or smart enough to get to you sooner?" Doran looked to her again, eyes pleading for her to understand.
"I was the one Overd had fun with, not you."
"You're my friend, I can't help it," Doran breathed out.
Dinua's face softened, and now it was her turn to look away. "And you will never know how grateful I am that you are." She looked back to him. "But I told you before, I'm a Mandalorian. I don't want nor need your pity."
"You're a fourteen year old girl," Doran shot back. "And Mandalorian isn't a homonym for invincible."
"I'll be fifteen next month, and it is when you have your friends…family, at your side," Dinua said in a soft voice, her expression unguarded once more. She stepped to him and rested a hand on his arm. "And I can't afford to be a fourteen year old girl right now. Maybe, after a bacta dip back at base and there's no one else around, I'll be that girl. But for now, if I want to survive, I have to be a Mandalorian with my aliit watching my back, just like he promised."
Doran breathed out, nodding reluctantly. "Let's go home then."
Dinua let her arm fall back to her side, her Mandalorian 'mask' falling into place. "Yes, let's."
Doran glanced about their surroundings. "Ummm…which way is home?"
Dinua blinked and looked around as well. "The sun set in that direction…so if we walk that way…"
"You have no idea."
"I have no idea," Dinua confirmed, allowing a wry smirk to escape. "But like I said, if we walk opposite of the sun's path, we'll reach the training perimeter eventually."
"Yay, I always wanted to go sight-seeing the night-shade side of the planet," Doran said with forced cheer. They began their trek in silence, the moon above providing ample lighting as their two seemingly tiny figures made their way across the vast Gargon wilderness. They rested often, Dinua's stamina and physical condition being pushed to its limits. When they were on the move, their breaths came out in visible clouds, their pace slow and steady over the sharp, glossy rocks. All around, mountains of gravel, mined-out pits, and mounds of loose rock kept them alert for the slightest bit of trouble. But as the minutes turned into hours, the monotony of the scenery caused both young teens to relax.
"To your left is a pile of rocks. To your right is a slightly taller pile of rocks," Dinua deadpanned, her voice breaking up the silence. "And if you look ahead, there are more rocks."
"Don't forget the rusted mining bucket we passed last pile of rocks," Doran pointed out with a smile.
"Yes, a left-over artifact from when the moon was whole," Dinua couldn't help but continue to play along. "You'll see many such artifacts as we tour this dead world."
"It's far from dead," Doran said lightly.
"If you bring up the Force, I'll whack you," Dinua shot back.
"What do you have against the Force?" Doran voiced.
"Nothing. It's the people who use it I don't like. It's like giving a blaster to a babe and expecting the babe to not shoot its head off."
"That's a very cheerful image."
"I was making an analogy. Would you rather say it's like giving a Gungan a blaster and expecting it to do anything useful?"
"The blaster or the Gungan?"
"That's not the point. You Jedi, you're far too trusting and pacifistic. The Vongese have crashed a moon down onto a planet, and does your Jedi Order go to war? No, they sit around and deliberate, and contemplate. If that moon had hit a Mando world, all of Mandalore would be in arms and fighting with everything we have. We'd hit the Vongese again and again, stop them from establishing any foothold. The Jedi? They talk, fret about if what they're doing is right or not. It's crazy that the Order has all that power, but that power is in the hands of people who are timid and weak in character. And your dar'Jetii, don't get me started on them. They actually use the power they have, but are delusional in that they believe everyone should serve them because of it."
A rock gave way beneath Dinua's foot and she let out a yelp of surprise as she fell backwards. She would have come crashing down onto the jagged, glassy surface of the ground beneath her, but suddenly found herself suspended in the air.
"I don't know, I think I use the power I have in pretty useful ways," Doran floated her safely upright.
"I can stand, don't give yourself frostbite on my account," Dinua said quickly. "And I was making generalizations. Your Jedi leadership is like the New Republic Senate. It stalls and stalls and tries to talk its way out of a military conflict. Meanwhile millions are dying and suffering. If the Jedi Order was meant to protect innocents, protect the galaxy, shouldn't their first instinct be to rush to head off the Vongese before more innocents suffer?"
"I wouldn't know. Mom keeps us out of those political decisions and big-wig meetings. But you do have a point. Just, not every Jedi is like Master Skywalker. I heard those Solos were actually at Sernpidal when the Vong brought the moon down. And the last I heard, Master Durron wanted to take the fight to the Vong," Doran felt the need to defend the other Jedi, even though he identified with them mostly in name only.
Dinua just shrugged. "Like I said. You have a leadership that is fractured, an order that is splintered, and the only thing keeping you all together is that you label yourselves Jedi. The Resol'nare leaves very little room for interpretation. Your Order, from what you've told me of it, seems to have as many interpretations of your Code as there are Jedi. I mean, look at you. From the definition your leaders set out, from their version of what the Code should mean, are you actually a Jedi?"
"I think I a…" a plasma bolt flashed through the air, narrowly missing Doran's head. He dropped to the ground anyways, hoping that the shooter's ego would make the shooter think the shot had hit.
"Doran!" Dinua yelled, taking cover behind a rock.
"Still alive," Doran shouted back, his cheek felt unnaturally warm so he reached a hand up and it came away wet. Great, he was going to have to get bacta treatment too.
"Stay that way!"
Another plasma bolt zipped through the air, sending fragments of rock flying as it grazed off the top of Dinua's cover. Despite the situation, Doran couldn't help but shake his head and laugh.
"What's so funny?" Dinua said incredulously.
"It was supposed to be my day off!" Doran chuckled back, yelping as a nearby explosion from a superheated plasma round hit a small boulder and peppered him and Dinua with pebbles. The flashing streaks of plasma through the chilling night air illuminated their frantic figures. He grabbed the Mandalorian teen with him and pulled them both to the ground as another round zipped by them. "Don't you Mandaloirans understand that concept!"
"K'atini," Dinua replied, rolling onto her back with her purloined plasma rifle clutched to her chest. She glanced to her side to see Doran panting behind another mound of gravel. "We really need to get you a blaster of your own, di'kut."
"Right, because I make it a habit of getting into gunfights on my day off," Doran shouted over the din. Another near-miss exploded nearby, sending a spray of tiny rocks flying. His thoughts continued to go over just how he got himself in his current situation as he once again had to fear for his life. Sad thing was, that fear was kind of losing its edge after his past week. "Do you see who's trying to kill us?"
"Draw his fire." Dinua pulled out the metal water flask and used it as a mirror.
Doran shook his head in annoyed amusement. "Sure, I'll just stand up and hope he's a bad shot." Wincing, he waved a hand above the rock he was using as cover, then promptly yanked it back. A split second later, a plasma round skipped off the ground.
"It's a sniper," Dinua said, pulling her makeshift mirror back as another plasma bolt streaked her way. "The shot came from the mountain of gravel beyond the next rise. It's at least a quarter klick away so the cold night air deformed the plasma round enough to make it miss."
Another shot blew out the rock Dinua was hiding behind, and she dove for cover, rolling to a stop next to Doran. She winced, clutching her side at the rough landing. "But he's apparently compensated for that."
"Yeah."
"Ideas?" Dinua looked to him.
Doran mimed waving his hands. "Poof."
"You can get him from that far away?" Dinua raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Nah, not that good," Doran chuckled. "I need to get to the base of that mountain."
"No way we can cross a quarter-klick of open ground without getting our heads shot off."
"No way we can," Doran said carefully.
Dinua blinked, her brown eyes widening. She reached out and gripped his arm. "Di'kut! No! We don't know if the sniper is the only one there. There might be more of them!"
Doran smiled. "Hey, it's me."
Dinua shook her head vehemently, her hand tightening around his wrist. "No."
"Do you have another idea?" Doran said softly. "There's a reason why that sniper's holed up there. We saw this pass from our last rest stop. It's the only way through that doesn't involve walking over or climbing on razor-sharp rock for a dozen kilometers. As super-Mando as you are, I don't think you can handle that detour."
Dinua's jaw was clenched, her brown eyes burning into his. "You can't die."
"Of course, that'd suck royally," Doran said, gathering the Force around him. "It's a life or death situation. Mind excusing this use of Force?"
"Live and I just might," Dinua bit out, her hand still gripping his wrist.
"Thanks," Doran gently removed her hand, giving it a small squeeze before letting go. "Don't worry, I'm not going to die. It'd be a pretty terrible rescue if I did."
"Very," Dinua managed, glancing down at her wrapped up feet and the various other bacta patches covering her body. Doran shifted so that he could get up as fast as possible. "Doran, wait."
"Dinua?" He looked back to her.
She immediately gripped the back of his head and planted a smoldering kiss, then tightened her grip. "Don't you dare die, got that!"
"Got it," Doran breathed out, his heart pounding rapidly as she released him.
Dinua then shrugged off one of her outer layers of clothing and grabbed a nearby oblong rock. Shrouding the rock in the shirt, she met Doran's eyes one more time and nodded.
She threw the shirt-draped rock, the sniper nailing it dead center at the exact same time Doran sprinted from cover in the opposite direction.
The crackling explosion of the plasma round obliterating the rock was enough for Doran to push the kiss out of his mind as he darted in a zigzag motion across the rocky ground. The sniper fired again, the round rushing past him. Again, the yellow crackle of super-heated metal hissing through the air. And again. Doran wove left and right, his large form standing out in the bright moonlight and providing a tempting target.
Yet, with the Force letting him know about the incoming shots, Doran always managed to be scant millimeters away from the incoming shots. He pressed forward, wondering about his sanity as the closer he got, the less time he had to react to the lethal projectiles. A near miss and he lost his footing, tumbling forwards and letting out a strangled yell as the non-burned side of his face scrapped against the ground.
He fully expected to be nailed by another shot, when a flurry of shots flew over his head from the other direction. Not wasting any time, he scrambled back to his feet and continued to run. He was nearing his goal, the sniper fire now split between him, and Dinua—who had apparently advanced while the sniper's attention had been on him. Every time the sniper had a bead on him, Dinua would let loose a flurry of plasma from her purloined rifle and force the sniper to take cover.
Doran reached his goal after five more heart-pounding minutes of ducking, weaving, and dodging. The Force might have been augmenting his speed and reflexes, but the sniper's military training had more or less balancing things out. But now that the sniper was in Doran's range, the tables were turned.
Doran continued to sprint forward towards the mountain, the Force building up around him. The sniper fired one last desperation shot that sent fragments of glassed rock showering Doran, but the young teen didn't care. He bound up the unstable mountain with leaps and speed that could only be accomplished with the assistance of the Force. Before the sniper knew it, the teenage Jedi was standing right in front of him.
"Su'cuy," Doran smirked at the gold-armored Mandalorian.
"How…"
"And good night," Doran kicked out, catching the stunned Mandalorian in the helmet and knocking him backwards into the blind he had created. Doran searched the man and secured the Mandalorian with his own stun-cuffs. He then gripped the man and proceeded back down the mountain to wait for Dinua.
Of course, Doran hadn't realized how fast his Force-assisted speed had allowed him to close the distance, or how long it would take the injured Dinua to cover that same distance. He used the time to search the Mando further, procuring a vibroblade and the mercenary's rifle in the process. Then, with nothing better to do, he just sat on a large boulder and waited for Dinua.
While he waited, the Mando awoke once, started cursing, and Doran kicked him to knock him out again. The Mando woke a second time, this time glaring at Doran from behind his helmet but saying nothing.
Dinua emerged from the shadows several minutes later, her breath coming out in shallow pants as she glared at Doran. "Ori'dikut!"
"Thanks for saving my hide back there," Doran grimaced at the enraged expression on her face.
"If it wasn't going to hurt my hand more than your head, I'd smack you right now."
"I am eternally grateful of my hard head," Doran agreed. "I didn't expect to slip on that gravel patch."
"I would hope not," Dinua retorted. She glanced at the Mandalorian. "Definitely one of Rook's people."
"Unless we have more than one group of gold-colored Mandalorians trying to kill us," Doran nodded.
"Let's take off his helmet, I want to see which hut'uun this one is before I blow his brains out." Dinua directed, holding up her blaster rifle.
Doran saw the almost wild look that appeared in her eyes and reflexively stepped between her and the bound Mandalorian. "Dinua."
"Get out of the way," Dinua gritted out, still breathing heavily from her trek over.
"Dinua," Doran said again.
"Doran."
He stayed where he was, not backing down. He reached up and placed a hand on her blaster rifle, pushing the barrel towards the ground. "Not like this."
"You saw what they did to me," Dinua hissed, trying to raise the barrel again.
"Killing him in cold blood will fix that?" Doran said.
"It'll be what he deserves."
"Overd's the guy responsible. This guy is just a peon. Let's find out what he knows and leave him tied up here. Or do you really want to massacre the entire Rook clan for Overd's actions? He's a pathetic coward, don't let him make you into a murderer."
Dinua didn't back down, her brown eyes almost manic. "It's justice. He got what he wanted from me, now I get to return the favor."
"He might have intel on where Overd Rook is," Doran switched tracks. "We blow his brains out, we can't question him. It's Overd you really want anyways, right?"
Dinua let out snarling breath, then flipped the safety back on the rifle, letting the energy build up bleed away. "Fine. We learn what he knows, then we blast him."
"It's a start," Doran shrugged. He glanced over to the Mandalorian and took off his helmet. "Hi there. You mind telling us everything we want to know so we can kill you later?"
The Mandalorian seemed to stare at him incredulously. "Why the heck would I do that?"
Dinua responded by holding up her rifle again, and then tracking the barrel downwards to a target somewhat lower than his mid-section. "Want to find out which body parts I can shoot off before you die? Plasma rounds cauterize wounds, so you don't have to worry about bleeding out."
"Dinua," Doran said in exasperation.
"He obviously needs to be motivated."
Doran placed a hand over one of hers. "Let me get this."
"Di'kut," she said, but with no venom behind her word as she nodded stiffly.
Doran turned back to their captive with the intel he had gathered earlier fresh in his mind. "So as you can see, my very angry friend with a plasma rifle here would love to end your ability to procreate. As part of the male gender, even I have to protest at such fate. You're going to help us because you really don't like what Overd is doing, and he's more trouble for your clan than he's worth. None of you can actually go against him since his dad is your clan-head and probably tries to cover for his loser of a son. But if an upstart like me or Dinua here bests Overd, isn't that all Ewok-Happy-Time with your Mandalorian culture?"
The Mandalorian didn't appear convinced.
Doran blinked and pointed back at Dinua. "Is Overd worth losing….those…over?" Doran gestured to the Mandalorian's targeted body-part. "A plasma round there will probably really, really, really hurt. The only bright side is that if you survive, you can warn everyone else you're speaking from personal experience."
The Mandalorian looked to the rifle, back to Doran, then looked away. "I don't know where Overd is right now, but I know where he and the others are going. They're trying to get back to the spaceport and get off the planet before the Vongese close in. He thinks the girl is dead so he doesn't see any reason to stick around."
"You're not going with them?"
"Was told to cover their escape and then lay low until things died down," the sniper shrugged. "He didn't know if any of Jeban's aliit was still in pursuit. When they got the Vongese involved, it threw him off completely."
"How many others are with him?" Dinua said darkly.
"Just seven others in addition to Overd made it off the barge before it blew," the sniper answered back.
"And how do they expect to get to the spaceport?" Dinua kept her rifle aimed at him. "Do they have any speeders?"
"We had a cache of speeder bikes stored nearby," the sniper replied, nodding. "But they'll probably take it slow to avoid Vongese detection."
"And you?" Doran spoke up again, again gently pushing Dinua's rifle away from its target. "Do you have a speeder too?"
The sniper looked resigned. "On the other side of the gravel mountain."
"Thank you," Dinua said stiffly. Then, before Doran could stop her, whacked the Mandalorian with the butt of her rifle and put him out cold once more.
"Dinua!"
"He's still alive," Dinua said plainly. She turned away from Doran. "Besides, he wasn't one of the ones who...you know."
"Right," Doran muttered. "So, we take his speeder back to the base and…"
"No, we're taking the speeder to the spaceport."
"Dinua, there are eight, fully trained Mandos who are probably more than a little angry at the moment. Do you really think it's smart to just go marching off to confront them?"
"If we give them any more time, they'll get away," Dinua hissed. "We don't have time to let anyone else catch up."
They spotted the speeder covered with a camouflaged netting. Dinua moved to mount the bike, but then grimaced and aborted her attempt as the residual wounds from her time in captivity flared up.
"Dinua?"
"Drive. I'll sit side-saddle," Dinua mumbled, looking away. "But drive to the spaceport, got that?"
Doran breathed out. "Can the record note that I'm against this idea?"
"So noted," Dinua sat on the back of the bike behind Doran, wrapping a single arm around him to secure herself.
"Sure you won't fall off back there? We can always do another Force-healing sess…"
"Just go," Dinua hissed.
Doran activated the speeder and it hummed to life. The navi-comp installed in the front gave him a clear path to the Gargon spaceport and the eight angry Mandos it contained. Sighing, he gunned the engine and the speeder lurched forward.
FtF Ehn FtF
No one paid any attention to the two bloodied, dirt-covered, freezing cold, and exhausted teenagers that pulled up to the front of the spaceport. No one really cared. With the Yuuzhan Vong occupying many of the hangars and forbidding the importation of non-organic tech, many of those who had used the spaceport as a haven had moved on. Those left had fast learned it was better to keep to themselves and ignore the going-ons of the Yuuzhan Vong and Mandalorians.
Doran hefted the rifle he had taken from the sniper, while Dinua held the one she had taken from the dead Mandalorian. "You sure you want to do this without backup?"
"I have backup," Dinua said evenly.
"I don't count."
A small smile flickered across her lips. "Only in your head, di'kut."
"So how are we going to find Overd's hangar?" Doran said. "Or how do we know he hasn't already left?"
"If it's like you said and Overd pissed off the Vongese, then I highly doubt the Vongese are just going to let a ship leave this planet unscathed. Chances are they're still bunkered down in their ship waiting for the heightened security to blow over."
"We're going to search every hangar?" Doran asked as they stepped into the spaceport. "This place is pretty big."
"I don't know. But I'll think of…" Dinua suddenly reached out to stop Doran from taking another step forward. "Look."
Doran glanced in the direction she was pointing, blinking in surprise at a familiar winged gunrunner in line at the departures' terminal.
"I don't care that the Vong have their smallclothes in a twist," Quito harangued the clerk at the podium. "I want passage on the first ship off this planet, now! It can be a garbage trawler for all I care!"
"I'm sorry, sir, but Commander Gorak Lah made it clear that no ships are to leave this planet. Anyone trying to do so will be shot down. He was really explicit about that."
"Kriffin' Mandalorians and their business," Quito threw his hands up in the air. "Look, I'm in tight with a very dangerous clan of Mandalorians, practically an honorary clan-member. I just spoke to the son of the clan-leader himself. You look like a smart guy, do you want trouble with a clan of Mandalorians?"
"Not really sir, no," the clerk shook his head. "But no pilot wants to risk getting shot down by Gorak Lah's people. I hear that the Vong commander is planning to skin alive the ones he's hunting."
A blaster report rang loudly and silenced the conversation.
"Well, well, well," Doran drawled, not exactly feeling sympathetic to the mercenary Toydarian. "Dinua, doesn't that look like your old buddy? You know, the one that sold you out for some credits."
"It really does look like him," Dinua growled. She shouldered her rifle and aimed. "But he wouldn't be stupid enough to cross paths with me again. Not after what he pulled."
Quito's head jerked about, his wings fluttering. "Hey, hey, hey. For the record, it wasn't just some credits. It was a really, really really big pile of credits. Credits that you crazy Mandalorians blew up mind you!"
"Not helping yourself," Doran said calmly, his own rifle aiming at the Toydarian.
The others in line quickly scurried away, and the clerk ducked down behind the console and out of the line of fire.
Quito hovered backwards, hands up. "Look, Jeban, it was nothing personal. Okay? It was business, strictly business. When a big Mandalorian with big buddies arrives, shoots your guards, and then offers you a chance to become filthy rich if I just fired a flare-gun, who in their right mind would tell them 'no'?"
"Have you ever thought about what this Mandalorian was going to do to you after the fact?" Dinua hissed.
"Dinua," Doran said dryly.
"You going to stop me from shooting him too?" Dinua said archly as Quito nodded frantically.
"He does deserve it," Doran answered. Quito's nodding became a frantic shaking of his head. "But yeah, don't shoot him either. We can use him."
"I swear, if you stop me from blasting the next person I want to blast…" Dinua growled, finger resting outside the finger-guard.
"Quito," Doran said with false-cheer, of half a mind to blast the guy who betrayed one of his friends. "You want to live, right?"
"Very much so," Quito gulped, still staring fearfully at Dinua.
"Good, then you're going to help us," Doran said. "I couldn't help but overhear you say you're close with a clan of Mandalorians. 'Practically an honorary clan-member.' This won't happen to be Clan Rook, would it?"
"Welllll, I wouldn't say close," Quito said quickly. "More of a passing acquaintance, you know, the person you'd just nod at as you pass him in the street. And I was definitely exaggerating about being an honorary clan-member. I mean, look at me, a Mandalorian? Please."
"Quito," Doran said with an arched eyebrow.
"Well, okay! It is Clan Rook, but like I said, I barely know they guys."
"You're in contact with Overd Rook?" Doran pressed.
"More like he contacted me! Wanted to have me warn him if any of Jeban's buddies started poking around again. But I told him not this time. I wanted credits upfront and I wanted time to stash those credits."
"You like making deals, right?" Doran continued.
"Yes?" Quito said carefully.
"Here's a deal. Contact Overd, tell him that you have information about Dinua's friends and that you want to meet in person."
"You kidding, he'll blast me if I betray him."
Doran heard the sound of Dinua's blaster charging. "She'll blast you if you don't. At least, our way, you have a marginally better chance of running before being blasted."
Quito bowed his head, shaking it. "I swear this is the last time I'm getting tangled up with you Mandos. You are seven kinds of crazy and a serious drain on my profits."
"Make the call," Dinua hissed.
Quito pulled out a holo-comm from his vest, glancing at the two teens as he did. After a second, an image of Overd Rook appeared.
"What is it?"
"Big-shot Mandalorian, I've got some information for you," Quito began. "Information I know you would want to hear."
"And?"
"Not how it works. You pay me, then I talk. I want a direct deposit into my bank account this time, twenty thousand credits."
"Don't test my patience, Toydarian. You'll get your money if the information you have is worth it."
"Fine, then I want to meet in person," Quito bargained. "And I want half my price now. Half after the meet. I'm taking a big risk going up against those Mandos in the base, and my information has to be worth at least three times what I'm charging you."
"Fine, credits are being transferred now. You know the price of crossing Clan Rook."
"Great," Quito checked a datapad. "Where do you want to meet?"
"Starport, Hangar Xesh Five. Be there in thirty or no deal."
"On my way." Quito deactivated the comm and looked to the two teens.
"Did you just swindle ten thousand credits from Clan Rook?" Doran said blankly, taking the comm from Quito.
"I had to make this worth it somehow," Quito said defensively. "Anyway I did my part, I can go, right?"
"Dinua?" Doran looked to his friend.
Dinua made a face and lowered her rifle. "You owe me big time, Quito. I expect you to pay it off if I ever need that debt called in."
"As smart and as merciful as your mother," Quito said fawningly
"Before I let you go though, you're going to finish helping us," Dinua said.
"What…but I…"
"Overd is expecting you to show up at the hangar. Not the di'kut or myself."
"You have to be brain dead if you expect me to…" Quito stopped as Dinua charged her rifle again. "Okay, okay, okay.
"You heard Overd, Xesh Five," Doran said lightly.
Quito let out a resigned sigh and began to flutter down the hallway, both Dinua and Doran a few steps behind. They reached their destination after a short fifteen minute walk through the spaceport, the corridors practically empty save for a few low-lifes who hadn't been able to get off planet before the Yuuzhan Vong curfew and a few Yuuzhan Vong roughing up said lowlifes in their boredom.
"Go ahead," Dinua gestured with her head towards the door as she and Doran stepped to the side of it.
Quito shot her a sour look but floated over to the door and banged on it. "Open up, bucket-heads. It's me."
A slot in the door opened, and the person inside took note. "Toydarian?"
"Yeah, and I've got a name you know."
"Were you followed?"
"Do I look like an idiot?"
Both Dinua and Doran nodded silently as the lock to the door disengaged. The door opened up and Dinua immediately stuck her blaster in and discharged several rounds.
"Does stealth mean anything to you!" Doran shouted in exasperation as the report of the blasterfire echoed loudly in the near-vacant starport. Quito chose that moment to hurriedly fly off away from the hangar bay, muttering about the craziness of Mandalorians all the while.
"Wanted to blast him before you stopped me," Dinua retorted, stepping over the gold-armored Mando doorman. "And that's one less we have to deal with."
"Yeah, and now they know we're coming." Doran groaned.
No sooner had they reached the ship's berth than a hail of plasma and laser fire sprayed out, blowing holes in the durasteel wall and forcing them to take cover around the nearest corner.
"Told you," Doran panted, back against a wall. Holding his rifle to him, he glanced at Dinua. "I thought you wanted to try things my way?"
"Shut up," Dinua said almost petulantly. "Ideas?"
"One," Doran activated the holocom he had taken from the Toydarian gunrunner and called the last outgoing frequency. "Hello, hello, this is the guy you're shooting at. Evil, sadistic Mandalorian leader please answer."
"You're going to talk our way out of this?" Dinua said in exasperation.
"Hey, my way, remember?" Doran said.
"He's not even going to…."
"You're supposed to be dead," Overd's image appeared in Doran's palm.
"Just out of curiosity, are you hiding in your ship and letting your men do your fighting, or are you shooting at us along with the others?" Doran ignored his comment.
"I am of Clan Rook."
"Which tells me absolutely nothing," Doran said lightly.
"Only a coward would be in his ship and let his men fight for him."
"Okay, so you're in your ship," Doran said cheerfully.
Overd Rook let loose a long string of Mandalorian, to which Doran glanced over to his supercommando-in-training friend.
"Mostly curse words and things he'll do to you when he gets his hands on you," Dinua provided stonily.
"Okay. Look, Mr. Rook, can I call you Mr. Rook? I'll pretend you're a brave, badass Mandalorian who doesn't need to make himself feel more manly by beating up a defenseless teenage girl, and believe you're out there with your men. If that's so, I want all of Mr. Rook's underlings to listen up. Dinua Jeban is still alive and very angry with Mr. Rook right now. Now, I'm sure you can blast the both of us with no effort, but then that's not very sporting right? Mr. Rook has wronged Dinua, and by your law, she has a right to seek satisfaction. If you guys are real, honorable Mandalorians, which I know you are, you'll let Dinua challenge Mr. Rook to a fight in the fighting circle; ancient Mando rules apply. That means no armor, no blasters, no outside interference, only vibroblades. Unless, of course, Mr. Rook is too scared that a girl he tortured for four days straight can still beat him?"
There was a long moment of silence, then Overd inclined his head. "Challenge accepted. You can come out. On my word, we will not open fire."
"Great, see you in a little bit." Doran deactivated the comm and smirked at Dinua who was against the opposite wall. "See."
"See what?" Dinua said, her voice soft. "Dik…Doran, I know you see me as some unstoppable Mando, but you were right about me being in no condition to fight in a duel. Just gripping this blaster, or moving too quickly, hurts like anything. If Overd manages to overpower me and…"
Doran disengaged himself from the wall and gently gripped her head with both hands, holding her gaze. "Do you trust me?"
Wide-eyed, Dinua nodded silently.
Doran closed his eyes, letting the Force flow from him and into her.
"What are you doing?" Dinua whispered hoarsely, dropping the rifle and reaching up to grip both his wrists.
"Ancient Force technique I learned last yearish," Doran muttered, keeping focused on her. "A group of Force-sensitive primitives on this Outer Rim planet had one heck of a fighting force and was dominating more technologically advanced neighboring civilizations. When my mom and I went to investigate, we learned that they were using the Force to create Berserker-like soldiers. Completely immune from pain, natural reflexes augmented so that even non-Force sensitives could dodge blaster bolts."
Dinua let out a breath, her hands gripping his wrists tighter in reflex. "Oh, wow."
"Not to mention a release of adrenaline and other hormones to kick-start the body," Doran said clinically.
"More please," Dinua panted, her pupils dilated. It felt as though every single ache in her body had just vanished, leaving an almost euphoric sensation coursing through her.
"Major downside though," Doran said, still focusing on the technique. "Any pain, injuries, strains, you receive like this will hurt really bad when it's over. You'll also sleep like crazy because your body's literally overclocking itself. Believe me, I had it done to me when the primitives pressed me into their service. But I figured, getting a leg-up on Overd will be worth it."
"Definitely," Dinua gasped.
Doran let his hands fall away, and he staggered backwards, sagging against the wall behind him.
"Doran?" Dinua frowned, grabbing his arm before he could topple over.
"Very draining," Doran smiled weakly. "Good thing I'm already useless in a fight."
Dinua's expression softened and she hugged him gently. "Not useless, di'kut, just nearly useless."
"Feel so much better," Doran chuckled. He fished out the vibroblade he had taken from the sniper and handed it to Dinua. "Come on. That high wears off pretty quickly if it isn't maintained. I think you have only five or ten minutes or so before your body realizes it's supposed to be hurt."
"Don't worry," Dinua took the blade, a new fire in her eyes. "This will be over quickly."
Dinua supported him as they both rounded the corner, though she made it look like he was the one supporting her. The surviving members of Overd's gang were in a semi-circle in front of their ship's boarding hatch. Rook was standing in the middle of the semi-circle in a simple cloth pants, a vibroblade in each hand. Seeing the still healing bruises on Dinua's face, and the way she appeared to be leaning heavily on Doran, a cocky smirk flickered across Overd's face.
"Leading a nerf to the slaughter, Doran Sarkin-Tainer," Overd remarked.
Doran managed to stay standing as Dinua moved with an exaggerated limp into the circle. "No kidding."
Overd stared at Dinua for a long moment, his eyes taking in her entire body. "Surrender now, Jeban, and I'll go easy on you next time."
Dinua spat at the Mandalorian. "Are we going to fight or talk?"
Overd chuckled and stretched his arms out, nodding to the other Mandos watching. "You can barely move, Jeban. But if you insist."
Dinua's next movement was a blur. It was as if she hadn't been injured at all as she lunged forward in a burst of motion. Overd, who had kept his stance casual in anticipation of an easy fight, never had a chance. He tried to side-step and avoid Dinua's charge, but the athletic Mando-teen had dropped low beneath his guard. Her vibroblade slashed twice, and Overd toppled forward to his knees as his Achilles tendons were cut. Before he realized what was happening, she gripped one of his hands with one of her own, and another slice had him dropping the vibroblade. Flailing, Overd lashed out with his opposite arm. But Dinua avoided it, grabbed his head, and kneed him in the face. While he reflexively reached for his face, Dinua grabbed his opposite arm and severed the tendons in it as well.
Barely a second later, she had grabbed his head and had her blade poised at his throat. Her arm shook, her breath coming out in hard pants and sweat beading on her forehead as she glared at the Mandalorian. "Yield."
"What are you waiting for, shoot her and the brat!" Overd yelled at his men.
The other Mandalorians somewhat half-heartedly brought their guns to bear. Overd, through a bloodied lip, grinned at Dinua. "Should have brought more than just your boy-toy, Jeban. A real aliit wouldn't die just like that."
"It's a good thing she has one then," Doran spoke up.
"You don't count, boy," Overd said disdainfully.
"Told you," Doran said to Dinua.
"They're about to blast us, and you make a joke?" Dinua said faintly.
"Didn't I also tell you that it wasn't just me trying to save you from these guys?" Doran said casually, feeling a familiar presence in the Force. "If they fire, they're just as dead."
"You and what army?" Overd sneered.
"This one," Doran pointed up as the ceiling to the hangar was blown open. When Overd's people aimed upwards at the supposed threat, a rush of people came in through the doorway with guns at the ready.
"Su'cuy, Jeban," Tracyn, in her black Mando-armor, greeted, wielding a blaster in each hand. "You and the di'kut look like osik."
"Really have to blow our cool opening by announcing us like that?" Jintar said, a plasma-rifle of his own aimed at the Rook Mandalorians.
"We were really going for that nice dramatic rescue," Ghes Orade agreed, blaster at the ready.
One of the Rook Mandalorians stupidly decided to pull the trigger, but before the action was completed, a long-distance shot blew through the man's helmet and dropped him like a sandbag.
"Ram says hi," Hera said casually, strolling into the hangar. "Love the new hair-style, Jeban."
Overd wasn't cowed. "We still outnumber…"
He trailed off. At Tracyn's signal, a dozen black-armored, Gedyc-faction Death Watch Mandalorians deactivated their stealth belts. She placed a hand on canted hip. "Remember these guys? We kicked your shebse pretty good the last time we met."
The rest of Overd's group quickly threw down their arms and raised their hands high.
Dinua blinked wildly at the reinforcements, her mouth wide open. "What…how…?"
Tracyn casually sauntered to the bewildered younger teen, pistol-whipping Overd on the way. "This waste of air decided to pick a fight with your aliit, Jeban. He's just learned how very bad an idea that is. True Mandalorians would understand that family is more than blood. Who you choose, who you want defining you, now that is a real family."
"And now, in the end, he's finally figuring out that messing with this particular family is suicide," Jintar said.
"Hairless Wookie Two. That's what I said," Tracyn glanced over to Jintar.
"I know, I just said it cooler."
Dinua felt tears escaping her eyes as she smiled and looked to each of them. "Thank you, all of you."
Jintar walked up and handed Dinua a plasma pistol. "You're welcome. Jeban. Now let's get rid of this filth and call it a day. You and Doran could use some quality time in the med-bay. The Kyr'tsadika wasn't kidding when she said the two of you look like osik."
Dinua gripped the pistol and looked at Overd's beaten form. Slowly, she extended her arm, aiming the barrel at her tormentor. She closed her eyes and knew that all she had to do was pull the trigger. Pull the trigger and Overd's life would be over. He was on the ground, blood from multiple wounds soaking the tunic he was wearing. Despite losing, defiance still shown in his eyes, as if goading her to finish the job.
She breathed in, breathed out.
And then made her choice.
FtF Chapter End FtF
A\N: One last chapter in this story arc to go. I have two more arcs planned out and am working on the next one, no idea when it will be ready for posting. Next chapter, next week!
