Weeks had passed before Torian could secure a contract of any real importance for their small crew, and in that time Gursan's grasp of the Mando language improved significantly with only a few mispronunciations or moments of hesitation to work through the correct words or phrases in his head first. He was adjusting well to his new language and the crew spoke it exclusively to each other – only resorting to Galactic Basic if they were dealing with non-Mandalorians.

Over those few weeks, the crew had spent their time collecting a few easy bounties on petty criminals or deadbeats who owed gambling debts, and occasionally transporting 'grey market' items between planets in Wild Space or the Outer Rim for those who had the credits to purchase them.

The Mandalorian rationale and objectivity applied to their employment opportunities impressed Gursan.

Those who could not negotiate or honor their debts deserved no sympathy and were hauled back to whoever brokered the bounty to be dealt with - theirs was a mission to apprehend, return, and collect credits when the contract was fulfilled. Grey market cargo was simply reasoned as products that were legal on most worlds and desired by buyers who could afford the credits to pay someone else to take the risk of transporting these items of a... questionable, but not illegal, nature.

Despite the fluid nature of their willingness to take jobs, smuggling Spice was an unquestioned forbidden - it was universally regarded as a black-market narcotic by the galaxy and Torian claimed no Mandalorian would lower themselves to get involved with it.

Their new contract seemed easy enough – a Hutt of no real importance claimed an artifact he saw at another Hutt's Stronghold belonged to his family and he wanted it returned, so they accepted the contract to liberate the item. The Mando objectivity to the entire recovery operation was quickly reconciled with a brief search of the HoloNet, which revealed the artifact belonged to some Sith family deep inside Imperial space, so neither Hutt had a right to claim it as their own.

In between these jobs, there were hours upon endless hours sparring in the ship's hold to hone their skills for battle.


Gursan slammed down hard onto the ship's deck, flat on his back and winded.

The sounds of the jeers and laughter from the other crew who were watching echoed in his ears. The Mandalorian armor he wore gave no better protection than his Republic or Alliance gear against physical abuse in hand-to-hand combat, but what technology the Mando's had developed in the armor to better dissipate blaster fire and retard lightsaber blades was a mystery.

All anyone would say - usually with a snicker or laugh - was, 'Imp's, Pub's, and their cortosis suits," leaving him to believe the armor plating was much more advanced than anyone knew.

Rolling onto his side he got back to his feet, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to shake of the dull pain that was creeping upwards from the small of his back to meet the throbbing in his shoulder.

"Go again," called out Torian from the stack of crates he watched from, "your last try for today at pinning your opponent, Corr Rachnaar. At least once."

Gursan gritted his teeth and absently reached for where his blaster pistol would normally have been.

His opponent eyed his movement and laughed, "You're too reliant on weapons, Jarma [recruit] Rachnaar," she taunted.

Frustrated piled upon frustration at the crew not calling him Corr – his chosen Mandalorian name, he narrowed his gaze and squared his jaw at the woman.

He and Raena Sedaga were regularly paired together since she stood a half head shorter than him and was the closest match to his height and physical presence. The female human's deep brown eyes, now fixed on him and expressing a calm confidence complimented the copper-orange haired that was always pulled back in a tight braid which, with the exception of their daily training exercises when it was pinned up neatly, hung low on her back, reaching her belt-line.

Torian yelled, "Mandalorians - Attack!"

The crew roared and both Gursan and Raena rushed at each other.

"I know who you are, Corr," said Raena as she outmaneuvered his advance in a quick and fluid-like spin and moved behind him.

Gursan felt himself hesitate at the comment and it only took a fraction of a second for his focus to falter as he muttered, "You do?"

"Yes - your form and movements betray a Republic military training," and throwing her arms around him she locked him in a restraining hold, "your too dependent on your blasters, and when that fails you throw your armored ass around in a destructive rage."

"I did serve in the Republic Army for a short period– " Gursan said as he simultaneously threw his arms over his head and let his legs buckle beneath him. The sudden free-fall of his mass dropped him out of Raena's hold, and as quick as his ass hit the deck he reached back with his hands and grabbed her ankles to upset her. As the soles of her boots swung past him he knew she was deck-bound.

Rolling to his side and positioning himself to pounce on her, he discovered Raena had rolled into a crouching position just as quick as she touched the deck and was already lunging at him. Raena caught Gursan square in the chest with her shoulder. Driving him up and onto his back, she straddled his waist and raised her hands over her head, cheering in victory.

"Enough! Everyone back to work on preparations for tomorrow's mission," barked Torian.

Gursan slammed the heel of his fist onto the deck and spat out his words, "This is pointless – with our crew and weapons..."

Torian jumped down from the crates as the cargo deck emptied, while Raena stood and offered her hand to aid Gursan to his feet.

When both were standing Torian said, "Corr, the Mando'ade perfected killing Force Users through advancing their tech and the realization that your intentions are betrayed in the Force well before you act on them, so drawing a pistol at a distance is often futile when facing a Sith or a Jedi. When a Mandalorian Warrior is in close-combat and acting entirely on instinct, there is too little time for an opponent to counter. This is when a Mandalorian is the deadliest."

Standing prone and squaring his shoulder to Raena, Torian said, "Raena. Attack."

Gursan watched as Torian and Raena charged at each other. In a single fluid motion Torian evaded Raena's advance and slammed her down onto deck where he easily pinned the larger, more powerful woman with a grace that rivaled Solasta's cat-like reflexes. Gursan then realized he had been grossly underestimating the young man.

Climbing to his feet and offering Raena a hand, Torian smiled and said, "You still have much to learn. I'm due back on the bridge, so Raena, you will practice this maneuver with Corr."

They both watched the cargo bay door shut behind Torian as he left.

"Show me your attack stance," ordered Raena.

Gursan took up the standard Republic Army combat ready position while Raena walked behind him and snorted aloud at what she saw.

Stepping behind Gursan, she placed her hands on his shoulders and twisted them so they were angled slightly from where an attacker would be and hummed her approval. Pressing her body close against his back, she said, "You stand like a bucket-headed bruiser waiting to drive his shoulder through a herd of Banthas," and sliding one hand down over his hip, she reached into his inseam and pulled his leg to a more natural stance in-line with his newly positioned shoulders.

Her breath heavy in his ear and tickling down over his neck, she whispered, "There are faster ways to become joined to a Mando Clan, than struggling through the Resol'nare."

Eyes wide, Gursan shifted nervously to put a little distance between them but she held fast at the hip with one hand and his shoulder with the other.

Gursan tried to downplay his discomfort by quipping, "I suppose, but Torian isn't really my type," in a cocky tone.

"Then I guess that's good news for other suitors," softly purred Raena into his ear.

Closing his eyes and silently cursing himself for trying to be funny when it was clear the joke back-fired, Gursan said, "I'm already... uh, joined to another."

"I see. Where is this partner of yours, Corr? I see no rings to display your marriage - I think you want me to prove my worth as mate, first."

You might have to prove you are actually a woman beneath all that armor before anything would ever be considered, thought Gursan before smiling and saying, "Let's finish this lesson so I can prove I'm worthy to be a Mandalorian, first."


Uldisa shifted the fussing toddler on her lap while gently cooing, "Della Aurel, please settle down. We're here visiting and you need to sit still just a little while longer."

After several more minutes of Della struggling and disrupting the relaxed atmosphere in Mia and Devin's apartment it was clear she had too much energy to sit still, so Solasta stood and reached out her hands to Uldisa, motioning for for the toddler.

A look of relief appeared on Uldisa's face as she said, "Thank-you," and held up her daughter.

Solasta knelt and let Della explore the room within an arms length while they continued their conversation. Every so often Della would stagger like a miniature drunken dock worker over to where Declan slept in his bassinet to peek inside at Mia's sleeping son or between Mia and Solasta to pat their swollen bellies. Although Della couldn't speak yet, she was aware enough to know something special was going on with both women.

"Why doesn't anyone tell you the first two months of pregnancy is just one long hangover? I've never been so sick, or for so long, in my entire life. Surely this can't be good for the kitling," lamented Solasta, and the others laughed.

Uldisa caught her breath and said, "Only two months? I was sick for my entire first trimester - a whole three months, almost to the day, from when I learned I was pregnant."

"I guess technically I was too, since cathar pregnancies only last six months," said Solasta.

Mia's jaw dropped. "Only six months?" she asked, as she laid semi-reclined with her swollen and pronounced belly dominating her slim frame.

Solasta started to nod as Uldisa said, "I promise you both, in that last month, all you'll wish for is that baby to be out of you."

Mia was already beginning to feel fatigued by the pregnancy, the repeated trips to the refresher every twenty-minutes, trying to navigate safely in her own apartment with the baby girth, and the feeling of being a captive in her own home as a result of the prescribed bed rest. She was thrilled to have Solasta and Uldisa visit every few days to bring speculative observations from around the base – or idle gossip, as Uldisa liked to call it to make Mia blush – and she certainly was thrilled to be pregnant, but she was also ready to just have the baby.

Just three months along now, or half-way to full term, Solasta didn't know any better and was still laughing at Uldisa's comment when Mia asked, "Uldisa - how long after Della was born did you cut your hair?"

"The same day she discovered she could grab a fistful and pull it – hard!" Uldisa exclaimed, which drew a round of laughter from all three women.

The sound of Solasta's datapad chiming interrupted, and she picked it to read the message that had arrived. "The Commander needs me back at the base and I should go before Calypso comes home and finds me here," she said. Uldisa walked over to Della and scooped her up while saying, "We'll go too. This one will need her nap soon, and I'm sure Declan will be waking from his."

Solasta and Uldisa said their good-byes and walked together until they reached the split in the path that would lead one to the base, and the other back to the apartment complexes. Stopping, Solasta handed Uldisa the baby bag she had been carrying while Uldisa cradled her now sleeping daughter over a shoulder.

"Thanks for carrying this form me," said Uldisa before pausing and lowering her voice, and in a solemn voice asked, "How are you doing since... Gursan."

Solasta took a deep breath and said, "His mother has stopped her daily visits to the spot outside the mess hall where Gursan was shot, but now she seems aloof and uninterested in talking to me - I'm guessing she's reached the stage where she blames me for his death. Gursan's father is handling things better, but seems caught between wanting to support me and supporting Gursan's mother. I just hope, it doesn't complicate things for when ..."

"When what?" asked Uldisa, eyebrow raised curiously at why Solasta's words trailed off.

Solasta caught herself before she finished her sentence, almost saying, "when Gursan returns." Instead, she blinked rapidly a few times to gather her thoughts and said, "for when the baby arrives - I'd hate for this kitling to be born into life of guilt or resentment over the loss of her father."

Solasta pressed her forehead to Uldisa's and said, "Thank-you for asking. I'll be fine," before they walked away to their respective destinations.