Keldabe, Mandalore

Fenn Shysa dragged his eyes away from the bolo game on the holoscreen. The tapcafe was busy, customers came and went, he paid no attention until he heard his name. The two Mandalorians looking for him were speaking in the Concordian dialect.

He took another sip of the ale without tasting it, and watched over the rim of the glass as they removed their helmets and started towards him. He knew the old man's face, he was a clan chieftain from the far side of Concord Dawn. His stomach tightened uncomfortably. Nothing but trouble seemed to come from Concord Dawn these days.

"A word, Mand'alor?"

"Verlen Bard," he said, without a trace of the anxiety brewing inside him. "How are ya?"

"Well enough." He gestured at the younger man beside him. "You remember my niece, Hira? This is the boy she married, Corr Kundun."

"A pleasure," Fenn said with an easy smile, gesturing to the bartender. "Sit yourselves down and have a drink."

"We've had more Alliance come," Bard said abruptly, and the pain in Fenn's stomach grew worse.

"Causalities?"

"No. They sent an Ambassador this time. A human female called Leia Organa."

"The Princess?" Fenn was immediately surprised and pleased. "They're showing some sense for once. She was here before, ya know. Steady hands and a real talent for fightin' the Empire, that one." The bartender brought over two mugs of ale and retreated while Fenn considered this news. "How did she end up in your neck o' the wilderness instead of here?"

Verlen and Corr exchanged a brief look. "Might want to ask Boba Fett," the older man said, and took another drink of ale.

"Osik," Fenn flinched, recalling that the last time he'd seen the lovely young rebel, she'd said something about killing the bounty hunter with her bare hands. "Ya did say no causalities?"

Verlen's brows raised. "She's been there for almost three weeks. If she wanted him dead, she probably could have killed him in his sleep by now."

He caught the implication, of course, but it was simply not a leap Fenn's mind could make without help. "Ya can't be serious."

"It's a small town," Verlen said gruffly. "Hard to miss a thing like that."

Fenn was speechless, not a state he often found himself in. After a long pause, Verlen continued. "I didn't come all this way to gossip. It's none of my business who Fett shares his bed with, except when it's with the Alliance. Too much of a coincidence, after that business with Leebin."

Averting his gaze, Fenn toyed with his empty glass. "Ya think he's working for them now?"

"Maybe not. But one minute he's packing up to leave, and then this ambassador shows up and suddenly he's staying and acting more Mando than usual."

"Maybe it's true love?" Even as he said it, Fenn had a hard time believing it. Bard gave a dismissive snort, and Corr looked amused.

"Maybe he's looking for a new career path. Might want to watch your back, Mand'alor."

Fenn shook his head in response. He hesitated a moment before speaking. "It wouldn't be such a bad thing to have a Fett Mandalore again, would it?"

Bard was silent, then a grim smile creased his face. "You were just a kid when Jango was Mandalore, Shysa. Has it ever occurred to you that you got stars in your eyes for something that never was?"

"For something that could be," Fenn offered persuasively. "Tell me honestly, ya ever seen a fiercer, smarter fighter?"

"I haven't," Corr responded, and Bard gave him a stern look.

"Shut your mouth. Nobody asked you."

"I'll hear him," Fenn insisted, sensing an ally. "Every being in the galaxy who knows Boba Fett's name knows enough to fear him. We could use a little o' that, couldn't we?"

Bard was clearly not happy. "Is this how a Core piece of osik like Aleek Leebin wound up on my side of Concord Dawn? Bait?"

Fenn took a sip of his ale, avoiding the old man's hard gaze. "You're of a suspicious mind, anyone ever tell ya that?"

"He ran to the one place Boba Fett couldn't go, and all of the sudden the Protectors are willing to forgive and forget a lifetime exile sentence. That your doing too?"

"I don't play that way," Fenn protested. "When have I ever pulled rank?"

"If the stories are true, only once. The last time Fett was on Concord Dawn, wasn't it?"

"Haar'chak," Fenn muttered, pretending to be distracted by the boloball game. "That was nearly seventeen years ago. I had no say in it this time, I swear to ya."

Bard took a long drink of ale. "But the woman," he said. "The Ambassador. She's not part of this."

"I'm as surprised as you by that, possibly a bit more," Fenn added dryly. "Last time I saw her, she was all hung up on some space pirate who earned himself in a ride in Fett's cargo hold." He paused. "Does he seem happy?"

"As much as he ever does," Bard grunted. "He's a Fett. They breed grim."

"The ambassador seems happy," Corr offered bravely. "Hira's been teaching her some Mando fighting. Says she's a tough little thing."

"She is that," Fenn recalled, smiling. "If she's peddlin' for the Alliance, I'm inclined to listen to her pitch. Ya think anyone will have a problem with that?"

"Some will. Me, I'm coming to see the advantages." Bard shifted in his seat. "She talks sense," he said shortly. "She's motivated to make it work. That's not hard to see. Fett's motivations are the ones I'm worried about."

There was a second or two of silence, and then Fenn shrugged. "Let me worry about that," he said. "If nothing changes, I'll be down to check out the situation in a month or two."