Empire Of Dirt
Darvannis
Command Tent of Mand'alor the Avenger
Verin gripped the edge of the table to keep from launching himself at Khomo. He'd been called to the command tent in Torian's absence. Verin couldn't understand why everyone assumed he was qualified to speak for the alor, but it had become increasingly common during the past few weeks. Keshal had suggested that they'd seen the same steadfast nature that she had. Verin figured it was more likely that he made a better fallguy.
"Oh, how future generations will sing songs of our brothers' sacrifice against the spawn of production line fifteen alpha," Khomo continued to mock, lips twisting in a satisfied smirk when Torian stormed into the tent. The man looked more furious than Verin had ever seen, barely stopping short of Khomo's toes. Verin noticed the distance that Fynta put between them and wondered what his little sister could have done to piss off such a laid back Mandalorian.
"They're dead," Torian spat, glaring into Khomo's eyes while the older man taunted him with a half grin.
"Except they're not," Shae interrupted with an exasperated growl. Verin groaned inwardly when her gaze settled on Fynta. He wondered if anyone would notice one less Mandalorian in the tent; maybe he could slip out the back before they forced him to choose a side. "You didn't concentrate your firepower. We'll pay for that tomorrow."
Fynta folded her arms, and Verin prepared himself for the tirade he saw building behind her eyes. "You sent troops to take the generator down at the same time I was firing on the site?" Fynta's voice sounded incredulous, and furious. "That was your strategy, to kill off good soldiers?"
"Don't pretend you could do better," Shae snapped. Some emotion flashed across Fynta's face. It was gone almost too quick to catch, and Verin was sure he'd been the only one to notice. A bitter memory had buried itself under her skin. Even after all these years, Fynta would make him dig it out with a knife before finally admitting what bothered her.
Shae sighed and rubbed her temples. "There are no generals left, simply warriors trying to survive." Khomo snorted, but Shae ignored him and pinned Fynta with a stern glare."You want in on the planning? Fine. We'll regroup in the morning, once the troops are fresh. You've earned a voice at the table."
Matter closed, Shae turned towards her men with a scowl. Verin had to resist averting his eyes. Shae looked a lot like their mother when she wore that expression, and the little boy in him wanted to scurry away. The warrior respected her too much to show weakness. "I don't care what you do tonight, but make sure your people are ready to go by morning."
Khomo followed, but paused next to Fynta long enough to smirk in her ear. "Think you've still got what it takes to party with Mandalorians, or have you spent too much time among the aruetiise?"
Verin grabbed Fynta's arm before she could lash out, then cast a questioning glance at his clan leader. Torian shrugged. "Rough battle. Probably a rougher party. Should be fun to see what you're made of, Wolfe."
Fynta offered a lopsided grin that didn't reach her eyes. "Gal, ori'skraan, riduur, yaim' dab'ika. I've spent a lot of time with Sith and spies lately. It'll be good to trade war stories with soldiers again."
"Get your best ready, we're tough to impress." Torian met Verin's gaze and winked. They'd talked a lot about his hairbrained little sister over the years, and the alor didn't seem to believe half of what Verin told him. Now that Fynta was here in the flesh, he wondered how long it would take for her to do something stupid and win Verin the bet that no one was supposed to know about. Gauging by the amount of alcohol he'd seen rolled out of the tent, he wouldn't have to wait long.
Pulling her arm free, Fynta punched Verin's shoulder. "Will you be joining us?"
"Eventually," Verin answered, returning her love with an open-handed smack hard enough to make her stumble. "I need to check in with the family, and you should decide what to do about your crew." When Fynta's eyes narrowed, Verin laughed. "Torian mentioned that you'd arrived with a half-naked Jetii. Everyone is curious about her now."
Fynta groaned as they exited the tent. "Maybe bringing Noara was a bad idea."
Verin pulled Fynta to a stop and shook his head. "Mandalorians need to learn how to play nice with the rest of the galaxy. What better time to start than now? Think, Fyn'ika. Forces are uniting against a common enemy. This could change everything."
Fynta's brow rose. "Looking to retire?"
Shrugging, Verin avoided meeting his sister's gaze. He didn't know how to explain the overwhelming fear that tightened his chest every time Tranx left on a supply run. Or the panic that rooted Verin to the spot when it looked like Keshal might go into labor on this accursed planet. He'd spent so long seeking vengeance-for his parents, Cinlat, then Fynta-that a quiet karyai sounded more appealing every year.
"I get it," Fynta whispered, her tone soft enough that no one else could hear. With a squeeze to Verin's arm, she smiled. "I really do."
Verin wondered what had happened in the last few years to make Fynta look so-old. Whatever it was, he knew she wouldn't tell him here. Maybe not ever. Clearing his throat, Verin gave his sister a shove. "Go on, I'll see you later." She answered with an insulting gesture before laughing and turning towards the ship parked at the edge of camp.
While Fynta checked in with her crew, and Torian did whatever Torian did when he slinked off alone, Verin found his family. Keshal complained about missing the party, but let Verin talk her into sleeping after her fourth yawn within the tirade. Tranx waited at the door when Verin emerged from their sleeping area, eyes wide with excitement. "I get to go, right?"
Verin considered his son, hesitated what he deemed the appropriate amount of time to make him look like a responsible father, before nodding. "Be home by midnight, and only two mugs of tihaar, understand?"
"Lek," the boy shouted before darting from the tent.
Verin grinned after Tranx, then set off to find his sister. He assumed Fynta would be in the midst of the party, singing loudly and off tune with the rest of the di'kuts who drank themselves stupid. Making for the largest gathering, Verin spotted Torian standing shoulder to shoulder with a waif of a woman clad in something that wouldn't stop a papercut, much less a blaster bolt. It could only be the Jedi that Verin had heard so much about.
Strolling up to the two, Verin craned his neck to see what had gathered so many Mandalorians. Before he could ask, Torian leaned around the woman. "I'll have the net'ra gal moved to your tent after tomorrow's battle."
Two cases of black ale had been the stakes in their bet. Verin grinned at his chief. "What did she do?"
The woman answered with an amused twist of her lips. "Challenged Khomo. But, what's a koot-tay?"
Torian laughed, then covered it with a cough. "Kute is what we call under armor." His next words were directed at Verin. "Hand to hand, no armor or weapons. If he wins, she'll let him call her an aruetii–outsider," Torian corrected for their guest's benefit. "If she wins, he gives up the crushgaunt."
"Fierfek," Verin spat. That was the last thing he needed. Verin cursed again when his comm chimed. Fishing it from the pocket on his belt, he answered without checking the ID. "I'm a little busy at the moment."
"That's what I was afraid of," Aric answered, and Verin looked down with horror to find Fynta's husband on the line. No, that was the last thing he needed. "Fynta hasn't been answering her comm. Should I ask?"
The Jedi leaned closer to smile at the irritable Cathar. "Probably not. But, I promise, she will come home in one piece."
Verin groaned audibly this time and rubbed a hand down his face. He caught the wary expression that Torian cast around them, reminding Verin that while they'd come a long way, a Cathar would still cause a sensation amongst so many Mandalorians. Especially after copious amounts of alcohol.
"Aric," Verin began. "You knew what you were getting into when you married my sister." He held the device up so that the Cathar could make out two figures circling in the middle of a growing mob. Lowering his comm when he heard the telltale snarl of a man who continuously expected better from a woman who could never deliver, Verin shrugged. "I can't do a damn thing about it."
"Noara, please keep her from getting herself killed," Aric replied, and the woman between Verin and Torian leaned back into the shot to offer a reassuring smile. Focusing on Verin again, Jorgan's shoulders slumped. "Just have her call me when she's done. Or maybe let me know if she's unconscious."
Laughing, Verin nodded. "You've got it." When the line cut, he hooked the holo to his belt and focused on the fight. "So, who's your credits on?"
Darvannis
1900 Hours (Local Time)
Torian winced when Fynta slammed into the dirt. The woman knew how to take a beating, but she hadn't learned when to back down. If someone didn't call an end to this fight soon, neither the Alliance commander nor the leader of Clan Fett would be worth osik in the coming battle.
To the best of Torian's knowledge, Fynta had only drunk what had been offered whenever she stumbled into the crowd. Tradition held that if she could keep her feet, she would still be considered good to fight. Her shouted insults had become slurred, but not as noticeably as Khomo's. The chief's laughter had ratcheted up in volume, but his attacks were as sharp as when the fight began.
"She's got endurance," Torian mused, stroking his jaw while watching her footwork. "Not sure I recognize that style, though."
"Fynta kind of makes it up as she goes," Verin answered, offering Torian and Noara another mug of Tihaar.
Torian accepted, impressed by the amount their Jedi companion had put away. He glanced at the woman, then nodded towards the spectacle. "You say this isn't unusual?"
Noara shook her head. "Fynta can always be found on the firing range or in the gym." She took a deep drink of tihaar, shivered, then smacked her lips. "This is nothing compared to what Darth Kozen or Senya do to her."
Torian mulled that over, wondering if Fynta was toying with Khomo for a better show. She didn't appear to notice the howls of her audience, but fought harder the louder they cheered. Either she was a hell of an actress, or unconsciously driven by the atmosphere. "So, where do you play into this?"
Noara let out a shout when Fynta leapt onto Khomo's back and grabbed his ears. The chief cursed and spun in an attempt to sling her away. Torian hadn't expected a Jedi to get so caught up in fighting for sport, and found himself more than a little curious about the tiny woman. "I'm one of the few Force users that Fynta can tolerate, and she needed someone along to represent the non-Mandalorian side of our Alliance." Noara paused, then wrinkled her nose. "The a-roo-tee? Plus, she thinks I'm cute."
Torian huffed a laugh before returning his attention to the fight when a roar of approval traveled through the crowd. Khomo had managed to unseat Fynta and had her pinned between his knees while she protected her face. Not that it did much good. The woman's nose was bleeding, but she'd given Khomo a gash above his eye that would likely be an ugly bruise in the morning.
"This might go on forever," Verin yawned. "He'll have to kill her to win. And I'm not sure that he's any less stubborn."
"You're not wrong," Noara answered, brow furrowed in thought. She lifted a hand, then looked to Torian for permission. "I could put an end to it."
Acting on instinct, Torian pushed Noara's hand down. "Better not. Using the Force to influence a fight won't ingratiate you to anyone here."
In the next moment, Shae's voice bellowed over the crowd. "What in the seven Corellian hells is wrong with you two?" She kicked Khomo off of Fynta, then planted her boot on the woman's stomach to keep her from going after him. "That's enough, show's over."
Torian smirked, knowing full well the earful Shae would unleash on the two warriors. Verin shook his head, then yawned again. "I'm too old for this osik. I'm going to find my boy and turn in for the night." His gaze went to Noara. "Do me a favor and make sure Fynta calls Aric? If he wakes up Keshal, there will be hell to pay."
"No problem," Noara laughed, waving Verin off. She looked at the sky, then frowned into her empty mug. "I should probably turn in too, she'll stumble back to the ship eventually." The Jedi held her cup out to Torian. "Thanks for showing me around, and keeping me company tonight. I think Fynta forgot about me."
Torian tipped his head. "The commander does seem to have a one-track mind. Know your way back to the ship?" Noara offered a nod, but it was the sweet smile that caught Torian's attention. Mandalorian women simply weren't capable of that amount of softness. It had an unexpected effect on Torian, one he preferred not to think about.
"See you in the morning. Good luck with that," Noara added with a wave towards where Shae flapped her arms at the two less than somber warriors.
"Yeah," Torian muttered. "Thanks." He watched Noara vanish into the shadows before grabbing an extra mug and settling on an ammo crate to wait for Fynta. Judging by the reddening of Shae's face, and the stupid grin on Fynta and Khomo's, he might be waiting a while.
Eventually, the Mand'alor released her captives, and Khomo clapped Fynta on the shoulder. He pressed a gauntlet into her hands, then turned to address his clansmen. The rowdy bunch greeted him with tihaar and cheers, sweeping into a larger tent where loud music still played.
Fynta spied Torian a moment later and sauntered over to flop onto the box beside him. She grabbed one of the mugs without checking its contents and tipped her head back. "It's good to scrap again," she remarked without prompting. "Kozen and Senya are too wrapped up in their forms. Sometimes, you just have to brawl."
"Our people need battle to find out what we are. A Mando without war is like a starship without space." Torian nodded to the gauntlet Fynta cradled in one arm. "However, Verin thinks you orchestrated the whole thing just to get that."
Fynta lowered her cup with a grin. "Not the whole thing. I really did want to beat the osik out of Khomo." Setting aside her mug, she stroked her prize in an obscene way that made Torian laugh. "When I saw this baby, I knew what the stakes had to be."
"Those are illegal in the Republic," Torian reminded her. "Not worried about being discharged?"
Fynta gave Torian a droll expression. "I was declared KIA five years ago. Not a whole lot more they can do to me." Her gaze drifted out over the camp, watching shadows move in and out of view of the firelight. "Besides, I doubt we'll go back after this."
Torian nodded. It had been a long war, and people like them had met the battlefield long before Zakuul made its presence known. He planned to let the subject drop, but could tell by the way Fynta's jaw tightened that something was on her mind. "Might as well spit it out," he sighed. When Fynta's head snapped around, Torian grinned. "Verin does that, too. I've never seen two siblings act so much alike."
Fynta snorted a tired laugh, then cleared her throat. "You and I are going out again tomorrow. Shae wants a small, two-man team to sneak into the factory for my objective while the clans keep the attention off us." Torian nodded, waiting for Fynta to get to the point. "I don't leave men behind, Torian. If you've got a problem with that, tell me now, and I'll bring one of my people."
Torian leaned against the wall his crates were stacked against and folded his arms. "What happened earlier had nothing to do with leaving men behind. I don't think you've been gone so long that you've forgotten our ways. If those men–"
Fynta waved a hand, cutting Torian off. Leaning forward, she removed a datapad from the bag that contained the rest of her armor. He watched her flick the device on and scroll through various options before giving a satisfied nod. When Fynta turned it around, there was a picture of a group of soldiers, mostly aliens, with her in the middle. "This was my Havoc Squad," she began. "Valkorion took them from me, including my husband."
Another flick, and the image showed a much younger group in matching armor. "While I was frozen in carbonite, they scattered my aliit and placed Jorgan in charge. Last week, we had an op scheduled on Zakuul. His Havoc would sneak in and gather the intel we needed while my squad kept them distracted. Foolproof. Only I wasn't there."
Fynta swallowed and turned the device to face her again. Her fingers tightened around the edge to the point that both shook. Her voice wavered as she studied the image. "Four of those soldiers didn't come home. I failed them, and my husband nearly lost everything. I couldn't stand by and let that happen again."
Taking a deep breath, Fynta powered down the datapad and slipped it back into the bag. "Those soldiers taking the shield generators today, they weren't numbers to me. I couldn't see past the widows and orphans." Her jaw tensed with the next words. "I'd make the same choice again, damn their honor."
Torian let the silence stretch, sensing Fynta's guilt and knowing there was more to it than fallen soldiers. "How is he?"
Fynta shook her head. "Aric lost everyone, how do you think?" The woman ran a frustrated hand down her face. "I don't know how to help him."
Leaning back, Torian crossed his arms. "Made love yet?" Anywhere else in the galaxy, that would've gotten him slapped, but not here. While Mandalorians were private people, clan was family. Torian knew that Fynta would never join while married to a Cathar, but being Verin's little sister made her Torian's, too. He was the clan chief, so it fell to him to aid in whatever way possible.
"That's not Aric's way," Fynta answered without hedging. "Sex doesn't work the same way for him."
"Didn't say sex," Torian corrected. When Fynta's brows furrowed, he laughed. "You're one of those hard and fast types, aren't you?"
Fynta offered another snort, this one accompanied by rolled eyes. "Now, you sound like Aric."
"Then, you should listen," Torian shot back. He picked up Fynta's now empty mug and placed it with his and Noara's to be collected later. "Your riduur is telling you what he needs, but it's up to you to make it happen."
Fynta opened her mouth to speak, then snapped it shut. "Shab, I never thought about it like that." She chewed on her lip, then grinned. "Thanks, alor. So, are we good?"
Fynta's actions in the field could cause the deaths of a dozen more vode than they'd have lost earlier. There was nothing to do about it now. They'd have to fight harder tomorrow, and now that Torian understood Fynta a little better, he knew she would too. Offering his hand, Torian nodded. "Cuy at'ruyot."
"Good." Fynta squinted into the darkness, then slid her eyes towards Torian. "So, I saw that you made nice with my Jedi tonight. How'd it go?"
"Saw that, did you?" Torian answered with an equally taunting smirk. "She's an interesting woman. I can see why you like her." Fynta chuckled, but let the matter drop. Torian found that he wanted to ask more about the Jedi, but not at the risk of Fynta's teasing. From what he'd seen so far, she was enough like Verin to make him wary.
The party began to wind down with fires stamped out and drunken singing echoing through the camp. A smile slowly returned to Fynta's features, and Torian made a shooing motion at her. "Go call your Cathar, vod. He's been worried about you."
"He does that." Fynta stood with a wince. "Shab, Khomo might have been a mistake."
Torian chuckled as he watched Fynta hobble toward her ship on stiffening muscles. She'd look like hell tomorrow, but she'd have his back regardless of what they faced. He could respect the commander's dilemma between accomplishing their goal and saving as many as possible. Sighing, Torian pushed to his feet. They would all do what they had to, no matter the cost.
Odessen
Commander's Quarters
Aric stared at the pieces of his disassembled sniper rifle and tried not to look at the chrono. There had been a lot of noise in the background, and judging by what little Verin's holo had shown him, Fynta was the center of attention. A small part of Jorgan wondered if she had forgotten him, then he scolded himself for being so clingy. Fynta was doing her job the only way she knew how, by jumping into the thick of it.
More than five years of thinking his wife dead, then another two months of living with a stranger, had made Jorgan edgy. Fear lingered in the back of his mind. What if the slightest misstep caused her newly returned memories to vanish? Aric couldn't go through that again.
The comm chimed, causing Jorgan to drop the dowel he'd been using to clean the barrel. Fumbling, Aric managed to accept the call on the third ring, breathing a sigh of relief when Fynta appeared on his desk. "How's the party?" His voice barely shook as he positioned the comm on his desk, but Fynta's looked too bleary-eyed to notice.
Fynta blew air between her lips as she flopped onto the bed and pulled her shirt over her head. She winced, then laughed. "I got a new gauntlet. Won it off a real bastard, even you would have been pleased."
Jorgan studied his wife, noting the discoloration around her eye and the dark track smeared across the lower half of Fynta's face. She took more damage from her scuffle during the party than the mission itself. Overall, Jorgan found that preferable. "How about the op?"
Fynta leaned back to kick off her shoes, then wiggled out of her pants. Aric smiled, feeling the tension in his chest ease just knowing that she was safe aboard the ship and preparing for bed. Returning to an upright position, Fynta tugged at her hair tie. "We made progress. But, I won't find out the final plan until tomorrow. Shea wasn't happy with me tonight."
"What did you do?" Aric set aside the rifle parts and moved into their room to get comfortable for what he hoped would be a long conversation. He hadn't slept more than a couple of hours since Fynta left, none of them consecutively.
"Saved Clan Chorn instead of taking out the shield generators." Fynta sighed, then met Jorgan's eyes through the holo. "I couldn't sacrifice that many people, not again."
They sat in silence for several minutes before Aric cleared his throat. He couldn't comment on the sacrifice of soldiers, not yet. "I miss you," he replied instead. Aric didn't even mind the weakness in his voice. Even less when Fynta edged closer.
"I miss you too, riduur." Those words shattered the shell of doubt that he'd built around himself in her absence. Fynta cleared her throat. "So, you talk to Shillet again?"
Aric's ears perked up. This was the first time that Fynta had asked about his adopted daughter since they'd met on the holo, since Fynta had learned that she would be expected to fill a role that she wasn't ready for. "Briefly, this morning before school."
Fynta's brow creased. "I thought Elara gave them the week off." Aric had thought the same, and when he'd contacted his old friend, she told him that Shillet wanted to get back to a normal life. Aric didn't buy that, neither it seemed, did Fynta.
"You don't think she's planning something, do you?" Aric's brow lifted in question. Of course he did, but how could Fynta possibly know that? She smiled. "You said that she reminded you of me." Fynta shrugged. "It's what I'd do. Elara's distracted right now; the perfect time to sneak away from school."
Sighing, Aric nodded. "I've already warned Elara. She'll keep a close eye on her." The fact that Shillet was thinking like Fynta at such a young age made Aric want to curse. He'd known the little Nautolan was obstinate, but having Fynta back to compare with sent a chill up his spine. It was bad enough trying to rein in Fynta as an adult, being responsible for raising one might be his undoing.
"You know," Fynta began. Aric watched as she chewed her lower lip, a sign that she was uncertain of how to put her thoughts into words. He gave her time, knowing that Fynta wouldn't speak until she'd sorted herself. When she sighed, Aric tensed. "You can pass on my frequency, if you like. I don't know if she'd be interested in talking to me, but..."
"Thanks," Aric picked up before Fynta could become more awkward. He knew how much this situation made her uncomfortable, and he appreciated the effort. "Maybe after you get home? It wouldn't do for Shillet to call during a battle. She'll think you're ignoring her and-"
"Then, I won't ignore it." Fynta sat straight on the bed, nodding more to herself than him. "I'll answer, no matter what."
Aric chuckled and leaned back on the bed, arms behind his head. "Even if it's in the middle of a brawl?"
Grinning, Fynta crossed her heart. "No more brawls, promise."
Aric snorted and rolled his eyes. "Now, you really do sound like Shillet. I don't know what I'm going to do when the two of you are on the same planet."
Fynta laughed with a wink. "We'll keep your life interesting, riduur." Even though Aric brushed her threat off, a part of him hoped that she was right. Nothing would destroy him faster than if his wife and daughter didn't get along. He couldn't choose; he was committed to both.
Fynta yawned, and Aric checked the chrono. "It's late. Take some pain tabs before you go to sleep, or you'll be sore in the morning."
"Sure thing, dad," Fynta mocked as she reached out of view of the camera. "I'll call you as soon as I'm free tomorrow. Shae wants to get an early start."
"Be careful," Aric said, fighting down that fear that her presence had dissipated. He didn't want to let her go, but couldn't keep her any longer. "Fynta?" She looked up with a smile, eyes shining with life even through the monochromatic image. "I love you."
"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum," Fynta replied with a serious expression. It took Aric a moment to place the phrase. He'd never heard it spoken before, but had read those words until he had them memorized.
Aric grinned, a full smile that displayed every sharp tooth he possessed. "I pronounced a few of those wrong," he admitted. "It's good to finally hear them." That final letter from so many years ago had been the only balm for his ravaged heart for too long. Hearing them on her lips made him lightheaded with joy.
Fynta laughed. "I should have said them long ago." She yawned again, then leaned back on the bed. "Tomorrow?" Aric nodded, knowing that they needed to disconnect, but wanting to extend their time more. "Good night, riduur. Sleep well."
The image faded, leaving Aric alone in their room. He looked around the alien space, then shivered. He couldn't sleep here, not without Fynta. Grabbing her pillow, Aric savored his wife's scent as he headed for the couch. At least that way, he could pretend she was in the bed. That he wasn't alone on a base filled to capacity.
Mando'a:
aruetiise: Outsiders
Gal, ori'skraan, riduur, yaim' dab'ika: Beer, big eats, good company and return to camp
karyai: main living room of a traditional north Mandalorian house - a single big chamber for eating, talking, resting, and even the last secure stronghold when under attack
Lek: yeah, got it
di'kut: idiot
Cuy at'ruyot: It's in the past
Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum: I hold you in my heart forever. "I love you" but more.
Chapter title from Hurt by Of Verona
