Forging Mandokar

FtF I FtF

Nearly fourteen year-old Doran Sarkin-Tainer didn't feel anxious or scared for the first time in a long while. Without the added threat of a Yuuzhan Vong fleet in orbit, things on Gargon settled back into a routine of sorts. Not that anyone on Gargon assumed things were business as usual. It had been kind of hard to miss the space battle that had unfolded over the planet. Or forget the fiery sight of the debris that had burnt up in the atmosphere as destroyed Yuuzhan Vong ship parts were caught by Gargon's gravity. After nearly a year of occupation, it was also not hard to miss the lack of Yuuzhan Vong guarding the hallways and spaceport.

And Doran was fast rediscovering that the Mandalorian's own worst enemy was themselves. Devoid of any target to plot and scheme against, the 'crazy warrior-complex' that was within everyone who believed themselves to be a Mandalorian, was on full display.

"You side with them? Those Kyr'tsad and Jedi cowards who dared to try and turn the Vongese against us!?" A voice rang out in the mess hall, accompanied by an overturned table. Eyes in the room only paid the scene a mild glance, watching as a 'tough guy' Mandalorian-in-training lifted up a smaller Mandalorian-in-training by his tunic.

Another table was overturned as the smaller Mandalorian went flying.

"Should we be doing something?" Doran Sarkin-Tainer's 'student' whispered.

In the meantime the 'tough guy' Mandalorian called out to the packed mess hall. "Let it be known that I'm going to personally blast any piece of filth who says even one positive word about Kyr'tsad! They're lying traitors, murderers, and they won't ever change!"

"If you want to do something about it, be my guest," Doran muttered back, focusing on his meal. "The only thing that'll happen is every single muscle-bound moron in this room will group you with Kyr'tsad and try to kill you if they can get away with it."

"Errrr….I'll pass." In the background, the 'tough guy's' buddies were pulling him back, preventing the unfortunate Mando on the ground from needing a visit to the med-bay.

"She's smarter than you were when you first got here, Di'kut," Dinua said dryly, likewise barely paying attention to the scene, or Doran for that matter.

Since Willow's arrival, Dinua had been decidedly frosty towards Doran. Bewildering didn't describe her actions. He and Dinua had gone from a nearly-topless make-out session to barely touching, not-even-hand-holding-in-private. She shot down any attempts at casual conversation, was strictly business whenever they did meet up, and always seemed to have training of her own to attend to whenever he recommended they hung out. In fact, Doran couldn't help but wonder if he had suddenly found himself in the infamous 'friend zone' that he had heard about from so many of the older Mandalorians and spacers. Again Doran had to fault his mom for not giving him lessons into the mind of girls. Tyria had taken him all over the galaxy to learn all sorts of different things, but his lack of experience and knowledge about females was definitely glaring.

It was something that confused the heck out of him. After all, it wasn't his fault that he was Willow's 'instructor'. In the week she had been on Gargon, Willow had been the epitome of a model student; soaking up his stories and all the lessons he was giving her like a sponge. In exchange, she told Doran all about her time on the Bridger Homestead and what it was like to grow up with such a large, unconventional family. More often than not, the two would end their lessons seated on the outer shell of the base just swapping stories and laughs. It was a relief to finally be able to talk to someone about the Force and all the struggles and adjustments he had to make since arriving on Gargon.

The twelve-year old was fun to be around, very bright and curious about everything. During one of their first talks, she had even admitted that enjoyed being around someone her age for a change. On the Bridger Homestead she was the 'in between' child, sandwiched between the nineteen year old Hera Wren and a bunch of seven year olds. Since her lack of physical Force abilities made it harder to keep up with the others back on the farmstead, she tended to shun athletics and 'soldiery' stuff. To pass the time she would read, scour the HoloNet, and train. When he mentioned that the only thing people did on Gargon was 'soldiery' stuff, she just shrugged and said that if he had survived a year, she'd be able to too.

Upon arriving on Gargon, Willow's preferred choice of clothes was the same Mandalorian tunics everyone on base wore, though hers was tied off so that her midriff was showing. Physically, Willow was taller than Dinua, and well, willowy. Willow's limbs were long and gangly, as was her flat torso, which made her small, impish face and pixie hairdo look out out of place. She also wore wire-framed glasses.

Doran had been slightly bemused to learn that Willow used a form of Force glamour in place of regular makeup. Not that she was unpleasant to look at, but the 'prefect' teen who had practically sucked his tongue from his mouth upon first meeting was quite a bit different than her actual self. She had later told him that the glamour itself had been her way to distinguish herself from the other 'children' on the farmstead, an attempt to get Hera and the older generation to take her more seriously. When she realized that Doran wasn't going to treat her like a 'kid,' she began to drop the glamour when they were alone. In public, however, everyone else saw a pixie-haired, developing 'hottie' that had several of the older Mandalorians guiltily questioning their own morality.

"It makes me wonder what Tracyn is up to now," Doran said trying to change the subject. It was hard to believe that it had nearly been a year since he had first stepped foot onto the training compound and bumped into the pint-sized Mandalorian leader.

"You really are a good friend to her," Willow smiled brightly. "Even though she has an army of Mandos at her disposal, you still worry about her."

"She was the first friend I made here," Doran gestured. "In fact, I bumped into her right about there."

"Friends at first sight?"

"Something like that. Some other Mando tried to pick on her and I stepped in."

"And got smacked in the face," Dinua finished the story before Doran could make himself sound more valiant than he actually had been. "Kote was several times his mass, a better fighter. The Di'kut kept his mouth running and nearly had his head knocked off."

"Jintar, a little help here," Doran said, almost in exasperation.

Jintar Skirata quickly took a very long drink from his cup to hide the smirk on his face. "That is kind of what happened, or so the story goes."

"Well I think it was very brave and loyal of you," Willow said, putting a hand on Doran's arm. "Just the sort of thing the person who helped Master Bridger move on would do."

Dinua made a sound at the back of her throat, slamming her fork to the table and standing. "I'm done eating. Doran, don't forget you still have to run Willow through the basic combat forms. I reserved the sparring mat in the main training room. You have it in another hour. Don't be late."

Doran watched Dinua leave, completely nonplussed. For someone who had friend-zoned him, she appeared somewhat jealous. Again, he couldn't figure it out. From the knowing smirks and expressions on the older Mandos around him, however, he had a feeling he was missing something very, very obvious. Vowing to find out what later, he looked to his 'disciple'. "Well, you heard her. Finish eating quickly so we have time to let the food digest."

"Yes sir, boss-man sir," Willow grinned perkily, mock saluting before going back to her food.

"Very good, Recruit Willow," Doran played along. "We'll make a Mandalorian out of you yet."

Jintar set down his own cup and stood, clapping Doran on the shoulder. "Doran, I'm going to do you a big favor and not let you learn a very painful lesson the hard way."

"Errr….thanks?"

"I've seen it happen enough times with Uncle Mereel to know it," Jintar leaned down so that his face was between Doran and Willow's, looping his arms around both their shoulders. "If you're going to two-time a Mandalorian woman, make sure you've already had all the kids you want to have. Then kiss your two best friends goodbye."

Doran made a face. "Why would I kiss you and Dinua?"

"Those aren't the friends I was talking about," Jintar made a blaster pistol with his fingers and pretended to fire at the referred-to target.

Doran's eyes widened comically. "Okay, but why tell me this."

Jintar looked deliberately at Willow, then at Doran with his eyebrows raised. "Just a friendly warning."

"What? Wait! No! You got it all wrong!"

"Then you have nothing to worry about." Jintar cuffed Doran's shoulder affectionately and headed out.

"Jintar! You've got it all wrong!" Doran yelled out at the older teen's retreating form. He hurried to stand, but in doing so got one of his large feet caught on the table-leg. This caused him to reflexively jerk his leg up, banging it on the underside of the mess table. He lost his balance with a yelp, his arms flailing and grabbing onto the nearest thing in an attempt to keep from falling.

Unfortunately the nearest thing happened to be the much lighter Willow. She let out a yelp of her own as they both fell backwards. They hit the floor with a thud, their food trays clattering to the ground on either side of them.

"Di'kut, Skirata said you were going to clarify some….thing." Dinua's voice trailed off. The sight before her leading her to wonder the many possible scenarios—each more unlikely than the last—it took to get there.

"Wait," Doran said quickly, whipping his head around to look behind him. He was on his hands and knees, with Willow more or less pinned underneath. "This isn't what it looks like!"

"You didn't just roughly drag her to the floor in the middle of the mess hall and are not now on top of her?" Dinua said, eyebrows arched.

Doran hastily brushed himself off and scrambled to his feet. "Well, I did….and I am…was…but…"

"Doran was just showing me how to fend off unwanted advances," Willow piped up, likewise getting up. "Right?"

"Errrr…yeah…right."

"He wanted to demonstrate a take-down at a distance, so after I applied a little pressure, he fell for me," Willow added impishly. "When we get to the sparring room he said he'll show me some of his more close-quarters moves, and that it would be my turn to fall for him."

"Wow, you're really two-timing a Mando woman?" Doran heard a whisper from a Mandalorian nearby.

"That's cold, even if it's the Ice Queen herself," another Mandalorian added.

"He definitely has a death-wish." A third whisper could be heard.

"Willow!" Doran rasped hoarsely, feeling as if every eye in the mess was suddenly watching the drama unfold.

"What? You said that you'd teach me some of the moves Dinua showed you. The pins and the other techniques you said would be handy in cramped spaces."

Dinua's face was completely impassive. "You're in luck, Di'kut."

"I…am?"

"My schedule cleared up. As I recall, you were definitely lacking in some important areas the last time I saw you. Especially compared to some of the others here. I'll help make up for any deficiencies and we'll demonstrate them for Willow on the sparring mat. That way you don't have to worry about being too hard on her."

"That's okay," Willow piped up. "Last night, when he was showing me some of the basics, he said he was taking it easy on me. I'm not afraid."

Dinua's expression personified the expression 'if looks could kill'. "Good. Then I will show you what a skilled practitioner of those moves can do at full-speed then. I have heard you are something of a savant in this manner. I'm sure the Di'kut will agree that you will benefit more when neither side has to hold back."

Doran gulped. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

FtF II FtF

I have to pick better friends, Doran mentally decided as he stood on one side of the circular mat. Seated all around were Mandalorians he had met throughout his year-long stay. Ram Zerimar and Ghes Orade had front-row seats, along with Jintar and members of Clan Ordo. Willow, with her slender frame, looked decidedly out of place next to tough-as-durasteel Mandalorians around her. Adding to the pressure, and present much to the bewilderment of Doran, were both of Dinua's adoptive fathers, and a handful of other Mandalorian instructors.

"Dinua," Doran scanned the crowd. "Why is everyone here?"

"They were bored."

"'Bored'?" Doran repeated blankly.

"Nothing to shoot. And you can only spend so much time in the bedroom," Jintar supplied from outside the ring. "Gambling is the next riskiest thing."

"Don't tell me…"

"You're going to make me a very rich man if you win," Jintar smirked back. "Or very, very broke if you lose. So please don't lose. Or if you do lose, last longer than five minutes."

Doran scowled at Jintar, amending his previous thoughts to ensure that any future friends weren't of the 'crazy Mandalorian' variety. Not that he could think of a 'non-crazy' Mandalorian at the moment.

"Hey," Willow called out to Jintar with a glare of her own. "I bet Doran can wipe the floor with her."

"Willow, I appreciate the thought, but please stop," Doran muttered, groaning under his breath. "Dinua only operates on two speeds, deadly and deadlier."

Doran knew that fighting Dinua was a lot different than his knock-down brawl that he had had with Jintar earlier in the year. For one, she was built completely different than their taller, bulkier, friend. As he stepped into the ring, Doran was vividly reminded of his first impression of the dark-haired Mandalorian teen. It had been his first day, heck, his first hour on Gargon, and he had watched her completely demolish a much larger, older Mandalorian recruit. She was barely a year older than he was, didn't have the Force to help her, and she hadn't even broken a sweat.

That was nearly one whole year ago. Dinua had improved so much since then. If he had tried to face her at the start of the year, he doubted he'd even see the blow that would have knocked him out. Even though his time with the Mandalorians had gotten rid of any remaining baby-fat and had him in the best shape of his young life, he still didn't like his odds. Especially in a 'serious' match where credits and prestige was on the line. At the same time, he knew that if he deliberately took a dive, Dinua truly would kill him.

Jintar too, if all the credits being bet was an indicator.

Dinua stepped into the ring, her dark eyes showing no emotion.

Doran gave her a polite tilt of his head, and to his surprise, she returned the gesture.

And then they were no longer friends. After all, Mandalorians didn't exactly have 'friendly' sparring matches.

Doran knew he had the advantage in both weight and reach. The genes he inherited from his dad were the reason why Tracyn had called him 'Baby Wookie One'. He wasn't going to use the Force, but Jedi katas mixed with the Mandalorian martial-arts he learned allowed him to come up with a hybrid technique. He also knew that he had more stamina than Dinua. The longer the fight went, the better his chances of winning. He doubted very much that Dinua would simply let him stay on the defensive until she had worn herself out.

And his doubts were proven correct when she closed the distance between them, seemingly abandoning all sense of defense. Her arms lashed out rapid-fire, round-houses and jabs interspersed with targeted attacks towards his elbows and wrists. After feeling a stinger of a blow, and knowing that he couldn't keep up his tactic of blocking and batting aside her attacks, Doran tried a counter-attack of his own.

But Dinua appeared to have a few surprises of her own. She gripped the arm that he extended towards her, and then used her own weight and his momentum to throw him forwards. Before he had even hit the mat, she had kipped herself up and then launched an aerial attack that would have been devastating had it connected. He had a split second to react, and fortunately his Mandalorian training had trained his brain to do just that. He rolled to the side and heard the impact of Dinua's fist right next to his ear.

He twisted his body to try and kick her, but she danced out of his reach and to the opposite side of the ring.

Panting at the close-encounter, Doran gave Dinua a faint smile. "When did you become a Teräs Käsi practitioner?"

"Can't teach you all my moves, Di'kut," Dinua retorted. She charged again, closing the distance between the two with several quick, stutter-steps.

Doran knew that had he relied on the Force to predict her movements, he'd be screwed. Teräs Käsi wasn't just a martial arts style, but a mind-set. Developed for the sole purpose of combating Jedi, it involved misdirection in both a physical and mental sense. Users were not only trained to block out a mental intrusion, but to redirect said intrusion so that the Jedi will think the attack is coming from one direction, when it was really coming from another. To avoid what would more than likely be a painful blow, Doran did the un-Jedi thing and met Dinua's sprint mid-stride.

Her fists impacted with his back as he shoulder-tackled her, driving the both of them to the ground. It should have been the end of the fight, what with Doran weighing a great deal more than her lithe figure. But as she fell backwards, Dinua managed to get her knees between his body and hers and used the momentum to flip him over herself. The two got to their feet at the same time, both breathing heavy and smirking at one and other.

Then, to Doran's bewilderment, Dinua shifted her posture once more, and he recognized it from the few times he had stayed with his dad. "Oh come on, how many martial arts forms do you know?"

"Don't worry. I'm far from mastering this form."

"It doesn't matter! How'd they convince the Noghri to teach you Stava?"

"K'atini."

Unlike Teräs Käsi, the Noghri martial arts focused a lot more on take-downs, nerve pinches, pressure points, and joint-locks. All in all, it was a fit for the more predatory-minded Noghri…and apparently Mandalorians with a chip on their shoulder.

This time Dinua didn't initiate the next attack. She feinted several times, but always stopped just short of committing. Doran met her gaze and saw the competitive fire burning within her. She was daring him to throw aside his 'Jedi' defensive mindset. He smirked and adopted a unique stance of his own.

"Echani?" Dinua drawled.

"Never thought I'd be using the stuff dad tried to teach me," Doran bantered. "Don't worry. I'm far from mastering this form."

"Not that it would have made a difference if you had. Echani martial arts are more of a dance than actual form," Dinua quipped. "And you're terrible at dancing."

Dinua feinted again. Rather than draw back, Doran deliberately chased her to provoke her counter. She redirected his outstretched arm with one hand, and with the other, delivered a stinging strike to his elbow. Or it would have been a stinging strike if it had connected. A fraction of a second quicker, Doran went with the momentum of his redirected punch to take the blow on his shoulder. The moment her fist connected, he then pushed his arm out in a whip-like motion. The force of his motion caused Dinua to stagger backwards, off balance. Doran's grabbed her by the front of her tunic and jerked her back to her feet.

Dinua retaliated by breaking his grip. But the moment she did, Doran delivered an open-palm strike with his opposite hand, straight to her chest. The thumping impact forced the breath from of Dinua's body, and she fell backwards and hit the mat with a thud.

The training room became deathly quiet

Though a Jedi would have left the match at that, Doran knew that in front of an audience of Mandos, the Jedi way wouldn't be accepted. In the silence, he walked over to Dinua's dazed figure and knelt down, a knee on her sternum.

Dinua let out a gasping groan, one that was cut off when Doran put a hand on her throat. Her expression was unreadable as she gazed up at him, her hands gripping his wrist to ease the pressure on her throat. Doran forced himself to meet that gaze, even though his entire being was yelling at him to stop and let her up. His way wasn't the Mandalorian way, but to do anything less would be the ultimate insult to the older teen who had helped him carve a place on Gargon. "Yield."

Dark eyes searched his, and after a few seconds—a time in which Doran slowly tightened his grip—Dinua reached out with one arm and tapped the mat wordlessly.

Doran immediately released her and took several steps back, trying to stuff the darker, Mandalorian psyche that he had cultivated back into its box. He said nothing, feeling slightly sick but unable to show it due to the audience they had. Jedi may have considered that darker place the 'path to the dark side,' but Mandalorians considered it a means to survive. Hybridizing the two conflicting mindsets was neither easy nor fun.

"Dinua Jeban has yielded," Jintar declared, shattering the silence around the ring. "The winner of this Battle Circle is Doran Sarkin-Tainer."

Dinua rubbed at her chest and her throat as she was helped back up to her feet. There was something about her expression when she looked his way that unsettled Doran. It wasn't the jealousy or anger that she had displayed before the match. Nor was it her usual pride or bemusement when it came to his actions. He reached out with the Force and almost fell over in shock. Regret, fear, hurt, confusion, all directed towards him.

"Hey, great win," Willow said, popping up next to Doran. "That was all kinds of crazy. Definitely a match to remember."

"Yeah," Doran said absently. His eyes followed Dinua as she left the room with a crowd of older Mandalorians, his stomach still twisting as he couldn't forget the raw emotions he had felt.

"It was almost like you were another person in that ring," Willow continued. "You were so razor focused. I had trouble following what Dinua was doing, but it seemed like you had no trouble at all. And you weren't even using the…."

"Shhhhh," Doran quickly cut her off, muffling her mouth with his hand. "The Vong might be gone, but you never know who has it out for….our kind of people. It is a Mandalorian training camp after all."

"Right, sorry. It's just….is that what Dinua's been teaching you to become while you're here?"

"'Become'?"

"Yeah. In the fight, the adorkable Doran Sarkin-Tainer that I've gotten to know disappeared. The look in your eyes, the whole body-language. When Dinua flipped you over and nearly jumped on your head, you stopped being that Doran Sarkin-Tainer and…I don't know. For a second or so, you reminded me of Master Bridger."

"How?" Doran said blankly, shaking himself and turning his full attention to the lanky almost-teen talking to him.

"I don't exactly know how to describe it. It's like a whole 'I'll do anything I have to to survive, anything' vibe. After you hit her and she went down, you were still in that mode. I've never seen the dark side for reals, but if that wasn't it, I don't know what is."

At her honest assessment, Doran couldn't help but shiver. If there was one thing his mother had hammered into him time after time, after lessons with every esoteric Force-instructor she could find for him, it was that the dark side was never the answer to anything.

He remembered a particularly serious chat she had given him when he had been eleven years old. They had just spent several months on a remote planet called Atollon training under an immensely powerful Force-presence that referred to itself as the 'Middle Way'. But unlike the other Force-sects that his mother had taken him to prior to that, sects that had a clear divide between 'good' and 'evil,' or 'balance' and 'imbalance,' this creature taught both dark and light side abilities and philosophies as if they were one and the same. There was no 'good' or 'evil' according to the creature, there just 'was'. Doran had learned how to use Sith Lightning and Jedi Lightning. How to heal and how to wound. How to destroy and create. How to reach into the darkest recesses of his psyche and harness those emotions. At the end of it all, when Tyria and he had finally left the planet, she told him to not 'forget' about everything he had learned, but to not 'remember it all' either.

"Just because you're capable of doing something, doesn't mean you should. You need to learn about the dark side so that you can combat it when you come face to face with it. Whether it's you who decides to take that step and need to find your way back to the light, or a friend or enemy. Knowing, understanding, that's the first step to mastering whatever challenge is set before you."

"I know mom, there is no ignorance, only knowledge."

"Now who's being ignorant? Doran, if there was only knowledge then there would be no conflict either. A majority of conflicts occur because one side or the other believes they know everything there is to know about something. That their superior knowledge makes them right. The tricky thing about ignorance is that we often don't realize we don't know something until it is pointed out to us. Until then, the 'knowledge' we believe we have is all we will know. You've learned about the dark side from a singular point of view. Was that creature an expert on it? Did all the holocrons he horded comprise every single iota of knowledge about the dark side?"

"No?"

"Right. There is ignorance, andknowledge. We don't know any more about the dark side than what others tell us. But at the same time we know our knowledge is incomplete. I know Vima-Da-Boda taught you that everyone walks their own path, and no two paths are alike. The reason why I take you to all these different Force-users and have you learn from them is so that you can make the most informed decision about the type of person you want to be. But I would hope, buster, that you realize that the dark side is a path of destruction and pain. Something that will master you even if you think you're the master. The next instructor I'm going to take you to was once a member of the Inquisitorious. From him, I hope you'll have another point of view, an example, to draw from on why using the dark side can never truly solve anything."

"Doran, Gargon to Doran," Willow waved a hand in front of his face.

Doran blinked wildly. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"The dark side…" Willow examined his face. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"What? Yeah, I was just…thinking."

"I hope I didn't offend you or anything when I said that you were using the dark side. I mean, like I've said, I've never seen it in action so…"

"Don't worry about it," Doran forced himself to smile. "And if I do start showing Sith Lord tendencies, maybe you can warn me. One blink for 'getting there' and two blinks for 'shall I buy you a cape and red lightsaber, my lord?'"

Willow snorted and shook her head. "Deal. Well, since everyone has left the training room, maybe we can show me some of those moves you used on Dinua."

Realizing that everyone, including Jintar, had indeed left while he had been lost in thought, Doran recovered quickly. "Sure, why not?"

"Great…uh oh."

Doran followed the direction of Willow's gaze and saw one of Dinua's dads, Goran Beviin, approach with a retinue of Mandalorians. "Uh…is Dinua okay?"

"Her pride's taken a hit, but she'll live," Goran said tonelessly. "But that's not why I'm here."

"Of course."

"You're wanted in Keldabe."

"I'm what?"

"Mandalore the Guardian and the Mandalorian clan-leaders have requested your presence. And by request, it's not one you can turn down."

Doran was taken aback. "Why?"

"Why can't you turn it down, or why are they requesting you?"

"Both, I guess."

"To answer the second question, you're being requested because of your dealings with Kyr'tsad and the Vongese. To answer the first, you're currently under Mand'alor's protection and refusing his request would be…most unwise."

"But I'm only thirteen."

"An adult by Mando standards."

"Am I going alone?"

"Dinua and Jintar were also requested. Willow will be permitted to travel with you since you're her instructor. Now, enough talk. Pack your bags and be at the hangar in thirty minutes. You're about to meet the leaders of the Mando'ade, so it goes without saying that you really shouldn't screw this up."

"I'll do my best."

"You'll do better than your best, ad. Speak from the heart and don't make anyone want to kill you and you should be fine."

"Errr…sir….generally, me speaking from the heart tends to lead to the thing you want me to avoid."

Goran paused for a moment. "Good point. Speak from the heart and then make sure you're the one shooting first if someone wants to kill you. You should feel honored. Rarely do the clan-leaders meet this day and age. What you say might very well affect the future of all of Mand'alor."

Doran paled. "Right."

Goran stared at Doran impassively. "K'atini."

FtF III FtF

Doran had been on Mandalore all of two times in the past. But only if staying at the starport of the place you're visiting counted. The first stay had been at the beginning of his stay on Gargon, when Tracyn had been injured. The second had been in the middle of the year when Jintar had had his genetic difficulties. Both times he had arrived and stayed at Clan Skirata's home, the Kyrimorut, and hadn't ventured too far away from the underground dwelling. It seemed strangely appropriate that as he finished his year with the Mandalorians, he'd visit their homeworld once more. Only, this time, he was going to their cultural capitol, and none of his friends were in any immediate sort of medical danger.

Having never seen the rest of the planet, Doran kept his face pressed against the viewport as the shuttle descended through the thick, dark gray clouds. Water ran down the transparasteel and forks of lightning lit up the sky. Yet Doran and the others in the shuttle were unaffected by the turbulent weather. After all, they were in a Mandalorian Protectorate Meteor-class Q-Carrier. Essentially the go-to dropship Mandalorian Protectorate troopers used to deploy around the galaxy. Nothing short of a turbolaser barrage would cause the shuttle any grief.

At the moment, Doran could see nothing but the storm around the vessel. But as the transport dipped further towards the planet, the lights of Keldabe glimmered like stars on the rain drops on the viewport.

"Wow," Willow exhaled excitedly. "I've never seen a city so, so…"

"Improvised?" Doran said in bemusement. The buildings of Keldabe were a hot mess of shapes, sizes, materials, personalities, and purposes. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason as to their locations, or even the layout of the streets they were on.

"There are stories that Keldabe was the first Mandalorian settlement. Well, more like camp," Willow said, slightly bent over to peer out of the cockpit's viewports. She reached out to grab Doran's hand and pulled him to her viewport. She then pointed out the window at the city. "Look right there. The Taung, landed here first and conquered the entire planet with just swords and axes. After that, they called themselves Mando'ade, or Children of Mandalore."

"So it's some sort of holy site?" Doran questioned, having never heard this. He turned to her for the answer, and then flushed when he realized how close his face was to her. Fortunately for him, Willow was too distracted by the view to notice. Unfortunately for him, just as he started to stare at the lively, energetic younger teen next to him, he could feel Dinua's laser-like glare boring holes into the back of his head. He quickly changed his focus back to the city.

"At one point in time, maybe," Willow nodded, oblivious to the death-glare. "According to the historian Vilnau Teupt, the Taung had a religious warrior society that believed in something called Akaanati'kar'oya. Translated into basic it roughly means 'the War of Life and Death' and it's their creation story. These ancient Mandalorians had a pantheon, believed that the stars in the sky shined because of the rulers of the past, and even had ritual combat to appease their god Kad Ha'rangir. But after the Jedi Order beat the Neo-Crusaders in the Ani'la Akaan, the 'Last Great Battle,' religion kind of fell away. Today, Keldabe is probably no more holy than a pair of worn socks."

"You seem to know a lot about the Mandalorians," Dinua commented neutrally from her jumpseat in the passenger area.

Willow looked over her shoulder with a grin. "When mom told me I was going to spend a year among some of the toughest people in the galaxy, I wanted to know all I could about your people. Your people have such a fascinating history, made even crazier by the fact that all the Mandalorians today are spiritual descendants of the first, true Mandalorian race."

"Yeah, well, there are some things you can't learn in a datapad," Dinua replied coolly. "If there's one thing you should know is that you can't generalize Mandalorians and expect to come away living after fighting one. Actual experience beats booksmarts any day."

"Hey, knowing the basics means there's less of a chance of dying trying to get experience."

"We'll be touching down in ten, kids. Strap yourselves back in." Their pilot, one of Boba's Fett's elite supercommandos announced, amusement in his voice. "And Doran Sarkin-Tainer."

"Yeah?" Doran paused, while Willow went back to her seat.

"Speaking from personal experience, pick one, or be good enough in bed to satisfy both."

Doran's face went bright red. "I'm not with either of them….not really…I think…"

The pilot chuckled. "Then you're screwed. Good luck."

Doran couldn't keep the embarrassment off his face as he returned to the passenger area and pulled the harnesses over his shoulders.

"What's up, Doran?" Jintar said with a smirk of amusement, his eyes closed as he rested.

"How did I find myself in these situations?" Doran held his head in his hands.

"Which situations?" Willow asked perkily.

"Yes, which ones?" Dinua added tonelessly, an eyebrow rising.

Doran gulped. "Ones involving life-or-death choices."

"Will of the Force," Willow shrugged.

"Very bad luck," Dinua supplied for her own answer.

"I was talking to Jintar."

"Skirata?" Dinua glanced to the oldest Mandalorian in their group. "How does the Di'kut keep finding himself in life or death situations?"

"He has the mandokar for it and lives for the thrill of it," Jintar said in a lazy drawl, eyes still close. "After all, he'd have to be a complete idiot otherwise."

"Thanks," Doran said dryly.

"Anytime, vod."

The shuttle shook slightly as its landing struts made contact with the ground. The pilot emerged from the cockpit while the teens undid their safety harnesses.

"Welcome to Keldabe, ade," the Supercommando said evenly, slapping the ramp button to lower it. "We haven't been formally introduced yet, because I hate formalities. I'm Tiroc Vhon, battalion leader in the Ori'ramikade of the Mandalorian Protectorate. Jeban, Skirata, as of now you are being considered for a spot in the Ori'ramikade training corps on Raxus Prime. If Mand'alor finds you worthy, the two of you will report there at the end of the month. You Jedi, try to avoid blowing anything up while you're here. A good many Mandalorians will take offense if it's learned that Jedi have blown something up on their homeworld."

"We'll do our best," Doran answered. He briefly wondered if the supercommando was being biased and had just jinxed them. After all, all they were doing was talking to the Mandalorian clan leaders. Why would blowing up anything even need to be mentioned?

Jintar and Dinua both straightened, surprise at their potential recruitment clear. "We won't let Mand'alor down."

"Don't let yourselves down, that's all that matters," Tiroc corrected. "Now if you can please get off my ship. I think you've filled it with enough teenage pheromones that I'll need a week to air it out."

The group unceremoniously hurried off the transport and into the driving rain. The moment they were off, the ramp retracted, the doors closed, and it blasted off once more. This left the group of teens in a torrential downpour, in the middle of a landing platform that looked to be made of repurposed metal and wood, hanging off the side of the plateau.

"I guess that's Mandalorian efficiency for you," Doran said with a weak smile.

Willow grimaced at the falling, icy rain. She used Doran's larger body to briefly shield herself from Jintar and Dinua's view as she removed her glasses and cleaned them. "Great, now what?"

"Is this supposed to be some test?" Jintar looked equally confused and sputtering. They were all dressed in the rough cotton, short-sleeved tunics that were standard Mandalorian garb. Said tunics did nothing against the deluge being dumped on them.

But looking around the empty platform, there didn't appear to be any landing party. The lone three-leveled building at the end of the landing pad was completely dark.

A jagged fork of lightning rippled across the sky. This illuminated a lone figure sitting on a bench by the building, shielded from the rain by an overhanging.

"I guess we go over there then?" Doran adjusted the strap to his knapsack as he looked to the others.

"If it's a trap, we can always kick their shebs," Dinua shrugged, water dripping from her hair.

As they grew closer, the figure looked their way. A red, optical implant shone brightly in the dark shadows.

"Tracyn?" Doran said in disbelief.

"Hey, Hairless Baby Wookie One," Tracyn smiled, legs idly kicking as she remained seated.

Doran took several steps towards her, then frowned when he realized something. "You're suited up and dressed for battle."

"I'm a Mandalorian, I live in my armor," Tracyn dodged airily. Her helmet rested by her side on the bench, but a rifle of some sort was slung over her one shoulder, both her gauntlets looked equipped with various projectiles, and she even had a knee-rocket device attached to a much heavier version of the armor he was used to seeing her wear. "Who's the new girl?"

"I'm Willow," the brown-haired almost-teen supplied, clasping forearms in greeting. She then spoke the traditional Mandalorian greeting with a slightly rougher pronunciation than Doran had heard in the past. "S'ucuy."

"Tracyn Gedyc. That's really impressive. You recognized my home-accent just from hearing me speak Basic?"

"Doran and I have a lot in common," Willow said after a brief check with Doran.

"Oh?" Tracyn's eyebrows shot up.

"Mind looking after her when I'm gone?" Doran asked. "Dinua and Jintar are got picked for supercommando training."

"Of course," Tracyn nodded. "Any friend of yours is a friend of mine."

"What are you doing here, Gedyc? On Manda'yaim, are you crazy?" Dinua said in disbelief.

"Mand'alor invited me as a concerned citizen of this world."

"I think I know why Vhon told me and Willow not to blow anything up now," Doran groaned.

"Hey!"

"I don't mean anything against you, Tracyn. Just, Mandalorian politics when it comes to Kyr'tsad is like playing roulette with a quad-barreled missile launcher. You point it at a charging target, three of the tubes are filled, and the Mandalorians always seem to get that empty tube. By the time you do fire off the rocket you blow both yourselves and the Kyr'tsad up."

"That is true," Tracyn said ruefully. She donned her helmet and playfully dug her fist into Doran's arm. "You're forgiven."

"Enough about politics. Kyr'tsadika, Please say you're our ride to a very warm hotel and hot meal," Jintar asked, shivering.

"I do have an enclosed speeder in the garage," Tracyn jerked a thumb at the structure attached to the building. "Which is a good thing to, because the hotel the Protectorate booked us is at the other side of town at the base of the city."

"It'd really suck if we had to walk that in this weather," Willow exhaled a small puff of air.

The group moved over to the garage and Tracyn activated the switch to the door. The moment it opened fully, however, a pulsing threat echoed in the Force. Doran grabbed both Diuna and Jintar, who were the closest, and half-leaped, half-threw the three of them as far from the building as he could. Willow simultaneously tackled Tracyn into a nearby drainage culvert. A second later, a large rocket barreled down from somewhere higher up. A massive whoosh and ball of fire immediately followed. The blast completely obliterated the garage, sending a rain of debris cascading down on the prone teens. The shockwave also took out the connected building, tearing it apart and sending the debris sideways.

When the last of the debris fell, Doran weakly looked up. He could see the others do the same, all staring at the smoldering crater that had been left behind in the blast.

Eyes went to him, and he swallowed. "That was so not my fault."

FtF IV FtF

The rest of the night could have gone better in many ways. The destruction of the speeder, and the strange fact that no security forces showed up to investigate—meant the teens had spent the rest of the night trudging tiredly through the backstreets of Keldabe. Normally Doran would have appreciated the sights of an alien city on a far-away world, but they had been on guard the entire time, worried that the attackers might try again. By the time they had reached their designated hotel—a single-story long-house made of wood and stone—there was only an hour or two before daylight broke. To make matters worse, because they hadn't checked in before midnight, they had lost their reservations, and the small hotel only had one room left. Too tired, rain-drenched, and cold to go anywhere else, the group accepted it. The room, barely larger than a storage closet, was meant for a single person, and the teens had all opted to give Willow the lone, narrow bed over her protests.

The room did have a refresher attached to it, though the shower was a sonic one. But Doran was okay with that after the drenched he had received. He turned the frequency modulator up so that the sonic waves would warm his chilled body, and exhaled slowly in relief. He was the last to take a shower, and he was grateful the emitter matrix in the shower-head hadn't overheated. The hotel had the bare minimums and probably gave 'budget-hotels' a bad name when it came to amenities. No chairs or tables existed in the room, nor was there a heating or cooling unit. The fact that the room even had a sonic shower was unexpected, but then again, Doran reflected, it allowed the hotel to save on the cost of towels, soaps, and other things one might need for a water-based shower. With all their clothes completely drenched, even their spares in the packs they brought, he didn't even want to think about what they'd look like when they met with the clan-leaders. There was a gift-shop that sold knock-off clothing and souvenirs, but it wouldn't open for another handful of hours.

For the moment, it looked like his trip to Mandalore was turning out to be just like the rest of the adventures he had had that year. And that wasn't exactly a good thing.

The sonic emitters began to blink out, and Doran sighed in defeat and shut off the struggling shower system. He had showered with his completely wet clothing still on, and though the sonic vibrations had wrung most of the liquid from his now warm garments, they were still uncomfortably damp. With an annoyed huff he pulled off his shirt and pants and exited the refresher in his underwear. His weeks of training in the Gargon wilderness meant that modesty was something he wasn't too worried about these days. Besides, he was rather proud of what his year of hard work had done to his body.

He stepped out of the room. "Stupid, cheap, shower emitters."

"They burn out?" Jintar asked, resting against one of the walls of the room.

"Yeah." Doran hung his shirt and pants from the hanger on the door. "And my clothes are still pretty damp."

"So you're just showing off your body for Willow's benefit?" Tracyn said with a smirk.

"Will…oh," Doran suddenly remembered that he was no longer just among Mandos. Said non-Mando was staring at him with wide-eyes, her concentration slipping enough that her glamour actually faded. "Oh…right."

"Wow," was all Willow managed, her jaw open.

Dinua reached over, calmly shut her mouth, and then stepped into view. "You were using the Force to alter your appearance?"

"What? I am. How'd you kn…oh," a rapidly blushing Willow squeezed her eyes shut and her glamour started to come back, but faded again the moment she opened her eyes and saw a bemused Doran staring at her. "Stop it!"

"What?"

"Looking so good," Willow blurted out.

"How should I look then?"

"Not nearly naked and posing with your arms like that!"

"I'm not posing! It's how I naturally stand! And I can't help being nearly naked!"

"You can too! Put your clothes back on!"

"They're wet!"

"Well…too bad for you," Willow sputtered. "I'm an innocent twelve year old, you know. You shouldn't…shouldn't…."

"What?"

"Tempt me!" Willow practically shouted. Then, realizing what she said and that the others were looking at her with varying expressions of amusement, she 'eeped' and pulled the threadbare covers of the bed over her head.

"Don't worry, you wouldn't be the first Jedi undone by a sexy man," Tracyn commented with laughter, practically rolling on the ground next to the bed.

"Here, Doran," Jintar pulled out a second shirt and pair of pants and tossed it to him, but he was also chuckling. "I wore two sets of clothing into the shower. This one dried too. Good thing we're about the same size or these would look ridiculously big on you."

"Thanks."

Dinua, for her part, was smirking at Willow's shrouded figure. When she looked over to Doran, however, her expression flickered. Almost half-serious, she called out to Doran. "Di'kut, you do realize that once you're outside of Manda'yaim, you'll have girls throwing themselves at you? With a body like yours, I wouldn't blame them."

"Errr…thanks?"

"Just make sure that you pair up with one that can watch your back. After all, I won't be able to do it out there," Dinua breathed out, a touch of emotions in her voice. She moved over to the window sill and sat in it, not turning back.

Doran watched her dumbfoundedly, feeling more than a little lost. He took a step towards her, but was stopped when Tracyn stepped up. "Hey, Hairless Baby Wookie One, let's see if we can scrounge up some food. I don't know about you, but I'm hungry."

Doran's stomach chose that moment to growl. Even then, he couldn't get the almost forlorn expression on Dinua's face out of his mind. "But…"

Tracyn grabbed the collar of his shirt and bent him down so she can whisper. "She's fighting an enemy only she can beat. Don't make it more complicated."

Doran swallowed, took one last look at Dinua, before letting his shoulders slump. "Okay."

"Hey, Willow! Why don't you come with? We'll leave Skirata here to cover Jeban in case anyone decides to shoot this place up."

Willow peeked her head out of the blanket, saw Dinua's expression. She threw off the blanket and joined Tracyn and Doran. "Okay, where to?"

"There's a diner not too far from here. Open all day and night," Tracyn said glibly. "Perfect for us."

"You visit this place often?" Willow asked as they headed out the hotel. Fortunately for them, the rain had stopped and left the air fresh and crisp.

"Not for a long time. The Kyr'tsad has a political delegation both here and in Sundari. Of course, they don't call themselves Kyr'tsad's political faction, but they advance a pro-Mandalorian Empire agenda in the Senate and among the clan-leaders. When I was younger, the older Kyr'tsad leadership used to bring me here to meet them. When I seized control of my faction, I cut ties to the delegation,"

"Not your speed?" Willow said lightly.

Several emotions flickered across Tracyn's face. "Something like that."

"Willow," Doran interrupted. "Tracyn and her faction didn't exactly get along with the others."

"Oh right. I remembered you told me that you, Dinua, Jintar, and Hera helped to take down all but the Vizsla and Gedyc factions."

"Yeah. They just have a lot of history that Tracyn doesn't like talking about." Doran felt Tracyn take one of his hands and squeeze it in silent thanks before letting go again.

"Sorry."

"No, it's okay. We Mandalorians are a lot more complicated than most people think."

"Do you think the guys that fired the rocket are from that delegation then?"

"Not unless a new one popped up."

"What happened to the old…one," Willow trailed off when Tracyn casually tapped the blaster at her hip. "Oh. Really?"

"Wasn't my faction. Clan Kryze gets credit for that."

At that, Doran tilted his head towards Tracyn. "I thought they focused on civil matters."

"They are. The political group had a civil disagreement with Korkie over a misuse of civil-funds, and they civilly drew their blasters on each other. When Korkie's group tried to leave, the political group not-so-civilly tried to back-shoot them. The security feed cuts out after that, but afterwards, the entire political faction was arrested on various crimes, with tips sent in by anonymous sources. Since the primary crime was treason thru proven connections to Kyr'tsad, the group was executed after a short trial."

"Okay, so not them. Maybe someone in Mandalor's camp wants you dead?" Willow continued.

"The truce my faction made with Boba Fett, however, makes it so that anyone who wants me dead ends up an enemy of the Protectorate. After all, Boba Fett gave his word. Given the times, none of the people that matter are going to risk it."

"Yuuzhan Vong spy?" Doran posited.

"The Vongese? Maybe," Tracyn shrugged. "But my people also have a deal with them. We're their insurance in case the Mandalorians try to betray them."

"How does that work out?"

"We feed them information about the Protectorate, they leave us alone. If the Protectorate betrays the Vongese, they'll kill the Protectorate and install us as the leaders."

"You definitely like to cover your bases," Doran said, rolling his eyes and chuckling dryly.

"How about Clan Vizsla?" Willow suggested. "With you dead, they get to absorb your faction and unite Kyr'tsad under one banner."

"What is this? Think about everyone that wants to kill cute little me?" Tracyn protested. "I don't have that many people that want me dead. At least, no more than out of the ordinary."

"Mando-Ugnaught, the fact that you have anyone that wants you dead is out of the ordinary already."

"Ordinary for a Mando, Di'kut," Tracyn retorted.

"Which isn't ordinary at all," Doran joked.

"Speaking of not normal, how'd you know that the rocket was going to hit? I thought you weren't using your Jedi powers while you were with Jeban and the others."

"I must have backslid. With Willow on Gargon, I sometimes found it easier to show her how to do something with the Force than explain out loud. I guess getting back in touch with things had me reflexively use that danger-sense again."

"Or you could have read it off me through our bond," Willow said. "Is using the Force that bad?"

"Generally speaking, Willow, every Mando wants to kill Jedi. All our children's tales, the good and the bad ones, always end up with the righteous Mandalorian warrior triumphing over the preachy, cowardly Jedi."

"Ooo, what's one example of a children's story?"

"I'm no storyteller. That's this lug's job," Tracyn begged off. "I can look some up for you on the local HoloNet and share it with you later."

"Thanks," Willow said brightly.

"So," Tracyn's cybernetic eye ran up and down Willow's body. "Which is the real you, the no-glasses look you have on now, or that other one?"

"Huh? Oh right, sorry, I keep the glamour on by default," Willow self-consciously ran a hand down her body. "The other one's the real me. I feel…more comfortable with the glamour though."

"Jedi use the Force for makeup and sculpting jobs?" Tracyn said casually.

"It's a personal thing," Willow muttered, avoiding Doran's gaze. "And it's only an illusion."

"So a mind-trick then?"

"Not really," Willow shook her head. "A mind-trick would take too much energy. I'd literally have to trick everyone who's looking at me into viewing me a certain way. I don't have that ability. Doran, without using the Force, when you look at me, what do you immediately notice?"

Doran nearly slid on the muddy ground. There really was no safe answer considering Willow's glamour drew his eyes to non-safe places of her body. "Errr….how…attractive parts of you are."

Willow smirked at that. "Tracyn, what do you see?"

"Another tall, photogenic Jedi," the shorter girl said grumpily. "What's the point?"

"When you interact with someone, you're never a hundred percent paying attention to their entire appearance the whole time. You subconsciously focus on something, whether it's their eyes or a freckle on their face, or their body," Willow elaborated. "I don't use the Force to change my whole image. I use it to change the focus. And that's easy to do if they're already thinking about me in a certain way. It's not really a mind trick if all I'm doing is emphasizing thoughts you're already thinking. It creates a tunnel-vision of sorts and your mind fills in the blanks. You see me as a taller, photogenic Jedi for two main reasons. One, because you see the way both Dinua and Doran interact with me and that gives you a mental impression of who I am. And two, because you already have certain expectations about Jedi so my abilities translate those expectations to map over my actual appearance. Talking with me now, you're focused on my face and your peripheral vision is on the rest of me. All I have to do is highlight aspects of me in your subconscious, and your mind will fill in that peripheral image based off that."

"But why do you need the whole glamour thing in the first place?" Tracyn asked.

Willow smiled self-consciously, silently thanking Doran as he sent her his support through the Force. "Well I…"

Willow jerked her head to look over her shoulder. Then, a split second later, both she and Doran grabbed Tracyn and jumped off the muddy road and into the equally muddy ground next to it. Their splash landing hid the sound of three darts spiraling through the air and impacting with the road. The three darts subsequently exploded, sending a wet puddle of mud splashing over the sides.

As the sloshing and mud splattering abated, the trio sputtered as they wiped mud out of their eyes, nose and mouth.

"Was this what your first few weeks with the Mandos was like?" Willow managed, coughing and spitting.

"It's what it felt like. Look on the bright side, we haven't ended up in bacta yet," Doran managed, mournfully looking at his now, wet, mud-covered clothing.

A barely audible whistling sound filled the air as Tracyn and Willow grumbled about their situation, and three more darts with blinking lights hit the road right next to the trio.

Doran, being the only one to hear the whistling sound, groaned at the sight of the darts. "Worse trip to Mandalore, ever."

FtF V FtF

"Tell me again how you ended up making a food-run into something life-threatening?" A very cross Dinua asked as Doran toweled himself off of the excess bacta from his brief dip in a bacta tank.

"It's not my fault!" Doran called back over the divider, somewhat relieved that Dinua was talking to him again. "At least I don't think it is. The target could have been Tracyn, or Willow, or even the three of us. Which, if that was the case, I'll take only a third of the blame."

"Di'kut, just shut up." Dinua snapped. "If it wasn't for you jumping onto that dar'manda and Gedyc before the blast, you wouldn't even have needed bacta."

"Tracyn got half her face melted off for me! And why are you calling Willow a 'dar'manda'? What was I supposed to do, let her get blown up by high explosives?"

"She's a dar'manda until she earns the right to her name," Dinua retorted hotly. "Right now she's a child pretending to play Jedi and Mandalorian at the same time. She thinks all her answers are in a book or report, and has no idea just how dangerous the galaxy can be. And to answer your other question, yes! Children die all the time. It's harsh, but true. And you know my feelings about Gedyc. But the galaxy can't afford to lose good people like you."

Doran pulled the divider open, even though he only had a towel wrapped around his waist. "Dinua."

"I told you to shut up," Dinua growled, quickly turning away from him. "If anything, this only shows that you need someone your back. The dar'manda won't cut it. Maybe far in the future, but not as she is now."

"It's not her fault I got hurt. It wasn't even serious this time. Just a bunch of muddy shrapnel," Doran reached out to put a hand on Dinua's shoulder, but the teen shrugged it off with a shake of her head. "Dinua."

"No," Dinua said aloud, shaking her head again and stepping away. "You have less than twenty days left before you depart Mandalorian space. Before you go back to being a Jedi. You aren't a Mandalorian Di'kut. You never will be. So you have to stop taking stupid risks like this. A real Mandalorian can take it and live. You Jedi, you're soft. You die. You saw Hera Wren's condition. Do you really think that you'll be able to survive something like that? When you leave Mando space, you'll be a Jedi like all the others. A target for the Vongese. You've seen the news reports. There isn't a single week where another Jedi is either killed or captured by them. And when you leave, I won't be there to protect you from the things that they did to Wren. If they do to you what they did to her…"

This time Doran wrapped his arms firmly around Dinua, holding her tightly even when she struggled to get free. "Shhh….Dinua."

"Let me go!"

"Not when you're like this." Doran murmured into her hair. "You're right when you said I'm not a Mandalorian. But I'm not really a Jedi either. Remember, back when I first got here, you asked me who I was, what I was? I'm just Doran Sarkin-Tainer. I'm not a killer, I'm not a soldier, or a healer, or a politician. I'm just me. A guy who's too stupid to know when to back down. A guy who's seen more bacta this year than I've seen in my entire life. If I can run, I'll run. But if I have to fight, I'll fight to win, to live, only because I know that if I lose, those I care about will suffer. Even if I'm hurt or, Force-forbid, in a state like Hera is, I'll continue to fight to live."

Dinua had stilled as he spoke, instead, leaning her head into his chest. He took it as a sign that she was listening.

"This year with you Mandos has been….something else. Looking back, I finally understand why my mom sent me here. Sure I came here to learn how to fight and survive like you Mandos, but that's not all. If there's one thing I've learned from you all is that you can only do so much alone no matter how tough you are. You, Jintar, Tracyn, my aliit, you're why I've made it to this end. When I leave, I promise that I'll find someone to partner up and take on the galaxy with. In return, you have to promise me to become a kick-ass super-commando and go super-commando your way through all the bad-guys you come across. No matter what Boba Fett throws your way in his training, you make it through it. Deal?"

Dinua was silent for a long moment, her arms remaining at her sides. After several long seconds, she took in a deep breath and stepped back. Her eyes were slightly red, but Doran ignored it and instead pulled a few stray locks of hair out of her face. She reached up and cupped his face for a moment staring up at him, then let her hand fall back to her side. "Stay alive no matter what and it's a deal."

"Okay."

"Okay," Dinua repeated hoarsely. She took another step back, then another, turning away from him and gripping the wrist of the hand she had used to touch his face with her opposite hand. "Get dressed. Mand'alor himself wants to brief you about the agenda."

"Did we find out anything about who keeps trying to kill me?"

"That's part of the agenda, Di'kut," a small amount of warm teasing had returned to Dinua's voice.

"Alright, see you there?"

"I'll be right outside the door and escort you there myself." She stepped through the sliding doors and it closed before Doran could answer.

With a ruefully shake of his head and a smile, Doran hurriedly dressed. He stepped through the doors and Dinua gave him a small lopsided smirk before schooling her face into impassiveness. She did, however, playfully bump into him before they began walking. Doran, once again trying to decipher the hardest code known to the male gender—girlese—just scratched his head with a smile of his own and let her lead the way.

FtF VI FtF

"You okay?" Tracyn asked when Doran and Dinua entered the room. Said room looked to be some sort of ops-center…hybridized with a bar on one side and a data-center on another. Like the rest of the building, the walls were plain durasteel, looking very aged in nature. Tracyn and Jintar were sitting at the bar with a couple of other Mandalorians.

"Told you it was a minor explosion," Doran waved off her concern. "The bacta was just a precaution."

"Doran," Willow huffed, rolling her own eyes. Her Force abilities allowed her to see the truth in his words and she wasn't concerned. She was in the data-center, reading off a datapad that was plugged into the bank of computers. "Normally, being caught in any sort of explosion, minor or not, is supposed to cause other feelings of worry. Don't tell me you're becoming one of these bucket-heads when it comes to your sanity?"

"I…" Doran paused in realization. He dramatically gripped his head and let out a faux groan of despair. "Oh no! I am! Kill me now."

Several blasters whined to life and Doran half-glared at the holders through squinted eyes. "That was a joke, not an invitation!"

"A pity," one of the Ori'ramikade in the room said lightly.

"You forget we bucketheads don't have a sense of humor," another chirped, spinning his blaster in his hand before holstering it.

"You Mandalorians are crazy," Willow said in bewilderment.

Realizing the younger Jedi was lumping him in with the others, Doran straightened from his posture. "Hey!"

"Just calling it as I see it, oh, wise instructor."

"Are you kids finished?" The familiar voice of Tiroc Vhon cut in. The armored Mandalorian standing at a far holo-table with his arms folded in front of him.

"Sorry," Willow and Doran said in unison, looking thoroughly chided.

"I swear," Tiroc muttered, his voice muted from his helmet. "I wonder if repainting, washing, and cleaning the interior of Mand'alor's ship will put me back on the frontlines. All it was was one little scratch after all. Hardly noticeable. It wasn't my fault the docking arm wasn't in the locked position when I was backing his ship out of the hangar."

Jintar and Tracyn joined Willow, Doran, and Dinua as they reached the designated table. Each took a seat around it, and Tiroc activated the table.

"We've located the ones responsible for firing the missile at you at the landing pad and the ones from the most recent attack," Tiroc began. The holo-images being shown were a variety of faces. "All are hired thugs and lowlifes. All except one. We ascertained his identity through intercepted communications between himself and one of the thugs."

The scrolling faces stopped on a single Duros. "This is Ki'lian Bane, grandson to the founder of the Bane Consortium."

Silence followed his announcement the teens all looking decidedly confused. Doran decided to bite the bullet for the rest of them. "The what?"

Tiroc's frown was heard in his voice. "No one has heard of it? The Bane Consortium? The spiritual successor to the GenoHaradan Assassin's guild?"

Heads were shaken all around.

Doran heard Tiroc's mental countdown from ten. Slightly annoyed by the supercommando, Doran decided to push the man's buttons. "Oh that Bane Consortium. I thought you were referring to the Bane Consortium that owned a bunch of greenhouses filled with all sorts of deadly, exotic plants. I was wondering why they'd be trying to kill us."

"No, I was not." The words sounded civil but took great effort for the supercommando to get out. "The Bane Consortium I am referring to is a group of assassins and enforcers from across the galaxy. They are made up of former special-forces and law-enforcement, as well as Mandalorians, Gen'Dai, and some of the most hardened criminals in the galaxy. For the longest time, they were the muscle for the Crimson Dawn criminal syndicate and was often employed by the syndicate to take out their Black Sun rivals. They have since taken over the Crimson Dawn and are murderers for hire."

"So someone hired this Ki'lian-guy to kill us?" Doran asked.

"Specifically, we believe he was hired to kill you," Tiroc inclined his head to Doran.

"Me?" Doran blinked owlishly.

"The target in the comm-intercept is referred to as a male. Given the nature of the second attack, it stands to reason that you're the popular one."

"Oh."

"What are your next moves?" Dinua voiced, eyes narrowing dangerously.

"We have none," Tiroc said simply. "You all were brought here to debrief the clan leaders. You will do so and be returned to Gargon."

"You're going to do nothing?" Jintar frowned for the first time.

"We cannot waste resources on one person in the middle of this war," Tiroc confirmed. "The Bane Consortium is a full-fledged criminal syndicate dedicated to murdering high-level officials. But they are merely hired help, and going after them will only provoke a war with the Consortium that we cannot afford at the moment. We also cannot waste time chasing after every petty criminal and thug on Manda'yaim."

"Doran is a part of our aliit," Dinua said stiffly.

"If you want to do something about it, be my guests. But the underworld is a dangerous place. Unlike us, rules mean very little to them."

"Do you at least have a recommendation about where to start?" Willow said in protest.

"Jeban's clan has all the connections you need to get started," Tiroc answered neutrally.

"My clan?" Dinua looked confused.

"Clan Rook belongs to you, does it not?" Tiroc said simply.

Dinua paled at the name, taking in a shallow breath as she did. "Clan Rook?"

"Yes, Beroya Rook has been managing it as per your orders. His nameless, forgotten relation became a member of the Bane Consortium, albeit a very low ranking one, after he was kicked off of Gargon. Did you not wonder how he was able to raise a small army despite the reputation his clan has?"

"I…no," Dinua breathed out again, her hands starting to curl into fists. They stopped, however, when Doran gently took one hand and Jintar reached over to squeeze the other. She gave both grateful smiles before facing Tiroc with renewed strength. "Was the nameless one the only member of the clan to join?"

"You tell me. If you wish to visit their homestead, then do so," Tiroc shrugged. "I will tell Mand'alor that your clan is currently dealing with a threat to one of its members. When you are finished with the issue, return to debrief the clan leaders."

"Thank you."

Tiroc made a shooing motion and silently watched the group of teens leave. When they were gone, he folded his arms in front of him. "Are you sure siccing those kids on the Bane Consortium is the best choice? The Consortium will eat them alive."

"They'll handle it," Boba Fett emerged from a hidden room.

"The Consortium has already killed three clan leaders suspected of plotting against the Vongese, Mand'alor."

"And are watching the rest of us to see what we do next. We cannot move without tipping our hand, and Mandalore can't afford a shooting war just yet. Gorak Lah is no fool. He knows that to watch a dangerous predator, one of equal danger is needed."

"But to rely on kids," Tiroc sounded disgruntled.

"Cad has trained his children well, but we've trained ours better."

"Will Cad personally get involved?"

"If he does," Boba Fett pulled out an aged LL-30 blaster-pistol from a sack hanging from his utility belt. "I'll be happy to return to the old man a souvenir from our last encounter."

FtF Chapter End FtF

A\N: Happy holidays! Next chapter won't be up for a long while, this was more of a holiday gift and to give you all an idea of what the last story arc in this story will be about.