Marin Fel had been told Mandalorians valued nothing more than family, but she'd heard it from a woman who'd left her own daughter to be raised as a Jedi, so she'd never known what to make of that idea. She'd never known what to make of her mother either. Being on Harm's Way with Tamar and Dorn and Ninet was making things a little bit clearer, but she still felt far from everything she'd ever known.
They were apparently on their way to the Chorax system. Marin hadn't heard of it and according to her mother there wasn't much to hear, other than that it was lightly settled and a popular hideout for fringers. Dorn had gotten a message from one of the contacts who'd tipped him to Auchs' and Galaset's activities in the first place, and he'd said he wanted to meet in person to give them new information.
It was a long way to Chorax, so Marin had plenty of time for the awkward task of getting to know the family she'd never met. For her mother, nothing was awkward at all. Tamar interacted easily with her cousin Dorn. Marin watched the two of them slip into conversations in almost-all Mando'a when they thought she wasn't paying attention. Her mother smiled easier; it was a kind of sharp, wry smile but it was there, and there was a light in her eyes Marin had never seen when her mother visited the Jedi academy on Bastion.
She didn't know what to make of Dorn, who was technically some kind of second or third cousin but effectively her uncle. He gave off the air of being tough and taciturn, grizzled and gray even though he wasn't super-old. He spent a lot of time taking apart, cleaning, and putting back together the impressive collection of weapons he kept in Harm's Way's storage locker. Marin didn't know how to talk to him.
Ninet was a little easier. She was only a little older than Marin, less than a year. The family resemblance was plain, even though Ninet was a little leaner with a darker complexion. She had that obsessive, punctilious need to keep care of her armor and weapons as her father, which Marin supposed was universal to soldiers and mercenaries everywhere, not just Mandos.
The second day after leaving Broken Moon, Ninet found Marin in her small guest cabin and said, "Can I borrow your lightsaber for a minute?"
Marin didn't know what to say. She kept her saber with her jacket and pulled it out carefully. "What do you want with it?"
"I just want to try something."
"Like what?"
"Bring it. You can do it yourself." She waved for Marin to follow, then ducked out of the doorway, down the hall.
Marin followed the other girl to her own, larger cabin. She had her armor draped out on a stretcher and standing over it she told Marin, "Use your lightsaber on it. I want to see what happens."
Marin gripped her weapon uneasily. "Isn't beskar supposed to be impervious to lightsabers?"
Ninet planted fists on her hips. "I've never fought a jeti before. I want to see if this material is as good as I was promised."
"And if it's not?"
"Then I beat the osik out of the hutuun that sold it to me," Ninet said, matter-of-fact.
Marin didn't know all the words but she got the gist. She ignited her lightsaber. Ninet watched the gold-white blade extend without expression. Marin held it over the armor but didn't bring it down. The other girl her hesitation and said, "It's fine. It won't shab with your saber like cortosis."
"I know that," Marin said. Cortosis was a very rare, very expensive material, even more than beskar. Good for the Jedi on both counts. She held her saber over the breastplate of Ninet's armor and flicked the blade down.
It hissed against the metal; the metal kicked back in the way she wasn't used to getting from anything except another saber. Normally her weapon sheared through anything with an ease that was frankly scary.
Ninet crouched down and ran bare fingertips over the armor. Marin crouched too; she saw a straight shallow mark where her lightsaber had hit the beskar but the material was impressively resistant to her weapon's energy and heat, just like her mother always claimed.
Ninet nodded, satisfied. "Glad to see I got my money's worth."
"Your armor looks nice." Marin touched the smooth material.
"Nice?" Ninet arched a brow.
Probably not a Mando word, then. "Um, tough?"
She nodded; a little better. "I've always wanted to test it. Your buir doesn't like to break out her saber for some reason."
Marin had a decent idea why; her mother was descended from a Jedi, and she'd trained as a Jedi, but she'd never felt comfortable acting like one, and that included using a Jedi weapon. Marin knew her mother was good with one; she'd seen her spar with pretty able duelists and hold her own, but she still preferred a blaster.
"You don't have anyone else in your family who can touch the Force?" Marin asked. "Not a one?"
Ninet stood up; so did Marin. "It's not something we look out for or try to cultivate."
"I know." Marin's hand flexed on the shut-off saber; her palm was sweat-slick against its hilt. "I just thought that if it showed up for my mom and her sister, it would have shown up for more. I know the Force doesn't always pass down by blood- my uncle can't touch it at all- but still, I thought there'd be more."
Ninet regarded her. "How much do you know about our family?"
Our family, not your. It stung, strangely. "A little. I know our great-grandfather could use the Force and I know he was a pretty important figure on Mandalore."
"Kad'ika, they called him. Little Sword. The Sword of the Mandos, like they used to call your ba'buir Sword of the Jedi. He said we should stay on Mandalore and rebuild and stop fighting outsiders' wars. He got a lot of people to listen to him too."
Marin knew that; it was why the Mandos and Jedi had stayed out of eachothers' hair for a generation or so, until Auchs took over and put them back on the warpath. "I know his mother was a Jedi in the Old Republic. His father was a clone."
"That's right," Ninet said, "Except I'm not descended from either of them. You and your buir, yes, but not me and mine."
"Oh." Her mother had told her once that you could see the old clone genes if you knew what to look for; the sharp nose, the black hair, the slightly dark complexion. Marin and Tamar had those things. Ninet had them moreso.
Ninet sighed. "You buir didn't tell you anything else?"
"We haven't talked about it much. I don't see her that often." Marin passed her saber to the other hand and wiped the damp palm on her trouser.
Ninet walked over to a stool, sat down, and crossed her arms over her chest like a disappointed teacher. "My great-great grandfather was a clone too, but he didn't marry a jeti. His name was Ordo and he married an accountant."
Marin blinked. "An accountant?"
"Right. Toughest shabla number-cruncher in the Old Republic's tax department. After the Empire took over they fled to Mandalore along with a bunch of other clones who were deserting. Most of them got trained by a Mando drill sergeant named Kal Skirata. It's where the name comes from. Kal'ba'buir and his deserters had to stay on the run for a long time. A lot of good people died."
"I'm sorry." Marin didn't know what else to say. This was all ancient history, over a century old, but Ninet spoke like it was personal. That tone wasn't totally unfamiliar; many Jedi talked the same way when thinking of Palpatine's great purge a century ago, even though only a few old alien masters like K'Kruhk had been there personally.
"The Empire tried to squash us. A lot of Mando factions did too. But we're still here.
"What about Auchs?"
Ninet's scowl made her look so much older. "We've had better Mand'dalore and worse ones. He's basically teared down everything Kad'ika worked for so he's not popular in my family. Your buir hates his guts."
"I know." She could see it in Tamar's eyes, feel it in the Force. It was a hate she reserved for nothing else. It was more than just hating what he'd done to the Mandos or her grandfather's legacy. For her he was the source of her exile, the reason her life had gone irrevocably off track.
"My buir and I, our other relatives, we mostly keep to ourselves nowadays," Ninet went on. "Some mercenary work. Some bounty hunting. A lot like your buir, but our paths don't cross much. We lay low. Sometimes things get dirty."
Marin sighed and switched her saber back to her right hand. "It's all pretty different from Jedi school."
Ninet snorted softly. "You ever use that thing in a fight?"
"No. Sparring, yes. But never for real." Cautiously, she asked, "Have you ever been in a real fight?"
The other girl's expression went hard. She uncrossed her arms, gripped the sides of her stool, and leaned forward a little. "This one time I was with my buir and a few of his vode. We got hired to rob this storehouse, planet on the Outer Rim, you haven't heard of it. I hadn't until we went there. We got past the perimeter guards. Get inside the facility. When we got to the package we found he had a bunch of hired guards waiting. Big tough guys with lots of armor and guns, but no Mandos. So we got in a fight. My buir went ahead. I stayed back to cover him. Laser shots were flying everywhere. I heard people screaming."
Marin thought on her simple sparring matches with Vitor; the terrifying chaos of the riot in Ravelin. Those sounded like nothing compared to this. Ninet went on, merciless. "When they realized we had beskar and their blasters weren't doing osik against it they started using vibro-blades. I saw this big chakaar lunge at my buir. He was right behind him, with a big vibro-blade up high, ready to stab through the neck. I knew what I had to do. So I took aim and I shot. Took his shabla head off." She snapped her fingers. "Nothing but smoke and ash past his neck."
Marin breathed deep. She didn't know what to say or even feel. Ninet leaned back on the stood and said, "That's what we do to survive, jeti."
"It's not what I'm used to."
"You might have to get used to it."
"I thought Chorax was supposed to be safe."
"Maybe, maybe not." She nodded at the laid-out beskar. "Better be prepared either way."
-{}-
On the ride out to Chorax, Tamar sporadically checked the news-nets for the latest from Imperial space. No fresh attacks from the raiders, which was good. Head of State Veers was implementing new emergency security measures that included a full-scale planetary lockdown of Kalee, drawing even more ships from the Third Fleet. He'd authorized creation of a new department aimed at rooting out suspected terrorists, separate from the armed forces or police and answerable directly to the executive power, which seemed to Tamar like a disaster waiting to happen.
They had no clue who'd hired Auchs and company to stage a false-flag attack on the Chiss, but as Marin had pointed out, Imps were the likely suspect. As Tamar understood, Veers had been the moff at Yaga Minor but he had an intel background before that. He might have been the type to hire mercs to start a war between the Chiss and the raiders; it could easily have been the intel director himself, or some rogue officer acting on his own, with corporate backing. She could only hope Dorn's contact gave them information that could point the way.
There was other news coming out of Imperial space, also not encouraging. She caught one bit where two talking heads argued back and forth over unconfirmed leaks claiming that, at the Battle of Kalee, the Jedi had allowed the Grievous to flee the battle zone despite being nearby and having the opportunity to fire on it. One talking head claimed it might have been an unfortunate error in the heat of battle; the other cast aspersions that maybe the Jedi had allowed the Grievous to escape. A third blabbermouth joined in and claimed to have heard another leak that the order to let the Grievous run had come directly from Admiral Davek Fel and had been carried out by the Jedi Master in command of the closest ship: his brother Arlen.
And the worst part was, she could almost believe it. Not the part about Davek; he'd always come off as the good soldier, ultra-loyal to the Empire and willing to make the hard choices. But Arlen would let the ship flee, acting out of some instinct for mercy or a flash of Jedi intuition. In fact, as she remembered his face and shielded Force-aura after learning about what the Grievous had done, she did believe it. He'd listened to empathy or whispers from the Force and held his fire, maybe even against Davek's orders, and because of that act of generosity they'd all been dropped deep into osik.
"Oh, Arlen," she sighed. "You soft-shebs shabuire."
"You ever called him that to his face?" Dorn said from behind her.
She jerked upright in the co-pilot's chair. "Knock next time you come in."
"It's my ship." Dorn dropped into the pilot's seat. "Wanted to run some checks. We're about thirty minutes out of Chorax. Should get interesting soon."
"Right."
"What set you off?"
"Just thoughts. How's Marin?"
"You can't ask her yourself?"
"I have. Her answers never get past three syllables, four if I'm lucky."
"Teenagers."
Funny for him to say. Her cousin had been there to raise Ninet as a good tough Mando girl every step of the way. Dorn had been playing up the confused parent act since she'd come aboard but she knew he and Ninet had a close bond, the kind she definitely didn't have with Marin.
"Seriously," Tamar said, "What do you make of her?"
Dorn flipped a few switches, checked a few systems, and finally said, "Very Jedi."
"You're too cruel."
"Not saying that as a judgment. It's what she is. What her buir raised her to be."
Tamar still felt judged; buir meant 'father' and 'mother' both. "What was I going to do? She was three years old when we decided it couldn't last. I couldn't do merc and bounty hunter work with a kid strapped on my back. She was safer with Arlen. It was the right choice for her."
"Sure."
Dorn worked the console a little more. Tamar drummed her fingers on the armrest. "How are the others? Kragal? Mekr? Jind?"
"All hanging in there. Curious about you, mostly."
"They know about this mission?"
"A little. They know you're with me. Marin too."
Tamar grunted. It had been years since she'd seen some of her cousins. It felt strange enough introducing Marin to two relatives she'd never met before; throwing her into the middle of the whole shabla clan would be too much. The simple fact was that the girl was a Jedi, simple as. She'd never be a real Skirata that was that, even if the rest of her clan might politely pretend otherwise so mother and daughter could save face.
Normally Tamar could keep herself moving and pretend she wasn't living a pointless garbled mess of a life, but it was especially hard on this mission. Funny for a Mando, for whom family was supposed to be everything.
"You probably shouldn't stew all the way to Chorax," Dorn said. "Better get you kit and get ready."
"Right." Tamar pushed out of her chair. "I'll make sure the girls are suited up too."
She checked on Marin and Ninet first. Dorn's kid was already inside her red-and-white beskar'gam and checking her weapons. Marin had no such suit to slip into, but Tamar helped her strap on a few extra plasteel plates fitted for Ninet's torso. Marin threw one of her cousin's heavy sweaters over the armor, obscuring it, and a civilian jacket over that. According to Dorn their set-down location was going to be cool enough for a teenage girl in bulky clothes to go around and not attract attention. Armored Mandos drew eyes wherever they went, which was why the plan was for Marin to go ahead through the spaceport first, acting as a scout and then a shadow to make sure nobody else was trailing Tamar, Dorn, and Ninet.
When they set down on the planet things went like they were supposed to. The landing zone was a honeycomb of recessed pads walled off from each other. There was only one gate to get to each pad but the security barrier didn't look very sturdy. Dorn passed the spaceport manager an extra bribe to keep Harm's Way safe, which also allowed Marin to sneak ahead unseen and begin exploring the streets. The port was two-thirds empty and the town looked half a century past its prime. Snow flurries whirled through the air and stuck to white patches in building-shadows and ditches in dusty, mostly-unpaved streets. Everyone walked fast, head low against the wind, in a hurry to get someplace else. They all cleared out fast for the three marching Mandos.
"Charming planet," Tamar said into the private line that connected her with Dorn and Ninet's helmets, plus the short-range earpiece Marin wore. "Why are we meeting your friend here again?"
"Krevn Salvoc runs a smithy back on Mandalore," her cousin explained. "He's got a storehouse here. Some kind of special ore they mine in the mountain outside town."
"We're well outside of Mandalorian territory," Ninet said. "It should be a safe place to meet."
"Hopefully," Tamar grunted. "See anything, Marin?"
"No tails except me," the girl said. "Do you three know where you're going?"
"I do," said Dorn. "Industrial area. Coming up on our right. Keep following but keep a safe distance. When we get to the location stay a block away. We'll keep the channel open so you'll hear everything."
"Got it." Grim determination was strong in Marin's voice. She was overwhelmed and confused by all this but she'd soldier on and do what she had to.
They kept comm silence for a while after that. Dorn led them down empty lanes between high-roofed warehouses. Many of the metal building sides were scarred by rust; others were dented and a few buildings outright collapsed. Yet in the end Dorn led them to one that looked intact and reasonably secure. Tamar could see a few holo-cam emplacements near the entrance and at the corners which she assumed were in operation.
"Marin," she called, "Are you with us?"
"I am. I think I can get on top of the building caddy-corner to your warehouse. It's abandoned but there's a ladder to the roof."
"Good. Get up there and stay low. Listen but don't do anything unless we tell you to. Understood?"
"Got it. Good luck."
As Marin's line clicked off Dorn announced, "Get ready, people. We're in."
The side door to the warehouse creaked open on old rusted hinges. They found themselves looking back at a Mandalorian with battered gray armor and incongruous red highlights around the T-visor of his helmet.
The Mando waved for them to enter. Dorn went first, then Ninet. Tamar scanned the alleys around them before going in. Everything was deserted. When she stepped inside, she found they were under the broad roof of a massive storage chamber. Metals molded into sheets and beams were stretched out across heavy racks and stacked four layers high.
"Didn't realize you had such a large operation," Dorn said on his helmet's external speakers.
"Not the sort of thing you brag about." Salvoc reached up and removed his helmet, revealing a dark face with a light scar slanting over the bridge of a once-broken nose. "Don't wanna have to spend more on security for this place than I have to."
"What do you use?" Tamar asked, scanning the chamber.
"You can probably see. Automated turrets, some patrol droids. Nothing too expensive."
"Looks like a decent set-up." Dorn was the first of them to take off his helmet. Ninet followed, and a little hesitantly, so did Tamar. She kept the audio feed running from her buy'c so Marin could listen into the conversation, but if her daughter had to alert her to something she'd have to use the Force.
Salvoc waved them toward a small room to the side of the main warehouse. It looked like a drab office you'd find on industrial sites galaxy-wide. Datacards and even hard paper volumes were piled on the small desk. Salvoc went to an old cabinet and pulled out a bottle of something clear as water but surely alcoholic.
Sharing something super-strong with your guests was typical Mando hospitality. Salvor fetched three small glasses from the same cabinet and asked, "Your ad'ika drinking too?"
Ninet opened her mouth but Dorn clamped his daughter's shoulder. "Three's fine."
Salvoc put his shot glass on the desk; they put down their helmets. As he raised his glass Salvoc told Ninet, "Sorry I didn't get anything for you, lass. Didn't know you were coming."
Ninet simply nodded, bristling a little at not being treated like a full grown-up yet. The others tipped back and swallowed. It burned hard, even for a Mando drink.
"What the shab is this?" Dorn coughed.
"Local delicacy, if you can call it that," Salvoc grinned and shoved the bottle back in his cabinet. "Okay. Ready to get down to business?"
"Very," said Tamar. She was no stranger to strong drink but it felt like it was already rushing to her head.
Salvoc placed his hands on his hips. "So I've got to ask, how did that lead to Broken Moon turn out?"
"We've got information," Dorn said, guarded.
The other Mando chuckled. "Aye, I get it, you're playing things close to the chest. Not that I blame you."
"What do you have for us?" asked Ninet.
"If you'd have us fly all the way to this hole, it's got to be something," added Tamar.
"Right you are, lass." Salvoc reached into his desk, fished through the drawer, then tossed out a single datacard.
Dorn took it. "What's it got?"
"Audio copy of a conversation I had with a guy who was part of Auchs' mission to the Unknown Regions."
"Did this guy know he was being recorded?" Tamar's words slurred a little, surprising her. Fierfek, that drink had been strong.
"No, and he never will. Just like I never gave you this message. Understand?"
"Very," said Dorn. For a second he wavered on his feet; he had to put a hand to the desk to steady himself. The drink was getting to him too. "Wanna tell me what's on it?"
"You're gonna wanna listen to it yourself." Salvoc seemed smooth and steady. "But basically, he tells a very dramatic and probably accurate story about an attack on one of those raider hives."
Dorn stared down at the datacard, frowning. Tamar frowned too. Her vision swam a little; she steadied herself with a hand on Ninet's back. The girl said, "Is that what Auchs went into the Unknown Regions for?"
"Apparently. Didn't tell me who hired them, though."
"He didn't?" asked Tamar. Something wasn't right. Salvoc had either gotten info on another Mando mission they hadn't heard about.
Dorn grunted, "That ain't what happened."
That wasn't what happened. That drink wasn't alcohol. Salvoc had set them up. It all came to Tamar in an instant but in her addled state an instant was too long. Suddenly they were there: three fully-armed and armored Mando warriors bursting through the office door. Dorn went for his gun, too slow. Salvoc grabbed his arm, twisted it, and threw him face-first and hard onto the desktop.
One of the newcomers slammed his shoulder-plates into Tamar's chest, throwing her against the wall. Ninet hadn't been drugged so she moved faster, whipping out a beskar shortknife and going at two of the newcomers like she could slip it in their ribs. She was good but they were two big strong men and she was just a teenage girl. One punched her in the stomach, bending her over; the other grabbed her wrists, twisted the knife from her hand, then pinned her struggling body against his broad armored chest.
"Chakaar!" Dorn snapped. "Set us up!"
"I'm sorry," Sevoc grunted and didn't let Dorn go. "They didn't give me a choice."
"Don't be too hard on him, Skirata," someone new said. "He was just being loyal to his Mand'alor."
Tamar knew that voice. Even though they'd drugged her, even though she hadn't heard it in person in almost two shabla decades.
Auchs still had the same silver-and-green armor; it had picked up more pocks and scars in all those years but it was clearly the same set. At his shoulder was a shorter, stouter figure in violet armor. Galaset, probably.
"Gevern shabla Auchs," Dorn hissed. For Marin's benefit, Tamar realized. "What brought you all the way out to this hole? Four buddies too. Couldn't get more?"
Auchs ignored him and tilted his visor toward Tamar. "Been a long time, dar'manda jeti."
Tamar remembered: Marin listening in on this conversation, bleeding confusion through the Force. The lightsaber in the hidden compartment at her belt. Her captor had pinned her arms behind her back but she didn't need hands to ignite or throw it.
She'd never be a real Jedi or anything close, but she'd picked up tricks she could do even with an addled mind. She reached out with the Force, felt the button to her great-grandmother's saber, and pressed it down.
A blue beam of light stabbed down from her hip, scraping against the beskar legplate of the man behind her. It took him by surprise; his grip weakened. Tamar wrenched one arm free, grabbed her saber, and lunged forward. Her captor held tight to her other harm, holding her out of reach from Auchs, but she used the Force to fling it, a pinwheel of deadly light, right at hate's object.
The Mand'alor sidestepped. The saber skimmed across the shoulder of the Mando next to him, then tumbled into the storage chamber beyond. At the same time Galaset pivoted on his heel, raised his pistol, and popped off a single impeccable shot that caught the spinning lightsaber in mid-air and burst its metal body apart.
The saber's wreckage spilled across the duracrete floor. Pain of loss stabbed Tamar's heart but Ninet was already moving. She managed to wrench partway free of her captor, swipe an arm low, and grab the beskar blade she'd dropped on the floor with an underhand grip. As her captor pulled her back up she brought the blade with her and jabbed it hard into the man's thigh, slipping around his armor plate, digging deep into muscle and arteries. Bright red blood spurted out.
"Run!" Dorn shouted above the screams of the wounded Mando. "Go go go!"
Ninet was a smart girl; she knew there was nothing she could do for her father, not here, not with five stronger commandos still able-bodied.
Tamar gave her the only help she could: a shove with the Force that knocked Auchs and Galaset back. Ninet grabbed her knife with one hand and sprayed covering fire with her pistol in her other and she sprinted for the exit.
"Ninet, go!" Dorn shouted, and Tamar reached out to her daughter in the Force, telling Ninet's escaped find Ninet protect Ninet both of you get out of here if you can go go go go go
Then something hard collided with the back of her head and that was all.
-{}-
Marin felt her mother's thoughts stop suddenly, like her consciousness had been extinguished, but there was no pain with it, just a sudden halt. Her mother was still alive; she had to believe that, just like she needed to act, right now, to help Ninet.
Relayed audio and Tamar's Force-sensations had told her enough. She scrambled across the slanting, broken rooftop of the abandoned warehouse across from Salvoc's place. There were still no Mandos outside and she'd seen none enter; Auchs and his men must have been waiting inside from the beginning.
The door burst open and Ninet sprinted out: armor on, no helmet. Laser blasts flashed through the doorway and a few panged off her beskar, not hurting her but throwing her off-balance. Marin watched as two warriors burst out of the warehouse and ran after her.
Marin didn't know what to do; she could ignite her lightsaber, jump down, try to take on both armored men at once, but even with surprise on her side she'd probably just get herself killed.
But she had to do something. She ran across the edge of the roof, keeping pace with the Mandos as they chased Ninet. The building she was on was falling apart; at the far end the ceiling had caved in leaving a weak and free-standing wall.
That was it. She's used the Force to move objects before, and to speed or slow her own movements. She'd never tried it on anything this big before and never in a situation this desperate.
It was all she could do. Just as the Mandos reached the edge of the building she crouched, grabbed the edge of the crumbling rooftop, and swung off it. She hurled herself feet-first toward the free-standing chunk of wall. Her boots impacted; she pushed with all her body, with the Force. The wall moved beneath her, tipping over, falling into the street.
She wasn't sure what happened next. Smoke and dust filled the air, blinding her, choking her lungs. She sprawled across hard metal and then across dirt. She heard muffled swearing but she couldn't tell from which direction.
Then a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her upright. Ninet said, "Thanks for the save. Let's move."
They ran without looking back at the broken wall, the Mandos, the place where their parents were prisoners.
