Forging the Future

by An Origami Fish

War on a scale the galaxy hasn't seen before has just broken out, the Yuuzhan Vong effortlessly destroying Sernpidal. Jedi Knight Tyria Sarkin Tainer must make the decision to send her son to a Mandalorian training camp so he can learn the skills necessary to survive. Join Doran as he meets new friends and enemies and discovers more about himself in his year with the Mandos.

27. Forging a Clan

Forging a Clan

FtF I FtF

"You don't have to do this, you know," Doran said in a low voice as he stepped off the mag-lev with Dinua. The second they left the climate-controlled train, they were confronted with the natural sweltering, muggy heat of the outdoor train-station. Doran flinched in reaction, immediately feeling his shirt begin to stick to himself. "I'm going to be out of Mando space soon. We can just report to the clan leaders and…"

"Di'kut, shut up," Dinua said succinctly. It had been the most she had said during their several hour journey away from Keldabe and towards the planet's equator. She had spent the train-ride in complete silence, staring out the window but more than likely not seeing any of the sights. The rest of the group had remained quiet out of respect for her, and Doran's words were the first among them since the trip began.

"Doran," Jintar said in a tone more serious than usual. "We let this threat to one of our aliit go unanswered, and several very bad things happen. Mainly, we're viewed as weak, cowardly, untrustworthy. And it won't be just us, but our clans as well."

"Every action we do reflects the lessons taught to us by our clan," Tracyn continued. "Sure you might be gone in twenty or so days. But in that time, if you get hurt and we did nothing to try and stop the assassins from acting in the first place, it will tell all of Manda'yaim that we don't care for our own."

"But you guys are talking about taking on an entire professional guild of assassins," Doran protested. "Willow, back me up. Do we look like the sort of people capable of taking on a guild of killers?"

"No."

"Thank you…"

"But if the situation was reversed and the death mark was on one of the others, I can easily see you going to the ends of the galaxy to make sure they're safe," Willow said evenly, holding Doran's gaze. "After all, you went further for Master Bridger, and you barely knew him. What's a guild of professional assassins compared to a Yuuzhan Vong battlefleet?"

"This is why Jedi and Mandalorians should never team up," Doran groaned as they left the train station. "Jedi have their own unique brand of crazy. Mandalorians have their own unique brand of crazy. If you mix them, you get one unique brand of super-crazy that'll kill pretty much anyone else trying to attempt it. And before you tell me to suck it up, Dinua, I'm not complaining. Just pointing out that this is probably another one of those reasons why Mandalorian and Jedi don't team up more often. Both sides know that that brand of super-crazy is too crazy, even for us."

Tracyn laughed at that as she tried to fan herself with her hand. "I'll agree to that. Now let's get out of the sun before we all melt."

"Why does Clan Rook have to live out here in the middle of nowhere?" Willow asked, following the group into the shade of a speeder lot. "The only thing I see from here is jungle."

"Mostly because of their reputation," Jintar explained. "Clan Rook is notorious for being, well, notorious. If it's illegal on a civilized world, one of their people is probably involved in it."

"So how do we get to where they are? Don't tell me we have to walk through the jungle," Willow questioned, trying to pull the fabric of her shirt away from her body.

"No," Tracyn laughed as she led them to a small clearing next to the station. "Between the five-meter long fanned rawls and the packs of jaggalors that roam the forest, any hike would be suicide."

"Speeders?" Doran asked.

Tracyn laughed again as she unclipped her helmet from her belt and put it on. "Not if you want to crash into a tree at several dozen kph. This is Empress Gedyc, commence drop of requested asset using my location."

"Tracyn," Dinua said flatly. "This is Manda'yaim. Don't tell me you're delivering Kyr'tsad resources through the Protectorate defense network."

"Don't worry, my people are using Protectorate IFF transponders. Unless the patrols actually know ahead of time that the heavy transport isn't actually one of theirs, it looks completely legitimate."

"Heavy transport? What are you dropping?" Doran nearly leaped out of his shoes when a single, towering drop-container landed with a ground-shaking thud directly in front of them. As it was, he lost his footing and ending up on his backside.

Dinua and Jintar weren't as undignified in their surprise, but definitely uttered a string of curses and insults directed towards Kyr'tsad and Tracyn's ancestry as they staggered backwards. For her part, Willow just stared wide-eyed at the giant, cylindrical container, her mouth moving silently.

Tracyn smirked at the reactions of her friends and pressed a button on her left gauntlet. The walls of the container fell away to reveal their contents. "Ta da!"

"A walker!?" Doran rasped from his position on the ground.

Jintar likewise indignant, but for a different reason "And what was with that drop? You nearly squashed us with that AT-ST!"

"That's not the important part," Dinua said in disbelief. "How'd a faction of Kyr'tsad come into possession of an Imperial walker?"

Doran felt like facepalming due to the priorities of his friends, but listened to Tracyn's explanation. "Remember when you visited my home base? I told you before that we were doing business with the Remnant. Some of the Moffs wanted to hedge their bets too. In the event that Kyr'tsad comes out on top, they'd have our gratitude and support. My people modified this one to seat four with a top-side gunner position giving it a capacity of five. The two back seats control the heavy laser cannons you see mounted on the sides, and the pilot can control the plasma-mortar launcher on the back."

"So they just sold you a walker?"

"Who said they only us one?" Tracyn said with a sly grin.

Both Dinua and Jintar were left gobsmacked by that as Tracyn by all rights sauntered to the walker.

"Do you know where we're going?" Willow asked, following the Death Watch leader.

"Mhm. I visited their place earlier in the year," Tracyn glanced pointed at Doran. "It was that big lug's fault by the way."

"What…oh, right. The time he faked his death to fool Clan Rook into letting their guard down and ended up freaking you out at the same time."

"He tell you about that?"

Just as she was about to answer, Willow saw Dinua pass her and begin to climb up onto the walker. The younger girl smirked impishly and pitched her voice so the older teen would hear her every word. "We spent the first couple of days in close quarters, sharing stories and other things of a more delicate nature."

"Oh?" Tracyn tilted her head questioningly.

"If you know what you're doing, the Force allows its users to bond on a fairly intimate level," Willow said airly. "And Doran definitely knows what to do with what he has."

"Di'kut," Dinua said through a clenched jaw, having halted her ascent.

"Dinua?"

Her smile was positively murderous as she looked back down at him. "You'll be with Skirata and me in that passenger area. We'll let Gedyc and the dar'manda have the front seats."

"O…kay?"

"Hey, what'd you call me dar'manda for? I know what that means!" Willow squawked in protest.

"If you know what it means, I'm sure you can use your Jedi intuition to figure it out," Dinua replied her voice sickeningly sweet as she joined Willow atop the walker. Sensing what was happening, Tracyn beat a hasty retreat into it.

"I know who I am."

"Do you? You better get inside the walker, dar'manda. Those not used to the strength of Manda'yaim's climate often underestimate it to their own peril. Especially if they're delicate in body or just plain ignorant. You know, like a Jedi might be."

"After you, Dinua. The heat seems to be getting the best of you. You're becoming delusional."

Doran and Jintar shared nervous looks as the two girls smiled at each other from opposite sides of the hatch. There was nothing friendly about said smile, and their gazes could have burned apart anything caught between them.

"I'm thinking walking might be safer," Jintar muttered under his breath. "The heat isn't all that bad and the weather's nice."

"Agreed," Doran quickly followed Jintar by hopping off the walker's folded leg and back to the ground. "We were sitting down for a while in the train. Us tall guys need to stretch our legs and all that."

"Skirata."

"Doran."

"Get inside the walker." Both girls finished in unison.

"Yes, ma'am," both boys said as one.

They all squeezed into the walker, with Doran somehow being the one that had to stand in the well of the topside turret. Despite that, he found he didn't mind. The walker rose to its full height and Doran was treated to a magnificent view of the entire valley below.

The verdant jungle between the two sloping cliffs of reddish-brown rock just had a wild and untamed feel about it. The many lives it contained within resonated loudly in the Force, unspoiled by the vast cities that were found on most civilized worlds. The flora stretched out for as far as Doran could see, avian-like critters occasionally flying from one treetop to another. It was one of the last things Doran expected to see on a world like Mandalore. Especially after seeing Keldabe and the Kyrimorut.

"Even in the walker, the trip is going to be another couple of hours," Tracyn called out from the pilot's seat. She set the walker in motion, and it began to descend the rocky path into the jungle. "Hairless Baby Wookie One, there are a couple of cat-like predators that might jump down from the upper branches. You can do your Jedi thing if you don't want to kill them, but that dual laser cannon in front of you can work just as well. It's designed for blasting starfighters, so you shouldn't have any issue vaping them."

"Right. I'll just use the Force to keep them at a distance then. Willow, mind linking up with me? If we can keep the wildlife from thinking we're food, we don't have to blast anything."

"Not a problem," Willow replied, looking over her shoulder at him with a smile. "It's a good thing we had all that practice linking up. Even if the trip is an hour or two, we should be able to maintain the field the entire time."

Doran felt Dinua's annoyance once again spike and looked pleadingly at Willow as she established their meld. Do you have to antagonize her?

Hey, at least she's no longer thinking about Clan Rook and what Overd did to her. Willow sent back, casually turning back around and sitting in her chair. Before she had all that destructive energy aimed at herself. Now it's aimed at someone who can take it. Didn't you tell me that a Mando's worse enemy is themselves?

Doran held the grips of the turret and forced himself to gaze about the greenery they were passing through. Even then. You might want to stay out of her head. I kind of gave her a crash-course in resisting mental intrusions when she was recovering from Overd. It went hand-in-hand with rebuilding her mental fortitude.

I only looked at the surface stuff. Besides, even a youngling could sense the emotions she was leaking. There's a fine line between suffering in silence because you can take it and suffering in silence because you're stupid.

Dinua swatted Doran's leg. "Stop talking about me when I'm sitting right here, Di'kut."

"What? How'd you know Willow and I were…" Doran groaned and let his head lightly thunk against the turret. "You guessed."

"It was pretty obvious," Jintar said sympathetically. "No offense to you and Willow, but when the two of you are together, you talk…a lot."

"That and you two went silent after forming whatever Jedi meld you were talking about," Tracyn added lightly.

"But how'd you know we were talking about Dinua?" Doran asked.

"Who else would you need to talk to Willow about in complete privacy?" Jintar answered.

"So I'll repeat myself. Stop talking about me when I'm right here, Di'kut," Dinua grumbled, staring out the port window with her arms folded in front of her chest. "I'm fine. I'm a Mandalorian, no matter the challenge, I will overcome it."

Willow studied the older teen for a moment, before shrugging. "Alright. If you say so. I'll just talk to Doran about other things then. Don't mind us."

"Hasn't anyone told you to never poke a sleeping mythosaur?" Tracyn laughed.

"Aren't mythosaurs those giant lizard things that looked terrifying but were driven to extinction by the Taungs?"

"They are the emblem the Mandalorian Protectorate uses," Tracyn nodded.

"But the mythosaurs were killed off by just swords and axes wielded by guys in loincloths. That doesn't really say much for the Protectorate then." Willow delivered the line with the utmost of innocence.

As both Dinua and Jintar voiced their umbrage and Tracyn declared Willow to be her new little sister, Doran just sagged back in the turret and groaned. The next couple of hours were definitely going to be very long ones.

FtF II FtF

Doran didn't know what to expect Clan Rook's homestead to look like. Clan Skirata was a hole in the ground at the edge of a densely wooded forest. The Mandalorians of Keldabe lived in houses and apartments made up of various materials in a bustling city. The ones in Sundari, Doran was told, lived in a modern, techno-world beneath a metal bubble. Given how the last two hours had been spent tromping through a flourishing jungle full of all sorts of flora and fauna, Doran half expected the members of Clan Rook to live in a Mandalorian treehouse.

What Doran didn't expect was a small village of thatched-roofed, mud-brick huts on either side of a winding river. The buildings closest to the river all had water-wheels that steadily rotated in the current. The banks of the river were reinforced with earthen and wood walls, irrigation channels branching off on both sides of the river. The two sides themselves were connected by a series of arching stone and wood bridges. The males present were all shirtless and tanned, all hard at work at one task or another. Working alongside them were the females, their own attire minimalistic in the oppressive muggy heat of the jungle. There was a multitude of races present; human, Twi'lek, Zabrak, Duros, and more.

What stood out was that there were barely any signs of advanced technology at all. No speeders were visible, or blasters, or even electric generators. In fact, the armed individuals Doran could see wielded metal spears and swords, or bow-and-arrows. After the glitzy, tech-filled cities, or gritty backwaters that Doran was used to seeing, it felt like he had just stepped right onto the set of some period-piece holo-drama.

The arrival of his group via a towering AT-ST certain attracted all sorts of attention. The walker itself stopped just outside a wooden palisade, the two guards manning a guardtower not showing even a hint of intimidation. The rest of what Doran could only call a village began to gather, doing the exact opposite of what people facing an Imperial walker would normally do.

"Welcome to our village," the guard in the tower called out. "Mine disembarking from your walker, strangers?"

Tracyn lowered the walker into its inactive stance, and the group of teens did as directed. Dinua was the last to emerge, and when she did, it was obvious she was immediately recognized. The tower guards immediately clasped a fist to their chests, while the rest of the crowd snapped to attention.

"Clan Leader, apologies, we did not know you were coming," the tower guard said professionally.

"I did not want anyone to know," Dinua replied neutrally. "At ease. I'm here to talk with Beroya Rook."

The tower guard hesitated for a minute. "Clan Leader, I regret to inform you that Beroya Rook was killed by hu'tuune kyramude last week. He had gone to Keldabe for a meeting and his vehicle had been bombed."

Dinua took the news in without emotion. "Then who has been in charge of the Clan in his stead?"

"Beroya Rook's eldest children, Clan Leader," the tower guard answered. "Nauur and Balac Rook."

"Joint leadership?"

The guard looked uncomfortable. "They are of different mothers. To keep the peace, they both agreed to share power."

"Has peace been kept?"

If possible, the guard looked even more awkward. "They are of different beliefs regarding the clan's future."

"Then lead me to them," Dinua directed. "The rest of you can continue about your business."

The guard was replaced by another as he led the quintet of teens through the village.

"The beliefs they hold, how are they different?" Dinua asked mildly.

After a moment of ordering his words, the guard answered. "Balac believes that Clan Rook is superior to many of the current leading clans and that we should not settle for anything less than a ruling seat on the Tsad Droten. Nauur is more like her father and believes that we should continue as we are, remaining humble and adhering to the Way."

"And is the clan leaning towards one direction or the other?"

"Speaking honestly, Clan Leader, the clan is divided. Most of the younger generation follow Balac, with some of the older Mandalorians likewise voicing their support for his position. The opposite is true for Nauur, who has a majority of support from the older generation and a smattering of support from those closer to her age. At the moment, the clan is adhering to the terms you set on Gargon. But that was when Beroya was in power. It is uncertain if the arrangement will hold if one faction or the other gains full control."

The group was led to a single-story mud building several dozen meters long. Making the Mandalorian teens very unhappy, they were told to relinquish their weapons before they were allowed entry. A curtain of wooden beads acted as the building's door. Passing through the threshold, however, the teens were surprised to feel the familiar tingle of a mag-con field. Inside was pleasantly cooler than the outside, much more high-tech than the outside as well. The walls were metal, the lights were electrical, and the environment was controlled. Doran had to look back outside at the village for a moment to make sure he hadn't imagined anything.

For once he was glad that there was another Jedi with the group, because he could likewise sense Willow's bewilderment from the bond they had established.

"Yeah, so every Mandalorian clan is different," Doran muttered in a low voice, trying his best to sound like he hadn't been caught off guard. "Some are more…out there than others."

"You had to deal with this for the entire year?"

"This is mild compared to some of the stuff I've told you about."

They fell silent as they were directed into a room with a long rectangular table. Wooden chairs were arranged on one side of the table, facing two throne-like chairs on a raised pedestal. A side door on either side of the room hissed open and an individual came through each. The first individual was probably in her thirties, or older, but in very good shape. Her hawk-like gaze swept over the group as she made her way to one of the thrones with predatory grace.

When Doran looked to the other individual, however, it was as if time had slowed down. Dinua saw the second arrival at the same time he did, and when she did, she immediately reached for her empty holster. Her hand coming up empty, she vaulted over the table. She would have given the Rook leader a broken jaw, and got the rest of the group gunned downed by the guards in the room, if Doran hadn't literally Force-yanked her into his arms

"Doran!" Dinua's eyes were wide and wild as she struggled to break free of his grip. "He's…"

"Shhh…Dinua. It's not him," Doran simply murmured. But there was nothing simple about it. The second leader of Clan Rook was the spitting image of Overd Rook, straight down to his gait, hair style, and mannerisms. The only difference was that Balac Rook was slightly more rotund than Overd. "Probably a twin brother or something like that."

Now that the difference in appearance was registering, Dinua sagged back against Doran, still breathing heavily. "Twin brother."

"Apologies, Clan Leader," Balac said almost lazily, not sounding apologetic at all. He gestured to the guards to stand down and then finished his trip to his chair, lounging in it as if he didn't have a care in the world. "I hadn't realized that the inconvenience you faced earlier this year would still bother you. I can definitely see why you caught my brother's eyes though. You definitely have the sort of mandokar he was into."

"Hey, copaani mirshmure'cye, vod?" Jintar practically growled, his voice an octave deeper than usual. "You're just lucky I don't have my blaster right now."

"Dinua, if you want, I can call in an orbital strike," Tracyn said with the same amount of hostility. Her cybernetic red eye glowed bright and her blue eye showed no hint of warmth. "Maybe raze half the village? If this guy represents half the clan, it's within your right to wipe them off the face of this planet."

"Now, now," Balac said with a casual smile. "There's no need…."

He trailed off and went completely pale. Jintar, Willow, and Tracyn blinked in confusion and looked to Doran for answers. Only to see his normally kind face completely emotionless, his eyes flinty and focused on the clan leader. Dinua, who had looked up from his chest at the silence, saw the change.

"Doran?" She said softly, looking back and forth between Balac and Doran.

Balac was visibly trembling in his seat, his mouth opening in a silent scream as sweat beaded on his forehead. His counterpart on the other throne looked on almost fearfully.

"Doran," Dinua repeated. But Doran's focus didn't change.

A trickle of blood started to drip from one of Balac's nostrils, the man sliding out of the throne. An oppressive aura seeped out and filled the air, causing the nearby guards to shift uneasily and take several steps back.

Seeing this, Dinua extracted herself from Doran's arms and immediately stood in front of him, breaking his field of vision. Still, Balac continued to suffer, gripping his head and moaning in terror. She gripped Doran's face and headbutted him hard, the force knocking him backwards and causing the chair to topple over. The aura immediately vanished.

"Ow! What the heck, Dinua?" Doran blurted, looking stunned.

"Like you said, it's not him." Dinua rubbed her forehead ruefully. She crouched down to his eye-level. "He might be every bit a utreekov as the one stricken from the records, but it's not him."

Almost as if it had just dawned on him, Doran looked frantically towards Balac. The man was completely pale, and when he swatted away attempts to help him stand, fell back down onto his backside. Balac gripped the armrests of the throne and pulled himself into it. He reached up to wipe his nose, and when it came away red, he turned towards Doran manically.

"What are you waiting for? Shoot the Jedi!" Balac yelled at the guards, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Stand down," Nauur Rook countermanded immediately.

"Nauur!"

"That Jedi is part of our Clan Leader's aliit. We'd be declaring ourselves dar'manda for doing something as cowardly as assaulting our clan leader's family," Nauur said with disdain. "Your big mouth brought that upon you. If you've forgotten, the only reason why we're allowed to be on this planet is because of her."

"Chekar had the right idea when he left the clan," Balac hissed bitterly. "It's become weak and stupid."

"Yes, your side of the family is definitely filling up our quota for stupid," Nauur said with a fake smile. "Now let us see what has brought the Clan Leader over to our homestead."

Dinua and Doran had taken their seats again, with Doran steadfastly refusing to meet the gazes of the rest of his friends. A part of him felt embarrassed for what he had just done, and a small part of him felt a little frightened. Once again, the Mandalorian mentality of defending friends and family at all cost overrode his Jedi moral code. It was something that had become almost reflexive towards the latter half of his stay with the Mandos. Having refrained for the most part from using the Force as a crutch for most the year, and then suddenly using it again because of the Force-bond he had established, had his thoughts bouncing all over the place. He recalled Dinua telling him that he wasn't a Mandalorian. But he also had told her he wasn't really a Jedi either. Had he just been fooling himself? He tuned out Dinua's voice as she explained their situation, choosing instead to rest his hands on the table and stare at them. He didn't know why, and he'd hate to leave all the friends he had made, but he was starting to look forward to that day he left Mando space for good.

FtF III FtF

As the sun started to set, Doran threw another smooth round pebble across the water of the lake and watched it skip across the surface. The lake itself was a small hike away from the homestead and was one of several sources for the river that flowed through it. After the meeting, the group had been invited to stay at the homestead while their concerns were investigated.

Chekar Rook, a half-brother to Nauur and Balac, had been exiled from the clan by his father after the incident on Gargon. It was rumored that Chekar had joined the Bane Consortium, and that Chekar might still have had connections to the clan unbeknownst to Beroya. It was not unheard of for a member of the clan to join the Bane Consortium, however. Certain groups within the Consortium prided themselves on having 'Mandalorian muscle,' and paid very well for the services of the clan-members. Chekar was just the first of the clan to join after being kicked out of said clan. After being exiled, it was said that he had joined up with a 'chaavla' group of individuals who existed in the shadows of Mandalorian society. Given that chaavla meant 'rough' and that the Mandalorians had their own category for that type of 'rough,' Doran could only imagine the type of people Chekar had fallen in with.

Jintar and Tracyn had initially indicated their desire to return to the city and await word there, but Dinua decided to stay with the clan she was technically in charge of. Of course, with her staying, the others decided to stay too. Not that they were going to trust Rook one bit. Instead, the quintet had asked for and received camping supplies. After asking around, they decided to choose the lake, and were now bivouacked out by its shore.

"Here," Dinua handed Doran a grilled fish on a stick.

"Thanks," Doran absently took it, continuing to stare out across the body of water.

"Back then. That was Force Fear?" Dinua asked. She took a seat on a flat stone nearby and pulled her legs up to her chest. "The dar'manda explained it to me. Said it's a technique dar'jetii use to incapacitate their opponents."

"Picked it up in my travels," Doran confirmed, his hand tightening around the skewer. His stomach churned as he recalled his mental attack. It wasn't like she had brought up anything new. He had been brooding since the meeting. He looked back to the camp and saw both Tracyn and Jintar play-sparring with Willow. He was glad that the younger Force-user was otherwise occupied. He wasn't making a good teacher at the moment. "Mandos are supposedly fearless, hard-headed. He wasn't any different. I couldn't use his dark moments, so I basically recreated a memory of what you went through, only with him in your place."

Dinua's eyebrows shot up. "Oh."

"Sorry," Doran murmured.

"What for?" Dinua rested her chin on the tops of her knees.

"Not letting you hit him," Doran chuckled mirthlessly. He sat crosslegged on the ground. "Would have saved the both of us some grief."

"Di'kut," the fondness in Dinua's voice mixed with a touch of humor. "You're the one who attacked him, why do you feel any grief at all?"

"I used a dark Jedi power."

"You said it yourself, you're not exactly a Jedi."

"But I try to stay on the right side of the Force."

"Which side is that?"

"The one that doesn't involve using my powers to beat up idiots," Doran cocked his head at her in slight annoyance. "The Force isn't meant to be used to inflict pain. It'd be like you having a blaster and kneecapping someone who annoyed you just because you could. Sure you can do it, but it's not who you are."

"You fear the other side of the Force, the dark side." Dinua stated without any ill-meaning.

"Only an idiot doesn't," Doran sighed, turning back away from her. "Unlike you kneecapping someone, if you use the Force to dominate, oppress, hurt, it shows. Your eyes get yellow or red, your skin gets extra pale or develops dark black veins, and you have an instinctive aura of…evil."

"Jedi don't have the monopoly on evil, Di'kut," Dinua said in turn. "Balac's twin is an example of that."

"I know that," Doran exhaled slowly. "Look, before I came to Gargon, I'll admit that I was a dar'manda. I thought of myself as a Jedi because that's what my mom is. I learned Jedi lessons and skills, did the Jedi thing in situations, and otherwise accepted that I was going to be a Jedi when I got older. When I came to Gargon, you challenged me to live without the Force. It was hard, annoying, and the reason why was because as a Jedi, the Force was all I had. So without it, I had to pick up a whole new identity. A whole new set of skills. Mandalorian skils and lessons. Mandalorian values. Learning to do the Mandalorian thing in situations."

"And like you said, you aren't really a Mando either."

"Yeah. But because of those lessons. Lessons that definitely make sense and will help me live outside of the sheltered bubble we Jedi tend to find ourselves in, I'm not really a Jedi. But being 'Doran'…it's not easy being 'Doran' either. Jedi and Mandalorians have fought off and on throughout the ages. They just have too different a perspective and belief on how they should live their lives. Being Doran means that I now have to decide, do I respond like a Mandalorian in a situation, like a Jedi, like both? That 'Doran' back there was me responding to a situation like both. Using Jedi powers in a way you Mandos would approve. For a Mando, you're taught to use every weapon at your disposal to neutralize an enemy as quickly and efficiently as possible. For a Jedi, if you let your closest friends suffer or be hurt when you could have stopped it, you're a failure."

"You combined the two and ended up using a dar'jetii technique."

"That about sums it up." Doran leaned back on the palms of his hands to stare up at the starry sky. "I did the one thing that would have gotten disproval from both Jedi and Mandos. I used a dark, Force technique. The real kicker is that I didn't even have to do it. All Balac was doing was running his mouth. Hardly a life or death moment."

Dinua was silent for a long while, and when she did speak, her voice wasn't as strong as Doran had expected it to be. "Back when we had that sparring match. When you had me pinned, I saw something in your eyes…something that wasn't you. Or maybe it was and I never bothered to see it before. We Mando'ade have this drive to survive, to surpass our limits at the expense of ourselves. Gedyc over there embodies that perfectly. I never expected to see that in you."

"A drive to survive? I don't want to die as much as the next mentally stable person."

"How many times have you had prolonged stays in a bacta tank this year?" Dinua said dryly. "Jedi have a distinct lack of self-preservation instincts, and you embodied that perfectly too."

"So what? I suddenly became afraid of losing my life?" Doran side-armed another rock across the lake's surface.

"No," Dinua's voice was almost a whisper. "I think you suddenly became afraid of being the only one left."

Doran's arm stopped mid-motion and he lowered the rock he was about to throw. He shook his head, but didn't meet her eyes. "You, Jintar, even Tracyn probably have a better chance of surviving this war than I do."

"When my mom died, I was alone," Dinua ignored his comment and turned her own gaze to the stars. "Alone and scared. If this war could take out the strongest woman I'd ever known, what chance did I have? What chance did any of us have? I went nearly a full year and a half thinking that way. I had to become or'ramikad if I wanted to have even the slightest chance of surviving. Of making sure that I was strong enough to keep anyone else I cared for from dying. Until I was that strong, I couldn't afford friends. Barely acknowledged my fathers. Then you came to Gargon and messed it all up."

Doran closed his eyes and half-smiled. "Sorry."

"When you bested me in the fighting circle, I think you realized that you were far more skilled than you thought you were. That you matched, or even surpassed Jintar and myself. Gedyc too. You had me tap out because I think that idea frightened you. You still considered yourself a weak, quasi-Jedi, quasi-Mando Di'kut who was just trying to learn all he could to survive the war. But if you were weak and bested me and Jintar, what did that make us? You know that when the war picks up, Jintar and I will probably be on the frontlines. Unless things go really poorly, or good for that matter, you'll probably be lightyears from the frontlines. Just like I'm worried about who'll have your back when you leave, you're worried about who will have Jintar and mine's."

Doran didn't respond, realizing that she had hit at the heart of his problem. This was the longest he had stayed in one place. Traveling around the galaxy with his mom was great and all—he doubted no one else had seen all the sights and visited all the places his mom had taken him to—but it sometimes got lonely. Sure he made friends on his many adventures and misadventures; had a couple back at Yavin. But this was the first time he had made real friendships that he could see lasting years. Was the first time he actually felt some semblance of family outside of his mom and dad. The Mandalorians were right, in that regards. It doesn't matter what blood flows in your veins, all you need for family are the people you surround yourself with.

He had a little less than four weeks left of his stay with the Mandalorians. Less than twenty days. Soon everything he had done with Jintar, Dinua, and Tracyn would become just a memory. Would be just another story he'd tell Sannah and the younger Jedi on Yavin. And he'd go on, as Dinua said, zooming about the galaxy. Always wondering if Dinua and Jintar and the others he had met were still alive. Always wondering if there was something he could have done to make those friendships he had made something more than a memory.

For the first time ever, Doran realized that he didn't want to move on. Didn't want to go fluttering from one planet to the next in search of dusty holocrons and long-lost wisdom. Sure the Mando philosophy was giving his Force abilities a darker bent, but who cared? From Tracyn's happy-go-lucky attitude, to Jintar's wry sarcasm, and Dinua's biting wit, Doran suddenly wanted to stay right where he was. It was absurdly stupid, he knew that. At the same time, why shouldn't he stay with the first real friends he had ever had in his young life? Why did the galaxy, the war, the Force, have to move him along just when he found a place he belonged? It wasn't fair.

The next stone Doran threw was Force-assisted, and zipped far out of sight, a distant splash signifying its end-journey.

"Then what do I do?"

"Di'kut," Dinua said with a fond smile. "The same thing I tell you to do every time you start becoming a whiny Jedi. K'atini."

Doran couldn't help but laugh at that. "Is that how all you Mandos handle your emotional baggage?"

"That's how we handle our physical ones. If it's emotional, we find the cause and blast it," Dinua said dryly. "Works every time."

"At the moment, you, Jintar, and Tracyn are the cause of my emotional baggage. I thinking blasting the cause will only make me feel worse."

"The things threatening us are the cause," Dinua corrected. "Help us blast them while you're here. Then trust us to blast them while you're gone. Just like you promised me to survive out there when you leave, I swear to you to overcome any challenge that comes my way. If the galaxy then permits it, we'll see each other again in the future."

"Promise?" Doran whispered, unable to look away from her any further. He met her eyes, willing her to see his deepest fears and do something about them.

Dinua uncurled herself from the rock she had been on and made her way over to his seated figure. She wrapped her arms around his head and pulled him into her. "I promise, ori'vod."

FtF IV FtF

Using the Force to immediately get rid of his hangover, a shirtless Doran woke to find himself in a position many guys his age would have killed for. Curled up against one side of him was the short and cute Tracyn Gedyc. Using his other side as a pillow was the lithe beauty that was Dinua Jeban. The moment or two of panic as he tried to recall just how he had ended up in his current situation was enough to squelch any bodily reactions he had to having two shapely figures pressed against him. After all, both girls were Mandalorians who really knew how to use a vibroknife, and he really, really wanted to keep all his bits attached.

The slight throbbing in his head helped him recall the previous evening. After his heart-to-heart with Dinua, the two had rejoined the rest of the group to try and strategize. Their meeting was interrupted when Clan Rook's Nauur personally delivered a hearty meal of freshly hunted water fowl and fish, along with two kegs of tihaar. She 'couldn't have the clan leader go hungry' after all. To allay any suspicions, she and several members of Clan Rook even ate the food along with the group of teens.

The after-meal drink had been the kicker. Nauur and her companions were fully grown and knew how to handle their liquor. Willow and Dinua had next to no experience with the strong Mandalorian alcoholic beverage. Tracyn was also a lightweight. And though Jintar was no stranger to spirits thanks to his uncles, and Doran had likewise had a few drinks thanks to his travels, the group had finished off one entire keg and made it half-way through the second.

Willow was the first to nod off after only three cups, and Doran had carried her to the tent set up for the female members of the party. He returned to the campfire to discover that Dinua was an angry drunk and Tracyn a weepy one. Dinua was roundly cursing the Bane Consortium, Yuuzhan Vong, and whoever else she felt like cursing. Tracyn was crying silently, her gaze rooted to the dancing campfire. Jintar had been challenged to a drinking contest by one of the older Mandalorians and ended up passed out on the ground. With Doran staring bemusedly at everyone, Nauur and her contingent used that moment to excuse themselves back to the village.

Too buzzed to use the Force, Doran left Jintar where he was and moved to help a swaying Dinua back to the tent. It was at that moment Tracyn latched herself to Doran's side and burst into even more tears. She was repeatedly whispering 'I'm sorry' 'I'm sorry' over and over again, adding to Doran's headache. They trio ended up collapsing into the nearest tent, though Doran still couldn't recall how they had all ended up in their underclothes.

"My head," Tracyn groaned, stirring. She froze when she realized that she was pressed up against someone, and Doran was alarmed at the storm of emotions and thoughts that suddenly went through her. Most of them were very dark in nature. Before he could say anything, however, Tracyn seemed to recognize him. "Doran?"

"Yeah?"

At his response, some of the tension drained from her as she exhaled a long, slow breath. "We're sharing a bed, aren't we?"

"Yeah?" Doran wasn't sure if confirming the situation was good for his health.

"Did we…do anything?"

"No. If we did, then Dinua was a part of it too, and I'll probably die from not being able to remember a single moment of it." Doran immediately snapped his mouth shut. Fortunately for him, Tracyn seemed too out of it to register anything after his first few word.

"Jeban?" Tracyn weakly lifted her head and saw the slumbering dark-haired teen on Doran's other side. "Oh."

"We should probably go down to the Rook village to see if they have any news."

"How do you not feel like osik?" Tracyn said, disgruntled.

"The Force, purged the toxins from the alcohol. Mom taught me that trick."

Tracyn called him something not very nice in Mando'a, before pushing her head against his chest. "Do me too, then."

"He better not be doing you, Gedyc," Dinua muttered, having obviously just regained consciousness and was only half-awake. She seemed to accept her situation a lot better than Tracyn, simply snuggling closer to Doran and whimpering from her own headache.

"Dinua, we have to get ready," Doran said in amusement.

"Don't wanna."

"Clan Rook might have news for us."

"I'm Clan Leader," Dinua muttered grumpily. "They can wait."

Doran sighed and pressed his hand to Dinua's forehead and let the Force surround her. Despite him using the Force, he had a feeling she'd forgive him once he alleviated all the consequences a heavy night of drinking had left behind.

"That feels nice," Dinua sighed, her furrowed forehead unscrunching.

"Hey, how come you're doing her first?" Tracyn whined, before wincing at the sound of her own voice.

"Is he really doing both of them at the same time?" A shocked-sounding Willow's voice filtered through the tent flap.

"He is a Jedi. I thought the Force helped you guys with stamina and everything," Jintar answered back, a bit louder than was necessary.

Dinua blindly groped around at her side, found her pants, unholstered her plasma pistol, and fired randomly at the entrance of the tent. The shrieking of the plasma pistol and the accompanying terrified yelp caused Tracyn to whimper in distress.

"Doran," she groaned pitifully.

Doran reached out with his other hand and proceeded to detoxify the suffering teen. "Don't expect this every time."

"Remind me to keep a Jedi around when the Kyr'tsad go drinking," Tracyn smiled brightly, her eyes lighting up. She bent over, gave Doran a quick kiss on the cheek, before grabbing her gear and dressing.

With Dinua and Tracyn casually dressing as if it was no big deal that there was a boy in the tent, Doran studiously concentrating on pulling on his own clothes. He repeatedly reminded himself that he appreciated all parts of his body attached and in one piece and that it wasn't worth a peak or two. The reminders seemed to do the trick and he managed to full clothe himself without any difficulty.

"Think Clan Rook will try anything?" Doran asked, turning around.

"Balac maybe," Tracyn shrugged, attaching her gauntlets to her arm-guards. "He knows he's not Jeban's favorite and that if we support Nauur, he'll lose out big time."

"Not every clan is like a Kyr'tsad faction," Dinua disagreed.

The three emerged from the tent, and where the two females didn't care about the looks Willow and Jintar were giving them, Doran's face was bright red. "Hi."

Willow examined him with all the subtly of a Rancor. After a moment and a nod to herself, she smirked back at him. "Hi. Have a good night?"

"Slept like a baby."

"I knew you didn't do anything with them," Willow said triumphantly, spinning on Jintar with a growl. "You told me that he would have taken advantage of the situation, and I told you he wasn't like that."

"I said a few of my uncles would take advantage of that. That any hot-blooded guy wouldn't be able to resist two willing babes when they've practically thrown themselves at him for…" Jintar started defensively. But then, seemingly realizing what he was saying, gulped comically at the expressions on Tracyn and Dinua's faces.

"Skirata, I haven't sparred in a while," Tracyn said coolly. "Since Willow's obviously helped you get rid of your hangover. Let's see if you've improved any since Gargon. We'll fight until one of the other is unconscious."

"I don't really have a choice in this matter, do I?"

"Not unless you want to start singing a few octaves higher," Dinua answered. "Do your best. I'll be your opponent in the afternoon."

"Doran, a little help," Jintar said pleadingly.

Doran opened his mouth, then closed it at the arched eyebrows from Dinua and Tracyn. He rethought his next words and shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, Jintar. You're on your own."

"I thought you Jedi were supposed to be defenders of the downtrodden. I'm about to be as downtrodden as a person can get!"

"I don't see any Jedi here. Do you, Willow?"

"Nope."

"Come on," Tracyn grabbed one of Jintar's wrists and led him to the makeshift fighting ring that had been set up the previous afternoon. It was highly amusing to see Tracyn, who came up to Jintar's chest, barely, pull the much larger teen along.

"So, what are we doing today?" Willow asked Doran and Dinua.

"I want to learn more about the clan I'm supposed to be the leader of," Dinua said unexpectedly. "Doran and I will be visiting their village."

A briefly flicker of his eyes was all that was needed to betray the fact that this was the first time Doran was hearing of this. Willow blinked. "Can I come with you guys? I don't want to interrupt Tracyn and Jintar's…sparring."

A yelp in the background stemmed from Jintar getting his shin kicked by the boots of a pint-sized Mandalorian warrior.

"Why do you have that expression on your face?" Doran questioned in confusion.

"I heard that Mandalorian sparring was a replacement for foreplay," Willow said, blushing slightly.

Dinua involuntarily glanced back over to Tracyn and Jintar, a small frown appearing on her face. "That's just a stereotype. Besides, Gedyc isn't Skirata's type."

"He has a type?"

"Non-homicidal terrorists," Dinua answered, still watching the match. "You forget that despite Gedyc's appearance, she's a cold-blooded murderer at heart. There's no way Skirata will fall for someone like her."

"So…about me joining you guys to Rook's place?"

"Why not," Doran shrugged. "Dinua?"

"Fine," Dinua said curtly, looking away from Jintar and Tracyn. "Let's go."

The trail back to the farmstead was clearly demarcated and nothing unexpected occurred. The hike occurred in complete silence, with a very awkward Doran standing between Willow and Dinua like a DMZ. It was only after they reached the overlook peering down on Rook farmstead that Dinua said anything.

"No matter what happens, let me do the talking."

"Dinua?"

"When I spared them exile…" Dinua took a moment to breathe out slowly. "They're supposed to be our allies, right? But I can't help but feel they're just waiting for a chance to stab us in the back. I won't feel comfortable being clan leader until I can actually trust them. I spared them because of your Jedi philosophy, so let me handle it Mando'ade style."

"The show's all yours. Want me to look like your intimidating, dumb muscle?"

Dinua smirked. "That won't be hard for you, Di'kut."

"What about me?" Willow asked.

"You haven't passed your verd'goten so you're still a kid." Dinua said dismissively. "Follow Doran's example and be silent."

Dinua headed for the last few meters of trail and Willow stuck her tongue out at her. She then scowled at Doran. "How do you put up with her?"

"She…grows on you," Doran said with a faint smile and a wry shake of his head.

"Silent, dumb bodyguards," Dinua minded the two.

Doran chuckled and gestured with his head. "Come on. I really want to see what she has planned."

But of course, like all plans, their current one didn't even last the first few minutes in the village.

FtF V FtF

Most of the Mandalorians of Clan Rook were already awake by the time the trio passed through the wooden gate. Some were farming, some were sparring, but overall, nothing really stood out. Those who saw Dinua clasped a fist to their chest in greeting, but otherwise continued about their business. Everything looked about as normal as things could get.

Which is why, of course, both Willow and Doran suddenly felt a chill through the Force. Glancing around the area, neither could see anything out of place. Nonetheless, the Force was telling them that something was off.

"What is it?" Dinua muttered, seeing the frozen expressions of the two.

"Something's wrong," Doran said in a low voice.

Almost as if he had jinxed it, a cry of despair sounded from one of the larger mud-bricked buildings. Everyone's gaze was attracted by the cry. A blood-covered young teen came sprinting out of the building as if his backside was on fire.

"Someone's killed Balac!"

The following uproar was almost instantaneous as a crowd of Mandalorians, some in full armor, began to surge towards the building. Nauur Rook emerged from her own house along with a retinue of fully armored and armed bodyguards. She saw Dinua and the others.

"Come with me, Clan Leader."

Dinua nodded curtly, following Nauur without a word. They approached the quaking Rook teen and Nauur took charge.

"You said Balac is dead?"

"Y…yes," the teen swallowed. "He hadn't come out for the morning meal so I was bringing a tray of food. The lights were off in the room and when I stepped forward to place the tray down I tripped on his body."

"Take us to the room."

The teen nodded and led them back into the building, retracing a set of bloody footprints as he did. The smell of death lingered in the air.

"Why is there so much blood?" Willow whispered, looking nauseous.

"Good question," Nauur prompted the Mandalorian teen. "The blood?"

"I didn't see much, only a lot of blood," the teen said uselessly.

They reached Balac's room, the stench of blood became almost tangible. One of Nauur's bodyguards shined a light into the room, and they immediately saw Balac's body. Or what they presumed to be his body. Willow immediately turned away and puked up her breakfast. Dinua and Doran didn't look all that better.

"Flechette at close range," Nauur said impassively. "That explains the blood."

"He's been dead for a while," the bodyguard shining the light noted. "The blood's already thickened and the viscera has started to dry."

"Judging by the liver temperature, he's been dead at least since last evening's meal," another confirmed, withdrawing a device he had placed on Balac's body.

"Please stop talking," Willow wheezed, squeezing her eyes shut.

"That's impossible," the traumatized Mandalorian teen muttered. "I saw him just after midnight…he told me he was going to be sleeping in and to bring breakfast to him if he wasn't up yet."

"Maybe the med-scanner is faulty?" Nauur looked to the device's user.

Said user shook his head. "Calibrated it just the other day. It checked out. I don't know how this ad saw Balac, but the data doesn't lie."

"I'm not lying!" The blood-soaked teen objected.

"No one heard anything?" Dinua questioned.

Nauur shook her head, looking around the room. "Both my room and Balac's rooms also double as meeting rooms for our respective factions. They're soundproof and equipped with anti-surveillance tech. It's to prevent details from any meetings from leaking out."

"Then the killer has to be familiar to Clan Rook and Balac in particular."

"There are four bottles of beer here. The good stuff too," Nauur motioned to a low table by a leather couch. "Balac wouldn't have been drinking these by himself. Not unless he was really, really in a celebratory way."

"So he knew his killer. Chekar?" Dinua posited without emotion.

"He and Chekar are allied," Nauur shot the idea down immediately. "Likeminded bucketheads the both of them."

Before they could investigate further, an enraged voice sounded from the entrance of the building. "What do you mean stay back? This disintegrator says that you're the one that should stay back. Unless you stand aside now, the only thing that'll be left standing of your miserable corpse will be your boots."

"Balac's number two, Sytac Spar," Nauur said in a low voice. "Like Balac, all muscle and no brain. One heck of a soldier though.."

"Spar? Not Rook?"

"Clan Rook is made up of several smaller clans. It's a long story, I'll tell you about it later," Nauur said out of the side of her mouth.

An imposing red-skinned Zabrak, leading several other similarly-colored Zabraks pushed their way into the building only seconds later.

The Zabrak male's eyes narrowed at the sight of the Rook leader. "Nauur, it figures you'd be the first one at the scene of the crime."

"What are you implying?" Nauur asked icily.

"Just that the one time you convince Balac to send my group out on a mission, he ends up dead. That's what."

"Balac and I agreed that the Mandalorian Senate needed to know that…"

"Enough! You think you can get away with murder, don't you?"

"I was with our guests and the Clan Leader at the time this murder was taking place."

"Clan Leader?" The muscular Zabrak turned his gaze towards where Nauur was gesturing.

"Su'cuy, Sytac Spar," Dinua said coolly.

Sytac snorted and looked to Nauur again. "What joke is this? This little girl is the one that got Balac's brother all worked up?"

"I challenge you to a fight in the battle-circle," Dinua said without missing a beat.

Sytac blinked. "What?"

"You, against me? I'd break you with a single punch."

"You're not worthy enough to face me," Dinua said with a derisive scoff. She patted the still silent Doran on the shoulder. "My bodyguard here is enough to beat you in ten moves or less."

Doran's eyes widened and they darted to Dinua. She smiled at him that was half-amused, half-you-better-not-screw-this-up.

"Ten moves or less?" Sytac repeated.

"If he can't beat you in ten moves or less, you can be Clan Leader," Dinua said mildly. "If he can't beat you in five moves or less, you'll have the right to face me."

"Very well," Sytac said. "I have your word?"

"Unlike certain people, my word still means something," Dinua nodded.

"What are you doing?" Nauur asked in surprise.

"Don't worry, I have every confidence in my bodyguard," Dinua answered back smoothly. "Now, let's get this out of the way so we can come to the bottom of all this mess."

"My thoughts exactly," Sytac harrumphed.

Doran caught Dinua's eyes as everyone began to leave the building. What are you doing?

Dinua casually tapped her head.

Doran briefly reached out to read her surface thoughts. His jaw dropped at said thoughts. She didn't really care if he won or not. She never wanted the Clan Leader position anyway. In fact, she was all but telling him to throw the match.

Why?

Reading her thoughts again, Doran just shook his head and exhaled slowly. Her thoughts more or less were, It's good to know that a part of you is still the hopefully naïve Di'kut that got plopped on Gargon at the start of the year. Nauur's visiting of our camp last night was not a coincidence. She was using us as an alibi. Given what happened yesterday, she knew we wouldn't shed a tear for Balac's death and more than likely had one of her people assassinate him. Wouldn't it be ironic if Balac's faction still came out ahead after all that?

Dinua smirked at his expression and sympathetically patted his arm.

Isn't Balac's faction the more extreme version of Rook?

Worse comes to worse, I'll have Gedyc bombard this place from orbit. Dinua shrugged, seemingly without a care.

But before the group had even reached the battle-circle area of the farmstead, a flash of light followed by a thunderous sound pulsed through the air.

"Sniper!" One of Nauur's bodyguards yelled, immediately pulling the Rook heiress out of the street and behind a nearby storage shed. The others likewise scattered, save for a now headless Sytac.

The sniper rifle barked again, and mud-brick wall one of Sytac's people had been using as cover exploded, painting the road behind it a spray of red. Another crackle and this time the bodyguard who had pulled Nauur to safety essentially burst into pieces as the sniper round pierced right through the building like a lightsaber through a flimsiplast door. A moment of tense silence followed, everyone still remaining behind wherever they had dived to. And then the retort of a fourth round being released echoed, the gun releasing said round had changed. The round actually ricocheted off the ground and slammed into another of Sytac's people in an impressive trickshot.

Doran, who had flattened himself on the ground amid a field of chest-high grain, felt a warning echo through the Force. He swiftly rolled to the side as the next sniper round blew a small crater in the place he had just been in. And then he continued to roll every which way as round after round began to land around him. The sniper was just about to box him into a point of no-escape when a different roar sounded. The sniper fire stopped, but that was because whoever was firing was probably running for his or her life.

The reason was the barrage of mortar shells launched from Tracyn's AT-ST. Said walker was tromping through the jungle towards the source of the sniper fire, its laser cannons shrieking and leveling whole swaths of trees in a barrage that was probably just as terrifying as the sniper attack. The shells landed in ground-shaking fashion, a green, mushroom-like cloud with equally green lightning crackling within erupting. Absolute silence followed, the jungle fauna frightened into quiet.

The walker returned, and the hatch opened. Tracyn's head popped out and she glared down at Doran's prone position, arms folded in front of her. "I let you out of my sight for not even an hour and someone tries to kill you!"

Doran shrugged helplessly. "Thanks for saving my life again?"

A console inside the AT-ST beeped. Tracyn held up a finger. "One sec." She reached down and donned her helmet. "Yes. About time. Requesting orbital strike on the following coordinates. Tell the Protectors it's just a training run, hardening troops to orbital strikes and all that."

Everyone stared blankly at the pint-sized Mandalorian teen. A few seconds later, a thick yellow beam of plasma energy crackled through the atmosphere and plowed into the ground some distance away. Tracyn removed her helmet and shook her hair free. She then smiled perkily at Doran. "Let that be a lesson for any di'kutla hut'uun who dare scheme against our aliit."

Doran, Willow, and Dinua all couldn't help but turn in Nauur's direction. The Mandalorian was currently covered in the blood of her bodyguard, but strangely didn't seem affected at all.

"It's good you have such…well equipped…friends, Clan Leader," Nauur said, brushing off her clothing and standing.

"Did you really have to vaporize the sniper?" Dinua asked Tracyn. "We could have captured and interrogated them."

"If the sniper was stupid enough to stay when they saw my walker approach, they wouldn't have been that high up the chain of command. Besides, we already know the Bane Consortium is trying to kill the hairless baby Wookie."

"Someone killed Balac last night," Dinua explained. "The sniper targeted his people too."

"Well, it looks like you lucked out then, Nauur," Tracyn said casually, jetpacking down from the walker. "I'm going to guess that you can easily absorb the rest of his faction then."

"With Sytac dead…yes, I suppose it would be possible." Nauur said emotionlessly. "With Sytac dead, his faction doesn't have any other charismatic leader. For the betterment of Clan Rook, they should agree that a united clan is better than a divided one. Of course it would help greatly if the Clan Leader makes some words to that regard as well.

"Of course," Dinua said with matching monotone.

"I merely mean to say that it'll be easier to utilize the resources at Clan Rook's disposal if we are not divided. The sooner that happens, the faster we can stop those assassins before they get lucky."

"I understood perfectly."

As this was going on, Willow edged over to Doran. "Is this how your adventures here normally feel?"

"This is the first time someone actually wants to kill me, so it feels a little different."

"Oh…good…I guess?"

"Look on the bright side. After this, the rest of your time with the Mandalorians should be relatively boring."

Willow nudged him with an elbow. "Are you trying to jinx it?"

FtF VI FtF

The longhouse was Clan Rook's official gathering spot. Currently the mood was tense. Despite Nauur's confidence in suppressing the rest of Balac's faction, the Mandalorians of Clan Rook were, well, Mandalorians. No one was allowed to suppress them without their say so. And currently, almost half the clan wasn't saying 'so'. Nauur wanted the divided clan united. The divided side had other ideas. Right now no one knew what to expect from the meeting. After all, it hadn't been Nauur who called it, but their 'Clan Leader' who had 'won' the clan a nearly a year earlier but had yet to actually lead the clan.

Dinua had big shoes to fill, literally and figuratively. Beroya Rook, for all his faults, had been acknowledged as the clan's true leader by all. He had even had three wives and a half-dozen children. With Balac and Overd dead, Chekar exiled, and the two others killed when Tracyn's forces raided the farmstead, Nauur was the only one left. To make matters more complicated, said wives had been from three of the smaller clans that made up Clan Rook—Clans Rook, Sharratt, and Varad—with the marriages more or less political than emotional. With the heirs mostly all dead, these smaller clans had likewise divided their loyalties. Suffice to say, Clan Rook was about as unstable as it possibly could be and it fate rested on the words of a fifteen-year old Mandalorian.

Dinua, in full Mandalorian armor, calmly stepped up onto the stage. She stood out in the darkened room by virtue of the fact that her armor had been repainted a gleaming white. She placed the helmet on a podium and fearlessly gazed out at the ranks of stoic faces.

"I am Dinua Jeban. I personally have no fond feelings for this clan. But as your clan leader, it will reflect poorly on myself if this clan ends up as the garbage dump of Manda'yaim. So I am going to make this very simple. If you don't want to work with myself and Nauur Rook to make Clan Rook something you can be proud of, leave."

Silence followed, but no one moved.

"Then I will assume that all of you are proud to be a member of this clan and will do whatever you can to make it better. Balac and those who think like him saw this clan as stagnating, being trampled upon by the more prestigious clans. Nauur preaches tradition, adherence to the old custom and the way things are," Dinua paused again, her eyes darting over to where Doran and Willow were standing against the back wall of the room. "But, as in all things, balance is needed. This clan is divided, and in its division, everyone is being brought down. I don't care if you follow Nauur or followed Balac. All of you are members of Clan Rook. Without you, all of you, there is no Clan Rook. We will adhere to the traditions of Manda'yaim, follow Manda'lor and the Resol'nare. At the same time, we will also show the other clans that Clan Rook is made up of honorable Mandalorians who carry justice in their hearts and eliminate all who don't. My aliit and I are currently at war with forces that seek to bring down the leadership of this world. These forces are possibly allied to the Vongese and act to make our people weak. It will only be as a united clan, as a united people, that we can fight and win. I am willing to fight for this world, and if this clan proves worthy of it, for all of you as well. Will you stand with me?"

Absolute silence followed.

And then a small group stood, with fists clasped over their chests. "We fight with you, Clan Leader."

Eyes darted to the group, and after another second, a few more people stood. "We will work with you to make Clan Rook greater than before."

"We as well," a mixed-group of Zabrak and humans stood as one. "So long as you have Clan Rook's best interests at heart."

"We are proud Mandalorians. Do not stray from the Way, and you have our support," a different group stood.

By then, most of the room was standing.

"Isn't peer pressure grand," Willow muttered to Doran as the few who were seated were looking left and right at the rest of the group. One by one, they began to stand as well. Though they were obviously on the fence about the whole thing, they were loathed to stand out even more. Especially since Dinua had already given them the opportunity to walk away.

Dinua kept her face impassive as the whole clan now stood before her. Despite that, her eyes flicked over to Doran again, betraying the panic she was feeling. Doran gave her a small supportive smile and shrug in response. He was the last person to give advice in how to run a Mandalorian clan.

"Very well," Dinua recovered. "Our first order of business is to have an official delegation recognized by the Mandalorian Senate at Sundari, as well as a representative of our clan among the Protectorate at Keldabe. For those interested, see Nauur and I will take her advice into mind when going over the candidates. I also want a full accounting of all the activities this clan is involved in by tomorrow morning. As for the threat to this world and to Manda'lor, I want this clan on full war-footing. Our enemies are innumerable and threaten this whole galaxy. We will prove ourselves in the field of battle and show this planet that Clan Rook is truly a force to be reckoned with and those in it worthy of calling themselves Mandalorian. That is all."

The room cleared out with everyone murmuring amongst themselves. Even Nauur studied Dinua for several long seconds, before politely inclining her head and leaving. It was only when everyone was gone that Dinua hopped off the stage and made a beeline for Doran.

"Di'kut. Front and center."

"I didn't do anything!"

"I, Dinua Jeban, do not give motivational speeches!" Dinua slugged him in the arm. "Jedi give speeches. Not Mandalorians! It's your fault I'm in charge of this clan in the first place!"

"Ow, ow, ow! Why does that mean you get to hit me then!"

"It's good you're going to be leaving this world," Dinua continued to punch the muscles on his arm, very obviously no longer achieving the same sort of results she had at the start of the year. "If any more of your Jedi-ness rubs off on me, I'm going to have to hang up my armor and change it for your Jedi bathrobes!"

"Okay, okay! I'll stop rubbing off on you! Ow! What was that for?"

"Did I tell you to stop rubbing off on me? I'm a soldier, not a leader! I can't lead this clan. I don't even have a clan because my mom's was wiped out and I have no idea who my blood-father is. Your Jedi-ness rubbing off on me is the only thing I can count on right now!"

"Errrr…what are they talking about now? And why does it sound so dirty?" Willow whispered to Jintar and Tracyn.

"Heck if I know," Jintar muttered back. "They've spent the entire year dancing around each other. If Doran was a real Mandalorian they'd probably already slept with each other and become engaged. But he's not, so I have no idea."

"They're more than best friends but not quite boyfriend-girlfriend," Tracyn elaborated. "At least, as far as I know."

"I heard that Dinua's father threatened Doran with a scattergun if Doran tried anything with her," Jintar added. "Even if he does grow a pair and act on those feelings, he won't have that pair for too long after."

In the meantime, Dinua had finished venting and grimaced as she shook out her hands. "What do you have for muscles, beskar ore?"

"Feel better?" Doran asked in bemusement.

"Gedyc," Dinua exhaled slowly.

"Yeah?"

"You know how to lead a clan and all that, right?"

"More or less."

"I'm going to need your help."

"Huh?"

"You heard me," Dinua said through gritted teeth. "If I use only the stuff the Di'kut taught me, the clan will revolt before tomorrow is over."

"I'll help, but you do know the type of people I lead, right," Tracyn said carefully. "You want me to treat Rook the same way?"

"I'll give you the troublemakers. Jintar, can you contact your clan and have them send someone down to help as well?" Dinua asked, turning to the other older teen.

"Sure, Clan Skirata more or less started out like the Rooks are now anyway. It'll be like a distant family reunion."

"They have to do things legally," Dinua said dryly.

"Oh…in that case, I'll have my dad send someone more responsible to help. Maybe Auntie Scout can join up. It's been a while since she's left the Kyrimorut."

"What about Ghes and Ram?" Doran asked, mentioning the two Mandalorians who had helped them out in adventures past.

"I don't want to drag them into something this messy."

"I'll let them know that this is entirely voluntary," Doran said in turn. "Do we look like we're in any position to turn away help?"

Dinua worried her lower lip for a moment, then nodded. "Okay. But make sure Zerimar and Orade know that we're tangling with the Bane Consortium. Unlike us, they still have families that might be targeted in retribution."

"Got it."

"Dar'ma…Willow."

The youngest of the group blinked in surprise. "Yes?"

"I know your family's currently fighting off the Vongese over Lothal. But I also know they have their hands in several underworld markets. Do they have any contacts or people they might be able to recommend? Clan Rook isn't swimming in supplies and we're going to need all the weapons and armor we can get."

"I'll ask," Willow said resolutely. "I'm sure they can do something to help out."

"Thank you."

Willow was taken aback by the genuine gratefulness. "Not a problem. An aliit is just like a family after all right? We all help each other out when we can and watch each other's backs."

Dinua chuckled softly and looked to Doran slyly. "She's only been here for a month and she already gets us better than you did in that amount of time."

"Told you I liked her from the start," Tracyn grinned.

Doran responded by mussing Willow's hair. "Stop showing me up. They might replace me before I'm even off this planet."

Willow grinned at Doran and everyone laughed in turn. Despite the monumental task before them, at the moment, they showed no hesitation or fear. After all, it was as Willow said. They were family.

FtF VII FtF

It had been almost two weeks since they had arrived at the Rook farmstead, and the weeks had passed by insanely fast. There had been loads to do, loads more still left to do, and the group of teens were exhausted mentally and physically. The whole mental part came from dealing with the logistics of a good-sized clan, as well as all the inter-clan politics that had come with it. The physical aspect came from the fact that the Rook farmstead now resembled a military base, complete with durasteel walls and defensive turrets.

Willow's family had relayed several underworld contacts who had come through in a big way. They had not only sent over the materials necessary to transform the agrarian farmstead into a fort, but had done so at a reasonable price and even provided employment for a great many of the clan. After all, what company wouldn't turn down a chance to have genuine Mandalorian mercenaries in their employ?

Not to be outdone by a Force-user, Tracyn stepped up on her end and bewildered her friends by having a Kyr'tsad heavy-transport land in the clearing that had been made by her walker and unload several metric tons of supplies. Much to Dinua's annoyance, when the expected troublemakers did pop up, rather than punish them or make an example of them, Tracyn actually recruited them into Death Watch, and they had all left on said heavy-transport.

The Skiratas came through in a way that had Jintar hang his head in embarrassment and profess that had he no relations to the people who had arrived. Evidently there had been a dearth of things to do at the Kyrimorut and a majority of his uncles had been bored stiff. All the surviving ARCs and Nulls, as well as some of the wives, had descended on the village and started whipping the rabble that were the Rook warriors into military shape. The Skirata's became temporarily blind, deaf, and mute whenever they saw Tracyn and her people. In Mereel's case, that was actually a good thing after he tried to woo her with his charms and had a different set of charms nearly removed via impromptu vibroblade surgery. When Jintar asked his grandfather, the venerable Kal Skirata, who was holding down the Kyrimorut, he had been told that Venku had returned from Sundari on a rare break and that 'Kad needed a reminder of where his home actually was'.

Ghes Orade had apologetically refused to support them as his clan was actually fairly large and presented way too fat a target for an organization that specialized in assassinations. Though he and the group of teens were somewhat on friendly terms, given the strength of the enemy this time, he just couldn't put his adoptive family in danger. Ram Zerimar, on the other hand, arrived in the middle of the first week with several of his own clan-members in tow. All of them were sharpshooters of ridiculous skill, making the group of teens glad that it hadn't been one of them that had tried to assassinate them. If it had, they wouldn't have stood a chance.

Dinua, for her part, took to the challenge just like she had all the other challenges that had been placed before her. It had been a very taxing trial by fire for her, and she often stayed up late far into the night. Though she had gained the acceptance of the clan, gaining their respect was something different entirely. There had been all manner of problems that had popped up, and initially she had tried to deal with everything all on her own. Tracyn, upon learning this, chided the younger teen and taught her how to delegate responsibility. By the end of the second week, Dinua was gradually adapting to her role, albeit very reluctantly.

All in all, Clan Rook was ready for war. All they had to do was find out where the enemy was.

It was on the last day of the second week that Nauur called the group of teens to inform them she had finally received word from her contacts about the Bane Consortium. Awaiting Nauur in the meeting room where they had first met her, the group of teens didn't quite know what to expect. After all, the Bane Consortium was an enigmatic organization with a frighteningly high success rate.

After the short wait in the central meeting chamber, Nauur Rook entered with two others in tow. All three were fully armored, with blasters in their holsters on either hip. Doran immediately recognized one of them due to the armor he was wearing and just barely managed to hold his tongue. The man's presence brought up all sorts of questions. None of the trio bothered to take a seat as the clan leader got straight to the point.

"I put some feelers out and got a bite. If you want in to the Bane Consortium, however, you're going to have to trust me."

"Oh?" Dinua said coolly, her gaze on the same Mandalorian Doran had recognized.

Nauur gestured to the Mandalorian on her left. "Chekar here has renounced this clan, but has agreed to help us provided we help him."

Dinua spoke again, her voice glacial. "And why should we trust him?"

"You're trusting me, not him," Nauur held out her hands in a placating manner. "And he and Hiduka are our only trustworthy links to the Bane Consortium. They work for them as their triggermen."

Dinua pressed on. "And just what would our entrusting you entail?"

"Chekar here, and Hiduka Spar," Nauur gestured to the helmeted female with a Golan Arms fletchette-launcher slung over her shoulders. "Are going to take your Jedi friend prisoner. The Vongese have offered a substantial reward for living Jedi so it is worth more for Chekar to bring him in alive. He will take the Jedi to the Consortium base, where he is to meet the Vongese contact and receive his reward. The rest of you will be smuggled in a manner than masks your bio-signs to avoid detection."

"Sorry, real quick question," Doran interrupted holding up a hand. "I thought that renouncing your own clan meant that you severed all times and were essentially dead to that clan. How were you able to contact him and convince him to come back to the clan?"

Nauur's expression was blank, her eyes dismissively flickering over to Doran. "You of all people should know that family can be complicated at times. Certain elements of Clan Rook have always been involved in the underworld. Balac may have been quick to throw away those who are no longer useful to him, but I am not like him. In any case, this plan must be carried out with extreme haste. The longer we delay, the greater the chance that the Bane Consortium will see through the ruse. Are you in or not?"

Before the words 'I have a bad feeling about this' could leave Doran's mouth, Dinua spoke for the group. "We're in."

Doran whirled around to his friend. "You do know that Mandos don't have to accept every challenge thrown in their direction! Especially the ones that seem suicidal."

"This is the quickest way to get answers. And while I don't trust Chekar, Nauur has put her honor at stake by vouching for him."

"Okay, but if we die, it's your fault," Doran grumbled.

"What?! You're giving in, just like that?" Willow squeaked. "I don't need to be a Mando or a Jedi to know that this plan is really horrible."

"Do you have an alternative idea for infiltrating a group of ultra-secret assassins before they get lucky and kill us all?" Dinua raised an eyebrow.

"Well…no…" Willow pouted. "But I'm with Doran. If we die, I'll blame you."

"Are you done?" Chekar grumbled.

"Yes."

"Good, we need to get to the carbonite storage facility."

"Where?" Doran was taken aback.

Chekar made an impatient sound. "Think, Jedi. Do you really think the Bane Consortium will believe I captured you and was able to keep you restrained if you aren't a chunk of carbonite?"

"Oookay. Just me?"

"No, your aliit," Chekar said the word as if it were a curse. "Gets frozen too. Otherwise their lifesigns would pop up on any scans."

"I take it back, the plan went from horrible to the worst idea ever," Willow sighed. "But of course we're still going to do it."

"You'll go far, ad," Jintar chuckled.

"If I live," Willow retorted.

"Do not worry," the until-then-silent Hiduka Spar interrupted. "The carbonite controls will be entirely under my control. Even if Chekar wishes to betray you by leaving you encased in carbonite, he will not have the opportunity to do so."

"And what's to stop him from just blasting you and taking the controls?" Tracyn asked.

"When he joined the Bane Consortium he had to consent to having a micro-explosive implanted at the base of his skull," Hiduka said without emotion. "My death will cause the explosive to detonate. If he tampers with the carbonite process, I will cause the explosive to detonate. If he makes any move to betray the mission…."

"We got the idea," Doran said, holding up a hand to stop her. "Why are you willing to help us? You don't even know us."

"My reasons are my own."

"Look, are we doing this or not?" Chekar said impatiently. "I don't have all day."

"Okay, we'll go," Doran exhaled slowly. "Don't make us regret it."

Despite him wearing a helmet, Chekar's sneer was audible. "You wouldn't be able to do anything if I did."

"Just keep thinking that," Jintar retorted.

"We will take the shuttle to Keldabe. The carbonite facility is there," Hiduka said matter-of-factly. "From there you will be loaded onto our ship and taken to the Bane Consortium's headquarters. The Jedi male will be unfrozen when Chekar presents him to our Yuuzhan Vong contact. The other carbonite frames will be on a time-delay and will release you around the same time. If all goes according to plan, you'll be able to kill the Yuuzhan Vong contact and whoever is with them, and then make your way through the base."

"Why did you have to add the last part?" Doran said mournfully. "Now nothing is going to go as planned."

Hiduka ignored Doran's complaint and led the way out of the building. Chekar clicked his tongue in disdain and followed. The others reluctantly followed, the Mandalorian youths showing none of the nerves they were feeling. The Jedi youths showing all those nerves and more.

"First time being frozen in a block of carbonite?" Willow whispered to Doran, staying at his side.

"Yeah, you?"

"Same."

"To be fair, I don't think very many people get frozen in carbonite."

"I heard it from Little Z that there's this planet that uses carbonite as a spa treatment."

"Great," Doran snorted. "I'll just think of this as a trip to the spa."

"Only, instead of waking up to a nearly naked masseuse wanting to do naughty things with you, you'll be waking up to a scarred up Vong wanting to disect you," Willow said wryly.

"You really suck at the whole reassuring thing."

"You're the one who agreed to do this thing."

"Are you trying to tell me I made a bad choice?"

"What part of this whole plan made it sound like a good choice?"

"I'll be okay," Doran said, sensing her fear. "I mean, you guys will be swooping in for the rescue so I have nothing to worry about."

"Try to stay alive until we're able to do the whole swooping thing then."

"That's not really up to me. I'll be a Jedi-popsicle until Chekar decides otherwise."

Willow made a face "You really suck at the whole reassuring thing."

"In the words of someone a lot wiser than me, K'atini. Ow! What was that for, Dinua?"

"You stole my line." Dinua had fallen back to wear the two Jedi wore and not-so-gently elbowed Doran.

"I'm going to be okay," Doran repeated himself. "Why do the both of you think I'm going to end up in a bacta tank after all this? Don't you have any faith in me?"

"Nate's giving us ten-to-one odds that you don't end up in bacta," Tracyn chimed in with a laugh. "Word got out to the Skiratas and nearly all of them are in on it. I have a thousand credits riding on the matter."

Doran pouted. "Who needs psychopathic assassins and aliens from another galaxy trying to kill them when I have friends like you guys?"

The trip to the carbonite storage facility lasted all of an hour. Most of it spent in complete silence as the teens tried to process the craziness they had signed up for. Willow, Dinua, Jintar, and Tracyn all continued to look at Doran as if he were condemned. Doran did his part to ignore their looks and made a mental note to rub his survival-sans-bacta in their faces once it was all over. Of course that didn't stop him from secretly leaving a bet with Nate before stepping on Chekar's shuttle.

The plan was put into action, Clan Rook would be supervised by Kal Skirata and the rest, with Nauur being relegated to 'vice-commander'. In the two weeks, though she hadn't exactly been hostile, she hadn't been completely supportive either. According to Tracyn, Nauur was more than likely sulking over the fact that her plot to gain control of the clan had utterly backfired on her. Even with Dinua leaving, so long as the Skiratas remained, and Ram Zerimar's buddies kept their sniper rifles aimed, Nauur wouldn't be able to do anything even if she wanted to.

The shuttle briskly raced through the skies of Mandalore. All too soon they had arrived at their destination, the teens warily looking at the carbonite freezing mechanisms.

"Okay, who's first?" Chekar drawled, his helmet held under one arm.

"I'll go," Tracyn stepped up.

Chekar gave her a once over. "Lose the armor, small-clothes only. That goes the same for the rest of you. The Consortium will never believe it if you're frozen in full gear."

"We'll leave your gear in a supply crate next to you," Hiduka added.

"This plan is getting worse all the time," Willow muttered through clenched teeth, glaring daggers at Doran.

Tracyn, now barefoot and clad only in her underclothes, stepped up into the carbonite apparatus. Her organic and cybernetic eyes sought out Doran, her heart pounding despite the brave front she was showing. Doran held her gaze and tried to will some of his strength to her. As if sensing his intentions, she smiled softly at him. The carbonite machine whirled to life and a jet of steam obscured the petite blonde from view. When the cloud cleared, Tracyn was frozen in perfect cryo-hibernation, a determined look locked on her face.

Chekar walked up to the frozen Mandalorian and activated the frame's repulsors to float her out of the way. He gazed at the rest of the teens, having never lost his smirking countenance. "Okay. Who's next?"

"Me," Jintar stepped up.

As he did, Dinua shifted so that she was next to Doran. She then slid one of her hands into one of his. "Doran."

"Yeah?"

"In case something goes wrong…"

"Nothing's going to go wrong."

"Shut up, Di'kut."

"Okay."

"If something goes wrong…thank you for being my friend. For everything. I'm glad to know that if I'm going to die, it'll be with the people that matter most to me."

"We're not going to die," Doran muttered, staring as the carbonite streams washed over Jintar. "There's no way the Force is going to have us going out as popsicles."

"Then I'll trust you on that then."

"What? You trusting in the Force?" Doran tore his gaze away to look at Dinua in surprise.

She stood on the tips of her toes and gave him a gentle kiss on the lips. As they parted, in the background, Chekar asked for the next volunteer. Dinua took a step forward, but looked over her shoulder and gave Doran a smile that she'd only give him. "Some of your Jedi-ness has definitely rubbed off on me."

Dinua then strode to the carbonite chamber without hesitation or fear, ignoring Chekar's lecherous gaze. She gestured to the controls. "Come on, I don't have all day."

Chekar's expression darkened, but he flipped the lever, preserving Dinua's defiant expression much to his chagrin.

Doran released a breath and offered Willow a reassuring smile. "Well, here's something to write home about."

"Provided we survive."

Her pessimism had Doran chuckle. "I think I know why Dinua and Jintar were so annoyed with me at the start of the year now."

"Huh?"

"Where I saw instant-death, they saw a challenge that they could prove themselves with. Give it time," Doran patted her arm and headed for the carbonite chamber.

Behind him, Willow shook her head helplessly. "You've definitely been with the Mandos too long."

FtF Chapter End FtF

A\N: No idea when the next chapter will be out….three chapters left in this story…. Originally I was going to go more in-depth with Clan Rook and make this a seven-ten chapter arc, but I decided to just follow the main storyline for the sake of finishing this story. Thanks for reading!