Gotalad Vencuyot

FtF I FtF

Doran stared up at the sky, his tired mind being forced into overdrive as he tried to process what Nauur's challenge meant. For Doran, the whole situation didn't make sense at all. Running a hand through his hair, Doran tried to take a calming breath, before turning to look at Jintar. "Any reason why Nauur would do this? We got Boba Fett to acknowledge Clan Rook."

"That might be the problem," Jintar replied slowly, thinking about the situation. "We did it. Not her. Mandalorians are deathly allergic to acts of pity."

"Oh for Force's sake! Dinua and I didn't do it because we pitied them!"

"Try to look at it from if you were in her boots," Jintar rubbed at his face as if pained by his own people's actions. "Under her father, Clan Rook was an obscure, outcast clan with a bad rep. Then her brother gets killed by you, erased from the clan's records, and the entire clan is put under the command of a fifteen year old girl from a clan with even less power than Rook. She leaves the clan alone for the year and things more or less carry on like normal until Beroya is assassinated. Then she and her brother take over with different delusions of grandeur. But because the clan is divided between them, they're even worse off. She probably had her brother killed to consolidate the clan under her."

"That is…messed up," Doran said blankly. "I thought you Mandos valued family."

"Clan Rook is only borderline Mando in thought," Jintar shrugged. "Because Jeban assumed control of the clan and even made improvements to the clan by bringing my family in, the clan's loyalty shifted to Jeban instead of Nauur. To show that she has more mandokar and would be a better leader, Nauur has to best Jeban and her aliit once and for all."

"Why can't I ever meet a regular Mandalorian clan," Doran complained. "A full year with you people and I meet the extremes and the crazies."

"Hey, Clan Skirata is normal," Jintar protested.

Doran arched an eyebrow at Jintar. "Because a clan made of gangster Boba Fetts is normal."

"Point taken," Jintar conceded sheepishly.

Doran looked back in the direction of the farmstead. Despite the freighter's departure, the party was going full-swing. It didn't seem that all of Clan Rook had been in on the plot. Either that or the clan was made up of really good actors.

"What do we do about the rest of them?" Doran muttered to Jintar.

"Do you want the Jedi answer or the Mandalorian answer?"

"I'm almost afraid to say."

"If we take your Jedi route, they're innocent unless they do something stupid. If we take the Mandalorian route, the entire clan is guilty of the crime of their chosen leader and we can call in an orbital strike."

"Can we do something in-between?" Doran said faintly. "Besides, the clan leader's Dinua, isn't it? We can have the rest of the clan help to save her from the rogue elements."

"You really want the clan to choose between Mandalorian honor and family?"

"That…" Doran let out a sound of frustration. "Nauur might be family, but her actions are going to hurt Clan Rook in the long-term."

"I could argue that her actions are strengthening it."

"What? How?"

"She wins, she proves that she was stronger than us, and the stronger leader goes on to lead Rook on the path she wants. She loses; she and those who followed her are dead. She rids Clan Rook of the subversive element and the clan becomes united under Jeban's command."

"I thought you Mandalorians liked being simple people," Doran protested with a groan.

"That is simple. There's nothing hidden. No backroom deals. No shady political ploys. Just you, her, a blaster or two, and the fate of Clan Rook riding on who lives and who dies."

"So you don't think I should rely on the rest of the clan for help?"

"Probably not. If there's anything worse than a scared Mandalorian, it's a confused one. Confused Mandalorians tend to just shoot the source of their confusion. In this case, that'd be you. They'd be the last people you should team up with."

Doran's headache increased. He was already exhausted from the last couple of days and wanted nothing more than to curl up in a bed and sleep. Having his friends once again kidnapped, right when he wanted to sleep, only made him crankier than usual. "So if you were in my shoes. What would be your next move?"

"Well, we'd have to go to Gargon for one. Probably get in touch with Dinua's fathers so he can run interference with the new Vongese in charge of the garrison. Other than that, maybe we can take Orade and Zerimar with us and save the others."

Doran listened to the advice, but at the same time dismissed it. Something in the Force was telling him that this whole thing wasn't as simple as it appeared. Nauur had to have known that with the mission over, Dinua and the others would leave and she'd once again have the power over the clan.

"Tracyn left her armor on the ship, right?" Doran asked Jintar, pointing to the shuttle they had arrived on.

"Yeah. We all left our weapons and gear on it. Why?"

Doran glared at the reveling Mandalorians in the distance. "I have an idea"

A little bit later, while both were on the shuttle, Jintar was incredulous. Doran hadn't exactly explained his idea, but Jintar had quickly understood the gist of it and shared his thoughts. It didn't go over so well with the Toydarian who had haplessly been dragged into the issue.

"This is a bad idea!" Quito whined. "A very bad idea!"

"I can't believe I'm saying this, but I agree with him," Jintar jerked his thumb over at the Toydarian.

"Why?"

"Do I even need to say it out loud? You know the type of people that support her. Some might even try to take advantage of the situation and stab her in the back. Forget Clan Rook, the last people you want to team up with would be Kyr'tsad."

"What if I said that I wanted to team up with the Yuuzhan Vong?" Doran said sarcastically.

Jintar just glared at the younger teen. "I'm serious, Doran! There's a reason why Kyr'tsad hasn't been able to gain any ground on Mandalore. Why they were so easy to divide up and hunt down several months ago. If any one of Tracyn's lieutenants has aspirations of greatness, they'll use this time to seize control of her faction."

"Wouldn't that be better for both Tracyn and Mandalore then? Tracyn's group is one of the last two factions in existence. If they splinter, they'll be easier prey for the Protectorate. I'm sure her people know that too."

"Yeah, well, no sane Mandalorian would bet on Death Watch doing the logical thing."

"Good thing I'm not a Mandalorian then," Doran remarked, activating the holo-transceiver and inputting the frequency from Tracyn's helmet-comm. "This is Doran Sarkin-Tainer to the Gedyc Kyr'tsad faction, come in."

The image of a helmeted Mandalorian flickered into view. "We are aware of the situation. We are under orders not to take any action."

"Orders? Isn't Tracyn your leader?" Doran was taken aback. His feeling that things were more complicated than they seemed increasing.

"That is all we are permitted to say. You will end this call and lose this frequency. We have no interest in working with Jedi."

And the holo-image abruptly disappeared.

"Hate to say it," Jintar released the breath he had been holding. "But I told you so. We need to stop wasting time and head to Gargon now."

"You two can go, I don't want any part in this," Quito said, starting for the shuttle's exit.

Jintar casually reached out and grabbed the back of the Toydarian's vest, holding him in place regardless of how hard he flapped his wings. "We're going to need your help. Remember what you told us Jeban's fathers would do to you?"

Quito wilted in defeat. "This is crazy. This is suicide."

Doran held up a finger to indicate that the two of them should quiet down. He then used another frequency stored in the comlink and the holo-table lit up again.

"This is Doran Sarkin-Tainer contacting the Vizsla Kyr'tsad faction, come in."

"You're mad," Jintar mouthed, shaking his head in disbelief.

The slender figure of Verde Vizsla shimmered into view. "You…I don't know whether you're brave or stupid."

"And should I be surprised that Kyr'tsad is closer to one united faction than two larger ones?" Doran countered. "I doubt Tracyn has your personal comm-frequency so you can chat about boys and makeup."

"What do you want?"

"You're not wondering how I know this frequency?"

"Rook's Clan Head decided to kidnap her and two of your friends," Verde said dismissively. "Now what do you want?"

Doran's eyes narrowed to the point where he was almost squinting. The events had just unfolded, yet both Tracyn and Verde's people already seemed to know all about it. "If you help me get her back, she'll owe you."

Verde responded with a string of Mando'a that Doran' didn't quite get. Before he could ask, the faction-leader just smirked and added in Basic. "You're in over your head, Jedi. The galaxy is so much larger than Mandalorian space, you know that. Yet you seem to have forgotten that."

"If you know the Yuuzhan Vong threaten an entire galaxy, just why the heck are you and Tracyn opposing Boba Fett and the Protectorate at a time when all Mandalorians need to be united?" Doran said, feeling more than a little frustrated now.

"Clan Vizsla is staying neutral in the matter between you and Rook's Clan Head. Enjoy the hunt, Jedi."

Doran glared at the darkened holo-table and slammed his fist on it. "All you kriffin' Mandalorians can go eat a blasterbolt! Clan? Family? Blood? You Mandos only use those words if it's convenient and make up excuses when it isn't."

"Like you said earlier. You've only met the extremes of Mando culture," Jintar said patiently.

Doran took in several calming breaths, though his eyes shone with emotion. After a few moments, he unclenched his fist and tried to organize his thoughts. "Jintar. I'm going to need to ask a favor of you."

"Name it."

"I'm going to go to Gargon by myself," Doran held up a hand to stop Jintar's protest. "I'm going to need you to do something for me."

"What do you mean?"

"Nauur and whoever else is involved in this mess will be watching me."

"Okay, but what do you want me to do?"

"You know how you and Dinua keep saying that a 'Jedi' will do one thing and a 'Mando' will do another?"

"Yeah?"

"You have two Jedi at home, right? But they've been Mando-ize?"

"I wouldn't exactly say it that way…but yeah."

"I need you to go to them and ask what a Mando-Jedi would do in this situation. I'm going to go to Gargon,, to heck with any plans. You're going to somehow make sure that myself, Dinua, Tracyn, and Willow all make it out of there alive. Oh, and take Quito with you."

"Doran, Nauur will probably blast you the second you show up."

"If she wanted to do that, she could have hit us when she was in her ship," Doran headed for the cockpit. "We'd have stood no chance against that freighter's laser cannons."

Jintar opened his mouth to protest, but then closed it as he realized that that was true. "Okay."

"Jintar, one last thing," Doran said. "Whatever you come up with, don't kill Nauur."

"Okay?" Jintar repeated, but sounded a little confused.

"She's Dinua's."

"Okay," Jintar said with a third time, eyes lighting up in comprehension. "I'll be going then. Good luck."

"Thanks."

Jintar paused at the cockpit doorway. "And…may the Force be with you."

Doran smiled faintly. "You too."

Doran started up the shuttle's engines and watched through the viewport as Jintar and Quito took off into the forest on a speederbike. A signal on one of the sensor readouts began blinking. Checking it, Doran saw that it was picking up a large cruiser descending from high orbit. He punched up the details and then paled considerably as his heart thudded loudly. Putting all power to the engines, Doran maneuvered the shuttle as far away from the Rook farmstead as he could. He had only just reached the minimum safe distance when the Gedyc Kyr'tsad-faction's pride and joy unleashed a base-delta-zero on the area of Rook's farmstead. The very drunk, partying Mandalorians Nauur had left behind hadn't stood a chance.

Doran pounded the steering column once more. "Kriffing Mandalorians!"

FtF II FtF

Doran landed the shuttle on Gargon in the same location his mom had landed in nearly a year earlier to the day. That fact was not lost on him as he powered the ship off and made his way through the small vessel. There was one main difference, however. The Yuuzhan Vong garrison on Gargon hadn't gone away with Gorak Lah's failure. There was still a garrison present, albeit a much smaller garrison that seemed to serve more as an observer role than an occupational force. The garrison didn't even challenge his arrival.

The shuttle door opened and Doran was greeted by Goran Beviin's helmeted figure. "Commander."

"The Skiratas have filled me in about the situation," Goran said without any introduction. He held out a datapad for Doran. "Nauur Rook's ship was tracked to the scrapping facility near the location previously utilized by her relation. Life-sign detectors show eight bodies. Three are located in a side room. The other five are in the control room. They're not even trying to hide their presence."

"And the Yuuzhan Vong?"

"The Vongese have decided to leave any internal disputes among the Mando'ade to the Mando'ade. Their new orders are to intervene only if our actions go against their Empire. I've already let their new commander know that you'll be handling things and to ignore any explosions or blasterfire that might arise out of your intervention."

"Is anyone in the training facility allowed to help?"

"No."

"Thought so." Doran said dryly. "I had to ask though."

"Nauur Rook's moves do not have any sense to them," Goran Beviin said, not even acknowledging Doran's comment. "There is a chance she may try to take you down with her."

"At least I'm not the only one who thinks she's gone crazy. Does she know that Kyr'tsad vaped the entire clan on Mandalore?"

"It is unlikely, but possible. We've detected no transmissions coming from the freighter or the scrap-facility."

"And if she knows?"

"Then she really does have nothing to lose and you're walking into a trap."

"Like I wasn't before?"

"She's using Mandalorian tradition to hide something," Goran said gruffly. "She didn't have to come all the way back to Gargon for the challenge."

"What do you think I should do?"

"If it's a trap, spring it and make sure you're the last one standing."

"That's very vague and unhelpful."

"If you're unable to take care of five honorless cowards who have to take hostages, then you definitely aren't the man my daughter believes you are. And my daughter might be hormone addled, but she's not stupid."

"Thanks for the backhanded compliment?" Doran replied in confusion.

"You're welcome. Do you need any weapons? Armor? Explosives?"

"No." Doran scanned through the datapad. The Mandalorians had tasked a satellite to remain in orbit above Nauur's location and the information being relayed was in real-time. "Can I have a speeder bike?"

"We can do that."

Thirty minutes later, Doran was speeding across the rubble and debris-filled world. His heart had calmed down as the wind whipped around him. The mountains of gravel and rock were all familiar to him. He had spent almost the entire year among them. Training, learning to survive, learning how to live in a galaxy that was falling apart. When he had first arrived on Gargon, these mountains of gravel had been intimidating, lifeless, a testament to the Mandalorians' own fortitude. They had been something for him to learn about, to conquer. Now, as his final days with the Mandalorians wound down, they didn't seem all that formidable any more. He had learned. He had conquered.

It wasn't just the skills he had learned with the Mandalorians, but the mentality as well. Jedi were taught to avoid conflict. Mandalorians were taught to charge into it. He was neither Jedi nor a Mandalorian, but a balance. He wouldn't seek out conflict, but at the same time he wasn't afraid of conflict if he encountered it. The Yuuzhan Vong were still scary invaders from another galaxy, but all his interactions with them with Dinua, Jintar, Tracyn and the others at his side had stripped away the veneer of invincibility that had once shrouded these alien invaders. If they came for him, they came for him, and he'd let the Force sort it all out in the end. After all, he had beaten them several times now, and he'd beat them again.

Compared to the threat the Yuuzhan Vong posed, Nauur Rook was nothing.

Not that he was going to underestimate her. Crazy Mandos were the worst type of Mandalorians after all.

Danger pulsed through the Force, and Doran flattened himself atop his speederbike as a distant popping noise reached him only a split second after a metal slug ripped through the air. Sniper fire. Doran abandoned his straight-on approach and began weaving about the mounds of gravel and debris. Another popping noise, this time from a different angle. The round pinged off the back of Doran's speeder, leaving a dark indentation in the metal plating.

The two snipers began to alternate their fire, but Doran deftly avoided each shot, often at the last second. He was so focused on the incoming fire that his mind didn't pick up on a more hidden danger. Just as he successfully avoided another volley of sniper fire, his speeder triggered a tripwire. A faint beep was all the warning Doran got before a massive explosion pushed out from below. Doran launched himself off the disintegrating speeder, lightsaber flaring to life as he deflected two more sniper rounds in the process. He landed on the hard ground, ears ringing, his clothing slightly torn up by the shrapnel from the blast.

Doran's path had taken him very close to a blind being used by one of the snipers. Said sniper immediately activated his jetpack to fly away. Doran, however, reached out with the Force to hold the Mandalorian in the air. The Mandalorian fired a wrist-rocket at Doran in response. Doran gestured with his other hand and the streaking rocket made a U-turn. The Mandalorian sniper only had the time to yell out in terror before he was blasted apart by his own rocket.

The other sniper began firing with no restraint, but Doran augmented his own speed with the Force and darted across the landscape. This wasn't the first time he had charged at a sniper, but this time he was confident in his abilities. The Mandalorian sniper took off earlier than his partner and ascended into the sky as fast as he could. He wasn't fast enough. Doran drew Dinua's WESTAR blaster pistol and fired once. The super-heated bolt of metal hit the jetpack square in the center and shorted it out. The Mandalorian yelled and flailed as he plummeted through the air. He landed with an unhealthy crunch, alive thanks to his armor, but only just.

Doran holstered Dinua's pistol and resumed his trek across the lifeless landscape towards his destination. A check on the datapad showed that Nauur and her remaining two flunkies were still waiting for him. The scrapping facility wasn't too far away, as evident by the bright red glow that shown of the nearby piles of rocky gravel. Its actual location was adjacent to Overd's old base of operations. Said base was still a crater in the ground, but the facility next to it wasn't.

The scrapping facility was a simple creation. Three large towers supported an array of conveyor belts that transported rock and spaceship debris into a glowing caldera. In front of these towers, sitting on the rim of the caldera, was a two-storey building with a single catwalk that stretched out from it over the caldera.

Upon arriving, Doran saw all three Rook Mandalorians. He also saw his friends. The situation wasn't good at all. All three of his friends were unconscious, bound up like a holiday roast, and dangled from the end of different conveyor belts. An unhelmeted Nauur Rook stood on the roof of the two-storey, ramshackle building. The two Mandalorians with her stood on either side of her.

"Leave your lightsaber and blaster down there and come on up," Nauur said in greeting. She then motioned to an external staircase. "Let's talk."

Doran eyed her suspiciously and cast another glance at his friends. He knew that Nauur currently held the upper hand, so with a small sigh, he placed his lightsaber and the plasma-blaster on the ground in front of him. and then climbed the rusted, metal stairs. The three Mandalorians remained still the entire time. "What are you playing at, Nauur?"

"I'm not playing at anything." Nauur's voice was emotionless. There was no life in her eyes as she simply held his gaze. "This is a war of annihilation."

"Your clan was destroyed," Doran shook his head. "There's no point to this anymore."

"Clan Rook died many, many years ago," Nauur said without any inflection in her voice. "The corpse was just on life-support. That it was obliterated now was a blessing in disguise."

"You're crazy."

"Am I? Tell me, Jedi. When one holds a blaster to your head and tells you that the blue sky is green, are you going to argue?"

"What are you talking about?"

"What will you do to live, Jedi Apprentice Doran Sarkin-Tainer?" Nauur continued tonelessly. "Who will you throw aside if it means you'll still live to fight another day?"

"If you're talking about the Vong, they can be beaten. Your clan even helped me do just that," Doran gestured.

Nauur just shook her head. "You've never lost anyone, have you? Will you allow me to help you understand what such a loss feels like?"

Doran paled when Nauur motioned towards Tracyn, Dinua, and Willow's wrapped-up figures. "Leave them out of this. Let them go."

Nauur's face remained stony. "As you wish."

To Doran's horror, the two Mandalorians next to Nauur fired once. The ropes attached to Tracyn and Dinua were sliced apart by the super-heated plasma round and both unconscious teens plummeted into the molten mixture below. "No!"

"One left," Nauur said emotionlessly.

Doran's horror transformed into rage and despair. He was too far away to do anything. Had no last-second miracle card to pull out. But what he could do was stop Nauur and the others before they killed Willow too. With a snarl, Doran thrust out both his hands. He knew no Force Push would be enough to take down a three Mandalorians. He had to do something a lot stronger if he wanted to save Willow's life. Powered by his anger and self-loathing, a desire to avenge his two close friends, Doran channeled those emotions and let loose the darkness that he had been keeping contained.

To the astonishment of the three Mandalorians, tendrils of purple lightning shot out of Doran's outstretched hands. The barrage slammed into Nauur with an explosive force that sent her tumbling off the rooftop. The two other Mandalorians started to swing their blasters around, but found themselves immobilized by an invisible force just as their fingers were about to pull the trigger. Doran, his expression twisted with anger and hate, made a gesture with his hands. The two Mandalorians were turned to face one and other, both still a hairsbreadth away from firing their weapons. One could feel the bewilderment and terror radiating from the both of them.

Doran closed his hands into fists and yelled, and the two Mandalorians began squeezing the trigger of their weapons. Plasma-bolt after plasma-bolt lanced out as the two blasted each other on full-auto. Even when both were dead, their fingers still continued to squeeze the trigger, the Force still holding them upright. Doran gestured violently once more, and both corpses were sent over the edge of the roof.

He took another ragged breath. But then heard another beep. This time he didn't react quick enough as an explosion took out the roof and dropped him into the building. Doran bounced off a large bit of machinery, momentarily knocking the wind out of him. The feeling of danger in the Force forced him to roll away just as a wrist-launched rocket obliterated the location and sent him flying amid a hail of fiery shrapnel. Doran coughed in pain, and when he reached down he found a large scrap of metal embedded in his side. Another whooshing sound followed before a second rocket made contact the the floor. This collapsed the second floor and Doran let out a yell as he landed painfully on the scrap of metal in his side. He shunted his pain away with the Force, doing his best not to blackout.

The hissing noise of Nauur's jetpack alerted him to her arrival.

"Your friends are all dead, Doran," Nauur's voice was now muffled by her helmet. "You've failed them. You're a failure as a Mandalorian. You're a failure as a Jedi."

Hiding in the darkened gloom of the partially-collapsed building, Doran felt his heart clench. He was too out of it to know if Willow was alive or not, but he doubted Nauur would spare her after killing the other two. "Why? Why did you do all this?"

Nauur responded by sending a gout of flame in the direction of his voice. Parts of the old building caught fire. "I wanted to live."

"That makes no sense!" Doran breathed out, clenching his side. The good news was that it didn't exactly hurt. The bad news was that the numb, cold feeling in that side was spreading. He knew the debris had more than likely cut into something that he definitely couldn't afford to have cut. He needed to buy time to regain as much of his strength as he could.

"Doesn't it?" Nauur finally laughed. But it wasn't a laugh filled with happiness. It contained nothing but maddening insanity. She tapped a device on her gauntlet and a shoulder-cannon popped up and proceeded to rip apart Doran's general area with bolts of molten metal. "My entire family, my entire clan, is dead. I knew it was going to happen, but I agreed anyway. As long as I live, Clan Rook can be resurrected. It can be shaped into something new. All I had to do was kill three people."

"Who's threatening your life?" Doran hissed out. He was fed up with the excuses. With the stupidity of the Mandalorians he encountered. He could also feel his strength slowly leave his body and knew he had to end things soon.

"It doesn't matter. It's all over," Nauur laughed again. It almost sounded as if she was crying behind her helmet. "None of it matters. If you hadn't beaten Overd, introduced that plague to Clan Rook, everything would have been fine."

"You're right about one thing. This ends here!" Doran held out a hand and Nauur was momentarily lifted into the air by her throat. She didn't panic, however. She tapped a button on her gauntlet, and the heavy-rocket attached to her jet-pack fired off. Doran was forced to abandon his Force Choke and take cover as the high-explosive detonated with an eardrum-rupturing boom.

The walls of the scrapping facility were all blown outwards from the pressure-wave, and any unsecured object on the ground was momentarily lifted up into the air. The cold Gargon air rushed through the ruins to fill the vacuum, and was immediately counter-balanced by the heat from the smelting pit nearby. The sunlight streamed down on the dusty insides, revealing Doran's location behind another machine. Nauur, vision augmented by her helmet, easily spotted him.

"It's over. All over," Nauur repeated, aiming her blaster.

Doran used a large portion of his remaining energy to leap up into the air and land on one of the conveyor belts leaving the ruins of the building. Nauur's shot missed, and Doran was carried up and along the twisting track that ran along the perimeter of the glowing caldera below. Nauur activated her jetpack again and landed on the conveyor belt a few meters away from Doran. Doran used the Force to hurl nearby pieces of debris at her, but she shot most of them down. One of the last rocks, however, hit her hand, and the blaster was knocked from her grasp and tumbled into the molten material below.

Undeterred, Nauur drew a wicked looking knife and whipped off her helmet. She let the helmet fall into the pit below as she gazed at Doran with dead eyes. "Didn't you ever wonder why Clan Rook was able to survive Tracyn Gedyc's attack when Overd 'killed' you? She has a cruiser, elite soldiers, is even a force the Protectorate would rather avoid. How could a backwater clan like our own hope to repel their forces? Those that died that day were merely examples of what happens to those who cross her plans for a Mandalorian Empire."

"You're saying you did all this because of Tracyn?" Doran said incredulously. He glanced over his shoulder as the conveyor belt took them on one final loop before it passed over the center of the pit.

Madness gleamed in Nauur's darkened gaze as she stepped towards Doran in a slow, methodical manner. "You really didn't know? I'm not sure what's sadder, your ignorance or innocence. But don't worry. I'll put you out of your misery."

She straddled his prone form, knife in both hands. But just as she began to thrust down, Doran summoned his reserve strength and lunged upwards, grabbing both of Nauur's arms. The two struggled on the moving conveyor belt. Nauur lifted a knee to strike at his injured side, and Doran's vision swam from the strike, but he didn't let go. She tried to knee him again, but Doran used the Force to send a piece of debris zooming into her back. It struck the jetpack, activating the device and overbalancing the Mandalorian. She was forced to use the quick-release function, and the jetpack flew into the air and out of sight. In the second it took for her to do that, Doran slammed the remaining hand holding the knife against the side of the conveyor belt, and the knife tumbled away.

Nauur head-butted Doran and Doran returned the favor. Both were dazed by the impact and for a moment, neither had the upper hand. But then the jetpack came flying back and it impacted with a part of the conveyor belt system and detonated. The antiquated, ill-kept, metal track buckled from the shockwave, and the section of the conveyor belt Doran and Nauur were on immediately dipped dangerously.

Doran and Nauur were almost tossed straight into the glowing maelstrom below. Doran's hands darted out and grabbed onto the frame of the destroyed conveyor belt. Having been on top of Doran, Nauur was tossed a little further and could only grab onto the actual belt-portion of the conveyor belt. The old synth-fabric lacked tensile strength and began tearing from her weight.

Doran reached out with one of his hands. "Grab my hand!"

Nauur looked up at him with emotionless eyes, even as the belt continued to tear and lower her ever further.

"Is Mandalorian honor worth dying in such a stupid fashion?" Doran yelled again, holding out his hand. Despite his words, his grip on the conveyor belt frame was far from firm thanks to his blood and sweat-slickened hands. The intense heat from below didn't make things any easier. The heat was so hot, it felt icy cold against his face. "Come on! Didn't you say you wanted to live another day? Grab my hand!"

Something changed in Nauur's eyes, a ghost of a smile appearing across her face. She swallowed heavily and started to reach up with one hand. Just as their hands touched, however, the sound a of sniper rifle barking echoed through the still air.

"No," Doran rasped.

Nauur kept her gaze locked with his, the smile remaining in place as the life left her eyes. Her grip loosened and her body plummeted into the molten morass below.

Doran looked in the direction of the shot, and to his shock saw Dinua and Willow. Dinua was behind the sniper-rifle, with Willow behind her. Further behind them were Jintar and member of Clan Skirata.

The shock and emotional rollercoaster Doran felt exacerbated his injuries. Despite his best efforts, he could no longer hold on, and felt his own grip fail. The last thing he registered before passing out was a wave of Force energy wrapping around him and preventing him from joining Nauur in death.

FtF III FtF

"Of course you couldn't have your last adventure in Mandalorian space without ending up in a bacta tank," Jintar greeted Doran as the latter floated in aid tank.

Doran groggily looked around after coming to and saw that he was in the Kyrimorut's medical wing. He knew this because of the very grouchy-looking Republic-era Jedi manipulating his bacta-tank's controls. "Jedi Jusik?"

"You're really lucky you know," Bardan Jusik grumped. "It was sheer, dumb luck that you didn't bleed out internally before you got any medical attention. If it wasn't for Kina Ha flash-cloning your organs and an artery, you'd be dead. As it is, you're going to need two more days in the tank."

"How long have I been in here?"

"Just a day so far," Jintar said reassuringly. "You were out of it though so Scout and Old Man Jusik had to do some Jedi magic."

"Massive blood loss does lead to brain damage," Bardan glowered. "Keep talking with the kid, if you notice any slurring of speech or other abnormalities, tell me at once."

"Yes, sir," Jintar said solemnly.

Doran looked around the med-bay from his view in the tank but didn't see anyone else. "Jintar, are Willow, Dinua, and Tracyn…"

"They're all alive. Well, at least Willow and Jeban are for certain. Tracyn, probably," Jintar answered awkwardly. "Jeban said that when they woke up, the Kyr'tsadika had been separated from them. They could hear her voice through a cell-wall, though, so they knew she was nearby. But when we got there, the Kyr'tsadika was nowhere to be seen. They were being kept in a nearby abandoned quarry. Sensors didn't pick them up at all. We only searched the quarry in the first place because my uncles wanted to make sure Nauur didn't have any reinforcements hidden away. Knowing the Kyr'tsadika, though, she probably had her own people bust her out before we got there."

Doran nodded, rubbing at the sides of his heads. "How are they still alive? I saw them get dropped. Felt someone die in the Force."

"Not sure about the dying part, but my uncles found several holo-emitters all over the scrapping facility," Jintar said. "A bunch of cameras as well. There were no guards in the quarry, no tech either. In fact, other than the stun-cuffs on their wrists and ankles, Jeban and Willow could have walked right out of the quarry. The cells they were in didn't even have locks."

Doran felt his headache return with a vengeance. "Nauur said that the whole reason why she did this was because of Tracyn."

"I…wouldn't be surprised," Jintar said after a moment of hesitation. "I know that you have a soft spot for her when it comes to the darker side of life, but she is Kyr'tsad's leader for a reason."

"I know," Doran exhaled slowly. "But it still doesn't make sense. What does Tracyn have to gain for doing all this? For getting rid of a clan of exiles and outlaws? Isn't Clan Rook the sort of people she'd want to have in her ranks?"

"I don't know," Jintar shook his head slowly. "And you definitely have a point about this. Everything the Kyr'tsadika does is towards her dream of a Mandalorian Empire. If she really was behind this, I can't make heads or tails on how this benefits that dream in any way."

Doran fell silent for a moment. Then, he looked around the room again. "Are Willow and Dinua doing okay?"

"Jeban's with her dads giving them an update on the whole Gorak Lah/Cad Bane adventure. Willow got word from Lothal and is on a call with Sabine Wren. From what little I could tell, the war over there isn't going so great."

Doran could do little more than continue to float in the bacta tank as he tried to keep his thoughts organized. "Hey, Jintar. Why'd Dinua take that shot?"

"Nauur?"

"Yeah."

"You didn't see what was in her other hand?" Jintar asked. "When she gripped onto your hand, a blade emerged from the gauntlet of her other hand. She was going to stab you."

Doran fell silent again. He couldn't recall seeing that. Then again, he had been bleeding out, mentally unstable after seeing Tracyn and Dinua drop into the molten material, and running on adrenaline at the time. "I didn't."

"Anyway, you should get some rest, Doran," Jintar exhaled slowly. "Your mom's already been told of what happened and she'll be here in a day or two."

Doran nodded absently and closed his eyes. He heard the doors hiss open and shut as Jintar left the med-bay. At the mention of his mom, he was suddenly reminded that he had used the Force in definitely non-Jedi approved ways. He frowned at that. He didn't feel as guilty as he thought he would. Maybe it was because the Mandalorian ethos of using all their weapons to their fullest potential had started to sink in. Maybe it was because he was just too tired to care. He had used Sith Lightning for Force's sake. Had used his hate, his despair, his pain to lash out. Every single Jedi teaching he had learned had told him he was supposed to feel guilty over this. To repent. To see the light. It was wrong to use the Force to hurt people. Yet, strangely enough for Doran, he didn't feel 'wrong' in any way.

"Wondering why you don't feel Sithy after using the Force to hurt people?" Bardan Jusik said dryly. The old Jedi was sitting at a work station by Doran's bacta tank but didn't look Doran's way.

Doran opened his eyes again. "What? How?"

"Your fingertips. Your lightning was fueled more by pain and despair and not hatred so you burnt the tips of your fingers," Bardan muttered, casually working on his computer. "The dark side scarring kind of gave it away."

Doran raised his hands, but saw that the bacta had already repaired the damage.

"It wasn't the bacta, kid," Bardan sighed as if exasperated. "It was your own mind-set. Sith keep scars, external and physical because they believe on some level that those scars are what they deserve. Jedi, especially the stupidly naïve and well-intentioned ones, reflexively reject that darkness. The second your mind registered that your girlfriends were alive, the Force began healing that self-inflicted damage."

"Shouldn't I be feeling more guilty though?" Doran asked, he was so confused he ignored the quip about 'girlfriends' entirely.

"Why?" Bardan grumbled. "You were well within your rights to take out the ones who you thought killed your friends. One act of the dark side doesn't make you an instant Sith. It makes you normal."

"What?"

Bardan rubbed at his face. "Look, you think killing a few people with the Force is going to make you the next Vader or Palpatine?"

"Of course not."

"Did killing a few people make you any less of a Jedi?"

"Jedi aren't supposed to kill, so yeah."

"Boy…" Bardan took a calming breath and stopped what he was doing, but he still didn't turn towards Doran's direction. "The whole concept of a Jedi is just that, a concept. There is no such thing as a 'perfect' Jedi. Just as the Mandalorians have no concept of a 'perfect' Mandalorian. Heck, I even consider myself to be more Mandalorian than Jedi these days and I'm terrible at being both. The whole reason why the Jedi Order collapsed was because they strived to be this 'perfect' order of people. Flawless. They even exiled those who didn't live up to this concept of perfection. But to preserve that concept, they bred millions of men without choice and freedom, and had them fight in a war that was purely political. Ideals are a great thing, don't get me wrong. And I'm not saying that the Jedi Order, or the Protectorate are necessarily evil. But no man or woman alive will ever be able to live with themselves if they constantly compare themselves to the 'ideal' Jedi or Mandalorian. Look what it did to Clan Rook. Look what it did to Anakin Skywalker. Ideals, concepts, people are better off using them as guidelines, not measuring sticks. You killed a few people with the Force? So what? Sure it wasn't a Jedi thing to do, but are you going to let that define who you are as a person now? Are you doomed to go blasting people with lightning and investing in a darker wardrobe? I know you and your mom have met other survivors of the Purge. Do any of them seem anywhere close to that 'ideal' Jedi model?"

Doran swallowed heavily, his thoughts still whirling. "No."

Bardan nodded once. "That's right. Yes, your actions and words define who you are. But only for that moment in time. It's when those actions and words become a pattern of behavior that things begin to matter. That concept of the 'ideal' Jedi that I mentioned. You might have taken a step or two away from it. But nothing's stopping you from stepping back to it. What I do want to say, however, is that those few steps you took didn't take you down the path to future Lord of the Sith."

"Huh?"

"You might have taken a few steps away from the 'ideal' Jedi. But those steps just took you a few steps closer to the 'ideal' Mandalorian. Defending friends and family is high up there on the Mandalorian list of priorities after all." Bardan finally turned towards Doran and gave the teen a brief wink. "Get some rest, ad. We need you looking whole, hale, and hearty when your mom gets here."

Doran felt Bardan's Force-presence reach out to him, and he suddenly felt very sleepy. His last thoughts before he drifted off in the bacta tank were of his year with the Mandalorians. It was definitely something he wouldn't ever be able to forget.

FtF IV FtF

Tracyn Gedyc's pale face was illuminated by the lights from the holo-table, her organic eye just as cold and emotionless as her cybernetic eye. She was flanked by a squad of Mandalorians in black armor and stared down the other party in the room fearlessly. The other party in the room consisted of several dozen Yuuzhan Vong warriors and shapers.

"I have the proof you requested," Tracyn said coldly, inserting a datachip into the holo-table. "This is the Jedi Gorak Lah failed to capture."

A video clipped played. It was the view from the cameras that had followed Doran's speeder ride to the scrapping facility and the subsequent battle afterwards.

"As you can see, he truly is a Jedi. He is capable of moving faster than the standard person. Of unleashing lightning and dominating the minds and bodies of his foe," Tracyn continued. "He is only fourteen years of age, and yet he is already this powerful."

"Your proof is acceptable," the Yuuzhan Vong warrior carrying a baton of rank said after watching the video.

"And our deal?" Tracyn said calmly.

"Do not take that tone with me. You have not delivered the Jeedai to us yet."

"Commander Carr," Tracyn made a gesture and her men all raised their assault rifles. "The deal was that I would deliver proof of the Jedi and his identity and that you would remove your ships from Kyr'tsad space. If you intend to go back on your word, you will make an enemy of Kyr'tsad and we will fight you to the death. Then you will never get the chance to prove to your people that the warriors of Domain Carr are more capable than those of Domain Lah. In fact, you will prove just the opposite. We Kyr'tsad can make a powerful ally. Or a powerful enemy. Which one we are depends on you."

The leader of the Yuuzhan Vong forces narrowed his eyes and then turned to the trio of shapers at his side. "Master Shaper Mezhan Kwaad, is the Jeedai they show a sufficient specimen for your purposes?"

The lead female shaper clicked her tongue after replaying and studying the video. "Young, malleable, powerful. He will do."

"Capturing him will prove a bit of a problem, though," Tracyn mentioned. "He is scheduled to leave Mandalorian space and will more than likely not return any time soon."

"It is not a problem for us," the Yuuzhan Vong commander said coolly. "You wish to prove that your domain will be a more reliable ally than the other Mandalorians, this is your chance. You will find a way to lure him back to Mandalorian space and inform us when he arrives."

"Planning a trap for a Jedi will not be easy. They can sense such things. If he is to return to Mandalorian space, the reason cannot be because we are targeting him specifically. Furthermore, my people are known to Boba Fett and will not be able to get as close to the Protectorate as before," Tracyn matched the Yuuzhan Vong commander's tone. She looked to the holographic figure of the Mandalorian participating in the call. "Vizsla, your recommendation?"

"I've been rounding up a group of my most fervent supporters for another mission, but I suppose we can use them here," the other young woman said. "If your information is correct and the Jedi's friends are going to enter the Ori'ramikade, then I can have my people infiltrate their ranks. When the Protectorate decides to shed any pretenses of allegiance with the Yuuzhan Vong, Domain Carr and the others will retaliate. Given the Jedi's loyalty to his friends, he will more than likely return to Mandalorian space of his own accord to help. At this point I can activate my people and we can also send word to Domains Carr and Kwaad. All we have to do is let it slip that the Yuuzhan Vong are about to attack Manda'yaim and he will come running."

The Yuuzhan Vong commander ruminated over the plan for a moment, and then nodded in a very human fashion. "This plan has merit."

"But it will take too long," Mezhan mildly objected. "The Supreme Overlord wishes to study the Jeedai not in two or three years, but now."

"Unless you wish to devote manpower to hunt down a single Jeedai in this vast galaxy, we have no other options."

"Do we not?" Mezhan calmly walked around the holo-table. "It seems to me that after spending a year with this Jeedai, this Mandalorian woman has developed feelings for him. If the Jeedai is as loyal to his friends as the Mandalorians claim, we can simply capture his friends, broadcast their execution, and he will return forthwith."

"That would antagonize the Protectorate," the Yuuzhan Vong warrior in charge said firmly. "And until I receive orders from the Supreme One himself, we are to treat them as allies."

"Bah," Mezhan flicked her wrist dismissively and a finger-spear shot out and lanced through the warrior's head. The other warriors tensed up, weapons readying. "I never thought that Domain Carr would be so cowardly as to avoid fighting with one of this galaxy's most premiere warrior cultures. No matter. I guess I will have to depend on Domains Vootuh and Rapuung in the future. Adept Seyek Kwaad, you and your team will remain with our forces here. I will leave the task of shaping this Jeedai to you."

"And what about you, Master Shaper?" The slightly manic-looking Shaper Adept asked.

"Now that I have seen what the Jeedai are truly capable of, I am even more excited to work on one. Instead of hunting down Jeedai in this galaxy, however, I will go straight to the source," Mezhan chuckled. "Come, Nen Yim. Let us find real warriors to work with."

Several of Domain Carr's warriors growled at that and moved to step in the way of the shapers. Mezhan's finger-spears flashed out once more, and three hulking masses of muscle collapsed to the ground sans heads. Mezhan casually stepped over the corpses while the other Shaper Adept with her stepped around them.

"Domain Carr, my adept is in charge of the capture of this Jeedai. I hope you will not give me a reason to report your incompetence to the Supreme Overlord," Mezhan called out airily. The doors slid shut behind her and her second adept, and the room fell quiet.

Shaper Adept Seyek Kwaad stepped forward, taking the place of fallen commander from Domain Carr. He eyed both Tracyn and Verde with the look of a mad-scientist. "The plan the Mandalorian Vizsla spoke of. Carry it out. The sooner you are able to do so, the better. After all, I believe you people have a saying in this galaxy. I cannot wait to pick this Jeedai's brain."

"It will be done," Tracyn said emotionlessly.

Seyek turned to leave, then stopped and turned back to meet Tracyn's emotionless gaze. "I am curious about something the Master Shaper said. You are obviously very close to this Jeedai and know full well what we plan to do with him. You would give up someone you are close to just like this?"

Tracyn finally showed a hint of emotion as she shook her head wryly and smirked. "You aruetii will never understand the Mandalorians. Never understand Kyr'tsad. Friends? Family? We cannot have the luxury of those until our dream is realized. Our goal is to see a Mandalorian Empire reborn. One that spans the galaxy. One where our people are proud of the blood that runs through our veins and take pride in what it means to be Mandalorian. Next to that idea, to the dreams of many, what is one person? People can die, they die every day. What we cannot allow to die, however, is that idea, that dream."

"And you would be the leader of this 'Empire'?" Seyek asked mockingly. "An Empress that sacrifices her close friends to preserve the bloodlines of your people? I do not think this Empire of your will last long if that is the case."

"Think what you will," Tracyn said coldly. "But there is no doubt that the Mandalorians need stronger leaders. Need to be more than just bounty hunters, farmers, and hired guns. We can live and fight without technology, but why should we have to? We're a culture, but one in stagnation and in decline. The rise of a new Mandalorian Empire will change all that. And I cannot and will not let anyone stand in the way of the resurrection of my people, especially a Jedi."

"Nice speech," Seyek replied with a twisted smile. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

Tracyn said nothing and instead glared at the Yuuzhan Vong shaper.

The shaper smirked and gestured to the Domain Carr warriors. "Let us leave the Mandalorians to their plots. As we had agreed, we'll withdraw all our ships from Kyr'tsad space. Mandalorians, make sure you do as you said. When the time comes we wouldn't want to confuse your forces for that of the Protectorate."

The Yuuzhan Vong filed out of the room and their ship disembarked.

"Chekar," Tracyn said after a few moments of silence. "Report."

"Empress Gedyc," Chekar Rook took a step forward from the ranks of the black-armored Mandalorians and fell to one knee. "The Bane Consortium has agreed to your terms. So long as you can pay them, their weapons and manpower are at your disposal."

"Deliver their first payment and extend my appreciation towards their decision."

"I will." Chekar rose at Tracyn's command and backed out of the room.

"The rest of you, leave us," Tracyn said to the others. They too left, leaving Tracyn alone with Verde Vizsla in the darkened meeting room.

"We've survived this trial," Verde said evenly. "If it wasn't for this plan of yours, the Vongese would have dusted us. Now we have some breathing room."

"This war will be the perfect opportunity to grow our forces," Tracyn nodded in agreement.

"You're really okay with abandoning that kid to the Vongese? You were practically a different person with him around."

Tracyn released a slow breath and looked down at the holo-table. "It's why I have to do this. I can't afford to let my feelings ruin our goal. Everything for Kyr'tsad. The Empire of our ancestors above all else."

"Everything for Kyr'tsad," Verde repeated solemnly. "As long as you're certain about this course of action. You know that once I deploy my zealots, there's no recalling them. All of them are like you, they'll die for the cause, without regret or remorse."

"I'm certain."

"Vod, this is me you're talking to," Verde's expression softened.

"I'm certain," Tracyn repeated, looking up at Verde's hologram.

"If he should ever learn what you've done…"

"He'll understand," Tracyn whispered, looking down again. "He has to."

"You're too close to this, vod. Stay out of this one, I'll handle everything. I'll deploy my people and get in touch with the Ryn. They'll let the right people know when the Vongese move on Manda'yaim. Par Kyr'tsad. Par' Manda'yaim."

Verde's hologram flickered off, leaving Tracyn alone in the darkness.

Tracyn gazed emptily out the nearest viewport and softly mouthed. "For Mandalore. For Death Watch."

FtF V FtF

Clan Skirata was hosting a 'going away' party for Doran. And the mood of this party was a whole lot different than the drunken revelry that had been Clan Rook's 'party'. This party was as kid-friendly as a Mandalorian party could be, with Jintar's vast extended family all pitching in with the celebrations. Willow took to the disjointed yet functional nature of the Skirata clan like a duck to water, apparently finding the atmosphere very similar to her own home situation on Lothal. Music was playing in the background, peals of laughter and giggles from the many children running about adding to the festive atmosphere. Even though it was his 'going away' party, Doran had a feeling that Clan Skirata had simply been looking for any reason to let loose.

But despite everyone around enjoying the food and events, Doran sat on a bench, half-watching everything, half lost in thought. These were his final hours in Mandalorian space. His final hours of a full year of craziness and near-death experiences. It was almost surreal.

"Su'cuy," Dinua Jeban approached the bench with a mug in each hand. She handed one of them to Doran.

Doran took it, absently drank from it, and then promptly began coughing and sputtering. He set the mug down, his eyes watering. "What the kriff was that?"

"Spiced tihaar," Dinua took a much smaller sip and grimaced. "Mereel's blend. He promised that come tomorrow, it'd help us forget the pain of parting."

"From the massive hangover, right?" Doran laughed weakly. Despite his words, he took another sip and began coughing again, his face reddening.

"More than likely," Dinua's lips quirked into a ghost of a smile and she took a second conservative sip.

"Force this stuff is foul," Doran took a third, much deeper sip nonetheless.

"You really want to forget me that badly, ner'vod?" Dinua asked.

"I'd need much more than a mug of this stuff to do that," Doran shook his head. "Probably a lethal amount."

Dinua set her cup down and leaned against him. "Any regrets?"

"About my year here? No." Doran wrapped an arm around her and rested his head against hers.

"What about us?"

"What about us?"

Dinua sighed softly. "That's why I was asking you, di'kut. Even I don't know what we are apart from being very good together."

"Your dads would never let anything happen," Doran chuckled ruefully. "Even if I did stay and go full-Mando."

"Di'kut," Dinua said fondly. "You'd never be able to go full-Mando if you tried. You're too Jedi-y."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing," Doran drew his head back a bit.

Dinua tilted her head and gave him a brief kiss. "A very good thing. If you were full-Mando, you'd probably be dead a dozen different ways by now."

"True, you Mandos like rushing into danger more than Jedi." Doran bent down and gave her a brief kiss in return.

"Nothing says rushing towards danger more than kissing me in full view of my fathers and half their aliit," Dinua said with a ghost of a smile.

"You're not getting me to fall for that. They're still on Gargon." Doran took Dinua's face in his hands and leaned down to give her a much deeper kiss. "Besides, you'd be worth it."

And then the sound of Goran Beviin clearing his throat promptly had Doran scramble backwards and fall off the bench.

"Buir," Dinua chided with a sigh, straightening the rough-spun tunic she was wearing. "It's his last day. At least let me give him something to remember me by."

"You do that. I'll do the same," Goran said in a no-nonsense tone.

"I'll pass on both," Doran said with a gulp, trying to preserve what dignity he had as he pulled himself back up onto the bench. "What are you doing here, sir? Not that I'm not happy to see you. But what about Gargon?"

"They can survive a day or two without me. Especially since our main source of trouble is no longer present," Goran said evenly. He pulled a very long knife from a sheath by one of his boots and rested the blade along one of his arms. "As to why I am here? Do I have to report to you now that you're leaving?"

"No, of course not."

"Buir," Dinua said again, this time with a little more annoyance. "Five minutes, then you can go back to intimidating him."

"Weddings and baby-making are done in less time," Goran remarked.

This time Dinua's slightly olive-toned face blushed. "Buir!"

"Weddings are done in less than five minutes?" Doran blinked.

"Mandalorian weddings," Goran nodded.

"It's basically, 'do you want to get married,' 'sure,' 'great, we're now married,'" Dinua supplied, still a bit red in the face.

"I more or less got the gist when he said 'Mandalorian' weddings."

"Here," Goran presented the long knife to Doran, much to the teen's surprise. "Consider it a graduation present for surviving Gargon. It doesn't compare to the blade Mand'alor gave you, but it should help you out in a pinch."

"Thank you," Doran was too much in shock to refuse.

"Use it to protect your life," Goran continued. "If I learned that the man my daughter has invested so much in decides to foolishly get himself killed, then I will have to disown her for her poor choice in men."

Doran's hand shook from that as he held the blade, and he nodded solemnly to Goran. "I'll do my best to stay alive, sir."

"You either live or you don't, there is no in between," Goran said gruffly.

Doran couldn't help but burst out laughing, startling those around him. "Sorry…sir. I never expected you to quote a tiny, green, Jedi Master."

"Daughter, are Jedi capable of surviving without a limb or two? I hear their Grandmaster is doing just fine with a prosthetic hand."

"You're trying to help him stay alive, buir. Not help him start his long march quicker."

"Was I?" Goran gave Doran a look that had made many other Mandalorians shake in their boots.

"Yes, Buir," Dinua stood and began lightly pushing at her father. "Now give me five minutes. I promise I'll still be unmarried and un-impregnated after that time is over."

Goran let himself be pushed away, and Dinua returned to the bench. Doran looked up awkwardly at her, smiling weakly. "So…what's next?

"We enjoy these last few hours together," Dinua held out a hand and Doran took it and allowed her to pull him to his feet. "It's a big galaxy, so it's not a 'goodbye forever.' More of a 'goodbye for now'. But that's not for a little while."

Doran kept an arm around Dinua as he held her gaze, their emotions were clear for the other to see. He nodded. "Not for a little while."

"You going to kiss me or did my father scare you off?"

"Please, the last thing I want to think about while kissing you is your dad," Doran made a face.

"Di'kut," Dinua grabbed the back of his head and smashed their lips together. Once his mind caught up with what was happening and he began embracing her in earnest, she kicked off the ground and wrapped her legs around him to deepen the kiss.

Cheers went up from the nearby members of Clan Skirata, reminding Dinua and Doran that they had a pretty big audience. Breaking the kiss, they rested their foreheads against one and other and chuckled softly.

"So that's a 'goodbye for now' kiss?" Doran remarked.

"That was a 'you better stay alive, di'kut,'" Dinua breathed out. She reached up to kiss him again. "Let me show you what a 'goodbye for now' kiss is like."

Jintar cleared his throat before their lips could touch. "You two… Can you not give my cousins a crash-course on Mando Sex-Ed? Some of them have a couple years to go before they're ready for that."

"Copaani mirshmure'cye, Skirata," Dinua grumbled, abandoning her effort.

"Yeah, why do you have to ruin the show?" Willow said perkily.

"And here I thought she was only a 'good friend' and not your 'girlfriend,'" another voice said in amusement.

"Mom!" Doran almost quite literally dropped Dinua in his shock and embarrassment.

"Jedi Sarkin-Tainer," Dinua quickly untangled herself from Doran and shifted to stand in front of him.

"Dinua, it's been awhile," Tyria Sarkin-Tainer said with a wry grin. She was standing on Jintar's right, while Willow was on his left. Now that she had the young quasi-couple's attention, she stepped forward and gave Dinua a once-over. "Nice to see you're still on top of any situation. I hope my son isn't giving you too hard a time."

"Mooom!"

"Nothing I can't handle," a red-faced Dinua managed, clearing her throat.

"I thought you weren't supposed to get here for another few hours," Doran said with a small scowl.

"I can always get back on my ship and circle the planet a few times so you have more time to make-out with her," Tyria replied.

Doran closed his mouth and didn't dare to say any more.

Tyria smiled. "Don't worry. We don't have to leave right away, so you can relax for a couple of hours. Go ahead and enjoy the party with your friends. From what I've heard of your year so far, you definitely deserve some R and R."

"You already have our next destination lined up?" Doran asked, his embarrassment fading as curiosity took over.

"Mhm," Tyria nodded. "How do you feel about helping a princess?"

"Oh?"

"Princess of Artorias, Kaye Galfridian," Tyria said. "Artorias was one of the first planets the Yuuzhan Vong hit. The survivors of their armed forces are mostly fighting a guerilla war at the moment. She has connections to Master Skywalker, and he wanted us to lend them a hand for a bit. But like I said, we can spare a few hours."

"Princess Kaye Galfridian?" Willow voiced. She had a datapad out and was scrolling through the HoloNet. Finding what she was looking for, she projected a holo of a young, blonde woman above the datapad. "Nineteen years old. Single. She's hot. Do you normally meet attractive, older women in your adventures, Doran?"

"No," Doran said dryly. He could almost feel Dinua's glare-of-death striking a nonchalant Willow. "Do you know what she wants us to do, mom?"

"Spring a bunch of refugees from a Yuuzhan Vong camp and help them move to a safe location," Tyria said. "I'd ordinarily pass on the assignment, but your dad and I figured that with your training here, you're ready for the big leagues. I'll tell you more en route. Now go, have fun."

"Okay," Doran nodded. He, Dinua, Jintar, and Willow headed for the activities the Skirata clan had set up. Part-way there, however, Doran noticed something in Dinua's otherwise impassive demeanor. "Dinua?"

Dinua shook her head faintly and offered him a weak smile. "It's nothing. Let's go get some uj cake before Jintar's relatives eat it all up."

"Okay." They walked in silence for a little while, Willow and Jintar leading the way.

"Doran."

"Yeah?"

Dinua stood up on her tiptoes and planted a soft, brief kiss on his lips. "That's my 'goodbye for now' kiss. No matter who you meet in your adventures. I hope you will not forget me."

Doran's return kiss contained the same ephemeral nature of hers. "I told you, no amount of tihaar will make me forget you, Dinua Jeban. Even if the Force keeps us apart in this life, we're still aliit no matter how many lightyears are between us."

Dinua exhaled slowly and just hugged his arm with both of hers in a very 'un-Dinua' like fashion. "Di'kut."

"That's me."

"Uj cake, now," Dinua tugged him along. "And more tihaar. Definitely more tihaar."

"Yes, ma'am," Doran laughed, and he let Dinua guide him towards the table with trays of food lined up.

Jintar and Willow walked along side them, and soon the stresses of the last few days vanished as Doran indulged in rich food and ridiculous Mandalorian carnival games. For a moment, there was no war going on, no planet or person in need of saving. For a moment, they could all be teenager enjoying the brief respite as their worries and cares were temporarily forgotten. They had done more than their part to forge their future, and had earned a break. Smiles were shared, jokes were had, and as the daylight slowly vanished, Doran's last hours in Mandalorian space ticked away.

FtF Story End FtF

A\N: Yay, I didn't think I'd ever be able to finish this story! Hope you all enjoyed my little spin-off, all started by the plot-bunny spawned from Doran's aDA Mandalorian story-arc. If you're reading this story first, Doran's adventures continue in A Destiny Altered but he's more of a side-character in that story.

Thanks to everyone who's followed along over the last six! years.

The fates of these characters would have played out in my now abandoned aDA universe:

Tracyn gets her Mandalorian Empire, and during the war with the One Sith, threatens to withhold the support of the Mandalorian fleets unless Doran gives her an heir. Doran counters, asking for a second child, one for himself to raise, and Tracyn agrees on the condition no one knows about who the second child's mother is and that the child would have no claim to the 'throne'. After the war with the One Sith, Doran later ends up marrying his travel partner/apprentice and they have two children.

Jintar and Dinua get married and settle down on a farmstead, and they have five kids. Two of them end up in relationships with Jedi (one of those Jedi is Doran's second kid with Tracyn, and the other is one of Hera Wren's children) and some of their descendants go on to help the reformation of the Army of the Light in Grandmaster Ben Skywalker's Jedi Order. The others join the scattered clans' resistance movement against the Mandalorian Empire

The Mandalorian Empire lasts for almost a hundred years. But then falls shortly before Abeloth's return during a brutal civil war as members of the scattered clans openly rebel against the 'Imperial' family. These rebels are led by the descendants of the other child of Tracyn and Doran in nice big space-soap-opera-style drama. It's later revealed that the civil war was in part triggered by Abeloth's agents to remove one of the most fierce fighting forces from play during her return.