Odessen
Five Days Later
Commander's Quarters

"Stop whining." Fynta stood in the silent bedroom, but she could feel Aric's brooding from the kitchen.

The Cathar had thought of another complaint that morning. Aric had been insufferable since Lana's revelation about his supposed Force sensitivity. His mood swung wildly between crippling guilt and agitation. Fynta had tolerated it for the first hour; now, she was ready to shove her husband at the nearest soldier and have them do drills until she could deal with him again.

Aric's response wafted up the stairs while Fynta plaited her hair. "It's a valid concern."

Fynta rolled her eyes and tied off the strands. "No, it's not." She tugged on a jacket and started for the main room where Shillet waited with her face buried in a datapad. Fynta beseeched the girl to make Aric see reason. "Will you tell your father that he's an accomplished sniper due to years of hard work, please? He won't listen to me."

The Nautolan snorted, managing to roll her entire face towards Aric. "Will it get me out the door faster?"

"Probably not." Aric tipped back a bottle of water and tossed one to the girl. Then, he pointed at Fynta. "What if Lana's right? It makes me a liability in the field."

Shillet and Fynta groaned as one. With fingers curled into her palms, Fynta took a deep breath and let it out. "It's never mattered before, so I don't see why it would become a problem now. Whether it's fifteen years of practice or mystical Force osik, you're the best marksman I know. Now, can we please go?"

Aric narrowed his eyes, most likely searching for an insult in Fynta's exasperated praise, then held one arm towards the door. "We've been waiting on you."

Though she tried to resist, Fynta's tongue shot between her lips. Shillet's snort of laughter cut the tension, and Fynta snatched her rucksack from the floor. "You're the one that likes my hair long. I've got to braid it again."

It wasn't a complete lie. Fynta loved the way Aric played with her hair with idle fascination. It finally reached her shoulder blades, more than long enough to plait into a proper line instead of the intricate pattern that Keshal had taught her.

Changing the subject before Aric could argue that too, Fynta looked at Shillet. "Got your buy'ce?"

The Nautolan patted her backpack and started for the door. "On a scale of one to ten, how bad is this going to suck?"

"Depends on how badly you want to be a soldier," Fynta answered while Aric secured their quarters. They were taking Shillet into the mountains for some foul weather camping to teach the girl how her new armor worked. It wasn't beskar, but Fynta had managed to scavenge some plates from the armorer that would do for now. While the helmet wasn't airtight, it would protect her from the elements.

Before Shillet could answer, a familiar voice boomed through the corridor. "About time, I was thinking of starting without you." Cormac stood at the bend, hands on his hips and a grin plastered across his face.

Fynta's gaze slid to his leg, brow lifting at the lack of a brace. "Probably should have taken that head start, vod." The big man sputtered indignantly, and Fynta lifted her chin. "Seriously, are you up for this?"

"Hell yes." Cormac thumped his knee, filling the air with a meaty clap that was too dense to be flesh. "New and improved model with more flexibility. All thanks to the giant slug."

Fynta circled Cormac while he posed. "Elara approved?"

"Of course." Balic wiggled his ass when Fynta stopped behind him to study the profile of the brace through his pant leg. She smacked it, and he chuckled. "You think I'm brave enough to try without it?"

"Speaking of which," Aric interrupted. "Where is she?"

Cormac's smile faded. "Elara isn't fond of this sort of thing, and Tayl's too young to take on that ridge. They're going to sit this one out." Aric nodded his approval, while Shillet huffed and folded her arms. Cormac's grin returned as he leaned in conspiratorially. "Just means we don't have to share the snacks."

Shillet brightened while Fynta and Aric pretended not to notice that Cormac flashed a bag of brightly colored puffs that weren't on the packing roster. She'd have been more surprised had he not brought them.

As the small group moved through the base, Cormac cleared his throat. "Say, boss, when do you think I'll be fit for the field again?"

Fynta's stomach tightened at the prospect of her closest friend leaving the safety of the base. He had his wife and son, now; Cormac's place was with them, not risking his neck to keep her from doing something stupid. For years, he'd been her silent second for those things she knew Jorgan would disapprove of. Now, Fynta realized how selfish that had been. If she had her way, none of them would leave Odessen again.

"Let's see how this exercise goes," Fynta answered. She knew from the chagrin on the big man's face that it was the wrong one, and patted his arm to take the sting out of it. "I don't want to risk you setting yourself back."

Cormac snorted. "I've had more downtime with this," he gestured at his legs, then at hers, "than you did when you lost yours. Come on, Fynta. Put a weapon in my hands again. Let me be useful."

"What about Elara and Tayl?" Jorgan asked without looking over. He'd lowered his voice so that the accusation didn't travel to where Shillet walked a few paces ahead of them. She had her datapad out, scrolling through whatever kids her age thought of as entertainment.

A strange grunt worked through Cormac, and Fynta realized it was his version of one of Aric's growls, the sort that meant someone had trodden on forbidden territory. Aric didn't seem to have noticed, though Fynta knew he had. It was Aric's gift; to speak the hard truth when soldiers didn't want to hear it. The Cathar turned cool, blue eyes on Cormac. "You know I'm right."

Cormac scrubbed a hand over his bald head without replying, but Fynta saw the words in the way his jaw worked. He felt trapped and useless; she knew the feeling all too well. With a playful bump of her hip, Fynta tried to lighten the mood. "I'll get you that weapon." His lips split into a wide grin, but she held a hand up. "However, I won't take you from Elara and Tayl again. We'll work out a compromise, deal?"

"Right now, I'd take guard duty on the latrines," Cormac laughed and slapped Fynta on the back. "Thanks, boss. I knew I could count on you."

Odessen
Mt. Ne'johaa
Northern Face
0400 Hours

Fynta stirred, thunder cracking through her dream while Valkorion stared at the sky. Slowly, her gaze lifted too, and they watched the storm rage from the top of the mountain. "What are you doing here?" Her words echoed through the valley despite the roar of the wind. It brought with it the sense of foreboding.

"A storm is coming," Valkorion answered, his voice stronger than Fynta had ever heard it. His robes snapped in the wind, no longer ethereal, but the rain didn't touch him. The man watched a bolt of lightning obliterate a tree in the valley, seemingly unimpressed by the destructive power of nature, then looked down at her.

Fynta dragged her attention from the sky to the dead Sith. Loose strands of hair stung her cheeks. "It's already here."

A smile curled Valkorion's lips, triggering a knot in Fynta's stomach. "You are almost ready."

"Fynta." Aric's voice warmed the back of Fynta's neck. The storm continued to rage outside, tugging at the tent like an animal searching for a way in. He shifted and stretched one arm across her body to swat at an infernal buzzing. Aric chuckled when she pulled his hand against her chest. "Fynta, the comm."

"Fucking comm," Fynta growled. Forcing her eyes open, Fynta gauged the distance between her husband's warmth and the device that connected her to responsibilities that she'd never asked for. With a curse, Fytna retreated from the thermal sleeping bag long enough to snatch the infuriating link, then scrambled back into Aric's embrace. He folded the blanket around them while she answered. "What?"

Fynta's chattering teeth took some of the bite out of her response. Not that it would have mattered to the woman on the other end. The time displayed beneath Lana's perfectly groomed features read 0400 hours. Likely, the Sith had never gone to bed, leaving Fynta feeling like a chakaar for snapping at her.

Lana countered Fynta's foul mood with calm. "You're needed back at base."

A heavy sigh sounded behind Fynta as Aric rolled away. She knew that he'd contact Cormac to warn the man that they'd be bugging out early. Rubbing a hand down her face, Fynta nodded at the Sith. "On our way." There was no point asking why. If Lana hadn't wanted Fynta to know, she would have said so immediately. Fynta had stopped trying to make the Sith play by her rules months ago.

When Fynta turned, Aric had a holo of Cormac balanced on his thigh. The big man yawned, then scraped a hand over his head. "No problem. The storm is supposed to pass in a couple of hours. Shillet's exhausted, slept through the whole thing so far, I'll get her down the mountain when the weather clears."

"I owe you." Aric ended the call and looked over his shoulder. "Never fails."

Fyna forced a grin that she didn't feel and kissed Aric's cheek. "At least we had our clothes on this time."

Aric's smirk matched Fynta's in spirit. They broke camp quietly, though she doubted Cormac could have heard them over the wind. The man had probably gone back to sleep, using his younger tent mate as an excuse to dodge the heavy lifting. The creative ways she'd tease the man later lifted Fynta's spirit enough to make the task of packing everything in the rain bearable. While Fynta's armor kept her dry, they'd need to break everything out and dry it as soon as they had the chance. She didn't look forward to the mud-soaked slide back down the mountain either.

By the time Aric and Fynta made it to the bottom, the sun had turned the sky a drab grey. No light penetrated the cloud cover, so Fynta assumed the storm still raged at the top. Aric removed his helmet once they stepped inside and looked back the way they'd come. Fynta put a hand on his arm. "She'll be fine. This is what Cormac did for a living before Havoc Squad."

Sighing, Aric followed Fynta into the base. "Yeah, I know."

Fynta tried to hide her smile as her husband sulked past, then it slipped when she realized that she wasn't concerned about the girl's safety. It was a surreal moment, realizing that she had proof that she'd be a terrible mother. Shillet was thirteen, sleeping in a tent in the middle of a storm, and would have to climb down a slippery cliff with only one other person to spot for her. And, he had a busted leg. Shab, she really was osik at this.

With a new weight in her chest, Fynta started for the meeting room without bothering to change. If the war council didn't like her wearing mud-covered armor, then they should have let her sleep. Fynta and Aric were the last to arrive. Lana, Vector, Quinn, Theron, Koth, Solish, and Notiac all waited around the council table. Fynta noted the absence of Torian, Kaeto, and Kozen, and made a mental note to ask about their whereabouts.

"Sorry for the delay," Fynta said by way of greeting. She threw herself into a chair and waved for Lana to begin while Aric paced the back wall. Fynta knew better than to suggest the man sit when he had something on his mind.

"Senya woke two hours ago," Lana stated without preamble. Fynta paused in the middle of a yawn and blinked at the Sith who continued without notice. "She is still weak, but healed. Kaeto is with her now, and Captain Dorne estimates no more than 3 weeks before she is battle ready."

Koth stirred on the other side of the table. "For us?" He used the same clipped tone as every other time the Zakuulan knight came up. Fynta knew they had made an effort to become cordial, and she couldn't help but wonder if this new malice came from the sting of fresh betrayal. He'd offered a truce, and Senya had stolen their chance to kill Arcann. Now, what could have been the end of a war, had spiraled into a manhunt.

Lana's lips pressed into a thin line, and Notiac picked up the explanation before her lover could scold Koth. "Conditionally." The Jedi activated a holo in the middle of the table. "She recorded a message before succumbing to exhaustion."

"I know that many of you are not pleased to see me." The woman speaking looked older than Fynta expected. Her silver hair brushed shoulders that looked too narrow to support the pauldrons that normally adorned them. Dark circles hung beneath Senya's grey eyes, but the voice was strong. "I chose to save my son. I do not expect you to agree or understand. I've already lost one, and—" Senya paused, her throat working against the anguish in her eyes. Whatever she'd planned to say didn't escape as words.

Leaning forward, Fynta steepled her fingers beneath her chin while Senya pleaded her case. "Arcann is not the same. He can still be reasoned with. Allow me to search for my son, and I promise you complete fealty and the use of my skills until this war is over." The woman eased higher in her bed, jaw locked in a stern expression. "He is confused and afraid, but there is hope for him."

The recording ended, leaving the room in silence. "So," Fynta interjected when no one else spoke. "Not for Vaylin?"

"She wasn't mentioned," Lana admitted.

Fynta chewed the inside of her lip, swiveling the chair side to side while she considered this not wholly unanticipated development. "Does she know about the conditioning?"

"She does now," Lana answered, though the normally chatty woman didn't appear to enjoy the topic. "There was no evidence that she had prior knowledge and the horror was...as expected."

Lana had displayed an aversion to Vaylin's mind control from the beginning. Fynta grew more curious about the woman's reaction, but hadn't thought of a tactful way to approach it. After all, few at the table hadn't experienced some loss of agency during their careers. Fynta had the fierfeking Sith Emperor living in her head, and all Lana had displayed was mild annoyance back in the swamp when Fynta had let Valkorion save the woman's life.

Pushing those thoughts aside, Fynta leaned back in her chair. "Let's keep an eye on that. I don't trust Senya to think rationally when her children are concerned."

Theron knocked his knuckles against the table, and Fynta groaned at the signal that he was about to hijack the meeting. "While we're here, we need to discuss Vaylin's party. I have a plan."

"Is it a good one?" Fynta asked, regretting her choice to wear soiled armor instead of changing into something more comfortable.

Fynta knew the man well enough to see the adolescent snark on the tip of his tongue when Zolah spoke up. "He's come up with worse." Fynta smirked until the chair next to her filled with a surly Aric. He'd already been banned from that mission on the belief that a Cathar would be too recognizable at what was sure to be a mostly human party. Naturally, he hadn't taken the news well.

"You're both hilarious," Theron groused as he tapped on the datapad. A detailed schematic of the palace took the place of Senya's heartfelt pleas. Along with a diagram of how Zakuulan Knight armor fastened together. The spy droned on about contacts, levels of operation, and guard shift schedules.

Fynta held up a hand, stopping Theron mid-sentence. "What's with the armor?"

"I'm getting to that," Theron snapped. "Hold all questions until the end."

Koth pulled a face that made Fynta snort, and Theron's ears turned an unhealthy shade of red while he continued to speak. "Vector and Quinn have volunteered to be our eyes on the floor. They'll fit in with the population easily enough, and Vaylin doesn't know their faces. You and I will take the guards."

"Who's providing backup when everything goes to shit?" Aric asked, voice thick with the agitation that he'd never been good at holding back.

When Fynta met her husband's gaze, she was careful not to let the pity she felt for him show. "I'll take Torian and Felix. They're both proven in the field."

"And me," Koth added with a raised finger. "Since we're taking my ship and all."

Hurt shone in Aric's eyes that Fynta held her ground on his part in this mission. They'd promised to stay together, even though they'd known it to be a lie. Shillet needed her father on base, now more than ever. The fact that Zakuul didn't host many aliens was a convenient excuse to leave him behind, and he knew it.

The tickle of a vibrating comm distracted Fynta from her guilt long enough to silence it. The moment had moved on, though Fynta knew Aric would have something to say when they were alone. Vector continued, melodious and soothing while he outlined the sequence of events. Vector and Quinn would enter first, while Theron and Fynta snuck in through the service entrance. They would incapacitate a couple of guards, steal their armor, and travel deeper into the complex. Meanwhile, Zolah would work from a low orbit shuttle with Torian and Felix prepped for extraction should the worst happen. Overall, it was a flimsy plan doomed to failure, but it left plenty of room for improvisation.

When the meeting was finally called to an end, Aric pushed from the table and left without a word. Fynta tried to follow, but got caught in last minute suggestions. A quarter of an hour passed before she could extricate herself from the group to follow her husband.

The lights were on when Fynta entered her quarters, but Aric didn't meet her at the door. She found him on their bed, eye patch tossed onto the side table and his legs stretched out while he read. Fynta knew something was wrong when he didn't acknowledge her. "Go ahead," she sighed, removing her gloves so that she could start on the rest of her armor. "Get it out of your system now."

"Get what out of my system," Aric asked with a flat note that chilled Fynta's blood. She glanced at him, then shucked the rest of her armor and let it stay where it fell. When she was done, Fynta positioned herself at the bottom of the bed, folded her arms, and lifted one eyebrow at her husband. She would stand like that all night if she had to, but Fynta refused to sleep while he was angry.

"Do you have any idea what the last six years have been like?" Aric's voice remained emotionless. Fynta didn't move or speak, and the amount of fury in that one glacial eye stole her breath when he found her face. "To have no idea where my wife was, to be told that she was dead, that I'd be discharged for continuing to look for her. To know that I'd spend the rest of my life alone because you were too much of a goddamned hero to consider what you might be leaving behind."

Fynta stared at her husband, speechless while he fumed. She'd only seen him like this one other time, seething to his core over the injustices they'd suffered. It had been the moment before he put a bolt through Agent Zane.

Aric released his rage with a long breath and pinched the bridge of his nose. "My biggest regret," he continued, voice low and rough, "was letting you walk off that ship. Now, I've got a room full of people telling me to do it again."

"We both knew this would happen." Aric's derisive snort cut off the rest of Fynta's argument. She knew better than to continue when he was in a mood like this, so she did the only other thing that came to mind.

Crossing the room, Fynta snatched Aric's comm from the desk and thumbed through his messages until she found the one that she knew he hadn't deleted. "Hey, dad." Shillet's wobbly voice filled the room, and Fynta watched Aric go rigid while listening to his daughter act like she wasn't dying inside. It had been from the night she'd learned about the recall, and her final attempt to reach out to the father she'd never see again.

Fynta heard the abandonment in the girl's words the same as Aric, but she read a completely different message from it. Shillet had been a daughter who wanted to be strong for the man who had changed her life, not an accusation of poor parenting. Fynta didn't understand why Aric chose to keep that recording, and she felt lousy for using it against him, now.

When the message ended, silence filled the space it had left behind. Aric's chest rose and fell with rapid breaths, then his lips pulled back into the dangerous snarl. "That's a low blow."

"I'm sorry, Riduur." Fynta set the comm down where it had been, then walked around to Aric's side of the bed. He glared up at her, jaw tensing when she cupped it between her fingers. "But, I'll do what I have to to keep you both safe. She needs you right now, stay and be her father."

To Fynta's surprise, Aric swung his legs over the bed and pulled Fynta close enough to rest his face against her stomach. "I hate having to choose."

"Me too." Fynta ran her nails over Aric's scalp until he released another long breath. The argument was over. As much as Fynta wanted him by her side, he couldn't leave Shillet, not so soon after getting her back. They needed this time to recover; Fynta would find her place after the war was won. "I'll be fine. It's just a party."

Odessen
Outdoor Landing Platform

Verin set foot on the metal platform and immediately scooted to the railing. Seven pairs of boots ran past, their owners shouting and shoving as teenagers did. He smiled at the stampeding horde, laughing at the startled looks of the poor shabuir who had no idea what Torian had unleashed on their lives.

The crisp smell of winter in the mountains made up for the stuffiness that came from two weeks of recycled air. Verin even welcomed the bite of cold on his cheeks. He took a moment to savor the quiet peace of Odessen while it lasted, then called up to the Fett who'd been tasked with emptying the ship. "That all of them?"

The man snorted a laugh and replied with a hand gesture that would have pushed Verin to anger had he not understood the man's glee at having a peaceful ship again. "K'oyacyi, vod." Fett didn't wait for Verin's response. They'd refuel, restock, then get the hell off Odessen before Torian decided to send the verd'ika back. Verin had already made it clear that he wouldn't be making that trip again.

After watching the loading ramp seal, Verin started towards the main hub of the Alliance Base. He kept the tail end of the weaving mass of teens in view, but made no effort to catch up. They veered towards what Verin assumed was a cantina judging by the sharpness of the turn, then came to a sudden stop. The back end of the group slammed into the front, then was nearly flattened when the kids in the front scrambled away from the doorway. By the time Verin reached them, he saw the reason for their lost momentum.

Torian and Fynta blocked the cantina entrance, one with arms crossed, and the other hands on hips. Verin pushed through the group to embrace his sister and alor. "Su cuy'gar," he laughed, elbowing Tranx out of his stupor. The boy had talked non stop about his aunt after her visit to Darvannis. He'd planned all the challenges, activities, and training to do with the infamous Fynta Wolfe, then promptly lost his ability to speak every time they were near one another. Verin thought it was hilarious, Keshal found her son's awe annoying.

"What's all this?" Fynta asked as she embraced Verin. While Mandalorians didn't bow to anyone, they understood respect. Torian was their alor, the chieftain who'd restored the Cadera clan and brought honor to their families again. Fynta was something more, a Mandalorian who ran a galactic army, killed emperors, and represented the indomitable Mando'ade of legend. Tranx wasn't the only youngster standing in wide-eyed silence.

"Did I forget to mention it?" Torian asked, taking his turn to greet Verin with a rough gripping of forearms. Fynta's brow lifted, and Verin burst into a fit of laughter.

Unease ripple ran through the gathered warriors who didn't know if they should join Verin's merriment or find somewhere else to be. Tranx settled on a grin, but it was his fiance who answered. "We're here for training." Zula folded tiny arms and studied the woman they'd come to meet. "Supposedly, you're the best."

Verin wiped his eyes, steadied his laughter, and clapped Torian on the shoulder. "Alor, you have gett'se of beskar." Clearing his throat, he tried to act professional while staring into the dawning horror on his little sister's face. "Torian invited the next generation for some...controlled battle practice."

"Is that so?" Fynta's gaze slid over the expectant faces, finally settling on Zula. She reached an arm out, letting it hover in the space between them. "You must be the woman who's going to set my nephew straight."

Zula eyed Fynta's offering with the suspicion of a girl who'd grown up without a clan. Her family had lived on the fringes, waiting to be invited back after Jicoln's disastrous uprising. Verin didn't know who they'd belonged to, but had been more than happy to swear loyalty to Torian when he offered.

At last, the small redhead gripped Fynta's arm with a nod. "Yeah, I think I can do that." Her gaze slid in Tranx's direction, and a smirk twitched her lips. "Provided he grows up."

Like that, the tension broke and nervous chuckles turned to easy banter with more than a few lewd jokes aimed at Tranx. With introductions out of the way, Fynta rubbed the top of Tranx's head, mussing his artfully styled strip of hair. He was a head and a half taller than Fynta now, and still growing. Verin often forgot how big the boy was until he saw him standing next to someone else. Tranx was shedding the gangly profile of adolescence, adding muscle and inches onto a frame that would become impressive. The older he got, the more Tranx looked like the father who sired him.

"Are you sure you're ready for this?" Fynta asked with a laugh, tearing Verin from his thoughts. She had one arm looped around Tranx's waist in a matronly embrace while aiming animated hand gestures at Zula.

Tranx's fiance was short and skinny, all red hair and freckles with the mad, green eyes of a proper Mandalorian woman. She grinned and leaned forward as if to impart a secret. "We'll see if he can keep up."

Laughter and catcalls erupted from the gathered youth while Tranx made attempts to defend his reputation. Fynta chuckled and patted his chest. "I like this one."

Pulling away, Fynta waved for one of her people to take control of the group. He was a clanless Mandalorian, judging by his armor, but Fynta assured Verin that there was none more suited to handling the horde that he'd brought to Odessen. Verin watched his kids vanish into an industrial lift and forced his rising pulse to calm. Tranx was a man by their traditions, not a child that needed to be coddled. Still, sending his son away with a stranger tweaked Verin's nerves.

"Your timing couldn't be worse," Fynta sighed when they were alone. She nodded for Verin to walk with her and Torian into a smaller lift that he assumed would take them inside. "Torian and I are about to leave for a mission, and I have no idea how long it'll take."

"Oh no," Verin shoved between the alor and his sister. "You're not leaving me here alone with these kids again. This was your idea." He jabbed a finger at Torian, as much of an accusation as a threat.

Torian chuckled and batted Verin's hand away. The lift doors closed, and Fynta rounded on them both. "Speaking of which, what the hell? You weren't going to warn me about a bunch of shiny baby Mandos?"

With a shrug, Torian affected an innocent look that still worked on his younger-than-natural features. He was well into his thirties, but still carried the youthful glow of a much younger man. That had always annoyed Verin. "Must've slipped my mind."

"Right." The lift dinged open, and Fynta stepped out. "Just for that, I'm sicking them on your girlfriend."

"Girlfriend?" Verin leaned forward to look at the man. "Could it be true?"

Torian muttered some not nice things in Mando'a that both Fynta and Verin ignored. "She's a Jedi," Fynta continued as they wove deeper into the base without offering any direction for Verin to memorize. "You've met her. The cute one that came to Darvannis with me."

Verin felt his cheeks rise further. "Noara? The spunky Jetii who wanted to Force wedgie Fett?" Torian rolled his eyes, and Verin laughed again. "We need to get drinks. I've got to hear how this happened."

"On that note." Torian turned down a separate hallway, walking backward while he spoke. "You two stay out of trouble. I'm going to warn Noara that she's just inherited new students. Then, cook her dinner."

Verin wiggled his fingers in a mocking salutation to his old friend, then turned back to Fynta. "I hear you've been busy. Where's the husband?"

"Aric's in a strategy session with some of the military heads right now," Fynta answered, turning down another hallway. Verin had lost count of how many they'd taken, but the smell of food hinted that they were nearing the living quarters. "I'm sure he'll be thrilled to learn about our new arrivals, too. It'll be a hell of a way to introduce Shillet to that side of the family."

At the mention of his niece, Verin sobered. "How's that going, by the way?" He'd heard from Torian about the rescue mission. Keshal's warning rang in the back of Verin's mind, and now that he was with her, he saw the tension in Fynta's posture. She was a mother now; she'd never planned for that.

Fynta shrugged. "She's Aric's daughter. We're still in a transitory stage, you know? Getting to know each other." Pressing her palm to the panel, Fynta paused before opening the door. "We're figuring it out."

Verin held his hands up. "I won't interfere." Fynta nodded and led the way into her personal space. It was spartan with only a few touches of personalization. Not that Verin expected more from a couple brought together by the military. What few items that were used for decorative purposes looked to have real world application as well.

A young, green skinned Nautolan lounged on the couch with a datapad three inches from her nose. Verin wasn't sure what to expect, but an average teenager hadn't been it. Listening to Aric talk about his daughter over the years made Verin think of a little girl. This one's legs were long enough at thirteen to drape over the arm of the sofa.

"Shillet," Fynta greeted, ruffling the girl's head tresses as she passed the couch. "Meet your uncle Verin. He's an idiot, but we love him."

Black eyes peered over the datapad, then Shillet sat up. "I've heard a lot about you. Is it true that both of your wives shot you?"

Verin chuckled, casting a vengeful look at his sister. "Only the first one. The second likes to make threats, but she's harmless."

Shillet giggled. "So, what do I call you? Fynta said that buir means both mom and dad. Do you have a word for uncle?" She slid her knees up to make room for Verin to sit on the other end of the sofa.

"We don't have masculine or feminine words. Ba'vodu means both, looking to learn?" Verin threw one arm over the back of the cushion and spared a glance at Fynta. She met his eyes with lifted brows. At least it sounded like she'd made attempts to teach her new daughter their ways, but he wondered how much resistance Aric put up.

"Yeah," Shillet answered, sitting straighter. The girl was skinny, but not in the fit way that Zula boasted. Shillet had no muscle mass on her body, something that she'd need to change before developing bad habits. "Fynta's been teaching me when she has the time. Running an army takes a lot, though."

Verin looked over at his sister again, then smiled at the girl. "My son and his future misses came with me, they're just a few years older than you. I bet Tranx and Zula would teach you the important things."

Shillet's eyes widened and Fynta cleared her throat. "We hadn't gotten that far yet." She joined them, two beers grasped between her fingers and a can of fizz pop for Shillet. Verin accepted his with a nod of thanks while Fynta attempted to sum up Mandalorian mating traditions. "Mando's die young, Shil'ika. So, we marry and procreate young too. Your average Mandalorian will get married between sixteen and twenty."

Shillet's mouth fell open, the standard reaction of an aruetii. Fynta took a drink of her beer and flopped into one of the chairs. "His son is sixteen, his girl a year younger. They won't get married until next year."

"But." Shillet looked between Fynta and Verin, grasping her drink in a white knuckled grip. "They're just kids."

"Remember when I told you that at thirteen you could take your verd'goten and be considered an adult?" Shillet nodded, and Fynta gestured like she'd made her point. "Tranx has been an adult for three years. In normal society that would put him at what, twenty?"

Shillet swallowed and picked at the tab on her can. Verin could tell what the girl's question would be long before she worked up the nerve to ask. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. "So, if I decide to become a Mandalorian. Do I have to get married in three years?"

"No." The word carried with it a finality that made Verin chuckle. Aric Jorgan stood in the doorway, his disapproving gaze sweeping the room. Fynta snickered into her beer and slid lower in the chair while Shillet blinked with a confusion that couldn't be faked.

Pushing himself off the couch, Verin rose to greet the brother he hadn't seen in nearly a decade. "Good to see you, again, vod."

Aric dropped his pack by the front door and shook Verin's hand. "Heard you'd arrived. Figured it'd take you longer to start converting my kid, though."

Verin gripped the Cathar's shoulder, carefully looking past the eyepatch. There was more white around the man's mouth than Verin remembered, and a ragged hunch to his shoulders that Verin understood all too well. Still, he painted on a wide smile and pretended to see none of it. "Shab, Aric. You're looking good for an old guy."

The Cathar flashed sharp teeth and patted Verin's arm. "And, you've gotten grey. How's being a father treating you?"

"Best feeling in the world." Verin stepped away from the Cathar so that he could greet Fynta and reclaimed his seat on the sofa. "But, I don't have to tell you that."

Aric kissed his daughter on the head, then shared a brief look with Fynta that Verin recognized. Something in the meeting hadn't gone as expected, and he needed to fill her in. A thought occurred to him then, and Verin smacked Shillet's calf where it rested by his leg. "How would you like to meet Tranx and Zula? You can show me where the Jedi keep their prisoners...I mean students." The Nautolan's features brightened before she looked at Aric and Fynta. Verin saluted them with his beer. "If that's alright with your folks."

"Fine with me," Fynta answered, then elbowed Aric when he took too long to agree.

The Cathar's expression could only be described as torn. Verin hoped the man had been joking earlier about converting his daughter. He wouldn't go against the wishes of any parent so long as they had their child's best interests in mind. They didn't have to align with his beliefs, only that the child wasn't being mistreated.

"Fine." Aric breathed the word, making it sound almost painful. He leaned a hip against the chair Fynta sat in and accepted Shillet's exuberant embrace when she leaped off the sofa. "Go get your coat."

While the Nautolan rushed into a curtained space that Verin assumed was her room, he stood and stretched. "Don't worry, I'll have her home by dinner. Only minor brawls, nothing serious."

Aric's scowl deepened, but it was Fynta who answered. "Better make sure she keeps her holo on, just in case." Verin nodded, hiding his amusement again. There was little doubt who the device would comfort.

Shillet appeared a moment later, hands wrapped in gloves with a sturdy jacket slung over her shoulder. She paused by Aric to kiss his cheek and bumped fists with Fynta before bounding up to Verin. "I'm ready."

As Verin turned towards the door, Aric cleared his throat. "You're not taking that, are you?"

Verin followed the Cathar's gaze to the beer bottle, still full, dangling from his fingers. With a dramatic sigh, he tossed it into the bin next to the door, quietly lamenting its loss. "Come on, kid," Verin laughed as they exited the room. "Let's go have some fun."