They were on their way back to the landing zone, where his people had dug in their heels after most of the Kordans had broken and run, when Jaster admitted defeat. There was little he could think of to get his people to accept the Jetii's presence. While Jaster hadn't had much of an issue with them, more bothered by their lack of doing anything useful in the galaxy as opposed to having a negative encounter with one, a few of his verde had stories about meeting jetiise that had taken a turn for the worse. Looking over at the man, grasping at any detail he could to make this easier on himself, he blinked when something finally clicked.

"Your hair…" He said before he could stop himself. The Jetii glanced at him, obviously having heard him speak. Jaster cleared his throat, mind racing as he clung to another small tidbit he hadn't consciously focused on earlier. "Your last name is Kenobi. Am I wrong to assume your first name is Obi-wan? That you're a Stewjoni'ad?" Red hair and blue eyes, pale skin, and his name. He didn't like trying to force information out of his savior, but he needed more to get his people to agree with the Jetii's presence.

"I… yes. Although I would prefer to be called Ben." Jaster nodded in understanding, glad just to have his suspicions confirmed. "How did you know?" He seemed almost disturbed, wary, and Jaster held up a hand in a placating gesture.

"Stewjoni'ade and Mando'ade have a long history of working together, being allies." He hesitated, not sure if the information he was about to give would cause the Jetii more distress. "Obi-wan Kenobi, in Mando'a, roughly translates to 'Nameless Boy of No Clan. It's what they call lost children who cannot speak, or are too young to give their name. A placeholder until someone can either claim the child or adopt them, giving them a name." A pained look crossed the man's face and he turned away, making Jaster feel like a di'kut for opening his damned mouth.

"Thank you for telling me. I had always wondered what my name meant but I was unable to reconnect with my birth people. They are very insular and are not a fan of the Jetiise." He let out a small sigh. "The Jetiise were practically all I had known since I was a baby. I was given over to the temple at only six months old, with no explanation." Jaster felt his chest tighten slightly. To be abandoned at such a young age… it wasn't right. Someone should have taken him in immediately, not hand him off to the Jetiise.

"That's… odd." The man looked back at him, eyes alight with curiosity and motioned him to continue when Jaster paused. "Both Stewjoni'ade and Mando'ade would have adopted you immediately if you had lost your clan." Anyone able bodied and of adult age would have jumped to adopt a child, especially a baby. The fact that he had been handed over to the Jetiise suggested that something terrible had happened to his original clan.

"It doesn't matter. I am just Ben now." There was a moment of quiet between them before the man spoke again. "Why?" Jaster had to stop himself from reaching up and touching the back of his neck, a nervous habit whenever he was out of armor and a dead giveaway that he was flustered.

"Explaining your presence to the Haat'ade and convincing them you're with us is going to take some work." He said truthfully before tacking on, "but I told you that you could come with us and I meant it. I try never to swear oaths or make promises I can't keep." The man smiled at him.

"You are a man of honor, Mand'alor. If you need me to surrender my weapons and use something to inhibit my ability to touch the force so that your people feel safe, I will submit myself to your mercy." Jaster was surprised at the open trust he was being shown. Nobody gave up their weapons just like that and yet the Jetii, Ben he reminded himself, had done just that.

"I don't think that will be necessary." Ben made a humming sound, not quite convinced. "You're a Stewjoni'ad, a Kenobi. That means you could be related to any number of clans through blood or marriage both. And while Mando'ade don't often care about blood when it comes to family it will mean you have a connection to us." Jaster turned to look at him fully. "It helps that you speak Mando'a." That at least should give everyone enough pause for Jaster to speak.

Changing gears he grinned. "And what is this?" He asked, rapping his leather covered knuckles against the poor excuse for a chest plate. "Pretty shoddy, vod. Does it actually protect anything?"

"Well there wasn't much choice, Sir. The Jetiise don't exactly have a proper smith I can go to, or any beskar to craft it from. Even then, I wouldn't sully beskar'gam by wearing it. I have absolutely no right without swearing the Resol'nare." Jaster couldn't help thinking that Ben had more of a right to it than Tor Vizla or Montross. Resol'nare or no.

"We'll see what we've got for you. There's always extra pieces of durasteel plate lying around in case someone's armor gets lost or damaged." Ben nodded, making a noncommittal sound. Head swiveling to look ahead of them suddenly his eyes narrowed, sharp as a blade.

"Enemies ahead of us." Jaster grasped his blaster tighter in his hand and signed at Silas. Ben frowned at him and shook his head, clearly not understanding. He knew Mando'a but not jor'gaan. That would have to be one of the first things Ben learned.

"How far ahead can you scout with your Jetii magic?" The man twitched at the word 'magic' but otherwise his face had gone carefully blank.

"I can sense life forces, I can tell you how many and roughly where they are. Seven, and fanned out ahead of us in a semi-circle, by the way." There was a slight upward turn at the corners of Ben's mouth as he spoke. It wasn't quite sass, and not quite insubordination, but it was something. Something that was very distracting and should be thought about later when they were out of danger.

"Silas, watch over my son. We'll handle this." Ben looked at him in surprise but didn't question him. They split up, deciding to take three enemies each and whoever was finished first could get the last straggler.

The last of Vizla's troops didn't give him any trouble. Too overconfident, believing in all the lies Vizla had fed them about what made a Mando'ad strong. He was surprised to find Ben with one arm around the last man's throat, hissing something too low for jaster to pick out. The man went limp and Ben looked relieved as he dropped him to the ground. Jaster only had one question; "by hand? Why not use your jetii'kad?" Ben ran his fingers through his hair, sweeping the red strands back and out of his face.

"If I used my jetii'kad then anyone who came upon the bodies would know it was the work of a jetii. This way they don't realize I'm with you." Concealing his presence, making himself a hidden weapon for the Mando'ade.

"Good thinking. Let's head back." He turned his back to the man, trusting him.

"After you, Sir." Came the polite reply, his voice verging on irreverent but clearly amused. Jaster's grip on his blaster tightened in response.

When they finally made it back to camp Jango was still unconscious. He directed the lad to set Jango up in one of the medical cots to get looked at by a medic and headed for the center of camp.

As people spotted him the mood of the entire camp changed. From grief stricken and tense, to joyful and relieved the moment he came into view, to enraged a moment later. Jaster had no idea what was going on but he guessed it had to do with the Jetii walking one step behind him and to his left. Which… huh. Did the Jetiise receive military training or was it something unique to Ben?

Word of his arrival must have reached the entire camp and he could feel the low burning heat of his people's anger, their need for vengeance. Before he could figure out what was wrong he heard blaster being fired further into camp. Jaster ran flat out toward the sound, Ben right on his heels.

What they came upon was a flurry of activity as medics helped lower the wounded to the ground and two verde held Montross to the ground, blasters aimed at his vitals as the man struggled. "What happened here!?" Jaster bellowed, his eyes narrowing at the dar'manda coward.

" Alor. He told us you and Jango were dead and suggested he become the new Mand'alor. But many of the verde were backing Myles for the position. When we learned you weren't dead he tried to flee, shooting the nearby verde." Jaster's blood boiled and he stormed over to where they were keeping the man down. Pulling out his blaster he set it against the back of Montross's head. He could see Ben out of his peripheral and briefly wondered if what he was about to do would turn the Jetii against him.

"Montross, not only did you leave me to die at Tor Vizla's hand, flying off like a coward," he practically spat the word, "you were the one who got us the information for this job to begin with. This was a damned setup, wasn't it?" The man scoffed and writhed on the ground. "What was it you said to me? 'I'm through taking your orders. But I'll take good care of the troops?'"

"Tor understood strength! He wasn't weak like you, taking in some bastard child and declaring him the next Mand'alor! Now look at you, coming into camp with a Jetii! You're weak, Mereel. You're going to get them all killed!" The word was a sharp hiss filled with enough vitriol that Jaster could practically feel it.

"Tor understood nothing about what it means to be Mando'ade." He stated firmly, fingers tightening around the grip of his blaster. "Montross, you turned your back on your Mand'alor, leaving him on the battlefield to die. Tried to get his son and heir killed. And worst of all; betrayed your people. Leading them into an ambush. There is only one sentence fitting for your crimes." Without another word he pulled the trigger and Montross was dead. There didn't need to be a trial, or any discussion, and the Mando'ade didn't need a jury. Montross' guilt was plain for all to see.

Slipping his blaster back into the holster he motioned for the two guards to take away Montross' corpse. Turning he looked over at Ben and his mind went to all the issues that came with letting a jetii into their camp. He decided to try and side step the issue and bellow out; "I want everyone to rest up and then start packing, we're leaving as soon as the repairs are finished."

Walking over to stand near Ben he waited for someone to comment, ask a question, anything. Instead there was a low level of unease and anger around him as his verde kept glancing over at the Jetii. The redhead wasn't any help, either. He was standing there a little stiffly, trying and failing to pretend that the stares of the mando'ade weren't making him nervous. Jaster wanted to say something, to comfort him and reiterate his promise for a safe haven, but he couldn't with so many of his verde around.

Thank the Manda for Myles.

"Alor, we haven't heard from Jango's group." Jaster could hear the worry in his voice and reached over to give his shoulder a heavy pat of reassurance.

"Silas has Jango, my kid overdid it and ended up passing out. They'll both be in medical." Hearing this news about his son a ot of the nearby verde relaxed slightly. Jango didn't realize it yet but he was more than accepted by the mando'ade as Jaster's replacement. When the boy applied himself he was the epitome of a warrior, the kind of person all mando'ade could look up to. All he was really lacking was age and experience. Ben's words earlier about Jango becoming Mand'alor when Jaster died on this muddy shithole came back to him and he felt a sliver of relief. He was alive, Jango wouldn't have to deal with losing his only parent, his leader, and the stress of becoming the new leader all at once. It was a blessing from the Manda.

"Who is this, Sir? Why the hell is there a jetii on this nowhere planet, and why did he follow you home?" Ben snorted in amusement and Myles stopped speaking, turning slightly to regard the man standing next to Jaster like he belonged there.

"Right. The jetii is Ben Kenobi. He saved my life when Montross left me to die." He let his voice carry as he spoke, wanting the mando'ade to 'overhear' him speaking. "Tor Vizla is dead, killed by the jetii's blade in a duel. He has the Dha'kad'au to prove it." Myles' bucket wasn't the only one to swivel toward the man's belt in surprise, Jaster felt their interest and curiosity spike. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. "He also speaks Mando'a, so don't try anything cute."

Myles let out an exasperated sound and slipped off his helmet, dark gray eyes in a tawny face giving him an almost severe appearance. The effect was a little ruined by the laugh lines around his mouth and the dark hair that had fallen into his face. He needed a haircut. "As far as explanations go, that's pretty straight forward. Hello, Ben Kenobi, thanks for keeping our Alor in one piece." Jaster relaxed, believing the interrogation was over. "So how the hell did you get here and where were you hiding?" But no, no such luck. This was Myles, not Montross and… oh hell. He was going to have to promote Myles and let him in on all the big secrets. As Jaster's new second in command he would need that information.

Ben winced slightly, shifting his weight subtly as if nervous. "Actually I crashed here. Unfortunately my transport is entirely useless. Not even worth it to go looking for the scrap." He sighed. "If it wasn't for my ability to use the force I would be dead at the bottom of a canyon right now. Currently I'm not even at my usual fighting power, I think twisted my leg during the crash." Jaster frowned. Had Ben been injured this entire time? What the hell was wrong with him! Why didn't he say anything?

"You did all that while injured? Why didn't you say anything?" Ben gave him a charming smile but Jaster could see the slight flush of embarrassment on his cheeks.

"Yes? I mean, it's mostly been healed with the force by now. No need to fuss." Myles' focus darted between them for a moment before he caught Jaster's eye and a slight twitch of his lips made the mand'alor scowl. Myles' eyes filled with mirth before something clicked and he turned to eye Ben from head to toe and back.

"Wait, Kenobi? As in Obi-wan Kenobi? You're a Stewjoni'ad?" Myles was so quick on the uptake. Why had he ever promoted Montross over him?

"Ah, yes. Exactly right. But as I told our Alor, I prefer to be called Ben and will answer to such." Jaster did a mental double take and had to fight to keep the grin off his face. Our. Ben had said 'our' Alor. He was already thinking of himself as one of them. Ben sighed. "Would you believe me if I said that I am about to renounce my faith and currently have nowhere else to go?" Jaster felt the spike of confusion and interest from the verde. It was so strong that it threatened to swamp him completely.

"Renounce your faith?" Myles asked slowly, as if making sure he'd heard correctly. Ben nodded slowly in confirmation.

"The Jetiise are a religious order, and I am unsure why everyone seems to forget that they are Monks. They swear vows when they are old enough to understand. Swearing not to influence politics, swearing never to rule over other sentients, and swearing to devote themselves wholly to their teachings and duty. They may not marry or have families, they may not put themselves or those they care about above their duty. But it goes deeper than that." Jaster wasn't sure what it was. If it was the way Obi-wan spoke their language in his accented voice or if it was how Obi-wan moved, eyes expressing his emotions freely. But every single verde within hearing range had stopped to listen to him speak with rapt attention. "They are also taught to let all of their emotions go. They are discouraged from holding on to anger or grief, for using those emotions to draw on the force can pull you toward the dark." Ben closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "But those are all a part of their religion. There are numerous force sects out in the galaxy that have survived as long as, if not longer than, the Jetiise."

"So… you are choosing to renounce your faith, to leave the Jetiise?" The man's eyes hardened and he nodded.

"They are on a dangerous path right now and I cannot, in good conscience, follow them down that path." Jaster felt as if something had slithered down his spine.

"Will there be repercussions if you leave?" While Jaster would still like to help him he couldn't ask his verde to put their families in danger without knowing exactly what they were getting into.

"Oh, no. Anyone is free to leave the order, I've done it once already under… interesting circumstances." He chuckled but it lacked the warmth of humor or amusement. It sounded almost pained and Jaster was growing more worried by the second. "It isn't considered a punishable offense to leave the order, although they prefer one to turn in their weapon when they go as jetii'kade can be quite devastating in the wrong hands." Considering the Dha'kad'au on his belt- no kidding. "It isn't uncommon for an Initiate, someone approaching their teens, to request a transfer to one of the service corps or to be given the choice of a new life outside the order. It is more uncommon for Knights and very rare of the few Masters of the order to leave." Myles' head tilted slightly.

"And what… rank are you?" Just like that the amusement was back, along with a teasing smile that was doing things to Jaster's poor heart.

"Master. I raised my student to the rank of Knight. He is young to be a Knight, only nineteen. But he even has his own student now…" He seemed lost in thought for a moment before sighing. "Had… I mean he had his own student." Cold stabbed through his chest and seeped between the cracks.

"Aren't… aren't Jetiise raised by their teacher?" He asked, trying to keep the emotion out of his voice. He had a sneaking suspicion and didn't like it one bit.

"They are. I had that boy from the age of nine until the age of nineteen. Ten years picking up clothes, reminding him not to miss class, teaching him to wield a jetii'kad, and stepping on all manner of machine parts. He was my gotab'ika." That all but confirmed it. Ben had a child, a son. A son who was, if he was reading everything right, now dead. He and Ben's… grandchild would probably be the closest equivalent.

"I…" even Myles looked shocked by how much emotion, how much raw pain, the jetii was giving off. "They are not gone, merely marching far away." Ben sucked in a breath, his eyes looking oddly wet.

"I, yes. They are one with the force now." He shook his head as if to clear it. "But that is in the past now. However, I cannot stay with the Jetiise. As much as I love them, they were my family, I cannot be among the ones who helped to kill my… my child." Dammitall, he wasn't going to even need to convince anyone of anything was he? Just taking in the expressions on uncovered faces and the body language of his fully armored verde he could already tell- they were keeping him.

"Well, since we have an extra space now it will be easy to find you a bunk on my ship." Jaster said with a gentle smile. "Especially since Myles has just been promoted and will be moving out of his old room." Myles looked at him, wide-eyed, before a look of annoyance came over his face.

"I guess I'll have to clear out my things then." He grumbled. Jaster chuckled. After the absolute shit show that had been this contract he was glad to see things were going his way. Finally looking up.

"Alor! Jango's awake but there's something wrong! We need you in medical, now!" Jaster paled.

Spoke too soon.

Mando'a;

Verd/e-Soldier, Soldiers plural.
Di'kut- Idiot
Alor- Leader.
Beskar/Beskar'gam- Mandalorian Iron, Mandalorian Armor.
Jor'gaan- My own word for 'Sign language.' Meaning 'Speaking hand.'
Jetii'kad- Lightsaber.
Gotab'ika- Little engineer.

AN: Obi-wan Kenobi is the Stewjoni version of John Doe. lol