The blue oceans of Manaan faded into the deep blue of hyperspace. It was a welcome sight. I don't think I'll go near fish ever again. Or politicians. Or courts. Or…well, knowing my luck, it wouldn't take long before I run into all three at once.

Bastila shot out of the co-pilot's chair immediately—she hadn't looked at Carth ever since the incident this morning. In fact, she hadn't said a word to any of the crew members as they filed in. The pilot let out a long sigh as he twisted around in his seat. I watched Bastila leave with a frown.

Carth's stare lasted for longer than a minute. I raised my brow.

"What?"

"Were you careful?" he asked.

I tilted my head. "Careful?"

"Do I…do I really have to say it?" Carth leaned forward. "Were. You. Careful."

My face grew hot from embarrassment. Because we weren't exactly. Careful. Everything happened so fast that… I looked out into hyperspace.

"It'll be fine."

"Fine? Force, Wes!" Carth shook his head then rubbed his face. "How do you…you could get her kriffing pregnant. You do realize that's how it works, right?"

"Of course I know how it works, Carth. It's just…I…" I stopped breathing. My face set in horror. "We weren't thinking."

"No. You weren't thinking." Carth pointed at me with a glare. "You should know better. You have more experience and this affects her more. She's been a Jedi for most of her life. How could you possibly be so fucking irresponsible?"

"I…I know."

"Do you? Do you really?"

I sighed. "It's…it's a little too late now."

"Oh, so you'll excuse it away then? Like you do with everything?"

"Of course not!" I shot out of my seat. Anger rose in my face. "And I've had enough of this."

"No." He grabbed my shoulder and pulled me back. "You need to hear this. Obviously. How are you so Force-damn dense when it comes to these things?"

I looked off to the side. "Well, I'm not a genius at everything."

"I guess I need to spell it out for you then." Carth crossed his arms. "This isn't the time to stop thinking. Pregnancy isn't something Bastila needs to deal with in the middle of a war. If she gets pregnant what would happen to the child? You're both Jedi. If you care about her, you'll be careful from now on." He raised his brows. "Alright?"

Oh, Force. What have I done? He was right. Panic caused my heart rate to spike. My legs felt weak and I collapsed into the chair again. I rubbed my face, trying to calm my terror so that Bastila didn't sense it. Force, he was right. I should have known better too. Why didn't we stop? Why did we…?

It was the only way to make the pain stop.

But that was no excuse.

I heard Carth sigh above me. "Hopefully you're right and it'll be fine. But if the worst does happen…" I stopped rubbing my face and looked at him. Scared of the threat he was going to pronounce. Only, instead, he'd bent down so that we were eye-level. "I'll be there to help you. Promise."

I blinked.

"Help?"

"Yeah. Even if you both are reckless idiots, that only means you need all the help you can get."

My nerves dialed down. "How could you help, exactly?"

"Well, I have experience. You know—had a son? Planned, of course, because we weren't reckless idiots." His eyes became sad. "I barely saw him, you know? Dustil. I joined the navy when he was five. With all of the wars, he was a stranger to me the few months I had of shore leave. He would be…sixteen now. Force, I…I always wanted to be there for him. Sometimes, I feel like I failed as a father."

I looked back down at my hands. To be honest, I never wanted to be a parent. For that reason, I was always careful. A smuggler's life wasn't something I wanted to force onto a child. Oh, that and I would be a terrible father. I'm sure Bastila never considered it either. Jedi couldn't have children. If they had an accident and they wanted to stay in the Order, they had their children taken away from them. Though, if we were no longer Jedi after the war…

No. Even then, we weren't ready for that. Carth was right. We could not be parents. We only just figured out what we were to each other. A family? That seemed to be a bit…too much to take in all at once. I didn't want Bastila to die of stress. She was stressed enough as is. So, for her sake, I would not stop thinking again.

For Carth, though, at least he had a chance to get some of his family back.

I smiled and patted his shoulder. "Oh, well, that's fine. You'll get to know Dustil again, I'm sure. Once he's been rescued."

He flinched.

"W-What? Rescued?"

"Dustil's alive." I nodded to T3 who beeped. "He's alive and he…can use the Force. We found records in the Sith's base in Ahto City. Darth Revan was collecting Force sensitive children to turn them to the dark side. T3 has—"

Carth shot up straight and marched over to T3. He bent down and messed with some of the droid's controls, hooking him up to the ship's computer.

"Where?"

He believed me instantly. That was a nice change of pace.

I stood. "I…I don't—"

His voice boomed at T3. "Where did the Sith take my son?"

The poor droid shuddered at Carth's intensity. He flipped through the records then his body became taut. I sensed…hatred. Boiling from the pilot. I almost didn't react when he stormed out of the cockpit into the depths of the ship.

Oh. Right. Verena would know, wouldn't she?

I followed the pilot to make sure he didn't kill the Echani. He stormed into the main hold, then to the garage, then, when we couldn't find her there, we made for the engine room. Her usual hangout.

Carth didn't even knock. He waved the door open and barged in. Verena was leaning against the wall talking to Canderous who was half-naked and beating at the sand dummy. They both stopped when Carth grabbed Verena by the collar and lifted her up. She'd been taken off guard, so she didn't react as quickly as usual.

"Where is my son!"

Canderous laughed. "What now—?"

"Shut up, Canderous!" Carth spat his word over his shoulder then shook Verena. "You said you wanted to redeem yourself? Well, congratulations, you can start now! Tell me where Dustil is or I will throw you into the airlock."

Verena's cocked a white brow. "Dustil?"

"Oh, of course! Of course, you don't even remember his name!" Carth laughed without humor then shoved her into the wall again. "My son. Dustil. The boy you kidnapped from Telos. Where did you take him?"

Her silver eyes didn't move as she watched the Republic pilot. Then, she shook her head.

"There were many Force sensitives on Telos so I apologize for not having the best memory."

"Oh, but you're not apologizing for kidnapping him in the first place?"

Verena looked away. "I already told you, Onasi. I regret what I had to do and I wish I would have stopped before it got out of hand. But I will help rescue your son if only to prove that to you. If…there is anything left to rescue."

Carth's fists were red. "What the hell does that mean?"

"He's on Korriban at the Sith Academy. Training to be a dark Jedi." She stared off, appearing almost disturbed. "Many students don't last though. I wouldn't get your hopes up."

Carth lowered her to the ground. Face pale.

"They're turning my son into a Sith?"

"As I said," Verena dusted her tunic off, "many students don't last."

Carth rubbed a hand through his hair. He leaned against the wall and acted as if he was mourning again.

"My son would never join the Sith. He would fight—"

"If he fought, then he would be dead."

"Better dead than a Sith."

We all stared at Carth in shock.

"You…" My voice cracked. "You don't mean that, really?"

And I thought this news would have given him some hope.

"I don't know, Wes, what would you want to happen to your son?" He met my gaze. "Would you rather he died the innocent boy he was…or live to become a monster?" I stared at him for a long time, trying to imagine. It was hard to, really. Hard to imagine having to wish for one over the other. On the one hand, I wouldn't want my child to die. On the other, becoming a Sith was practically a death sentence anyway. Carth stepped away from Verena while shaking his head. "Dustil is dead. I thought Saul killed him. But no, it was you and Darth Revan. I should kill you for that."

Verena kneeled down and bowed her head.

"A life for a life then. If I cannot redeem myself…there is no point in living."

We watched her in shocked silence. Until Carth yanked his pistol out of his holster. Canderous grabbed his shoulder. For once, his face was serious.

"This is getting a bit ridiculous, don't you think?" the Mandalorian said. "The Echani was following orders. She couldn't ignore them, flyboy."

Carth shook the Mando away. "Yes, she could have. Just like Saul could have."

He raised the blaster, aiming at the Echani's head. I placed a hand on my lightsaber instinctively. Prepared to deflect the bolt.

"Don't." Verena raised her head and met my gaze. "I know what you want to do, Jedi. Don't."

"But—"

"Do not dishonor me, Wes Gale. This is what I deserve, after all."

No. It couldn't be. Yet, at the same time, I didn't want to go against her wishes. I released my grip on my lightsaber and looked at Carth. Pleading. Sure, Verena more than likely caused his son's death, but killing her would only make things worse. In fact, someone else would have done it if Verena wasn't in the picture.

Carth stood there with his blaster raised. Aimed to shoot the Echani in the face. I thought he would have already taken the shot. He said himself he wouldn't hesitate if he faced Saul Karath. Only…only he was hesitating.

Sweat dripped from the pilot's forehead. Verena stared up into Carth's eyes.

"Do it."

Carth lowered his pistol and staggered back, taking deep breaths. The tension left the room as the pistol clattered to the ground.

"I…" He shook. "I need…some time to think."

He rushed out without another mumbled word. Canderous sighed then offered his hand to Verena. She didn't take it. Instead, she stared out after the pilot.

"You okay there?" he asked.

She lowered her head.

"As I thought. He couldn't do it."

"Well, yeah, I knew that. Flyboy's a coward. You didn't need to prove it."

"I'm glad he didn't do it," I said. "What the hell were you thinking pulling a stunt like that?"

"There is an Echani saying." Verena took Canderous' hand and pulled herself to her feet. "A warrior who betrays his nature betrays himself. Onasi didn't want to sacrifice his morality by killing a defenseless, nonaggressive opponent. To the Echani, what Onasi did was in fact honorable. He did not betray his nature because he did not wish to betray himself."

Canderous snorted. "You Echani have a strange definition of 'honor.'"

"Well, there is another saying."

I raised a brow. "What?"

Her eyes gleamed. "Words mean nothing if spoken with wind."

Lunch had been eventful, to say the least.

Mission sat on one of the tables, talking to Juhani about something that happened in Taris. It was strange that the Cathar was letting the Twi'lek talk about her homeworld so frankly, yet maybe…she'd grown some perspective on the matter. The two were so deep in their conversation about swoop races that I didn't want to interrupt them. So, I went to the synthesizer then started up the machine…

Then I stopped it when I remembered that it hadn't been cleaned since we started the mission.

After grabbing some gloves and rolling up my sleeves, I opened up the machine and peered into the depths. Yup. It needed to be cleaned alright. Gunk of multiple food types clogged the inner workings. And I thought droids could get nasty after a while without maintenance. Juhani and Mission offered to help, only the synthesizer was too small for multiple people to work on cleaning it.

Bastila walked in when Juhani and Mission left to "play games on the holo." I froze as we caught each other's eye. She tilted her head with a smirk.

"Oh?" She walked up to me then crossed her arms. "You're actually cleaning the synthesizer."

I narrowed my eyes with a sponge in hand.

"Yes?"

"I thought you wouldn't on account of me being a 'slave driver.'"

"Well, I'll happily be your slave, sunshine."

I winked. Bastila's face grew red.

"You…"

"Yes?" I stopped scrubbing the distiller. "Got something you want to say?"

"Actually…" She hesitated. "I came in here to clean it."

I stopped and once again raised a brow.

"Oh?"

"But you're doing it now, so—"

"Okay!" I took off one of my gloves and threw it at her. She caught it before it slammed into her face. "I already cleaned half, so it's fair if you clean the rest."

She blinked at me. Frustration tinged the bond.

"I—! You—! No, that isn't—!"

"Hmm?" I placed the other glove on the counter then put the dirty sponge on top of it. "What's that?"

Bastila's face was red hot, not from blushing, from her frustration.

"Fine!"

She picked up the gloves, put them on, and jumped onto the counter. She bent over and started to scrub at the synthesizer. Hard.

I winced. "Not too hard. You're going to break something." Of course, she didn't listen to me. I sighed then jumped onto the counter beside her. "Have you cleaned anything before?"

She stopped scrubbing then glanced back at me with a glare.

"Of course I have!"

I looked over her shoulder into the synthesizer and noticed she'd just been spreading dirt around.

"Yeah…well, you're doing it wrong."

She was not amused.

"Wrong? You of all people are telling me I'm cleaning wrong?"

"Yes. Look, you gotta…"

I placed my hand over hers and moved it over to the bucket of sudsy water between us. I dumped our hands in with the sponge then lifted it out of the water to squeeze. Her face was beaming red now out of embarrassment as the dirty water dripped from the sponge to the bucket. Or maybe it was red because she recalled what she did last night when I helped her squeeze—

I let go of her hand. Warmth spread in my body. Her chest heaved as she glanced down at my lips.

"I…" Her eyes flickered from my lips to the counter to the sponge. "I…you…"

"Hmm?"

Our faces were close. Very close. I brushed my dry hand over her jaw then pressed her face into a kiss. She pulled away immediately then turned around and started scrubbing the machinery. My hand froze in the air after the rejection and I dropped it as I felt a spike of terror clawing at her chest.

"Bastila?"

She stopped and her shoulders tensed.

"What?"

"Do you…regret…"

…last night?

I finished my sentence over the bond. Bastila once again turned around. Her eyes had become soft.

"No, I…" She avoided looking me in the face. "Perhaps. A little." Finally, she looked at me. "But not because I didn't like it or…that it was… I just…I've never felt so—"

"Vulnerable."

She frowned. "No. I've felt vulnerable before, but I've never wanted to be." She dipped the sponge in the water and squeezed out the dirt. "You have to understand, as Jedi, we are in a precarious situation. We need to keep ourselves in control. But with you, I feel like I don't have to be. And that…scares me."

I laughed. "So, you're afraid of love? Ooo, spooky." She narrowed her eyes. I sat back against the wall with a sigh. "Why do we need to be in control anyway? As long as we don't hurt anyone, what's the problem?"

Bastila stopped again. Then, finally, she sat back and leaned against the wall with me.

"That's the thing. I am hurting someone. I'm hurting..." Her face scrunched. Not like a kinrath-pup. Like she smelled the inside of the synthesizer. "I'm hurting you."

"How?" I waved a hand. "How are you hurting me, Bastila."

"I…" Her lips shivered and her eyes grew wet. A tear fell down her cheek. "I don't know."

I stared at her, absolutely flabbergasted at the very real terror I felt from her that she was outright denying. So much so, tears built up in my own eyes as I felt her pain. I felt deranged. Was I going insane? Or was she going insane? Not that it mattered who had the original insanity, I didn't want her to feel distraught about it anymore. So, it was time to distract her. I grabbed her hand then let my forehead touch hers as I leaned forward.

"Fine. You're hurting me. I forgive you. Alright?" I wiped her tear away with a smile. "How about tonight we forget about it in the cargo hold…" I whispered in her ear as I weaved her fingers in mine. "We could go behind one of the screens, and if we're quiet—"

She took her hand out of mine then she twisted around to clean the synthesizer again. I took that as the rejection that it was and pushed myself off the counter—no longer hungry. Like everything with her, I needed to be patient. If she was afraid of "hurting me," then I'd wait until she felt more comfortable with doing that.

I only wanted her to be happy, after all.

HK-47 groaned as I started to hook on the other half of his arm. He'd been complaining nonstop about "lacking feeling" in the left half of his body. I told him he was a drama queen and had to suffer, once again, through his complaints.

Why, exactly, was I suffering through this torture? Maybe it was because I was trying to distract myself, once again, from this mess with Bastila. Why couldn't she understand? I was missing something…a piece of the puzzle like I had during Sunry's trial. Only, what? What was I missing?

After I connected the arm, I didn't bother with the hand and wrist joint. I'd had enough. Even repairing HK wasn't enough to distract me from this.

I laid down on the grimy garage floor with a long sigh. This whole thing was stressing me out. Massively. So, I stood and shut HK down with a command. I shuffled into the main hold and sat on the bench. Then, I leaned back and went to think. To remember. A smile drifted onto my face as I thought back to last night. I closed my eyes and remembered our passion. Memories of when I touched her…spread her legs apart…kissed down her body…I pushed in, felt her wet—

Bastila's core flared. She gasped.

Wes! N-Not—stop! I'm practicing with Juhani!

I stopped daydreaming and shot upright. Oh, kriff. The bond.

Sorry!

That's… She cooled. Please don't do that.

Of course—didn't mean it, honest!

Her mind wavered. Alright. I know. Just be more careful with your…thoughts.

Guess even recalling our night together wasn't an option to relieve this stress. That would be my luck.

A lithe form collided with the bench next to me.

"Ah..." Jolee sighed as he leaned back. "Looking flushed there. Fever?"

"W-Wha—?" I crossed my legs quickly. "Yes. No. I'm fine."

"Uh-huh…" He rubbed his white goatee as he looked me up and down. "So, where did you head off to last night?"

"Huh?"

"Where did you take the young Bastila?"

My face tightened. "How is that your business?"

"Oh, well, you see—I knocked on your door last night. The only answer I got was from that terrible droid you keep around. Called me a decaying meatbag! Hmph! You were with the lady last I saw you, so I knocked on her door to ask. Nothing. So I was rather worried!"

My breath froze. "Y-You—" Anger caused more heat to grow on my face. "Do I have even a shred of privacy when it comes to you?!"

He sat back, eyes wide in shock. "Hey now, I was only going to ask if you wanted to get some drinks at the cantina, kid." His forehead creased. "Though now I'm rather curious as to why you reacted so defensively to an innocent question."

Ugh. Why did I get myself into these situations?

"We were…going out. Okay?"

"Oh?" He smirked. "Out?"

I sighed. "Are you bored again?"

"I'm an old man. I live vicariously through you youngsters."

"Well, I took her to a Corellian bakery, alright?"

"A Corellian bakery?" Jolee frowned. "And?"

I flinched. "And…what?"

"That's it?"

"W-Was that not enough?"

He shot me a look.

"Kid…have you ever been on a date before?"

My face felt hot and I licked my lips. No. I hadn't. Actually. Plenty of one-night stands, yet I never sat down for a date before—at least from what I could remember. Maybe I did when I was drunk…but did that really count? For someone my age though it was embarrassing to admit, so I didn't dare admit it. Jolee crossed his arms then rubbed his lip with a "hum." I didn't need to admit anything to him, of course.

"You should ask for my advice next time. Women love it when you make dates an experience. Sure, sure, a bakery is fine for a start. But you want your time together to last. Maybe have a…a walk in a park underneath the stars. Or through an aquarium. A moonlit picnic. You need to do something romantic. Something she can remember."

I sighed, feelings of inadequacy caused my shoulders to tense.

"Force…I'm terrible."

Jolee chuckled then pat my shoulder. "Oh, don't be so hard on yourself. If she enjoys spending time with you, any date is an experience. One time, I took Nayama to a—" His lips froze in place as he stopped himself from continuing. Then, he sighed. "Well…that doesn't matter."

"No, no. I'd like to hear it."

He raised a brow. "Really? You want to hear one of my 'stupid stories?' Well, this is a first."

I smirked. "Well…okay, not all of your stories are stupid."

"It is a stupid story though. Before I…married my wife, I wasn't, well, experienced with dating either. My idiot brain figured, 'Oh! We like cantinas. Why not have a date at a cantina?' First, don't take a woman to a cantina on a date—that's where you pick up women. That wasn't what I did wrong though. The cantina I took her to happened to have Twi'lek strippers. I was mortified." He chuckled. "Nayama though…she laughed—teased me. She then threw credit chips at the stage and egged on the Twi'leks." He sighed. "Honestly, I think that's when I truly fell in love with her…"

I wanted to ask him more about what happened to…his wife. But I had a feeling he was going to shut me down again. So, instead, I asked him a question that had been on my mind for a while.

"You know, for someone who was a Jedi, you seem very open about being in love. Why? I thought that went against the code."

"What? No!" Jolee chuckled. "It's not against the code to fall in love. Before the war with Exar Kun, Jedi fell in love all the time. In fact, some were married with children. There were many other things the Council changed during my years of exile. For example, most of the young ones in my time knew their family. They could still see them if they wanted to. And most apprentices were initiated at a relatively young age but rarely from birth. Some were teenagers even when they became Padawans. Heh, I was."

"What?" I paused. Shocked. "But…but then why did the Council forbid all of that then?"

"Because…" He hesitated. "I can only guess, I wasn't there when the decisions were made, but I think I know why. See—Jedi Masters have a responsibility to their pupils. This responsibility is similar to parenthood in a way. If a student goes bad, they believe it's the one who 'raised' them that is to blame. And many, many Jedi went bad during the war with Exar Kun. Jedi your Masters cared so very much about. Attachments—ironically. So, after the war, the Jedi Council likely enacted policy after policy to prevent the same tragedy from happening again. Yet, there is only so much a parent can do to protect their child before it becomes…damaging.

"Yes, leaving your child unprotected without care is dangerous yet, at the same time, sequestering them away from all the evils in the world…denying them the warm feelings of love in the process…it's even more dangerous. After all, how could you possibly learn to control your emotions if you are taught to avoid them? How do you control your anger if nothing ever sends you into a rage? How could you learn to not be passionate if you don't even know what true love is like? You can't." Jolee shrugged. "Does that answer satisfy you?"

It did. And it explained a lot. During my training, the Jedi Masters said they took their time with me because they feared I'd make the same mistakes as Darth Revan and Malak. Only it wasn't fair of them to act like I'd already failed. And that was why I'd felt so…angry. Perhaps they acted the same way with Revan and Malak.

"Is that why the Sith fell to the dark side?" I asked. "Did Revan and Malak fall because the Jedi were too careful?"

Jolee leaned forward onto his knees and looked up at me with warm eyes.

"I don't know. What do you think, kid?"

I frowned. "I was asking you because you spoke to Revan. Wouldn't you know more?"

Jolee's smile stretched on his face, yet it quivered as if it took an effort to keep that expression.

"No. No, in fact, I…I wouldn't." He looked back down at the floor, avoiding my gaze. "I don't know why he fell. I didn't ask. Couldn't."

I raised a brow. "Couldn't?"

"I could sense that he'd fallen to the dark side—the taint had consumed him. I don't think he…knew it though. I didn't tell him since he would have denied it like a stubborn uller. Understandable. After all, the Jedi Masters had given up on him after he joined the war against the Mandalorians. If I told him that he'd fallen…I would have just been another judgemental Master in his eyes. So, I said nothing." His shoulders sank. "But I was no different from those Jedi Masters, really. I'd given up on him too. I should have done something. Anything. I regret many things. And that…I regret letting that kid run away without letting him know that it was okay to ask for help. Maybe all of this wouldn't have happened if—"

"That's not true." I interrupted him before he went on that tangent. "It's not your fault. You couldn't have known. Revan's fall was on Revan. Not you."

He stopped and looked at me once again. "Nice of you to say, kid, but I knew. I knew and I did nothing to help him out of fear." He snorted, then whispered beneath his breath. "Well, I'm lucky enough to get a second chance. The Force must be with me. Ha."

I cocked a brow. "Second chance?"

Jolee had a worried look on his face before he shot up and jumped around the bench to shake my shoulders.

"I'd get some practice in before we arrive on Korriban, kid. It's not going to be easy, no sir!"

I opened my mouth to call out to him—to ask him what he meant—yet he'd rushed away just as quickly as he arrived.

I decided to take Jolee's advice. If there was one thing that could distract me, physical exertion would do it.

Sweat beaded down my forehead as I concentrated on the opponent before me. This time, I'd offered Canderous a fight and we squared off in the main hold with Mission and Gil as our spectators. Carth was still sulking in the cockpit, Juhani and Bastila had been meditating and practicing on their own, and Verena was in the engine room.

We held practice staffs in our hands. I twirled mine then held it in a defensive stance. We'd traded blows for at least an hour already, yet we hadn't broken a sweat until now. Canderous raised a brow.

"So, how many fighting styles do you know, pipsqueak?"

I shrugged. "Other than the occasional drunken fistfight? None besides whatever the Jedi taught me."

"Really?" He stabbed the staff onto the floor mat. "No way. Someone must have taught you to fight before that. You move like you've fought for years."

I paused in thought. "Well, my mentor taught me to punch and shoot with a blaster when I was thirteen to defend against boarding parties. So, I guess maybe that's it?"

Mission sighed in boredom while kicking her legs.

"I want to learn how to fight."

Canderous grinned. "Want to learn now?"

Mission's eyes glistened with excitement. I narrowed my eyes.

"Is that…a good idea?"

Canderous chuckled. "Mandalorians learn how to fight at the age of five. She's well past the age to learn."

Five? Right. Mandalorians had children. It was a strange concept, considering how warrior-like their culture was. Their children were probably equally terrifying.

Mission shot off the bench and threw off her jacket.

"What do I do?" She raised her blue fists. "Griff…" She cleared her throat. "I mean, my idiot brother said if anyone ever grabbed me, I was to poke 'em in the eye. They can't attack me if they're blind."

Canderous raised his scarred brow. "A Mandalorian can fight blind, kid."

"So, can a Jedi," I said.

Not that Jedi usually grabbed kids.

Mission pouted. "Well, I didn't say that advice was good." She raised her fists again. "What do I do, though? How do I learn how to fight like a Mandalorian?"

Canderous stood stalwart, looking the thin Twi'lek up and down.

"Mandalorians don't learn how to fight. We live for the fight. First, we learn survival. When I was a lad of five, my father made me run up the highest peak on our homeworld of Mandalore. For days and nights, I ran through the forests, set up camps, hunted, and braved the snowy peak. Many children died during the test of survival."

Mission frowned. "Wha—r-really? That sounds awful!"

"It was for the best." Canderous shrugged. "It weeded out the weak from the clan. Only those fit enough could truly be a Mandalorian."

I grimaced. You know, that really explained a lot about why Canderous complained about rescuing those children on Dantooine that one time. He probably could have fought off his attackers at their age and thought it was a waste.

"Okay…" Mission crossed her arms. "But there aren't any mountains, though."

"No, but there is another test. The test of discipline." Canderous began to pace. "As a Mandalorian, there are only a few rules to follow. Never run from a fight. Never back down from a challenge. Honor your clan. And never disobey Mandalore."

Mission nodded. "Uh-huh…"

"If you truly wish to fight like a Mandalorian…" Canderous grinned then passed the staff over. "Balance this on your hand for a day."

I frowned. "Canderous…"

"Gotcha!"

Mission grabbed the staff and let it rest in the palm of her hand. Horizontally. The Mandalorian chuckled while shaking his head.

"Oh, no, no. Not like that." He grabbed the staff then started to balance the end on his palm. "Do this for an entire day. That'll prove you have enough discipline to match a Mandalorian child of eight."

Mission grew a pale blue. She took the staff again and tried to balance it on her hand as Canderous demonstrated. Only for it to clatter onto the floor immediately.

"Ugh!" She snatched it off the ground. "I can do this!"

Canderous nodded. "Sure."

As Mission kept busy trying to keep the staff balanced, Canderous let out a long sigh and collapsed on the bench. I sat next to him and watched as the poor Twi'lek kept trying to keep the staff steady.

"She's going to try all day, you know that right?" I said.

"Yup." Canderous took a drink. "Sure is."

"Did you…really keep a staff balanced on your palm for a day when you were eight?"

He snorted. "No way."

"Then why—"

"She'll only fail if she gives up." He smirked. "That's another thing—Mandalorians never give up."

I leaned back. The staff clattered to the ground once again. My mind drifted…and I was brave enough to ask…

"Yet you gave up."

Canderous sighed. "Yes." He paused. "It's why I…am not sure if I truly am a Mandalorian anymore, pipsqueak. I told you already. The fight is over. The war was won by the Republic. Without a Mandalore, how could we call ourselves Mandalorians? And these crude attempts from my wife to 'find' the mask of Mandalore…it's hopeless. Revan destroyed it like he destroyed the Basilisk droids and ships. And we don't need a Mandalore. We need to survive first."

"Wouldn't unity help you survive though?" I asked.

Not like I wanted the Mandalorians to unite again.

"Not when unity is impossible." He shrugged. "Even though Revan was a Jedi, he knew us better than any opponent. He knew the significance of Mandalore's mask. He knew how much the Basilisk droids meant to us. And…he knew how much we cared about training the next generation."

I sat forward, ignoring the next clatter. "You mean…"

"Revan took our children."

"Your children?"

He nodded. "During the final battle, our children were fighting alongside us. The treaty Revan made us sign at Malachor forced us to hand them over."

Heat gathered in my chest. Anger.

"And you just let him do that? Why were children in battle in the first place? How is that even safe?"

"Mandalorian children aren't thin-skinned aruetii. Some killed Jedi before."

I narrowed my eyes. "That's no excuse."

"It's just our way—you wouldn't understand. And it wasn't like Revan killed them—I don't think. He probably sent them to the furthest reaches of the galaxy or…adopted them into his own army. In any case, it was a blow to both our numbers and to our morale. It's why we shouldn't bother with getting the stupid mask. War, death, destruction—that time is over. We need to focus on preserving the Mandalorian ways."

"Is that what you'll do after the war?" I asked. "Just…find other Mandalorians and survive?"

"I don't see what else there is to do, pipsqueak."

No. There really wasn't much else.

I pursed my lips and once again watched Mission. She had been balancing the staff for a while now. Her eyes had narrowed in deep concentration. Yet…I noticed it started to tip to the side. With a small smirk, I focused on the staff and made it freeze in place using the Force. Mission grinned as she righted herself. Canderous must have noticed since he shoved my shoulder.

"Stop. You aren't supposed to help her. That's cheating."

"Mandalorians don't fight fair."

I waited a moment before I turned to give Canderous a wide grin.

It was dinner time and Carth still hadn't shown up to the canteen. Verena was sitting in the corner, away from everyone else but Canderous who was talking her ear off. Juhani sat with me, appearing forlorn as she looked at her reflection in the sapphire of her necklace. Bastila stared off in thought. I considered sitting with her to talk about something other than what happened, but I was having trouble thinking of what to say. Then, equally worrying, Carth hadn't shown up yet. Orangy usually got over himself quickly after one of his outbursts. Yet, this time…

I eyed the Twi'lek liquor. Maybe it was time to get him drunk.

Bastila watched me as I walked up to the counters and swiped the bottle and two glasses. Worry filled the bond as I walked past—she was worried about me. Worried that I'd drink too much again. I stopped to give her a reassuring smile and shrug before I headed towards the cockpit.

Carth was in the pilot's seat, leaning back. Staring into the blues of hyperspace. With a long sigh, I ignored his flinching as I walked in with the bottle and glasses. Then, I sat on the console between the pilot and co-pilot seats and started filling one of the glasses.

I offered it to him.

"Drink?"

Carth groaned, rubbing his face. "Not now, Wes. Please." He shoved my leg. "And get off."

I ignored him. "Is that a yes?"

"No. I don't want a drink. Will you leave me alone now?"

"Huh. That's too bad." I took a drink. "Guess this bottle is for me then."

Carth looked up at me. Concern was written on his face.

"Please don't."

I took another drink.

"Don't what?"

"It was not fun babysitting you last time."

I raised a brow. "Maybe that's because you weren't drinking with me. Maybe."

"Wes."

"Carth." My face became serious. I set aside the glass after a long moment of silence. "Do you remember on Tatooine when you said that we had a lot in common?"

He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and I remember that you took great offense to the suggestion."

"Well, I was wrong." I sat back, staring off into the blues. "We do have a lot in common. I mean, both of our planets were wiped off the map. Our families were killed. The ones we trusted stabbed us in the backs. It's no wonder we became massive screw-ups."

Carth snorted. "Speak for yourself."

"And you're right. I'm not alone. Everyone here has my back. You have my back. I know it." I crossed my arms and looked down at the pilot. "And I have your back. You're not alone either. I promise."

He finally looked up at me and his stressed expression melted. Then, he eyed the bottle.

"Son of a bitch, fine." He held out his hand. "Pass me a glass."

I smiled and poured some of the green liquid into the spare. When I passed it over, Carth took a drink…then almost spit it out.

"Force…what the—how the hell do you drink this shit?!"

I poured more into my glass with a shrug.

"It's an acquired taste."

"An acquired taste? You are destroying your liver if you're drinking bottles of this stuff."

"Alright, alright," I smirked as I took another drink. "Mom."

"Mom! You—!"

The blue disintegrated into millions of stars and the entire ship shook to a halt. I'd been caught off guard so much that I didn't catch myself from falling off the console using the Force. The bottle of Twi'lek liquor and my glass shattered behind me.

"That is…"

Shell-shocked, Carth's voice felt distant. I stayed on the ground for a moment before pushing myself up onto my feet.

A dark, silver ship bent the light of the stars around its massive hull. A hull shaped like the mouth of a firaxan. An unknown planet in the distance eclipsed the ship in its shadow. The Sith. We'd…somehow been pulled into the outer edge of this system.

I took a step back in terror.

"Carth!" I jumped into the co-pilot's seat. "Make a jump out of here!" Yet, he didn't move. He only stared out at the ship. My heartbeat raced. "Hello? Galaxy to Carth!"

"We can't."

I laughed once. "What do you mean we can't?"

"I know that ship. That ship is an interdictor-class starcruiser. We've been pulled into a gravity well."

"How do you know? You didn't even check."

"I don't need to. It's the Leviathan." He finally faced me. "Saul Karath's vessel."

Well, I lied. I couldn't help myself. Here's another chapter before the year ends! It's a short one and it is mostly set up for the Leviathan...I won't promise the next chapters will come as quickly (since a lot of them will be heavy subject-matter-wise, and I need to take my time with them). So, I'll see you next year (for real this time)!