Author's Note: This is the "bonus" chapter that I was going to post last weekend but my proofreader went on holiday… literally (she drove off with K-pop loving Kendo fanatics). I'm calling it a bonus chapter because it's not really what this story is about. It's all about the Kyrimorut Aliit, so if those guys don't interest you, you can skip it. If you want to get to know the Mandos better read away… or maybe it only interests me… maybe not.
I'll be back to the actual story next week hopefully. The next chapter is proving hard to write. Usually I like to have next weeks chapter done before I post. So I'm behind. Sorry to keep you waiting. –November
(Disclaimer: Karen Traviss created pretty much everything Mando.)
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Chapter 13 Part 2: Brothers
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It was impossible to miss the RV point. Vorpa saw it from a mile off. It was a short flight north of Enceri, a little backwater town buried in the Mandalorian countryside. A large green Mon Cal hybrid submersible was sitting on its landing struts in the muddy field A'den guided her to. A group of people, some in armor, some not, were moving around a fire and a camp set up on a dryer swell of the land.
Vorpa set Gra'tua down a respectful distance from the camp. It wasn't smart to crowd any group of Mando's, even, and perhaps most especially, when they were employing you. Before the ship had settled on the soft ground, Kal was out of his seat. He jumped off the ramp before it was even fully lowered and started off across the field. A'den got up more slowly.
"Come on," he said, motioning to her, "my brother will have your money."
Vorpa opened her mouth to argue, but he was already climbing out of the ship. She didn't have much choice but to follow him out into the mud and the light spring drizzle. She snatched up her helmet and threw her long green braid of hair over her shoulder.
By the time she and A'den reached the camp Kal was already climbing up into the green Mon Cal hybrid-sub. The drives were primed, and it lifted off a few seconds later.
"So this is Vorpa," a merry voice very similar to A'den's said, and a Mandalorian in deep blue armor sauntered out from between the tents to meet the pair. He was as tall as A'den and just as firmly built. A few other equally imposing men ambled around behind him at various distances, all armed. Vorpa wished she'd brought more than just her knife and hip blaster off the ship. She'd have felt better with a beskad, a heavy blade of Mandalorian iron, on her back. Little good it would do me in a fire fight, she thought.
"I'm Mereel, A'den's brother," the man in blue introduced himself.
"You have my money?" She asked.
"I sure do," he answered amiably, but made no move to bring it out. "There's no rush though, we're just making a roast. Have a meal with us, A'den insists—well he would, but his manners are too good."
"At least I have manners," A'den shot back at his brother, but there was no malice in it. His voice was more relaxed than it had been on Gra'tua. Some of the tension he had carried on the return trip to Mandalore was eased away just by the presence of his family.
"I'll pass, thanks," Vorpa replied, but it didn't seem to dampen Mereel's spirits because he laughed.
"No really, we insist!" He said, "and I mean really." The grin hidden by his helmet was clear in his tone and didn't faulter as the hand on his hip lowered to the grip of his blaster. Vorpa narrowed her eyes and her gaze flicked behind her visor between the hands of all the Mandalorian's in firing range. Of them, only A'den wasn't set to draw his weapon. Four on one, it still wasn't going to be a firefight she could win. She held back a frustrated growl while her heart was beating loudly in her ears.
"I don't really have a choice, do I?" She asked.
"No, you don't," Mereel said. His cheer just infuriated her more. "But you'll get over it. We're really nice people once you get to know us."
"Yeah, your father's a real ray of sunshine," Vorpa said, crossing her arms.
"Aww, don't be too hard on Kal'buir. He's dealing with a lot right now. Things are a bit tense back home. That's why we've decided to have this little party."
"Stick around until we're sure you can't track us home," another of the Mandaloria's—the one in dark red armor—said, "and then you're free to go." From his voice and size he was another of A'den's brother. He stood behind Mereel with such straight posture he could have been at attention before a General. His words made sense though. She understood their paranoia.
"Could be worse," she said, shrugging in defeat. They could just tie me up, or shoot me, she told herself. The stiff, red-clad brother nodded and turned around to march back into the camp.
"Great!" Mereel said, "You've made A'den's day." A'den punched his brother, his gauntlet making a metallic clang against Mereel's blue shoulder plate.
"That was Ordo," A'den told Vorpa, pointing after the stiff figure. "Ignore Mer'ika. This is Fi and Corr," he pointed to a Mandalorian in grey and red armor sporting the letters "M" and "S" on his helmet, the abbreviation of mir'shupur, brain injury in Mando'a. Those letters marked the man as a veteran or just an unlucky shabuir. The second man A'den pointed to was wearing bright orange armor, the color of shereshoy, loving life.
"I'll introduce you to the others later," he said, "Don't worry too much about remembering all the names."
"We could all just refer to each other by colors," the man in red and gray armor, Fi, offered, and Vorpa rolled her eyes in the privacy of her bucket. She wanted to tell him where he could put his wit, but it hardly seemed fair to put down a man with only half a brain. Instead she cocked her head to the side at A'den. Everyone has one, she thought. He turned to look at her and he seemed to know what she was thinking, because his shoulders shook in silent chuckles.
"Good plan, Gett'ika," Mereel said jovially. Ge'tal meant red. Gett'ika meant little nuts or one with very little courage (small balls).
"Well played, vod," the Mando in orange said laughing and slapped 'Gett'ika' on the back consolingly.
How many of these people are A'den's siblings? Vorpa wondered. She looked over the group milling around the camp and picked out two women in aruetyc clothing and more than half a dozen armored figures. This must be his clan, she thought while she followed the little group moving toward the side of the ridge. Six old shabby speeder bikes were haphazardly parked in a line beside the camp. One was partially disassembled on a tarp with a woman in dark maroon plates of armor half buried under the chaise.
"How's it going, cyr'ika," 'Gett'ika' asked, squatting down beside the bike.
"Just a clogged fuel valve," her voice echoed off the metal machine, "apart from being dirty there's nothing really wrong with these things."
"No one ever argued with easy money," a man in deep purple armor said. He glanced over at the approaching group and picked out Vorpa quickly.
"Evaar'la adat," new girl, he said, more of a statement than an address, "I'm Prudii." He grasped her forearm in a handshake then introducing her to Kom'rk (another of A'den's brothers who wore dark green), Parja (the woman under the bike), and Jilka (who was one of the two women in civilian clothing). The other woman, she was told, was Besany, Ordo's pregnant wife who was minding the dinner. Vorpa took a moment to marvel that the Stiff was married. He didn't look like he knew the definition of the word 'romance' much less understood the concept.
"Alright, done," the female mechanic said, rolling out from under the bike once she'd reattached the last part. "Go ahead and start her up, F'ika."
Fi hopped on and didn't waste time revving the engine to a deafening roar. The aruetii woman covered her exposed ears and backed away.
"Have we convinced you to get some armor yet?" the man in orange asked cheerfully. "It's a lot more practical than flimsy clothes, not to mention fashionable."
She threw him a half-hearted look of exasperation that didn't' conceal her smile. It seemed Corr was trying to make up for Kal's dark mood with his incessant cheer. He was the sunshine of the family, bright as his armor.
"Alright!" Fi said, letting the engine fall to a puttering idle. "Who's up for a race? Twenty creds says I can beat you ARC boys!"
"What?" the mechanic cried. "You can't race these. They don't belong to us!"
"But we've got to test them, right? Make sure there's nothing else wrong with them."
"Yes, but—"
"Why can't we have fun doing it?" He asked his cyr'ika innocently.
"I'm in," Mereel cheered. "Corr?"
"Oya!" Sunshine agreed enthusiastically.
"A'den? Kom'rk? Prudii?"
"Count me out," the purple man said with a shake of his head. "But I'll be the judge."
The mechanic groaned and put a hand on either side of her helmet as she shook her head. Mereel took that as permission and quickly jumped aboard one of the bikes. Sunshine leaned in to say something softly to the aruetii before sprinting to the bike next to Mereel's. That left one bike without a rider.
"Care to join?" A'den asked as he swung his leg over the seat of a rusted machine still flecked with yellow paint.
"Me?" Vorpa question.
The Mando in green armor, a shade darker than her own, added as he passed her, "We know you're good for the creds—we're about to pay you handsomely—and Wad'e said you only ever lost to him,"
"That lying… I beat him by a mile!" Vorpa snapped defensively.
"Well then, go on, prove it," the purple Mando acting as the judge challenged. Vorpa crossed her arms and looked between the well-coordinated triple act of tall muscular brothers. She frowned behind her helmet.
"Go on," the mechanic said good-naturedly, with a tone of resignation. "They just love a competition, and you're the new and interesting contestant. Don't deprive them, or they'll mope." Vorpa threw her hands up in surrender, but smiled inside her helmet. This could be fun, she thought to herself. It's been ages since I got to race anyone that wasn't shooting at me.
"Hey, hey!" Fi cried. "Mereel's got terrain sensors on his!"
"Tough luck vod'ika," Mereel laughed.
"Turn it off, Mereel!" the Judge called as he drew a rough line in the mud with a stick. "Lets make this a fair race. Across the field to that big veshok tree that got struck by lightning and back, first one to re-cross the line wins the pot: 120 creds."
Vorpa mounted up on her own bike and did a quick run over on the controls. It was pretty standard, a well-built classic. Like Mereel's, hers was outfitted with a terrain scanner that she didn't bother touching. Vorpa brought the bike to life and took a moment to enjoy the powerful purr of the engine underneath her. She pulled it forward to the line beside A'den. Mereel reeved his engine and whooped while the green Mando bent low over the handlebars, intently watching the Judge for the starting flag. A'den turned to give Vorpa an informal salute; in a helmet it was the equivalent of a cocky grin. She could imagine the expression on his expressive face.
"Tsikala!" the Judge called, "Ke serim!...Jii!"
Six speeder bikes shot off from the line without a moment of hesitation and hurtled across the field. Mereel quickly careened into the front of the pack with a few reckless swerving moves to ward off his brothers. Fi went off wide to the right avoiding Mereel's insane tactics. They could hear the Mechanic yelling from behind them not to damage anything, but her voice was quickly lost in the wind. A'den slunk in behind Mereel with the green brother and Vorpa close on his six.
Sunshine was pulling ahead of Fi by a nose when his engine suddenly stalled, and he glided to a slow stop in the middle of the field, cussing up a storm. Vorpa took advantage of a small rise in the ground to swing around ahead of the green brother, edging him out from behind A'den just as they reached the lightning struck tree. She cut the turn as close as she could and came up neck and neck with A'den behind Mereel.
They shot past Sunshine, still cussing at the machine, on their way back to the line. Mereel was already cheering his victory. He took one hand off the steering to pump his fist into the air at the moment his bike went over a patch of loose mud. The repulsors threw up waves of the slick earth and Mereel's one hand on the steering wasn't enough to maintain control. He spun out wildly right in front of his pursuers. At the same moment, Vorpa swung out to the side, swerving around the crash. A'den jerked his handlebars a split second before he crashed into Mereel's side. His violent turn sprayed mud in an arching crescent, dousing his brother from shoulder to boots. Vorpa saw Mereel spin out in the wrap-around view of her HUD and immediately let go of the throttle.
Shab! She cursed, her heart leaping into her throat. She turned to look at the two brothers in the mud. The green brother shot between her and Mereel, rain flying off the sleek lines of his bike to pepper her visor. Fi was just a second behind him and shot past on her other side. Vorpa watched A'den get control of his bike fishtailing in the mud and accelerate toward her. She put her head down and shot off after the new leaders as A'den came up beside her again.
The Judge was bent over and shaking with laughter when the green brother shot past him with Fi a hand's breadth behind. A'den drifted closer to Vorpa the moment before they crossed the line. She didn't notice until it was too late. He edged her far enough away from the line so she had to curve around him to reach it. Being on the inside of curve he had less distance to travel and pulled ahead by a nose at the end.
She cussed at herself behind her helmet as she slowed down. Stupid! Di'kut! You totally fracked that up! She thought.
"Not bad," A'den said, pulling up beside her. She could hear him smiling. She swallowed and growled back angrily at him because she didn't trust her voice to sound calm.
"You pushed me out, jerk!"
"You could have pushed back," he challenged.
"They're not my bikes to crash!" She cried, exasperated.
"Relax," he said, good-naturedly but paused in a moment of trepidation. "It was just a little fun. Neither of us was going to win that."
Vorpa swallowed against the painful stab in her chest. Damn, she thought, now he thinks he did something wrong. Shab'la Di'kut! She took a deep breath and let it out slow as possible, trying to calm her racing heart.
"Not with your maniac brother around," she said in agreement. "Is he insane?"
A'den just laughed, though it sounded forced. Mereel was riding into camp, looking more black than blue with all the mud clinging to him. The Judge was gasping for air between guffaws and slapped a hand on his defeated brother's back. Sunshine marched his defective bike back into camp to the Mechanic. The young woman had descended on Fi with frustrated growling the second he stopped. She whacked his arm hard with a hysdrospanner, catching the side of his shoulder plate in a high-pitched clang.
"I can't believe I let you talk me into that. Look what happened!" She motioned at the dead bike the Mando in orange was leading back. He parked it next to her and slunk off sullenly.
"Aww, Cyr'ika, I'm sorry," Fi sounded so painfully genuine even Vorpa could see why the Mechanic couldn't stay mad at him for long. "At least we know one of them still needs work."
"And I expect you to help me with it."
"I love helping you," Fi said, his innocence gone and with far too much excitement for just cleaning carburetors and tuning exhaust manifolds.
"I mean real work," the Mechanic grumbled as she stalked past Vorpa with Sunshine's broken bike toward the tarp and her toolbox.
The aruetyc woman picked her way over the muddy ground to join Sunshine watching Mereel shake off the worst of the mud. Vorpa saw her put a consoling hand on his bright shoulder plate and he perked up, turning to talk to her animatedly. Some people can just make the most of anything, Vorpa thought.
"I guess there's more than one way to win," A'den echoed her unspoken observation, clearly watching the same thing she was. As A'den turned away from the flirting couple and dismounted his bike, the winning brother came jogging up to his side.
"Stop looking so smug," A'den said before his brother could even speak.
"You can't see my expression." The smug grin hidden behind the green helmet was evident in the winner's voice.
"I could feel you gloating at fifty paces." A'den slapped two ten cred chips into his brother's hand reluctantly.
"I'm tied with Prudii now," the winner said, tossing the credits in his palm tauntingly.
"What's he talking about?" Vorpa asked, digging in her belt pocket for the money she owed her fellow green armored Mando.
"The running tally," he said, accepting her credits. "Taking into account the number of races, who participated, and who won, I'm tied with Prudii now for the highest score."
"You keep a score?" She asked A'den. It sounded a lot more complicated than just how many wins each brother had. Who has time for that? She wondered.
"Of course. Every race since we were two."
"That's…." weird, she thought. "Impressive. Who's winning?"
"Mereel, Ordo's in second, I just pulled ahead of A'den to tie with Prudii, and Jaing's in last."
Vorpa frowned. So Fi and Sunshine… Corr? Was that his name... aren't their brothers? She wondered. She has just opened her mouth to ask why only those six were included in "the running tally" when a woman's voice called down the hill.
"Dinner's ready."
"Wayii!" the Winner cried and vaulted over A'den's bike toward the camp. The Judge, Fi, and Mereel ran up the hill behind him. Mereel seemed to have gotten over his loss, because he was whipping mud off his plates and throwing it at his brothers playfully.
"I'll save you some, ridurr," Fi called over his shoulder to the Mechanic. She was half-hidden under one of the rusty machines again. She waved an electrowrench at him and Vorpa caught a few growled expletives coming from the tarp.
I wonder if she married him before or after his head injury, she wondered. The Mechanic, Parja, seemed too smart and down-to-earth to marry a simpleton like Fi. Maybe he'd been different before whatever happened to him.
"We should hurry or there won't be anything left," A'den said to Vorpa.
"They can't eat an entire roast that quickly."
"Oh, we'll try," he said, and she could hear his easy grin was back. She relaxed, relieved that her harsh words were forgotten for the moment, and they started up the hill after his family.
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"What happened to you?" the tall, blond woman at the top of the hill asked when Mereel came into the camp. "Get out of that before you come anywhere near the food."
"Yes, Besany," Mereel said meekly and slunk off to his tent, while his brother's snickered and went on to the fire. A'den ran up to join them while his companion approached with more caution.
Vorpa was immediately struck with the blond woman's beauty. Her delicate features and fair skin didn't fit with the sturdy utilitarian clothing and weathered boots she wore. It couldn't have been more clear that Besany didn't belong there. Vorpa tried to convince herself the tightness in her chest when she looked at Besany's swollen stomach was disgust not jealousy.
"You must be Vorpa," Besany said kindly to the woman in green armor. "I'm glad you could stay for dinner."
"I didn't have a choice," Vorpa muttered back. Patronizing landuuryc aruetii, (weakling outsider) Vorpa thought bitterly.
"Well, I'm glad you're here anyway. We don't get to meet a lot of new people." Besany led her forward into the camp, tottering slightly with the added weight on her belly.
Logs and low benches were set up around the happily crackling fire, already rich with hot embers that warmed the air around the center of camp. As the sun went down it would get colder and they'd be happy to have the warmth. The boys were already descending on the meal spread out on a long bench and the roast that was propped up on it's spit beside the fire. They carved off large chunks of meat from all sides like they were afraid it might run away. The Stiff, Besany's husband, sat on a bench with an already full plate and his red helmet at his feet, watching the frenzy with amusement. In the harsh contrast of the firelight his face was remarkably similar to A'den's.
"Think they'll save any for us?" the shorter, dark haired aruetii asked, joining Vorpa and Besany to watch the fray.
"I think I made enough even they couldn't clean it all up alone, but then again… I've learned not to underestimate their appetite. It looks like A'den's providing for Vorpa at least." Sure enough, A'den had extracted himself from the herd with two plates in hand. He motioned to Vorpa to join him on the rough bench with the Stiff and she was happy to get away from the women. She felt more comfortable with men and machines.
"I should have warned you that food goes fast around us," A'den said when she sat down beside him. He passed over a deep sided camping plate filled with vegetables in spicy sauce, glistening slices of the roast meat still shinny with juices and fat rolls of dark, dense bread. It all smelled tantalizingly like home cooked food. It was somehow completely different form pre-packaged conservator dinners or even tap-caf fare. It was painfully nostalgic for Vorpa, bringing up memories that soured what should have been the best meal she'd had in a long time.
"Happy you stuck around for the free food now?" Fi asked as he came over to sit near her.
"Considering the money we're paying her, minus Kom'ika's winnings, it's a small inconvenience," Mereel added, plopping down between Fi and Vorpa as the Winner, Kom'rk, took the far end of the bench. Mereel reached over Fi's lap to give his brother his winnings, and snagged a slice of meat from Fi's plate in the same motion. Fi was pulling off his helmet and didn't notice. He shook out his dark hair, and plowed into his meal without hesitation. Mereel lifted his own bucket and winked at Vorpa as he bit into his stolen prize. Vorpa could only stare slack jawed at Mereel's face, her gaze moving past him to Fi, Kom'rk, Corr then Prudii, and back around the fire to Ordo and A'den. The last was looking at her and chewing with a patient expression.
"You all have the same face," Vorpa said dumbly.
"Yep," A'den said and took another bite of bread soaked in sauce without breaking her gaze.
"H-how?" Vorpa looked past him to Ordo. He was hovering protectively beside his wife offering her a plate. It was definitely A'den's face, not a trick of the light, but with an expression that she wouldn't have been able to imagine on him. Mereel was the same. It was A'den's grin, but there was something different about it, something less genuine and more leering. Fi's face had an endearing innocence, while the Mando in purple armor, Prudii, looked harassed and tired like an old man. But the features underneath were the same.
"We're clones," A'den answered her question. "Deserters from the Republic Army before it was the Empire."
"Deserters?" She asked.
"Can you be a deserter if you never signed on in the first place?" Mereel asked, leaning over to join in. "Cause I don't remember agreeing to anything and I have an excellent memory."
"They decided they didn't want me," Fi said, "It was their loss. I'm clearly the handsomest brother here."
"K'uur, Fi!" Kom'rk said, rolling his eyes.
That explains the head injury, Vorpa thought and felt a little twinge of guilt for thinking badly of Fi. She wasn't going to belittle him with pity thought.
"You see why we're paying for your silence now," Ordo turned around to join the conversation, having satisfied himself his wife was well pampered.
"Yeah… I guess I do," Vorpa said, her voice sounding far off. She was still looking between the identical faces in a state of shock. Without conscious thought she started eating, not really tasting the food. Conversation went on around her while the sky overhead turned from purple to deep, velvety blue. Vorpa found herself staring at A'den then looking at one of his brothers and then back, searching for some difference in their features. It was disconcerting, like identical twins talking in unison… times seven. Yet until they took off their helmets she couldn't tell they were clones. They were different people, with different mannerisms, personalities, and tones. How can they be clones and be so different? She wondered. No wonder they're so big and muscular, they were bred to be perfect soldiers, ori'ramikad. How did they get to be mando'ade? Were they really cloned from Jango Fett? How does Kal fit into this? How did they all get here?
"Seconds?" A'den asked her, looking back unbothered into her blatant stare. Vorpa started and glanced down in confusion to see that her plate was indeed empty. She nodded her head and it was whisked away. She watched A'den walk up to the bench of covered serving dishes. She noticed that he walked with more of a swagger than Corr and he wore his kama more comfortably than Fi. There were small things aside from his armor color that made him distinctly different, that made him A'den.
Vorpa tensed when the dark haired aruetii sat down in the vacated seat beside her.
"It's a bit disconcerting at first, but you'll get used to it," the woman said kindly to Vorpa. She spoke in basic with a heavy coruscanti accent. "Just be careful. They like to switch armor and impersonate each other. I endured months of that."
Like that could work, Vorpa thought sarcastically and snorted in amusement before she could stop herself. "I think I could tell the difference," she said while the hairs on the back of her neck rose.
"Challenge accepted," Mereel turned around with a nearly demonic grin. It looked strange on A'den's face. But it wasn't really A'den's face. It was Mereel's and Ordo's and every other man's in the camp. There were hundreds… millions, if she remembered the hollo news right, of men with that same face. They are all brothers, she realized.
The coruscanti woman sighed and shook her head at Mereel, then stood up and headed for the bench of nearly cleaned serving dishes. A'den returned with the two plates that were less full this time.
"You have a big family," Vorpa said to him as she accepted hers, and he laughed.
"Yeah, I do."
"Hmm…" she chewed on a bite of the flavorful bread while she looked around the fireside and really appreciated the taste for the first time. Apart from the striking resemblances, the gathering looked like any other group of Mandalorians enjoying a peaceful evening.
"Ok," she said.
"Ok?"
"Ok. You're a clone. Your brothers are clones. That's ok." Vorpa nodded to herself and took another bite.
"Good." A'den agreed with his easy grin.
"You were testing me," Vorpa said frowning at him. "This whole thing was—is a test."
"We need to know if you can be trusted."
Vorpa's eyes narrowed and her frown deepened. "Why tell me at all?"
"It's easier than trying to keep it hidden and saves time."
"The Empire is still searching for you?"
"Yes. We are deserters. Kal, Besany, and Jilka are wanted for treason. The others are conspirators. Those are all crimes punishable by execution without trial in the Empire." A'den's answers were quick, simple, and coldly logical. He seemed to be able to flip from soldierly rationality to easygoing brother in a single breath. "Every time we reveal ourselves we're putting our whole family in danger. We have to be careful with the risks we take."
"How does Wad'e fit into this?"
"He was one of the Mandalorians Jango Fett contracted, along with Kal'buir, to train clones on Kamino—that's where we were hatched."
Vorpa couldn't repress her shiver at the word 'hatched'. It was hard to think of A'den and the other men around her as being 'hatched' like fowl for slaughter. Seeing them the way she had down by the speeders, as rambunctious unique individuals, it was hard to think of them as being one cohesive entity the way clones were usually described. They were no more carbon copies of each other than children were copies of their parents.
"So how many more of you… of your brothers are on Mandalore?" She asked.
"Oh a few scattered here and there. We've been able to get some clones willing to desert out of Imperial service. Not all of my brothers on the outside live on Mandalore though. They're drawn to bounty hunting; it's what we know. And we're really good at it." He added the last part jovially.
I know how hard that is, Vorpa thought, to start over with nothing and no one. No wonder they go back to what they know. I guess that's the same as me. But A'den has Kal. Kal's more than just his adopted father; he's the only parent A'den's ever known, she realized. No wonder he'll follow that old man anywhere. Kal has the blind loyalty of maybe a dozen custom grown soldiers. No wonder they made him money. They were the bounty hunter ideal, cloned from the Mandalore himself, a man who killed Jedi with his bare hands. That little, old chakaar stole himself his own personal army! She thought angrily.
"And you?" She asked A'den seriously. "Why are you still here? Because of your father?"
"That's part of it," A'den said nodding. His eyes drifted out of focus and the soldier's solemnity returned in an instant. He was about to say more when Ordo put a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder.
"Vod," he said, and gave A'den a pointed look.
But out, sheb'urcyin, Vorpa thought angrily. She wondered if Ordo knew how often he came off as an inconsiderate shabuir.
"I'm not telling her anything sensitive," A'den defended. "She's more useful to us if she understands our situation." She was happy to hear he was annoyed too.
"What situation?" Vorpa narrowed her eyes and looked between the identical boys. Ordo was frowning at her, looking stiffer than ever.
What is Kal having them do for him? She wondered. The amount of money they're paying me it must be pretty profitable. What does this have to do with the woman they're chasing? Did she cheat them? She repressed a shiver at the thought of what someone like Kal would do to his enemies given the chance.
"We've already said more than we should have," Ordo said cryptically. "We took a risk even letting you come here."
You threated to shoot me if I didn't stay! Vorpa thought furiously but held her tongue.
"Loosen up Captain," Mereel said, leaning around Vorpa. Apparently there was no such thing as a private conversation in A'den's family. "She's alright. Wad'e wasn't lying when he said she wasn't a half bad pilot. She at least managed not to douse me in mud. Those are fast reflexes, faster than A'den's anyway, but I think he was a bit distracted tonight."
A'den tore off a piece of his roll and threw it at his brother petulantly. Mereel laughed and snatched the bread out of the air, popping it into his mouth defiantly.
"I wasn't the one who spun out," A'den teased back. "You were the one too distracted to see the mud."
"You didn't see it either," Mereel shot back.
"Vorpa did," Kom'rk spoke up and all four heads turned his way. Vorpa felt her heart lurch and jump to a frantic pace, pumping ice cold blood down into her gut. She forced herself to look at Kom'rk's face.
"She turned a second before Mereel spun out," Kom'rk said, meeting her eyes with his level gaze. He had been just behind the leading trio, in the perfect position to see the accident, but the whole thing happened so quickly. It was all a blur in Vorpa's memory.
How did he notice? She thought in panic. Sweat broke out on the back of her neck and her armor was suddenly stiflingly hot in the humid night air.
"What?" Fi asked, swallowing the last of his third helping of dinner. "How did you know it was there?" He gaped at her.
Vorpa suddenly found herself the focus of five identical stares. Her mouth went dry.
"Actually… well…" She stuttered. Her cheeks turned vivid green, and she looked down at the dirt, unable to meet Kom'rk's gaze again. She felt her eyes stinging and gripped the hard sharp edge of her thigh plate with her hand. Even through her glove, it dug painfully into her palm. The pain cleared her head.
"I turned on the terrain scanner while we were crossing the field the first time," she said, "and I knew it was there."
A beat of silence followed Vorpa's quick explanation. She could hear her own heart thumping painfully loud in her ears. She gripped her thigh plate harder, but barely felt the bruise forming through the burning feeling rising in her chest.
"Genius," Mereel gasped and burst into laughter. It was so incongruous with what Vorpa was feeling it hurt. "Why didn't I think of that?" He asked aloud with mirth.
"You mean… you cheated?" Fi asked with innocent disbelief.
"Yeah," Vorpa admitted and ducked her head. The dark green hair that had escaped her braid cast flickering shadows across her face.
"Ah well, you admitted to it," Kom'rk said shrugging, "Mereel wouldn't have."
"Hey!" Mereel cried. "I take offense at that."
Kom'rk snorted dismissively and got up to scavenge the remains of dinner. Vorpa's heart slowed to a painful pounding in her chest as he walked away.
"And you were mad at me for crowding you out on the last stretch?" A'den said softly so only she could hear. Vorpa looked up at his openly confused and wounded expression and her stomach flipped uncomfortably. She couldn't do much more than stare gaping at him.
"That's not…" that's not what I meant, she thought. I didn't mean to cheat! "I…" I'm sorry, she wanted to say but the words wouldn't move past her throat. "We could have crashed. You scared me, that's all." She bit her tongue and fought to maintain her expression.
"Hmm," he hummed thoughtfully at her answer and went back to his food still frowning. Vorpa scrambled for something more to say that would smooth the whole thing over—anything that wasn't the truth.
"I think she owes us extra for cheating," Fi grumbled.
"Well we haven't paid her yet, we could dock it out of—"
Vorpa spun around, momentarily forgetting A'den. "I'd never work for you again," she cut Mereel off and added with icy humor, "Just ask Wad'e."
"Is that what happened?"
"I still think we deserve something," Fi grumbled.
"You finished before her anyway," Mereel cried. "I'm the one who got covered in mud. I think she owes me."
"Something extra, huh," Vorpa said slyly. She swallowed and thought, can't hurt to try. She slid across the bench to A'den's side. He looked up from his plate with a fork of vegetables in his hand. Before he could pull away, she caught his chin between her thumb and knuckle, and swooped in to press her lips to his. A'den's fork clattered as it slipped from his slackened grip and fell onto his plate. She felt his jaw tighten then slacken in surprise then shock. His lips parted unintentionally against hers. She tasted his breath, the spices and grease of their dinner mixed with something new. A'den only had a moment to blink before the kiss was over.
"Even?" She asked softly, still sitting close enough to press her leg to his on the bench and her hand still on his chin. His lightning fast mind was running through every moment since he had walked into her hanger, trying to understand what he was feeling at that moment while at the same time every perfectly preserved second of the kiss was playing on repeat. He swallowed and licked his lips unconsciously. He registered the new taste on his tongue, filing it away in his memory. It was fresh and slightly sweet. She tastes… green. How can a taste be green? He wondered. It all ran through his head in the second before Corr whooped loudly from the other side of the fire.
"Kandosii, ner vod!" The clone in orange clapped and cheered. Besany was smiling from behind her husband while he had a distinct expression of unease.
"Hey, Vorpa," Mereel leaned toward her. "Shouldn't we all get a kiss? I mean you really cheated all of us."
Vorpa turned away from A'den to smile sweetly at Mereel and say, "I don't like the taste of mud."
Fi laughed heartily and ducked under Mereel's halfhearted swipe at his head.
"Finally a woman who can resist you," Fi joked. Mereel clapped a hand to his chest and mimed a distraught expression sarcastically.
"I think he's swooning," Kom'rk joked, coming back with a miraculously full plate. Vorpa marveled that the dishes weren't sparkling after being picked over so thoroughly. She relaxed a little now that the topic of conversation was moving on from her cheating and turned back to A'den with a heavy feeling in her churning stomach. He met her gaze without anger or hurt in his eyes, only perplexed confusion.
"Even," he said, though he still wasn't smiling. Vorpa pressed her lips tightly together and nodded. He scratched the back of his head and she picked at a chip of pealing paint on her thigh plate.
"I did crowd you out at the end."
"It was a gutsy move."
"Usually I leave that kind of thing to Mereel," he said.
"I'd guess that's why he's winning."
"You'd be right," he said nodding. "We've all had lots of practice outrunning droids, though they're usually shoot at us."
"Well… I guess now I know why you have so many 'someone tried to kill me' stories."
"I do have some great ones," he said, his eyes lighting up and his cheeks tightening with a hint of his smile. He seemed as relieved as she was to move on to a new subject. "Want to hear one?" He asked her.
"Shoot," she offered, leaning back to listen. He launched into his story with animation and vivid detail. To her surprise she found herself relaxing and honestly enjoying the company. A'den was a good storyteller, and he had definitely seen a lot. She spent most of the rest of the night listening to his stories, some his own experiences and some of his brothers'.
It was an unusual evening for Vorpa. It had been a long time since she worked with any sizable group. Most of her work was transporting 'delicate' cargo. Even when she did work as transport for Mando mercenaries or bounty hunters, she was just the pilot, not really a member of the team. It was rare that she worked with the same team more than a few times anyway. It didn't give her long enough to get comfortable, and that, she often thought, was for the better.
But A'den's family was an easy group to slip into. They all loved fun as much as he did—she suspected even Ordo-the-stiff had a fun side—and they lived in the moment. Impending worries hung imminently over the little camp. Vorpa could infer it from the omission, and she realized the entire outing wasn't just put on for her benefit or to keep her from tracking Kal back to their home. They would have been there with or without her. They were escaping from whatever tragedy brought Kal so desperately to Mandalore. The night was a coveted happy moment for everyone. They could pretend for the evening that a peaceful home awaited them, and Vorpa could pretend something more than a cold cot on the floor of her office awaited her. She was in no hurry for the night to end.
Eventually every dish was cleared and not a scrap of food was left in the little camp. Vorpa marveled that it fit in just a dozen stomachs. Besany had made an inordinate amount of food. Still, the dishes were empty when Jilka and Corr collected them. Slowly the group broke up. Ordo took Besany into their tent before the first stars came out. Kom'rk disappeared silently into the lengthening shadows to grab a few moments of solitude. Prudii dozed off where he sat in his armor and helmet. His soft snoring echoed from the unsealed headgear. Fi and Parja set up bright lights by the speeder bikes. She sat eating the dinner Fi had saved for her and directed him in putting the disassembled machine back together.
When the fire was just glowing coals Vorpa couldn't put off leaving any longer. A'den walked her back across the damp field to Gra'tua.
"Your money," he said when they reached the ramp and pulled out a jingling bag. "It's all there."
"I trust that it is," she said, judging the weight in her hand.
"But you'll count it anyway," he said and she could see his teeth flash in the dim moonlight.
"Naturally," she agreed. "Ret'urcye mhi, A'den." We'll meet again (Goodbye). She turned to go, but A'den caught her arm. She couldn't help but flinch away from his restraining touch. She peered into the darkness at his face.
"I still don't understand why you did it."
"What?"
"Cheated."
"Maybe I just wanted to impress someone," she deflected noncommittally.
"Then why slow down. After Mereel spun out, you slowed down. What were you waiting for? You could have won."
"There's more than one way to win," she parroted his own words back to him. He let her pull her wrist lightly out of his grip. She retreated up the ramp into the sanctuary of her ship. She sat in the cockpit counting her pay and watched A'den's broad figure cross the field back to the warm glow coming from the camp.
I shouldn't have done that, she thought to herself with a frown. I enjoyed it too much. I should have told him it meant nothing. It's given him the wrong idea. But she could remember what his breath tasted like, and her wrist was cold where he'd held her gauntlet like he'd grabbed her bare skin. She didn't want him to think she wasn't interested or she was toying with him. That wasn't the truth either. She enjoyed his company and his easy smiles. Now that he was gone, she missed him.
This is ridiculous! Vorpa scolded, shaking herself out of the foolish mood. I'm not a child anymore! I'm too old for this kind of behavior. It's too risky. Eventually I'll run out of places to hide if I keep screwing up. From now on, it's just business. It's always been just business. She scooped her earnings into the bag and attached it to her belt. She kicked Gra'tua to life and raised the landing gear. Vorpa flew away from the camp and forced herself not to look back.
.
(long) Author's Note: I just love writing the Kyrimorut stuff. There wasn't enough brotherly Null action in KT's books. I really wanted to know what the six were like when they were all together (of course Jaing wasn't in this chapter—he was otherwise occupied). That, and I just need to write happy stuff because there's too much angst in the other story lines… soooo much angst.
So a little lesson in Mando'a. From last chapter: "Ner koor cuyi ner mircin" is a saying I made up. Literally it translates to, "My contract/promise is my cage." So it roughly means, "I am bound by my word." You'd think a culture of mercenaries and bounty hunters they would need a phrase like that. Kal seems under the impression there is some kind of honor among Mandos (excluding Death Watch of course).
I wasn't sure about including the Gett'ika joke. In Mando'a you add "'ika" to the end of words or after the first syllable of a name to make the diminutive. Like "ette" in french or "ito" in Spanish or "y" in engilsh… you get the picture. Red, Ge'tal, minus the second syllable plus "'ika" is roughly equivalent to calling someone "Little Red", Ge'ika. Gett'ika (with real emphasis on the tt sound) comes from Gett'se, which means 'nuts'.
Bud, dum, chhssss!... Yeah it's not funny when you explain it. (This all just firmly cements my geekdom.)
What Prudii says to start the race is pretty self-explanatory. "Tsikala! Ke serim! Jii!" translates to "Ready! Take Aim! Now!" I didn't bother finding a way to say "get set" instead of "take aim" because these are Mandos, they wouldn't bother having another phrase.
Another little note about what Prudii calls Vorpa. I translated it as "New girl" but really it means "new person" because there are no genders in Mando'a. The same phrase applies to men and women. I do love that about their language. I don't even know if there are any real (earth) languages that are gender neutral. We've got so much gender bias built into our language it's kind of staggering once you start to notice it. It's inevitable I guess after a couple thousand years of patriarchy and I don't see it changing any time soon.
As for what Vorpa called Besany, albeit only in her mind: laanduryc comes from the Mando word laandur meaning weak or frail. In a militaristic society it's not the most flattering of descriptions and in some cases down right insulting. Of course Vorpa doesn't know osik about Besany.
So I hope you enjoyed the chapter. Leave me a review or a pm if you can. If there's something you want to see more of (or less of) I'd appreciate knowing. If you have any questions about the Kyrimorut Aliit I'll try to work the answers into the following chapters or author's notes. What do you think of Vorpa? Love her, hate her…. I'm always open to feedback.
Hopefully I'll be back to the actual story by next week. –Ember