As the two navigated through the night crowds, weaving their way towards the parking lot where Prymax had landed the promised speeder, Alanti kept up a constant stream of talk, with very little real information about her.
"Atin sounds like one of those mando names with a story behind it. Where'd you get it?"
He thought for a second, then answered with a vague, "You don't want to know."
She laughed brightly, and then, with a serious expression, said, "Try me."
He frowned slightly, rather annoyed at her prying, but gave her a brief summary of his story. "During one of my missions during the war, I ignored my master's orders in order to wait for one of the clone squads under my command. They had been cut off from our drop ship for some time, and had just commed that they were on their way. My master said that we had to leave now, or we'd all be killed, but I threatened to ground the ship permanently if we didn't wait. The clones made it, and so did we. My master relented, but called me 'Atin' from then on. Guess it stuck."
"Really! So that's why your name is 'stubborn.'" She flashed another easy smile, but it soon disappeared. "I don't know where my name came from," she replied, almost to herself. "My parents died before they could tell me." For a moment, her face grew dark and her eyes clouded. There was rage in her, Prymax felt, rage seemingly too huge for someone that young. It was disturbing, and he suddenly doubted whether he had made the right choice in hiring this strange kid. She seemed to know too much, about them and about life.
He looked at her to find that she had returned again to her normal expression, only her eyes were sad. She noticed his stare, and smiled to break the awkwardness. "But that's nothing. Having family and friends would only complicate business anyway."
He ventured to ask a question. "How long have you been working…like this?"
"Oh, I don't know. A few years, I suppose."
Not good enough. "What did you do before that?"
"Worked in a shop, making deliveries. I got bored, and decided that this life was more fun. And it is."
It was at best a half-truth, he sensed. He had no trouble believing that she got bored, but making deliveries was a lie. Everyone had something to hide, and, it was best not to reveal too much if you were a spacer. Or a fugitive.
They reached the speeder. While Prymax knocked on the glass to wake up the dozing Jenyin, Alanti looked it over quickly. "It'll do," she said. "A bit dull, but nothing a bit of paint won't fix."
She insisted on driving "her" speeder, and Prymax had to remind her that it wasn't hers until she got them to their destination.
She laughed again, and gave her name to Jenyin and Reyzeb – strangely, she didn't bother asking theirs - as she turned on the engine. Then everyone was flung back into their seats as she hurled the speeder into the blur of nighttime traffic.
"Where are we going?" Jenyin asked.
"You guys can spend the night at my place, before we set out tomorrow morning," Alanti replied quickly, not taking her eyes off the busy lanes. "I have to get some supplies from home, anyway. Hey!"
A taxi had just cut across them, and she yelled a few colorful swear words at the hulking driver, who turned and growled something obscene back.
Alanti's eyes glowed, whether with anticipation or anger, Jenyin couldn't tell. "Hang on, guys!" she called as she sharply pulled up into the lane above.
Prymax yelled, "What are you-"
Then the world suddenly turned upside-down as the speeder flipped 180 degrees and made a beeline for the offending taxi. The man in the back of the taxi screamed like a woman, the taxi driver cursed, Jenyin yelled something and closed his eyes, and Alanti laughed exultantly.
When Jenyin opened his eyes again, the speeder was perfectly level, driving normally – if you could call Alanti's speed-and-dodge techniques normal – inside a completely different traffic lane. The only signs that anything unusual had happened were that Alanti was still chuckling about the "look on his face," and Prymax looked unusually pale.
Jenyin grumbled something about having fun at someone else's expense, but inside he was anxious about the taxi.
"Don't worry; I never kill in my jokes," Alanti answered his unspoken question. "I was just paying him back with a good scare."
"Just paying him back?" Jenyin asked in a voice dripping sarcasm.
"He was in my way. You really don't know anything about life outside your little Temple, do you?'
Jenyin turned his head away, ignoring Alanti's ceaseless chatter, and didn't speak for the rest of the trip. Prymax still listened, but with only half his mind. The other half was thinking of the longer journey ahead.
After landing the speeder near an abandoned junkyard, Alanti led the group through a series of back alleys and into a building, through a dimly lit hallway, and to the door at the very end. She pressed a button on the panel beside the door and spoke into it impatiently. "PJ, it's Alanti. Open up already."
A tinny voice answered back, "Who are the others? New friends, or new hostages?"
"You know I don't make friends. And if they were hostages, they would be unconscious."
"So what are they?"
Alanti kicked at the door in frustration. "They're passengers: satisfied?"
"Alright, alright. Just asking."
The door slid back to reveal a small room with very little furniture. There were three more doors, the two open ones apparently leading to a bedroom and a storage room. The third was closed.
"You guys can sleep over there," she said, pointing towards the closed door, "and Reyzeb can sleep in my room. I'll take the couch tonight, and wake you early tomorrow so we can get a head start and avoid any morning traffic…or interrogation." She flashed a knowing smile before turning around to yell, "PJ! Get over here!"
The droid that bustled out of the storage room at her call glided gracefully above the ground on repulsorlift engines, but its upper body seemed to be a collection of many different parts, all of which were mismatched in color and size. Here was an android's arm, there an R2 unit's eye, and from somewhere behind it lashed a mechanized tentacle like a tail. The screen that served as its mouth was set in a genial grin.
"Hi," came a shockingly boyish voice from the towering droid. "I'm P1J47, but you can call me PJ. And you would be…?"
"I'm Atin, and this is Jalek and Reyan," Prymax said, making up names on the spot for Jenyin and Reyzeb.
"Great to meet you," PJ replied, pointing his android arm gun at "Jalek" Jenyin, who instinctively ducked down.
"Whoops, wrong hand!" PJ's mouth turned to apologetic smile. He offered his tentacle tail, which apparently also served as an arm, and Jenyin shook it cautiously.
Prymax declined the handshake, simply nodding his head in recognition of the greeting. A wan smile touched Reyzeb's lips when PJ bowed graceful to her, then nearly toppled over, unbalanced.
"That's what the tail is for, you dimwit!" Alanti cried out, exasperated. "I put it on for you to balance yourself, not to shake hands." She gave his tail a good yank to set him upright.
"Oops, sorry," he grinned again sheepishly and excused himself to "practice balancing myself." A few seconds later, a crash came from the storage room, and Alanti rolled her eyes.
Alanti did a quick cleanup of her room, throwing the junk on her bed haphazardly into random metal drawers, and showed her visitors where the bathroom was. "Oh, and before I forget," she said, opening one of many closets in the spare room, "all of you will have to get rid of your Jed – your outfits. You look like monks compared to what people are wearing these days."
In a few minutes, outfits had been chosen for Jenyin and Reyzeb: a red robe of Ramordian silk, and a gossamer white chaughaine gown.
"Exactly what are we dressed for? Some formal dance?" Jenyin asked a bit acidly.
"No, not quite. But you're going to be one the idle rich, about to go on a pleasant journey to some faraway vacation spot. Reyan here will be your…uh, female companion."
"Female companion?" Jenyin's face turned red as his outfit, and Reyzeb looked slightly less turquoise and slightly more pink.
"Relax," Alanti said through her laughter. "It's only until we reach my ship. I have more suitable clothes there, and you can bring your Jedi outfits with you; I don't think people pay much attention to Order 66 in…wherever you're going. Atin, where exactly do you want me to take you guys?" She asked the question rather loudly, as Atin had disappeared while she had been outfitting the other two.
He came out of Alanti's bedroom, holding something in his hands. "Whose is this?" he asked.
It was a Mandalorian helmet, the kind that his people often wore. The distinctive T-shaped visor gleamed in the light, but the paint and metal were tarnished and dull, so that you could no longer see what color it had been originally.
"Oh, that one is – was my friend's…" Alanti said, her voice dying away. She took the helmet from him and studied it with a far-off look for a few moments. The look of sadness and rage in her eyes resurfaced, causing Prymax to feel uneasy.
She blinked, and it was gone. "He's dead now, but, come to think of it, that would make a good disguise for you. A complete different look from a Jedi, with no face to recognize, more than enough defense mechanisms; no one would think that a Jedi-hunting, killing-with-bare-hands Mandalorian would be a Jedi…" As she rattled on, she ran into the other room and came out with the rest of the armor, which was also dull and tarnished. "Try it on."
Prymax examined the armor. He disliked using another Mando'ad's beskar'gam, even if the man was dead; it was an insult to himself… but his pride would have to wait. Once they got to Mandalore, he'd get his own set made, then maybe trace the old owner via the faded clan sigils on the helmet and return it.
He sighed, not bothering to disguise his dislike for the idea, shrugged, and said, "I guess it'll do. I'll get my own later." May whatever unlucky chakaare that owned this before me find his rest in the Manda.
After he had gone into the other room and locked the door, he picked up the flightsuit; black meant justice, he thought with approval, and it was a color he decided to keep once he got his own. His Jedi robes he folded and, after a few seconds of reflection, left them under the bed; he wouldn't need them anymore.
Changing his mind, he took them back out. No sense in leaving clues all over the place, and it was probably better to destroy the evidence. He pulled on a pair of black gription coated gloves, took his and Meraven's lightsabers out, and put them on the bed. Removing his boots, he pulled out two brand-new Westar-34 blaster pistols encased in black leather holsters, and placed them next to the lightsabers on the bed. He had taken them once he sensed the Temple was under attack. They were his only other possessions besides the lightsabers. He'd bought them without his master's knowledge, and kept them with him since…
He suddenly realized that he'd always wanted to get away to Mandalore. One other Jedi had done it, a short time before; Bardan Jusik, who had left with two Mandos named Kal Skirata and Walon Vau, or so he'd heard. He made a mental note to find them when he got there; Jusik would be sure to understand their situation. He was probably in hiding himself.
He gathered up the weapons from the bed and walked out. The others were where he'd left them, but they, too, had changed into their new clothes. Reyzeb still was not entirely happy with being Jenyin's "Female Companion" and they continued their discourse, as Prymax proceeded to put on the armor on plate by plate, starting with his legs and torso. He holstered the blasters on his thigh plates and hooked the two lightsabers on the equipment belt. This would add to his image; no one would expect a trophy-taking Mando who had obviously killed at least two Jedi to be a Jedi himself.
After finishing with the armor, he checked his weapons. On the belt, several power pack pouches for the blasters, which he filled; a small grappling hook attached to the end of a thin fibercord; stun grenades; thermal detonators with a pouch filled with detonite clay, thermal tape, dets, and other demolition tools; emergency rations to last a week; a series of security blades in a small pouch, a lock overriding system; and a data breaker. This was turning out to be quite useful…
Each boot held a tiny hold-out blaster, and each gauntlet concealed two knives. A wrist laser was built into the right arm, and next to the barrel of laser was a small winch-operated fibercord whip with another grappling hook. He swung on the jetpack, strapping it tightly, and carefully hooked the fuel line into the miniature flame projector nozzle port on his left arm. The Kelvarex mini concussion rocket launcher beneath it would fire either the anti-personnel or the stun rocket.
On the top of the jetpack was another rocket, a Merr-Sonn 1126. He whistled softly in admiration; those things packed a punch, and cost a fortune… he certainly had made the right choice to take the armor, pride or not.
He glanced down at his kneepads; they contained small dart launchers for Malkite themfar, FEX-M3, molecular acid, stun agents, or explosive tips: an impressive array indeed. Quite satisfied that he'd found all the weapons on his armor, he reached down and picked up the last piece of the set, the helmet.
The Mandos and clones called it their "bucket" or, in Mando'a, buy'ce. He placed it over his head, and sealed the collar with a hiss. He looked over at a tiny red light in the upper right-hand corner and rapidly blinked twice. His field of vision came alive with flashing lights and read-outs, and beeps and chimes filled his ears as his heads-up display, or HUD, came online.
A nauseating dizzy sensation washed over him as his vision changed to 360 degrees. He swayed and almost fell, then let the force guide him, and tried a few steps. After the initial stumbles, he managed to walk almost as well as a drunkard.
"If you keep it on for a while, you'll get used to it," Alanti commented. His 360 degree vision enabled him to see her laughing at his drunken steps from behind his back. He smiled and realized just how useful all-around vision would be.
Having always used the force to achieve a somewhat "360 degree" view of his surroundings, now actually seeing it wasn't all that different. He had a helmet of his own back at the temple – it had been borrowed two years ago from the Archives for "long-term study" and never returned - so he'd had some experience wearing one. He stamped his armored boots, jumped up and down, rotated his neck to test the seal, and swung his arms through a full range of motion to check the armor.
Jenyin – no, Jalek gave a start when the blades in Atin's gauntlets shot out with a satisfying "shing" sound. There were twin retractable vibroblades on the tops and three short, squarish blades that ejected out of the sides. He retracted them, and made sure all his weapons were within easy reach. All the blink-operated controls were working, as well as the range-finder. The various views the helmet possessed - targeting system, night, thermal, and electronic filters - were all in good shape.
This is perfect, he thought. He glanced over the full suit of armor. Beskar was an extremely hard metal, harder than durasteel, or any other man-made metals. It was even able to withstand a direct hit from a starfighter's cannon, and, with a vacuum-sealed flight suit, it made a Mando'ad virtually invincible. It was truly perfect.
"Glad it suits you," Alanti smiled at him. There was strange look in her eyes, though, as if she was in pain, looking at her friend's armor on someone else. Prymax took off the helmet, and the look passed. "I'll see if I can fix it up for you tomorrow; maybe add some paint and polish."
"Gold, if you can manage," he suggested.
"Right. Alright, children, enough dress-up for today. It's bedtime. I'll be in the main room, if you need me."
She walked out of the room, but stopped at the doorway to ask, "You didn't answer my question earlier; where am I taking you?"
"Mandalore," Atin answered shortly.
"I thought so." She left the room, followed closely by Reyzeb, and closed the door so that the two boys could have privacy.
They didn't say a word to each other, but silently changed back into their Jedi robes – probably for the last time – and climbed into bed, each preoccupied with his own thoughts.
Staring into the darkness, Prymax's thoughts turned from the path ahead to the home he had left behind. The names and faces flashed through his mind: Ali-Alann, Cin Drallig, Olana Chion, Serra Keto, Tru Veld – their blood stained the Temple's floors. His closest friends and sparring partners, Zett Jukassa and Whie Malreaux, were among them. He had watched as Meraven, always the first in action, was cut down by the traitor's hand. All that was left of her was her weapon, entrusted to him along with the lives of his remaining friends. The names of those he knew and loved and the places he had once walked, but would never walk again, throbbed painfully in his head, a death knell that could never be quieted.
He realized Jenyin was thinking the same things as well, when he heard muffled sobs coming from his friend's sleep couch. As tears stung his own eyes and sorrow welled up in his heart, Prymax drifted off into a fitful sleep.