Jennet
Mira, Visas, and Ladria joined me shortly after Canderous escorted me to the Phoenix to change. What I had intended as a quick change ended up the better part of an hour of female primping and speculative chatting about the ceremony.
"The Helm…was it really glowing?" Mira asked as she wiggled out of her tight pants and reached for her outfit that was hanging from a hook on the back of the door. I hadn't seen what she was wearing for the reception before; in the quick glance I gave it as I stripped off armor, tunic, boots and pants it looked both expensive and slinky.
"Yeah," I said, still bemused by it. "It was."
"Why?" she asked, engulfed by amber material swirling around her.
"Best I could tell, it was connecting the Mandoa to us," I said, slipping my own dress over my head. It was cut rather lower than I usually wear in the front, and I eyed my meager bosom compared to Mira's bounty and sighed. But the ice blue fabric draped pleasingly from my shoulders, dipping low enough so my locket wasn't competing with the neckline. It was sleeveless, so the Ordo tattoo on my upper right arm was displayed to its best advantage. It was still a little bit of a shock to catch a glimpse of it in the mirror while I was dressing.
"All of them, yes?" Visas asked, her tone not really a question. "Everywhere?"
"Yes," I said, looking at her. She was already out of her battle robes and into a dress the same dark red, demure in cut but clingy enough in material that her figure was set off marvelously. She'd even traded her head-shrouding hood for a decorative veil across her eyes of opaque material attached with delicate golden chains cleverly tucked into her hair. With a shock I realized it was the first time I'd seen Visa's hair. It was a lovely, rich deep brown, nearly black, pulled up into a knot on the top of her head with abundant curls spilling down that could only be natural; I knew the signs. It must be long too; the curls reached past her shoulders. "You look beautiful, Visas."
"Thank you," she said, looking pleased, her faintly olive skin flushed with pleasure. "How many do you think there are?" she asked curiously.
"Thousands," I said, shrugging. "Well over the fifteen thousand Canderous told me he estimated were alive. He said he knew personally of around five thousand, it's closer to six now, but what we felt….I would only be shooting in the dark to guess. But they'll come."
"That was one of the most amazing things I've ever witnessed," Ladria said quietly, smoothing the emerald green material of her dress in place.
It was cut similarly to mine, simple and comfortable, the skirt deceptively straight until you moved. The color made her green eyes stand out and her dark red hair burn with a bright flame. She wasn't much taller than me, and was similarly built; small boned, slim hipped, smallish bosom. She had opted for gold sandals with almost no heel, and I had liked them so much I bought a pair myself in silver. She shook out my cape that I had carelessly tossed on the bed, and began to attach it to the shoulders of my dress.
"Yeah," Mira said, with a final wiggle to settle the folds of silk into place.
I gaped at her. Ladria and Visas looked regal and beautiful as always, even if it was a little bit of a shock to see them in party clothes. But Mira was stunning. Her short copper hair was pulled back from her face, rather than carelessly flopping over her forehead and into her eyes as usual. The thick locks had been coaxed into loose curls that caught the light in shades of amber, gold, russet, copper, brass, and deep auburn. She was wearing an amber silk two piece gown, the top a sleeveless, one shoulder number that clung just below the bust line. The skirt started below the navel, sarong-style, and sandals exactly the same shade peeped out. A closer inspection showed that it wasn't two pieces; a nearly invisible sheer netlike material blended almost perfectly with her skin, shimmering when the light caught it right. I stared a second, and grinned.
"You still can't see the tattoo," I commented. "Turn around."
Mira obliged, giving us a dramatic model's turn and I eyed her critically. The skirt stayed decent as she twirled, thank the Gods, even if it did show quite a bit of leg. Dax was going to have his hands full tonight. It was a dress that inspires riots.
"Nope," I concluded. "Still can't see it. But you look gorgeous, Mira. Dax will go crazy."
"Thanks," she said, smiling.
She pulled the split side of her skirt aside, hiking up the fabric to show a credit-sized tattoo in reds, blues, and golds high on her right hip. I peered closer, trying to make out its shape. After a moment, it made sense.
"It's Mandoa for good fortune," I said, surprised. "The lettering is much more fancy than any self respecting Mandalorian would use, though."
"Yeah, well, it's the hide in plain sight tactic," Mira said, shrugging. "I designed it so it simply looked decorative. But it's worked; I've had good luck ever since, mostly."
"Really?" I said skeptically, thinking of the Wookie that had hunted her, among other things.
"I'm here now," she said, eyes suspiciously bright. "I have friends, I'm Jedi, and I have a man that adores me, smart mouth, temper, kick ass fighter and all."
"What's a resurrected Wookie compared to that?" I laughed, and hugged her.
"Damn straight," Mira agreed.
"You go on," Ladria said to me, making shooing motions. "We'll tidy up and get our things back to the Hawk."
"If you're sure," I said politely, but was heading to the hatch almost as the words were out of her mouth.
"Don't keep the groom waiting!" Mira called. "We'll catch up."
I waved over my shoulder and hurried to the ramp. I stepped down the walkway and peered into the gloom, blinking. Two dark shapes were standing about halfway from the Phoenix to the torchlight of the party that quickly resolved themselves into Canderous and Jarxel as my eyes adjusted. I saw Jarxel clap my husband on the arm and walk off and Canderous start walking toward me. I met him halfway and he swung me off the ground, kissing me thoroughly.
"You look beautiful, cyar'ika," he said when we came up for air.
"You clean up nice yourself," I said, eyes shining. "What was that about?" I asked, nodding after the retreating XO.
"A lot of things," he said, looking bemused. He tucked my arm through his and we started toward the party as he explained. I have to say that mental communication saves a ton of time filling in blanks.
"So Jarxel's a Seer?" I said, as bemused as Canderous. "Interesting. Explains a lot."
"Exactly what I thought. Sort of makes me wonder how in control of things I have been all along," he rumbled ruefully.
"He didn't direct you, just watched your back," I pointed out. "As he said, it wasn't as if he knew the whole of it until now."
"Yeah, I know you're right. Just a hell of a lot to assimilate today."
"You think?" I said with a chuckle. "Sith warship, Bastila's betrayal, a funeral, a wedding, the rise Clan Ordo. And a baby on the way," I added softly.
"Yes," was all he said, but his face lit and his arm moved from his side to my stomach. "She'll be a beautiful and deadly as her mother."
"Thanks," I said, trying desperately not to giggle and failing. "That's high praise."
The next hour was spent receiving our guests, and then we were free to circulate. Everyone was enjoying the double celebration of victory over the Sith and the wedding and the ale was flowing freely. Within two hours, almost no one was completely sober. Republic and Mandalorian alike were cheerfully mingling and the conversations were loud and enthusiastic. I caught snippets of everything from battle tactics to fashion, depending on the participants. A good many of the female soldiers were openly admiring the Mandalorian males in their dress uniforms, and being ogled in return.
The honor guard had been dismissed to enjoy the celebration as they saw fit, so it was a bit of a concern at first when Jarxel and all six approached Canderous and me as a group. We had taken a minute to stand together near the alter and watch the crowd, laughing together at some of the antics we were witnessing.
"Mandalore," Jarxel said formally, and bowed to us. "Lady. As your executive officer, I would request permission to be the first to receive my tattoo."
"Your -," Canderous stopped, and swallowed. "Granted," he said, his voice gruff, "on one condition. You may not ink it over your original."
"It shouldn't be below any other badge," Jarxel pointed out. "And there's no room to put it above. I suppose it could be on my left arm," he said doubtfully.
"Put it here," Canderous said suddenly, placing his hand over Jarxel's heart. "Where the Clan lives."
Jarxel smiled, a bright genuine expression that transformed his face from craggy gruffness to almost handsome. "Aye," he said, so softly that only Canderous and I heard it. "Clan Ordo has always been there for me."
"New age, new traditions," he said louder, and the honor guard nodded. "As the Mandalore says, so shall it be."
A brief discussion decided the order of who would receive the tattoo. As my Champion, Dax would be second, followed by Kelborn, Kex, Xarga, Zuka, and Tagren. Jarxel promised to make up a roster of everyone by rank to follow.
"I want this strictly voluntary," Canderous insisted. "No one will be forced."
"That isn't going to be an issue," Jarxel said positively, grinning. "It's been the most common question all night."
"What's the second?" I asked curiously.
"What the baby's name is," he answered promptly. "Tied with how long will it be before you two leave the party. There's bets going around; pool's up to five thousand credits."
Canderous whistled. "That's a tidy sum."
Jarxel and the others bowed and melted back into the thick of the party. I saw Dax head straight to Mira, who he had hardly let out of his sight since she had made her appearance. She was surrounded by a group of admirers, split about even between Mandalorian and Republic soldiers, but her eyes tracked Dax as he approached. He strode up, handsome and authoritive, kissed her senseless and swept her off to parts unknown, the rejected hopefuls staring after, clearly disappointed.
I was about to suggest we go celebrate privately when Mission, Carth, and Jolee approached, the Twi'lik clutching a fabric-wrapped bundle.
"It's a wedding gift," she announced, handing it to me. "We all contributed, both crews of the Ebon Hawk. And Stefan, when I showed it to him. I put it together."
As I started to unwrap the bulky package, I saw all our friends drifting our way, Mira towing Dax along, Visas escorted by Jarxel. They grouped around, grinning as the cloth fell away. It was a holo album, thick and heavy, and on the first page, everyone had written a short message along side an image of themselves. There were even holos of T-3, and HK-47. Go-to was noticeably missing and I mentioned this.
"He disappeared after we escaped Malachor V," Ladria said, shrugging. "I think T-3 saw him go, but won't say when or how."
"Good riddance," Atton said with a touch of a growl.
Someone snagged me and Canderous chairs, and I spread the unwieldy album between us, flipping through the pages. I was delighted at the effort Mission had made. She had not only tracked down the images, but artistically arranged them so each double page told a sort of story, with little embellishments added here and there. There were pictures of the entire Star Forge mission crew and I saw Revan for the first time, smiling at Carth and a much younger looking Mission in the common area of the Ebon Hawk. I don't know what I had expected her to look like, but I was struck by how ordinary she seemed. All three were standing, and she appeared to be only a few centimeters taller than Ladria, just about reaching Carth's chin, with long brown-blond hair braided down her back. She was fair skinned, and very pretty in a wholesome sort of way. I activated the holo, and watched her animatedly talk to her friends, then walk out of the frame. She moved like a warrior, that was certain.
There were several pages along the same lines and on the last set of these I started to laugh so hard I almost fell out of my chair. Jarxel peered over my shoulder and joined in. Canderous was making a half-hearted attempt to snatch the album away and close it but I held it firm. The last image on the page was of Canderous, sitting on a folding chair in the garage. He was obviously fast asleep with his chin resting on his chest and his arms folded across his middle, hands clasped together, long legs stretched in front of him, ankles crossed. I'd seen him sleep like this a hundred times, simply catching rest when the moment presented itself. What had made me laugh was the gizka curled at his feet, nose on stubby tail, and another one resting its chin on his boots, also clearly snoozing. A third was under his chair, looking quizzically out of the picture.
"Well, Mandalore," Jarxel said through the gusts of merriment, "your reputation's shot."
"Mission, I think I'm going to kill you. Slowly," Canderous growled, glaring at her.
"Give it your best shot, C-man," Mission said, with an impish grin.
"I love it," I announced. "I think I'll have this one blown up and displayed in the receiving hall. Right behind the Mandalore's chair."
"Now that's just evil, Wildcat," Canderous protested, but I saw the gleam of humor in his eyes. "How can I dispense justice with this over my head?"
"Okay," I allowed. "Not in the receiving hall. I'll keep it in my office."
"Your private office," he glowered. "And not enlarged."
"Oh all right, ti kar'ta," I said with a mock grumble.
We looked through the rest of the book, everyone grouped around and getting in each other's way as they competed to catch the first glimpse of the next page. There were holos that had been taken well before I had joined the group on the Ebon Hawk; Visas meditating, Disciple in the med lab, Ladria and Atton in the cockpit, Mira cleaning her rocket launcher in the common room, Bao Dur tinkering with the engines, Probe hovering nearby. There was one of Kriea, seated cross-legged in the dorm, obviously deep in meditation and unaware of being observed. I was surprised at this, and looked up at Mission.
"Ladria insisted that be included," she said, shrugging.
"Memories are important," Ladria said softly. "Hiding them never is a good idea."
I nodded, and moved on to the next page. There was an image of Canderous as a young man, probably right after a battle, standing between a much younger Jarxel and another man who must be Calder. The resemblance to his brother was startling.
"Where the fuck did you find this?" Canderous exclaimed, but obviously answering his own question, twisted to stare up at Jarxel.
"It's the only holo of you and Calder that survived," he said gruffly. "I had it on me, with this one," he pointed to the one on the next page.
It was a family group, Jarxel with a striking dark-haired woman, surrounded by five boys of varying ages. Canderous was on the end, hand on the shoulder of the oldest boy. No one was smiling, but they looked happy, somehow.
"I remember it was Mother who took this," Canderous mused. "Just before they left to speak to the Mandalore. You insisted I be in the picture."
"I wanted one of my family," Jarxel said simply. "To take with me. I kept the one of us with Calder for you."
Tactfully, sensing both were dangerously close to sentimental breakthroughs, I tuned another page. The next few were of my family, less of a shock as I still had my own album I'd retrieved from the lockbox tucked into my nightstand drawer. But many were images I hadn't seen before, my parents as children, with a fair-haired boy that could only be Stefan almost always in the picture. Their wedding day, Stefan proudly standing next to my father, my mother shining with happiness. Me as a baby, being held by Dad over his head and laughing up at me. One with Dad and I sparring, my blades crossed with his, faces tense with concentration. I was about ten, I thought. Mom and I in a field, her arm around me and smiling, my hair loose down my back and getting in my eyes. A teenage Stefan, leggy and coltish, awkwardly posed by an unfamiliar Jedi and an equally young Drake Jax. I sniffled discretely at the memories and moved along.
The last few pages were mostly of Canderous and me with various friends, taken on the sly, mostly by Atton I assumed. Dax looming over me, serious expression on his face, in front of the mess hall. Bao Dur and Canderous in the garage, bent over the workbench and pieces of armor scattered around. The two of us at an unguarded moment, outside the Ebon Hawk, his arm around me, smiling down into my upturned face. And to my shock, the kiss he'd taken in forfeit after our fight. I looked up accusingly.
"I couldn't resist," Atton shrugged. "Figured it would make good blackmail material."
"You are a sneaky bastard," I said without heat. Canderous, amazingly, didn't say a word, just touched it briefly with one finger and nodded at Atton.
"Thank you, everyone," I said, tears threatening to spill. Disciple and Stefan both flourished handkerchiefs and I grabbed one at random. "It's the best gift imaginable."
Canderous stood, closed the album and tucked it under his arm. He took my hand and helped me to my feet.
"Thanks for everything," he rumbled. "Now I'm going to take my wife back to our ship."
"Good," Atton said gleefully. "That means I won the betting pool."
"Don't spend it all in one place," Canderous advised.
And we walked into our future, hand in hand.