I'm sure you're asking yourself "How the hell did Eshe, the Jedi Exile, end up in a sack with Zuka, the Mandalorian tech?". Well, here's the story.

It had started something like this:

He had been sitting at the bar of the cantina in the Deralian spaceport, debating whether to down the rest of the contents or simply wait until closing time to finish what he was spending his last few credits on. It's not like he had anywhere to go- the hut'uune he had been shipping with, had left him on this rock nearly a week ago. They were probably under the impression that he had died from the beating they gave him; like most di'kute, they failed to take into account his regenerative implants and left him alive instead of properly finishing the job.

And they called themselves Mandalorian. Even a ge'verd like himself, who prefered fixing and building things to fighting, and whose thoughts were more in Basic than Mando'a, was more a Mandalorian than those aruetiise.

Sadly, it seemed like the aruetiise where in the majority these days; the Mado'ad seemed to have disintegrated into nothingness, and all that was left were mercenaries so bored out of their skulls they'd do any job their bosses threw at them with enthusiasm, no matter how dishonorable, and the Ba'buire who wallowed in the Taungsarang and lusted for battles such as would never again be fought.

And him. Zuka, the clanless mechanic.

The bartender- a sentient whose ancestors had belonged to so many species it was difficult to tell what gender it was- slide a jug over to his seat. He shot her a questioning look.

"On the house," it said, pointing what he had assumed was a ponytail, but was, apparently, a hairy lekku over to a table in the corner; it was inhabited by a skinny human woman of about thirty. He shrugged, and picked up the drink, sniffing at it suspiciously. Much to his surprise, the nearly forgotten smell of behot-laced tihaar wafted up from the drink.

"Thanks," he grunted, and leaving the money for the drink he'd brought, went to go sit down at the table were the woman was.

She barely looked up as he took the seat across from her, giving him a brief nod in greeting before turning back to her datapad. Zuka sat with her in silence for a while, savoring his ale and studying her. He doubted she was Mandalorian; no woman of any clan would be caught dead that underweight unless they died of starvation, but still...

"Su'cuy?" he tried.

"Don't sound so disappointed," she muttered in Basic without looking up. "I'm fairly difficult to kill."

Zuka thought that was unlikely, but then again, the double-bladed vibrosword strapped across her back might not be just for show. And there was something to be said for the way she held herself... it reminded him dimly of the something he'd spotted watching an enemy encampment during the wars.

"Thanks for the ale," he said, switching over to Basic.

She raised one emaciated arm and gave a dismissive wave. "Don't mention it. You looked like you needed a nice strong drink."

Zuka snorted. "I don't think I look bad enough to warrant however much this cost. How do they even have tihaar here?"

She shrugged, and placed her datapad face down on the table. "It's Deralia; the Mandalorian sector is less than three light-years away, as the mynock flies. Besides, you wouldn't believe the osik that comes from here."

Zuka stared at her for a moment. Her pronunciation of Mando'a was only slightly flatter than how the droten of Ordo would speak, and again, he was reminded of the Wars; many of the higher-ranking jetiise officers spoke with much the same accent.

"Duraani, burc'ya?" she asked. And suddenly it clicked.

"Jetii!" he exclaimed, reverting back to Mando'a in his shock.

"Dar'jetii," she corrected. "In the literally translated sense rather than the more common one, thank you very much."

He glared at her. She raised an eyebrow. "Don't look at me like that- I did buy you a drink, you know."

Zuka looked at his now empty jug, then back at the Jedi. "Why?"

The woman snorted. "Why not? You look like you needed it, and I make it my business to help out my fellow vets whenever I have the means."

"We didn't fight on the same side," he pointed out.

The woman snorted. "I thought Mandalorians weren't supposed to hold grudges? The war's over, and if even half the rumors are true, then both our people were scattered by it. Why perpetuate the problem?"

Zuka smiled bitterly. That was one of the reasons why he liked fussing with his droids and power relays better than battle; when they died, no matter how original or unique they'd been, you could always find the right components to put a droid back together again. He supposed their respective cultures could be similarly reconstructed, but that would taken a long time- decades, a century even. He'd be long past his prime by then, way too old to enjoy even the turret, mine, and grenade construction he'd excelled at during the Wars.

"So... what have you been up to since the end of the War? Pulling arms off children and burning random hovels?" she asked.

"Shh, beroyar," he answered lightly, deciding to take her words as a joke rather than an insult. "Or at least, I was bounty hunting until my clan decided that they'd rather go after the high-paying joy-girl retrievals rather than any challenging work, and dumped me here. I suppose you've been rescuing stranded kittens and using the Force to cheat at pazaak?"

"No one with my skills needs to use the Force to cheat at pazaak," she boasted, "And I'm doing anything that takes me along the Outer Rim- or at least I was until my ship crashed Now I'm stuck here until I figure out how to fix my hyperdrive."

"Don't they have any mechanics on Deralia?" he asked, the beginnings of an idea forming in his mind.

"Yeah. But every since Czerka tried to come back, and there was the big huge space battle, all their military ships have gotten state-sanctioned priority. Earliest I can squeeze mine in is about three months from now," she informed him glumly. "I don't suppose you have any prowess with a hydrospanner?"

"As a matter of fact, hydrospanners are my weapon of choice," he proclaimed. "How much you offering for the job?"

"I can only afford about two hundred credits right now, but I'll throw in all the parts, tools, and meals you'll need," she offered.

Zuka frowned; that was just barely enough to make it worth his while.

"Of course, there could be more if you're willing to consider a more long-term partnership," she began hesitantly. "I tend to get into trouble like this more often than I care to admit to, and it'd be nice to have someone whose repair and computer skills were better than my own to help me get out of it."

Zuka mulled that over. It sounded good enough. "What sort of work would we be doing?"

"Spacing. Smuggling. Scouting. Maybe a little bit of bounty hunter work if I can find someone to pay who doesn't work for the Sith, the Republic, or the Exchange."

"What do you have against those?" Zuka asked, surprised. What with this New Sith War, the two most lucrative buyers would be the Republic and the Sith, and the Exchange never ran out of people to put on its shit list. Granted, those were mostly impoverished debtors and escaped joy-girls, but still...

"Too risky to work for either the Sith or the Republic. I guarantee you that someone would recognize me sooner or later, and then neither one of us would have a moment's peace. The Exchange, I avoid simply on principle; interplanetary slavery doesn't sit well with me. You game?"

She stuck out her hand. Zuka eyed it. "Not so fast, vod'ika. Before I agree to anything, we need to get a few things straight."

"Such as?"

"Pay, for starters. How are we splitting it?"

"You get forty-five percent, I get fifty-five."

Zuka snorted. "Not a chance."

"Oh come on now, be reasonable, vod. I'm supplying the ship after all."

"Which won't fly unless I fix it."

"Which won't fly soon unless you fix it."

"Do you really want to wait three months?"

"Fair enough," she conceded. "Fifty-fifty."

"Works for me. So I fix the ship, you fly the ship... who's cooking and cleaning the ship?"

"I'll cook," she said quickly. "Can't keep things tidy to save my life."

Zuka nodded, secretly relieved. While all Mandalorians were supposed to be able to cook as well as they fought, that wasn't really the case, even with him. His food rivaled only Luteola Fett's in terms of number of warriors it felled with cramps and bowel sickness.

"And who decides what jobs we take?"

"We either agree, or we don't do it," she said promptly.

"No offense, but I doubt you and I will agree very often, jetii," he pointed out.

"Then you can take the jobs you want, and keep the profit, as long as they're small and I don't end up having to charge into some stronghold to rescue you."

Zuka shrugged. It sounded fair enough to him. "Don't expect me to rescue you either. I don't do hero work."

"I don't blame you. Being a hero's a big pain in the shebs," she said emphatically.

"What sort of ship are we flying in?"

"Standard small-time freighter; two mid-sized cargo holds in the aft, a smaller one in the mid, and three bunks off the cockpit. Refresher's a decent size though. Name's Dauntless."

"Any dividers between bunks?"

"Nope. Worried about your virtue?" she mocked.

"Worried about yours," he shot back.

"Don't bother; it's past retail value."

He raised an eyebrow. "Don't Jedi have a 'no sex' rule?"

"I'm exiled. And I don't care. Don't Mandalorians have a 'no sex outside of marriage' rule?"

"My clan threw me out. Can't say I care all that much either."

They regarded each other for a moment, and then, tilting her head to one side, she said "I guess that means we can not care together, then."

Zuka looked her over again. She still seemed too thin to his eyes, but he doubted she would break, and given the size of her frame she was generously proportioned in all the areas that mattered. "I'll need to know your name."

"Eshe Jivala," she stuck out her hand.

"Zuka..." he stopped. He could hardly say Zuka Mirdala anymore. Clan Mirdala, he feared, was dead forever. "Zuka Nu'alitt"

"Nice to meet you, Zuk'ika. Now, let's go tend to that ship of ours."

The two departed, leaving the cantina without a second thought.

Mando'a Translations for Those of You Who Are Less Geeky Than I

hut'uune cowards

di'kute dickwads

ge'verd almost warrior

aruetiise outsiders

Mado'ad Mandalorian

Ba'buire Grandfathers/Elders

Taungsarang Ashes of the Taung

behot a root with antiseptic and stimulate properties

tihaar fruity alcoholic drink

Su'cuy? friendly greeting (literally: so you're still alive?"

droten people

jetiise Republic

osik shit

Duraani, burc'ya? You looking at me funny, pal?

Jetii Jedi

Dar'jetii Dark, or fallen Jedi (literally: no longer a Jedi)

Shh, beroyar Nah, bounty hunting

vod'ika comrade (familiar form)

vod comrade (formal form)

shebs ass

Mirdala Mando'a for clever; appropriated as a clan name here

Nu'alitt no family/ no clan

On another note: Does anyone here know where I can find a good Star Wars beta? Thanks in advance.