Jay's Apartment, Keldabe, two weeks later…
Jay was curled up comfortably on the couch, Denton's arm around her shoulders as they both settled in for the evening HoloNet broadcasts. The news was first, and a very familiar story was airing. On the screen, an attractive Mirialan woman was reporting on the Taung delegation that had just arrived in the city from the Werda Kurs Ranger outposts.
"The leader of the Jungle Clans, Werd'cetara Ca'burcyan, appeared with Mandalore Fenn Shysa today," the reporter was saying, "and delivered an inspiring message of peaceful cooperation between his ancient people and their more modern counterparts."
The image cut to video of the press conference that had taken place that afternoon. A crowd of spectators gathered around a platform where Werd, Shysa, Tobbi Dala, and other Mandalorian political figures were gathered. Holocams flashed like strobe lights, and the Taung winced at all the commotion. He otherwise looked undisturbed, though Jay could only imagine how confusing modern life must have seemed for him.
Since his arrival, Werd had been given a brand new set of MandalMotors' finest armor, polished to a healthy sheen and colored a deep green, as a gift of friendship. Draped across one shoulder was a heavy black cloak – a symbol of his stature as leader of the Jungle Clans – and he had his old, rough-hewn beskad sheathed on his belt. His hands were linked behind his back, his chin raised regally as he spoke to the crowd.
He spoke in Mando'a as usual, though the news channel thankfully added subtitles for the benefit of the foreigners watching the broadcast.
"Your world," the Taung rumbled, "is a most unfamiliar place to me. Though I have been told that my people are your cultural ancestors, many among the Jungle Clans have lost touch with this shared past. They have given in to savagery and superstition. But I am confident that with time and patience – and the cooperation of both my people and yours – we can come to a lasting peace that will be of benefit to all."
A resounding cheer went up at his words. Mandalorians everywhere were jubilant at the news that their ancestor race was not actually extinct. It was cause for celebration across the planet: the beings that had founded their culture were alive and well, still living among them! Jay could only imagine what it must be like.
On the screen, Shysa now stepped forward. He was holding a wrapped object in his hands, cradling it like a newborn child.
"The revelation of the Taung's survival," the Mand'alor said, his voice carrying across the crowd, "is joyous news to our people. Yet what little history we share is already mired in blood an' death. That cannot stand. We are brothers and sisters! Vode an! An' we must come to realize that, now more than ever."
He turned to Werd amid roaring cheers from the crowd. He stepped toward the alien, who still managed to tower over his lanky frame. Shysa bowed his head in respect and held out the bundle in his hands.
"Let this gift be the first of many signs of cooperation between our great peoples."
Werd narrowed his eyes, but slowly took the bundle from Shysa's hands. Unwrapping it with tender, cautious movements, he widened his eyes when he saw just what the Mandalore had given him. He let the wrappings fall to the stage at his feet and raised the gift into the air.
Cradled between his hands was a battle mask, styled like those of the old Neo-Crusaders. It was an ovular, convex plate of metal that sported the iconic Mandalorian T-visor. Painted in white across the helmet forehead was the fearsome Jaig eyes that had adorned Werd's old armor.
The Taung warrior's voice was so quiet, the holocam receptors could barely pick it up.
"You honor me, great Mand'alor," he murmured.
Shysa's voice was similarly quiet. "You honor yourself. When all your brothers an' sisters were butcherin' mine, you were one of the few to press for peace."
He saluted Werd, snapping his fist to his chest and bowing his head. "You showed bravery, fortitude, an' conviction in your decisions; all trademarks of a true Mando'ad."
Werd slowly brought the mask to his face. The holocams picked up a hiss of air as it pressure sealed over the craggy edges of his head, joining with the synthleather cowl he now wore. Within moments he was transformed, looking like a Neo-Crusader newly risen from the grave.
"With this gift," the Taung called, raising a single fist, "I promise to forge a lasting alliance between our great peoples, to the benefit of all!"
Another cheer, louder than any before. Werd seemed to revel in it, throwing his head back and roaring, "Kote par Manda'yaim! Glory for Mandalore!"
The crowd echoed his words and he roared again. "Kote par an! Glory for all!"
Next to her, Denton chuckled. "Well, the big guy certainly makes for dramatic viewing. Fifty credits says he's offered a movie deal before this is over."
Jay laughed and snuggled closer. "I'll take that action."
The crowd again mirrored Werd's cry before the broadcast cut back to the reporter. She folded her green-skinned hands with a practiced brush of her hair and continued her story.
"The jubilation of the Taung's reappearance was not shared by some. The controversial Mandalorian isolationist and cult leader, Norac Benz, was released from the medcenter today. And while he gave no comment as to the events that transpired in the jungle, sources have revealed that he was implicated in a plot to kill the Taung and sabotage the peace talks in retaliation for Taung violence against Ranger forces."
The reporter paused a moment before continuing, and a picture of a very angry-looking Norac Benz appeared over her shoulder. "It is unclear at this time whether Taung would be considered legal citizens under the tenets of the Supercommando Codex, and currently a council of experts has convened to amend the Codex in light of this new discovery. If the amendment is passed and the Taung are protected under the Codex's rules, Benz and his followers could face exile or execution for murdering fellow Mandalorians."
Jay gasped quietly. "What? They wouldn't do that, would they?"
Denton shrugged. "It's possible. The Codex is very clear: Mandos don't kill other Mandos. The Death Watch uprisings proved how desperately we need people to follow that law."
"But… I mean, I'm not agreeing with what he did," she said, choosing her words carefully, "but he was only trying to do what he thought was best for his people. He was avenging the Rangers who had been kidnapped and killed!"
"With all the celebration at the Taung's return," Denton said, "I don't think many people are going to see it that way."
Jay sighed and settled herself against his chest again. She frowned, still disturbed at the thought of such a severe punishment. Benz had acted rashly, violently, and irresponsibly, but he didn't deserve death.
Personally, she thought, getting shot twice by your best friend is more than enough punishment. It was easy to see how much Tervho hurt him – physically and otherwise.
She shook her head sadly and turned her attention back to the holo screen. The news anchor was continuing with her report.
"Norac Benz's punishment thus far," the Mirialan continued, "has been noticeably severe already. In a special worldwide announcement, Mandalore Shysa announced that Benz and his Berserkers have lost their seat on the Council of Clans, and have been stripped of all citizenship rights until further notice. The Berserkers will face individual charges that will be tailored to their respective roles in disobeying the Mandalore's orders for peace."
The reporter folded her hands with a neutral smile. "More on this story as it develops."
The program switched to ads, and Jay instantly tuned out. She frowned, staring off into space as she murmured, "So what does that mean? What happens when a Mandalorian is stripped of citizenship?"
"It's not pretty," Denton said. "The entire clan has been blacklisted. It's only a half-step up from being declared dar'manda; Benz and his people are still Mandos, but only barely. Right now, their names have been marked with dishonor. They'll have to prove themselves to the Mand'alor and their people to regain the respect they lost."
"And if they fail?"
"Then they'll live and die in dishonor, outcasts of society." He grimaced. "There have been clans who have gone generations before gaining their honor back. It's not a light punishment."
Jay shook her head. "I can only imagine how pissed Benz must be right now."
"He'll keep his temper in check if he knows what's good for him," Denton assured her. "I don't think his clan can afford any more trouble."
Jay sighed, staring at the holo screen. A sinking feeling had settled over her heart. Shysa may have made a terrible mistake; Benz was useful, but only as long as he was allied with the Mandalorians. In treating him so harshly, Shysa may have driven the Berserkers into the arms of someone far worse.
Denton nudged her shoulder. "Hey, cheer up. Now that the Taung are pushing for peace, things'll only get better from here. You'll see."
Jay wasn't so convinced. She just turned her attention back to the screen and murmured, "I hope you're right."
Keldabe City Spaceport
"You are fidgeting."
Vhetin hadn't realized he was bouncing nervously up and down on the balls of his feet. He quickly stilled and hooked his arms behind his back, waiting for the blinking landing lights of the transport to come into sight.
"You are still fidgeting."
He sighed. "All right, so I'm a little nervous. Is that such a crime?"
The Handmaiden, standing at his shoulder, flashed a rare smile. "No. If anything it is… refreshing."
"Oh?"
"For once, you are not solely focused on death, destruction, and mayhem. It is pleasing to see."
He scoffed. "Don't the Echani believe life revolves around conflict?"
"We do. But one cannot live with conflict without also living with peace. Just as there can be no light without dark, no winter without summer, so can there be no true understanding of war without an equal understanding of harmony."
She raised an eyebrow. "Or did you believe my meditation exercises were only for show?"
"Well…"
She sighed, mirroring his posture and linking her arms behind her back. "Everything in the world must be put into balance. The snows inevitably retreat in spring to give way to fresh life. Then, the cycle begins anew and the snows return. A warrior must observe this cycle in her own life and know what to do when conflict likewise retreats to give way to new life."
He was still bouncing on his heels, eyes fixed on the sky. She narrowed her eyes at him. "You are not listening to a single word, are you?"
"Not a one."
She sighed and tugged her helmet more securely over her eyes. "Mandalorians…"
They waited in silence with a small crowd of others waiting for friends or relatives on the transport. After some milling about, Vhetin glanced over at her. "So why exactly did you decide to come with me? You do realize this woman is a Mando just like I am?"
"I am aware," the Echani replied evenly. "I was simply interested to meet one of these so-called Rangers. I have heard tales of their exploits. I was… impressed."
"Oh? I never thought I'd see the day you were impressed by a Mandalorian."
"These Rangers live in the wildest, most untamed areas of the planet," the Handmaiden said. "They live the purest existence one may find in their lifetime; an existence in which every moment is a fight for simple survival."
She shrugged. "It reminded me of life on my own homeworld. My curiosity was piqued, therefore I am here."
"If you say so," he said. "Just don't expect her to share your beliefs. I don't know if she has any beef with Echani, but she may not react well to your superiority complex."
The barb was only half-sincere, and the Handmaiden responded in kind. "You mistake my disdain for you as a disdain for all your kind. The Mandalorian Warriors I despise are brutes: the mercenaries, the sellswords, the bounty hunters. If what you tell me of her is accurate, this woman is a true warrior."
She smiled smugly, to herself more than anyone else. "She may be more worthy of my respect than anyone on this planet."
He snorted. "Try to keep that in mind when you meet her. Best behavior, yeah?"
"Do you believe me to be some child?"
"No, I believe you to be a strong-willed woman with an arrogant streak a parsec wide. So try to keep that arrogance in check, at least as long as you can manage. As a personal favor to me?"
The Handmaiden opened her mouth to argue, but quickly realized it was pointless. She had neither the time nor the motivation to argue with him further. So she folded her arms across her chest and muttered, "Very well."
"Thank you," he said sincerely. Then he turned his gaze back to the night sky, waiting for the blinking lights of the transport. His heart leaped into his throat as the ship finally came into sight, coasting low over the city with a rumble.
His hands were balled into fists, body tense with anticipation as the ship glided over the landing bay and began its descent. Heavy landing struts slid from the ship's housing, hitting the bay floor with a deep boom. Coolant hissed out from the ship as it powered down, the exit ramp sliding open to release the passengers.
Vhetin's eyes raked over the small crowd of people that were disembarking. There were Mandos and aruetiise, humans and aliens, and all manner of others. Most passed him by without a second look, eager to get to their destinations.
Then he saw her. She came striding down the ramp, dressed in a leather jacket and baggy work pants. A heavy rucksack – no doubt containing her armor – was thrown over one shoulder. Her blond hair was tied into a tight braid that hung down her back.
She quickly caught sight of Vhetin and her face broke into a beautiful smile. Her pace increased as she made her way toward them and she dropped the rucksack to the ground as soon as she was close enough. She threw her arms around his shoulders and he hugged her close, an unstoppable smile plastered across his face.
"Welcome home," he murmured.
Haran'tracinya tapcaf, Keldabe
Norac Benz nursed a hefty mug of ale between his hands, refusing to meet anyone's gaze. His face – just now beginning to heal from the beating he'd received – was pulled into a dark and dangerous scowl.
The holovid player was running in the background, tuned to one of the many HoloNet news stations reporting the Taung delegation that had arrived for the peace talks. This reporter, however, seemed far more interested in Benz's clan.
"The Berserkers," the reporter was saying, "have been officially reprimanded by Mand'alor Shysa and punished for their part in complicating the peace talks. Reports indicate that Shysa has stripped the clan of all citizenship rights and placed all members on probationary watch."
Another reporter took over. "Many have reacted with anger at this news, claiming that while the Berserkers have faced a great fall in honor, the punishment was too light. One noted clanmaster was quoted saying, 'If it were any other clan, they would have been executed like the Codex orders. Why the Berserkers are so bloody important is beyond me.'"
Benz sneered and gestured to the bartender. "Reten! Turn that shit off."
"Norac—"
"Now!"
The tender sighed and switched off the screen. Some of the tapcaf's patrons groaned or cursed at Benz. None had the guts to stand up to him. He sneered deeper and hunched over his drink again.
Kriffing Shysa and his kriffing rules. He'd only ever done what he thought was best for his people. The Kar'ta Epar'e were a threat, regardless of their status as Mandalore's ancestor race. They had murdered Mandalorians, butchered and eaten them like some kind of cattle.
If Shysa truly wanted to follow the Codex, he should order the dishonor and death of that bastard Werd and his people. It was the only way to ensure no more Mandos were hurt.
He scowled even deeper and took a long swig from his mug. He drained the glass in a few deep gulps, then slammed it back down against the bar. "Reten! Another."
The bartender glared at him, but reluctantly gave him a refill. He chugged it down in a similar fashion and demanded, "Another!"
Another came with another glare. Benz ignored it.
"Bad day at work?"
He glanced over to see a woman sliding into the seat next to him. Her armor was battered and scarred, painted matte orange and yellow. She pulled her helmet off and set it on the bar next to her, revealing a gaunt, scarred face and brown hair shot through with streaks of gray.
He took one look at her and cursed under his breath. Of all the kriffing luck…
"What do you want, Reau?" he snarled.
"Whatever you're drinking, for starters," the woman said. The bartender nodded and poured her a mug of ale. She kicked it back and grimaced, wiping her mouth with the back of one hand. "Strong stuff. But after the past few weeks you've been having, I guess you've earned it."
He sneered at her. "Did you come here just to poke fun at me? If so, you can either walk out through the door or watch as I throw you out."
"You can try," said another woman's voice from his opposite side. The voice was tight and controlled, filtered through the vocoder of a helmet. He turned to see a woman in dark red armor taking a seat on his other side. "But then you'd have me to worry about."
The new woman's armor wasn't traditional Mando gear. Instead of a full helmet she wore an engraved beskar face mask. A tattered scarlet cape hung from her shoulders and a tight cowl was pulled over her head. Leaning against the bar next to her was an angular battle spear.
His lip curled. "Do I know you?"
"Sola'or Kelborn." She didn't offer him a hand. "Clanmaster Sola'or Kelborn."
"And what brings you so far north? Last I heard, you had run back to lick your wounds when you learned the Rangers had taken care of the Taung in your forest."
Kelborn said nothing. She just stared at him through her mask's T-visor.
Reau called his attention back to her. "Not all of us are happy with the outcome of the events in the jungle. Clanmaster Kelborn was in the process of gathering a hunting party together to take the fight to the Taung. As it turns out, the Rangers beat her to it and made peace before she could avenge the fallen members of her clan."
Kelborn finally spoke. "Twenty of my people were taken by those beasts. Shysa's peace treaties rob their spirits of vengeance and dishonor us all."
'You're preaching to the choir, sister," Benz growled, gesturing for another refill.
"That's why we're here," Reau said. "I've seen the reports from the Rangers, and they don't add up."
"Don't they?"
Reau scowled at him. "Stop playing games, Norac. We both know how dangerous the Kar'ta Epar'e were. But the reports say that Captain Tervho managed to beat an entire village of them back with just a small task force of Rangers. That's just not possible."
Benz shrugged. "That's what the reports say. Who am I to argue?"
Reau leaned closer and hissed, "What really happened down there in the jungle? What is Shysa leaving out?"
He sighed and turned to her. "And just what makes you think I want to talk to you about anything? Just leave me to drink in peace."
"Who are you trying to protect, Benz?" Reau demanded. "The Mand'alor who stripped you and your clan of your status? The Rangers who betrayed you and undermined your drive for vengeance? Or the beroya who put two blaster bolts in your chest and left you for dead?"
Benz's eyes narrowed. "Don't talk about her."
"You're lower than you've ever been," Reau relentlessly pressed. "You tried to do what was best for them and you ended up at the bottom of the food chain because of it. Why should you give a single osik about them now?"
He turned and moved away from the bar with a grunt of, "This conversation is over."
"I could offer you a way out."
He froze in his tracks, his hand halfway outstretched toward the door leading to the street. It fell back to his side and he slowly turned to face her. She was smiling smugly, while Clanmaster Kelborn just regarded him with that expressionless masked gaze.
He narrowed his eyes. "What are you proposing?"
Reau held his gaze. "A full alliance between my clan and yours. All the dishonor in the galaxy wouldn't be able to hold you back then. With the support of the Reau-Viszla – not to mention our Kelborn allies – you could easily demand that your honor and citizenship rights be returned to you. Shysa would be a fool to deny you with so many people behind you."
"And what would you get out of it?"
"The loyalty of you and your Berserkers, of course," Reau said matter-of-factly. "Keldabe is growing more and more dangerous; the Caranthyr bombings only proved that. We need to stick together if any of our clans are going to make it through."
He slowly returned to his seat. "And… just what do you want from me in exchange?"
"Only the answers to some very simple questions." Reau leaned toward him, lowering her voice. "What is Shysa hiding down in those jungles? What isn't he telling the rest of us?"
Benz regarded her warily, seeing the fire in her eyes. Isabet Reau was dangerous, there was no denying that. But she was also his best chance of regaining the honor he and his clan had lost. And if dancing with the devil meant he'd get what he wanted… then maybe it was time to dance.
He smiled at her – a frosty, wary smile – then reached over and took another swig from his mug.
To be continued in Star Wars: White Snow: Resurgence...
Author's Note: Whew! Another one bites the dust. This one was a ton of fun to write, but it did drag on for a while. Hopefully the next one will be a bit easier to write.
Thanks go to everyone who took the time to read and review this story. Your support was beyond helpful in finding the motivation to get this story finished. I hope to see you all next time!
Also, very grateful shout outs go to ChaosSpartan575 and Mandalore the Freedom for allowing me to use their characters for guest appearances in the early chapters of this story. They were a lot of fun to work with. Thanks, vod'ike.