Chapter Five: Implosion

Quinn crouched in front of the Ebon Hawk's boarding hatch access panel, running her sonic tool rhythmically over the air scrubber's thousands of ridges, one by one. It was the sort of mind-numbingly tedious maintenance job astromech droids were built for. But the med bay was already meticulously organized by whoever used it last, and she had already scrubbed down and disinfected the common room. Besides, Quinn figured if she cleaned them all herself, she could keep busy through the entire sleep cycle and maybe even until they landed on Coruscant, because the last thing she wanted to think about was how she ended up on this damned ship to begin with.

Daylight broke over the Dxun camp as the last search party returned from the jungle empty-handed. The leader of the squad gave Quinn a brief nod as he strode past her into the command bunker. She wanted to follow, but she hesitated for a few moments before the command bunker door. Her rank within the Clans meant that she should stay outside unless summoned. She pressed the door panel anyway and stepped inside.

When her own Clan Chief saw her, she was rewarded with a glare. Quinn returned his gaze, preparing to defend her presence, but instead of ordering her back out the door, Chief Fett's lips thinned and he turned to face Mandalore. Quinn crossed her arms and settled against the back wall next to the rumpled Jedi Exile who, to her surprise, looked as grim as everyone else in the room.

The captain of the last search squad conferred briefly with Xarga before saluting and leaving the bunker. Mandalore stood at the far console, his back to the assembled chiefs, and Xarga looked to him before running his hand over his face. Deep circles shadowed the space beneath his eyes. He looked every year of his five-plus decades.

"That's it, Mandalore," he announced. "The searchers found nothing." Mandalore didn't reply, and Xarga's brown eyes narrowed. "Two of the newer recruits are gone as well. Formerly of Clan Vivut. They hadn't yet affiliated with any of the five Clans here."

"Where did they come from?" Mandalore asked.

"They arrived on a shuttle from Onderon." Silence descended before Xarga broke it again. "Your orders, Mandalore?"

"I'm taking a team to Coruscant. Ten warriors from each Clan."

Quinn watched her Clan Chief's expression darken further, but it was Skirata's Chief, a tall, lean young woman who spoke and asked the question that was on the minds of everyone in the room. "Why Coruscant? If the recruits took your son, they could be anywhere in the galaxy by now."

"They're en route to Coruscant." As he spoke, Mandalore turned to face them. Deep lines creased his forehead and gray stubble darkened his jaw, but where Xarga looked haggard from the long, sleepless night, his Clanbrother exuded barely contained rage. "They're going to Ja'Taren Revan."

Chief Skirata's brows rose, while Chief Fett's lips twisted into a sneer. "You expect each of us to send ten of our warriors to help you with a squabble between you and your son's Republic clan?"

Xarga stepped forward, putting himself between Chief Fett and Mandalore's murderous glare. "You know for a fact they've gone to Revan's grandfather?"

With obvious reluctance, Mandalore's gaze slid from Chief Fett to his Clanbrother. "He threatened as much the last time we spoke."

Chief Fett waived a dismissive hand at both Xarga and Mandalore. "Then this is Clan Ordo's problem."

For the first time, Bralor's Chief spoke, white teeth flashing against dark skin. His words weren't a surprise. Ties between Clan Bralor and Clan Ordo had always been strong, even before the war. "He took the son of Mandalore. The Clans can't stand by and let this insult pass."

"He took the unmarked whelp of a Republic Jedi." Chief Fett spat the word out as an insult. His eyes darted to the Exile. "Go to them for help."

The Exile's drawl came from the back of the room. "Maybe he should if you're too gutless to send your warriors after one old rich guy."

Fett's fists clenched and Quinn wondered if her Clan Chief would be rash enough to challenge the Jedi to an honor duel right then and there, but Chief Beviin held her hand out to stop him before turning to Xarga. "Fett has a point. Both the Jedi and Revan's grandfather have claims on this boy that must be taken into account."

"Tar is the son of two marked warriors," Xarga snapped, red rising in his face. "How about we take that into account?"

"Revan's Clan mark means nothing," she declared, jabbing a finger in the direction of the Jedi Exile. "She isn't a warrior of the Mando'ade anymore than he is."

"I gave her that Clan mark," Xarga snarled. He stalked forward until he was practically nose to nose with the Beviin Chief. "Are you questioning my right to mark the warriors of Ordo, Beviin?"

"Mark who you like, but don't expect the rest of us to clean up your Clan's mess. You welcomed that viper into Clan Ordo knowing she was both Republic and Jedi, so you deal with the consequences."

"This isn't about Revan." Xarga's hand slashed through the air. "We all know how you feel about her. This is about the boy. Or are we letting the Republic bribe recruits and steal our children with impunity now?"

Beviin fell silent, and Quinn couldn't tell if it was because Xarga's words shamed her or if she was too outraged to retort. Chief Fett was not so silent. "If he's with his Republic clan, then he is in no danger. Clan Fett has better things to do than chase after Jedi half-breeds who didn't belong in this camp in the first place. Fett's warriors are forbidden to go." Quinn swore at his words, mortification for her Clan burning in her guts, as her Clan Chief turned his attention to her and added, "Especially you."

Quinn stepped forward with no hesitation. "As long as Mandalore will accept my blade, I'm going."

"I'll accept hers and nine others," Mandalore stated. "Or Clan Fett can leave this camp and be exiled from the reunited Clans for insubordination."

"Is that supposed to be a punishment?" Fett turned to face Quinn again as he declared, "Clan Fett is leaving to reclaim our homeworld. Anyone who disobeys my order will never set foot on Argent Dawn again."

It had been over a decade since Quinn had felt the wind over the rolling plains of her homeworld, and she knew that she wasn't the only one who was homesick. If Fett announced his plan and made their Clan choose, there would be some who would honor their oaths to Mandalore, but too many would leave with the Chief.

"We swore our oaths to Mandalore. If you go out there and force a choice, it will tear our Clan apart."

"You swore your oath to your Clan too," Chief Fett snarled. "Clan Fett has no need for traitors. Anyone who stays is unworthy of Fett's mark on their shoulder and will be declared Clanless."

The word hung in the silence that descended over the room. There was only one honorable answer. Still, it took a few moments before Quinn could bring herself to say it because she wasn't sure she would be able to live with the consequences.

"I'm staying."

Her Chief's face twisted, but he didn't look surprised. "You disgust me. You're the only medic in this camp. Clan Fett needs your skill to rebuild your homeworld and yet you stand with Ordo." His gaze flickered to where Xarga stood. "Just like you always do."

Infuriated by the insinuation, she snapped, "I stand by my oath to Mandalore."

"A Mandalore who is nothing more than a lovesick Jedi puppet," Beviin added. "He brings Revan into this camp, breeds with her, and her corruption spreads like a plague while our people stagnate and wither. Beviin agrees with your Chief's wisdom. We will leave as well."

"Then get the frack out," Mandalore spat, turning his back on them again. "You have one hour."

Xarga met Quinn's gaze, the look in his eyes a match for the roiling in her gut. She looked away, shame and despair paralyzing her, as the Chiefs walked out into the camp.

The sound of combat boots ringing against the metal deck pulled Quinn out of her brooding, and her fingers tightened around the tool. She wasn't the least bit surprised when Xarga leaned against the bulkhead beside her. "If you're really in that kind of mood, I've got armor that needs cleaning."

She couldn't summon up her usual snort of derision or a wry inquiry about whether his fingers were broken. Instead, she wiped her hand across her brow, smearing dust in streaks across her golden skin.

"Put it on the workbench," she murmured, as she silently willed him to go away. "I'll get to it when I can."

"You have gone crazy if you think I'd let you touch my armor, Fett."

Quinn flinched when he said her Clan name. "Is that why you're here? To make sure the Clanless one isn't losing her shit?"

Xarga's lips tightened into a thin line as he blew a breath out through his nose. "I'll probably regret asking this, but do you want to talk about it?"

"Obviously," she snapped, her voice rising for the first time. "That's why I have my nose buried in an access panel as far away as I can get from everyone else on this ship. What is there to say anyway? The Mando'ade is completely fracked now. It is what it is."

"This isn't the first time the Clans have split," Xarga replied, crossing his arms over his chest. "It won't be the last."

"It will be the last," she said, her voice brittle. The tool went off with a snap as she turned to glare at him. "Don't you get it? Revan broke us all so badly that we don't even want to survive. All we've been doing the last few years is delaying the inevitable."

One of Xarga's eyebrows twitched upward. "So self-pity, huh? Well, if you plan on becoming an enforcer for some two-credit thug, you may want to avoid Taris. I don't think they've rebuilt the lower levels yet."

"Don't lecture me. I made my oath to Mandalore and I stand by it. I won't abandon my duty to the Mando'ade now anymore than I did after Malachor V." She turned back to the panel, her Clan tattoo flexing on her bare shoulder as she returned to her work and muttered, "But I sure as hell don't believe in it."

"You really had that much faith in your Clan Chief?" Skepticism laced every word of the question. "I always thought he was a devious piece of crap."

"He is a devious piece of crap," she admitted. "But I thought he would be smart enough to realize that our only chance for survival is to keep the Clans united." Her face twisted as she jammed the tool into the filter with more force than was really necessary. "And here I was so worried about birth rates that I couldn't see the real trouble brewing."

The boots at the edge of her peripheral vision shifted on the deck. "Having a thick-headed Clan Chief isn't your fault. Believe me, I know."

"It doesn't matter if it isn't my fault. They were my Clan. I broke my oath to them by staying. With them dishonored and exiled, it feels like..." She trailed off and just stared at the open access panel for a few long seconds before slamming it shut. "It doesn't matter what it feels like. It's done."

Xarga rubbed his eyes with one finger and thumb, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

She sighed. "Save the Clanmother nagging about how I should stop wearing myself out and get some rest. If I could sleep at all, I would."

"Not what I was going to say, but not a bad idea." Xarga straightened up, stepping away from the wall. "Look, I'm tired, you're tired, so I'm going to skip the big formal speech. You know you have a place in Clan Ordo anytime you want it."

Her Clan mark seemed to burn on her shoulder. She was tempted, but joining Ordo would mean erasing the mark that had defined her for more than three decades. "And you know that I can't accept it, but I'm honored all the same."

Xarga shrugged. "I won't twist your arm about it, but figure out some way to deal with this, all right? You're freaking out the Jedi."

So the Exile was still pissy about her cleaning his filthy ship. "Yes, not offending the delicate sensibilities of an oversexed Jedi man-child should be my number one priority," she said as she placed her hands on her hips, almost managing her usual wry drawl.

"When that man-child can rip a hole through the ship you're riding on, you might want to think about it," Xarga retorted.

"Fine, fine." Her gaze dropped down to her now still hands, feeling more than a little lost as she shoved the sonic tool into one of her pockets. "I'll try to find something else to do that doesn't freak out the Jedi."

"If you've been putting off getting drunk, now's your chance. We won't reach our Coruscant for another twelve hours." When Xarga extended a hand to help her to her feet, she took it, taking some small comfort in the familiar warmth and roughness.

"Wallowing in drunken misery while I make an idiot of myself somehow doesn't seem like it would help." She dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Anyway, I'm a big girl, and you look like you're about to collapse on your feet, so stop hovering."

"On my way to my bunk right now." He nodded toward the port-side quarters. "You can join me if you like."

Surprised, her brows rose, but she moved toward the corridor that led to his bunk anyway. "Does this mean you're not angry with me anymore? Because I wouldn't blame you if you were."

"You weren't wrong," he said as he followed her direction. "Thirty years ago I might have been flattered."

The fine lines at the corner of her eyes crinkled. "I like to think that thirty years ago, I wouldn't have suggested it and kept you for myself. But I was pretty stupid when I was seventeen, and probably would have been screwing around with someone like the Jedi Exile."

Xarga snorted a laugh, shaking his head. "Back then you would have had competition anyway. I was already doing my part to expand the Clan."

She stopped in front of the door and turned to face him. "Which is why I shouldn't have put you, of all people, on the spot."

Xarga shrugged, not meeting her eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the expression of sympathy. "Forget it. The whole conversation's moot until we get this mess sorted out anyway."

She nodded and sighed. "And what a mess it is. Even when Revan's gone, she shapes our people."

Xarga shook his head. "She didn't expect this. If she had, she would have warned us."

"None of this would have happened if she hadn't left in the first place. She breaks us and remakes us and we fall apart when she's gone. The hell of it is, I don't even think she understands the power she has over us."

"It's not power over us," Xarga muttered. He sighed and rubbed a hand over his bald scalp. "We just have to get the kid back and then we can..." He trailed off in a snort. "And then I don't know what we do. Any ideas?"

She looked at him for a few seconds, mirth easing some of the tired melancholy away. "Considering the last plan I came up with, you're a brave man to ask me that, Xarga Ordo."

"Brave isn't usually the word you use for it, Quinn-" She winced again as he cut himself off. With more tenderness than he usually displayed or she usually allowed, he brushed a calloused hand against her cheek before pulling her into his chest. "Quinn."

She was stiff for a moment, before relaxing against his shoulder. "Well, you caught me in a generous mood," she murmured. "Enjoy it while you can because I'll be back to disrespecting Ordo's Chief tomorrow."

He grunted. "Yeah, I had a feeling."