Dantooine: Justice
Canderous
The heavy blaster rifle lay on the workbench as I worked with it. Patience is the first thing a young warrior learns, and I am by no means young. I am Canderous Ordo of clan Ordo. My deeds are enshrined in the halls of my people, and for forty of the Republic's standard years I had fought across the Galactic Rim.
Since Mand'alor Our Progenitor conquered a small flyspeck of a planet, we have been warriors, and our people breed them like others breed their farm animals. For my people it is the honor and glory of battle that draws us, shapes us, and defines us. For each of us it is through combat that we prove our worth gain respect, earn our fortunes and determine who is worthy of passing on his genes to the next generation.
Not long after we left Taris, the woman that I now allied myself with had sat with me, and discussed what my people know and feel and believe. When I spoke to her of what I have just recorded she asked "Is that why the Mandalorians attacked us?"
I corrected her, which I have not bothered to do with no Autisse; non Mando'a, since the war's end. "We call ourselves merely the Mando'a, as our leader has always been the Mand'alor of our people of the planet Mand'alor. Only those who have not spent the time to learn of us call us Mandalorian.
"No. Twenty years ago, we were approached by the Sith, still licking their wounds after the war of Exar Kun. They brought not trinkets and technologies, but an idea that struck our people. Why not prove ourselves in a war that would be recorded as long as the Galaxy existed? Fight an enemy that would set forever the name of the Mando'a in history. They wanted us to strike at the Republic.
"For my people it was a siren call of battle. The Republic was weakened by the war of Exar Kun. The Sith were worse off. To defeat the Sith would have been child's play, but the Republic..."
"But you lost!"
"Win, lose, it doesn't matter. As long as the fight is glorious and worthy of those that died. The honor for a glorious losing battle is no less than that which leads to victory, only the one who lost is not there a lot of the time to garner it. His or her children are still there to see it and that renown is theirs as well through their blood. The glory of defeating your Republic, of facing impossible odds, and knowing that we can win, but will probably not, that is what drives us."
"And what of those defeated?"
"You know gamblers, what do they lose? Money. Coins or jewels that were never going to remain theirs forever. We gamble only one way, and that is with our very lives. If there is nothing of true worth at stake, you possessions, your world, your life, battle is pointless. To fight a battle with no possessions to take, no worlds to conquer, no lives to end is waste.
"When we fight nothing is held back. Everything we are and have is thrown into it. It is the true test that defines your very life. The struggle against death and oblivion."
"So your people seek death."
I shook my head, smiling. It was almost as if she were one of the children in the training camps.
"Death is nature's way. All things die in their time. A true warrior is the one that Death chases, pursues with single-minded intensity, yet fails to catch. Such has always been our way."
I stopped speaking for a time. "But our people had begun to change in small ways that boded the end of our race. There was a generation of those who fought nowhere but in the training pits rising now to command. Leaders of Squads, Phalanxes, even armies that gave of their mouths to the glory of war, yet had never felt it's kiss, had never given their heart or their blood to it. When the story circle was opened, all they could do was listen. The clans were being led by those that would not last an instant against those of my generation who had seen it, and if we had ever fought amongst ourselves again would have fallen even though they outnumbered us in their hundreds. The entire race was dying from the inside like a diseased tree, and the rot was spreading rapidly.
"The last Mand'alor of Mand'alor was of my generation, his own son was one of this other kind. He feared for our entire race if his son did not learn the truth of our existence. He committed us to the course of fighting the Republic in hopes that the new war would blood those and bring them into the fold, as they should have been. We might fall, but it would be as we should, from battle, not from the weakness of our own people. He spent a dozen of your years attacking just the fringes, the unaligned worlds and polities. Then, finally, when he felt there was no more he could do to train them, we struck.
"But he failed. When the fire of battle touched us, it wasn't the diseased tissue that burned, but the good. The weak stayed home, or found their niche in garrison troops and administration. What we would have left to neverd, civilians; they grasped and called important. Not all of course, for even a diseased tree will stand many seasons before its fall. But enough that when the war had ended, the dross was greater in weight than the precious metal we had squandered. The Clans were scattered over the rim on a few meager worlds.
"That may be the end of my people. Many still stalk about wearing our armor, speaking our language, defaming our heritage, whose only claim to it is their blood. One such was Bendak Starkiller back on Taris, who cannot even claim that blood.
"Even at the height of our power, the Clans were not a serious threat to any capable of standing against us. Those that fought us tried to use the weak among us as the reasons we fought. The greed the brutality the spite, and the bloodlust. But they know that is a lie. The Mando'a are still the premier warriors of the Galaxy. They look at us and see that, and fear us still.
"We wanted the challenge of battle, as we always have. The honor and glory, win or lose. We lost."
She sat there looking at me, and I knew that she felt pity for my people. A brave race brought low not by the war, but by our own society. "And how did Canderous Ordo of Clan Ordo end up on Taris?"
"Home is not what it was for us that really believed in our old ways. It was better to spread into the Galaxy, earn again our honors, and hope that some few would learn it at home again. Ships came from many peoples, and our warriors, and those who only claimed such left in their multitudes. I had finished a contract when I arrived on Taris. Not a lucrative one and truth be told little honor accrued from it.
"Davik needed men and spoke of great honor and glory, but what honor was there? Crushing the idiots that fought him, pitting a few months swagger against forty years of struggle was something a stripling could have beaten. Confronting the Swoop gangs had its moments, but even they were weak and would have been defeated in the end.
"When I look back upon my life. At the thousands who fell facing me. The deaths I have encompassed with my own hands, with the hands of those that followed me, I weep. Not for my past, for what has been written will never be undone. No, I weep for my people in the future."
When we arrived at Dantooine, she had to spend time with the Jedi, and because of that, I was left pretty much to myself. The Wookiee spoke a language I had never learned, the Twi-lek girl looked at me as if I had three heads, and I was of no interest to Bastila.
This left only Carth, and when she was there, Danika to speak to.
Among my people there is a saying, 'Society is only warfare on another plane'. One evening, I opened battle on that level with Carth. The one thing I missed from home was the Warrior's story circle. The telling and retelling of our deeds. It is not proper to merely speak of them unless asked, and it is good manners to let others go first. We had settled down to a meal. Danika was engrossed in a Holocron, those odd devices only the Jedi or others who can touch the Force can use.
"Carth. You fought my people during the Mandalorian wars, didn't you?" He nodded. "We might have faced each other in combat. Tell me of the battles you fought, and whom you fought alongside."
He shook his head. "I try not to think of the battles I have seen too much. The horrors of war are not something to relive over a meal. I save them for my nightmares."
The comment bothered me. "Horrors? My people glory in the press of battle. We gain honor among our people by the retelling of our exploits. The young learn what it is to be a warrior. I am disappointed that you never learned that lesson."
"Most of our peoples never learned to view war as yours did." Danika commented softly.
"I am not a warrior." Carth bit out. "I was a soldier. There is a difference. Warriors attack and conquer. They prey on those too weak to fight back. Soldiers defend and protect the innocent. Usually from warriors."
"Nice speech. I bet you tell yourself that every night to stave off your nightmares. But my people have done what you are not. We accept what nature and chance has made us. I don't have to justify what I have done in my life with pallid words. My victories in my record is all I need to show my worth."
"Victories!" Carth almost spat. "And how do the defeats measure in this paean of martial glory? You lost. You not only lost. You lost to us!"
"Of course we did!" I looked at him surprised. "When the war began you outnumbered us five to one in ships, and ten to one in personnel. You had more supplies than you knew what to do with, which helped because we captured enough of them to keep our own troops going. You had the Jedi, the one thing we did not have, and yet you still almost lost to us before they joined the fight. It has been four years, and still the Republic trembles at the name Mand'alor!"
"Nice speech. I bet you tell yourself that every night to cover the fact that you lost! How many millions died when your kind committed atrocities?"
"The ones that occurred, or the ones your government thought up?"
"How about Serafin 7? The murder of ten thousand miners when you invaded?"
"It is said among my people 'to know honor, you must know what dishonor is'. Goortel led the fleet at Serafin. He was not a warrior; he was one of the weak ones that share my blood. He was dealt with afterward. The sentence for his infamy was Kashtrial. Death by his own hand. When he proved too weak to follow through as honor demanded, we dealt with him as we would with any of his ilk." I glared at him. "We took care of those of our own that acted shamefully. That raped, that pillaged, that murdered instead of facing the dead in battle. Can you say the same? What of Admiral Quintain at Kostigan's Drift? If I remember correctly he was made a lord of the Republic for his victory." I added sarcastically.
"I was at Kostigan's Drift." He bit out. "Quintain faced a fleet defending a supply depot. He fought through them, and bombed the depot."
"Yes. I was there as well. The 'fleet' he faced was fifteen corvettes against thirty frigates and corvettes. They were not pushed aside, he slipped by them in the dark matter belt at the edge of the system. He could have fought them and crushed them but he didn't have the guts to match weapons with them. When he was past them he bombed the entire continent where our depot was. Killing what, the fifty Mando'a that guarded it? And what of the million odd civilians that lived there? If we had done it every officer in the fleet would have been executed afterward by us!"
"There was your damn jamming! He couldn't target as precisely as we wished!"
"Jamming! The only 'jamming' you faced was the electromagnetic affects of the dark matter you had hidden in! Our fleet didn't engage you then because they were waiting for our own instruments to clear! I know because I was on the bridge of one of them when the pursuit began!"
"I think that is quite enough discussion." Bastila commented tartly.
As you can see, war without the bloodshed. But it was fun while it lasted.
I leaned back, examining what I had been doing. Danika had ordered the parts I needed to tweak the weapon to it's maximum potential. I hoped that soon I would find something worthy of its thunder.
"Canderous." I looked behind me. Danika stood there. Instead of the Echani armor she had worn, she wore a simple robe as the Jedi did. Part of me was saddened. She had looked like a war bride before, and that vision remained in my mind of her. Now she looked like all of the faceless Jedi I had fought in my time. "I would like you to accompany me."
"Just say the word."
She held up her hand. "Will bringing Carth be a burden?"
I shook my head. "A burden for Carth perhaps. But one day he will see his true self."
I gathered my gear, putting on my armor, and followed her to the cockpit. Carth was doing as I had, assuring that his weapons, his controls were in perfect working order. He started to smile, but it was wiped away when I entered after her. "I would like you to accompany me, Carth." She looked at me. "I should have said Us."
"Where?"
There is a final test I must endure to become a Padawan. I am supposed to have witnesses, and I chose you two because if there is anything out there that is a danger, I can think of no one better able to defend themselves."
He looked at me, then stood, picking up his weapons belt. I had seen him back there tinkering with his weapons as well.
She led us through the Academy, past all of those people doing what only the Jedi knew.
"I will wait no longer!" A bluff man was forcing his way past a small woman, screaming. I would have simple cold cocked him, but the girl who was obviously a student, didn't have the training. "I have waited and waited and you Jedi have done nothing! I demand justice! The Sanderal are a blight on this planet and must be expunged!"
Danika moved to intercept him, and he slowed. "Get out of my way, woman!"
"Sir pushing around students does not make your cause more just." She said coldly. "And shouting does not mean you are more quickly heard, only more loudly."
"I do not need your platitudes!" He started to reach out. I couldn't see her face from where I was, but it stopped him cold.
"Heard you have been. Loudly." Master Vandar walked out of the council room, followed by Master Vrook. They came to stand beside Danika. "Apprentice, this is our business." Vandar said.
She bowed, stepping aside. "Yes master." Vandar then turned to the angry man.
"Mr. Matale, the Council has already promised to investigate your son's disappearance, but you must be patient. Your accusations have no proof and until we can finish our investigations, all you will do is incite further violence. If your claims are false, the hatred you spread will only linger."
"False! My son is missing, and he was in the Sanderal estates when it happened! That much our own authorities have proven!"
"Authorities that work on your lands and answer to you alone. Others do not say as much." Master Vrook said.
"My officers are the best trained on the planet and were instructed to look for clues, not make decisions regarding them."
Vandar shook his head as if he knew where the argument was going. "Your anger with the Sanderal is well documented. As is theirs with you. If there is no evidence, you will follow that anger as a river runs downhill. In our deliberations we have discovered many possible reasons for Shen's disappearance. We must continue our investigations, and you must learn patience."
He spat. "You Jedi! Good for nothing but talk! I will wait here no longer! I will deal with this problem myself!" He turned and stormed away.
Vandar watched him, then turned to Danika. "As much effort as we must put into this war with the Sith and Malak, we Jedi cannot simply abandon our other duties, Apprentice. We have promised to look into this matter, and we are, but time is not on our side.
"Part of the problem is that Casus, son and heir of Nurik Sanderal has been missing for two days now. The Sanderal have accused the Matale, but again there was no proof. Shen's disappearance has merely added fuel to the fire. If Shen Matale is dead, we must prove beyond a shadow of doubt when and how he died, and who is responsible. If the Sanderal are guilty, they must be punished. But the hatred between the two families started almost from their arrival. If the matter stays as it is, or we do not find the culprit, it will flash into a bloody feud that will not end as long as both families live. We must not allow that to happen.
"Study and training is necessary to perfect our art, of course. But the Jedi is not a cloistered order with no contact with the Galaxy. Our influence and our teachings must extend beyond these walls."
"Yes." Vrook said. "It is in the real world that we prove ourselves worthy of the title Jedi. You would do well to remember that, young apprentice."
Danika bowed, and we went on. The door to the outside world was just another door; I could have blasted it with a single round. Danika walked up to the protocol droid assigned to the entrance. "I am Danika Wordweaver."
"My programming includes your appearance, Apprentice." He said smoothly. "You are allowed full access to the facilities, and may leave them at your discretion." The door opened. "May the Force be with you."
We walked out onto a wide esplanade. Some people were there, talking in small groups, walking together. Ever present were other young Jedi, though these were all in their teens and mid twenties.
As we walked, I noticed a man standing near a bridge leading out into a wild expanse. He saw us, and I could feel the hate radiating off him at the sight of me. I'm used to that. Being Mando'a means others hate and fear you on sight.
As we reached him, he drew a knife, and screamed, charging at me. Carth drew, and I lowered my weapon to point at the man. But Danika's lightsaber flicked into life, and she cut, the blade of the knife falling to the ground, leaving only the hilt.
"What means this?" She asked coldly. The lightsaber died.
"You Jedi! How long must we face attacks by night from his kind?" He jerked his head in my direction. "I come to ask for justice, and what do I see? A Jedi with a Mandalorian butcher in tow! You sit in your enclave and preach love and light while the rest of us suffer!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Those Mandalorian scum murdered my daughter!"
"Yet you stand here, alive." I said. "What manner of father are you?"
"What was I supposed to do?" The man screamed at me. "A dozen Mandalorians and their Duros allies came to our land. Took what we had! When Ilse fought them their leader dragged her away. They used her, then brought her out naked and bloody, and shot her right in front of me!"
"What were their names." I asked. My face must have been cold, but fires burned in me. How dare they defame our people!
"I only heard Sherruk. Their leader." The man glared at me. "Why? Are you going to sing songs of their bravery?"
"I don't know what the Jedi will do, man. But I, Canderous of Clan Ordo will rip out his heart and bring it back to you."
"Find them, kill them!" The man started to shout again, then suddenly collapsed, crying. Danika knelt beside him, her hand on his shoulder.
"We will find them." She promised.
We walked out into the plains in silence. "Why, Canderous?" She asked after a time. "Why did you make such an oath?"
"To kill someone who cannot fight back is bad enough. How much honor does a warrior win by killing the defenseless? But to dishonor her then kill her, that is worse."
"Why? Seems the Mandalorians did a lot of that during the war." Carth said.
I spun. "If you do not know what you are speaking about, you should be silent! Yes there were those that have done such things. We considered them as worse than you ever would. More of those that killed the innocent died by our hands then ever stood in one of your Republic courts!"
"What about war brides then? What is that beyond giving a woman into slavery and rape?"
"Again your words issue from an empty head! When we fought an enemy, our Soochir record all that was seen. If a woman fought us, we judged her from that record, and tried always to take her alive.
"Do you think our women are nothing but brood mares? They stand with us in battle, protect our backs, bear our children, and no on who has met one in battle can say they are unable to fight. Those women among the enemy we fought who were judged worthy we named war brides and a bride price set. Then they were asked-asked if they would accept it. If she accepted marriage, that money went in trust to her and her children. If she refused that price was paid to the woman, and she was declared one of our own. She had her own household, her own lands, her own say in her life. Warriors would come and tell of their deeds hoping to woo her as a wife.
"If she refused the price or later refused to marry within three of your years, she was promised transportation to a neutral planet if they wished. Yet even then they were honored! If we fought the son of a war bride later, it was a great honor.
"But rape? How can a man trust any woman to guard his back that he has used so shamefully? How can he stand in the circle and boast of such an act? Yes our young have raped. We punish them as the children they are. But a Warrior trained and bred does not unless he has no use for living."
The walk continued in silence.
Danika
We headed south through the Matale lands. There were Kath hounds, and where possible we avoided them. The smaller female predators stand half a meter at the shoulder. They are the hunters of the packs. The Males are called Horned Kath hounds because when they reach maturity, they grow two massive forward sweeping horns and grow to almost two meters at the shoulder. While they can be used as weapons, the horns are for the mating cycle. A male would attack and hope to drive away another male and capture his females. The unattached males wander alone, and are considered quite dangerous.
What disturbed me was not the Kath hounds but the men that streamed into the Matale lands. Most had the look of drifters, looking for work. But others were hard-eyed mercenaries. Some of them spoke of both Ahlan Matale and Rurik Sanderal putting out the call for soldiers to fight. The open fighting that the Council foresaw was only days away.
We came over a small rise, and I stopped. A small group stood down there, surrounding a farmer. I could see that three were Duros, and the last- The blue green armor of a Mandalorian.
I started down the slope. As I approached, the Mandalorian grabbed the farmer by his collar. "Not good enough! Are you trying to slip out of your taxes to us?"
"Please, that's all I have! Take what you want, my wife, my children, but-"
The blaster in the Mandalorian's hand spoke, blasting a hole through him. "Wife and children. Now that's a thought."
"Go to the dishonored!" A roar in Mando'a was followed by a blast from the heavy blaster Canderous carried. The bolt, punched in, causing a steam explosion. Blood and organs spewed out, stunning the Duros. I was among them before they even reacted.
Carth shot one, I killed the other two. Canderous had walked the rest of the way down the hill, and stood over the Mandalorian body. He knelt, ripping off the helmet. The man he looked down on was younger than I was. Canderous took a chain from the corpse's neck, snapping it to pull it out. There was a small datapad attached to it. "Rander Tubliek of Clan Sokor." He looked down, then spat in the still face. "Long will clan Sokor work to clean this stain." He took the datapad, and put it in his pouch.
"What is that?" I asked.
"A Mando'a always carries his Soochir. His soul of battle." He touched the pouch. "Every deed he does is recorded, and if he speaks of battle in the circle, he can prove his acts with it. Also, it is believed that when he dies, the Gods of war judge him by it. The gatekeeper reads his acts, and judges whether he deserves to even speak to the War Gods. If not he is cast off the bridge into the pit of souls, where he must fight his way back into life, and begin again. If he is passed by the gatekeeper, the War Gods also read it. If they are still considered pallid, and worthless, the spirit is thrown into the pit of souls, but nearer the top, where one day it can return to life as a warrior and try again. If he was a good warrior, but not outstanding, he is thrust back into life at that time.
"If he is a great warrior, his spirit is sent to join one of the Gods' war bands, there to prepare for the day the Universe ends. Every one of them will fight to keep the Universe alive, and every one that dies on that day is another second the universe will exist." He clenched his fist. "It is also said that if an enemy takes your Soochir and it does not reach your clan, the spirit will wander until that day, and beg their chances of the Gods to no avail, not even worthy of a new life." He looked at the body. "Wander until I decide to return this."
I set the swoop bikes for auto travel, and their destination was originally the police station in the nearest settlement. I had looked at the armament they carried, and instead set them to go to the enclave. We loaded the bodies onto the farm lifter, and set it to follow. Then we continued on. To the south was the Sanderal lands, and here as with the other land we had passed, we came upon groups that were bound this time for the Sanderal estate.
We cut across the land, past the great house, and continued. In the farthest reaches of the Sanderal lands, I spied several young Kath hounds worrying a body. We chased the cubs away. He had been dead for more than two weeks. Carth found a backpack, and he held out a datapad. It belonged to one Casus Sanderal. I downloaded the information on the datapad. "From what I heard, Casus disappeared, and Sanderal accused the Matale of his murder."
"No chance of that." Carth knelt. "A blaster bolt would have scarred the bones; a blade or club would leave obvious marks. Even after this time the marks would still be there. What does the datapad say?"
"He was exploring a ruin near here. Seems he was quite the amateur archeologist." I slipped it into my pouch. "We must return to the Sanderal home. Nurik must be told."
"Take it easy, Danika, Carth. But we're being watched." Canderous said. He tilted his head as if trying to crack his neck. "Five people coming this way. Two are in Mando'a armor."
I stayed kneeling, Carth beside me. Canderous moved around us, putting himself at the farthest from the approaching people. He needed the extra standoff distance for his massive weapon.
"Stand slowly, woman." A voice called in a flat filtered tone. A Mandalorian appeared out of a camouflage field a few meters away from us. Another appeared to the left and behind him. Three Duros came over the crest, covering us with their hand weapons. I stood slowly as instructed, Carth moving to his feet and moving to the left to give me a clear field.
"Well she's a pretty one, isn't she Mart?" The first Mandalorian asked. "Think Sherruk will leave any of her for us?"
"Not likely, Coord." The other replied. "We'll have to hope he gets tired of her eventually."
"Is it not tradition that before battle a Mandalorian must give his full name?" I asked.
"Battle!" Coord snorted. "As if three wastlings could be a battle for us! Woman you're a piece of property now. Your men will die facing us one to one in a dueling circle, or if they are too cowardly, will wear a slave collar. It is said, 'A herd beast is not a warrior, and not even a child gets honor from slaughtering it'."
"It is also said that 'only a fool cooks a meal from something he has not caught'." Canderous snorted.
"Who are you to quote the precepts of the Mando'a to us?" Mart asked.
"I am Canderous Ordo of Clan Ordo, worm. I am your death."
I moved, the lightsaber springing to life. Coord went down before me, and Mart was caught in the blast from Canderous' rifle. Carth had drawn, and a burst of fire swept the Duros away. Canderous again gathered the datapads. I climbed the ridge to discover yet more swoop bikes. Again I set them for the Jedi enclave.
"Mart Coomar, of clan Troska." Canderous said. "And Coord Lambec of Clan Kootir. More dishonored houses." He spat. "These are the type you would call us all, Carth. I have shown you in words and actions how we deal with them." Carth was silent.
Sanderal
Danika
We returned to the Sanderal home. It was a large building with a landing pad on its flat roof. A freighter was parked there, and men were unloading supplies from it. A war droid patrolled before the door. I approached it, and it stopped, weapon training on me.
The droid hummed to itself. "Due to the legal ruling of 1100 hundred hours this morning, both the Sanderal and the Matale are banned from hiring human warriors. While your interest is appreciated, there is no further business to discuss."
"I am Danika Wordweaver of the Jedi Enclave. I must speak with Nurik Sanderal."
It buzzed. "Since the Jedi Council suggested that ruling, your presence is not welcome."
"I have knowledge of Casus Sanderal he must hear."
The droid stood silent. "Mr. Sanderal will see you in the entry hall. You are hereby warned that any attempt to pass farther into the house will be deemed an attack, and under Dantooine law, can be dealt with as such."
The entry hall was cool, the hill that had once stood here formed the insulation for the walls. A young girl was there, and greeted us.
"I am Rahasia Sanderal. Casus is my brother. You have news-"
"Rahasia, leave us." Nurik Sanderal was a tall angry dark skinned man. He stopped a few meters from us, flanked by war droids. "Well? You claimed to have news of my son?"
I took the backpack that Carth had been carrying. I lifted out the datapad, and handed it to him. "Casus was coming back from the ruins in the east portion of your lands. He was attacked by Kath-hounds and killed."
His eyes tightened, and he delicately took the datapad. He scanned the last entries, then snorted. "Records can be faked. Go back to your puppet masters Jedi, and tell them that I know the Matale murdered my son. Once I have enough droids delivered I am going to remove that damnable family from this planet. Good day."
"Sir-"
"Damn you woman, there is nothing left to discuss. This will be settled in blood. Good day!"
"Well that could have gone better." Carth commented.
We turned to go, but a figure came from the shadows, Rahasia Sanderal. She looked at the war droid that still waited. "Nurik 4-11-7." She ordered. "You will not record anything for the next ten minutes. You will delete the order that was given to you by me, and return to your station." She looked at us. Then came forward, pressing a key into my hand. "You must save him. Hurry."
"Shen Matale." I said. She nodded.
"My father is a good man, but the anger he holds for the Matale, the death of my mother, Casus disappearing, all of it has driven him to the brink of madness. He has taken Shen and holds him in the back of the house. He is still undecided if he should kill Shen or sell him to slavers. That key will open the storage bay side door. Get him free before my father carries out his plan!" She hurried away.
"No good deed goes unpunished." Canderous said. "We're going to save this boy?"
I considered a life spent in hellish slavery because of grief. Shen being punished for something not his crime. "That, Canderous, was a foolish question."
We left, and walked around the estate until we reached the storage bay. I opened the personnel door, and we entered. The setting sun lighted the interior halls, and we could see easily. I opened a door, and it led to a computer room. "Carth, you are better at this than I am."
He came forward, and began slicing into the system. "All right. Shen is in this room. Down the hall, around the corner to the left. Second door." He logged out, and we raced on.
The door had a mine before it, and Canderous immediately deactivated it. "A directional charge. If we had triggered it, the blast would have gutted that room."
I opened it. Shen Matale was tall, thin, and in his late teens. He stood when we came in, ready for a confrontation but stopped, confused. "You don't work for the Sanderals. Who are you?"
"I am Danika Wordweaver of the Jedi order. This is Canderous Ordo of clan Ordo, and Carth Onasi of the Republic navy. We have come to rescue you."
"What about Rahasia?"
"What?"
"Mr. Sanderal is insane. If I escape, he will assume that Rahasia helped in my rescue, and his fury will vent on her. She might die. I cannot have that on my conscience. Get her out of here first or I will stay and die to protect her!"
I shook my head. "No good deed goes unpunished." I repeated. "Where is Rahasia's room?"
"I'm a prisoner, how would I know?" He asked sarcastically.
We had to run back to the first room. Carth again sliced into the computer. "You know if we were recording this, it would make a great situation comedy." He said as he worked. "Brave rescuers now trying to rescue someone else because the one they came for forgot to pay for their meal or something." I snorted with laughter. I could picture the show, and if I weren't one of the actors, would have been laughing so hard my sides would hurt. "All right, got it. But there are war droids in the area. Wait a- Oh you're just so smart aren't you?" He flicked a few switches. "All right, the droids between us and there are down."
He led us through the halls. The droids stood as if they were statues. We came to the door, and opened it. Rahasia looked up confused. "What are you doing here? Don't tell me you got lost!"
"No." I fought the laughter that threatened to bubble up. What next? A pet that had to be saved as well? "Shen won't leave unless you leave too."
She shook her head with a sad smile. "He would. Shen was always the kind that took in strays." She stood, flinging clothes into a bag. "I will go out the front. Get him out of here."
I nodded, and we went back to the cell. Shen agreed to leave, finally.
I thought for a moment that we had done it all for nothing. As we rounded the house, and Shen and Rahasia were both busy making sure the other was all right, a farm scow breasted the hill, and a dozen war droids poured out of it, followed by Ahlan Matale.
An alarm sounded, and an equal number of war droids poured out of the house behind us, followed by Nurik Sanderal.
"Shen!" Ahlan shouted.
"Father!"
"Mr. Matale!" Rahasia cried.
"Rahasia!" Nurik shouted.
"Father!"
"Mr. Sanderal!"
"Nurik!"
"Ahlan!"
"So, you did have my son!"
"After you murdered mine!"
"I think you should all calm down." I said.
"Father-"
"Shut up!" Nurik shouted.
"It isn't what you think!"
"Shut up!" Ahlan shouted.
"Everyone shut up!" I roared.
"Who do you think you are?" Ahlan growled.
"If I wanted your help, I would have done without!" Nurik said at almost the same time.
"Enough is enough father." Rahasia said. "Nurik 4-11-7! You will go in the house, disarm, and start a diagnostic cycle! Until this is done you will accept no other orders!"
"Ahlan 17-41-32!" Shen shouted. "You will return to the vehicle, and stay there until you return to our home! Until this is done you will accept no other orders!"
The men stood and stared as the droids turned, and followed the orders. Both screamed counter orders but droids are not made to be self-aware. The commands had been given by authorized voices. And the orders explicit.
It hadn't sunk to drama, it was still a farce.
"I am sick of this father!" Shen said. "Everything is the 'evil Sanderal' this and the 'evil Sanderal' that! What about living father? What about a life beyond this hatred?"
"I am happy my mother is dead, father!" Rahasia was crying. "Better that than she see what your hatred has done!"
"I knew you were sniffing around this Sanderal slut-"
"Don't call my daughter a slut!"
"Yes, I agree. I love Rahasia and only your petty bickering has kept us apart." Shen looked to Rahasia. "Come with me."
"Yes. The Jedi will protect us!"
"You are going nowhere-"
"You will do nothing to stop them." I snapped. "Can't you see what is happening here?" I looked from one to the other. "You will lose your children to this, either by locking them up behind walls or they fly from you. Remember when your child was born? The feel of their breath on your neck, the smell of their flesh the first time you held them? The way they looked at you as if you were the center of their universe? Look at them now. Think of the children they will have that you will never see because they cannot visit one without inciting the other to fury." I walked toward Ahlan. "How would it be Ahlan Matale, to know you have a grandchild, but know that your own petty idiocy will assure that you never see him?"
I rounded on Nurik. "Or you, Nurik Sanderal. To know your daughter will bear a daughter, but she will not give it her dead mother's name because that will cause Ahlan to be angry?"
I threw my hands up. "Why don't you both just kill each other? Give them a clean slate in their future lives, and at the same time give them the guilt of your deaths? I know that some peace will come of it.
"But know this, Ahlan Matale, Nurik Sanderal. Their lives will be better if they walked away and never touched this land ever again. Hatred is a crop you both nurture because of something that happened before they were born. Until you are willing to see that, and begin to change, nothing else you do will be worth the effort. Enjoy your lands, your crops, and your herds. And know that all it cost was your children."
I turned to the couple. "I will call a lifter for you both. As much as they like to inflict pain on themselves, you need not inflict it on yourselves by walking to the Enclave."
Rahasia nodded. I called the Council, reported Shen as found and alive, and glared at both of the men until the lifter arrived.
"Rahasia-"
"The Jedi is half your age, but she is wiser than you are father. When both of you can ask us at the same time, together, we can talk."
"Shen-"
"Until you can love the woman who will be my wife, and at least talk civilly with her father, I am not your son."
Both stood stricken as the lifter shot up and toward the North. I took some pity on them. "Children grow, and change. They have to make their own lives away from the parents. Some times it is clean and happy. Other times it is pain on all sides. Talk to each other before you do anything you will regret. Not for me, but for them, and for you." I looked at the vanishing lifter. "What child would be gladdened to know that they have grandparents, but can never see them?"
I walked away from them, two little men in pools of their own misery.
"That wasn't really the Jedi way back there." Carth said.
"What do you mean?"
"Telling them to shut up? Lecturing two of the richest men on the planet as if they were children arguing over a toy?"
"Every now and then, you find those that won't listen to soft words and advice. People you have to slap so hard that they feel the blow a month later. This seemed like that kind of time."
"Next time just save the time and trouble and slap them." Canderous growled. "It's more fun too."
We headed east. The grove was at the bottom of the next pass, and we made good time. "Trouble." Canderous said.
I looked up, off in the distance, swoop bike were circling us. I counted seven. "Mando'a?"
"Three Mando'a, one of them is in Red armor. The rest are Duros." I nodded. Blue or blue green were simple troopers or noncoms. A red suit was a command officer.
"There." Canderous pointed at a bare hill to one side. "We have full 360-degree coverage, and they can't approach unnoticed."
"I don't think they intend to sneak up on us, Canderous."
We trudged up the hill, and waited. Sure enough, the swoop bikes dropped in a spiral, and landed so that we were surrounded. They dismounted, and climbed toward us, weapons at the ready.
Canderous stood, towering over us. He had set down the blaster cannon, and spread his arms wide like a cave bear. "I am Canderous Ordo, of Clan Ordo!" Canderous roared. "The dead in my wake number in the thousands, and my songs will be sung when your pallid clan is dust!" He bellowed a wordless battle cry full of anger and hunger. "What other clan has been so dishonored by your actions upon this world, insects? Clan Troska mourned their honor! Clan Sokor mourns their honor! Clan Kootir mourns their honor!" Canderous said. "Speak honor-less ones!"
The leader had stopped when Canderous issued his challenge. "Clan Ordo has lost its honor as well. We of the new Mandalorian make our own honor. I am Sherruk Zion of Clan Ordo!"
If anything, this infuriated Canderous even more. "Face me then Sherruk of no clan! Face me whelp!" He charged down the hill at them barehanded.
It was like two bull Bantha in a mating fight. Sherruk threw aside his weapon, and they met in a head on charge that would have thrown lesser men ten meters or more. They grappled, and Canderous looked like a maniac as he butted the smaller man off his feet. Sherruk rolled away, coming up then back in.
I looked at Carth. "At least this time I'm not the one charging in." Then I drew my lightsaber.
The Mandalorian to Sherruk's left laughed. "Bring it on, woman!" I'll add that toy to my collection!"
Carth's blaster roared. The last Mandalorian went over with his skull blown open. Then Carth spun, and began laying fire down on the Duros.
I engaged the unnamed Mandalorian as he drew his sword. I felt the feedback from the lightsaber trying to cut Beskar iron. I leaped backward, and blocked his swing. I saw an opening, and leaped coming down like an avenging hawk. He went down in a welter of blood. I looked to the top of the hill, where Carth stood just watching. I spun.
Canderous struck Sherruk so hard that his helmet flew to the side, shattered. Sherruk was in his thirties, a man with a feral look. He leaped in again and Canderous snatched him up, almost 200 kilos of man and armor held above his head as if it were a pillow. Then he slammed the man down so hard that he rebounded almost a meter. Sherruk screamed, clawing at his back. His legs didn't move, and his arms were getting weaker.
"Sad is the clan today, little nephew." Canderous said softly.
"Canderous, help, please..."
"As you gave help to Ilse, whom you raped then murdered before her father?" He asked gently. "As you helped those you enslaved? In your death will come redemption." Canderous ripped the datapad from his neck. Then he dropped it, holding out his hand to me. I handed him my lightsaber, and he ignited it and lowered the blade to the Soochir.
Sherruk gasped, eyes wide with terror.
"For the clan, nephew." He pushed down, and the metal and plastic melted into a puddle. "Go and maybe in the last day you will be worthy to return." He shut off the lightsaber, set it down, then reached out, snapping Sherruk's neck. He handed it back to me, looking at Carth.
"His dishonor is now mine. I shall expiate it before I die. That is how we deal with his kind."
The Mandalorian I had killed indeed did have a collection of lightsabers. Five of them. I gathered them up, and put them in a pack on one of the bikes. I set these bikes as well to return to the enclave. It was full dark, and while I wanted to continue, Canderous was in a deep depression. We lit a fire on the hill, and sat around it. Carth had found a couple of bottles of wine that he had held out, and he opened them. "Canderous, tell me of your battles."
"Why?" The answer was softer than you might imagine from such a huge man. "So we can fight again?"
"No. Because I think the custom is that you must ask another before you can tell yours." He held out the bottle. " 'And in circle they sat, and drank the wine they had taken from their enemies, and in their stories they drank not only to their own honored dead, but to those they had vanquished as well'. Is that the right quote?"
Canderous leaned up, taking the wine, and swallowed deeply before handing the bottle to me. "Sometimes the planets we faced had defenses. Our fleets were rarely strong enough to pulverize worlds as yours could, so we had to find other means. We were on the outer rim, and a planet named Kadir had a defense that would have shrugged off a regular assault, so a new weapon named the Basilisk war droid was to be tested."
"Big thing? Eight meters wide, three meters thick, looked like a big disk with legs?" Carth asked.
"Yes, you have seen them. What you didn't know though was the AIs of the first production run were stupid. Sometimes they would not orient themselves when entering atmosphere, and burned up. The engineers finally decided that we needed a man literally riding them to get them from orbit to the ground, and I was one of the first to test them in combat. My Phalanx of 50 warriors were deployed at 100 kilometers above the planet, and rode our Basilisks down through the hellfire of the atmosphere burning the ablative armor from their stomachs. Picture being able to reach out and touch the fire of such an event! It was madness, but that didn't stop three of my men from losing hands doing it.
"Well I dropped down right over a planetary defense grid..."