Translation guide from Mando'a:
aran/e = "guard." "e" suffix indicates plural form.
beskar'gam = "armor" (don't worry I won't use this every time)
burc'ya/e = "friend." "e" suffix indicates plural form.
Cabur'alor = "Regent." Literally means "guardian leader."
entye = "debt"
"Fote par Manda'yaim" = "Glory for Mandalore." A common warrior expression.
Kando'al'verde = "Marshal." Literally means "important commander."
Kyr'tsad = "Death Watch" (will only used when a character is speaking Mando'a)
Mand'alor = "sole ruler"
oriya = "city"
Ruug'verda = "Ancestors." Literally means "old warriors" but is more commonly used for the former
shabuir = "bastard" or similar levels of insult
Solus'alor/e = "Councilors" Literally means "united leaders." "e" suffix indicates plural form
Taakuir'tsad = "Horned Watch" (will only used when a character is speaking Mando'a)
XXX
Bo-Katan Kryze
XXX
She spent the rest of her time in daylight reviewing various reports about the casualties, financial toll, work stoppages, and other headaches that now afflicted Keldabe. Most glaring of all was that Kellor Refinery was just one of the five of the city's seven facilities that had been utterly demolished. These facilities were the prime producers of materials used in the shipbuilding done above planet by MandalMotors, whose designs were coveted and enjoyed throughout the whole galaxy enjoyed.
More painfully, they also had a contract with Bo-Katan's administration to furnish them with ships. Everything thing from Kom'rk-class starfighters to Crusader-class gunships to even two sizable Keldabe-class battlecruisers. All these ships were meant to protect the trade routes the Empire so gluttonously demanded be kept open from piracy, and now there was no way MandalMotors could fulfill the contract.
Nor could they also keep up its hidden, lesser clause.
It could be done through the import of the needed materials and components, but that would come at an exorbitant cost compared to homemade production. Not to mention all the jobs that would be cut out from Mandalore's own factories, which would…
Worries of this and more tended to instigate a maddening spiral. She was sincerely grateful to herself when she made herself cap their advance by standing up from her desk at the head of the hastily assembly emergency room to announce she would sleep for the night. All of her solus'alore except Tiber had already gone to rest, and he gave her only a grunt of acknowledgement from the towers of datacards he was half-hidden behind.
Good. She had no desire to speak to him anyway after what had happened at the trial.
She strutted from the room with her arane in tow and ascended the turbolift up to her private quarters. She needed sensible minds free of political angles or social conflicts. Anything to get her out of the sticky mess of the day.
She left the two warriors at the door to her room without a word; they knew their place, had served with her as compatriots in Death Watch and then as allies in her revolt against Maul. Loyal people like that were hard to find and she trusted few others like them.
Yet they were not of the same mind as those she wanted to talk to. They were at their core soldiers, comrades, royal alane. They followed her orders and schedule so easily that they could have been droids underneath the armor and she would not have been surprised. Their loyalty to her and Mandalore was unruffled and unbreakable.
What she needed were her burc'ye.
She briefly collapsed onto her bed for a moment of relief. But even the soft comfort it was meant to provide was difficult to get through the bulkiness of her beskar'gam. With grace she began to strip the pieces off and put them on their armor stand. She caught a look at her face in the mirror mid-task and grimaced; it was haggard, pale, with her jade eyes blemished by fermenting bags.
Do I really want to put on makeup when I'm just going to sleep after? She decided she didn't care; besides, she was hardly any good at it anyway.
The last of her armor found their place on the stand. Wrapping herself in a robe, she approached her terminal and keyed for a comm channel to be opened with two people on the tightest of transponder frequencies she had. As it turned out, both had been diligently waiting for her to make contact; she had alerted them to the "trial" that would happen today, voicing her concerns and in turn being provided the angle she should pursue. At the end of that night they had been as hopeful as she felt.
She imagined once more they would mirror her current attitude, and she was right.
"Moore intervened in the trial? Does he not understand outsiders are merely guests in this equation?" Fenn Rau asked, sounding shocked. The Journeyman Protector of Concord Dawn had had a very rocky beginning with her; the man had hated Death Watch and everything it'd represented, had even fought alongside with the Republic at her group's expense. His attraction to them had quickly melted with the rise of the Empire, forbidding them from using the colony world of Concord Dawn as a military base. In that she had seen his heart belonged to Mandalore, and when he saw that she was of the same soul, they had become first quick friends and then political allies. Still, she had the feeling Rau wasn't fully aware of how different the Empire was from the Republic, and thus his advice was more opinion than practical to her.
She nodded to his delayed, foot tall hologram on the black comm board; Concord Dawn was much further than Krownest. "'Intervened' is almost too light an explanation; he took over the entire procedure. I wasn't about to challenge him to his face with all his clones about, and I didn't want him to erupt in some rage."
"You shouldn't walk on eggshells with the giant shabuir," Rau scoffed.
"I need to establish a good track record with him and the Empire before I can start pushing on more sensitive topics," she reminded him. "That was your suggestion, need I remind you."
"It was a trial, Bo, and of a former warrior of the Taakuir'tsad at that!" Rau insisted. "If kissing the shined boots of Moore is your idea of keeping a good track record, perhaps next you should suck—"
"Calm yourself, Rau," said Primir Wren, his hair grayed but eyes alight with an inner fire. Seeing that instead of just hearing his voice did so much more to the aura he presented. He was the part of the generation to fight in the Great Clan War that had ended with Satine introducing pacifist reforms on their father's death. However, unlike the many other veterans who had ultimately been exiled to Concordia, the war had made him throw in with Satine's efforts. The fire in his eyes burned not with a passion for violence, but with the same genuine passion for the planet Bo-Katan had. Unlike Rau, however, his experience allowed him to be an actual advisor.
Rau remained tense. "The man has no right to interfere in our ways. It's the type of interference I've been worried about since the Empire first made their requests for Concord Dawn."
"The Republic wouldn't have done this," Wren agreed, fingering his smoothed, wrinkled chin. "These are unusual times. But we must recall our circumstances: the sudden disappearance of the Jedi from command alongside the Republic makes everything unusual. Perhaps we are going to see a much more interventionist galactic government now."
Bo-Katan sighed. "They're afraid of something like Kyr'tsad returning, no doubt."
"Or anything resembling the old Mandalore," Wren said grimly. "One well-trained Mandalorian is worth a hundred of these clone troopers in my humble opinion. No doubt the Empire shares it to some extent." His hologram shimmered and distorted with the distance for a moment. "Their grip on the Outer Rim isn't very stabilized; even after a year the Confederacy still has holdouts. Having a thorn like Mandalore to deal with would greatly slow them down—"
"As we rightfully should," Fenn Rau snorted. "If men like Gar Saxon are elected, they'll always remember how the Empire helped them out of tight moments like what he faced. He'll become an open collaborator, a puppet whose entye is the string of Emperor. If such a fate were to come to pass, then I would advocate for working against the Empire so that they grow tired of managing Mandalore and leave!"
Old Wren smiled with amusement. "You're talking of another revolt, Rau. You were not here to see the effects of the original, so I would keep your mouth closed on bold words like that."
Even with the details forgone in his miniaturized form, Bo-Katan could see the other's embarrassment. "I… I didn't mean to.."
"Besides, Gar Saxon has not been elected yet, nor will he. Not when we have a strong and proven Mand'alor like Lady Kryze right here." She smiled slightly at the little holos, trying not to think of her lapse in confidence with him a few days earlier. Still, to hear his confidence and use of the title warmed her insides just a bit.
"But still, to Rau's point. If the Imperials' efforts were troubled... I believe they would more than anything desire a greater presence." He took on a more somber face. "Our only safety net here is you, Lady Kryze. You have the support of the people because of your affiliation with the Duchess, who brought great peace, and Vizsla, who brought great honor. You yourself are of an incredible record, in no small part to your leadership role in removing the pretender Maul. The Empire will need someone like you in charge if they want to keep things smooth; it is why they have refused to throw in their support behind any candidate."
"Why not openly support me, then?" she questioned.
"Because of Mandalorians like dear Fenn here," he said, half-joking, half-serious. "Isolationists are very abundant, especially after the damage of the Siege and what some see as a betrayal by the extended occupation. Many want the Empire gone, but know they won't leave."
"Not without a heavy fight, that is," Rau added bitterly.
"My point exactly." All three of them laughed, and Bo-Katan felt a wave of relief wash over her like the sea. So long since she'd been able to put forward a genuine smile, a genuine laugh…
Her laughter eventually subsided. "What if I don't want things to be smooth?" she asked. "With the Empire?"
"Don't think selfishly," Wren said sharply contrarily to Rau's approving nod. "The Empire is in control now. Already I can see their iron hide, where the Republic was clay. If you are not in power to act as a go-between, there is nothing for any of us. They would just subvert one of the candidates into a puppet, just as Rau said earlier."
"The Empire doesn't control Concord Dawn," Rau said flatly. "They can be opposed, so don't obey them, my lady. That is my word."
"I will take everything you both have said into consideration," she said slowly. She suddenly felt very tired and overwhelmed, mostly by Primir's advocacy of her being the go between the Empire and Mandalore. How did you do it, Satine? I wish you were hear to answer my questions, too. "Thank you both for your words. But all this talk of the coming election… what do you make of what befell Cleitus Rook?"
Both Primir and Fenn shifted uncomfortably. "Political assassination is not a foreign tool of the Mandalorians," Primir said slowly. "Kyr'tsad tried many times to eliminate your sister."
Bo-Katan winced. "Thanks for the reminder."
"My point being is that it's not unusual." He took a deep breath. "What is wrong with this scenario is the sheer loss of life. Vizsla sought to eliminate Satine because she represented the New Mandalorian ideology, but that at worst meant killing her and her immediate protectors. He made sure never to endanger the lives of other Mandalorians if he could help it."
"We have seven additional explosions besides the one that killed Cleitus and all his supporters," Rau bit out. "This wasn't meant to solely be an assassination. It was a planned massacre."
Her fists clenched on the desk. "Yes," she said icily. "We can agree on that. Whoever was responsible, I will gladly see them suffer before we hang them."
Primir was silent for a time. "A shame we could not pin it on Gar Saxon. He would have been a useful scapegoat."
"Blaming him was hardly artificial," Kryze insisted. "The evidence was there, we all saw it, and his presence was just too convenient. I'm not convinced he wasn't involved; Moore's argument was just to spite me."
"Did you really believe your case, or do you just hate the man?"
"Can't it be both?" she demanded.
"Perhaps. But now that that plot has failed, there's no shame in admitting we were wrong. He was released far too soon before the bombings; the planning and insertion of the explosives must have taken months."
She opened her mouth, closed it. Fenn likewise stayed grudgingly silent. "Fine," she said after a moment. "What do you make of the bombings, then?"
Primir shrugged. "Until the investigation proceeds further, I have no idea. It could easily just be an extremist sect with an agenda against Clan Rook or Cleitus directly. Such things are not uncommon."
"What about the other candidates?"
"The target seems to have been Cleitus and then Keldabe's manufacturing infrastructure, which has now crippled MandalMotors. I don't see the other candidates being targets."
"Fenn?"
The other rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I don't know. Maybe extra precautions should be taken to protect them. If only to show the Empire we're trying to ensure the democracy they want here passes without issue."
She snorted. "Oh, so now you're siding with the Imperials."
The Protector gave a mock laugh. "Very funny. But Moore will be watchful for activity now; if he sees you do nothing, perhaps his suspicions would shift. That would not be good for your image."
"You mean to say he would accuse me of being behind the bombings?"
"Preposterous," Primir ground out. "Even he wouldn't be so idiotic."
"Either way, I don't want to see more Mandalorians die, period." Fenn looked to her pointedly. "That was one of the first mission statements you made after the Siege. Shouldn't we look to circumventing it as best we can?"
She nodded. "Agreed. We'll heighten security for the candidates. Especially with the First Primary approaching."
"I'll drum up some security plans for you," Primir promised. "Save you the energy to spend on the recovery mission in Keldabe. I'll have them for you to look at in two days."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "Lastly… what should be done about Gar Saxon?"
Rau's lip curled. "Arrange an accident. He's a traitor to—"
"His brother and sister are part of your Provisional Council, are they not?" Wren interrupted.
"They are, yes: Sarri and Tiber. They were present at the trial."
"Which do you trust more?"
"Sarri" was what she wanted to say, especially with Tiber's backstab at the hearing. But the young Nite Owl had opened her mouth against her too, bringing up Gar's savior actions that had initiated Moore's disruption. She did not believe Sarri had meant for that to happen—she'd caught her death glare at the commodore early on—but she also knew she had not enjoyed the angle Bo-Katan had taken against her brother.
What did that mean on her character? That she would choose her brother over her planet, over her Cabur'alor? No, not when she had not stayed with her Saxon brothers when Maul killed Vizsla; Sarri had gone with Bo-Katan in revolt and fought unceasingly by her side since then. Tiber had returned only after Maul's first disappearance, and there was just something about the man she didn't like.
The answer, in the end, was still the same. "Sarri," she said. "She believes in me entirely."
Wren nodded, a small smile on his lips. "I thought as much, too. That girl is indeed a gem, and a fine person to play holochess with as well. Ask her to keep track of Gar's motives and actions; as family, she must be a confidant of his just like Tiber. Get her close to him and you will have your best chance at seeing what Gar Saxon is truly after."
"He just said that he's running to try and ruin your stance at the trial," Rau said angrily. "That is painfully obvious."
"Then we need proof of that to show Moore so he can reverse his decision," Wren said with some exasperation. He bowed his head to Kryze. "I must return to my duties on Krownest, my lady. Good luck in your choices. Fote par Manda'yaim."
"Fote par Manda'yaim." Fenn Rau echoed, bowing his head reluctantly, no doubt wanting to speak more.
"Fote par Manda'yaim," she said wearily, then ended the connection with a closed fist on the power switch. She all but flung herself back onto the bed, exhausted, knowing only more would await her tomorrow.
But that also meant it would hold till then. The moment her eyes closed she was asleep.
XXX
Tiber Saxon
XXX
The dark hung heavier than usual tonight; perhaps it was some of the smoke from Keldabe clouding the atmosphere. It made it harder to read the street names, which was made doubly more infuriating by this being an unfamiliar part of Sundari. A lower middle-class end of the city, a district he ordinarily would have no interest in.
Hell, he was losing interest even now. He was just about to give up and send Gar an insulting message when he finally spotted the name of the inn, whose flickering purple and blue lettering was burnt out on two letters.
Muttering to himself, Tiber walked over to it and opened the front door. It had a complete barroom, though it reeked of alcohol and perhaps more underworldly delights. He made a note to send some of his officers to stop by the inn another night to bust it for contraband.
For now, though, he could admit that such an atmosphere would definitely keep the rooms cheap. For Gar, with virtually no money, it would work.
He found him at a small table tucked into a corner, a tall window to the side. He sat himself without introduction. "Quite a show you pulled off today," Tiber commented, pulling the concealing hood off over his head. "Definitely had Kryze and the Council in a twist. Came up with all that by yourself?"
"I did," Gar confirmed with a self-satisfied grin, hands wrapped around a mug of something hot. "Thanks for stepping in when you did. I wasn't sure you would."
Tiber snorted. "Yeah, you'll owe me for it."
"No, I won't. Why did you actually have the damned recording on you?"
"Relax, it was an edited version. I spent the night making a close copy; they never would have suspected it wasn't the original."
Gar grimaced but indeed loosened up some. "Good. I take it nobody decided to look at it anyway?"
"Of course not. Kryze's bunch were too busy being stunned you'd got one over them, while the Imperials are too arrogant, thinking were all mongrel dogs who don't have the intellect for politics." Tiber's thin eyebrows furrowed with some real anger. "I can't wait until the commodore gets posted elsewhere. Little condescending shabuir."
"That little condescending shabuir stopped Kryze from locking me up with no due process," Gar bit out. "The nerve of that woman—how she cobbled together the resistance to Maul without getting a blaster bolt in the back of her head will always confuse me."
"Probably because she has a beskar helmet on?"
"Oh ha ha," Gar muttered, sipping the mug. "She has none of Vizsla's charisma and all his bravado. That trial only proved me right."
"About what?"
"About what I talked about with you." He cast a wary glance over the whole hall, but its few occupants were either tucked into their own conversations or too lost to drink to care. "That she has little to no chance of pulling off being a leader in the long-term."
"I wouldn't be so sure. You're forgetting she has a very colorful history, and Mandalorians love their history." Tiber chuckled scornfully. "Her polls are low, but she still has a steady ten-percent lead over next runner-up."
Gar sighed. "Don't be purposefully obtuse, Tiber. You've always been very aware of your surroundings, and the need to adapt, just like me. I can already see Kryze won't last, she's too rooted into our traditions, when the Empire clearly has no regard for them. Even if she's elected, they'll oust her the moment she tries to run the planet against what they want; who will lead then?"
Tiber smiled thinly. "You?"
"Why not?" Gar replied with an equally cold smirk. The two had always been rivals, with Gar seeking to consistently gain the praise their father tended to give to the eldest son. Tiber could still see some of the childhood grudge simmering beneath the surface of the chilled exterior. It amused him, and as he let that show Gar became more irritated in his speech. "I've seen the galaxy, Tiber. I know how it works, more than you. I also know how Mandalore works. Bo-Katan only knows the latter half, and that makes her incredibly vulnerable to the influence of an external power like the Empire. I just need to figure out how to exploit that vulnerability."
"While simultaneously bolstering yourself in the eyes of Moore? Don't think I didn't notice you trying to lick his shiny black boots up there."
Gar reclined knowingly in his seat. "Close. He'll go as well."
The amusement faded from Tiber's face, his aquatic eyes narrowing before he turned away to look out the window. Barely any lights shined in the city. "That's insane."
"Why?"
"Do you not listen, even to yourself?" Tiber drawled. "Moore represents the Empire's power here, just as the clones represent it's force. Killing him will only bring another officer down on us, and who knows if he would be even more unpredictable or xenophobic?"
"I know," Gar said with the same twisted smile. "I guess you're not very good at listening either, because that was the hook I used to get you to listen to me the other night."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning you'll be his replacement."
The older Saxon paused, instead folding his hands together on top of the dirty table. "You must have a lot of confidence in your plan," he said tightly. "Not just acquiring the role of viceroy for yourself, but getting me to manage Imperial affairs in the sector? I hope your plan includes getting me command of one of those fancy Star Destroyers Kuat is supposedly building now."
"Why not? You're already Kando'al'verde, aren't you? The background and experience is there. You already act more as a liaison between Kryze's administration and the Empire more than she does. All we have to do is find a way to discredit Moore and prove your worth as a worthy sector commander."
"You make it sound so easy," Tiber said sardonically. However, he was starting to have a newfound appreciation for his brother's scheming. If it all went well, things could end up looking very different around Mandalore.
Still, as was standard for Gar's impulsive nature, there were holes left unanswered. He put a hand to his chin in mock thought. "And what about Sarri?"
Gar blinked, and Tiber smiled behind his hand. Yes, not only had his brother clearly forgotten to fit their dear sister into his upending designs for the planet, but he had not anticipated Tiber to start throwing counterpoints as if he were an equal partner, either.
"She doesn't need to know about any of this," he decided after a long drink from his mug. "When we come to power, we can give her a position she can some good from. But she doesn't have a good understanding of the galaxy; she could rant about her good-natured ideals almost as much as she could orate the stories Mother used to tell us word-for-word." He paused again, a new thought entering his mental arena. "She could be a connecting line of legitimacy to the old government. Become the face of the new one."
"Perhaps," Tiber said indifferently. "I only brought her up because she's loyal to Mandalore. To Kryze."
"Ah," Gar grunted, now understanding. "You think she'll betray us if we bring her in."
"Without a doubt."
"Disgusting," Gar muttered. "Has she no loyalty to family?"
Tiber gave a wry smile that helped Gar realize the irony of his phrase. "Okay, she did help back at the trial," the younger Saxon conceded. "But my point still stands. We can't tell her."
"I wasn't going to, anyway." Tiber stretched his arms and legs. "It's a grand plan, little brother. For now, though, you need to start planning how you're going to launch your campaign. Better make it soon—you got less time than everyone else to start catching people's eyes. Not to mention the First Primary is within three weeks; how the hell you'll attract enough attention to make the cut is beyond me. So, I'm not going to take you all that seriously until I see you up on that stage."
Gar rolled his eyes above the rim of his mug. He brought it back down with a satisfied expression. "Don't worry about that until I say to. You just focus on doing a good job and doing your part in Keldabe's recovery."
"Yeah, yeah." Tiber stood, putting the hood back over his head. He was about to nod his farewell when a final curiosity came over him. "I just have one more thing to ask," he intoned.
"What is it?"
"Are you doing this for yourself? Or because you think it's what's best for Mandalore? Or maybe you just want to get back at Father and restore some nobility to the Saxon name."
Gar shrugged. "Why not all three?"