Kel flinched in the pilot's station as a turbolaser flashed past the Ebon Hawk's viewport, blindingly bright. Someone had closed the outer airlock doors of the Ebon Hawk, but Kel didn't know if it was Jolee… he couldn't sense anyone in the airlock.
It didn't matter though.
"Get us out of here!" a man in a ragged jacket demanded, clutching the back of Kel's seat.
"I can't. The Harbinger's shields are up," Kel growled.
A woman that Kel couldn't sense quickly sat in the co-pilot's seat, buckling herself in place.
"The shield generators on El-five hammer-head cruisers were kept here, at the midship line, and most ship designs are pretty conservative," the woman said, playing with the co-pilot's station, flagging a target on the Ebon Hawk's sensor data of the Harbinger.
"Are you sure? That looks pretty exposed," Kel said doubtfully, dropping the nose of the Ebon Hawk and edging back into the cruiser's shadow, where the turbolasers couldn't quite reach them.
"It let them tie the generators almost directly into the ship engines," the woman replied.
Enemy fire raked the ship's shields, throwing Atton down on one knee. Laser cannons, not turbolasers, the rogue recognized.
The pilot didn't seem too concerned about the lasers, and Atton peeked at the ship displays. He found the shield indicator and blinked. The ship was still at roughly ninety percent integrity.
The ship jumped again. Red turbolasers slammed into the unshielded Harbinger's hull, ejecting globules of molten armor plating and flotsam from explosive decompression.
"Shields are fluctuating, but are still up," Choy reported, studying the co-pilot's readouts.
"Hit it again?" Rand suggested, trying to look deeper into the new hole on the cruiser.
"Don't. We might hit the power core now," Choy said hastily.
"Agreed," the Jedi pilot sighed, frowning thoughtfully.
Destabilizing the cruiser's power core at this range would be a fatal.
There was a secondary explosion which threw more junk out of the hole in the side of the cruiser.
"Shields are down," Choy reported coolly.
"Now get us out of here!" Atton barked.
"With pleasure," the Jedi pilot said, distracted.
"Choy, switch with me," Atton said, "I'll working on jump calculations."
The mechanic unbuckled, slithering into one of the auxiliary chairs without question as Atton took her place. She'd probably already thought this through to its conclusion.
The ship rocked violently, this time from a turbolaser impact, as they accelerated away in the Harbinger's engine wake. Shields had dropped to half power.
"I have calculations, but we can't jump until we clear the field," Atton reported.
Another turbolaser hit glanced the ship's aft shields, throwing Atton against his harness.
Normally a freighter this size should have been able to outrun a cruiser, but neither ship could reach top speed while dodging asteroids… so acceleration was limited.
"The Harbinger… it's accelerating," Choy said, horrified.
"Are they insane?!" Atton demanded, glaring at the readings. That ship didn't have shields.
One of the rear cameras showed a small asteroid fragment shear off part of the top of the cruiser's hammer… which also removed one of the heavy turbolasers.
"I have secondary detonations," Choy said, her eyes meeting Atton's for a moment. She was terrified.
Atton looked back at the screen. Some of the smaller asteroids ahead of them had exploded, the peragian fuel deposits ignited by several of the Harbinger's "misses."
"Maybe it'll stay small," Atton breathed.
A spinning, burning chunk of rock the size of a ministry-class shuttle hit the surface of another asteroid, this one roughly a kilometer in diameter.
For five seconds, nothing happened, then the surface of the asteroid rippled, moments before an inferno erupted.
"Evade!" Atton screamed.
The Jedi was already throwing the ship into a port-side turn, hard enough to overwhelm the inertial compensators, choking everyone against their restraints. The high-G maneuver seemed to last minutes (in reality only four or five seconds). Then just as everyone sagged against their now limp restraints, the incoming shockwave kicked them in the ass.
"Can't see them, can't see them," the Jedi whispered, stressed, as he wove his way back towards the Harbinger. Another small asteroid exploded directly in their path, and the Jedi flinched in surprise.
The Jedi slashed the ship past the Harbinger, high on her port side, juking past the remaining turbolasers on the cruiser's head, but enduring the gauntlet of lighter laser cannons that lined its flanks, intended to deter fighter craft from strafing runs.
"Shields have almost failed. I'm diverting power from ray to particle shielding," Choy reported. Good call. We can't take another laser blast, but we're more likely to hit something solid out here at these speeds, Atton concluded. He glanced at the line of explosions behind them. They were just ahead of the chain reaction. The Harbinger tried to maneuver, to turn about and resume the chase. It had taken serious damage though from its headlong pursuit. Atton lost sight of it as the line of explosions swept over the vessel.
Atton glanced at the sensors. They were slowly losing ground. They couldn't jump until they cleared the field… and the Jedi was a mediocre pilot, forced to take long detours around certain patches of the more chaotic asteroids.
"Jedi, give me flight control," Atton said sharply.
"No," the Jedi replied, flinching and throwing the ship around a rock that had tumbled across their path.
"I'm a pilot, I know this field," Atton argued.
"I… can't," the Jedi admitted.
"Look. I don't need to see. I know," Atton said, fumbling for anything he could to wrest control.
The Jedi stared straight ahead for several seconds. Then he hit a button on the console.
"Transferring control," the Jedi whispered.
Atton's hand tightened on his suddenly responsive flight stick, and his panels shifted their displays.
"What's she called?" Atton demanded. There was a 20 km asteroid coming up, which he recognized as asteroid Sigma-42 by its disc shaped profile (since this ship didn't have the drift charts).
It had a thirty meter wide corridor that ran through its axis.
"Who?" the Jedi asked.
"The ship, what's her name?" Atton snarled.
"Ebon Hawk," the Jedi answered.
The Hawk was a responsive girl, Atton allowed, but he didn't know if she was a lady… or a bitch.
Atton continued to pour on speed and the ship eagerly leapt to the task.
"What are you—!" the Jedi yelped, hand hovering over the button to resume normal flight operations.
"Trust me," Atton hissed. It looked like they were going to crash at the bottom of a crater… only for it to be revealed as a sharply canted tunnel mouth at the last moment.
Sensors read no obstructions at the end of the 3 km drilled tunnel, so Atton continued to throttle up.
After this… Atton checked his mental drift map… at roughly this time… Pi-23 and Pi-24 should be right about… there.
The Hawk flashed out of the tunnel mouth, and between two tumbling twin asteroids, with easily twenty meters of clearance.
"Choy, how we doing?" Atton asked, not daring to tear his eyes away from his flying.
"The wave is still overtaking us," Choy answered flatly.
"Glad to hear it," Atton answered automatically, picking an almost straight path out of the field, at reckless speed.
"Be ready to jump the second we clear the field," Atton told the Jedi.
The Jedi nodded grimly.
The shields were struggling to keep up with diverting the miniscule flotsam and debris of the asteroid field, especially at their current speed.
"Choy, can you divert power from the guns to shields?" Atton asked.
"I already did. It's why they haven't failed yet," Choy replied tightly.
A red light started blinking urgently in Atton's peripheral. It looked important.
"Time to shock wave impact?" Atton asked.
"Twelve seconds," The Jedi answered.
They had almost reached the edge of the field. Atton opened the Ebon Hawk's throttle all the way.
"Divert all power to forward particle shields," Atton snarled.
The Jedi hastily obeyed, then placed his hand on the hyperdrive levers, staring at his display, as it counted down.
Atton didn't dodge a couple of the fighter-sized asteroids. There wasn't time. They glanced off the particle shields.
The red light stopped blinking, remaining lit.
"Shields have failed," Choy said remotely.
Then the star field stretched into infinity, and hyperspace swallowed them whole.
((()))
"Well, that was fun, now, who are you people?" Atton demanded, turning to face the young Jedi. The young man stared at Atton, "I don't think you need to know," he decided.
"Look, Jedi, someone just killed a planet. I'd like to know why," Atton snarled.
"It's not your concern," the Jedi answered.
"I take almost dying very personally. I'm making it my concern," Atton yelled.
"Choy, back me up here," Atton said, glancing over his shoulder, but the cockpit was empty.
"I need to check on Jolee," the Jedi said, edging past Atton.
"I'm not finished with you," Atton growled. He could hear a utility droid's chirps and beeps cascading aggravatingly somewhere close by.
"And someone shut off that damned—" Atton broke off, staring, as he barged into what he guessed was the main hold. Choy was on her knees, one arm thrown around a utility droid, the other patting the head of a peragus mark one droid.
She was shaking, but her back was to Atton.
Then she stood up, discretely wiping her face with her sleeve, casually, before turning towards Atton, and the Jedi next to him.
"You saved my droids," she told the young Jedi, eyes locked on his chin. Her voice was flat, but Atton could almost hear the welds on her emotions creaking.
"Actually, our utility droid—" the Jedi started to say, but Choy cut him off with her hand, "Yes, Three-see told me. You brought them along though. You could have just abandoned them in the hanger. So… thank you," the mechanic said softly.
"I… I need to check on Jolee," the Jedi said awkwardly.
Choy nodded, staring at her utility droid.
It was… unnerving. Atton hadn't seen her shed a tear for a single one of their coworkers on Peragus, but two droids were enough? It didn't add up.
"Choy… are you—" Atton started.
"This ship took damage. I'm going to start checking systems," Choy interrupted, moving off deeper into the ship, trailing her retinue.
"Fine," Atton muttered, irritated by the brush-off.
((()))
Well… not dead.
The splitting headache was a clue.
Jolee reluctantly sat up, recognizing his bunk on the Ebon Hawk by touch and scent. His migraine firmly vetoed any ideas involving cracking open an eyelid or two.
Not even the medbay. The young'ns had just tossed old Jolee in his damned bunk, to sleep off vacuum exposure.
Heh. That was gratitude for you.
Jolee cautiously pivoted, letting his feet touch the deck. The cold metal told him that Kel had been kind enough to at least pull off Jolee's boots before putting him to bed.
The steady thrum also told him they were in hyperspace.
Sighing, the old Jedi stood and inched his way along the wall, suspicious of any objects lurking to ambush his vulnerable toes. Knowing Lashowe there was guaranteed to be at least something sharp lying on the floor near him… broken glass, caltrops… anti-personnel mines… something.
Jolee made it to the main hold without any injuries. He could hear voices, and metallic noises that said tools, to him, from deeper in the ship. Jolee found the voices first.
"You're getting slow, old man," Lashowe hissed tiredly. Jolee frowned, brushing the edges of the young woman's mind. She was injured.
"What happened to you?" Jolee asked.
"Assassin. I killed him," Kel answered tersely.
"Where's the body?" Jolee asked.
"Starboard cargo bay," Kel answered.
Kel had either been extremely lucky (and yes, luck did exist, despite what the Jedi Masters claimed), or… highly motivated. Or both.
"Where's the woman?" Jolee asked.
"The mechanic?" Kel asked.
"Yes," Jolee said slowly.
"Follow your ears," Lashowe answered.
"A pleasure, as always, Lashowe," Jolee said brightly, and could hear Lashowe's teeth grinding as he left. He didn't needle the woman more, he had an enigma to find.
((()))
"So, will she fly?" a voice asked. Choy stopped her diagnostic of the power distribution system. There was a fault somewhere, but none of the sensors were triggering… which meant a faulty sensor as well.
"She's already flying," Choy pointed out, without bothering to crawl from among the cables that filled the cramped conduit space. She liked the closeness.
"I'll give you that," the voice chuckled. Choy looked down, to where her bare feet were sticking out a little into the corridor. Another pair of bare feet stood next to hers. The rich brown of the skin hinted at the Jedi whose lightsaber she had held.
He wasn't moving.
Choy could play that game. She lived it. The mechanic went back to isolating the sensors, and deliberately overloading them (safely), to see if they triggered. So far, they all had, so she kept looking for the faulty sensor. Once she found it, she'd be able to begin repairs, and restore the particle shields. The ray shields would take longer, she needed to replace the burnt out relays.
After about ten minutes, the Jedi coughed politely, "Sounds like you're busy, and I hate interrupting busy, but I've got some questions for you."
"No," Choy answered.
"Hmm. Well, that's a problem, because I need some answers. I think you have them," the Jedi pondered.
"I don't have anything you need. Ask the pilot," Choy snapped. A sensor stayed green.
Found it, Choy smiled tightly. The failure was in the starboard aft quarter. Excellent.
"Alright. Let me phrase things differently. What are you?" the Jedi asked, this time there wasn't anything friendly about his voice.
"I'm a mechanic. I fix things," Choy shot back.
"Not good enough," the Jedi replied calmly.
"It will have to be. You have no authority over me, Peragus was independent of the Republic," Choy pointed out.
Jolee frowned. The woman wasn't stupid, and she wasn't responding to pointed persuasion. Perhaps a proper threat was required?
"That may be true… unless you were responsible in some way for the deaths of the Harbinger's crew…" the Jolee trailed off meaningfully, "In which case your possessions would likely be seized for analysis, and you'd be held for questioning—"
Jolee heard the clatter of falling tools and the woman thrashed her way out of the access hatch. She was holding a hydrospanner in a way that suggested to Jolee that she understood it's more violent applications, and was seriously considering experimenting with them on Jolee.
"Don't. Touch. My. Droids," she said thickly, voice trembling with rage.
And fear.
Jolee stared her down, but she didn't look away, didn't blink.
Jolee felt like his soul was being watered down, and drained into those eyes, a little at a time. Which was ridiculous.
"My dear… we need to talk," Jolee said sternly.
At the word talk, the woman blinked, and quickly looked away.
"No. Talking never helps," she muttered, contemplating the tool in her hand.
"Oh I disagree. Never is a big word. Talking sometimes helps," Jolee said, grinning.
The woman was in control again though.
"You can't seize my droids. The Republic can detain us, but Peragus was granted exclusion from the Republic charter. The Republic can request I be turned over to them, but cannot demand anything from Peragus," the woman said calmly.
"That's probably true… but is there anything left of Peragus? That agreement was built on leverage. Peragus had fuel, lots of it, albeit crude and very dangerous. The Republic needs fuel… but without fuel, what does Peragus have?" Jolee asked.
"I'm not hurting anyone," the woman whispered.
Jolee felt a pang of sympathy, but little else. For all he knew, this was an act. He couldn't be sure.
"I'm sure you're not, miss, but someone is. Something attacked us on the Harbinger. Something I've never fought before. I find it curious that such a creature would be drawn to a place like Peragus. A place you happen to be," Jolee said calmly.
"I… I need to fix the shields," the woman said, troubled. She whistled, and one of the utility droids from Peragus trundled up, and beeped at her inquisitively.
Jolee shook his head and went looking for his boots. And his lightsaber.
((()))
Choy stood in the sonic shower, her eyes closed as she let the grime of Peragus slough away; the dried kolto, the blood, grease… all of it.
The mechanic stepped from the tiny stall, and grabbed a pile of clothing, from a different crewmember… which meant she didn't have to wear a dead man's clothes. Boots had been included as well, though they pinched slightly.
3C-FD blatted at her, as she walked from the ship's refresher, and bumped its coin shaped head gently against her knee.
[Do you feel better?]
"Yes Three-see. I do," Choy smiled patting the droid's flat head. She'd never programmed that mannerism into the droid. It had picked it up on its own.
"Why didn't you name them?" Atton asked, startling Choy. She spun, spotting him sitting in a corner of the main hold, studying a datapad.
"They already had names," Choy responded, moving towards the aft of the main hold, to the corridor that led to the starboard cargo bay.
"Real names, not designations," Atton needled.
Choy paused, glaring at the pilot, who smirked at her, tabbing down to the next page on his pad.
"To them, it is a real name. I'll not impose another on them for vanity," Choy hissed.
"Oh… so if one of them gets a wire crossed, and decides they're king of the droids, you'll go along with it?" Atton challenged.
Choy raised an eyebrow, "How do you know they aren't?"
Atton blinked, and Choy disappeared down the corridor. Her utility droid made a trilling noise at him as it followed her, its photoreceptor pointed at him.
Atton scowled, the little trash compacter was laughing at him.
((()))
Choy sat at the tiny work bench, studying the surgical assistant droid she'd rescued from the Harbinger. She'd already used a mild solvent to gently scrub the blood off the poor droid's casing. Opening its internal housing took longer, as she wasn't used to working on such a small droid.
[What are you doing?]
Choy looked over, as the Jedi's utility droid rolled up to her, jockeying for position with 3C-FD, and FS-907. They didn't want to break ranks, but let the outsider move a little closer to their mistress.
"What's your name?" Choy asked the utility droid, studying its light gray panels. There seemed to be more panels than there should have been. Concealed weapons perhaps?
[My designation is T3-M4]
"Thank you for rescuing my droids, Tee-three," Choy said, smiling at T3.
[I needed them to escape impound. They responded to my signal.] T3 answered.
"Yes, but you could have left them behind afterwards," Choy pointed out.
[I did. They followed me.] the droid answered.
Choy studied the interior of the medical droid. She spotted several singed components, as well as loose circuits.
[Do you require medical attention?] T3 asked.
"No," Choy replied.
[Then why are you attempting to repair that unit?]
"Because it's broken. If I can fix it, I will," Choy answered.
[That statement is not feasible. You cannot fix everything you encounter] T3 argued.
"That isn't the point. I don't have to fix everything, just everything I can."
Choy removed a ruined motivator, studying it, before placing it to the side. She'd need to find something equivalent…
[You are strange, human].
Choy smiled, as the utility droid trundled away.
((()))
"Respectfully sir, stop fussing, you're making it worse…" Sergeant Jordo sighed, trying to straighten Carth's dress uniform.
"The medals are pulling the damn thing down," Admiral Onasi complained.
The Sojourn had arrived seven hours ahead of Carth's intended schedule, so he wasn't too concerned. He still had twelve hours until the wedding.
"Then don't wear the medals," Jordo replied.
"I have to. I'm in dress uniform, its regulation," Carth grumbled.
"Then wear something else," Jordo suggested.
Carth looked at his aide suspiciously.
"Like what?" Carth asked.
The corner of Jordo's mouth quirked slightly, and the whipcord thin man retreated from the back half of Carth's ship cabin, disappearing into the foyer section, reserved for "meetings."
The former sith commando returned a moment later and tossed a formless package, wrapped in flimsi, onto Carth's bunk.
"I think this might fit, sir," Jordo said calmly.
Carth tore the papery material, pulling out the contents.
Black, shimmery cloth billowed across his fingers.
Carth held it out. He was holding a black high collared tunic, cut in a military style, but without affiliation of any kind. The pants were black, and of similar material to the tunic. Scarlet strips ran down the outer pant leg seam.
Carth studied the outfit for several seconds, thinking. He looked up at Jordo.
"When did you have this made?" Carth asked.
"Two months ago," Jordo answered promptly.
Carth did some quick math.
"So… about seventeen days after Dustil sent me the invitation," Carth said pointedly.
"Yes sir," Jordo agreed.
"Before I agreed to go," Carth continued.
"Again correct, sir," Jordo said.
"And what if I hadn't decided to come?" Carth asked.
Jordo cocked his head quizzically, "Sorry sir?"
"Don't give me that, Jordo. This fabric feels expensive, and last time I checked, you didn't have access to the fleet budget," Carth said coldly.
Jordo nodded, "An anonymous benefactor footed the bill, sir."
Carth stared at Jordo. Finally, he gave up. Carth had learned to pick his battles.
"And if I'd tried wearing the dress uniform?" Carth asked, contemplatively rubbing his thumb against the fabric.
"Accidents happen, sir. White stains so easily," Jordo said sadly, glancing at the dress uniform in question.
((()))
"Good luck, sir," Captain Dross said, smiling slightly at Carth.
"Try not to wreck anything while I'm gone," Carth chuckled.
"I can't promise anything, sir. There are pirates in the system," the Duros man replied.
"I know. It's Corellia," Carth sighed, shaking his head as he left the bridge.
Jordo was waiting for him in the corridor. Carth nervously readjusted his gun belt (with the buckles polished), double checking that his blaster was properly seated.
"It's a wedding, not an execution," Jordo grinned. Carth stayed quiet.
As they rode the turbolift Jordo glanced over at Carth again, "Relax. It'll be fine. You'll see," the commando assured him.
Jordo was probably one of the few people Carth still considered a friend. Not a comrade, but an actual friend. The man had saved his son. Which was strange, to consider that he'd also been a traitor to the republic at the time… and unshakably loyal to his commanding officer.
"I don't want to ruin it," Carth whispered.
Jordo frowned, staring at Carth.
"Dustil wants you there," Jordo answered.
"Does he? He's nineteen. He has his own friends, his own life now, hell, he's going to have a wife," Carth said, unconvinced. Before Jordo could argue more, the doors to the lift opened startling a pair of ensigns.
"Admiral!" the ensign on the left blurted, hand raising to salute.
"Don't salute," Carth said quickly… which made his voice sound a tad sharp.
"Oh. Uh, yes sir," the ensign said.
"Temporary leave," Carth said, tapping his non-uniform clothing.
"I hope you enjoy your day," the shorter ensign said meaningfully, elbowing his fellow, and pushing him into the turbolift. The ensigns made their escape, and Carth started chuckling.
That smile died when he entered the hanger. Five republic marines were waiting next to their shuttle.
"Jordo… why is there an escort?" Carth asked.
"To guard the shuttle. It's republic property, and this is Corellia," Jordo answered smoothly.
Carth grinned, realizing what Jordo had planned, "There's no pilot, is there?"
Jordo smiled back, "No. Think we can find one?"
Carth cracked the knuckles on his right hand, "I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."
((()))
Carth's first impression of the wedding hall was warmth. Not physical warmth, but natural light. An aspiring artist had created murals of colored glass, and some sort of tractor beam emitter network to keep them suspended. Sunlight was filtering through massive windows on the western side of the chamber, which apparently had running water sandwiched between two layers of glass. This rippling light was caught, diverted, and thrown around the sweeping, arched chamber by the ever changing clusters of hovering colored glass. It felt like standing in a coral reef.
Then Carth looked down from the ceiling and walls.
The wedding was in chaos. At the center of that chaos, Carth found its orchestrator.
"Mission?" Carth called, surprised.
Mission Vao looked away from her screaming match with an enraged aqualish caterer, and the datapad she'd been waving under his chin.
"Carth!" the teenage twi'lek smiled, her face lighting up. He'd last talked to her… three months ago? On her birthday? Mission was a hard one to keep in touch with.
"And you're wearing my suit!"
Her suit?
Ah. Carth glanced at Jordo's carefully guileless expression.
The caterer tried to back away, but Mission rounded on him in a second, her lekku whipping angrily, "Not so fast. I paid you for ten cases of Corellian Whisky. I see ten bottles."
[There was a shortage. I compensated you with equivalent amounts of Steryn Brandy] the alien protested.
"Yeah, and it's worth only a half of what I paid for the whisky!" Mission snarled.
[It took money to acquire the brandy on such short notice. The price is identical]
"Zaalbar!" Mission called, "Start ripping off limbs till money starts falling out!"
Carth looked around, eventually spotting the burly wookiee's head and shoulders emerge from behind the stage, where the groom and bride would say their vows. He had stains and scorch marks in his pelt. Apparently, he was hooking something up.
Zaalbar roared a complaint at Mission, which Carth didn't understand, and the wookiee disappeared back below the stage.
"Useless hairball!" Mission screamed at Zaalbar, blindly grabbing the fleeing aqualish's jacket, and tripping him to the ground.
Carth hid a smirk. Mission was loving this.
((()))
"You came," Dustil said neutrally.
The young man had filled out nicely since Carth had last seen him, nearly a year ago. Dustil was no longer awkward with his sudden height, and his body had caught up, losing its wiry aspect and looking balanced again. It hurt to see him, because Carth saw himself in his son, the cautious set of his chin, and how he stood… but he had his mother's eyes.
Carth nodded formally to his son, "I promised to try."
Dustil grimaced slightly, "That usually meant you wouldn't be coming."
Carth chuckled, "Back when I was a lieutenant… but I'm an admiral now, remember?"
Dustil smiled awkwardly, but he still looked nervous, not quite sure how to interact with his father. His departure from Carth's home had been… heated, last year. Words had been exchanged. Words both parties probably regretted.
Carth sighed, holding his arms open, "Come on."
Dustil scowled, but there wasn't any heat in it, and reluctantly closed the distance, embracing his father. There were some awkward pats on the back by Dustil, before the young man realized his father was genuinely hugging him. Then they parted.
"Thanks for coming, dad," Dustil said, not looking Carth in the eye.
Carth smiled, "Let's see if Mission needs any help."
((()))
"Okay, why was this place gutted?" Carth asked, staring at Mission. The teenager shrugged, "A proton bomb missed its target, obviously."
"Oh, and I forgot," Mission said brightly. Carth frowned, turning to look at the almost adult, just in time to get tackled.
Mission hugged the man tightly, "Sorry, I was busy earlier," Mission apologized, smiling brightly. Carth laughed, and returned the hug, "I'll let it slide this time," Carth answered sternly, although the smirk tugging at a corner of his mouth gave the game away.
"So, who's been restoring this temple?" Carth asked, releasing his adopted niece/daughter.
"Community project. We've just been helping out, and Dustil asked if he could use it for the wedding," Mission shrugged.
((()))
The man presiding over the wedding lifted the silver bowl ceremonially, chanting in an alien tongue. Carth didn't know it, glancing over at Jordo, who shook his head.
Carth still wasn't quite sure which wedding customs his son and Selene were using for the marriage. Blood of the two partners was mixed in the bowl, then drunk by each.
Dustil beamed, as the assembled crowd cheered, and Selene looked like she was trying to figure out how to disappear into Dustil's shadow. The willowy woman was shorter than his son now, but still seemed to preside over the whole affair. Carth stared at his new daughter in law. She caught his eye by accident, and Carth nodded, letting a smile break across his face, regardless of his feelings.
Selene hesitantly smiled back.
Then the chairs were hauled away from the center, creating a massive open area. With more shouting, and heavy labor, Mission brought in tables and food.
It was time to celebrate.
((()))
Carth stared into the glass of Corellian whisky, absently letting the contents roll around the bottom.
"Su cuy'gar, Carth," a voice said, startling Carth from his musings. He looked up, as a big man sat down in the folding chair next to him, balancing a plate of food in one hand, and a large mug of alcohol in the other.
Carth scowled, "Canderous."
The mandalorian grinned, seeming smaller without his formidable armor, or his heavy repeating blaster.
Carth glanced around the festivities, spotting Jordo, who was watching them from across the room. Canderous Ordo, leader of Clan Ordo, had probably not come alone, or for social reasons. The admiral spotted other hard looking men and women scattered through the crowd, notable by their lack of frivolity. They too wore plain clothes, but their body language was that of someone accustomed to wearing heavy armor. They held the confidence (or arrogance) of men and women who could shrug of a blaster bolt with little more than irritation.
"So, to what do I owe this honor?" Carth asked sarcastically.
Canderous balanced his plate in his lap, and took his time to take a bite of something breaded and probably fried.
"Mission invited me," Canderous answered.
"She didn't say anything about it," Carth accused, studying his old comrade.
The man's rugged, square features hadn't changed much, he was in has late sixties, or early seventies by now. There were a few more scars, and the gray was starting to edge closer to silver… but he still exuded physical presence and contained menace.
Ordo shrugged as he swallowed, looking at the confection in his hand with renewed scrutiny,
"I wasn't going to come. Too busy," the mandalorian replied bluntly.
"What do you want?" Carth asked, disgruntled.
"Nothing," Ordo answered gruffly.
"You're here for the food?" Carth asked skeptically.
"Mav ori'skraan is never something to turn down lightly," Canderous chuckled.
Carth stared at Canderous flatly, as the man finished his meal in silence.
Canderous carefully placed his plate under his chair.
"Things on Onderon are coming to a head. There will be war soon," Canderous said, as he stood, looking down at Carth.
"I thought you liked war," Carth sneered.
"I do. But this will be a stupid war, little aruetiise squealing for scraps. No glory. No honor," Canderous said, with thinning patience.
"Then don't fight them," Carth growled.
Canderous blinked, as if they'd been having a different conversation.
"My clan will not fight such di'kut. A mutual friend of ours insisted I warn you of the danger," Ordo growled, strangely intent.
There was probably only one man who could persuade Clan Ordo to do anything.
"Revan," Carth hissed.
Canderous nodded gravely. There was a deep, unshakable loyalty in Canderous's flinty eyes.
The question was, did Carth still trust Revan? A man that had almost destroyed before ultimately rescuing the Republic? A man Carth once counted as a friend, before his true nature was revealed?
Message delivered, Canderous Ordo shouldered his way through the crowd, and his warriors followed. A path opened before them, like shoals of fish avoiding well-fed predators.
Jordo approached at a run, and Carth waved him off, "It's fine, they were just leaving."
Jordo thrust a comlink out to Carth, "It's from the Sojurn. Something happened at Peragus," the aide interrupted.
Carth felt the blood run from his face.