Chapter 13 - The Young
Myles was not prepared for the welcome they received upon landing. A row of New Mandalorian guards stood with a military precision that belied the claim of not being warriors, not being true Mando'ade. Doubtless, some of their relatives had been Commandos, but these men, and yes, men because the New Mandalorians were the only sect with a hyper focus on the sex of a person, had trained off world. They were Mand'ade even if their philosophies had been perverted. Many had gone to university on Coruscant or the military academy on Corrilia.
The Guards of the New Mandalorians were seen as a necessary evil, a shield against the barbarism of the rest of their system.
They were trained to subdue with non-lethal force, they were also trained to die as martyrs for their beliefs and rulers.
It was a disgrace to the system and Myles for one was glad that the New Mandalorians shared nothing in common with the Jedi, surface beliefs aside.
But the line up of the guard could likely be explained by the giant chunk of the palace that had undergone demolition.
"What's happened?" Myles asked as Kal brushed past him. "Oi, Kal–"
Kal made a gesture of 'don't question me' which was a hand sign typically used in battle. But instead, his vod was boarding his ship, likely to check for trackers, as an astromech droid made scans around the outside.
Myles turned to his Alor, taking off his helmet so the man could see his expression.
"Where's my buir?" Satine asked at his side. "Where's Bo?"
Jaster's face was stone as he gestured to her guard, "In the hospital wing."
She paled, well, more pale than she already was, almost luminescent.
"Is he alright?" she breathed.
"I am not a medic," Jaster said, voice hard.
Satine picked up her skirts and ran into the palace.
Myles opened his mouth but Jaster held up his hand, and they waited for the New Mandolarians to be out of earshot before Jaster answered.
"We were attacked by the Jetiiese, five of the New Mandalorians are dead, including Prince Kyrze, and an additional fifteen have been hospitalised. Our own numbers escaped only needing some bacta treatments, our armour, and their lack of, made the difference."
Myles bowed his head, "I should have called ahead."
"Why?" Jaster demanded, Jango stepping out of his shadow, the boy strangely subdued.
"We were only gone for day cycle, I didn't think it would make a difference. But the Jetiiese passed along a warning."
"What warning?"
"Who attacked you?"
Jaster pulled out a holorecorder and played a security image of a cloaked figure, brushing people aside with a wave of his hand.
Myles reached for his own, and played the image that the Jetiiese had given him, "Master Qui-Gon Jinn."
Jaster bristled, "They claim the attack?"
"No, they warned that they suspected he left the Order and was falling–fell– to the Dark Side," Myles explained.
Kal came up behind him, "Jetiiese oisk doesn't absolve them of the blood on their hands. It was a declaration of war."
Myles shook his head, "No, the Jetiiese were clear that they wanted an alliance with us. They gave this one up, they told us that if he attacked us, no recompense would be taken if we killed him."
Kal gestured to the platform, "Easier said than done. A single Jetii did this."
"I didn't think demolition was their style," Myles quipped.
"He pulled our grenades," Kal said. "And the ship is clear, Alor."
Myles didn't say he had already checked, because they knew he had. He focused on the issue at hand. "Alor, you cannot declare war on the Jetiiese."
Jaster shook his head, motioning a hand to his ship.
They followed, Myles noting that Jango was rubbing his wrist. He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing in reassurance.
Jaster's ship was among the largest in their fleet. Myles, Kal, Jango, Montross, and Jaster stood around the table waiting for Mij and Silas to join them.
The silence was oppressive and Myles couldn't help but notice how subdued Jango seemed.
Silas ran ahead of her buir, plasterer herself against Jango's side like they had done when Jango had first joined their clan.
Jaster pulled up the two holo images, the one provided by the Order, and the other from the attack of the Kryze palace. It was almost certainly the same man.
"He was after my ad," Jaster said, meeting Myles's gaze directly.
Those words hung heavy. Jaster was a reasonable man, superstitions aside, but going after his son?
Kal summarized, "The Jetiiese have extended an offer of peace to Mandalore, to the Haat'mand'ade while at the same time, a Jetii has targeted the Mand'alor's heir."
Myles let out a long breath, "I have the raw footage of the crime scene the Jetiiese received at their Temple. Alor, they weren't able to separate the pieces of the Knight from the adiike, from the infant's body part. That knight was this Dar'Jetii's ad. We are lucky we aren't at war with the Republic already. We have clearance to bring justice upon this man. Will you condemn an entire people when they have not done the same to us, despite us drawing first blood?"
Jaster glowered at him, "We were framed."
Or they had a traitor.
Aloud, Myles said, "Which was acknowledged. Their High Council condemned the New Mandalorian's ideology to the princess's face."
"Really?" Jango asked.
"Yes, to her great disappointment. They were strangely adamant given the Republic Senate has only acknowledged the Duke in our system. According to their Seer, if the princess took charge of the system it would be our ruin."
Kal scoffed, "I'm sure they would be brokenhearted."
"They want the Haat'mando'ade to succeed. Their Seer also said that if Mandalore fell, so would the Order."
Another silence fell.
"The Duke's son is dead, the Duke himself I injured. The Princess is too young to hold the New Mandalorian movement, which means the power struggle of regent of Stewjon will be debated between the Prime Minister Almec and Prince Merrik, the would-be Senator," Jaster said to Myles's relief.
They had come to this forsaken planet for politics. Jaster was more than their war leader, he was their cultural, and soon, their system leader. It was encouraging that he wasn't losing sight of that despite the imminent threat of a historical enemy.
Mij said what they were all thinking, "If we leverage the Dar'Jetii's attack on the New Mandalorians as Republic interference, we can get the Senate to back off, the New Mandalorians would be unable to ask for their help if there was any truth to those rumours. Or even the appearance of truth."
"We can offer the Stewjoni leaders who can stand up the Jettiiese, we lost no one in the attack," Kal said.
Jaster nodded, "No buir should bury their ad, but I will not slow down our movement because of the Duke's grief or his daughter's ambitions. Death Watch is likely to capitalise on this chaos as well."
"Whoever controls Stewjon, sustains the Mandalore System," Myles agreed.
Jaster inclined his head, "Then we will call the fleet."
Jango ripped off the bandage, "What did they say about Obi-Wan Kenobi?"
Myles thought of the speaker of the High Council who had been hiding something major.
The only thing they had told them about the legend of Obi-Wan Kenobi was that his and his father's armour had been stolen along with the Dark Saber.
"Not much, but we were allowed into their archives and shared with us a great deal about the marks."
Kal made a harsh sound, "Slave marks or soul marks? Their records are likely false either way."
"They were written in ancient Mando'a and translated as documentation for Knights and Jettiise Masters who were lost or murdered in the Mandalorian system," Myles said.
Kal sneered, "You mean the Mando'ade weren't the heroes in the Jettiiese records? How surprising."
Myles shook his head, "The marks are gifts from the Manda. They appear more on Force sensitives, but the majority of the marks appear between Mand'ade."
Jaster tilted his head, "Manda? As in they don't appear outside our people?"
Myles nodded, "According to all the first-hand accounts, yes. The Manda uses the Ka'ra to mark two people from opposing clans as beings who could unite their fractions."
"In marriage?" Silas asked. "Like a mystical arranged marriage?"
Arranged marriages were not uncommon in their history, though they were infamous for the type of unions where an unwilling partner resulted in a short union.
"No," Myles said. "Allies, friendships, sibling clans, and sometimes, something more romantic. But the marks themselves were never seen as a marriage without significant work done between their peoples."
"What are you leaving out?" Jango asked.
Myles sighed, "It was very unsuccessful. I matched the dates of documented marks, and most of them match some of our greatest military tragedies. The marks appear most often during the civil wars."
"You said the Force sensitives played a part in this," Jaster pressed.
"Most of the time they were executed. As your folktales said, the Dar'Jetii would steal or kill the marked Mandos. Enslaving them as the Sith do."
"And the Jetiiese?" Jango asked.
"The Mando'ade did to them as the Dar'Jetiiese did to the Mando'ade. Either the marked Jetii left their Order and integrated into our culture, or they were executed," Myles explained.
"You sound sad," Kal mocked.
"Our ancestors treated the Jetiiese as beasts. Mythical things to defeat for glory or trophies. In our own words, we described them as lesser beings," Myles tried to explain.
"Are you trying to tell me Jan'ika is in no danger?" Jaster asked before gesturing to the holograms. "After this?"
"I am not saying the Jetiiese are not dangerous," Myles insisted. "Certainly not the Dar'Jettiiese, but Jan'ika has a mark that represents the Jedi Order who want to make peace with us, who support the True Mandalorians against the Senate's stated support of the New Mandalorians. The marks are Manda given, marks of the Ka'ra, not the Force. Jango's mark means he could make peace with the Jetiiese."
"It means there will be further interference with them," Jaster rephrased. "Whoever marked him is possessing his dreams and has yet to give his real name."
"I don't know, Alor. But you could contact the Order yourself. The High Council said that we would be welcome. I think you would honestly get along with the High Archivist," Myles said.
Jaster's lips thinned.
Jetii or no Jetii, the hells of Mastafar would freeze over before Jaster Mereel spoke ill of a competent archivist.
Somedays, Myles was certain that the reason Jaster had been so willing to make a truce with the New Mandalorians wasn't just because of their political arrangement with Stewjon, but because the New Mandalorians had the largest library in the Mandalore system.
Jango spoke hesitantly, "Perhaps they missed something about Obi-Wan…"
Jaster nearly growled, "You will not contact them. You will never contact them. Do you hear me, ner ad'ika?"
"Yes, Alor," Jango said, further subdued.
Myles exchanged a look with Mij.
But Jaster continued with his paranoia, and yet there was truth that couldn't fully be argued against behind his words.
"We will not play this game. I will not gamble your life for the trickery of people who nearly eradicated our way of life. Even Mand'alor Tarre Vizsla left them in the end and look what became of his legacy."
"Lek, ner alor, I understand," Jango said.
Jaster huffed, "We will go to Stewjon and speak with their clan leaders. Prince Kryze died for his lack armour and their efforts to demilitarize have left the Stewjoni in paral that cannot be tolerated, not with Dar'Jetii and Dar'Mando'ade on the offensive."
To this, they all agreed.
oOo
Obi-Wan had been on the frontlines of a civil war before.
Never intentionally, his buir had always apologised when it happened, but it was the Mandalore system.
A system in the middle of a transition of leadership with the previous leader undefeated. And at his age, defeating his buir in combat would have been seen as dishonorable.
It made the clan leaders more hostile than they would have ordinarily been in such a time.
His buir returning frequently to the Jetiiese had not improved that any.
So yes, Obi-Wan had been at ground zero for a number of campaigns.
He knew death. He knew what it felt like for the living passed into the Force, what their vode's grief felt like, and he had seen any number of horrors.
Death came for everyone, there were no exceptions, no innocence spared.
Still, this planet was different, a new special type of hell.
The quiet in boarded up and abandoned streets was broken by a scream.
Yards ahead, just outside of an alley, a body fell, a small body.
The adult stood over the small form, pointed the barrel of his blaster toward another child.
Obi-Wan was already sprinting.
"Please," the ad begged. "I'm sorry. Please don't—"
The adult male sneered, "You should have thought of that—"
Obi-Wan tackled the man, pushing his arm up so the shot went toward the sky.
He didn't give the shabuir time to fight back. He used all his momentum to ensure when they went down the man felt the full impact. Winded and shocked, he merely looked up at Obi-Wan with wide eyes as Obi-Wan grabbed him by his jaw and the back of his skull then twisted.
The only justice a shabuir deserved for executing an ad'ika at point-blank range was death.
"Obi-Wan!" Tahl called catching up to him, her feet skidding on the dirt roads.
The child who Obi-Wan saved stepped away from her but toward Obi-Wan.
He ignored his Master as he stood, taking the blaster from the dead man. "Why?" was the eloquent question he managed.
"The Elders have been fighting and we're trying to stop them," the young boy said as he knelt to pick up the rations he and his fallen comrade had been holding.
The sharbuir had killed an ad, possibly two ade, over ration bars!?
Obi-Wan had to take a deep breath and give his emotions to the Force lest he lash out.
"We have to go," the ad said. "But she can't come."
"This is my teacher," Obi-Wan said. "We are Jedi from the Coruscant Temple."
The boy hesitated, then looked down at his friend and then the man Obi-Wan had killed.
He nodded, even as he hesitated, before giving himself a shake and led the way.
Obi-Wan caught some of the ration packs before they hit the ground.
He wanted to take the fallen child, but given the state of the boy, the unwashed clothes and skin…
He doubted they had the resources to bury him or have a funeral for them. It wasn't always possible during a war.
Master Tahl followed them, an unhappy presence behind him. But she trusted him. Though Obi-Wan was certain he would be getting a talking to for killing someone without giving them a chance to surrender.
When they got to the outside of the outskirts of the city, they entered the sewers. The smell wasn't pleasant, but it was regrettably familiar. He could feel Tahl's unease rise, but her expression was passive when he glanced back at her. The children who greeted him were very young, ten years of age, twelve at the oldest.
They greeted them with raised blasters.
He and Master Tahl raised their hands. Obi-Wan spoke first, "I am Jedi Padawan Obi-Wan Kenobi, and this is my teacher, Jedi Master Tahl."
The girl stepped forward and the air around her… the way the other children looked to her, he knew that she was their leader.
Rage and deepest sorrow filled him. This shouldn't be happening. He wished his buir was here.
"I'm Cerasi," the girl with copper brown hair said. She gestured to the lanky boy beside her, "And this is Nield. We are the leaders of the Young. Did the Republic send you to end the war?"
"The Force sent us," Master Tahl said.
Nield narrowed his dark eyes, "That large explosion by the fountain square, that was you?"
"Our ship," Obi-Wan agreed. "The city was mostly deserted."
"The Elders are cowards. The Melida and the Daan, the two factions fighting for the planet, have been killing each other off for years," Nield answered. "Most of our parents are dead, most of the soldiers are dead. Now it's just us and our grandparents."
Tahl placed a hand on Obi-Wan's shoulder as he fought to keep his ire down. This went against everything he had ever been taught in both his cultures.
"Do you have any long range communicators?" Obi-Wan asked. He didn't care how long it had been, if he called then his clan would answer. Someone from Mandalore would answer. And this crisis needed Mandalorians, none of the adults on this planet were qualified to be in charge of children.
They didn't deserve peace, but these children deserve freedom. The Order would struggle with what needed to be done.
"No," Cerasi said. "Or none that I know of. We don't have any ships anymore that could get you off world either, they were destroyed during the wars."
Tahl squeezed his shoulder, stopping him from speaking. "The Force will provide. What resources do you have?"
Obi-Wan's mind spun looking for any solution–
"You got a cool tattoo."
Obi-Wan looked down at a– not quite a toddler but so small… too small to be living in a sewer functioning as a war compound. He knelt before them and had to force himself to speak Basic.
In a situation like this, Mando'a just felt more correct.
"What tattoo, adiik'ika?" he asked gently.
The child reached out, laying a small dirty hand on the side of his neck, where Jango had touched him in his dream.
"'Ere," the adiik frowned, tracing a finger over a tattoo he had no memory of getting. "It looks like a shield with horns."
Obi-Wan stilled, a Mythosaur, if he had to guess, one like the symbol on Jango's armour.
How had that happened? How long had he had it?
It wasn't like Tahl could have noticed it and he hadn't seen a mirror in a long time. He remembered when the other boy had touched his throat in a shared dream but still…
"It's a clan symbol," Obi-Wan answered.
"Jedi have clans?" Nield asked.
They did, or their younglings did, but Obi-Wan explained himself instead. "I'm a Mandalorian, not just a Jedi. The Force brought us to you, me to you, because we can help you."
"Mandalorian?" Cerasi asked. "Like, bounty hunters?"
Obi-Wan inclined his head, "Yes, some of my people become bounty hunters, but my father was a clan leader before he died. I know how to wage war. If your Elders want war, I can help you make them regret it."
If he could get them more help, he could protect them.
Until then…
Until then, they would do the best they could for these ade. And they would succeed, because as Master Tahl said, if it was the Force itself that had brought them here, then the Force would remain with them.
The Republic may have forgotten this planet, the Force never had.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, cheetahs, or feedback, pretty please?