KEYnote: So there has been a bunch of time skips in the last few chapters, partly because it's been in the view of the characters who are stuck in chaos and me shying away from some of the horror going on.
Obi-Wan is now seventeen, turning eighteen. Basically, close to a year as a slave and then close to three years as a child soldier.
Jango has been a slave for half a year in this chapter.
Chapter 17 - General Kenobi
They came with no less than five ships.
Obi-Wan nearly collapsed with relief.
In all honesty, he knew not to trust any random clan. Hells, given how his own Buir had been assassinated he knew not to trust his own clan.
But he had hundreds of children with him, one half-dead Master Jedi, and his own strength failing him.
They had no protections against a single Mando squad, much less a small battalion. So Obi-Wan began shouting orders. Blankets were stretched out on pipe poles for stretchers. He got everyone out on their emergency exit he had never allowed them to use before.
They were half out when the fires started.
The ade stopped to watch as one building and then another went up in flames.
Clearly, the Mandos had people who weren't amateur pyrotechnics. Which was far from unusual when it came to Mandalorian Commandos. But at the pace they were going, likely taking minutes to clear each building rather than aerial bombing, he knew that they were professionals and looking for the ade.
Something in him relaxed.
Even if these were the wrong sort, only Obi-Wan and Tahl's lives would be forfeit, possibly Nield's if he protested too much.
So Obi-Wan started telling them stories as he helped walk each group out. He told them all they would have fresh water and fresh food, he told the sick they would have medicine and for the injured, there would be doctors.
And for those who asked if they would be separated, he answered they would be placed with new families. Families who would not betray them as their birth families had.
When they asked if there would be peace, he could only say that they would get to be children, but their new adults would understand them.
Understand them in only a way another veteran could.
It was a pity he couldn't promise that they would never know a world without warfare. Yet maybe that too was in the Force's will as the transition into peacetime was something that needed to be chosen by each individual, not imposed forcefully on them.
Not that they would see it that way as they were fighting for peace, but they might feel differently when they were older.
When they only felt like themselves with a blaster in their hand and armour on their back.
No, this was not the worst thing to happen, even if these weren't Jango's people.
They managed to get everyone out of the sewers as they watched their old lives be burned away.
"This is the end of the war," Obi-Wan said in relief and trepidation.
The Force wasn't telling him to run, but it wasn't telling him they were safe either.
Sitting out in the open was awful, but it was necessary. They were jumpy, but so too could Mandalorians be. Hiding in a tunnel would escalate everything if anyone got trigger-happy.
But the awfulness of the tension was mitigated by the promise of help coming.
Master Tahl wouldn't have survived another week.
He wasn't going to lose another buir. Or if he was, he would at least know that he did everything he could to protect her.
When the Mandalorians approached, they did so in formation.
In answer, Obi-Wan raised his blaster, the youngest and impaired behind them.
Obi-Wan stayed seated.
There was nowhere to run to, not from them. But these Mandos needed to know that they had teeth, that they understand their value and glimpsed them for the danger they represented.
Obi-Wan had the one baby who was Ka'ra touched held in his arm.
Obi-Wan nearly pulled the trigger when he saw the crest.
Clan Vizsla.
Remembering what the Council had said about them. His father was a Vizsla, but Obi-Wan wasn't.
He was No One from Nowhere, given the name of the Ka'ra touched who were considered cursed and weren't allowed to live to become warriors.
His buir faced a lot of animosity in being both Ka'ra touched and a Jetii, in response after being Mand'alor for a century, he had named his only blood son with the ugliest side of Mandalorian culture.
They criticised his buir for giving his son to the Jetii to be raised as he had been, but his name was a reminder that if he had remained on Stewjon with his mother's people, Obi-Wan would have been drowned.
He called out to the commandos, "Stop."
The leader stopped, holstering their weapon and raising their hands.
"Obi-Wan Kenobi?" the voice asked.
Obi-Wan kept his blaster pointed, "How did you guess?"
"A little far from the Manda'yiem for fluency," the Commando answered.
"Jango isn't from your clan," Obi-Wan said, knowing there was only one way for anyone to know where he was when even the Jedi didn't know.
"No, he is not."
"Where is he?" Obi-Wan demanded.
"With his own kind."
The statement rang true in the Force but did nothing to shake the worry from Obi-Wan's heart.
"Who are you?" Obi-Wan asked in Basic, the Young tense beside him.
Following his lead, the Mando answered in Basic. "Mand'alor Tor Vizsla."
Obi-Wan arched a brow, "Seems there are a lot of Mand'alors these days."
"Has anyone ever told you that your Mando'a is archaic?" Tor asked.
Obi-Wan gritted his teeth, "And you sound like you struggled with primary lessons."
Another Mando stepped forward, making all the blasters, save for Obi-Wan and Nield's point to him.
"This is Baar'ur Bevwen, our medic," Tor said.
Bevwen, who had not approached with a weapon raised, spoke in a low tone, "You're injured, all of you, to some degree. You all need treatment. Now."
Against his instincts, Obi-Wan did not bow to the healer in respect but kept his gaze on Tor, his blaster never wavering from the line of his throat.
Even if Tor moved, there was still a chance he would hit between the shoulder and chest plates.
"I want the Mand'alor's, House Vizsla's, word of honour to protect these ade and never raise a hand against them in anger or indifference. Vez-so-lan, i datra lan-so-a vizra," he tacked onto the end, holding the baby to his chest where if he had a free hand he would have made a fist over his heart.
Each Clan had words and phrases specific to them. Clan Vizsla was among the oldest families, stretching back from before Darth Revan during the days when the Mandalorian Empire dwarfed all others, including the Republic, at least in expanse if not systems which the Core would always have the monopoly on.
The words Obi-Wan had spoken were not Mando'a but Taung: Honour memory, and always remember your honour.
The name Vizsla was Mando'a slang for that sentiment: Clan of Remembered Honour.
A part of Obi-Wan hated the contrast between his aliit's name and his own. Kenobi essentially meant to be forgotten.
Not dead, not loved, never remembered. The Stewjoni told him once if someone ever felt sadness about the loss of their Ka'ra Cursed ade then they would not say their names in remembrances, instead, they would give an offering to the nearest river with the prayer that there might never be another Kenobi, so another parent would never have to birth another curse.
His buir told him that he was meant to break that cycle. To be a person the very galaxy would remember.
But having lived nearly two, approaching three years in a sewer with nothing but his Master's insane connection to the Force keeping her alive, he felt pretty damned forgotten.
The whole group of Mandos, thirty-two of them had gone stock still at those words.
"How do you know those words?" Tor finally growled.
Obi-Wan rolled, "Come on, I know I was in a status coma for maybe a decade or two but I am still Ad'alor of Mand'alor Tarre Vizsla. I am still Clan Vizsla despite being a Kenobi."
If it was possible, the Mandos went even more still as if a holo image had jammed.
Tor's words came out strained even through the vocalizer, "If we are aliit then why raise a weapon against me, ad'ika?"
"I don't know," Obi-Wan drawled switching back to Mando'a so he wouldn't upset the Young. "Maybe because my father was murdered dishonourably by his vod'ika who was also Clan Vizsla."
"He was murdered by the Jetiiese," Tor spat.
Obi-Wan snorted, flipping back to Basic, he said, "If you believe that a group of Jetiiese managed to get on the frontlines of a rebellion sparking civil war on Manda'yaim, you are unintelligent. I was brought back to the Temple after my Buir died because they had a superior medical facility. And given it was an assassination, it was safer for me to be away from the system."
Tor shook his head, "I don't believe–"
"My arm is getting tired," Nield cut in. "Can you swear to General Kenobi's stipulations, or no? Because if the answer is no, you might be able to kill us like you have our people but I can promise you we will make your life hell and drag you right down with us."
A few of the Mandalorians laughed at this and Tor inclined his head.
Obi-Wan lowered his weapon, painfully aware that he made Tor swear to protect the Young, but not himself or Master Tahl.
And from the way the young Mand'alor was watching him with tilted T-visor, Obi-Wan was a hundred per cent sure he knew this.
oOo
Tor had thought that the prophecy said that Obi-Wan Kenobi would return, he thought they meant it metaphorically.
Not literally the Lost Son.
He had already messaged his own son who was going to be on-world for a while.
Now it seemed doubly important.
Over his coms, he asked Bevwen if the Jetii Master would live.
"If we get her in a bacta tank, probably, she seems to have been stabilized."
"Can you keep her sedated and healing slow?"
"Not in a bacta tank. I can make her brain dead if you want," Bevwen said before barking several other orders over the wider frequency.
"No, the Jet'ika will be able to tell if we intend her harm," Tor replied.
"Elek, Alor," Bevwen said, before tuning everyone out and focusing on the babes and the youngest foundlings as he instructed the others on first aid. Which was mainly lathering on bacta for the most part.
A few of the ade looked as if they wouldn't make it through the night with advanced medical life support.
Tor went to Kenobi with a first aid kid, Bevwen having already checked the baby in his arms. The children were all skinny, but Obi-Wan and the boy next to him were the skinniest out of the lot.
Tor touched the boy's chin, making him flinch but he obediently turned his head, and Tor confirmed the mark, the mark of the Mereel's delusional sect.
Fett and this boy were tied in fate, and the scars around Kenobi's neck perhaps made that truer than even Tor was comfortable with.
But that was fine, their integration program had broken far healthier adults than this young man appeared to be.
Kenobi reached for his belt and Tor tensed, only to smile in victory when the boy offered him the butt end of his Jetii'kad.
Tor went to take it but the boy held on as he said in low and overly proper Mando'a, "If you kill me in front of them, if you do harm to me in front of them, they will fight you to their deaths. If you wish to adopt them, then you have to get rid of me quietly."
Tor smirked, "I don't want to get rid of you, Kenobi. We are clan. We are aliit."
Kenobi gave him a suspicious look, clearly disbelieving but not willing to fight it in front of foundlings. He let go of his lightsaber, and Tor clipped it to his belt, clinking against the Dark Saber.
Kenobi's gaze went to it with deepest remorse.
The last time he saw it, Tarre Vizsla must have been wielding it. Another thrill went through him, at the gift that had landed in his lap.
"Give him a hypo," Bevwen said in Basic.
Tor pulled the syringe out of the first aid kit.
Kenobi tensed but Tor had the needle plunged into his neck before the ad could protest.
The boy beside him bellowed, bringing his blaster up.
All hell was about to break loose but Bevwen had a blaster pointed at Kenobi's head where he had slumped against his Master's side, curled around the baby still in his arms.
The Young as the shabuire had called them froze.
"Lower your karking weapons," the Baar'ur said. "Your General is lucky to be alive. He needs rest, unless any one of you would like to explain to me how he's been getting a regular minimum of six hours of sleep in a turn cycle."
Silence and shame flooded their expressions, and weapons were lowered. The Watch took their weapons.
But Kenobi was right about his position here.
The one called Nield was particularly vexed.
In Basic, Tor said, "Your dear general will be fine. He will be hospitalised for some time as it would seem he prioritised your health above his own life."
That guilted them all into good behaviour.
oOo
Nearly half a year had passed.
Myles was not a man of many regrets, but these days…
These days he knew them too well.
Caution, their Mand'alor had urged him.
Caution.
They had failed. They had told their Mand'alor he was being over cautious.
But now they had a rogue-Jetii that had kidnapped their Ad'alor who was now enslaved.
And what had they been doing since then?
Taking out slave rings and killing any adult of the Watch who refused to give them information.
Jaster had searched the Hutt's strongholds because none of them quite believed that's who Vizsla would go to.
The problem with Hutts was that they could be bought and they cared more about information to rule others than they did credits.
Which is part of what kept them in power. Vizsla wouldn't risk letting information slip.
Right now they still had nothing to go on.
Monross had given them nothing, no one from Death Watch whom they'd managed to take in alive knew anything.
So Jaster was hitting slave rings, one by one they fell and though the True Mandalorians were grieved to have lost their Mand'alor's son, yet there was pride to be taken in the battles they waged, in the people they freed.
Not many Mandalorians wanted civil war, but as Jaster made holonews, their numbers back home swelled.
Not just warriors joined them, but civilians and New Mandalorians who wanted to be a part of Jaster's movement. It was an odd thing to watch, as Jaster grew more desperate, the more they began to stabilize.
Between this and their alliance with Stewjon, the Haat'mando'ade were the largest fraction in their system and were beginning to be known more widely across the galaxy as slaves returned to their planets or became Mandalorians.
It was interesting, Myles thought, to feel as if you were losing everything as achieved goals that your people had been dying for for millennia.
oOo
AN: Thoughts, whale-sharks, or feedback, pretty please?