Tumbling Back to the Beginning
DRAMATIS PERSONNAE (story begins below)
Props to kAREN tRAVIS for the characters from the Republic Commando series!
One of the quotes I read about Cuy'val Dar mentions that there were only a few types of people who would upend their lives to follow Fett to Kamino and accept the demanding contract. Basically: those for whom the financial incentive of the contract was so lucrative they couldn't pass it up; a warrior displaced, one without a war to wage or who could not find placement with other armies; those who needed to step out of time and space for a while; and- - my favorite- - those so loyal to the Mand'Alor that they would have mustered to him regardless of the behest issued.
mY OCs include (but are not limited to) the following Cuy'val Dar:
Human Mandalorians Liam & Ad'ra Rottske (aged 35 & almost 10 at the beginning of the clone contract; "Lee" holds a role invented by the imagination of my son's friend: Adenn, or merciless. An inherited title of complete obedience, the Merc's merc, who protects the interest of the Mand'Alor foreign or abroad and serves as 2nd-in-command or Marshal of the Mand'Alor's troops. And, in Liam's case, his best friend and closest confidant from the day they met)
Non-human life-long Mando Jaig (approx. 60 at the beginning of the clone contract & training sergeant of one of the commando companies; close to the Mereel/Fett & Rottske families for decades and a voice Jango would have respected to advise him and at some point in 'history' he's offered to adopt both Fett & Vau after the deaths of their adoptive Mando father figures)
Humans Devin Narosh & Jonashe Kilo from Concorde Dawn & Corellia (who are over companies in my tales & fairly young, accomplished men but not necessarily with much experience as instructors)
Half-Human Asirel (devoutly Christian cuy'val dar over the shooting ranges and an armorer/gunsmith)
Non-human Mando Hashery Ghett (hand-to-hand combat instructor who worked closely with Tay'haai, who I made a melee weapons specialist when he joined the cuy'val dar; H.G.'d have been somewhere between Jaig & Vau in age and trusted by both of them)
Non-human Mando indoctrinee Kei're Hosch Tiethe' (close to Fett in age and part of his trusted round table of advisors as well as a company training sergeant, he brought his head full of long, messy dreads to the party a little later than most, joining the Mandalorian contingent somewhere around 18 or 19)
Human life-long Mando Skip Smar K'cen (contemporary of Skirata & Vau, more akin with Skirata in temperament and training philosophy)
Human Mando Castella Reau (I gave Isabet an even twisted-er twin sister; in my mind she's the more gorgeous of the pair and completely badass- - just like my own evil twin)
Dacha Culbine, Berrée, Hege Lollo (Mon Cal), Yurel, Bic & others make brief appearances/ rate a mention but don't play more than a cursory role in moving the story along
cANNOn Cuy'val Dar: Walon Vau, Kal Skirata, Vhonte Tervho, Rav Braylor, Wad'e Tay'haai, Dred Priest & Isabet Reau, Cort Davin… And you'll forgive me, please, for putting Zam Wesell on Kamino with Fett. I just couldn't see him not keeping an eye on someone who'd nearly bested him on occasion but with whom he maintained some cordial professional relations.
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TUMBLING BACK TO THE BEGINNING
31 BBY/ 9 years before the beginning of the Clone Wars
Tipoca City Military Complex Training Facility
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"Hey, Jango," Jaig called him back when the strategy and expectations din'kartay was over. "A word. Privately. About a personal matter."
Fett hesitated. Looked hard at the other man.
"You're not allowed personal matters anymore, Jaig," he said. "Part of the pact- - complete cuy'val dar."
"This is your personal matter."
The younger man waited.
Jaig pointed. "Are you really intending to give her the training of a complete company of commandos?"
"One of them, yes. The experimental Rangers are coming online in less than a year."
"And how old will she be?"
"Eleven, I believe."
"To take on the responsibility of imparting what these clones of yours will need to survive and succeed?"
"Yes. She's as qualified an operative as you. If Liam taught her half of what he knew and she can teach them half of what Liam taught her they'll be a force to be reckoned with."
"And if she can't?"
He lifted a shoulder. "They're experimentals. If we don't get results out of them it won't mean the end of the world. And you'll get paid either way." He reached out to clap the man's shoulder.
"What about Boba?"
"Boba isn't getting paid. Yet," Fett chuckled. "If he learns half of what Liam Rottske taught his girl and-"
"Is she to train him, too, while she's training these experimentals?"
"Of course not," Fett frowned. Jaig watched the light come on. The younger man nodded. "I'll work something out. He's not her responsibility. She just doesn't have any peers here."
"If you're going to make her an instructor she needs her own space, her own AO. Just like the rest of us. Not a pallet in his room."
"Liam and I had thought to share quarters. His death changed things a bit."
"I understand that. And I'm not telling you that you have to shove a little girl away from home and hearth. But if you've got the rest of the cadre coming in and you want her regarded as anything other than a child you've taken in, you need to make some adjustments. And soon."
Fett nodded.
He reactivated the care droid that evening.
Had to have the hard talk with the girl and clarify her role for the next ten years.
Beg her father to help him from where he watched in the manda.
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"Boba!" the girl cub giggled at the toddler in her arms.
Fett grinned over at them. Every once in a while she had to be reminded that she needed to pick her role. She could be a playmate and always have a place at his side, enjoining the same training and advantages that his son and the millions of other clones here had. Or she could be Cuy'val Dar.
It meant something to her, taking the place he'd intended for her father.
Still, there were moments like this when you couldn't chide girl-child to act like a man.
"Boba! What do we do to scurvies who don't live up to our colors?"
"Walk the plank!" the little boy squealed, his arms thrown out in front of him.
It made the group of men- - his earliest advisors- - chuckle as they enjoyed an after-dinner drink in the cadre lounge.
She was at ease here. Hell, it was all Boba knew.
"Walk the plank, eh?" Hashery Ghett asked.
Fett snickered. "They've been on a space pirate kick."
"Argh!" Boba hammed.
Ad'ra's eyes glowed. "I'm going to find a way to put a waist scarf on my beskar'gam."
"That'll be something to see," Jango smirked.
She stuck out her tongue at him. Leaned over the table to see his cards. Watched with those keen eyes for a long moment. Circled the table. Studied each man's hand in turn. Watched.
"I could make it kind of a modified kama," she said softly, her brain still working on the previous thought while simultaneously taking in the game as it unfolded. Studying each man's handling of their decks. Watching their faces, too.
Looking for tells.
The child was terrifying.
"I want a tattoo."
"Not yet," Fett said absently.
"When?"
He just lifted his brows, only semi-paying attention to her.
"Not yet."
The way he said it made it clear the conversation was over.
Again.
She sighed. Circled endlessly.
Little shark, her father had called her when he commissioned the real beskar armor she wore. The cadet blue faded to a dustier color at the center of each plate. The red chevrons weren't militarily precise. Instead they wavered- - as though seen through water- - bright red bleeding to burgundy and burgundy to maroon- - all the way down her shoulders and again at her knees before stopping above her ankles.
No plates tonight, though. She was just wearing a simple tunic and leggings for now. Dressing children when there were thousands in various sizes in residence became ridiculously simple.
"What tattoo do you want, little Ad'ika?" Jaig asked.
"Why not this one?" she asked, tapping a card left in his hand.
"As the tattoo or for my play?" he chuckled.
Apparently she didn't approve.
"Come here, sit with me and watch. I don't know what you know, what you've seen. So I play it this way for now. We'll see if it pans out."
She nodded. Slid onto his knee, the toddler on her lap, and relaxed back against him.
The chest plates of beskar'gam had never been uncomfortable for her to rest on. She'd grown up with them- - familiar and solid.
"No cheating," Fett warned.
She nodded. He didn't mind indulging her on occasion, but there was a lot of cred and a lot of rep on the table.
"I wouldn't. Not for someone else's gain."
"Only if you want to win?" H.G. asked with a laugh.
She nodded. Grinned. "Exactly."
Three plays later Fett's link dinged.
"Vau's coming in."
There were nods.
"You sure he's the sort you want?"
"The sort being the type who doesn't lose wars?"
H.G. shifted the unlit spice tube in his mouth. Reached across the table to rake in the cred chips. Tossed his cards where they'd been.
"His type being the only one I know who can beat me," the older man bragged.
"Usenye," Fett joked. Ad'ra grinned. He held up his finger.
"No. Do not translate that to Basic for her."
"Just whisper what it would be in Bothan and let me work it out for myself," she begged.
"No."
She filed the word anyway.
The newcomers were hustled into the ready room and introductions had barely begun before they were interrupted. Jaig looked over when the doors slid open. Fett moved to speak quietly with the Kaminoan.
"New numbers?" he asked when their Mand'alor turned, an expression of mixed frustration and dismay on his face.
"Yeah. I told them to quit jerking it around."
He walked to the see-through board that held semi-permanent notations and markings.
Picked up the square and dragged it through a whole line of designations.
"That bad?"
"Don't want snipers who can't hit shit."
They laughed. "What's the benchmark?" Vau asked.
"Ad'ra's."
The man in black beskar glanced to his side.
"You're my competition?"
"Yes, sir. I'm an assassin and I'm going to be the adenn. You can't beat me. My warriors will save the Republic- - and no one will ever see them coming."
He held out his hand. Accepted the challenge.
Hit his knee- - just for the briefest second- - in the traditional genuflection the second-in-command was called on to give the Mand'Alor.
She would pass the Mand'Alor's commands to troops in the field- - his marshal and confidant. In turn they would give her the loyalty due a mand'alor. It was a weighty role to play. In part because she would bear the weight of their failures. There had been adenns who lost their heads because of their inability to muster troops to victory. Who were struck down because of their inability to control the Mando'ad under their command- - on the battlefield or off it.
"At your service, Adenn. Prepare to lose."
Fett nodded his approval when Walon rose.
"Want a tour?"
The other two Cuy'val Dar who'd come in with them agreed eagerly and off they went.
Ad'ra kept up a stream of entertaining chatter. She astounded Fett more than once by suggesting a shortcut.
He was going to put a chip in her head. Took her advice, though, when she told him they could see every bit of the Tipoca City Military Complex's outdoor parade field if they took the next door- - but to hold on because it was windy in a storm.
Fett led the group out as she directed.
The view was spectacular. The sky was dark and there were lights gleaming on every tower. Huge waves threatened the compound, seeming to rise higher than the flight deck before crashing. Tipoca City was carefully located where two jet streams met, creating something of an oasis in the raging seas. Most of the time the walls of water collapsed, hit by opposing waves coming from the inverse direction.
The storm had built more while they'd been inside.
The cold ocean air barreling through the open hatch had Vau turning automatically to reach for the girl behind him. She had Fett's son- - Boba- - on her hip and accepted his hand as she stepped over. He held her by the elbow as she made the sharp turn toward the railing.
"You'll freeze out here," Fett said, reaching for Boba. He pulled Ad'ra in front of him. Tugged his half-cape around to cover both children, offering some protection.
"My gods," Dorcas whispered.
"Walk the plank!" Boba cheered.
The grisly man in silvery grey and brilliant blue laid his lips on the boy's temple with a smile.
"That's right! This is where we'll make our dissidents walk the plank."
Walon's eyes flickered over them for just a moment.
Felt an ache.
He'd been in love once. Might have reared a family of his own somewhere.
His gloved hand rubbed over his cheeks, down to his jaw. He watched lines of boys too young to consider men in plain white armor march seemingly endlessly across the decks.
If you'd told him then that he'd look up ten years later to see Fett and Ad'ra in the same spot and burn with the jealousy of a jilted lover rather than a man mourning a past he'd never had… he'd have laughed so hard you'd barely be able to hear him call you a liar and a freak.
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It took Mird less than no time to decide Kamino offered any number of distractions when it sought a diversion from the unending training that took up its master's time. Fett was beginning to regret that he'd not considered Vau's unholy attachment to the strill when he'd taken the suggestion to hire the man and bring him in as part of the cadre.
"Walon, if I catch that stinking flying carpet of yours in my quarters again I'm turning it into winter boot liners."
"Aw!" Ad'ra crouched, Boba on her hip. She thought his son—his perfect replication of himself—was her doll baby and toy. Of course, they were breeding warriors so there weren't a whole lot of other choices for the girl. The strill immediately came to her, lifting its chin so she could get to all the good places. "He called you stinky! You're not stinky, are you? Poor little drooly Mirdy!"
"His name is Lord Mirdalon," Vau reminded her.
She made a face at the strill.
"Maybe it's not feeling like a he today…"
Vau rolled his eyes heavenward. Looked over at Jaig and H.G.
"I've got the next batch of Cuy'val Dar coming in soon…" Jango began, getting his meeting rolling so he could see about some other business. Beginning with asking Ad'ra what the hell she was thinking, sneaking into the back of the classroom where regular clone troopers were being indoctrinated.
"Paying attention," she told him with no outward display that his rebuke had cowed her at all.
"You don't have enough to do?"
"I can't answer any questions and elaborate on the instruction my company will get if I don't know what the regular CTs are being taught."
He let it go. She sat through the meeting. Paid attention there, too. Heard a few of the older training sergeants giving one of their cohorts a hard time.
Absorbed.
"Hey, Rav?" she asked as they left.
The older woman slowed down. Reached for the girl.
"Whatcha need, little Ad'ika?"
"What's a cartwheel?"
"What?"
"A cartwheel?"
The elder blinked. "Like the wheel on a hand cart? It's just a real simple hoop, with some spokes. No tread or tires or-" The child looked frustrated. "Not what you were looking for?"
Tiethe' laughed. Slapped Rav's arm.
"Watch!" he teased. His helmet slapped against its securing loop as he threw his arms up in the air and then threw himself over. Made his legs wide as his hands hit the floor. Kept going.
"Idiot," Rav laughed.
Ad'ra still looked unsatisfied. Let it go, though.
Although she wondered if she could make her body tumble that way.
It wasn't the most discreet form of ambulation, but there might be something to be said about being able to catch yourself that way on your hands and then be upright on your feet instead of tumbling…
She'd try it. Her vode would help, she was sure.
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Before too many days came to pass, the girl practiced tumbling across the parade ground. A line of grey-blue clad miniature warriors ran to their marks, tucked their rifles close to their bodies, tumbled to the next mark, and simultaneously sighted up on the moving target droids buzzing in a balcony above.
A volley of fire. One blaster bolt just a tad slower than the other.
Four moved on. The other was sent back to the line of clones waiting at attention.
Ad'ra's voice could be heard berating the child, although her words were unclear, whipped away by the wind before they reached this vantage point.
She unslung the rifle she'd tucked back behind her, rolled again, and lifted it, already sighting up. Fired once. Turned and blasted something on the opposite wall.
Shouted.
Five clones charged. Ducked. Rolled. Lifted DCs. Mission accomplished. Moving on.
The next five, too.
All hell broke loose on the next set. They fired. Must have done admirably. Then there was a cry of dismay and a lad looked down at his ankle. Looked up at Ad'ra.
She demonstrated running for the scant cover available. Gestured up and opposite.
She'd given them a warning and they hadn't taken it.
When she'd fired aft she'd wanted them to realize there was something there, too, and be aware of it.
Mission successful, but now the 4th was down a man. Not how she wanted her company to run.
"You better fekking come back to me, vod!" she objected, screaming in his face as he tried to get a clear shot of the sniper in the higher balcony. "Find him and take him OUT!"
"What about ba'slan shev'la?"
"Every campaign is a ba'slan shev'la," she told him. "How are you to exit the field if you can't get to your transport or rendezvous without getting shot?"
He glanced down. Rolled his lips between his teeth.
Nodded at her.
Grabbed her gauntlet and typed in a command. Sent it to his vode.
"Ke'mot! Ko'lar!"
[Ceasefire! Regroup!]
He waited until his vode rose to obey, took them all out with marked syntha-rounds.
She was laughing when he dropped and tumbled, all on his own, until he gained the safe zone at the rear of his brothers.
"Helllll yeahhh!" she cheered. "Mandokarla!"
"MANDOKARLA!" her entire company screamed as one.
It was disconcerting.
Her mind was twisted, theirs too clever for their own good.
Any time you heard them let out the chant that meant they'd done well, done something outside the box to get a mission accomplished, it made the hair on the back of your arms stand up.
Devious little punks.
She'd send one to admire some piece of kit you'd donned or distract you with a mission update that you hadn't requested or offer you congratulations on a particularly high score by your own commandos… and the rest of the little dikuts were in your room stealing tech or waiting behind you to slot you with your own knife.
He liked that she kept them sharp. Approved of that, at least.
This thing with the scoreboard she had in their barracks he didn't love.
No man needed to try to sleep knowing he was dead last behind his brothers.
He had no idea how loved that little clone-vod felt, though, lying in his rack that night with Ad'ra stroking his hair.
They'd traded holo-study for holo-novel.
"Is it a good story, vod?" Lathlo asked, looking down from where he dangled over the edge of the higher bunk.
Cin nodded.
"Read it to us?"
Cin and Ad'ra were leaning against the wall, each reading what was on the other's screen.
There were always silent watchers. Clones had an approved curriculum- - even for free time and private study. Lathlo had raced through parts of his and thirsted for more. He wanted to be a Cuy'val Dar like Rav Braylor someday and teach smaller clones to blow things up. History and Social Constraints of Civilized Worlds never had interested him, so he left it for last and lamented his way through it.
Cin glanced up at Ad'ra, who nodded.
Began to read aloud, his voice inflecting perfectly during fight scenes and high-tension moments of the story. Lowering when the hero took a moment for self-introspection. Quickened as appropriate. Slowed when needed for emphasis. Brightened and injected sarcasm or hope or despair as called for.
She wished she could record him, send the vid to the author.
"Do you believe?" he asked that night, glancing up at her, his head still on her shoulder, her fingers combing back the dark waves newly shorn into a little buzz cut.
He was close to two and a half. To a more experienced woman he'd have appeared to be in kindergarten. But she wasn't a mother, or even grown to womanhood. She was a twelve-year-old with a fairly narrow scope of experience when it came to playing with children.
"In what? In what we're doing here?" She nodded reassuringly. She believed they would be the most amazing warrior clan to ever be unleashed.
He lifted his brow. "In the books. In the stories of a hero saving the day, pulling his vode behind him when they doubt."
"I do."
"Are there still castles like that? With knights and dragons and warlords and duels?"
"Absolutely. I believe that absolutely." She glanced around. Most of them were asleep. The ones who weren't would be able to hear them. "You're my dashing knights. Knights of the Republic. Forget those jetiise."
"You're a mercenary, though? Would we have to fight you?"
She shook her head. Opened a graphic of a sun crowded with planets circling in alignment.
"The way I see it, the Republic is like that kingdom in the story. The Chancellor is the King. Each of these planets? The countries that make them up? They're like serfdoms. So the chancellor-king has the big picture and takes care of us all. And the serf- - the home worlds- - they send knights when he asks. They protect him, he protects them. It's symbiotic. They have ranks, too, all those different smaller liege-lords and their knights. Like the parts of your hand. If you cut off your thumb it'll hurt and the rest of your fingers will adapt, but the thumb is no good anymore and the whole hand is weaker. There are people in those kingdoms who aren't good & loyal members of the Republic. Who serve only themselves instead of the chancellor-king's senate. So jedi knights were formed to keep the peace. To investigate wrong-doing. Where they order, that's where we'll go. Secretly. Because in strategy games it doesn't do to reveal everything all at once."
"In the book they leave hints."
"They do." She rested her head against his. Squeezed him tight. "When I grow up, when I start going out to do the work of the Mand'Alor? I'll leave you hints everywhere I go. So you'll know, if you see them, that I'm still on your side."
"What hint?"
"Symbols. Sigils. Do you want to learn them?"
"I do!" a voice called from across the room.
She laughed. "I'll work on that, then." She kissed the silky brow and slid out of the bed.
Fett had told her the last time she fell asleep in here that it had better be the last time.
Her room was so empty, though. And she felt like she belonged in here, with these miniature warriors who would carry on under her father's teachings.
"Mandokarla, vode…" she whispered to the quiet room. "Pax. Somnum."
Little voices called back, "Pax, Al'verde."
Hers were the only multi-lingual adade coming up through the ranks. Her default was Mando'ad and Fett had not been able to break her of it. But her father had spoken Bothan to her just as much, so that was natural as well. Basic was required of her in most settings now and that's what the vode had spoken when she'd gotten them. So she'd learned from them to speak it more often and more naturally.
"What the fek are you doing?" Fett quizzed Ad'ra when she invited him to play chess with her and her guys.
She'd just smiled. "You don't have to. I just thought it would be fun to spend some time with you."
"All right. I'll play your game," he agreed, intrigued.
He'd joined her at the indoor arena. Her men carried plasti-flimsi squares and what looked like sheet-wrapped pipes.
"What is this?"
"We have to lay out our own chessboard. Give them just a second."
Yeah. Pipes. Or… tubing of some kind.
"What are their bludgeon sticks?"
"Oh. We dismantled a couple of the beds for materials. We'll put them back together."
"What's that kid got?"
"He's the king. Only, he's heavy artillery for this exercise. Because they don't move fast, yes?" she asked, glancing up at him.
"Okay. I'll buy that. Where's the queen?"
"Same thing, only it's light artillery. Because she can go as far as she needs to until she takes out a target."
"Fair."
They turned their tunics inside out and revealed the sigils marked inside front and back.
Apparently they were playing Green versus Gold.
"I'll take the Vengence team," he claimed.
"It's Valor," she corrected. "The paint didn't dry the right color."
"My mistake. You're still Dedication."
The boys who lined up in the front row had on the thorned circlet of the Crusaders. Pawns, then. In the next row were the king and queen in the center, flanked by boys wearing the Vizsla coat of arms—bishops, then. Obviously the knights were kyr'bes with rooks as jaig eyes.
"How will they know what to do? Do they already play?"
"They read the rules of movement. We're calling shots, and they'll engage when they're close enough. I wanted them to see it played out once before they take turns of their own. You won't actually take someone out by landing on their square. You have to fight for it."
"You're spending too much time around Vau and Priest."
"This is entirely possible."
"Fine, then," he gestured. "I'll give you home field advantage."
He glanced over the boys who settled themselves around the field to watch. Their sigils were painted in what was unmistakably orange.
"Haar'chak!" she complained. "I wanted to see what you'd do as an opening gambit."
"I'm always going to hold back from making a move I can't take back," he told her. Laughed. "And you're going to wish you'd outfitted yours in purple."
"I don't need luck," she told him. "I know my boys."
She called out a move. Watched the youth advance. Two moves later it was on.
Alor was fighting both One and Sah. Keeping it close, too.
She moved a vod to help him, to engage the clone beside One to take some heat off of him.
"Sentimentality is going to get you killed. Sometimes you sacrifice a pawn."
"Not mine. We're all coming home at the end of the day. Every day. And if that's not your goal you should have had them reared with flash training."
He won. It was probably inevitable. But she had more players still on the field.
He checked his chrono. Shifted something to someone else.
"Now what?" he asked, when the boys were offered refreshment and a few of the pawns swapped shirts.
"Round two. Single elimination. Team Copad Oyacyir gets a turn to take the winner."
"Hmph."
Two little boys ran up, reaching for their vocalization cones.
"A good game, sir," Lathlo panted up at him. "I appreciate being on your side today."
His mate beamed up at him. "When I'm Mand'Alor I'm going to beat the osik out of our Adenn. Every match."
"Thanks, Bopp."
"Someday, if I really do beat you at chess, could you bring me a real kyr'bes?" Lathlo asked Fett.
"Someday, if you really beat me at real chess, I'll make sure you get to where you can have one all your own."
The boy cheered. Turned and snapped out an order. Apparently he'd thought this through and knew which of his pawns he wanted where.
Bopp lost and lost badly, but not due to any lack of valiance on the part of his warring faction. He just wasn't the strategist his mate was. He would be next time, though. He was a quick study.
"Will you be my advisor, if we're allowed to do this again?" he asked Fett when the man explained where he'd gone wrong.
"I may not have an entire afternoon to devote to watching your brothers bloody each other's knuckles again. There are many things that need to be seen to."
The face screwed up. "I need more books."
"I'll get them for you," he promised.
"Vor'e, sir!"
"May we all look at them? Will they be chess books or real strategy?" Lathlo wanted to know.
"If I'd had better armor I'd have beaten you," Bopp complained. "My team was already bloody from last time."
Fett took the opportunity. "Verd ori'shya beskar'gam."
Ad'ra giggled. "Being hard is good. Being hard with superior tech is better," she quipped.
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You are spending too much time in other company's classes."
"Gotta learn somewhere."
"You lost. Twice."
"How do you figure?"
"Impromptu inspection tonight. No way do you pass."
"Fierfek!" she hissed.
The little bodies with them were already vaulting away. One was screaming. "VODE! FORM UP! DOUBLE TIME!"
Fett's hand on her arm restrained Ad'ra from following.
"I want to see what they do," he murmured.
"Fett… you can't punish them for something that was my fault."
No set of half-grown warriors ever chugged down the halls at such a pace with no misstep. Ruler-perfect lines as they belted around corridors and up the stairwells.
In the now-empty arena Fett grunted.
"Oh, trust me, you'll suffer if you don't score well."
"Do mine last," she pleaded.
"Maybe."
Somehow he thought the clever little eyes in the one calling the commands didn't intend to see defeat if it could be helped.
"This sucks."
"Sometimes. Ad'ra? I'm proud of you. You're doing a good job."
She gaped up at him.
He shrugged. "I'd've made you walk the plank otherwise."
"People bitch at me and about me all the time."
"Do I make you heed them?"
"No, sir."
"They're tough little things. I'd put them up against Walon's or Jaig's any day, even being behind them. In straight lines they'll get beaten. Give them some wiggle room… I'm looking forward to a rematch."
"I appreciate you taking the time, Jango," she said honestly. "I had a good afternoon. And so did they. You'll be the star of their dreams tonight."
He scrubbed over her head. "That cheeky one is after my job. See he lets me keep my head a bit longer." He glanced at his chrono. "One hour, Ad'ra. I want you showered and at my side during the inspection. Do not go back to their barracks."
"Fek," she hissed.
He started to walk away. Turned to jog backwards.
"Just be grateful you're getting this much warning. Everybody else is getting ten minutes or less. Based on their numbers."
She glanced at her own chrono.
It killed her when she got the notification about the inspection that went out to the team he expected to accompany him. Kriffing presentation uniforms?
She bared her teeth at the mirror and slung her helmet across the room. She'd just gotten her plates all aligned and fastened.
Kriffing Machiavellian bullshit!
He'd known she'd reach automatically for her beskar'gam. They were Mandalorian. They weren't going to stand inspection in armor?! What the hell kind of army was this? Stupid aruetii. They should have fatigues and beskar and leave it at that. The rest of this…
She slung off her plates and bounced on one foot, trying to strip herself of her body glove too quickly. Dropped it and ripped the prescribed uniform off the hanger. Bloused her trouser legs, tucked and pleated neatly, and button herself up in what she called the straightjacket when she complained. Hers was the one for officers, with the white blouse under the crisp tunic and pants.
She hated dressing out in her blacks.
Hated it marginally less when she saw the others in theirs.
It felt good to stand there with them.
Jaig and Asirel had been warrant officers- - they were still called Chief here and wore the uniform their rank entitled. The NONCOMS & older cadets wore the dark red utilities, with black undershirts. She wondered idly if they had different undershirts or just wore their kute with the heavy canvas.
"Nice," Jaig nodded. Reached for her shoulders. "Jang'ika said you'd be late. You won me a hundred."
"You were betting on me being late?" she narrowed her eyes at the other man.
"That or you ignoring the edict and showing up in beskar'gam."
The heavy footsteps of someone in just that was rounding the corner.
Walon Vau. Of course.
"Miss the memo?" Tiethe' snickered.
He lifted one finger in a rude gesture. "If you comm me last minute you get what you get. I'm not a paper doll and my bunk is clear across the entire kriffing compound."
That made Fett roar with laughter. Of course, he was still in his blue and steel armor, too, so he found it funny.
"Can I have a cut of your take?" Ad'ra asked, whipping around to Jaig.
"Sure. What for?"
"I want some new kute," she told him. "Mine is getting tight again and I want something other than black."
"The black is better," Fett warned her. "You won't find any with more anti-ballistics than what the clones are getting. Just requisition a larger size."
She pouted.
"What color did you want, if you got your way?"
"Well… if I can't have grey until-"
"No, Ad'ra. Do not even make the joke."
"What? I was going to say Pink. Of course I want pink. Why would I want anything other than pink?"
"We'll see."
Fett shook his head. "Do not smuggle her in a pink kute. It would look atrocious with her plates. She needs to wear the same ones as the lads. It's not going to kill her."
Dred wanted to kill her when he showed up. Also in beskar'gam instead of his own blacks.
The jovial laughter didn't put the formidable man in a better mood. He hated being summonsed like he was anyone else. It was one of the reasons Jango did it.
There was an inordinate amount of laughter when they reached 4th Ranger Company.
Fett's extra warning time had been well-utilized. There were no half-assembled bunks, no evidence of paint or bastardized uniforms anywhere. All of them stood neatly in lines, in the prescribed uniform as well- - which for them was armor- - and awaited their judgement. They just happened to be standing where the last few sets of racks usually sat bolted to the floor.
"Ranger Company. Where are your bunks?"
"We removed them, Mand'Alor, sir," the little lad from earlier spat out sharply.
"Why would you do that, soldier?"
"To give us an additional space in order to accommodate any possible requests the inspection team might make of us vis-à-vis demonstrations, sir."
Fett cut his eyes at Ad'ra. Watched her flip up a couple of mattresses as she approached. She did the same in every room. It was almost like she was a kid and knew where kids hid stuff.
"Where are the pieces?" he asked patiently.
"Properly and neatly stored so as not to inhibit any industry or passages, sir. We're squared away, sir!" he bragged.
"I see that."
Dread tilted his head. Ran his hand along the edge of a ledge that only he could have possibly reached. He stalked through the carefully arranged young bodies. Leaned over one or two, trying to intimidate them into moving.
Flinching.
Anything.
He needn't have tried. Ad'ra had already instilled in them an ability to stand ramrod straight for untenable lengths of time. Upright, prone, in every position they practiced it. And usually with rifles aimed at something specific and with the periodic order to fire at that target so she could see if they shifted, if they had laxed any, based on impact.
Plus she tended to come up behind them and try to scare the osik out of them.
Flung stuff at them. Shocked them. Shouted.
These kids weren't balking.
There was nothing frail or unsteady about the 4th ASSRC Company.
"At ease, gentlemen," Fett called.
Approved of the synchronized movement. Saw some blood drip from a glove.
Couldn't be good if the body suit wasn't containing it.
"1103, step out."
The boy's gulp wasn't audible but you could see him swallow.
"What happened to your hand, son?" Jaig asked, seeing what Fett had.
The drop of blood poised to fall to the floor.
The kid never moved. "Nothing that won't heal, sir!"
"Let's see it, while we're here," the other instructor ordered. "Which of you lads is medic?"
"I am, sir."
"Get your kit."
"Roger that, sir."
Rog moved smartly, zipping to the footlocker. He gasped and looked over his shoulder.
"Should I have marched?"
"No, lad," Vau chuckled. "Just get your vod bandaged up."
Jaig agreed. "When I call for a medic I want him to hustle. I think most of us would agree."
"Yes, sir. Roger that, sir."
"I didn't realize it was bad," Guri whispered as the dark heads bent together. "I thought I had it wrapped enough."
"It's just bleeding a lot," Roger told him. Applied some pressure. "I guess I hit you kind of hard."
"I guess."
He left the pad in place. Opened one that was bacta-impregnated and quickly swapped them before wrapping the digit.
"What's next?" Fett prompted.
"I police up every trace, sanitize the fallen blood on the floor, and if it doesn't stop we report it to medbay. Either way I make a notation of injury type and treatment in his log and mine, and restock my kit. Sir."
The recitation was perfect.
"As you were, lads," Fett told the room at large. "Good job. Top marks. Oya!"
"Half their racks are missing-" Vau objected.
Jaig agreed. "You'd never-"
Fett didn't respond, just stalked down the hallway.
"Ad'ra!" he called before he left her to the mercies of the seething men. "I want their bunks back in place. No more of this osik. Tell that kid it was so deep in there you could smell it when the hatch opened."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."
She didn't bother trying to hide her pleased expression.
Sometimes being half the age of every other instructor in the bastion had its rewards.
"Someone should have made you walk the plank, not Yurel," Priest muttered. Turned on his heel.
Her face fell. "What happened to Yurel?" she asked.
The others didn't answer right away.
"What happened to Yurel?"
"He's no longer among us," Jaig finally admitted.
"What about his company? Who will they give it to?"
"They don't need anyone," Walon said vaguely.
"Why?"
"Talk to your boss," the man suggested, holding his hand up so the other men didn't go any further. "Go tell your lads they're off the hook. Get their racks back from wherever the kriff they hid them."
He'd peeked into cleaning supply storage, showers, and cabinets. Had no idea where they'd gotten them stowed.
"Congratulations, Ad'ra," he told her. "You won this one. Nobody will like it and you'll make enemies if any of the other inspectors spread this around."
"I can handle it."
"Can you?"
She stuck out her chin.
He lifted his brows. "Tion'ad hukaat'kama?"
"It's a solo show down here, Sgt. Vau. We don't have the luxury of having someone on our six."
.
o
0
o
.
"I want a set of playing cards in blue, red, and grey," Ad'ra told Fett when he walked into his quarters that night.
She was laying out a five-handed game, something specific apparently, because she was choosing cards carefully from the ones fanned in her grip. More weres lying face-up in the middle of the table.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to figure something out. See if something else would have worked."
"Okay…" he watched her, his head cocked. Picked up Boba and greeted him enthusiastically. "I thought we were playing."
"We are. I just want your help for a second."
She tapped his chair. "This is where you were when I think things went wrong. So look. This is the hand Sgt. Tiethe' had. He drew this one, discarded, and Sgt. Ghett picked it up. So then…"
Fett watched, listened, as she laid out the game they'd played the night before. Sometimes she liked to play with them, but usually the first couple of hands she just wanted to watch. He concentrated on her query, marveled at her recall.
"So I don't know exactly what would have been in which order under the ones that were left, but I've got the ones I saw ready. If Jaig had played this, then Sgt. Vau discarded two and picked up these and you had this one, which he didn't know when he bet, would it have been better for Sgt. Ghett to keep these and throw these instead…?"
Her big, clear eyes stared up at him.
"Well," he admitted. "There's not a definite answer. You saw all of them, we only knew what was in our hands and what we'd seen on the table. Plus there's a human element. Vau likes to up when he's good, likes to nudge it a little when he's got squat, too, so that's not a factor in the decisions H.G. and I made. I tend not to raise a lot. I'm okay with just getting what I get out of it. H.G. goes for flash and Jaig folds when he's got crap. Kei're will play it out, usually, unless all he's got is high card. His betting is more predictable based on what kind of hand he thinks he's got—but you never know if what you've got is actually better."
"So if Sgt. Ghett had gone this way instead, which one would you have gotten?"
Fett picked up his hand, considered the cards on the table. "I'd have traded."
"That's what I thought. So do it."
He obliged her.
"But now, would Jaig have…"
He answered her as honestly as he could, the other hands left face-up.
"So you think these would have still been here for Sgt. Vau when it was his hand, right?"
"If it played that way, yes, probably."
"So he'd have picked them up."
"Yes, but that puts a big hunk of the deck in his hands and not a whole lot of deck on the table, so he might not have."
"Can I ask him?"
"Of course."
She commed his training sergeant. Explained her conundrum. He agreed that he liked having high-stakes matches in his hand, even if he had a lot of chaff, too, because the potential outweighed the risk of getting stuck with them.
Denied that he would have upped the pot much, if any.
She thanked him politely. Went back to their play.
At the end of the game Fett still got the pot, but Vau would have won the points.
"Play it another way," Fett suggested testing her. "What if Walon hadn't picked them up?"
She circled the table, undoing all the last few rounds of moves and bringing chips and cards back from play. Ordering the draw deck and discard pile.
"You know there might have been a little variance after Jaig got to the King, right?" Ad'ra asked the man.
"I understand that."
"Okay. So…"
Away she went.
He was intrigued. Fascinated.
Planned to review the video from the night before, put it beside the one they'd just played, just to fact-check her.
He decided to play a new game.
"Ad'ra, see if you can keep up with the yellow sun," he flipped the card up to show her, got her nod of approval.
Broke the deck in half, showed her how he tucked it under the bottom.
Shuffled. Cut the cards back and forth. Shuffled again. Again.
"Where will it be?"
"Um… it won't be exactly the one I reach for, right?" she asked him. "I mean, if I get close to it, that's good enough?"
"Of course. There's no way you could-"
"Right. Without counting to make sure you had exactly even halves, and because there's human error in shuffling the way you do, I can't get right on it. But-"
He watched her chew on the inside of her lips as she picked up perhaps the top third of the deck. Fanned a couple of cards out. Frowned. Drew the next card from the ones on the table.
There the fucker was.
Bright as any sun on a planet that actually saw daylight.
He met her eyes.
Worry.
He'd worried her.
"That is amazing," he gushed in a breath.
"You're not mad? Should I have let you win?"
"I won, Ad'ra," he told her, pulling her to his side for a quick hug. "You're amazing. Promise me this, though, don't show that trick to anyone else yet?"
"Why?"
"Because I want to think about it. About who to let know and who to keep in the dark. I don't want everyone knowing. Like you keep plans to yourself about ops and things? This is one of those skills you don't advertise. You don't let people see or test the limits of… do you understand?"
She nodded. He saw that she didn't, though. Not yet.
"Do you think I'm a witch?"
"No, cyar'ika."
"My mother told Da…"
"I know. He and I discussed it."
"Okay."
The child warred with the professional.
"You're my ace in the hole. That's one hell of a skill, recall like that? That's a tool you'll be able to utilize in ways you can't even dream yet."
"I don't remember every single thing," she told him.
"I know it. So practice."
"I'm studying the senatorial laws."
"Why?"
"So I can find loopholes. It'll be easier on ops if I know which ones I can exploit, what's not actually prosecutable. Just for bragging rights."
"Don't forget to sleep sometime."
She beamed at him. "I won't. Thank you for letting me work it out!" She hugged him again. Hard. "We can play Boba's game now?"
"Sure."
He wondered if the two children under his care noticed his distraction as they ate their dinners and played what felt like endless rounds of the child's board game. The beeps and blips and lights seemed to get more obnoxious with each round and he was glad when Boba's care droid automatically activated to get him ready for bed. Ad'ra begged the privilege of bathtime and reading his story and he mused over what she'd revealed to him.
Presented his cheek for a kiss when she bounced back out.
"Down for the count!"
"Your turn now. Don't stay up too late, okay?"
"You're the boss," she told him cheerfully.
"I'll get you the colored decks."
"Kandosii!"
He watched her turn a cartwheel into the entrance hall.
"Ad'ra!" he called. Held up the deck they'd been playing with. "Do you want this one for now?"
"Sure."
"Can you get it, from there?"
She just held up her hands like a mitt to catch the deck she expected him to toss.
Of course she could catch it from there.
"No. Can you pick it up and move it, without coming closer?"
She frowned. Recognized it as a test.
He watched her consideration. Felt frustrated when she reached for her datapad. The deactivated care droid in the corner beeped to life.
"NO." He laid his hand on the square of cards. "Just… think about it… hard. Visualize it coming up in the air and moving toward you. Use your mind and-"
He appreciated that she tried. She really did. She didn't actually believe it was going to work- - that was evident from her expression & the way she kept peeking through the lashes of one eye after she squeezed them shut.
"Surar," he soothed. [Concentrate]
"Jango…"
"It's okay," he laughed. "I can't do it either."
He picked it up. Frisbeed the package to her.
"Then why-?"
He shrugged. "I wanted to see. Will you keep practicing?"
"I'll study up on it," she promised him benignly. Disbelievingly. "Humans aren't usually a race that excels at telekinesis, though."
"I know it."
"You should have thought about psychokinesis when you had the vode made. If they could bend rifles or redirect blaster bolts, that would be kandosii."
"Oya!" Fett agreed with a laugh. "I'll do that next time. You find a warrior as strong and capable and mean as me, then, with the ability to bend metal with his mind. That's our next batch, I promise you!"
"You drank too much," she teased him. "Go soak your head and find your pillow!"
"Good night, Ad'ika," he said cheerfully.
Watched her go.
Studied the now-emptied table.
Marvelous.
That trick? That was going to come in handy.
Now he just needed to figure out how to harness it to his own good.