"What do you think she's doing now?"

Ordo paused, glanced at the split screens Mereel and Prudii and Kom'rk watched.

Nearly salivated over.

"Are you spying on the adenn?" he asked, aghast.

"I was monitoring med bay. I didn't expect her to strip down."

"Kal'buir would shit if he saw you…"

"She's not all the way naked."

"She's trying to treat herself, you great chakuur," Ordo pointed. "Look. She's gotten a tub of bacta cream."

"Is she smearing it on a towel?"

"Aww. Poor thing," Kom'rk murmured. "How bad hurt do you think she'd have to be to be wrapping her ribs in a towel soaked in that stuff before she tapes herself up?"

Prudii was up and out of there, sliding down railings rather than use the steps.

"Turn it off," Ordo warned.

Kom'rk reached out. Looked up at his brother.

"What's going on with them? They never comm, barely look at each other, but he finds out that she's not just liberating supplies—that she's really in pain—and off he goes?"

Ordo shrugged.

"Poor, innocent lad," Mereel sang out. "I tell you what I'd do if my girlfriend was down to her brassiere and dancing for my camera."

"She's not in just her bra. She'd pushed up her shirt," Kom'rk told Ordo.

The other boy made a face. "And she's not exactly dancing for the camera if she doesn't know we've put it there, is she?" he chided.

"Only activates if there are disruptors placed. Seemed like a wise precaution after that mess last month."

"I wonder if he'll tell her."

"Probably not. Some things are just for vode."

"Some things are private," Ordo hissed, slapping at Mereel's hand.

Two levels below Prudii tapped on the glass door before sliding in.

"Let me help you," he said softly. "If your ribs are in bad shape you've got to get it good and tight."

"It seems like no matter what I do they won't heal," she complained.

She didn't bother arguing. She was well and truly caught out.

"And I can't let anybody know. Doc would put me on notice and Jango would find out. And if my guys thought they'd hurt me they'd pull punches next time, right? Which doesn't help them out any."

"Your guys did this? Or Sergeant Vau?"

She made a face.

"Somebody."

He unwound the compression gauze and rearranged the towel.

"There has to be a better way than this."

"I thought about spreading it on a sheet, mummifying myself, and just sleeping here."

He laughed.
Reached around her to secure the first loop of wrapping.
Ad'ra held her arms out, bent one elbow to keep her shirt up and out of the way while keeping the surgical towel smooth where she'd tucked it into her bra.

"Will your body glove fit down over this?"

"Yeah. My plates are pretty loose. We didn't get special-issue yet."

She knew the ARCs had. The modifications to Jango's genome that had gotten approved were even more noticeable in the NULLs, but all of the Advanced Recon batches were bigger than the average bear. Standard trooper armor didn't work for them. And they probably weren't done growing yet.

"Why are you wearing trooper armor?"

"I can't stretch my beskar'gam here anymore. I need to go have it professionally done. Get more beskar or durasteel added to the plates. But my da painted that armor for me and you can barely see the stripes now. Plus I'd probably have to be gone for a week, if not more. I'm getting around to it, but for now… it's just me and my vode in hand-me-downs that don't fit because I'm not shaped right."

Prudii looked down into her eyes.

"Feel like the right shape to me."

She laughed at him and slapped his arm.

"So much for altruistic assistance! How did you know I was in here?"

"I have an alert set if somebody uses disruptors on the system."

"Genius." She'd be passing that one along. See what Cin and Sah and Tell could make of that.

He pretended to snuggle in a little closer as he wound a loop around her back.

"Worked out okay for me."

He tucked, pinned, and secured the end. Tugged at the hem of her shirt.

"Come back someday after we're done fighting this war and take it all off for me."

"When I come back after the war it'll be for my new kute."

His brows went up in interest.

"Since the wardrobe department will be out of work?" That wasn't it and he knew it.

She wiggled a little as she tucked her shirt in. Tugged the body glove over her head. Worked her arms through.

At that point she was so used to considering clones her vode that it didn't even occur to her it might be inappropriate to redress in front of him.

"Koo-Tay, Ko-Sai," she sang over her shoulder.

That made him laugh.

"You're nowhere near my size, I'll grant you that, but I think there's not enough of that particular gi-lover to get you outfitted.

He watched her get everything situated, then started handing her plates, moving to her back to help her affix them in place.

Ad'ra sighed. Prudii glanced over at her. It sounded pretty despairing.

"I don't know whether to wish Kaminoans got fat or be grateful they're not."

"Personally, I think they'd be pretty disgusting fat, Adenn."

She arched a brow. Sighed again. "I agree. Completely."

.

Fett had smacked her on the back of the head earlier that day.

"Ow! What!?"

"You said it aloud! I told you you were going to accidentally say it to her face someday!"

"I don't accidentally do ANYTHING, Jango," she told him.

His eyes went wide. "You cannot call her Kute."

The big eyes went innocent. "I think she thinks I have a speech impediment."

"You have a death-wish impediment," the Mandalorian leader argued. "Suicide by aiwha-bait!"

Instantly her expression changed to chiding and she lifted her hands in frustration.

"You just… you… just…"

"Never to her face, little padawan-baby-learner-adiik."

.

Ad'ra was still seething. She hated Ko Sai. She'd make a nice pair of boots someday. And she'd talked to a tanner. He thought that even something with thick amphibious skin—if skinned properly and treated with some preservatives right away—could be turned into a supple leather with some stretch to it.

She had plans to upgrade her kute. She thought dark grey suede would make a cozy and attractive base to her father's dark maroon beskar'gam.

.

"Why is your heartrate always erratic?" Prudii asked her now.

"How do you know it is?"

"Because we break into as many places as we can and find out everything eventually."

She just arched her brow.

"You have bloodwork and an echo three times a year. Everybody else is just once annually."

"I don't know. Nobody thinks my parents had any kind of condition. And I wore a monitor for a while—it doesn't always race. Sometimes it just kind of plods along. Dr. Gilamar said that probably I'll eventually need a pacemaker. He can try to shock it into a steady rhythm but I declined. I think I'm going to hold off on that for as long as possible."

He watched her wince, then reach differently to affix the plates.

"Shoulder hurt?"

"Yeah. Part of it, right?"

"How old are you?"

She had to stop, consider. Looked up at him while she did.

"Seventeen."

"Comm me when you need this changed."

"Prudii…"

"I'm not going to throw you down. I just want to make sure you're alive and well for long enough to teach me about this job you've contracted me to take on after the war."

It made her nod, a tight nod, but acquiescence.

"How did you know it was me?"

She turned, stared at him.

"How did you know I was Prudii, when I came in here? I get my hair cut, I've got to be taller than the last time you saw me, I'm not wearing any visible identifiers. You didn't have on your cuff—so you didn't scan me. So how did you know?"

It made her frown. Consider.

"I don't know. I can't tell you. You don't all seem identical to me."

"Okay. You knew I'd be one of us. How did you know I was me?"

"Prudii. I don't know. I just don't."

"When did you know?"

"After you got the door open, but before you got to me."

"That's something, Adenn. I appreciate whatever that something is. Like you wouldn't believe."

Now her face relaxed and she could grin.

"I appreciate the extra hands."

"Comm me when you want them back on you."

"Your daddy would skin you and mine would cut your thing off," she warned.

He just winked at her and left.

.

.o0o.

.

"Jango!"

Ad'ra ran into the meeting he was conducting.

He hated reviews. Hated pitting instructors against each other.

Dred Priest and Walon Vau were there solely to intimidate Mij Gilamar. They'd just brought home to Vhonte Thervo that she was no match for Wad'e Tay'haai before sending her on her way. The physician was next on his list. He'd have liked to take Llats to task, too, but the man might as well have been a droid for all he cared if clones died so long as his percentages stayed up.

"Adenn," he growled quietly.

Before he could frame a 'get the fek out of here' that still kept her credibility up with the other cuy'val dar she was lifting the kute to show him her abdomen.

"Did you know you could get shot through this thing!?"

She was flabbergasted.

"Let me see it," Gil volunteered immediately.

Fett's hands were already shifting things further.

"What the hell? Have you been doing surgery on yourself? What the fek is this mess?"

"The zap, Jango!" She practically danced in place. "I got shot! I took a hit and it actually… like… got me."

"Were you on the live-fire range?"

"Yeah. Droid ops. Not like real people shooting at me." Her eyes were wide and she was breathing too hard. Too fast.

"You need to calm yourself," he told her.

She did the little run-in-place stomp-dance again.

Gritted her teeth.

"It burns."

"Well, girl-child, blaster fire does that."

"It's not bad," Gilamar murmured. "Looks to be completely superficial."

Fett nodded. He'd been able to ascertain that himself.
He tugged on the greasy surgical towel peeking out of the flesh-colored bandaging.

"What is this, then?"

She grimaced. Glanced behind her.

"Ask me again later?"

"I'm asking you now."

She leaned forward, whispered in his ear.

"She broke three of mine, too," Vau's voice argued before she could finish her disclaimer.

Fett's gaze did not hold the milk of human kindness.

"She's seventeen. By the time we get off this dar'yaim island she'll not have a bone you haven't busted."

"And she's learned exceptionally well to defend herself. I believe the words you're looking for are thank you."

"The words I'm looking for are… if you hurt my adenn beyond repair I'm going to pin your limbs down and see how many organs you can live without."

"Start with his gett'se." Ad'ra just looked at Fett when he glanced at her. "He insulted my technique."

"Did you outshoot him?"

"I almost did. And if his armor wasn't better than mine I'd have shot them off myself."

That made them laugh. All of them.

"How tall are you now?" Fett mused. Rose and seemed to measure. Made a considering face.

"How tall do I have to be?"

"Just make do for now. I think bump up a size as far as the plates go."

"I'm kind of mix-and-matching at present. I need bigger here and here, but my arms and legs are too skinny."

"You'll fill in," he told her warmly. "Get on now."

"What are you going to do about the plates?"

"What do you mean? I just told you to requisition bigger."

"But they're not blast-proof."

She stood resolute, her lip slightly pouted.
It was adorable.
No way would Liam have been able to effectively parent this child.

"They're not. So get some that come down a little lower."

"What if it had hit me dead-on instead of grazing me?"

"We'd be having this conversation in medbay."

She stomped one foot. "What about my vode?"

"Theirs fits," he said, mystified.

Dred got it. "Ad'ra Adenn. They can't all be outfitted in beskar. Theirs are made of durasteel alloy. It's good. And there will be better when the time comes. But nothing stops everything every time."

She just stared at him.

Spun slowly to look at Fett.

"You're sending them out there in this kind of armor and you don't care?"

"We'll discuss it later."

Her mouth opened and his face hardened.

"I said, we will discuss it later."

He articulated every syllable.

"I imagine we will," she told him. Turned on her heel.

.

"I don't envy you that one," Wad'e called. "Has she never seen those plates take a blast before?"

"I suppose not."

"How did she think half of the deaths we rack up occur?"

"She's like sixteen or seventeen," Vau murmured. "She's been here all her life. Hasn't ever seen an actual battlefield. She doesn't have the experience to make the connection. Too innocent."

"And yet there's constantly the mark of your hand on her," Fett argued. "What the hell are you playing at, roughing her up so badly that-"

"Seriously," Gilamar put in. "That bruising over her kidneys is bad. And this latest left her with a lacerated spleen. Neither one of you should be bashing each other again anytime soon."

"I'll bear that in mind."

When both men opened their mouths he held up his hands.

"I'm pissing fekking blood. I assure you, I'm not after a rematch in the near future. But she needs hardening—just like the lads do—and she won't get it running in here for you to put a sticker on the burned spot on her armor. Deal with her hysteria on your own time and let me do the job you hired me to do."

"Beating the hell out of Liam's child is not the job you were contracted for."

"No. I was contracted to assist with the training of your child-army. I can't help it if this far into the game you've realized that some of your training staff also needs some sense beat into them. But," He lifted his finger at Fett. "I assure you of this, because of my tutelage, that Adenn of yours? Mandokarla. And now? Ratiin ramykadyc. She's no weakling to come running to you to kiss her boo boo."

"That's not what she was about."

Fett looked at Dred. Support for Ad'ra was few and far between coming from that corner.

The other black-beskar'd man lifted his brows.

"Vau's not an idiot, but he's got that one wrong. She wasn't in here because she thought he'd come running to fix her hurts. She was surprised it hurt at all when she took the hit. Her concern was faulty armor."

"Has she never taken a hit before?" Wad'e asked.

They glanced around.

Asirel shook his head. "Not with a live round, probably. She's pretty good at what she does. She always has been. You might be able to take credit for beating her into submission-"

"That is not my goal."

He kept speaking over Vau's objection. "She knew how to pick herself up and carry on with it long before she fixed you with her hero-worship."

That made the man shift uncomfortably.

"Unfortunately, she's not as incompetent as half of you here wishes she were. Her da taught her everything he knew and Liam Rottske was not a man to trifle with."

"Thank you," Fett murmured.

"You don't get the credit, either. She doesn't need your coddling—whether you mean to or not—and she doesn't need your tutelage. What she does need is some boots-on-the-ground experience. More than you bringing her out on take-downs."

"She studies military strategy. Command styles and battle tactics. She is simply Marshal, not Mand'Alor. If and when we march she'll simply be relaying my commands."

"And if you go down?"

"I have complete faith in her."

Down at the other end of the table Dred Priest shifted. Stretched out his legs. "You need to bloody her hands. You can't do that in sim-ops and you can't do it here."

"What do you suggest?"

"Find a place where she's going to be guts-deep in it," Vau told him. "If getting shot shocked the hell out of her you should find out if she's got what it takes to stand firm when the man next to her goes down."

"Not in those plates." Mij Gilamar was offended that Fett was letting her run around in white trooper armor. It irritated him as much as it irritated the Aiwha-bait.

"She'll grow into her father's soon enough," Fett conceded. He slapped the table. "Somebody comm Jaig and H.G. and see if they feel like a game."

.

"You really pissing blood?" The medic hailed Vau outside the conference room.

"I am. It's no big deal. Not like I haven't been there before."

"Hit 'im with some imaging in the morning and get the report on my desk," Fett decided. "Her, too. What the fek was that wrap job, Gilamar?"

"I assure you, that wasn't my handiwork. I imagine she's just taping herself up as best she can."

"Happens to the best of us," the tall man snorted.

"You're an absolute jackass. I hope I have to do a chest tube on you."

Priest shook his head as they watched the other man stalk away.

"Pissed him off."

"He ought to be used to it. He takes himself too seriously."

"Come on. I'll buy you a drink then rob you blind." He slapped Vau's back.

Fett figured it was petty to be amused by the pained expression on the man's face. The way he ground his teeth together and schooled his features.

Ad'ra was in just her kute with fatigue pants when he got to his apartment, entourage right behind him.

She shook her head disapprovingly.

"I thought we were going to talk."

He patted her elbow as he slipped past her. "Honestly, we got sidetracked. We'll discuss it when you bring me the synopsis of the scans Gil's going to do on you tomorrow morning."

"Jango!"

He smiled. Held up a deck.

"Feel like dealing?"

That made her light up.
She'd rather deal than play any day.
Absorbed like a sponge.
Peeked, too, but nobody cared so long as she wasn't giving herself a hand.

Jaig presented his cheek to her and Boba both when he joined them.

"H.G. is going to come in later. Make me rich first, little Ad'ika!"

"On it, ba'buir," she grinned. She looked up at Fett. "We need snacks!"

"Mess is closed. You should have eaten earlier."

"I was preparing to get shot. In inefficient armor."

"That's the last dig I'd better take," he told her as he gathered his hand.

She scooted Boba closer to her and gave him two new cards. Shuffled the ones she took into the deck. Fixed Walon Vau with hopeful eyes.

"I'm not making you a snack," he told her. "I can barely breathe, I'm still pissed at you, and I'm not your kriffing short-order cook."

Wad'e glanced over at him.

She intercepted it. "Sergeant Vau is an excellent cook. He knows what goes with what and can slice meat so thin you can see through it! Plus he-"

"You're going to make some lucky man a fine wife someday, Walon," Dred teased.

"Blow me."

"When are you eating Walon's cooking?" Fett asked, still half-amused.

"Anytime I can catch him making a midnight snack," the girl said honestly. "I almost feel guilty conning him into it some nights. I'm going to work it off in trade."

Jaig was just staring at him.

"Not what I said. Not like that," the man muttered. Flipped two cards to Ad'ra. Scooped up the ones she slid his way. He leaned forward. "Stop talking. You're going to get me lynched and all I did was feed you and teach you to sharpen your knives."

"Downside of being raised by a Fett," Wad'e agreed. Played his turn. "They're not into stabbies so their edges get dull."

"None of my edges are dull," Fett countered. "Boba. Don't cheat. Jaig…"

He gave up the warning. With his son sitting between the girl and their erstwhile ba'buir there was no chance of an honest game.

"This is why you three aren't usually invited."

"Which three?" Jaig asked. "Boy! I'll remind you—Mand'Alor or not—that I used to stand you between my knees while we picked the deck clean so you had a chance at winning!"

Fett could do without the reminiscings of that nature.

Both of the children under his banner grinned up at him.

"I'm so hungry…" Ad'ra complained later.

Walon got up. Jerked her chair back.

"Go get whatever the hell it is that your tapeworm is fixated on."

She beamed as he took her seat, shuffled the deck.

"I'll go with you," Jaig said. "I'll show you where he hides his good booze if you show me where the portable stuff is."

"Pfft. I know all the hiding places. Sgt. Vau said years ago that if I'm old enough to be adenn I'm old enough to drink the good stuff."

"Really, Walon?" Fett challenged.

He nodded.

"Really, Fett. That one I will take the hit for." His voice was mild, almost bored as he dealt the first round of cards. "You're taking her out to end men but she can't have a sip of wine or tihaar?"

He looked down at the little boy beside him when Boba fanned out his hand and showed him the cards he'd arranged.

"Time to step up your game, lad. I don't deal from the bottom."

.

H.G. was with them when they came back, laden with a bottle from his own stock as well as some of the roasted nuts he knew Ad'ra ate with relish. Her burden included some fancy cheese and smoked meats as well as mealbreads full of more nuts and seeds. Fett rose, got out glasses and set some of his own offerings on the bar.

Walon held out his hand for the wax-covered wheel.

"I remember how," she told him. Found the end of the string buried in the sealing layer. Beamed at him when unwinding it made the rind separate into two pieces. "Just like the champagne."

"I've never had to repeat myself to you," he said approvingly. Sectioned off a huge hunk to slice into smaller pieces. "Was it the cheese you really wanted? Or the privilege of opening it?"

She bit the side of her lip.

"Both. The second first. Now…" She closed her eyes as she laid the first slice on her tongue. "Mmmm."

His face was unused to smiling. It was hard to maintain a dull existence around her, though.
He handed her a piece of dried fruit, too. Poured a few kernels onto the plate.

"Try them together. The tartness and sugars in the fruit bring out the bloom of the cheese. Then the crunch of the nuts and the salt preps your palate for the next."

He demonstrated, tucking a piece of the cheese inside the fruit's thick peel. He chased it with a deep swallow of the amber-gold liquid.

"Is that your favorite whisky?"

"Very possibly."

"I liked the pink one."

"It wasn't pink."

She made a face at him.

Carefully separated and stuffed. He offered her his glass.

She gestured with her head to where Fett was helping Boba get situated with a plate of munchies and sweets.

He lifted his eyes heavenward and sighed.

"You're either under his thumb or you're one of us."

"Or," she countered. "I could be simply respecting a man I admire instead of defying him purely for the privilege of rebelling."

He seemed to consider it.

"Try it with it, just for the experience. Then go back to your shiig and fizzies."

She obliged him in that, as did Jaig and Priest.

"So what we now know—after a fekking e'tad on this island—is that Walon should be the one running the officer's mess."

He lifted his hand in a rude gesture.

Enjoyed the simple skraan'ikasse even if it did come from his larder.

Lost money for the first time in years. Lost significant sums of money.

Eyeballed the girl dealing.

She'd taken a break when it was time for Boba to go to bed, spent some quiet time with her vod'ika instead. Had joined the game with gusto when she returned.

Blew through the money Fett opened her with.

Came back and doubled it.

Lost most of it again.

Her style seemed to be anything goes and he couldn't get a read on when she bluffed and when she had a solid chance. Sometimes it played out for her, sometimes not.

"You're playing too many methodologies," Fett told her. "You have to pick one and stick with it."

"I don't know which one will work for me."

"Bet when you have good cards. Fold when you don't," Dred advised her.

"Then you'll know by what I bet if you should fold or not."

Walon took a trade of two. Threw a coin into the pot.

"In or out."

"In," she decided. Licked her lips.

Fett had pulled out some dessert bark completely encrusted with toasted nuts. She'd taken a portion and broken it into several thousand million smaller pieces. Seemed to be sucking the chocolate from the bottom layer before crunching the flakes and nuts. It took her forever to eat each shard.

She was going to be fekking gorgeous someday. Those lips alone would make some man's dreams come true.

She added the coin. Added another in a smaller denomination.

Caught it before it finished spinning.

Carefully regarded the men left around the table.

Lifted her hand.

"Okay." She worked her jaw, considering. Fett grinned over at her. "Yeah. For real. That's what I want to do."

"Children should be banned from gaming tables," Dred announced drolly when he played his, met the bet and the up.

Jaig followed suit.

"All right, hot shot," H.G. needled Walon. "Let's see 'em."

When he dumped his cards Ad'ra whooped in delight.

He thought it was enthusiasm at his luck until she slapped down her own. Reached for the pile.

"Eh-eh-eh," Fett chided. Slowly flipped each of the cards in his hand one at a time.

"You're fekking kidding me," Vau bitched.

The odds of him having the Idiot's Array--the best set, then getting beat by better suits-not once but twice in the same hand were astronomical.

"I can't believe you were sitting on that and only upped it a tenner."

He shook his head. "And if I'd upped it much more I'd be cashing in more cred to our host. No, thank you."

"Come back anytime, boys," Fett grinned.

.

Ad'ra stayed to help him clean up.

He'd hoped she would hop along, leave him with Walon Vau. No such luck. He left with H.G. and Jaig hung around to chitchat. Priest took his sweet time leaving, too.

"Ad'ika," he decided to broach the subject. "You're of an age now that it's time to start being careful about whose knees you sit on."

She made a face at him.

"I didn't sit on anyone's knee…"

"I meant it metaphorically."

She absently rubbed at the spot on her belly where the plate had gotten singed by the blaster.

"Let me see it."

He pulled the med kit from the 'fresher and applied some bacta.

"Did Walon Vau wrap this for you?"

"No. Why?"

"Because usually Mij Gilamar gets his smoother than this and he tends not to need the clips to hold it."

"Who wraps Sergeant Vau's when he's gotten injured?"

"I assume he either takes care of it himself or gets H.G. to do it. Maybe gets one of his squad medics to practice."

"He doesn't seem the type to ask for help."

"I agree," Fett told her.

He winced when he unwound it, found the makeshift bacta patch.

He touched the awesomely horrendous bruising.

"These are just cracked?"

"Just barely cracked," she assured him. Frowned. "We hit the railing."

"What were you fighting about?"

"We were just sparring. Kal Skirata gave the vode lectures about knife fighting. I'm going to be bad ass someday."

"He came after you with a knife?"

"We were both in full gear, cut-gloves, and helmets."

"Who won?"

"Asirel called it a draw after we went over the railing."

"He took you over the railing?"

"I don't think it was his intention."

Fett shook his head in disbelief. "The two of you are going to seriously maim each other some day and it's going to be on your conscience for the rest of your life."

"It isn't enough, the sims and the blunt-knife practice. I understand where he's coming from. Hard men are hard to kill."

"You're a teenage girl. I'd rather no man be trying to kill you. Even in the name of hardening you."

"Why was Mij Gilamar in the meeting with Vhonte Thervo?"

"Because it was my intention to ream him a new one, too. For which I did not need your assistance."

"We're stomping all over their numbers."

"You are, my little braggart. Sometimes a slice of humble pie would be a better finish."

"Why do you put up with substandard results?"

"Because they're not actually substandard. They just look like it compared to the successes others are having."

"Are they not tied for penultimate?"

"They are."

"Will their vode be destroyed?"

"They will not be. The troops are not to blame. It's the same genome across the board with the regular RC companies. Somebody will always have to be last."

"It won't be me."

"I don't believe that accusation was ever made."

She looked at him seriously. "It's made all the time. They all believe I'm a joke. That my men won't make the final cut. That I'm basically a pet of yours and here on pity. Like Casalla Reau. If Isabet and Dred Priest didn't have their little sicko side show going she'd be on her own."

"She's not sane and not safe. Stay away from her until you're given leave to do otherwise. Specifically by my tongue. Do you hear me? Do not even stare at her for long until this contract is ended."

"Why did Asirel decline the invitation?"

"He was free to do so."

"Do you think he really disapproves of drinking and gambling?"

"He was brought up in a strict culture."

"But he slots people for a living."

"Yeah." Fett paused in his ministrations. Made a face. "Ironic, isn't it? He goes from my body is a temple to your body is soft and ineffective at holding your life's blood."

She laughed and braced against the pain.

He finished wrapping her.

Just looked up into her young face.

So smooth and unlined, but there was some real living in her eyes now. Shadows and clouds instead of just the endless dark.

"You scare me. I'm never sure if I've done the right thing." The winged brows went up, encouraging him to continue. "You're so smart. So competitive. You might have been a world games champion. Or I could have sent you to school somewhere. You might have been the one to cure cancer and eradicate disease."

She snorted. "It would be hard to answer your summons if I was at university in the middle of exams when you commed me."

So naïve sometimes.

Her face fell. "If my da were here, would things have been very, very different?"

He nodded. "You know they would be."

"You wish it was still him, instead of me?"

The man tightened his lips. Shook his head.

"I wish for him because I'll always miss him. He was like my hand, Ad'ra. My fist. What made me stronger, better, smarter. What held me to a higher standard. Kept me sane sometimes. I sought his opinion in all things and he gave it to me honestly and always with his full support. And I did the same for him."

"You haven't been able to rely on me the same way. Because I'm too young and inexperienced."

He lifted his shoulders. "I do not regret that he named you his successor. Only the opportunities it's cost you over the years. I'll make up for them. I promise. Someday you'll be free to go to every star, chase every moon."

He shook her hands.

"Don't go to men's rooms at night. Please? You're getting so grown and it won't be long before everyone else realizes that, too. I don't want you hurt because you misunderstood an invitation. And I don't want you to accidentally end up in over your head."

The smile she gave him wasn't one of comprehension. Instead she just curved her closed lips and nodded her agreement. He gave up. He'd planted the seed and that was the best he could do at present.

"Who do you trust the most?" she asked, a moment of clarity.

"With you or with me?"

"With Boba and I."

"Jaig. If anything happens—if I should fall or you are unable to make contact with me—I want you to make your way to Jaig. He'll get you to Mandalore, help guide you through the rest."

"I'll never leave Boba alone. I promise."

"You take care of yourself, too," he chided. "I loved you long before I had him. And I'd be afraid to have to face your father's soul in Manda and have him challenge my place there. So, girl-child, I need you to be extra careful with yourself."

"Ba'buir is very old, though, isn't he?"

"Yeah," Fett's face clouded.

"Do you love him?"

He nodded. "He's never steered me wrong. I believe he wants what's best not just for us personally but for all of Mando'ad."

"He chose H.G. and Sgt. Vau and then you let them choose the rest."

"In a round-about way. There was more discussion than that. But, yes, I took a lot of his advice. Took a lot of their suggestions in turn."

Her nose wrinkled. "How did Dred fekking Priest end up as one of us?"

"Because he had contracts out for him, which made turning me down near impossible. The man's good at what he does."

"I don't trust him."

"He was loyal when we needed him to be."

"I do not think that he would be loyal to me if you were gone."

"Nor do I. You'll note he was not who I named as one I'd send you to in the event of my death."

She hugged him. Hard.

He carefully pulled her to him, just holding her shoulders.

"I'm not rushing to it. I'm enjoying being Papa. Enjoying who you're turning into. Even without your da beside me, life is better here than I expected."

"You're the biggest fish in the pond," she smiled.

"I'm a pretty big fish no matter which pond I'm in."

"Why don't the grown vode look more like you?"

"Because I've got some age and living on me. And they've never been poor or gone without. They get good nutrition and excellent medical care. The best money can buy from the moment their existence began. My start was a little rockier."

"Do you think the people would rally behind him to replace you?"

"Who? Boba?"

She shook her head. Pouted a little.

"Jaig?"

"Priest."

"Gods, I hope not. Hopefully Boba will be well-able to defend the title before I slip out of this life. And you'd be there, mustering on his behalf. Right?"
She nodded. "I don't want to think about mustering for him," she said suddenly. "I'm afraid that if there ever were a Mandalorian war that they're right and I won't be good enough."

"If he needs to lead our people to war you gather my circle first. You gather the first marshals from those men who sat with us tonight. Gilamar and Asirel and Braylor, too. I like Devin Narosh, even if others think him vapid. And Kei're Hosch Tiethe'. You pick them. Your ten. Your marev…"

He took her hands, spread the fingers. "On this side you pit Jaig and against him on this side you put Walon Vau. For all his coldness he is loyal to you and will both honor and defend you, just as Jaig will. Then you fill them in. H.G. and Tay'haai. Fenn Shysa back on Mandalore." He closed his fingers around hers.

"Do not mistake the battles that I would have fought with the ones you see me fighting, Ad'ra. Things are happening and they'll move faster and faster now. You keep your eyes and your ears open and your mouth shut. And if I fall—when I fall—you pick Boba up and you give him these two solid fists to support him. He'll need you at first. He's keen, as you were. And if you build a gauntlet with the faces and names of men and women known and respected and even feared… this will start the revolution against those who use us and then discard us when we are no longer convenient."

"That's what all mercs are, though, right? Convenient army for hire?"

"Indeed. But we can be so much more if we can stand united."

"I don't like bounty hunting. I just want to be an assassin. I don't hate this, either, except that I had to make it up to suit me. And I kind of wish I had served prior to coming here. It's like they all know something I don't. They're all part of some club that won't admit me."

"The time will come when they're courting your good favor."

"Some of them won't get it."

"Your list will be bloodied soon enough. And I've yet to object to any you've added to it."

"It's not a real list, Jango. Like, not written out on a datapad."

"Wise. Keep it up here." He tapped her brow. "But you're deceiving yourself to think I don't know what you're thinking when you're assigning yourself future targets and deciding how they'll die."

She blushed. "I didn't realize I was being obvious. Sergeant Vau says I open myself as a target for malcontent. That I need to learn temperance and discretion."

"That will come with time." He bit the bullet. "You're going to his rooms, Ad'ra? At nights? Indulging in his wines and beverages? And he's cooking for you?"

"I don't really go begging," Ad'ra told him. "I have better manners than that."

"Has he touched you, in ways he shouldn't?"

She frowned. "I mean. I know H.G. and Dr. Gilamar get upset because-"

"As a man, Ad'ra. Does he take you under him, take you to bed?"

She blushed. Shook her head.

"Does he intimate things? Make comments or suggestions?"

"Um. Like… braiding my hair so it can't be used against me? Or that I seem suited to lead with my left foot instead of my right?"

Fett wanted to bang his head on the hardness of hers.

In a way, though, her misunderstanding was an answer in and of itself.

"Never mind. Just… go easy on the spirits."

"I didn't love the way I felt after the champagne wore off," she told him. "I don't think I'm cut out to be a drinker."

The sigh was that of the long-suffering.

He laughed then.

"Go to bed, little Ad'ika. Stay off scaffolding with Walon Vau if you're not magnetizing your boots to keep you upright."

"At least he caught me so I landed on him instead of the ground," she complained. "Finding out these plates are crap would have been a million times worse that way."

He just pointed. He didn't want to get into the discussion about armor and costs and exportation of valuable beskar.