Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The wind of Melida/Daan whistled an eerie, discordant tone as it blew through the empty, crumbling ruins of what had once undoubtedly been a metropolis.

Mand'alor Jaster Mereel stood atop the ruins of what had once probably passed for a skyscraper, a tall building now fallen over and broken open. Gray-green eyes scanned back and forth over the empty city, while the wind pushed through short black hair, grown out only slightly longer than the standard commando crew cut he had worn for most of his life. He was a tall man, and from his perch atop the fallen building, he could see as far as the low level of smog would let him.

His buy’ce was clipped to his belt, exposing a weathered face, lined with stubble he hadn't bothered to shave off that morning, and sporting a nose that had been broken at least twice throughout his life. From the neck down, he was encased in a full set of beskar'gam .

His chestplate was a rich green, matching his greaves and buy'ce , and the kar'ta in its center was painted a bright red. His gauntlets and boots were both black, but were outlined in unpainted silver beskar . A Mythosaur sigil in black, the symbol of his movement, adorned his right shoulder.

He looked every bit the warrior his people expected him to be. And he was here on this broken planet to hunt.

Whatever the ruins before him had once contained - homes or businesses -  all evidence of their existence had long since been erased, the contents of the building looted, destroyed, or simply succumbing to age.

The ruins looked like what a holo-novella imagined a bombed out city to be. Dull and gray, overcast by either natural clouds, ash, or smog. On this planet he couldn't really tell. The landscape as far as the eye could see was littered with broken buildings and cracked stones.

That so much of the city had been hewn from stone had likely been in the hope of building a city that would last - one that wouldn't rot with the passage of time. Little good that had done. All that was left now was an empty battlefield, one that bore its scars for all to see.

He was pulled from his musings by a loud crash and turned around to the dust settling as the last large chunk of stone was dropped behind him.

His ship, the Legacy, had just turned its tracking beam off, and now angled off to port in order to land, their little barricade now done.

It wouldn't mean anything in ship combat, but their employers had assured them their marks had no such technology available to them. So after some deliberating over how best to set up their base camp, they had used the ship's tractor beam in order to move rubble to form a little half-circle barricade at the city's outer edges. Anyone coming from outside the city had to cross cleared flatlands, and would be easy to spot and deal with. Anyone coming from inside the city would have to go over or around the piled stone.

Jaster watched the ship, a smile touching his face as he recognized the exaggerated care with which the ship was slowly put down. Jango had clearly not forgotten what had happened the last time he had been allowed to land the ship.

He triggered his jetpack for a short leap, landing on top of their impromptu barricade, before making his way down on foot, a task that involved leaping from stone to stone, trusting in the shocks in his armor to prevent him from hurting himself. The barricade wasn't so high or treacherous that he felt the need to waste jetpack fuel, but it certainly took longer.

By the time he reached the ground and was walking toward his ship, the ramp had already descended, and his children were making their way down.

Arla, his eldest at 24, was in the lead, her short blonde hair moving slightly in the breeze. Half a head shorter than Jaster, she was also wearing a full set of beskar'gam , save her buy'ce , which she was carrying under her arm. Unlike her family, most of the set was painted an overbright combination of red and gold, except her chestplate, which was a deep black. She was practically a walking beacon anywhere she went, which Jaster knew suited her just fine. She was saying something to her younger brother Jango, who had just turned 21, and was already securing his buy'ce over his head. Jango was the shortest of the three of them, and was very upset when he learned he would likely not be growing anymore. He kept his dark hair cut shorter than Jaster's, disliking the way it naturally curled as it grew out, claiming it made him look like a child. He was stocky and well-built, in beskar'gam painted a blend of bronze and orange. Like Jaster, the kar’ta at the center of his armor was red. Unlike the other two, his armor was edged in white all along its sides.

Jaster knew that his son's late start had bothered him. The white meant nothing to outsiders, but to Mandalorians, Jango wore his inexperience like a sign. Jaster had pushed him on it once, assuring him that he had earned the right to re-paint by now, but Jango had only shrugged nonchalantly and dismissed the topic. Jaster honestly couldn't tell if the boy was still struggling with doubts or if he actually just didn't care that much.

"...not like the air is toxic here, you know," Arla was saying as Jaster came within earshot. "You don't have to jam that on your head the first chance you get."

"I know! But could you blame someone for thinking it was?" Jango asked, his voice distorted slightly by the vocoder in his buy'ce .

"Not really," Jaster grunted as he came closer, both his kids' attention drawn to him as he stopped in front of them.

"See anything new?" Arla asked, brushing a lock of her blonde hair out of her face.

"Only that it's worse than it looked from the air," Jaster answered with a sigh. Arla made a face.

"And it was pretty ugly from the air." She glanced over their impromptu barricade. "You know, there's no way anyone in the area didn't hear that."

"Which would be a problem, if it wasn't the plan." Jaster reminded her, before turning to Jango. "And the plan is…?"

Jango stood to attention, as though he were just some new recruit, and nervously recited, "Arla and I are performing joint reconnaissance while you stay and watch the ship to see if anyone comes to investigate!"

"Jango!" Arla snapped before Jaster could respond. "That is not proper rest position. What are your arms doing just dangling at your sides? And you will address your CO with the proper respect!"

Jango regarded her silently for a moment, before asking, coolly, "Are you proud of being able to do such a good impression of Silas?"

" Ad'ika ," Jaster said pointedly, although he couldn't totally keep a trace of amusement out of his voice. Both kids turned back to him, Arla's cheeks pinking slightly.

"Sorry buir ," she mumbled. "But I mean - come on, you saw how he was acting."

"I was-" Jango began furiously, before Jaster cut him off.

"You were nervous about being out on a proper hunt. There's nothing wrong with that. But you both should stop this before you head out. We don't know how dangerous our marks are and I don't want anything going wrong because you're bickering." He said it without any heat whatsoever. He knew it was in his children's nature to fight over anything and everything. It was as natural for them as breathing. But while Jango had been out in the field before, it had never been like this, with so little back-up and so many variables.

"Sorry, buir ," Jango said, sounding properly contrite.

"It's fine. I just need to know you two are focused on the task at hand." He watched them for a moment, and both of them nodded. "Good. Now I'm going to put out our proximity sensors and find a place to set-up, where I'll monitor you both. And I want you two to stay close to each other, understand? The Melida weren't clear about exactly what kind of weaponry this group has. It's unlikely that it's anything too dangerous but I don't want to take unnecessary risks."

He waited until Jango and Arla had nodded again before continuing.

"You find someone, don't pursue. There's not going to be much point. As empty as this place is, the noise of our packs is going to carry. Anyone out there will hear you coming well before you see them. That hopefully won't stop you from seeing them - or at least, picking them up on your heat tracker - but without knowing what these people are capable of, don't trust anybody with a head start. It'll be enough to confirm they're in the area and to give a place to start a proper sweep. Got it?"

" Lek, buir ," they chorused in unison, and Jaster grinned.

"Alright then. Let's get to work."

Arla put her buy'ce on and she and Jango made their way toward the stone barricade, while Jaster passed by them up the ramp to retrieve his equipment, pausing at the top as he heard the kids' jetpacks start up, continuing to listen as they traveled into the city.

Yes, that noise would definitely carry. With luck, anyone watching would think there were only the two of them, and would try and check out the ship while Jaster kept watch. He'd much rather be the one to deal with these guys first. It wasn't that he intended to keep Jango from seeing any action, but something about this job was making him uneasy.

It had seemed perfectly normal when Jango had proposed it, a mid-scale bounty on an insurgent group troubling a planet at war. That it was a civil war was rather irrelevant, provided that it didn't get in their way. But once he started researching the planet, (alongside Jango so it could double as a training exercise), there were some points that stuck with him.

For a start, he didn't actually know when the war had started. The few publicly available records that the Melida and the Daan had posted didn't have a specific date. They just referenced the war as having been ongoing "for generations" - a long time, sure, but non-specific. Republic records only listed the war as "on-going" with no start date. It seemed like nobody knew .

And it got stranger when he cleared their mission with the Daan. The Melida had been the one to hire them, but after reading up on the planet's circumstances, Jaster had been sure to contact a representative of the Daan as well, in case the Melida had been trying to trick them. But no, the Daan gave their blessing.

And that was weird . Because for two peoples that had a blood feud stretching back farther than any of them can even remember to have jointly agreed that a third party was needed to clear out an insurgent problem was a big deal. And yet, they had almost no information on them. No numbers, leader, motive, origin - nothing. Only a vague assertion of where they were based. It was what had originally made it appealing to take on. That kind of on-the-job recon and learning was exactly the kind of skills both Jango and Arla needed to develop.

And yet…

Pirates were everywhere, even in the Mid and Inner Rim, whatever the people living there liked to pretend. A group of opportunistic pirates trying to exploit a relatively isolated planet in the grip of a long-running war was perfectly logical. But if that was the case here, why wouldn't the Melida tell them so? They were clearly withholding some information, but what? And why?

It was why he wanted to make first contact with this group, why he had hung back and sent Jango and Arla ahead. They had a job to do, and they would do it, but Jaster didn't like so much being kept from him. He had no intention to get caught up in the planet's messy politics, and once his curiosity was satisfied, they could do what they came here to do and move on.

Setting up the proximity sensors was routine at this point. He knew how far apart to place them to get the optimal range, and finding the little nooks and crannies to hide them from prying eyes in the city required little thought, allowing him his musings as he placed them around the ship, before settling himself in the remains of a building across from their barricade, propping himself against what must have been an old support pillar and pulling out his datapad to track Jango and Arla's progress.

He was a little out of the way, but wasn't really trying to conceal himself. He had faith in his senses and reflexes - not to mention faith in his beskar'gam 's ability to take a shot if all else fails - to keep him safe. And so, he waited.

Arla and Jango were making a slow sweep of the empty city, their little figures on Jaster's pad pinging regularly with their scheduled check-ins, but there were no alerts of spotting anyone.

Jaster was just beginning to wonder what their next step would be if their marks weren't in this region when his pad flashed a warning that the proximity sensors had been tripped.

The sensors were set to send off a private alarm to Jaster's pad, and he was careful to give no external sign that he had noticed anything, keeping his eyes downward as he tracked the newcomers' progress.

Interestingly, they weren't making their way over or around the barricade, but were moving parallel to it, slowly coming toward Jaster from his right side; looking for him. Whoever they were, they were smart enough not to assume the ship was unguarded. He had no visual input, and could do nothing but watch the little dot move closer and closer to him.

Eventually, it stopped. He couldn't be certain without looking up to check, but he was fairly sure that whoever it was had stopped at an angle they could see him from.

His heart began to beat faster as he waited for a rifle shot to hit him, glad he had sealed his buy'ce before settling in.

Nothing happened.

The seconds rolled by, turning into minutes.

Nothing.

It seemed his watcher didn't want to shoot him.

So… what, then? Did they know they were caught? Were they hoping to see Jango and Arla return? Just curious?

Jaster ran through the options in his mind and discarded each of them. There was no sense to it. They didn't need to be at the ship to see Jango and Arla return. They hadn't made any attempt to leave. And who approaches a hostile Mandalorian in full armor, in a warzone out of sheer curiosity?

Jaster didn’t like not knowing.

He stood up and stretched, taking his time doing it, allowing his shadow time to react. When he glanced down, he saw the dot hadn't moved. Good. Smart enough not to fall for an obvious bait to get them out of cover. Just as well Jaster wasn't planning on using any more bait.

"If you're not interested in shooting," He called, ensuring his voice was loud and clear. "Maybe we can talk instead."

Nothing happened for a few seconds, and then, off to the right, a few small stones were knocked loose and fell off of a raised platform as a figure rose from behind a broken pillar a little ways up their barricade. They pushed back the hood of their cloak, but from this distance, Jaster couldn't really make out any features, only really seeing the rifle in their hand and the fact that they seemed to be covered in chalk dust - which he supposed made sense for someone making their way around this place on foot.

Rather than calling anything back down to him, the figure elected to just focus on getting down, rifle still in hand, as they picked their way amongst the broken stone. Jaster walked toward them, making sure his hands were visible, and drew breath to compliment their climbing skills.

However, his words died on his lips as the figure made the last leap to the ground and stood level with him.

A cold wave of anger washed over him as the boy straightened up, brushing away a few rocks that had clung to his pants. He was maybe half Jaster's size, wrapped in an overlarge dull gray cloak that he could now tell had been intentionally covered in the dust and dirt of the city to better blend in. It didn't hide the fact that the boy looked painfully thin and gaunt, his eyes surrounded by dark bags, and his hair, which must've once been a bright color, was wispy and covered in the same dust as the rest of the city.

His planned easy-going demeanor was gone, and he leaned forward without meaning too.

"What are you doing out here, ad'ika ?" His voice came out flat and cold, and some small part of him was glad the boy couldn't see his glare behind his visor.

The boy frowned. "That's your opener? And what does 'adika' mean?"

"It means child, because I was expecting an adult ." Jaster growled. "What hut'uun sent their ad out here instead of coming themselves?"

"No one sent me!" The boy was clearly surprised by Jaster's behavior, and seemed a little affronted. "I came out because I was the best choice to. We wanted to see what you were doing."

"You are a child and shouldn't be in a warzone! You-"

"Well then I must be on the wrong planet!" The boy retorted hotly, interrupting him. "Or do you not know where you are?"

Jaster blinked, taken aback, and straightened up.

"I- sorry," He said, trying to ignore the clear look of surprise on the kid's face. "I'm not mad at you. Just shocked to see a kid here. Not exactly a great place for you to be."

"Yeah, well," the boy said uncertainly, clearly confused by this turn of events. "This is where I am."

"Right," Jaster replied, having absolutely no idea what to do with this conversation. "I guess my question is why are you out here? I could've shot you." And his stomach twisted at the thought. He wasn't even sure this boy was old enough to have started getting his armor pieces. He certainly didn’t look old enough to have gone through a verd'goten .

"I could've shot you, too," The boy replied petulantly, sounding quite a bit like Jango, which did Jaster no favors right now. "Although," he said more quietly, looking down at the rifle in his hands. "I'm not sure it would've done anything to that armor you're wearing."

Examining the rifle, Jaster felt himself agree. It was an old model, clearly well cared for, but in the way an old gun still seeing active use was. There were clear signs of wear and tear, a few pieces that had obviously come from different guns - he was half-surprised no part of it looked to be held together with some kind of tape.

"Is that why you didn't shoot?" He asked carefully, watching the kid for a reaction.

The boy didn't look back up at him, still staring at his rifle.

"I don't want to fight you," he finally answered, voice soft. "Wouldn't do us any good."

"Us?" Jaster asked before he could stop himself.

The boy's head shot up, and now he was glaring at him. "That's why you're here, then? Here to get rid of the Melida and the Daan's 'little problem'?"

Jaster frowned and, making a split second decision, reached up and removed his buy'ce , tucking it under his arm. The boy stared as Jaster sank down to one knee to be roughly on eye level with him.

"That is what we were hired for." Jaster said gently. "But on my honor, I am not going to hurt you. No True Mandalorian would lay hands on a child."

The boy's expression turned cold.

"I've heard similar promises before," He said flatly. "But you're going to have to pick, Mandalorian. Between that honor of yours, and your job."

Chapter Text

"Jango, Arla, head back now."

"What? Buir-"

"No danger, but something's come up. Rendezvous with me as soon as you can."

"Lek, buir."

"You're… calling them back?" The boy asked hesitantly.

"Yes," Jaster said. "If you're telling the truth, then we can't complete this contract."

The kid's mouth fell open slightly, clearly taken aback.

"I… oh. I'm uh, I'm sorry. For-"

Jaster waved a hand, cutting him off. "Don't apologize. If what you've told me is true, you have every reason not to trust me."

According to the boy, their 'insurgent' group was made up entirely of children. Jaster had his doubts, but if it was even close to true they had to change tactics.

He walked back over to the kid from where he had stepped away to recall Jango and Arla.

"What's your name, kid?" He asked, making sure he used the Basic word. He was trying to place the boy's accent - Core, he thought, although it was hard to tell. He certainly sounded different than the few natives Jaster had spoken with.

The boy eyed him for a moment, apparently sizing him up, before answering.

"Obi-wan." No family name - not surprising. He was still wary of him.

"Nice to meet you, Obi-wan." The formality was unnecessary, but Jaster felt a smile touch his face as the boy arched an eyebrow at him.

"I'm Jaster Mereel. You can just call me Jaster." He held out his hand, watching Obi-wan carefully for any sign of recognition. There was nothing, though, aside from the same wariness he'd been showing this whole time as he slowly reached out and shook Jaster's hand.

"You have manners," Jaster observed. "When I went to shake our contractor's hand he didn't seem to know what to do with it."

"Maybe he thought you were going to hurt him," Obi-wan said.

"From the sound of it, maybe I should've," Jaster growled, taking a few steps away and crossing his arms. Obi-wan stood stoically, scanning the buildings as he waited for Jaster's ad to reappear, and Jaster took the opportunity to study him a little more closely.

The cloak was drawn back, and Jaster could see that underneath was a strange mish-mash of clothing. Baggy pants covered in what seemed like dozens of pockets, some of which looked like they had been sewn on, were held up by a leather belt adorned with a few knives, only one of which was in an actual sheath. His shirt looked more like a tunic, the sleeves ending at a pair of fingerless gloves. His shoes were so thin he couldn't help but think they would offer little protection against the sharp rocks strewn across the ground, but he supposed that they helped him move quietly. He was also clearly on edge and nervous, not convinced of Jaster's sincerity.

Whatever the truth of this matter was, Jaster knew he needed to act as though he believed Obi-wan. The boy seemed smart enough that Jaster could show some degree of skepticism, but only so far as needing proof. If Obi-wan really thought Jaster didn't believe him, then Jaster would never be allowed to get proof.

And he needed proof. Or a noticeable lack of it. Even if Obi-wan was lying to him, there had to be at least a few other adiik wrapped up in this in order to sell that lie. Young ones to trot out and try to convince the mercs to go away, who could be used as hostages.

It was hard to judge his body language, especially with him still holding the rifle. Nervous, certainly, but he'd be nervous whatever the truth was. He turned to look back at Jaster, meeting his gaze and holding it.

"You don't believe me," He said, strangely calm.

"I don't want to," Jaster replied evenly. "Would you, in my place?"

The boy had no answer to that, and looked away. Then, both of their attentions were claimed by the twin sounds of jetpacks rapidly approaching them. They both looked up, waiting for Jango and Arla to come into view over the rubble. It only took a couple seconds.

They dropped down almost directly overhead, landing a few feet away from Jaster, both of their gazes trained on Obi-wan. Arla's hand drifted toward her blaster, and Obi-wan tightened his grip on his rifle.

"Arla!" Jaster barked. She started a little, head swiveling toward him. He couldn't see her eyes through her visor, but he was sure she was glaring.

"Obi-wan here came to talk to us in peace . Show him the same courtesy."

"He has a gun," Arla pointed out, clearly sullen at being reprimanded.

"So he fits right in," Jaster replied cooley, tapping a finger against his own pistol still holstered at his waist. Arla didn't respond, but pointedly crossed her arms, her blaster remaining at her side.

"Where did you come from, ad'ika ?" Jango asked, either not needing the reminder to be kind or learning from Arla's scolding.

Obi-wan didn't answer, and the look on his face was not kind.

"I didn't say he was that forthcoming," Jaster murmured, amused. Jango shrugged.

"So what is this about?" Arla asked, still snippy. Jaster wished his kids would take off their buy'ce but didn't want to make an order of it.

Obi-wan answered before Jaster this time, his voice coming out flat and cold - not sounding like a child at all, save for the higher pitch.

"I want you to leave."

"Without even asking nicely first, little boy?" Arla mocked, making the extra effort to insult him in Basic. "Such bad manners."

Jaster, furious, opened his mouth to - he wasn't even sure, yell at her for such a ridiculous, childish display that seemed designed to scare off their only lead? - But once again, Obi-wan spoke first.

"No worse than yours. And I wasn't hired to kill you ."

That shut Arla up, though whether it was shock or shame Jaster couldn't tell, not without seeing her face. And he wasn't interested in hearing more.

"Arla," he growled, making absolutely no attempt to hide his anger, "From now on you will speak when spoken to or not at all, understood?"

Arla stood stiff and straight, arms falling to her side. He couldn't see her face, but he didn't really care. They'd talk later.

" Lek, alor ." Came the short reply.

Jango's buy'ce tilted almost imperceptibly towards his sister before turning back to Jaster.

"Sorry," Jaster said, turning to Obi-wan.

"You don't have to apologize," Obi-wan told him, a dry note in his voice. "It's about what I've come to expect from adults."

Jaster grimaced even as he recognized that the boy was trying to be funny. Obi-wan rolled his eyes at the expression.

"I don't care," He said flatly.

"Right," Jaster muttered. "Why don't we sit, and you can explain what's going on?"

They did, making their way to a few smaller upturned stones. Obi-wan sat on the smallest one, resting his rifle in his lap. Jaster picked a spot next to him, and Jango and Arla sat roughly opposite the two of them. Obi-wan had to turn out a little to address all 3 of them, but none of them were under any illusions that Jango and Arla were strictly necessary for this conversation. It was Jaster Obi-wan was talking to, and Jaster that he needed to convince. He'd just called his kids back to avoid an incident and to avoid making Obi-wan repeat everything.

Still, Jango and Arla were attentive. Jango took off his buy'ce and set it next to him. After a second, Arla did the same, although she studiously avoided making eye contact with anyone.

Obi-wan took a deep breath to steady himself before he began to talk.

"The only group operating in this area calls itself 'The Young'. It's a group made up entirely of the children of the Melida and the Daan. I don't know what the Mandalorian age of majority is, but no one in the Young has reached Republic Standard. I'm one of the oldest members."

Jaster bit the inside of his lip to keep himself from reacting. It was hard to tell but he didn't think Obi-wan would be an adult by Mandalorian standards. 13 was, in his opinion, far too young to be considered an adult, even if it wasn't a cultural fight worth having. And even if Mandalorian children were given a different legal status at that point, in practicality they were still treated as children. They might have started learning a new craft or trade, but they still lived with their parents, were still looked after and raised by them.

But Obi-wan didn't look old enough even for that. Jaster doubted that he'd have had his verd'goten by now, and if he was the one of the oldest, then how young were the others?

If they were real, he reminded himself. If Obi-wan was telling him the truth.

Obi-wan was still talking.

"The Young formed in opposition to the on-going civil war on the planet. Children from both sides saw how senseless it was. They'd all lost someone at an early age to it. Neither side ever makes any real headway, it's always just violence and recrimination, over and over again."

"An endless cycle," Jango said. Obi-wan glanced at him.

"Yes. The reason why this war is being fought and even how long it's been going has been lost. And I'm not speaking metaphorically. They actually don't know."

Jaster frowned. "They don't?"

Obi-wan shook his head.

"Both sides had different records of course, but at some point those records were destroyed when the old capitals fell. They have a rough idea but at this point all anyone is sure of is that no one alive now was alive when the fighting started." Jaster exchanged an uncomfortable look with his kids. 

"So you can see," Obi-wan said, a trace of eagerness in his voice, leaning forward slightly as he clearly hoped he was making headway with them, "why we'd want to do something about it."

Jaster hmmmm 'd in thought.

"I can see that, yes, but children? All children?"

"Elders - Adults, I mean - they can bicker and argue over politics and procedure and unimportant details all day long. A kid sees something stupid and calls it stupid." Obi-wan said. Then the eagerness faded. "But of course, they couldn't get anyone to listen. And if they waited until they were older and someone might listen, then they'd probably just get sucked into the war machine themselves."

"So they decided to do something about it." Jaster stated. His voice came out flat and emotionless, but it was better than the bitter sigh that had tried to pass his lips.

"Yes. Little things, at first. They grew up with war so they knew more about this stuff than most kids, but they still weren't sure exactly what to do. So at first it was things like faking intel. Hiding supplies. Maybe sabotaging some weapons in the armory when no one was around." Jango looked impressed, and Jaster was tempted to scold him. It might be impressive for a group of kids, but it couldn't be more obvious that the story didn't have a happy ending.

"It didn't really get anywhere. If the Melida and the Daan even noticed that it was sabotage and not just incompetence or an accident, they just blamed the other side. If anything, they were making it worse." Obi-wan paused and bit his lip. "So they… went bigger. If the Melida were just going to blame the Daan anyway, they might as well make sure they put a real dent in the war, right?"

Jaster didn't hold back his sigh this time.

"What went wrong?" He asked bluntly.

"They tried to disable a tank. There weren't that many, relatively speaking. Only a couple left now. But they did it wrong."

"Tank wasn't supposed to fire, but did?" Jango guessed.

Obi-wan shook his head.

"No, that tank's history. It was supposed to fail when they started it up. They said they hoped it would look like mechanical failure." A pause. "It… exploded, when the soldiers started it up. I've seen the video. Killed 3, permanently wounded a fourth. There was no coming back after that." He looked down at his hands. His expression was mostly blank, but it was obvious he was trying hard not to show anything.

Jango no longer looked impressed. He looked sick.

"I think I can guess some of what came next," Jaster said, deciding to give the boy a short break. "There would be no question that it was a serious act of sabotage. And an internal investigation would eventually rule out a saboteur from the Daan."

Obi-wan nodded. "Spies aren't exactly common here. There aren't enough people to blend in with, and they don't trust defectors. So the others realized that either they were going to get caught, or their families would be blamed for what they did. So they ran. Similar incidents pushed out the kids from the Daan as well. They met up out here, or in other hiding places around the planet. Building The Young was almost easy. You trusted other kids. You didn't trust adults. Elders, we call them."

He fell silent, and for a while, no one said anything.

Jaster almost asked him how he had gotten involved. It was obvious, from his mannerisms and accent, to the way he had consistently referred to The Young as they and them , that he was a relatively recent addition to the group. But he held his tongue. That wasn't important right now. Instead, he asked:

"How have things been going for The Young since?"

Obi-wan took a moment to think about it.

"Better than you'd think, worse than we hoped. But I have enough perspective to know that what they'd hoped for was unrealistic."

"Stopping the war?" Jaster asked, and Obi-wan nodded.

"There was an assumption, when they started, one I think most children would have. That the adults wouldn't fight back. That they would never shoot to kill."

"That should be a safe assumption to make," Jaster growled, and Obi-wan gave him a wan smile.

"I think it was true, at first. Or at least, the soldiers didn't realize the kids were their enemy." His smile faded, and he was quieter when he spoke next. "They got over it. Now if stealth fails… It's a pitched battle. Same as everywhere else on the planet."

"How have you survived for so long?" Jango asked, appalled.

"We have a few advantages. We're smaller targets. We aren't afraid to retreat. The Melida and the Daan aren't willing to stop their war to deal with us, so that leaves them precious few resources to use. Especially since every time they see us, we're destroying some of those resources." A pause. "I guess they were still able to scrape some money together for a contract."

Jango made a noise somewhere between a groan and a sigh, and Jaster grimaced.

"Right," Jaster said. "Right… I…" He fell quiet, and the silence stretched as no one said anything.

"I don't know what to say," Jaster said finally. "This is a crazy story to ask us to believe. But it also doesn't really make sense as a cover story." Which wasn't entirely true. Obi-wan could still be concealing an adult in-charge, but too much of what he had said was verifiable - and more to the point, Jaster didn't think he was lying.

"Do the Melida and the Daan know you're all adiik - I mean, children?" Jango asked.

Obi-wan considered it for a moment, and then he shrugged.

"They probably assume there's an Elder or two in charge. But they'd have too much security footage and too many eyewitness accounts not to realize that we're all kids, at least the ones coming into the cities."

"Why wouldn't they say-" Jango started, before cutting himself off with a disgusted scoff. "No, I guess that's obvious."

Obi-wan shrugged again. He had that blank expression on his face again, the one that made it obvious he was hiding his feelings, but gave no hint as to what they actually were.

"So… what do we do?" Jango asked, turning to Jaster.

Jaster didn't look back at him, instead locking his gaze onto Obi-wan. The boy met his eyes and stared back.

"We need to see," Jaster said bluntly.

"No," Was Obi-wan's immediate response, equally blunt.

"We won't complete the contract if we were really hired to kill ad . But we also can't just up and leave off the word of one kid. We need proof."

The angry grimace Obi-wan gave him was completely out of place on someone so young.

"Because you don't trust me."

"Because I can't trust you."

"Well, I can't trust you . If you're lying to me and I lead you back to the others, you'll kill them."

"If I'm telling the truth you need to take me to them. You can't afford to have us as your enemies."

It was a brutal game of circular logic that they were playing, the kind that could last for hours or devolve into a fight on short notice. But Jaster was fully armed, armored, well fed and rested. And Obi-wan was a young, half-starved war orphan. Jaster could wear him down.

"Why would I come up here just to lie to you?" Obi-wan asked.

Up here, he had said. Jaster answered quickly in hopes he wouldn't notice his slip-up.

"Maybe someone knows a thing or two about the Haat Mando'ade. Maybe they think they can send a kid to make us go away."

"That's ridiculous!" Obi-wan snapped.

"More or less ridiculous than everything you've told me?" Jaster asked dryly.

Real anger flashed across Obi-wan's face now. He glared, his hands shifted on his rifle, he leaned forward as if he was going to stand up - and then, as abruptly as it had appeared, it vanished. Out of the corner of his eye Jaster could see Arla's hand moving away from her blaster.

Obi-wan closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again, he had that unsettling blank expression again.

"I've gotten too many of them killed already," he said quietly. "I can't bring worse down on them."

"But you also," Jaster replied, equally quiet now, "can't pass up the real help they need."

And there it was. The offer. Out in the open, sitting between them. Not just we'll leave , but we'll help . Because Jaster had already decided that if even half of what Obi-wan had told him was true, he couldn't leave. Couldn't turn his back on so many ad in need of help.

Obi-wan hadn't missed it, and his mask was slipping, the turmoil clear in his eyes even as he struggled to keep calm.

"You-" He started to speak, then stopped.

Jaster wasn't sure what to do now. This wasn't a diplomatic negotiation. Obi-wan was only a child. Should he push? Pull back?

Obi-wan spoke before he'd made up his mind.

"I… I don't… know. I need to think. Need to- to talk with the others." He bit his lip and looked away, and Jaster knew that was a lie.

"Ok," He said simply. Obi-wan looked back at him, cautious.

"Ok?" He repeated tentatively.

"You know where we'll be. We can give you some time."

Obi-wan seemed wary, but he stood up. Jaster mirrored him.

"I… ok." Obi-wan said, uncertain. On an impulse, Jaster reached out and rested a hand on the boy's shoulder. Obi-wan flinched, but didn't immediately pull away or shake it off.

"We aren't your enemy, Obi-wan. I hope you can believe that."

Obi-wan shook the hand off and stepped back, and after a quick glance over at Jango and Arla, started to walk away. Jaster gave a discreet hand gesture for Jango and Arla to stay put, before crossing his arms as he watched Obi-wan walk towards the city.

Then the boy stopped, and turned to look back at him.

"I hope you're not my enemy either." And then he turned back and broke into a jog, quickly disappearing into the maze of ruined buildings.

Jango and Arla stood and moved to stand aside Jaster.

"Should we follow him?" Jango asked, and Jaster shook his head.

"No. I don't think he's heading back to his friends anyway, and besides, he'd be expecting us to try. This situation is delicate enough. Let's not make it worse."

"You don't think he's going back?" Arla asked.

"I don't think he told them he was coming, or at least that he was planning to talk to us. Maybe he volunteered to scout but…"

"He's new," Jango agreed. "Relatively, at least. And I don't think he's from here."

"Pretty sure he was hiding a Core World accent," Arla said. "And he might be human or near-human, but he doesn't look like anyone else I've seen on the planet."

Jaster hummed in thought.

"Interesting, but questions for later. Let's go back to the ship for now. One upside of waiting on an informant is we get to do it warm."

Jango looked in the direction Obi-wan had disappeared with a frown.

"Maybe set some food aside for the kid. He's skin and bones."

Jaster turned to him and grimaced. "We'll feed him if we get the chance. Now come on - better relax while we can. I get the feeling it'll be our last chance for a while."

Chapter Text

" Buir , I-" Arla started as they walked up the ramp to the ship. Jaster held up a hand, and she fell silent immediately.

They continued into the ship in silence, making their way to the small kitchen in the hull. Jango, keenly aware that he was not the one in trouble, made his way over to the small refrigeration unit and pulled out a snack. Jaster turned to face Arla, who took a seat at the small table.

"I just want to know," Jaster growled, "what you were thinking ?"

"I wasn't," Arla said, giving the only obvious answer. "It was stupid."

"Both statements I assume to be true. It doesn't really answer my question. Is that how you treat all your informants?" Arla muttered something about not being good with kids, and Jaster gave vent to an exasperated sigh. "There's not being good with kids, Arl'ika, and there's going out of your way to insult a child soldier who's trying to help us!"

He knew she hated it when he called her Arl'ika, but she'd have to stop giving him reasons if she wanted to stop hearing it.

Arla looked down at her hands, ashamed.

"I've half a mind to leave you here when he comes back," Jaster grumbled, walking over to a cabinet and pulling out a ration bar.

"You think he will?" Jango asked.

Jaster paused before taking a bite. "Yeah. He has to. I'd say it's more likely he comes back to lead us into a trap than him not coming back at all." He took off more than half of the bar in a single bite, chewing it moodily.

Jango was quiet for a moment, thinking, before he asked;

"You said you didn't think he'd asked his friends about us?"

Jaster nodded, then swallowed. "He might've told them he was coming up here, but I don't think he told him he meant to talk to us."

"There's no way they wouldn't have heard us moving the rubble down there." Arla pointed out.

Jango looked confused for a moment, before he understood. "Oh, right - he did say - so they're down in the sewers?"

"Unless there's somewhere else below the city," Arla confirmed.

"The real question is whether he's going back to tell them what happened between us or not."

"Guess that depends on 'them'," Jango mused. "And him. And any other number of factors we aren't aware of."

"Welcome to Bounty Hunting," Jaster said with a snort, before stuffing the rest of the ration bar into his mouth and making his way out of the kitchen. Behind him, he heard Arla saying "It's not always this much of a mess…"

7 Years Prior

Jaster picked his way through the rocks and bushes carefully. The stream had a small, flat bank, but getting to it through the mountainous terrain was a little tricky. Montross followed behind him, placing his feet where Jaster's had been. It was a simple system they'd come up with shortly after being dropped on the planet. Jaster, as the heavier of the two of them, was more likely to displace stones or have a rock give out from under him. Ideally, anything that could hold his weight would also be able to hold his friend’s, provided they didn't step on anything at the same time. They had yet to be proven wrong, although he wasn't looking forward to when they would be.

With a short hop, he was finally free of the mountain path, landing on the bank of the stream.

"I'll never take stairs for granted again," he grumbled, pulling his buy'ce off and shaking his head, hair almost dripping with sweat.

"I know the sound of our packs would carry." Montross said from behind him. " Osik, I wish there was another option. Especially with this blasted heat." Then he, too, made the short hop to the even ground.

"Suppose a pleasant planet wouldn't make for a great prison." Jaster grunted, taking off his jetpack.

"Or hiding place," Montross agreed. "Harder to hide if there's other people on the planet who want to be here." He eyed Jaster as he placed his buy'ce on top of a nearby rock, and propped his jetpack up against it. "You sure we have time for that?"

"I'm sure I need it. Come on, if I'm going to you might as well."

Montross shrugged, and pulled his own buy'ce off as Jaster cupped his hands in the stream before pouring the cool mountain water over his head.

"You're sure he's here?" He asked, giving his head another shake.

"I'm sure he was," Montross replied snidely. "Whether he still will be by the time we get down there is anyone's guess." Jaster grunted. "Who knows what year it'll be." Montross continued.

"Do we seriously need to have this debate again?" Jaster growled. 

"You're being too cautious," Montross replied immediately, apparently quite eager to have this debate again.

"If we charge in guns blazing, they'll either kill Jango right away or have a gun to his head by the time we reach him. So we sneak in, secure him first, then call in the cavalry."

"Or we get caught and killed on the way in," Montross retorted.

"You planning on tripping an alarm?"

"I'm just not eager to die for some brat."

"Neither am I," Jaster replied with an air of finality. He knew Montross wasn't fond of Jango. Why, he couldn't guess. It almost seemed like jealousy, although he wasn't willing to believe something quite so ridiculous as his best friend being jealous of his 14-year old.

Montross, however, didn't seem prepared to drop the topic yet.

"It's a stupid risk, to come here yourself."

"He's my ad ," Jaster said shortly, trying not to get too angry. This was neither the time nor the place for this conversation.

"You've only had him for a year. And his verd'goten already passed. Adopting him was a waste of time.”

" Adiik don't magically grow 2 feet and a full beard when they go through their verd'goten , Montross. You know that. He's still a child. He needs a parent."

"And the people need a Mand'alor . Do they get one with you doting on some boy every waking hour?"

"I should think my people would be happy to see me following our most important tenets, if their concerns about my family are really that important to you."

"I should think-"

"I don't really care what you think about it!" Jaster snapped, unable to help himself and rounding on him. "You volunteered for this mission, in case you forgot! I didn't demand anyone come along. I am going to do my duty as Mand'alor , and my duty as a buir . I will not sacrifice one for the other!"

"We cannot abide split loyalties. If you were so determined to look after runts, then you should've abdicated."

"You're absurd," Jaster said dismissively, giving up on the conversation and turning away. "I don't know what's gotten into you lately Mon, but you need to clear your head and focus on the mission."

"Oh to hell with you!" Something in his voice had changed. It had become something vicious, an animal's snarl unlike anything he had ever heard. But he didn't have time to process it as something hit him in the lower back and drove the breath from his lungs.

A blaster bolt. A high-powered, armor piercing blaster bolt from the rifle Montross had always favored.

Jaster struggled to process this turn of events as he fell to the ground, half-landing in the stream, his right arm outstretched in front of him, as if he'd had a mind to catch himself, his left at his side.

"You just don't get it, do you!?" Jaster's mind was whirling as Mon spoke. Montross had shot him. He... Montross was planning to kill him. "You just can't see that it's not about you. Not about your damn ad ," he snarled, seeming to Jaster's ears to be a thousand miles away, even as the crunching of his boots came closer along the stream.

"You could've been great. We could've been great!" He was almost even with him now. Jaster's left hand twitched, still able to move. “Instead I’ll be what you should have been! The monster they fear! The Republic’s nightmare! I’ll throw the cowards and traitors and any other weak dar’manda scum out of our borders to rot! Kyr’stad may be fools, but at least they understand-”

Jaster never got to hear what came next, as the moment Montross' feet came level with his head, he forced his body to move, drawing his left-side blaster and pushing himself with his right hand. Montross was holding his rifle lazily, the barrel not even pointing towards Jaster. His eyes widened and he began to turn-

But he was too slow.

A single blaster shot rang out amongst the mountains.

The blaster wasn't so powerful that it threw Montross backwards. Instead, his body swayed for a moment, before toppling forward and landing in the stream.

Jaster sagged, pain lancing up from his lower back, and he could taste blood in his mouth. Montross might've missed his spine but he'd definitely done real damage.

Montross' eyes were glassy, his expression forever locked into one of a startled surprise. The black burn mark from Jaster's weapon rested in the middle of his brow.

His best friend was dead. By his hand.

Jaster had known exactly what he would do. Where he would be standing, how his body would be angled. Why hadn't Montross known what he would do?

Why had he done this?

But he didn't have time right now. He had to call for extraction, had to order forces to move against the Kyr'stad base…if it was even there. If this wasn't a huge trap.

Dammit. Dammit.

"Damn you," he rasped, staring at Montross' corpse. "Damn you. Dammit." He groaned. He would not die here. He would not give the bastard that, at the very least. Even if it was all a trap, even if his ad was already dead, he could deny Montross this. He would live just to spite him.

He forced his arms to move so he could press a button on his wrist comm, and waited for it to connect to the ship in orbit.

Present Day

Jaster opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of his quarters on The Legacy . The scar on his back burned.

The baar'ur'e - the ones for the body and the ones for the mind - had never quite decided if the pain was psychological or not.

He had been lucky, all things considered. Montross had missed his spine and while the damage to his organs had been painful and slow to heal, he had recovered.

He hadn't been there, when Silas and Myles cracked the Kyr'stad base open and pulled Jango out. But he had been waiting for him. He had still been able to hold him close and tell him that everything was going to be ok, just like a buir should.

Montross hadn't understood that. Hadn't understood why Jango needed that, or why Jaster needed to give him it. And now Montross was dead.

Jaster got out of bed, the pain in his back lessening as he reached for his armor.

He wanted to trust Obi-wan. He wanted to help him. But he also needed to be sure. Trust was a necessary and dangerous thing, and Jaster didn't know if he could ever be the man to give trust first again. But that didn't mean he would turn away either.

He would do his duty as Mand'alor , and as a Mandalorian. He may not yet be sure who his enemy was, but he would face them. And he would protect the helpless that needed protecting. With that thought firmly in his mind, he geared up.

He paused outside their little kitchen area as he heard his children conversing.

"I'm just saying," Arla was speaking. "I don't know why you're both so eager to dive headfirst into this mess."

"That's cold, vod ," Jango said. "They're kids. They need help."

"Sure, but have you thought about how you'd help them? What you would do? This is a whole planet-wide war. How much of a difference can you make?"

"It's not like there's much of the planet left," Jango retorted, and Jaster could picture him rolling his eyes. "And besides, we can always call in backup. Or have you forgotten who buir is?"

"I haven't, but I'm worried you have. He can't fire a shot on this planet without declaring war. And what's the galaxy gonna think when Mandalore jumps into a civil war with seemingly no provocation?"

"We have provocation!" Jango exclaimed, and Jaster decided it was a good time to step in.

"No, we don't," he cut in, leaning against the doorframe as both of his kids' heads turned to him.

"Of course we do!" Jango insisted, clearly confused by Jaster's assertion.

Jaster shook his head. "We have every reason in the galaxy to be pissed off, ad'ika . But if that's all the motivation we need to go to war the galaxy might not be so willing to live and let live."

"Even if they accepted this one, they'd just be waiting for the next," Arla added.

"And that's not even getting into the logistical mess of what we'd do with such a broken down, useless planet," Jaster grumbled. "But we also aren't just going to leave, Arla."

Arla pursed her lips, clearly clamping down on an impulsive response.

"I get it, you know. If what he told us was anything even close to the truth then this is horrible. But what are you going to do , Jaster?"

Jango looked back and forth between them as Jaster considered his answer.

Arla pressed on.

"If you agree going to war here is the wrong call, then you need to figure out what other lines you aren't willing to cross. And if there are too many of them… wouldn't it be all the more cruel to offer help and then refuse them what they ask for?"

"It would be," Jaster agreed. "And I don't really know where I'd draw the line when it comes to what I'd offer them. But I won't know what I would and wouldn't do until I meet them and get a clearer idea of what's happened here. And I refuse to believe my only options are to abandon them or fail them."

It was an interesting thing, some detached part of his mind noted, that all three of them seemed to have accepted Obi-wan's story as truth. They did need proof, but even Arla, cynic as she was, was working under the assumption that the situation was as bad as the boy had claimed.

Arla shrugged and sighed. "You know I'm with you. I just hope this doesn't turn out to be a mistake. I'll be in my quarters."

Arla brushed past him as she stalked out of the room, Jaster's eyes following her as she disappeared from view. He turned back to look at Jango, the expression on his ad's face a mix of anger and confusion. He stopped Jango with a hand on his arm as he went to follow her through the door.

“What are you gonna do?” Jaster asked him softly. “Demand she care more?”

“I-” Jango started, clearly upset, before his shoulders slumped. “No. I just… she doesn’t care. How can she not care?”

“She’s not made of stone , ad’ika . She knows this is wrong. She’s just not passionate the way we are.”

“Why not?” Jango asked earnestly.

Jaster shrugged. “Who knows? People are different."

He walked over to the little table on the far side of the room, and after a moment, Jango followed him.

"Mind you," Jaster added, "It's a karking good idea to keep someone like that around. Someone has to have sense."

Jango snorted and sat down opposite him, before his expression turned morose.

"I just… I wonder if she was like this. Before… everything."

Jaster sighed.

"There's no way to know, Jan'ika. And no need to torment yourself about it. Neither of you had really been tested before you lost your parents. Children react to grief and trauma in unpredictable ways. Neither of you has had it as easy as you deserved."

"One of us had it worse," Jango muttered.

"You're not wrong." Jaster conceded. "But that doesn't mean you've had it easy, either. Your vod is doing her best, now. And her best is pretty damn good."

It was no idle praise. Arla's skills had become well known throughout the Haat'Mando'ade , already excelling on several solo bounties and developing a reputation for efficiency. Myles often said - when he was sure Jaster was in earshot, at least - that if the Mand'alor , of all people, was letting his ad go out by themselves, then they must be good .

Myles was a brat.

"I guess some of these kids might give us a run for our money, though," Jango mused. Jaster only shrugged. This wasn't a game he wanted to play, and also one he didn't really approve of, even if he wouldn't voice his thoughts. Jango would cope with his own history however he chose.

They were spared from any more attempts at conversation by the blaring of the proximity alarms.

"That didn't take long," Jango observed as Jaster sprung to his feet, and they both made their way toward the landing pad, Jaster securing his jetpack while Jango lowered the ramp.

"How long was I out?" Jaster asked.

"3, 3 and a half hours," Jango guessed as they both jogged down the ramp.

"He came back quick then," Jaster murmured, bringing up the sensor map so he could pinpoint where Obi-wan was on the other side of the piled stones. It was hard to judge the time of day on Melida/Daan, what with the constant low-hanging grey smoke or smog, but he thought it might be nighttime.

"Uh, buir ?" Jango called, and Jaster looked up to see Jango pointing toward the barricade. Jaster followed his gaze to see a small figure that had to be Obi-wan, already clambering to his feet on top of the barricade.

"How in the…" Jaster didn't finish, jamming his buy'ce on his head and activating the external speaker. "Stay there!" He called over to the boy. "I'll come get you!"

Obi-wan was yelling something back - probably something along the lines of I can do it myself - but Jaster didn't really care, taking a few steps away from Jango before taking off, managing his arc perfectly to land right next to Obi-wan.

He set down lightly, and was now close enough to see Obi-wan's blush and hear his stammering insistence that if he got up on his own, he could obviously get down on his own, and, completely ignoring him, Jaster scooped him up in his arms and took off again, calmly tuning out the many nervous exclamations of his passenger before setting down only a few feet from where he'd taken off.

He set Obi-wan down, and more for the sake of humor than anything, made a show of dusting the red-faced boy off, although he did take the opportunity to check him over for any fresh cuts. Any injury from that old stonework would need to be watched for infection.

"Welcome to the Legacy , Obi-wan!" Jango proclaimed, making absolutely no attempt to hide his massive smirk.

"I could've gotten down on my own!" Obi-wan told Jaster one more time, still red in the face, before looking at Jango. "And what kind of name is Legacy for a ship?"

Kids could say mean things when they were embarrassed, Jaster reminded himself. It was never personal.

"Well, hopefully," Jango explained, still grinning, "it's the kind of name that means I get to inherit this ship when buir retires from hunting. Unless Arla gets it. But I feel like she'd rather buy her own."

"Buir?" Obi-wan asked.

"It means 'parent'," Jaster told him. "In this case, me."

"Oh," Obi-wan muttered, more to himself than to them.

"We were just about to make some food, if you want," Jango offered innocently. Neither of them missed the way Obi-wan's eyes widened slightly at the offer, before he shook his head.

"No, thank you. I just came here to tell you-"

"Surely you can tell us whatever it is after eating?"

"Jango," Jaster reprimanded, unable to keep his amusement out of his voice. Jango ducked his head, suitably embarrassed, and Jaster turned his attention fully to Obi-wan.

"You came here to tell us?" He prompted.

Obi-wan swallowed and nodded. His rifle was hanging over his back, and his hands, now free, were clenching and unclenching themselves at his side.

"I'll take you to them," he said quietly. "But - only two of you."

"Fine," Jaster agreed immediately.

It was an easy condition to meet, likely only really meant to make Obi-wan feel like he had a little more control of the situation. Maybe they thought splitting them up would make taking them down easier, but Jaster wasn't worried. And having Arla outside as backup was probably the better tactic for them anyway.

"Do you wanna go now? Or should we wait awhile?"

Obi-wan blinked several times.

"Just… just like that? Fine?"

"Just like that." Jaster repeated, pulling off his buy'ce and smiling down at the boy. "It's fine."

Obi-wan opened his mouth, and closed it. He had clearly prepared more of a debate before coming here.

"Well… ok," he said after a moment. "It would… probably be better to wait until sunrise." He looked up at the sky and wrinkled his nose. "Or as close as this planet gets to it, anyway. The Melida tend to do more sweeps at night. I don't want the others mistaking you for one of those."

Jaster and Jango exchanged a look.

"And… what are you gonna tell them about us?" Jaster asked carefully. "When you talk to them?"

Obi-wan didn't answer at first, looking down at his shoes.

"I'll tell them the truth," He said finally, before looking up at Jaster. "At least… what I hope is the truth."

Jaster smiled and rested a hand on Obi-wan's shoulder.

"Sounds like a plan," He said softly. Then, more briskly, he added, "Right, then. What say we let Jango shove some food into you?"

Obi-wan paled slightly and tried to pull away. "No, I can-" he started, but Jaster tightened his grip a little and met the boy's gaze.

"Ob'ika," He said, not even trying to hide his parental tone. "You've already come this far. If you're going to wait, it's better to do so on a climate-controlled ship and with a full stomach than hungry on cold stone."

Obi-wan was wavering, and Jaster fixed his best 'stern buir look' to his face. The boy caved.

"Great," Jaster said, and with no further discussion, steered him toward Jango, who placed a hand on Obi-wan's other shoulder and led him up the ramp into the ship. As Jango started to ask Obi-wan how he felt about spicy foods, Jaster paused and looked over at the spot on the barricade where he'd grabbed Obi-wan, sparing a thought to wonder just how, exactly, the boy had gotten atop the stone so fast. Then he dismissed it, and followed the kids up the ramp.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan sat, feigning sleep, curled up in a corner of the small room on the Legacy that he had been shown to and told to lie down in, trying to make sense of everything that had happened.

The first and most incomprehensible thing was, of course, how kind the mercenaries were.

They were Mandalorians, or so they'd claimed. They certainly looked the part. Old, dreaded enemies of the Republic and the Jedi, that's what they were supposed to be, a dangerous warrior culture that was slowly rebuilding itself as the rest of the galaxy looked on in fear.

They hadn't, to Obi-wan's knowledge, made any aggressive movements in the time since they'd properly re-unified. He doubted that had changed in the few months he'd spent on Melida/Daan.

And he certainly hadn't heard anything about them being nice .

He remembered lying on the stone, watching the Mandalorian - Jaster - sitting out of the way monitoring something on his datapad. He remembered the way his heart had been pounding in his ears, because he had spotted the proximity sensor at practically the same time he had spotted the man and was forced to wait, as still as possible, for the bigger, stronger, more experienced and better armed mercenary to decide to end his life.

And instead the man had called him down to talk.

And then , the very first thing out of his mouth wasn't a threat or a taunt, but what seemed to be real anger over the presence of a child. It had been completely disarming. The Mandalorian seemed to have completely changed tactics, even his tone and body language turning angry - as much as Obi-wan could see through his armor - once he'd gotten a good look at Obi-wan.

And how could a man that had a reaction like that to seeing a kid in a warzone possibly be here to kill them?

So he had taken the risk. He had waited with him, and then sat with him, and told him everything he could think of that wouldn't include their current circumstances, or their whereabouts. And then the man offered to help.

It made Obi-wan want to pull out his hair, to scream, to run off to someone else, someone he trusted, and beg them to take this decision out of his hands.

Because even when he was planning and fighting with the Young or when he had been traveling with Qui-gon, he had never felt so unsure.

He didn't know these people, didn't know anything about them or their character. And he couldn’t get any read on them through the Force, as though he was being blocked somehow.

He thought it might be their armor. It was like they were in a bubble, or maybe a ship. He could tell they were there, sure, but everything about them was vague and indistinct. Trying to get a read on them was hopeless. Things got a little better when they took off their helmets, but not by much. What was off-putting silence was then replaced by static, the odd feeling coming through like snatches of conversation in a crowd, half-heard and out of context.

A better Jedi could probably have understood more.

Then again, maybe it was a good thing he couldn't rely on his Jedi training to help him here. Mandalorians historically didn't like Jedi. Nobody on this planet did anymore.

Whatever goodwill he'd earned with Nield and the others would be gone, after this. Cerasi, he hoped, would understand, but even if Nield did understand, he'd still hate it. It was why he hadn't bothered to ask them. He knew what their answer would be. Nield's fervor sometimes bordered on bloodlust when it came to his desire to win the war. He'd never want to accept outside help.

Qui-gon, Obi-wan thought a trifle sourly, had dashed any of those hopes, if Nield had ever really held them.

The decision to accept the Mandalorians' help was not one he would make with the Young. It was one he would have to make for them. He could only hope they'd understand that there wasn't really any choice at all.

Not just that they needed help - which they did, they desperately did - but that the Mandalorians would obviously have found them eventually anyway.

Sure, there was a significant difference between fighting a defensive battle and leading them into the heart of their base, but Obi-wan had seen their armor and weapons, the easy confidence with which they carried themselves, and he didn't think it mattered. The Young wouldn't survive a fight with these mercenaries. They wouldn't survive a full-on confrontation with anyone. They relied on deception and evasion, none of which would do them much good when facing determined opponents in the cramped confines of the old sewers.

It was an uncomfortable truth that he'd refused to realize until he watched the Mandalorian ship set down. They were doomed. They didn't have enough weapons to arm everyone, and the ones they did have were falling apart more and more every day. They were low on food, medicine, and their ability to purify the polluted, stagnant water couldn't hope to keep up with demand.

It had been his own fault, Obi-wan knew. Before, the Young had been a nuisance, a phantom group most of the Melida and Daan hadn't even fully believed existed. Then he came along. And he had been trained to fight, and had been taught strategy. He could use the Force to divine new sources of water and had the skills to sneak into supply depot's and make off with resources, and he had been able to teach some of the others to do the same.

It seemed like such a good idea at first. They'd been making real progress. The goal of finally pushing the tired war machine to its breaking point had seemed truly possible.

It had gotten them attention. And Obi-wan had learned just what lengths the Melida and the Daan would go to to win their war.

He bowed his head, wishing he could meditate, wishing he could sleep . But he couldn't let the Mandalorians know he was - had been - a Jedi. And he didn't think it would be wise to sleep, either. Better to be ready, if something happened. If someone from the Young came looking for him, or the Mandalorians tried something.

If they were being honest with them - if they didn't immediately start shooting the second they reached the hideout - did that mean Obi-wan could trust them? The Young wouldn't, even if they tolerated their presence, but could he ? Surely, it would prove that they really wouldn't carry out their contract, if they were unwilling to shoot children.

A new doubt curled in his mind. What if they weren't here to wipe out the Young, but were actually looking to take one of them back? One of the kids could be a child of a major player on either side, or they could even be here for him . 

But no, that made no sense. They had him on their ship right now. He'd given them his name and he would fit whatever description they had of him. They'd just leave. And what Jedi would hire a Mandalorian to come get him?

The door to his room opened. Obi-wan kept his eyes closed. He was pretty sure it was Jaster. The footfalls were heavy, and he was able to sense far more of the man's Force presence than before. It felt sturdy, with the kind of shields that came from having a disciplined mind.

The man sat down next to him.

"Can't sleep?" Jaster asked. Obi-wan hadn't really thought he was being convincing anyway.

He cracked an eye open to look at Jaster. The man was mostly out of armor, only wearing his vambraces and boots. Obi-wan didn't know if that was meant as a show of trust or of confidence. Maybe both.

"I'm trying," he mumbled, averting his gaze.

"Really?" Jaster sounded amused. "Because there's a bed right over there."

This was true. Obi-wan had barely spared it a glance before moving to the corner.

"Now, I do get it," Jaster said, voice neutral. "You can see the whole room from the corner, and curled up and on the ground as you are, our cameras can see comparatively little of you." Obi-wan was silent, not appreciating Jaster's (entirely accurate) read of his situation.

"But you realize it doesn't really matter, right?" And now there was a gentle note in his voice, as though he were trying to comfort him. "You're pretending to be asleep anyway, so you're not watching the room, and you're not doing anything you'd need to hide from the cameras. And the bed is soft."

Obi-wan supposed the man deserved a little credit for not pretending there wasn't a camera, but that did little to stem the annoyance he was feeling at the intrusion.

"If I wanted to be on the bed, I'd be on the bed," He grumbled. Jaster sighed.

"The only people who would refuse to lie down on something soft out of concern that they'd accidentally fall asleep are people who are very, very tired." He said quietly.

Obi-wan didn't answer.

"You haven't used the fresher either. There are no cameras there, if you were worried."

Obi-wan ignored him.

"Kid, I know you're not willing to trust me right now. But you look like death warmed over. You're skin and bones. The only reason we let you get away with eating as little as you did is because when someone has gone without proper nutrition for as long as you obviously have, it's not healthy to overfeed them."

"I didn't realize you were a healer." The words were petty and childish. Obi-wan regretted them immediately.

"You can't last in my business without picking up a thing or two about taking care of yourself." If Obi-wan's comment bothered Jaster, he didn't show it.

Every bite he had taken of the offered food had made him think of the others, slowly starving. What right did Obi-wan, who had been here for less time than any of them, have to such a luxury?

Jaster sighed.

"Please try and get some sleep, Obi-wan."

Obi-wan shook his head. If he fell asleep now, he didn't know how long he would sleep for. And he had a sneaking suspicion that Jaster wouldn't wake him.

There was a pause.

"Then, if you aren't going to sleep, do you want to do something else?"

Obi-wan looked up at him. "Something else?" He echoed, confused.

Jaster nodded. "We could talk. Go outside and practice. I've got a spare datapad, if there's something you want to read or someone you want to contact."

Obi-wan considered the offer. He didn't want to talk. There was too much he was keeping from the Mandalorian to just talk with him. He was curious about what had been going on in the larger galaxy while he had been here, but worried that reading might put him to sleep. He didn't bother to think about contacting someone.

"Practice?" He asked tentatively. Sitting in the corner with only his thoughts wasn't doing him any good anyway.

"Ok." Jaster said simply, getting to his feet. Obi-wan mimicked him, and Jaster led the way out of the room. Obi-wan wasn't sure what the correct classification for The Legacy was, but he was fairly sure that it was at capacity with him on board - or at least, comfortable capacity, he amended, when they stepped into the hold, which contained what was clearly a cell.

Jaster was rummaging through a box a little ways into the hold, and when he straightened up, he looked at Obi-wan, then glanced over to the cell.

"Live bounties are usually sedated during transport. Cell's mostly a precaution."

"Do you ever use Carbonite?" Obi-wan asked, his mouth working faster than his brain.

"Carbonite." Jaster gave a disgusted snort. "Dangerous, expensive, and usually counterproductive."

"How so?" Obi-wan asked. Jaster handed him a smaller box, which Obi-wan took without much thought.

"Lots of possible health risks associated with it, which doesn't really work with the whole 'live bounty' ideal. It takes too long, takes up more space than a body by itself does, and then you have to un freeze them at the end of your trip to boot." He tucked another box under his arm and gestured back the way they came, and they made their back out of the hold and toward the ramp.

"If you're ever facing the prospect of having to hold onto a bounty for so long that Carbonite seems like a good move, you've taken a bad job. Only time it ever really gets used is when someone like a Hutt wants a trophy instead of a person."

Obi-wan made a face at that, and felt strangely relieved to see a similar expression on Jaster's face and he stepped around him and hit the button to lower the ramp.

“What kind of ship is this?” Obi-wan asked as the ramp lowered, then mentally kicked himself for asking so many pointless questions.

“An HWK-350, a Corellian-make light freighter.” Jaster answered promptly. “Made some modifications to it over the years. Couple guns, and that room you were in was originally just storage space. Mostly to spec though.”

Obi-wan didn’t know what to make of that information, or why Jaster had shared it so readily. The ramp was down, so he started walking and elected to just move on.

"So what are we gonna do?" Obi-wan asked as they exited the ship.

"Just target practice. I haven't actually seen you shoot yet."

The box Obi-wan was carrying turned out to contain flimsi targets that could be pasted on the rocks forming the barricade, while Jaster's contained a set of practice blasters. He showed Obi-wan how to activate the blaster and manipulate its setting to emulate different levels of firepower.

"Is there much recoil on your rifle?" Jaster asked.

"No, but there is on a few of the others we have. I think it's more to do with their age, though."

Jaster frowned. "If the recoil isn't intended then that's dangerous. Those guns might blow up in your faces."

Obi-wan frowned back. "They were like that when we got them."

"Is everything on this planet falling apart?" Jaster muttered, looking up at the smoke-covered sky.

"Pretty much," Obi-wan answered with a sigh.

Jaster looked back down at him. "Do you really think they can find peace?" He asked, holding out Obi-wan's adjusted training blaster.

Obi-wan didn't answer, and he didn't ask which ‘they’ Jaster was talking about, just accepting the offered blaster and walking up to the line Jaster had drawn in the dirt. Jaster joined him, not pushing the issue.

They practiced for the next couple of hours, Jaster quietly correcting his technique and giving him tips as they ran through different exercises. At the end, Obi-wan was tired but quite pleased with himself. He may never have wanted to use a blaster, but he still felt the pleasure that came with improving any skill. And working out here with Jaster felt almost normal, like he was practicing for his next practical exam back at the Temple.

"Not bad, not bad at all." Jaster told him, as he walked back with the flimsi targets, now peppered with black scorch marks.

The praise meant more than it should, and Obi-wan couldn't help the pleased grin that found its way onto his face.

"Did you have formal training?" Jaster asked, and Obi-wan shook his head.

"No, I learned some theory about it, but never fired one before coming here. I spent more time practicing against blasters."

It slipped out without thinking. Jaster blinked, and Obi-wan wanted to bang his head against the side of The Legacy .

"What were you learning that you practiced against blasters, but not with them?" Jaster asked, confused. He didn't seem angry, and Obi-wan supposed that Mandalorian children would also practice with weapons, if these training blasters were any indication.

"Um… I was learning stealth!" Was the first thing that came out of mouth, and he cringed at how ridiculous it sounded.

Jaster arched an eyebrow at him and said nothing.

"I am pretty sneaky," Obi-wan defended lamely.

"I suppose you are, but you're crap at coming up with lies on the spot," Jaster observed.

"Usually I'm pretty good at it," Obi-wan mumbled, and Jaster let out a bark of laughter, walking over and slinging an arm over shoulders.

"Come on, ad'ika . I can't make you sleep, or talk, but I am going to make you eat."

Obi-wan allowed himself to be pulled along without resistance, ducking his head to hide his smile.

He really, really hoped Jaster wouldn't turn out to be his enemy.

Chapter Text

Jaster kept pace just a few feet behind Obi-wan, his buy'ce tucked under his arm. Jango walked to the right and a few steps behind him, bucket on as he kept his head on a slow swivel, making sure they didn't have any uninvited guests. Obi-wan kept moving forward, head down and shoulders hunched, clearly unhappy. Jaster wanted to offer some comfort, to reassure the boy that this wasn't a betrayal of his friends, but he knew it wouldn't help, so he held his tongue.

After about 20 minutes of walking, Obi-wan came to a stop. Jango looked around, trying to spot the entrance. Obi-wan glanced back at Jaster before making his way over to an inconspicuous pile of rubble and grabbing one of the large stones.

Jaster immediately clipped his buy'ce to his belt and moved to help, taking most of the weight of the stone as Obi-wan seemed to struggle.

It was a long, flat piece that Jaster could now tell had been deliberately covered with other small rocks and chalk so it wouldn't stand out. Underneath the stone was a sewer grate. None of the other rocks actually rested on the grate, so while it would need to be pulled back rather than lifted straight up, it was accessible. Definitely, though, not intended for adults to squeeze through.

"You're stronger than you look," Jango commented, inspecting the stone after Jaster dropped it.

Obi-wan shrugged self-consciously.

"We'll have to move the rest of these rocks for Jango and I to fit," Jaster said. "We won't be able to cover it back up."

Obi-wan bit his lip, but nodded. "It… probably won't matter," The boy said. "It's just a precaution."

Jango stepped up beside Jaster to move the pile of rocks. Obi-wan made as if to help, but Jaster stopped him with a look.

"How did you cover it back up when you went down before?" Jango asked curiously. Jaster glanced over at the boy, who visibly hesitated before answering.

"I… didn't, usually. I would come up this way and cover it back up, then when it was time to head back, I took a different entrance. There was usually a closer one to wherever my… objective was."

That didn't make sense, Jaster noted quietly, and he could tell from Jango's body language that his son had noticed that too, but had the good sense not to follow-up on it. Now was not the time to push Obi-wan on his secrets.

They finished clearing the rubble and Jaster removed the grate, gesturing for the boys to go ahead of him. They did, climbing down the ladder into the darkness of the sewers, and Jaster followed. He had to take his buy'ce off his belt and put it on in order to fit, but he managed, carefully sliding the grate back in place before heading down to join the others.

"Ugh, even through my bucket that smells awful," Jango grumbled as Jaster stepped onto the stone walkway. No water ran through the sewers, the stone walkway bordering a dried out tunnel that looked, even in his buy'ce's night vision, vaguely brown. Jaster resolved never to step off the walkway if he could help it.

"You adjust," Obi-wan said with a shrug. Jango looked at him, and Jaster could clearly imagine the narrowed gaze he was fixing Obi-wan with.

"I don't remember thinking that you smelled particularly bad."

And then, to their amazement, Obi-wan immediately produced what had to be an air freshener from inside his clothes.

"I have 3 of them," he said blandly, before returning the air freshener back inside his ragged jacket. "I don't like to smell either, and it's not like they serve any other purpose."

Jaster snorted and reached up to turn his helmet light on. Given his buy'ce's night vision, this was more for Obi-wan's sake than his, but Jango copied him.

"Lead the way," Jaster said, gesturing vaguely ahead of them, and Obi-wan did.

They made their way across the cracked stone, and Jaster realized that Obi-wan really didn't need the light from their buy'ce's to navigate what was clearly a well-trodden route. He wondered if this was a path only Obi-wan took, or if the rest of The Young made use of it.

As they made their silent trek through the tunnels, Obi-wan took almost every turn they came across. While Jaster knew some of them might have been necessary to get around cave-ins or other obstructions, he assumed that Obi-wan was trying to get them lost. It didn’t even seem like a conscious choice. Rather, it seemed that he was obfuscating the location of the Young’s hideout out of pure habit.

The program running in Jaster and Jango's buckets that was mapping out their path rendered it mostly useless, but the ad didn't need to know that.

Finally, they rounded a corner and Obi-wan came to a stop. There was nothing in this stretch of sewer, but Jaster could hear the shaky breaths he was taking.

Almost involuntarily, he took a step forward and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. Obi-wan didn't look at him, and shrugged it off almost immediately. He did, however, resume walking. Jaster flashed the hand sign for slow to Jango, and they allowed Obi-wan to round the corner ahead by himself.

Jaster could hear a flurry of movement, and what sounded like something metal being dropped.

"Obi-wan!"

"You're ok!"

The voices of what were presumably lookouts or door guards were entirely too young.

"Yeah," Obi-wan said, with only the faintest hint of his nerves audible in his voice. "I'm - I'm fine. I, uh…" He looked over his shoulder toward Jaster, who took that as his queue.

He stepped out around the corner and moved to stand slightly behind and to the right of Obi-wan, Jango mirroring him on the boy's left.

There wasn't an actual door, just a hole in the wall that presumably opened onto a larger space. It was impossible to tell if the hole had been made intentionally or if The Young were just taking advantage of it.

The two adiik , both of whom had to be 10 years old at best , scrambled to bring their weapons up to aim at them.

"Jud, Tal, stop!" Obi-wan said hurriedly. Jango held up his hands, empty palms facing the terrified looking children. Jaster copied him.

The boys looked back and forth from Obi-wan to the Armored Mandalorians behind him.

"What's going on?"

"Who are they?"

The boys spoke over each other in their haste, but Jaster barely heard them. His eyes were fixed on the too-big rifles held in each boy's hand, the way they shook, the cloths wrapped around their hands. Some numbed over part of mind pieced together that the rifles probably overheated.

"They're… they're from off-world." Obi-wan said haltingly. "I'm bringing them to see Cerasi and Nield."

Obi-wan was doing an admirable job hiding his nerves and his fear, Jaster thought. The lookouts didn't even notice the fine tremors wracking his body.

The 2 boys exchanged looks.

"They're Elders." One said.

"And they're armed." The other said.

"I know. But they're not bad guys."

"They're Elders ," the first repeated, more fervently.

Obi-wan hesitated, and to Jaster's surprise, Jango reached up and removed his buy'ce .

"Not too old," His ad said with a grin. Clean-shaven as he was, Jango could probably pass for a teenager, albeit an older one.

"And we're not here to cause trouble." Jango continued, doing his best to look and sound reassuring. "We want to help."

The lookouts' expressions were, to be generous, doubtful, but they seemed marginally more relaxed as their eyes swiveled back to Obi-wan.

"You sure?" The second one asked.

"As sure as I can be," Obi-wan answered honestly.

The lookouts exchanged another look.

Jaster wanted to suggest that the leaders came out to speak to them first, but he knew he couldn't. He had to see the state of things for himself.

"Ok…" one of the kids said, looking deeply skeptical, but they stood aside and let them pass. Jango kept his buy'ce off, evidently hoping he looked young enough that his presence wouldn't be too upsetting. Jaster kept his on, knowing he would look intimidating in his armor, but the lack of visible features might keep his age from being top of mind.

Both he and Jango had to duck to fit through the entrance, but were able to stand up straight as they entered the large, cavern-like space that was The Young's headquarters. And Jaster's heart sank.

Adiik , everywhere. Makeshift tents and other shelters, fire burning in dug out pits, trash and filth all over the place. The children were all dressed in dirty rags hanging off of their thin frames. They were pale and gaunt, and the obvious shock and terror they had at seeing the Mandalorians burned .

Obi-wan had been telling the truth. The people of this planet had gone to war against their own children.

And he couldn't help but think that that meant that they weren't really people anymore.

He fought his rage, silently grappling with it as his conscious mind asserted that he needed to be calm, needed to be kind to these children first. His anger would have to wait.

He did his best to ignore the way the children all fled, gathering up in groups at the edges of the cave, slowly moving parallel to them as they watched in wide-eyed silence. It was a task made easier by his buy'ce , and it was obvious Jango was struggling with it a great deal more, unable to hide his horror at what they saw despite his best efforts.

They reached their destination, a small wooden platform, Jaster barely registering the walk there as he struggled with his emotions. On it stood a human boy and girl, both of whom looked to be a bit older than Obi-wan. Based on what Obi-wan had said earlier, Jaster guessed that these must be Cerasi and Nield.

Nield had pale skin and looked to be halfway through his adolescent growth spurt, with gangly limbs and a head of messy brown hair that looked like it hadn't been washed in weeks. He stood close to a head taller than the girl, in a jacket at least 2 sizes too big for him, wearing black gloves over hands that were currently curled into fists. A pistol hung off his belt, and his boots looked military grade.

Cerasi was cleaner by comparison, but not by much. She too had pale skin, likely a result of living underground along with the perpetually overcast sky. She had red hair that almost reached her shoulders, and her clothing was simple, a long-sleeved shirt and pants. No jacket or gloves, but she also had what looked to be military boots, and like Nield, was carrying a pistol. Jaster also counted two knives that he could see, and guessed that there were plenty of others he couldn't. Nield presumably had more weapons on his person as well, concealed by his jacket.

All told, they looked the part of young rebellion leaders so convincingly that they could've walked out of a holo-drama, if it weren't for their age. No drama would actually cast children this young for a story this grim.

Cerasi looked hurt and confused at their presence. Nield looked furious .

"Obi-wan," he hissed, glaring down at the redhead. "What have you done!? "

Obi-wan clearly forced himself to stand up straight and look at him.

"I'm trying to help, Nield. Just hear them out-"

"Hear them out!?" Nield shouted, his voice echoing around the cavern. "Elders, you brought Elders into the heart of our headquarters, and you tell me to hear them out!?"

"If all they wanted was to kill us," Obi-wan called back, his voice wavering just a little as he made sure he matched Nield in volume, so that everyone could hear them both. "Then they would already be killing us, and you wouldn't have a chance to yell at me."

Jaster watched the exchange carefully, waiting for the right opportunity to chime in.

"I don't think Obi-wan would bring people here who'd want to hurt us." Cerasi chimed in cautiously.

"Maybe he doesn't think they would hurt us," Nield said contemptuously. "But he's an outsider." Obi-wan badly concealed a flinch, but Nield either didn't notice or didn't care, as he continued speaking. "Maybe he still hasn't learned that Elders can't be trusted!"

There was a murmur of assent from the surrounding Young.

"They're outsiders too," Obi-wan replied, "So I know more about them than you do."

It was a decent comeback, one Nield didn't have an answer ready for, which gave Cerasi a chance to chime in again.

"They're here now, and it's too late to change that. If they have something to say, we should listen." When Nield made to object, she added, "Elders refuse to listen to anybody. And we're not like them."

Nield closed his mouth, glaring at her almost as fiercely as he'd been glaring at Obi-wan, and Jaster took his opening.

He stepped forward and carefully telegraphed taking off his buy'ce , making sure no one thought he was going for a weapon.

"My name is Jaster Mereel," He said calmly. Like the others, he made sure his voice carried so that everyone could hear him. "I'm a Mandalorian Bounty Hunter, and I want to help you."

The term Mandalorian didn't seem to mean anything to either Cerasi or Nield.

"Why are you here, if you're a bounty hunter?" Nield demanded, clearly suspicious.

"My children and I," Jaster waved a hand to indicate Jango without taking his eyes off of Nield, "were offered a job to fight an insurgent group on this planet by the Melida. A job sanctioned by the Daan."

That started up another round of murmuring from the watching crowd, clearly anxious and upset over what Jaster had said. Nield narrowed his eyes, but it was Cerasi who responded.

"But?" She asked simply, making a valiant effort to conceal her own nerves.

"But they didn't tell me who comprised this insurgent group." Jaster explained. "No True Mandalorian would ever hurt a child. It goes against the most central and sacred part of the Creed we all live by." There was near silence following that pronouncement, but Jaster wasn't surprised. Given the hell these children were currently living through, such an idea was probably completely alien to them.

"What is happening on this planet, to all of you, is among the worst crimes I have ever seen committed." Jaster continued. "And the bastards who are hurting you have now tried to trick me and mine into helping them do it. I aim to make that their last mistake."

That set off yet another round of murmurs, which only increased as Jaster took another step forward and sank to one knee.

It was not a position typically used by Mandalorians - really only for swearing the Resol'nare , and even then it was not required - but it was a posture that he trusted the children here would recognize.

"I swear that I will lend you my aid in whatever way you see fit. I will be sword and shield against your enemies, and do everything within my power to see you all safe."

The murmuring grew in volume, clearly excited.

Cerasi looked hopeful, while Nield was clearly grappling with his emotions, knowing that he couldn't just outright reject Jaster now.

After an apparent silent internal battle, Nield jerked his head in acknowledgement and walked away. Cerasi indicated they should follow, and Jaster let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

The first part was over.

Now it got worse.

Chapter Text

"I don't suppose we can use that oath of yours to just make you leave?" Nield growled as they all crowded into what Jaster guessed passed for their command station.

Nield and Cerasi took what seemed to be their familiar seats, and after a moment's hesitation, so did Obi-wan, staring down at his hands and looking like he wanted to be anywhere but here. He hadn't even wanted to come along in the first place, but Jaster had placed a hand on his back and Obi-wan had allowed himself to be guided along after The Young's leaders.

After a brief conversation with Jango, his ad had stayed back to properly introduce himself to the rest of the adiik and familiarize himself with their situation. There was some information that could only be obtained from their leaders, but also plenty that could be learned from talking to other adiik , who may not realize they were sharing important information.

"That wouldn't be very helpful," Jaster answered dryly. "And my oath was to help." With nowhere for him to sit, he elected to just take the floor, drawing one knee back. His back was to the entrance, which itched at him, but he could see all three of them this way. Besides, he might not be a childcare expert, but he didn't think making himself appear smaller in this situation would hurt.

"Obi-wan," Cerasi said quietly. The red-head looked up at her with obvious trepidation. "Can you tell us how this happened? No one's seen you since you went to investigate."

Obi-wan shot a look at Jaster, who motioned for him to speak. He knew the boy would prefer him to speak, but Cerasi and Nield didn't want to hear from him.

"I got caught," Obi-wan answered honestly. "Almost immediately. But they didn't hurt me."

" You got caught?" Nield asked, tone somewhere between accusation, mockery, and genuine shock.

"His camouflage was good," Jaster said. "I never would've actually seen him. But he tripped some proximity sensors I had hidden around our ship."

Obi-wan nodded. "I saw one at the same time I saw him. I thought I was dead."

Jaster couldn't help frowning at that.

"I wouldn't have hurt you," He said, squashing the reminder that he hadn't been able to tell how young Obi-wan was from a distance.

"But how does that lead here?" Cerasi asked. "Why did you bring them down here?"

"Because… because when Jaster saw how young I was, he got mad." Obi-wan explained. Jaster looked at him in mild surprise, and Obi-wan continued. "I mean, genuinely mad that I was a kid. It can be kind of hard for me to… read them, with the armor on, but he was. And that didn't make sense. How could he be here to hurt us if he was surprised at my age?"

Both Cerasi and Nield thought about that, apparently taking Obi-wan's assertion as fact, and Jaster added another item to the growing list of mysterious things Obi-wan had said and done, before filing that away for later examination.

"You're serious about helping us?" Cerasi asked him, sounding doubtful.

Jaster nodded.

"I am. I can't blame you for not trusting that, not after what you've been through. If there's a way for me to prove it, I'll be glad to. What these people have done to you is the worst kind of transgression against what I believe in that I can imagine. I'd want to help even if they hadn't already involved me in it."

"We don't need help," Nield grumbled.

"Yes we do!" Obi-wan replied sharply, actually looking at Nield for the first time since he'd sat down. "Can you really look outside and say we don't?" Nield shifted uncomfortably, and Obi-wan pressed his advantage. "They have food, water, medical supplies! I know you want to be independent, but we can't let anyone die for that! Not when we have another option."

Cerasi was nodding slowly, while Nield, arms crossed, stubbornly stared at the wall. Jaster could tell that Obi-wan had won.

"We're also trained fighters," Jaster offered. "I doubt that we could join you on any covert operations - we're too big, especially in our armor, to go along with you all. But we can help you train. We have spare weapons back on our ship that would be higher quality than what you're using. And - well, we have a ship, and there are three of us. One of us could go off-world for supplies while the other two could stay here. Or if there's anyone that needs medical attention urgently enough they need a med-evac, we could take them to a doctor."

Jaster wanted to do a hell of a lot more than just provide support, but knew that for now, he would need to offer help these adiik would actually accept, and build up to the offer he really wanted to make. There was a reason he hadn't revealed the extent of his identity yet; he had pledged himself to help, and he didn't want them asking for too much too soon.

They were all silent for a while, thinking that over.

"So," Cerasi began tentatively, glancing over at Nield, "what happens next?"

Jaster considered his words carefully.

"Ideally, I'd like a tactical overview of your current supplies, objectives, and forces. But," He said, cutting Nield off before the boy could protest, "I don't expect you to give me that. I haven't earned it yet. So instead, I'd like a walk around to get a sense of what you need."

The kids all looked a little confused at that, so he explained.

"I don't think it's a good idea for me to wander around unaccompanied. Your concerns about me aside, I'm likely to scare a lot of the kids."

He didn't like that fact, hated it really, but it was true. Most of the kids here would be terrified of any adult, let alone one armed and armored.

"When I take stock of how things are here, I can return to my ship, grab what we can spare, and plan out where to go for supplies."

"'Plan out?'" Nield repeated. "Why do you need to plan that out?"

"Depends on what you need and how fast you need it," Jaster explained. "If you're about to starve, we can raid the nearest city and grab what we can. If you can hold out a while longer, we can go to a nearby planet or space station and stock up on better rations."

There was another moment of silence that ended with Nield once again glaring at Obi-wan.

"Obi-wan can take you," Nield said, his tone of voice making it clear that this was rebuke.

"Nield-" Cerasi began, but when Nield turned narrowed eyes to her, she fell silent, instead just giving Obi-wan an apologetic look as the boy got to his feet. Jaster got to his feet as well and followed Obi-wan out of the room.

Their little command post was a ways away from the main group of shelters, and had small walls made of wood and other scrap making a path from the raised platform they had talked at earlier to the building. The walls wouldn't be much use defensively, but they hid them from view, a fact Jaster took advantage of as soon as he heard the door close behind them.

"Hey," he said quietly, reaching out and catching Obi-wan's arm. The boy attempted to shake his grip off, but Jaster ignored it and turned him around so they were face to face, before dropping down to one knee and pulling the boy into a hug.

Obi-wan was stiff at first, but then wrapped his arms around Jasters neck. He didn't cry, but he shook slightly, and Jaster rubbed his back soothingly.

"He hates me," Obi-wan said, voice muffled by Jaster's armor.

"No he doesn't," Jaster reassured the boy, continuing to rub comforting circles on his back. "You made a hard choice, and he got angry. But he won't be angry forever." After a pause, Jaster added, "you did the right thing, Obi-wan. We'll prove that together. I promise."

Obi-wan sniffed but pulled back, rubbing at his eyes.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "Now - come on. I'll show you around."

So off they went, sticking to the edges of the cave as Obi-wan quietly explained their current circumstances.

The area they were in had apparently started as a crater from a dropped shell, though no one knew how long ago it had been formed. The roof, apparently, was the result of a patch job at the time, before further debris was piled on top of it. Jaster was relieved to see wooden supports hammered into the walls around the ceiling.

"We came across a lumber cache in this city," Obi-wan explained. "Or maybe it was just an old mill. We have no way of knowing if there used to be a forest near here. We didn't have the knowledge to build anything useful, so we used them to shore up the roof, just in case."

"They're spaced out well," Jaster asked, examining the supports critically. "Someone had a good eye for it."

Obi-wan shifted uncomfortably and looked away.

"We just… placed them where we thought it was best."

Jaster mentally translated 'we' to mean 'I' and added carpentry to Obi-wan's growing list of skills.

"Still, those supports wouldn't withstand bombing." Jaster said, squashing his curiosity for now. "And the Melida, at least, have a general grasp of your location. They sent us out here, after all."

"They don't have much left they can use to bomb us." Obi-wan pointed out. "Especially if they want to keep bombing each other. Besides… there's nowhere else to go."

Jaster hummed in agreement and let the matter drop, so they continued on.

"Even though this sewer system hasn't been used in decades, it still collects water," Obi-wan explained, indicating a small puddle where one of the children was running what Jaster guessed was a purifier. "After all, there are still grates up top, so the water still flows down here when it rains. But you saw those tunnels. They're filthy."

"So even if the water is safe to drink when it rains, which, given the state of this planet, I doubt ," Jaster growled, "It's still unsafe by the time it gets to you."

Obi-wan nodded. "Occasionally, we'll lift supplies that will include water from either side, but the only recurring source we have is down here. We have purifiers, but… it's never enough. There's always a couple kids, mostly the younger ones, who just can't help themselves."

Jaster sighed.

"Usually, they just throw it up," Obi-wan said. "But that dehydrates them even more, so we have to prioritize water rations for them, and…" he trailed off. Jaster didn't need to be told that it was a repeating cycle. So they moved on.

"Food hasn't been as much of a problem as you might think," Obi-wan said as they passed by a couple crates labeled with the Daan symbol. "I mean, nobody gets enough , but it's not that hard to make sure everyone gets something . If things get tight, we can comb over the city, looking for non-perishables. And it's easy to pick up rations when we're sneaking in anywhere, regardless of what our objective is."

Jaster eyed Obi-wan, so skinny Jaster couldn't even tell how old he was, and looked out over the other children, who were in much the same state. The knowledge that it could be worse didn't comfort him.

Finally, they reached what passed for their med-bay, and Jaster was glad he had braced himself for the sight of adiik spread out over a cloth-covered floor in various states of distress. One had an open injury, a gash on their leg, that was in the process of being bandaged by a child that couldn't be older than 9. Several were obviously ill, arms wrapped their chests as they groaned and rolled about. A couple were changing the bandages for what were obviously blaster wounds.

The feeling of helplessness here seemed to permeate the air, and Jaster couldn't help it - he looked away.

Further down, he felt a dark, murderous rage make itself known in him. The desire to murder everyone on the planet outside this cave struck him as especially appealing - but he reigned it in, forced it down. Helping the children came first. Retribution - that could come later.

A tentative hand pressed against his vambrace, and Jaster looked down at Obi-wan, who was looking up at him with obvious concern. Jaster forced a smile on his face.

"Let's talk somewhere else," He said quietly.

Jango joined them before they started speaking, sitting at one of the exits to the crater. Obi-wan had relieved the lookouts on duty so they could have some privacy.

"This," Jango declared as he sat down next to Jaster, "might just be hell."

“Just down here, or the whole planet?” Jaster grumbled.

Obi-wan was looking down at his hands, Jaster reached over and squeezed one of them. The boy looked up at him.

"It only makes what you've done here all the more impressive." He told the redhead, and Obi-wan looked back down at his hands.

"It shouldn't be like this," Obi-wan said quietly.

"No it karking shouldn't," Jango agreed emphatically, and Jaster nodded in agreement.

"Which means we should get moving as soon as we can," Jaster said.

"Cerasi and Nield will accept supplies from you, at least," Obi-wan said. "But - how much do you actually have?"

"More than you might think," Jaster explained. "We planned for a long hunt, since we didn't know how long this would take, and there's three of us, so we did stock up. I also have thoughts about how to get more."

Both Obi-wan and Jango looked at him curiously, but Jaster shook his head. "I need to know more first. For now, we need to get back to the ship, fill Arla in, take what we can and get her moving."

"Get her moving?" Obi-wan asked, confused. Jaster could see that Jango understood, however, and motioned for his ad to explain.

"To pretend to keep the hunt up," Jango said, the faintest trace of excitement in his voice. "She'll call in, say we couldn't find you, and go looking for you elsewhere."

"And divert their attention away from here," Obi-wan finished.

"And keep them from hiring someone else," Jaster growled. "I'd like nothing more then to start shooting those demagolka , but the longer it takes them to figure out what's going on, the better."

"Demagolka?" Obi-wan asked.

Jango glanced at Jaster before answering, tentatively, "It's a… really severe insult."

Jaster shook his head. "There's more to it than that," He said, amused that Jango still seemed reluctant to swear in front of him. "A long time ago, there was a scientist named Demagol, who called himself a Mandalorian. One of the worst war criminals in our history. He performed all sorts of terrible experiments on prisoners, including children. His name became an insult carried forward to this day."

Jango was watching The Young, not really listening, but Obi-wan was clearly interested, the curious expression on his face making him look younger.

"How long ago?" He asked.

"As far as I know, back to the Old Republic."

"Wow…" Then Obi-wan's expression darkened. "He must've been really bad."

Jaster nodded. "The Neo-Crusaders were a dark part of our history."

Jango cleared his throat, unsubtly cutting Jaster off.

"Glad you found someone to talk history with, buir , but we have things to do, don't we?"

Jaster scowled at him, but nodded. "You're right. We should get back to our ship."

"I can go tell Cerasi and Nield," Obi-wan said, getting to his feet.

"We'll need a guide," Jaster reminded him. "To get there and back."

Obi-wan's cheeks pinked. "Then um… I'll go tell them and… be right back."

"We’ll be here," Jaster said, smiling as Obi-wan ran off.

"Please tell me you have a plan," Jango said quietly, as they watched Obi-wan disappear into The Young's camp.

"I have a few," Jaster replied.

"Do they involve killing those demagolka above ground?"

In a different situation, Jaster might've criticized Jango's bloodlust, but not here.

"Some of them."

Jango turned to face him.

"I'd like nothing more than to raze this useless, broken planet and the broken people on it," Jaster said firmly, meeting his son's gaze. "There's nothing worth saving up there. But there are lives to save down here. Helping these children comes first. I'll do what's best for them, not just what I want to do."

Slowly, Jango nodded.

Chapter Text

"Good to know there was a closer entrance," Jango said cheerfully as he removed his buy'ce . "Hello, gray sky. I almost missed you."

Obi-wan gave him an amused look as Jaster, last to emerge, pulled himself out of the sewer and to his feet.

"How old are you, Jango?" Obi-wan asked.

Jango ignored the implied jibe.

"21, Ob'ika. How about you?"

"I'm…" Obi-wan paused. "13?"

"You aren't sure?" Buir asked, pulling his own buy'ce off, frowning down at Obi-wan.

"I haven't been keeping track of the calendar," Obi-wan explained with a self-conscious shrug.

"Sure you aren't 12?" Jango asked, "You look more like you're 12."

Obi-wan scowled at him. "I turned 13."

"Well, so long as you're sure."

They made their way through the broken down city, careful about protruding rocks, and Jango examined the red-head leading the way. The boy was an enigma, that was for sure, far too competent for his age, and an apparent transplant to this world and this war despite the fact that Jango couldn't imagine a parent or guardian bringing him here.

But there was no doubt that he was smart, or brave. Jango understood all the better now, having seen The Young's base. Living through the reality of their own parents and other adults fighting and killing them every day made the courage Obi-wan must've had to trust them seem all the more impressive.

And when he looked over to his buir , he found he was unsurprised to see that the man was also watching Obi-wan, clearly lost in thought.

He turned to scan the surrounding rubble, not really expecting to see anything, as he kept thinking.

Obi-wan probably met the term 'foundling' better than any child Jango had ever met. He couldn't possibly have a buir , being here. Maybe he had lost them, or maybe they were now dar'buir - there was no way he would accept anyone coming back for Obi-wan, and he was sure Jaster wouldn't either.

All the children down in the sewers were now without parents, but Obi-wan was an outsider even to them. He wouldn't be surprised if, when all was said and done, Obi-wan was on the Legacy with them when they left.

And with that thought he mind, he sped his steps up to walk evenly with the redhead.

"So, Obi-wan," he started, not really sure where he was going, but determined to forge ahead, "what do you do for fun?"

Obi-wan looked at him like he was crazy, which was fair.

"Fine, what did you do for fun?" He corrected. "You haven't been fighting this war your entire life."

Obi-wan frowned, thinking.

"Um… I guess I liked… practicing?"

"Practicing stealth?" Jaster asked dryly, and Obi-wan blushed. So they already had an inside joke. That was cute.

"Anything else?" He prompted, catching his buir's eye. Jaster seemed amused, but approving.

"Reading. I… kinda liked taking things apart. Machines, I mean. Was never that good at putting them back together, though."

"We all have that phase," Jango said sagely, clapping a hand on Obi-wan's shoulder.

Obi-wan seemed startled, but he laughed.

"Did you ever try taking apart a jetpack?" Obi-wan asked, looking curiously at the pack strapped to Jango's back.

"Boy, did he," Jaster said, barking out a laugh. "And he didn't tell anyone either. If Silas hadn't caught him-"

"I would've been fine!" Jango protested, face going red in spite of himself. "Myles said-"

"Listening to Myles was your first mistake." Jaster interrupted. "It's almost always a mistake."

Jango just huffed, not dignifying that with a response.

Obi-wan was watching them with interest, a small smile on his face.

"Myles is a family friend," he explained. "Or maybe more like a pet?"

"That implies I'm responsible for him," Jaster disagreed.

Jango snorted, but continued. " Buir trained him to be a Commando, and now he leads a squad of them. And we're friends."

"Despite my best efforts," Jaster grumbled.

"What about Silas?" Obi-wan asked.

"He works with me, sometimes," Jaster explained. "Sometimes Mandalorians go out on solo bounties or in small groups - like we are - and sometimes we come together for bigger objectives. When we do that, Silas and I are on the same ship. He serves as the Quartermaster then."

And, Jango knew, Silas also had the formal title of Advisor to the Mand'alor, and both he and Myles were part of Jaster's inner circle. But his buir was hiding his identity, for now, so he kept quiet.

"What do the two of you do on the ship?" Now that he was more comfortable with them, Obi-wan's curiosity was coming out unfiltered, and Jango was glad his buir had found a child he could probably talk about his interests with. He and Arla had pretty short attention spans when it came to their buir's hobbies.

"I work on the bridge," Jaster answered, which Jango supposed was technically true.

He realized Obi-wan was watching him, and he coughed to cover his distraction.

"I haven't really gotten to do anything yet," he admitted. "But I would serve in a Commando unit."

"How old do you have to be to fight when you're a Mandalorian?"

"Officially? 13." Jango answered, unsurprised to hear buir growling at his answer. Obi-wan looked over at him, waiting for him to speak.

" Practically ," Jaster stressed, "it's around the same age as the Republic."

"Why is that?" Obi-wan asked. Jaster motioned for them to stop, Obi-wan and Jango both turning to face Jaster properly, Jango bracing himself for a lecture. Obi-wan, on the other hand, looked almost eager to hear about it.

"Culturally, Mandalorians put their children through something we call a verd'goten when they turn 13. It’s a sort of ritual, a trial a child goes through to formally reach adulthood. It's tailored to each child by their clans Armorer, mostly suited to their specific talents."

Obi-wan was clearly drinking this all up, and Jaster, obviously pleased to have an eager audience for once, kept talking.

"In practical terms, though, that child is still 13. They have some more rights than might be afforded to a child of the same age in the Republic, namely the ability to go against their parents wishes. They also qualify for specialized education tracks if they want them, like training to become a Commando, or an engineer, or an Armorer. But they're still children. Barring extreme circumstances, they're still living with their buire , still receiving formal education, and still being taken care of by the adults around them. And it takes years for those facts to change."

It was, Jango knew, a topic Jaster felt very strongly about. When he'd first been adopted by Jaster, he had been eager to fight, eager to try and get revenge for his murdered buire , but Jaster, for all that he would train him, refused to ever let him fight. He had been furious then, but he understood now. Seeing these adiik here only reinforced the lesson that fighting so hard so young was no kindness.

"Is buire the plural of buir ?" Obi-wan asked, careful in his pronunciation of the Mando'a words.

"Correct," Jaster said, pleased. "Unlike Basic, Mando'a places no emphasis on gender. Buir refers to any individual a child identifies as a parent or a guardian. Buire is a collective reference to everyone they identify that way."

"And how is an Armorer different from an engineer?" Obi-wan asked.

"Armor is very important to Mandalorians, practically and culturally," Jaster answered. "But we're boring poor Jango here." He said, grinning at him. Jango shrugged, and Obi-wan blushed.

"Sorry," the boy mumbled.

"Don't be sorry," Jaster and Jango chorused, then exchanged amused smiles.

"You're free to ask whatever you like," Jaster said, placing a hand on Obi-wan's shoulder. "I'm more than happy to answer." Obi-wan ducked his head, still red in the face as he mumbled out a thank you, and they began walking again.

Jango would have to warn Arla, if she didn't pick up on it herself. She might not be able to keep using the spare room back home for extra storage.

-

After returning to the ship, Obi-wan had been put in a chair at the table and given a ration bar while the Mandalorians had quick conversation entirely in their native tongue, which Jango had told him was called Mando'a . 

Obi-wan was beginning to think that naming conventions for Mandalorians were relatively simple. They were Mandalorians, from Mandalore who served the Mand'alor and spoke Mando'a. Jango had told him that Mandalore (the planet, not the person or the people) was technically Manda'yaim , but Arla, who he thought might have just been being difficult for fun, had pointed out that Manda'yaim was the term used for whatever the Mandalorians considered their capital planet, and that there had been multiple planets given the name throughout history. However, the capital planet right now was actually named Mandalore, as well as being considered Manda'yaim .

Jango had just rolled his eyes and disappeared deeper into the ship to help Jaster, but Obi-wan had always enjoyed learning about new cultures and languages, and had to quash the urge to pepper Arla with questions as she leaned against the counter, drinking something she had called shig but had not offered to share. She also had a datapad in her free hand, occasionally reaching over to scroll down.

Obi-wan finished his ration bar and couldn't help but feel awkward, sitting alone at the small table while Arla seemed content to drink her shig in silence.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and spoke up.

"Um… should I go and help them?"

"No," Arla answered.

Obi-wan kicked his feet back and forth under the table a couple times.

"What are you reading?" He asked before he could stop himself.

"Just a novel."

"Oh, really? What about?" Obi-wan asked, before mentally kicking himself. If she was reading, she obviously didn't want to talk. "I'm sorry," he said quickly.

Arla sighed and placed her pad down.

"Don't be," she told him. "I'm not good with small talk. It's gonna be crowded back there with Jaster and Jango, so neither of us would be much help. And it's a mystery novel. I like them."

"Oh. Ok." Obi-wan had no idea how to respond to that. Arla eyed him for a moment, before walking over and pulling out the chair opposite him, setting her mug down.

"What's your last name?" She asked suddenly.

"Uh - what?" Obi-wan stared at her in confusion, completely thrown by the non-sequitur.

"Your last name. Or family name. Got one?" When he didn't immediately answer, she added, "You didn't tell us when Jaster found you."

"Oh it's… Kenobi. Obi-wan Kenobi."

Arla nodded. "Alright, your turn."

"My turn to what?" Obi-wan asked, more confused than ever.

"Ask me a question. Whatever you want."

Obi-wan had avoided trying to read the Mandalorians with the Force much, not having much success with it with their armor on, and not wanting to give his past as a Jedi away, but he was so bewildered by this turn of events that he couldn't help reaching out to try and get a feel of what Arla was up to.

She had her helmet and gauntlets off, so he thought it might work better this time. When he reached out, however, he didn't encounter the strange muffled presence that he felt when they were armored, but instead smacked right into surprisingly strong mental shields. Arla had been trained to block Force-users out, and either knew what Obi-wan was, or was maintaining her shields out of habit.

"Well?" Arla prompted. "You gonna ask something, or are you gonna pass?"

"Um, well," Obi-wan stammered, shaking himself to recover from his surprise. "What are the rules? Wait, does that count as my question?"

Arla smirked at him, and Obi-wan blushed.

"I'll be nice and say no, neither of those count. Rules are simple. We take turns asking questions, and the other one answers honestly. You don't have to answer, but if you don't, the game's over. Got it?" Obi-wan nodded, and Arla winked at him. "Still your turn."

"Ok, uh…" Obi-wan cast around for a question. "Are you and Jango Jaster's biological children?" Jango and Arla looked similar enough, but neither really resembled Jaster.

"No, he adopted us. Adoption is very common in Mandalorian culture. My turn. What planet did you grow up on?"

Questions about his origin made Obi-wan uneasy, but that was safe enough to answer.

"Coruscant. How old were you when you were adopted?'

"Almost 18. It was mostly a formality. Do you have any parents?"

"No. What do you mean by 'a formality'?"

Arla didn't answer immediately, chewing on her lip, clearly thinking.

"That… requires context. I was kidnapped by a terrorist organization, and Jaster adopted me after he freed me. Did you ever have parents?"

"That wasn't much context." Obi-wan pointed out.

"No, it wasn't," Arla agreed. "Now answer the question."

"Everyone had parents at some point, but I don't remember any of mine," Obi-wan answered, a bit impishly. "Will you give me more context?"

Arla gave a dramatic sigh, but nodded. "The terrorist group is called Kyr'stad , or Death Watch in Basic."

"They sound nice."

"Don't they? Anyway, they killed our - Jango and mine's - birth parents for supporting the Mand'alor. Jaster saved Jango from that, and adopted him, but Kyr'stad got ahold of me. When Jaster rescued me, he adopted me, but it was more for Jango's sake than mine."

They were silent for a while, before Obi-wan spoke.

"Your turn."

Arla considered him for a moment.

"Are you keeping secrets from us because you're worried how we will react to them, or because you're worried sharing them will hurt someone else?"

They locked eyes, and Obi-wan felt transfixed by her gaze. There was no judgment or condemnation in her eyes, but they weren't lacking conviction either.

"Because I'm worried how you will react," he answered honestly. Arla nodded, face unreadable as she took a sip of her shig.

"Do you really think Jaster only adopted you because of Jango?" He asked quietly.

Arla set her mug down and stared into its contents for several seconds before answering.

"Sort of. He's a good man. He would have made sure I was taken care of and supported, that I would've gotten the training I wanted - he would've done that regardless. But I think he only formally adopted me because he already had Jango. My brother was his son, so it only made sense that I would be his daughter, once they learned I was alive. I call him buir sometimes, and I mostly mean it - just not in the same way Jango does."

She fell silent again, clearly lost in thought, and Obi-wan spoke again before he could stop himself.

"Do you think he would've adopted you, if he had found you with Jango?"

Arla looked up at him, expression thoughtful.

"Maybe. Or maybe, if Jango had still had me, he wouldn't have needed Jaster." She shrugged. "But that was two questions, little boy."

Obi-wan flushed and ducked his head, ready to murmur an apology, when Jaster's shout came from down the hall.

" Ob'ika! Can you come out here?"

Obi-wan frowned. "Ob'ika? Does that mean me?"

Arla's lips quirked up into a smile. "Yeah. It's sort of a nickname adults use for children."

Obi-wan thought about it. "Ad'ika is children, right? So…"

"Yes," Arla confirmed, nodding. "They've tried to be all professional with you so far, but to Jaster, Jango is usually Jan'ika. And he knows I hate being called Arl'ika, so he only calls me that if he wants to annoy me."

"So it's just how adults refer to their children?" Obi-wan asked, bewildered by the implications, but Arla, clearly amused, was shaking her head.

"I call Jango Jan'ika a lot too. It's sort of just a catch-all… endearment, I think is the word?"

" Obi-wan! Arla!"

So it wasn't specific to family, but it was affectionate. Obi-wan wasn't sure what to think of that, but he smiled nonetheless.

"Come on," Arla said, standing up. "After you."

Obi-wan obeyed, getting to his feet and heading towards Jaster’s voice, which took him back to the ramp and out of the ship.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting, but it wasn't a full-size hover pallet with multiple crates stacked on it, hooked up to an actual speeder, which Jaster was bending over, apparently inspecting something. Jango was securing the crates of supplies to the pallet with a rope.

"Jaster, this is…" Obi-wan trailed off, wide-eyed.

"Told you we had more than you'd expect," Jaster said, straightening up and smiling over at him. "Thing about rations made for long-term space travel is, they don't really go bad, at least not for a good long while. So we always eat the perishables first, and the supply of these slowly builds up. We never eat as many ration bars as we buy for each trip."

"Probably a good thing to clear out some of this stuff and make sure it gets some use, honestly," Jango chimed in.

"We'll head back to the nearest entrance, and then Jango will take the speeder back to the ship to go over our spare weapons with Arla and decide what we can share while you and I bring the rations back to the hideout."

"Then you'll probably have to come back out and get me," Jango added. "Unless Jas' buir sends me his armor directions, I'm likely to get lost down there."

Obi-wan nodded numbly, walking over when Jaster beckoned him to come closer.

"Thank you," He said quietly, and was surprised when Jaster wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. He didn't say anything, and they just stood there for a second, before Jaster released and started to move behind him.

Then he let out a yelp of surprise as he was abruptly swung up into the air before being brought down onto the speeder, Jaster smoothly throwing one leg over it and getting on behind him.

"Hey!" Was the only protest Obi-wan could manage, face burning as Jaster grinned down at him. He could barely see, behind Jaster's bulk, Jango sitting down on the pallet, clearly amused at his buir's actions.

"You ever ridden a speeder before?" Jaster asked.

"Y-yes," Obi-wan stammered. "Not… in a while, though."

"Then you'd better hold on!" Jaster told him, his grin possibly growing wider as he took the controls, Obi-wan now safely ensconced between Jaster's armored forearms. "It's not a long trip, but we might as well have fun with it!"

"I'm not strapped in!" Jango reminded his buir . Jaster's answer was not comforting.

"You've got armor, you'll be fine!"

And with that, the speeder revved to life, and Obi-wan thought that maybe, grabbing onto something was a good idea.

Chapter Text

The rest of The Young were just as wide-eyed at seeing the crates of supplies as Obi-wan had been, even knowing they only contained ration bars and water. The medical supplies and few blasters Jango had brought down on their second trip didn't even merit as much attention.

Jaster hated it. Hated the way most of the children looked at him. Not with fear, anymore, but with awe bordering on reverence. He was the one adult that was actually helping them, possibly the one useful adult they'd ever known , especially the younger ones.

It was easy enough to ignore those feelings at first, when they handed out the food and had a little feast, when some of the smaller children, no longer wary of him, had started to pepper him with questions, request piggyback rides, ask to examine his vambraces and his jetpack. Jango had shed his armor completely, before being buried under a pile of ade he had started to play wrestle with. Jaster had ended the night telling old Mandalorian bedtime stories, of all things.

At some point during the night, Cerasi had pulled Obi-wan aside and spoke quietly, likely apologizing on Nield's behalf, but Obi-wan had come back with a smile on his face, so Jaster had let it be. Nield himself had done his best to remain stoic and suspicious, but it had faded away after an hour or so as he began to play with the younger kids.

The playful shrieking of excited ade was infinitely preferable to the somber, resigned atmosphere that had first greeted them. But as he laid back on one of the sleeping mats he and Jango had brought, all Jaster could think was how easy it was to do this for them. How little it had taken to earn their trust, to bring them joy. How thoroughly abused and downtrodden they had been before now. It made his blood boil, thinking of the demagolka who had hurt them so much, and it made his heart break, for how much these adiik had suffered.

He couldn't wait, he knew. Waiting was the intelligent thing to do, building trust with this group until he could easily convince them to follow his lead, but after such a stark reminder that deep down, they really were just children - he couldn't. He'd have to move faster than he'd originally planned. Save as much of their childhood as he could.

He looked over to where the main body of The Young were sleeping, him and Jango having set up near the edge. He would have to push Obi-wan, he knew. They would need to trust each other fully for this to work. He just had to hope he wouldn't ruin what they already had.

-

"A supply run?" Nield asked dubiously. "You just brought supplies."

"And those will keep," Jaster said. "But we took some aerial images with our ship, and there's a supply cache not far from here. Hidden from the ground but visible from the air. It's too much for you guys to carry back, so we'll take the speeder over."

Nield and Cerasi exchanged a look. "We missed that?"

Jaster shrugged. "It's near the city. Can't tell how old it is, but it's not in your normal scouting range - I think."

"If you're sure…" Cerasi said, seeming confused.

"I'm mostly worried about water," Jaster explained. "Can't have enough of it, and we could only bring so much."

"Well, I won't complain," Cerasi said with a shrug. "We can have someone show you out, if you still need a guide."

"Actually, I was thinking I'll take Obi-wan with me, and have Jango stay here." Jaster said. Both boys looked at him in surprise. "Without knowing what's in that cache, we won't know what will be useful for The Young and what won't, so Obi-wan can come with and help me sort out what we should bring back. And Jango can stay here and start training with all of you."

Jango was clearly suspicious, but covered for him, and nodded before speaking to Nield.

"That's not a bad idea. Besides, some of your weapons are starting to break down right? Best to figure out which ones so we can trade them out for our blasters before someone gets hurt."

Cerasi and Nield seemed again confused, but shrugged.

"Alright," Nield said, a small frown on his face. "You ok with that Obi-wan?"

That question, Jaster noted silently, was a marked improvement in Nield's treatment of Obi-wan.

The redhead nodded. "Yeah, I don't mind."

"Great," Jaster said briskly. "Then let's get moving."

-

Obi-wan made a point to clamber up onto the speeder before Jaster could pick him up again, which made him grin as he settled in behind him. The hover-pallet was still secured to the back of the speeder, but folded up to roughly half the size it was when it was in use. Jango had done the bare minimum the day before, moving them behind some rocks to hide them from view before heading down into the sewer. With the Melida and the Daan thinking they were still investigating this area, the chance of an enemy patrol was almost non-existent.

They made their way due west, towards the nearest populated city, Jaster doing his best to take it a little slower than he normally did. Obi-wan was pressed firmly against his chest, but he had an almost white-knuckle grip on the speeder.

They pulled to a smooth stop just outside the city limits, and out of sight of any observers. Obi-wan hopped down immediately, almost falling to his hands and knees as his legs shook.

"You drive… so fast…" he said, a little breathlessly.

"It's called a speeder ," Jaster grumbled, for perhaps the millionth time in his life.

Obi-wan stood up straight and shook himself as Jaster locked the speeder in place before sitting down on it.

"So, where's the cache?" Obi-wan asked.

"There isn't one," Jaster said conversationally, taking his gauntlets off.

"What?" Obi-wan turned to him, bewildered.

"I lied."

He sat his gauntlets off to the side, along with his buy'ce , and began to work on his chestplate.

"Then - then what are we bringing back?"

"Supplies, like I said. There's plenty here." Jaster answered amicably. "Come help me with this, would you?"

Obi-wan seemed completely lost, but obeyed, moving behind him.

"There should be a release in the middle - right there! Thank you." Jaster stood up and pulled his chestplate off, setting it on the ground next to the speeder.

"You mean in the city? But how are you…" Obi-wan trailed off as Jaster uncoupled the pallet from the speeder. "Wait, you aren't just going to go buy some?" Obi-wan asked, aghast.

"Yes I am," Jaster said, rummaging in a bag hanging off the speeder that neither Jango nor Obi-wan had paid any attention to, pulling out a plain long-sleeved shirt that he pulled on over his blacks. Between the shirt and his boots, he didn't think anyone but a keen observer would realize what his blacks were, and that he normally wore a full set of armor over them. Not that it really mattered, but it paid to be cautious.

"But - you…" Obi-wan seemed absolutely floored by this turn of events. Jaster flashed him a smile.

"They're my credits, and I can do what I please with them. Now watch the speeder. I shouldn't be long."

And so saying, he strolled into the city, leading the hover pallet, as Obi-wan spluttered out objections behind him.

Jaster was under no illusions that he could possibly blend in. He was a complete stranger who appeared out of nowhere to buy whole crate-loads of food and water. But he didn't really care about being noticed. He was a big man with a blaster and a lot of credits, and had no doubt in his ability to intimidate any local shopkeeper into handing over supplies.

Word would get around, probably even to the higher-ups of the Melida or Daan - he had paid no attention to which faction this city was affiliated with - but Jaster had kept his buy'ce on the whole time he dealt with both factions, so out of his armor, he wouldn't be recognized right away. When they tried to contact him, Arla would assure them she had no idea what they were talking about. He would be identified eventually, but not in time for anyone to do anything about it.

Getting supplies was even easier than Jaster had anticipated, the shopkeepers tripping over themselves for Jaster's credits, and the pallet soon had a couple crates of food, and more importantly, water and juice, the latter of which he thought would make a nice treat for the adiik . He didn't bother thanking the man as he left, the owner too busy counting his credits to notice.

On any other planet in similar circumstances, Jaster might have tried to be conscious of leaving enough for the struggling people so they wouldn't run out of food or water either, but on this particular planet, he felt that the inhabitants of this city could all go straight to the deepest pit of whatever hell they believed in, and whether they got there by starvation or a blaster bolt didn't bother him one bit.

He stopped at a food stall, bought lunch for two, and made his way back out of the city in less than half the time he'd thought it would take.

Obi-wan jumped to his feet as he approached, rifle clutched in hands, eyes going wide as he saw the loaded up pallet.

"I got us lunch, too," Jaster said, holding up the bag. "But it's not hot, so let's put some distance between us and this place first."

Obi-wan nodded mutely, and hooked up the pallet to the speeder as Jaster re-donned his armor before they took off, the city rapidly shrinking behind them.

He pulled over near the sewer entrance they had come from, and after dismounting, motioned Obi-wan over to a pair of stones, where they sat down, Jaster offering Obi-wan one of the sandwiches he had bought.

"Allergies?" He asked, holding out the food.

"None that I know of," Obi-wan said, accepting the sandwich and frowning down at it. "This really should go to someone else."

"And yet, I bought it for you," Jaster pointed out, setting his own sandwich in his lap. "You need to keep your strength up too, and I couldn't buy enough for everyone. So eat."

Obi-wan sighed but nodded, and they spent some time just sitting there, eating quietly. It was dry - Jaster was unsurprised that this planet didn't have much in the way of taste - but Obi-wan was clearly enjoying it. Jaster supposed that after who knows how long living off of scraps and rations, any actual food would taste good.

After swallowing down his last bite, Obi-wan spoke.

"Why did you lie about there being a cache?"

"Because it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission," Jaster answered, brushing some crumbs off his chestplate. "They would have objected to me paying for supplies. You tried to object, lest you forget." Obi-wan blushed. "I'd like nothing more than to take it all by force, but getting the supplies and getting them back here is more important."

"I guess," said Obi-wan, frowning. "I hope it didn't cost you too much."

Jaster laughed. "Don't you worry about that, Ob'ika. I'll have no trouble replenishing my funds when we leave this planet."

"Do you make that much money bounty hunting?"

"You can, certainly. But I meant that I'll get reimbursed after all of this."

"Oh." Obi-wan was clearly confused, looking down at the remains of his lunch. Then he looked back up, nervous.

"I… can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Jaster said in mild surprise, looking down at the boy. "Anything."

Obi-wan bit his lip and looked out over the city.

"Is it true that you adopted Jango and Arla because their parents were killed?"

Jaster's eyebrows rose, wondering when exactly Obi-wan had heard that.

"It is, yes. Their family - the Fetts - got caught up in the conflict between the Mand'alor and a group called Kyr'stad. They're-"

"Death Watch." Obi-wan interrupted. "Arla told me."

"Ah. Well yes, I adopted them after they lost their birth parents. Why do you ask?"

Obi-wan didn't answer right away, clearly mulling over what he was going to say as he continued to gnaw on his lower lip.

"Arla also said that adoption is common for Mandalorians."

"It is," Jaster answered, still unsure where Obi-wan was going with this. "Like I said before, the care and safety of children is a top priority of our culture. That pretty commonly translates into adopting lost or hurting kids, as that’s the most direct way to care for them. Why are you asking me about this, Ob'ika?"

Obi-wan looked down, and it took Jaster a moment to realize that the boy was looking in the direction of the Young's hideout.

"Some of the kids are… so little," He said quietly. "There's one, an infant whose sister brought them here after they'd lost their mother. Their father started getting violent, so they ran… she died, a few weeks ago. And that baby's all alone now." He sniffed, and Jaster reached an arm out, pulling Obi-wan close to him. Obi-wan accepted the touch without complaint, leaning his head against Jaster's shoulder.

"I just want to make sure they're gonna be okay," Obi-wan said. "That they're gonna have something like the life they deserve."

"Well, don't worry so much about that," Jaster said, rubbing the boy's shoulder as he held him. "I'll make sure you're all taken care of. I promise."

"You're not the first person I've heard make promises they don't have the power to keep."

Immediately after he said it, Obi-wan pulled away, looking at Jaster with something uncomfortably like fear .

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry. I didn't mean- you're already helping, and-"

"Obi-wan. Obi-wan!" Jaster interrupted, reaching out to grab the panicking boy's shoulders. "It's ok! I promise I'm not offended, or whatever else you're imagining. It's fine."

Obi-wan was pale, but he met Jaster's eyes, and slowly started to relax.

"I'm sorry." Obi-wan repeated. "I didn't mean to be rude."

Jaster sighed and pulled Obi-wan in for a hug.

"The hell you're living through, I can't blame you for not having a lot of faith in a stranger," he murmured. He pulled back, again making eye contact. "But Obi-wan? I really can keep that promise."

"How?" Obi-wan asked, voice a little shaky.

Jaster released him and stood up, taking a few steps as he examined the ruined skyline. This hadn't gone exactly as he'd hoped. He hadn't intended for it to be such an emotionally charged topic. But there was nothing for it now.

He turned back to face Obi-wan.

"Because I'm the Mand'alor," Jaster said simply.

It took a second for Obi-wan to understand, but when he did, his mouth fell open.

"You're…"

"Mand'alor Jaster Mereel. Mand'alor the Reformer, they're trying to name me, but those sorts of epithets only really stick after the Mand'alor dies."

"You didn't tell us that." The question was phrased as a statement, and Jaster gave the boy a wan smile.

"Of course not. It's generally expected that a Mand'alor not spend all their time idle. We're a warrior people, and as the leader I'm supposed to exemplify that. But it's not a good idea to go around broadcasting it either, when I'm on a job. I don't have the security of my entire nation around me out here, after all."

He paced a few steps away, eyes scanning the grey skyline.

"Keeping it a secret was a reflex, at first. Then I couldn't be sure I could trust you."

"And then you promised us help," Obi-wan said quietly. "And you didn't trust us to ask for the right kind of help."

Jaster turned back to face him, careful to keep any trace of his feelings off his face.

"Nield is angry." He said, voice carefully neutral. "Cerasi is scared. And you're keeping secrets."

Obi-wan looked down at his hands.

"I don't blame you for that," Jaster continued. "I was keeping secrets too. There's all sorts of good reasons to keep secrets, whatever some people might have told you."

He walked back over and sat down beside Obi-wan.

"But I need your help to help these kids. And we need to trust each other to do that." Obi-wan didn't respond, still staring down at his hands, so Jaster pushed some more. "I need you to talk to me, Obi-wan. I need to know how you came to this planet, and why you're here alone."

Obi-wan swallowed, and nodded. 

"You're right. I just… promise not to get mad?"

"Everything about this planet makes me mad, Ob'ika. But I promise I won't get mad at you ."

Obi-wan made a valiant attempt at smiling, before his face fell and his eyes turned back to the ground.

"I joined the Young close to 7 months ago, now. They helped me, and I wanted to help them and…" He was failing to keep his voice steady, clearly upset. "I just wanted to help. I really did. I thought I could! But-but-I just made everything worse!"

He was fighting back tears, rubbing at his eyes furiously. Jaster didn't hesitate to wrap his arms around the boy, pulling him close. He didn't say anything, just cradled the boy to his chest as he took deep, shuddering breaths, head leaning against Jaster's chestplate.

"They were just… children, before." Obi-wan said, struggling to control his sniffling. "They knew their way around, they were learning how to plan and fight… but they were still just a pack of kids with impossible dreams and terrible enemies. And they still helped us."

"Who is 'us'?" Jaster asked quietly. He didn't loosen his hold, nor did Obi-wan make any effort to pull away.

"My Jedi Master and I."

Jaster didn't stiffen. He didn't let go. He had tried to ready himself for any possibility, to steel himself for any answer, knowing that Obi-wan's obvious fear of telling him meant that he needed to be quick to reassure him that things would be alright. As it was, he couldn't help his surprised breath. He compensated for it as best he could by holding the boy tighter.

It made sense, when he thought about it. More sense the longer he thought about it.

After a few seconds of silence, Jaster squeezed Obi-wan. The boy looked up at him, apprehensive and scared.

"We aren't so unreasonable, you know," Jaster said quietly. "History is just that. History. And I would never hold a child to account for that sort of thing besides."

"Yeah," Obi-wan agreed with a shaky laugh. "I guess I should've learned that about you by now." Jaster smiled and gave him another squeeze, before releasing him.

"Tell me what happened."

"I grew up in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. I never knew any other home. My Master is - was - Qui-gon Jinn. Our mission was to rescue a different Jedi Master that had crash-landed on this planet. But trying to get anywhere with the Melida and the Daan backfired. The Melida had actually imprisoned her, and wanted to imprison us, to use us as hostages to get Republic support. The Young helped us escape, and then helped us get to Master Tahl."

"What happened to the other Jedi?" Jaster asked sadly, although he felt that the answer was obvious.

Obi-wan looked out on the city, a hollow look in his eyes.

"Our mission was to rescue Master Tahl. We succeeded. The mission was over."

A sensation akin to sinking into cold water was spreading across Jaster's body.

What Obi-wan was implying seemed impossible. Unconscionable .

"They didn't," he whispered, unable to hide his horror as he looked at Obi-wan.

"We were representing the Republic." Obi-wan said tonelessly. "And a Republic representative couldn't take part in a civil war outside our borders."

Jaster desperately tried to work through what he was saying. Tried to make sense of it.

"They left you?" He finally asked, after failing to come up with any other explanation.

There was a stubborn line to Obi-wan's jaw as he answered.

"I chose to stay."

"Obi-wan, you're thirteen . There's no difference!" His voice came out louder than he intended it to, but he couldn't help himself.

"Yes there is!" Obi-wan yelled back fiercely, turning to face him defiantly, but now was not the time for Jaster to coddle him.

He reached out and seized Obi-wan's shoulders, locking eyes with him.

"No, there isn't!" He growled. "You are a child, Obi-wan! Maybe here, on this terrible planet, you've forgotten what that means, but I know what it means. He was the adult responsible for you. If leaving was the correct choice, then he should've taken you along if he had to drag you with him. If staying was right, then he should be right here with you. But you're here and he's not, and that's wrong , and that's his fault."

Obi-wan seemed overwhelmed by his intensity, but he wasn't ready to back down.

"He gave me a choice-"

"He shouldn't have." Jaster interrupted with an air of finality. "I sure as hell wouldn't have. I don't know who stuck you with that bastard, but-"

"You don't know him-"

"I know enough!" Jaster snarled. "I know he's not here. I know you're still here, alone , 6 months after he left. Where is he? Where are any other Jedi? How could they abandon you-"

But then he stopped himself. Obi-wan's eyes were welling with tears. Jaster made a strangled kind of groan and pulled Obi-wan back into another crushing hug.

Obi-wan sobbed quietly, his face pressed up against Jaster's chestplate. He wished he could take it off.

"I'm sorry," Jaster murmured. "I'm not mad at you. You haven't done anything wrong. None of this is your fault."

Obi-wan shuddered at that, and Jaster frowned, pulling him away from his chest and holding him at arm's length.

"Why do you think any of this is your fault?" Jaster asked quietly.

The boy sniffed. "Because you're here."

Jaster let go of his shoulders, his arms falling to his sides. "What do you mean?"

Obi-wan rubbed at his eyes, the action making him look so much younger.

"Because they were just children. And then we came along. The Melida and the Daan noticed them as they helped us, and then… I was trained. I was experienced, at least a little. I could fight, I could sneak into places, I could sabotage weapons… and I could train the others to do the same. They weren't helpless without me, but with me, they became more effective. They became more than a nuisance. Suddenly, we had a real chance of forcing the fighting to stop."

Obi-wan wrapped his arms around himself.

"So they started targeting us. Preparing traps for us. Fighting us for real." Tears were threatening to fall again. "The Melida hired a group of Bounty Hunters to kill us. And the Daan gave them their approval. They didn't know you were going to help us. They just wanted us dead that badly. Because… because of everything I did! Because I made us a threat!"

Jaster reached up and pressed the clasps around his chestplate, going through the motions of removing his armor as Obi-wan watched, confused. Once it was off, he set it to the side and, without a word, gathered Obi-wan up in his arms.

The boy let out a noise of surprise as Jaster lifted him up and set him in his lap, a task made easier by the months of malnutrition that was slowly starving the redhead. He held on tightly, pressing a quick kiss to the top of the boy's head before speaking quietly.

"You did nothing wrong, Ob'ika. Not one thing. You tried to do the right thing. To protect the helpless and fight for them. No one is responsible for evil except for those that do evil. You've done well."

Obi-wan didn't cry. He seemed to have exhausted his tears. And he didn't say anything either. He just closed his eyes and leaned into Jaster's hold, taking one shaky breath after another. His head rested right over Jaster's heart, so his heartbeat would be playing right into the boy's ear. Jaster wondered if that felt different for a Force Sensitive.

They sat there for what felt like a long, long time. Jaster wondered if Obi-wan had fallen asleep, but didn't want to bother him by checking and didn't really mind if he had. There was no rush right now. No emergency.

Finally, Obi-wan stirred and began awkwardly trying to dislodge himself from Jaster's grip.

Jaster, amused, lifted him up again and set him down back on their little stone bench next to him. Obi-wan did not seem to enjoy being manhandled like that, blushing furiously as he looked at anything other than Jaster.

Jaster let him stew for a moment before clearing his throat meaningfully. Obi-wan made a valiant effort to calm down, the red receding from his face as he looked over at Jaster.

"Thank you," He whispered quietly.

Jaster put a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed. "Anytime, ad'ika."

Obi-wan smiled at him before his expression turned serious. "So what happens now?"

"Now we figure out how best to help The Young. As Mand'alor, there is a whole sector of space that will answer my call, particularly if that call is to rescue ad . So, it's best we figure out what, exactly, I'm calling them to do before I do it."

Obi-wan nodded thoughtfully. "Do you have any ideas?"

"A number of them," Jaster replied. "And a couple things I couldn't ask them to do."

Obi-wan met his eyes. "You promised to help however you could."

Jaster nodded. "I did. And I made that promise because I was surrounded by a group of terrified adiik who needed to be reassured that I was there to help. Having said that, I don't want to break that promise if I can help it, so, we need to figure out how best to approach Cerasi and Nield so they won't force me to."

"What won't you do?" Obi-wan asked first.

"Let you all fight anymore."

Obi-wan frowned at that, and Jaster elaborated.

"I might not be able to help that right now, certainly not if you're attacked, but Mandalore coming here means that the Young's war is over . Neither I nor my people would ever accept just giving them supplies and letting children fight a war."

"Which is what Nield might ask for." Obi-wan agreed tiredly.

"Precisely. Now, as for what we can do, as broken down and beaten up as this world is, conquering it would be easy. I half expect Jango, Arla and myself could do most of that work by ourselves. Killing all the Elders, or just destroying their infrastructure, forcing them off planet or putting them under house arrest… any of that would be easy. And pointless."

"Pointless?"

"There's nothing here, Ob'ika," Jaster said with a sigh. "Nothing but broken buildings and eternally gray skies. What life could the Young build here, if the war ended?"

Obi-wan didn't answer.

"There might - might - be farmable land left on this planet. But it would have to be located, probably cleared off and restored, and even then, does anyone in The Young know much about agriculture?"

"I know a little…" Obi-wan mumbled, and Jaster laughed.

"Well of course you do, since you seem to know a little bit about everything." He grinned, and Obi-wan gave him a small smile in return.

"But, seriously," Jaster said, sobering up. "What's left here? How many hospitals, or schools? Construction machinery? Not none , there are still people living here, they have to have some of those, but not much. And who among The Young would trust an Elder doctor to treat them, or an Elder teacher to teach them? What's left for them here?

"What streets could they feel safe walking down? What homes could they return to? Those buildings would either be empty because the other people who lived there died, or it would be filled with former family members who waged war against them. Maybe, and it's a big maybe, this planet could be physically restored. But it would be the work of generations, and it wouldn't be worth it. There's nothing left here for anyone."

"So what, then?" Obi-wan asked. "What should we do?"

"Leave," Jaster answered simply.

Obi-wan blinked.

"Leave?" He repeated, confused, and Jaster nodded.

"I call my people. They come in a big ship. We load up The Young and take them somewhere better, and leave the adults to stew in this hell of their own making. Maybe something that drastic will make them see sense, maybe they'll get right back to killing each other. I really won't care at that point." Of course, Jaster would prefer to kill them, but he didn't want to traumatize these adiik anymore than they already had been, and extracting them would be safer if there was no shooting.

"You really think that could work?" Obi-wan asked doubtfully.

"Yes. Like I said before, the care and safety of children is central to Mandalorian society. Most of the kids would be adopted, probably right away, and those that aren't, or wouldn’t want to be would still be taken in as foundlings, still given food, medical care, education. They could have a home. A future."

Obi-wan thought that over for a bit.

"You think that's the best option?"

Jaster sighed again. "I think the only other realistic options are a near genocide or a brutal dictatorship."

Obi-wan recoiled, and Jaster gave him a grim smile.

"Hence why they aren't my first choice. We could not rule over these people kindly. By the Creed I follow, I barely think of them as people. If we didn't wipe them out, we'd have to keep them on a perpetual lockdown to make sure the children were safe. That's not even touching on how bad it would be for us to come out of nowhere and occupy a planet, especially one so close to Republic space."

Obi-wan digested that in silence.

"I think you're right," The boy said quietly. "But I don't know how to convince the others of that."

"We have time, right now. Let's put our heads together and figure something out." Jaster told him.

Obi-wan smiled at him, and nodded.

Chapter Text

Multiple images flickered in the display, holos of the same man, showing him at different angles.

A hooded figure studied them, eyes narrowed.

"Do we know why?" He asked.

" It does not matter. " The images of the man disappeared and his master re-appeared in the display. "What matters is that he is away from his palace. His people. Now is the time to make up for Vizsla's failures."

"I will go at once, then."

"No."

"Master?"

"Killing Mereel will no longer have quite the effect we originally hoped for. Even taking back the Darksaber is no guarantee, since it will take time to find another puppet to gift it to. I will not chance revealing us for such a small prize as his head now offers."

"Then what do you suggest, My Lord?"

"This planet is a glorified ruin." information began to populate the screen as his Master sent it over. "A beautiful tribute to an unending blood feud. There is no planetary warning system, no patrols, almost no satellites. It should be simple to land a ship unnoticed. You have… tools, at your disposal, do you not?"

Sidious was careful to show no reaction to his Master's words.

"Use them. Send a squad to eliminate Mereel and his children, and we can get back to the work of destabilizing the Mandalore sector without his irritating interference."

"As you wish, My Lord. Your will will be done." He bowed, and the image flickered and then disappeared, and Sidious relaxed.

His Master's fixation on Mandalore annoyed him. He understood it, logically. The beskar was valuable, and more to the point, the fact that their gambit with Vizsla and the traitor Montross had failed was a sore point.

Demanding that Sidious commit his resources on a mission with so many unknowns, and without giving him time to learn of those unknowns - that was just like his Master. It was annoying .

He would just have to send someone who could adapt well enough to complete this mission. Someone he had been wanting to test properly for some time now.

A smile slowly crossed his face. Never let it be said that he wasn't capable of turning a situation to his advantage.

Getting the supplies down into the sewers was an educational experience for Jaster.

Before, when they brought supplies from The Legacy , he and Jango had simply dropped the crates of rations down into the tunnels. Then, when they brought the medical supplies, Arla was with them and they had carefully handed the crates from person to person down the ladder before Arla returned to the ship. Each time, they only had to transport 2 cases at a time, and he and Jango had simply carried one each.

Now, however, he had 8 such crates, and they were far more fragile than the durasteel he brought his own supplies in. Obi-wan's solution had been novel, at least to Jaster.

He carefully leaned over the open sewer entrance and dropped each crate straight down, where Obi-wan was waiting to catch them with the Force.

Jaster had watched in undisguised fascination as the first crate slowed around the halfway point of the drop, before floating lazily out of sight as Obi-wan found a place to set it down. Then he called up that he was ready for the next one. They repeated the process seven more times, and then Jaster turned to the hover pallet.

They had left it topside with the speeder before, but it could be manipulated for easy storage, and when Jaster folded it in half, it was just narrow enough to slip through the open sewer grate.

This time, however, he didn't release it, instead carefully carrying it down himself. It was heavier than any of the crates, and he was worried that Obi-wan might strain himself. (Not that Jaster knew much about the Force, but he was pretty sure that was possible.) Once he was down, Obi-wan used the Force to pop the grate cover back on, and they set the pallet back up and stacked the crates back on it, before heading back towards the hideout.

They hadn't been walking long before Jaster noticed Obi-wan stealing glances at him. Not up at him though - something on his armor.

"What is it?" He asked bluntly.

"Oh, nothing!" Obi-wan answered quickly, blushing and looking straight.

"Obi-wan," was all Jaster responded with, feeling a curl of amusement at the way Obi-wan reddened and looked away from him.

"I was just - wondering. The symbol on your shoulder is also on your blaster. And I was wondering what it meant."

"Ah," Jaster said, coming to a stop. He pulled the blaster from his side and held it up in the light from his headlamp, where indeed the Mythosaur he had painted on it was clearly visible. Unlike the sigil on his shoulder, however, this one was painted in gold.

"It's a Mythosaur skull, the symbol of my movement. An old creature, long since extinct, but it was a recognizable image to call back to an old idea of Mandalore."

Obi-wan examined the blaster, and after a moment's hesitation, Jaster held it out to him. Obi-wan looked up at him, apparently recognizing that there was some weight to that gesture, but accepted it, holding the blaster in both hands as he looked it over.

"Your movement?" He asked. 

"I didn't set out to become Mand'alor, but I did set out to bring my people together. Guess it's not too surprising that I became Mand'alor along the way. Mythosaurs were powerful creatures that used to live on Mandalore, so it's a good symbol to remind my people of their heritage."

Obi-wan considered that for a moment, before handing the blaster back.

"So you just have the symbol on your pistol to tell people it's yours?" Obi-wan asked dubiously. Jaster barked out a laugh.

"No, Ob'ika." He held up the blaster, so the entire thing was visible in the light from his buy'ce. "This… is the gun I used to kill my best friend."

Obi-wan stared at him in shocked silence.

"Mind you, he shot me first. I guess he didn't agree with the way I was handling things. The direction I was leading us in. He decided to remove me."

He angled the blaster so the light caught the gold Mythosaur. "Gold is the color for vengeance. I painted it there to remind me. Of what I did, and what I might have to do again."

He let the silence hang for a moment before re-holstering the blaster and shrugging.

"But, probably not. Things have settled down for us, relatively speaking, over the past couple of years. That's why I was free to go hunting in the first place."

"Sorry for bringing it up," Obi-wan murmured.

"Don't be," Jaster replied easily, as they began to walk again. "It's there as a reminder, after all."

Obi-wan still looked downcast as they walked along, so Jaster poked at him again.

"If you're going to insist on being sorry, maybe you can answer some of my questions to make up for it."

"Questions about what?" Obi-wan asked.

"The Jedi. The Force. I'd like to get a good idea of just what it is you can do, and," he added, grinning under his buy'ce , "I fancy myself a bit of a scholar, when I have time for it."

Obi-wan visibly perked up, and Jaster applauded himself on both cheering the boy up, and making an opening to ask about the famous Jedi Archives.

They returned to the hideout and distributed the supplies. The juice, as Jaster had suspected, was a big hit, and they stowed a couple extra crates away for later. Jaster was pretty sure it was the first time the Young had ever had a surplus of food.

While the adiik were enjoying themselves, he pulled Jango aside and filled him in on their plan, before asking him to slip out and comm Arla so she knew what was going on as well, and to expect questions from the Melida or Daan in response to Jaster's venture into town.

While Jango did that, Jaster and Obi-wan accompanied Cerasi and Nield back to their little command post. As predicted, both were mad that Jaster had lied about the cache and had purchased the supplies directly, but also as predicted, they forgave him in the face of how much he had been able to bring back, and Nield even grudgingly admitting that he would've argued.

"Now that's all settled," Jaster said. "I have some questions for you."

"Oh what, you think just because you bought some food, we'll suddenly trust you with everything?" Neild demanded. Cerasi just sighed, and Jaster suppressed his amusement at the boy's anger. Nield was a few years older than the others, well into his adolescence, and it showed.

"Not tactical questions," He told Nield. "Mostly, I wanted to ask about your plans for after the war."

Both Cerasi and Nield looked at him blankly, and Jaster died a little inside.

It was the conclusion he and Obi-wan had reached earlier, but it still hurt to see. Both of them dreamed of ending the war, but they had no thought about what came after. How could they? War was literally all they had ever known. It was all anyone alive on this planet had ever known. They didn't know what peace was .

It would make it either very easy, or very difficult to convince them to accept leaving the planet.

"Well," Nield said, after the silence had stretched for several seconds. "We'll be in charge then."

"Right," Jaster agreed. "And then?"

"And then…" Nield began, but he trailed off, and looked over at Cerasi.

"Then… we make things better," Cerasi said. "No more war and… and we help people. Each other."

"That's good," Jaster said, nodding. "How?"

Silence fell again. Both of the Young's leaders looked to Obi-wan for help, but he just shook his head and looked away.

After a full 10 seconds had passed in silence, Jaster sighed.

"There's infrastructure. Agriculture. Medicine. Education. The planet-wide economy. Foreign relations. The surviving Elders. The-"

"We get it," Nield interrupted him.

"We're not ready to run a planet," Cerasi said quietly.

"No, you aren't," Jaster agreed. Nield glared at him, but Jaster ignored him, and kept speaking. "You don't know the first thing about government. And of course you don't. You're teenagers. Nobody your age would be ready to rule over anything."

Jaster sighed and shook his head.

"After everything you've accomplished here, only a fool would bet against you. But even if you could figure it all out, even if you could rule effectively - you shouldn't."

"Shouldn't?" Nield repeated, confused.

"Tell me honestly, what on this planet is worth ruling? What is left here that has any value to anyone? What's left here that is worth fighting a war over?"

"There's us," Cerasi said quietly.

"Damn right," Jaster said, grinning at her for a moment before sobering up. "But that's it. There's no special monument, no fragile ecosystem, nothing here worth fighting for except the kids out there." He could see in their eyes that they agreed with him.

"The best way to protect those kids, and you, isn't to fight a war." He told them. "It's to leave."

"Leave?" Cerasi echoed, focusing on him intently.

"Leave." Jaster repeated. "I call home. My people bring in some ships. We load up the Young and we leave this place."

"What about the Melida and the Daan?" Nield asked.

"What about them?" Jaster snorted. "Maybe watching you all leave will finally make them see sense. Maybe they'll just keep killing each other. They aren't worth worrying about. They aren't worth any of you."

“But it’s not just about us,” Cerasi argued. “It’s about everyone else. It’s about who comes after us, and after them.”

“Cerasi,” Obi-wan sighed, speaking up for the first time. “There won’t be anyone else after you.”

All three of them turned to look at him.

“What?” Cerasi’s voice came out higher-pitched than normal, her eyes wide as she looked at her friend.

“Ob’ika…” Jaster didn’t say anything more, but his heart ached. A child shouldn’t have to know this, shouldn’t have to understand it. They damn sure shouldn’t have to explain it to another child. But he couldn’t interfere. They would understand it better, if it came from him.

Obi-wan looked at Cerasi sadly. “There’s no one left, Cer. This war has been going on for so long. Most of the planet’s empty, barren. Everyone’s here, just in these couple cities. What do you think this planet’s population is? 10,000? Less? And more die every day. This whole planet is dying.” 

He wrapped his arms around himself, closing his eyes and shuddering. “You can’t feel it. Can’t feel what it’s like, to be out there, surrounded by so much emptiness. The quiet isn’t soothing or peaceful. It’s the quiet of death.”

Jaster leaned over and placed a hand on Obi-wan’s shoulder. The boy closed his eyes and leaned into the touch, clearly craving the comfort.

“So…” Nield started, before stopping, closing his eyes, and taking a steadying breath before trying again. “So… what?” He asked a little helplessly. “What are you saying? That the planet’s already doomed? That there’s no point? That we’ve been fighting all this time for nothing?”

“You’ve been fighting to survive,” Jaster said quietly. “Fighting to live. That’s not nothing at all.”

“But it’s hopeless?” Cerasi asked quietly. “For the planet… for our home. We can’t save it?”

Obi-wan looked to Jaster.

“If the fighting stopped. If everyone devoted all of their resources, their energy. Then… maybe. Crops can be re-planted, cities rebuilt.” Jaster said. “But you kids know better than that, don’t you? You know that’s not how things will go. How many more will die? How much more will be destroyed? How much could you actually rebuild?”

"And what would we do, if we went with you?" Cerasi asked softly.

"Whatever you want," Jaster said calmly. "We'd take you all back to Mandalore to start. If some of the kids have other places they can go we can take them there." It was such an unlikely prospect that it was an easy promise to make. "Otherwise, we'll get you all setup back home. Most of the kids will probably end up adopted. Hell, I’d expect a good number of them to have parents before we reach the planet. And if they aren't adopted, or they don't want to be, we have systems in place to care for foundlings. Anyone can still be educated, looked after. Free to choose their own future."

Cerasi and Nield exchanged a look, both frowning.

"We'd be giving up our home. " Cerasi said sadly.

They were almost there, and Jaster was happy to provide the final push.

"I gave up mine, once." He told them. All three adiik turned their attention to him. "When I was younger, I joined a group called the Journeyman Protectors. Lofty name, lofty goals. Sort of an armed militia to keep our planet and sector safe. But I wasn't there long before I discovered a superior officer was corrupt, and getting people hurt because of it. I confronted him, it turned into a fight, and I was forced to kill him. I was exiled for that."

"Really?" Obi-wan asked, wide-eyed, and Jaster nodded.

"I still am. But I don't regret it." Jaster hadn't actually tested his continued exile from Concord Dawn. It would be a sticky situation, challenging the governor's ban without just demanding it be rescinded with a threat of violence. But he was Mand'alor - it wouldn't do to continue to be banned from one of the principal planets under his protection.

"You didn't know you would be exiled," Nield pointed out. "It's easy to say you would've done it anyway. But you don't know that."

"I knew that," Obi-wan said quietly, before Jaster could respond. "I gave up my home, remember? I gave up… everything." Jaster impulsively rested a hand on the boy's shoulder, managing to restrain himself from doing anything more in front of the other two.

Obi-wan gave him a small smile, before he straightened up and looked at the leaders of the Young.

"I don't regret leaving either. It hurts, but it can be worth it. And Jaster's right. Leaving can be hard, but it's the right choice here, too. Don't sacrifice anything else to this war. Not when you have the power to choose a better future."

There was silence for several minutes after that, and Cerasi and Nield considered their proposal silently. Jaster and Obi-wan simply waited quietly.

Then, Cerasi and Nield just exchanged a look, and slowly, they both nodded.

The Young would accept Mandalore's aid, and leave the planet of Melida/Daan behind.

Chapter Text

Of course, that was easier said than done. Because like everything else on this awful, awful planet, the communications technology was terrible and broken and useless.

"We could send Arla off planet and have her link into a comm buoy," Jaster said, "but that would take a few days, and leave us without access to our only ship and one of our best fighters."

"Besides," Added Jango, who had joined them to discuss strategy after Cerasi and Nield had agreed to their plan. "So long as Arla is on planet, she can keep fooling the Melida and Daan into thinking we're hunting for you. Those hut'uun might be stupid, but they aren't deaf and blind."

" Hut'uun ?" Nield repeated curiously. "Is that an insult?"

" 'lek , yes," Jango affirmed, and Jaster was amused at his blatant attempt to start teaching them Mando'a. "It means 'Hutt like', those slimy bastards."

"Jan'ika, can you at least try to avoid teaching the children swear words?" Jaster asked, knowing the answer even as he said it.

"I will not," Jango said defiantly. "They deserve to know a few good swears."

Nield snorted, and didn't it just figure these two would get along?

"So," Cerasi said pointedly, and Nield went a little pink as they re-focused on the problem at hand. "We either give up a major asset for a while, or find another way to contact your people."

"We do have supplies now," Obi-wan pointed out. "We can hole up down here and wait."

"The problem," Jaster said grimly, "is that I'm worried our little trick might backfire then." The others looked at him curiously, except Jango, who groaned.

"What do you mean?" Cerasi asked, looking back and forth between him and Jango.

"Arla is moving around the planet allegedly looking for you," Jaster explained. "And she's the one who made excuses for my little trip into town. What are they going to do if she just up and disappears?"

Obi-wan sighed. "They'll look into what you bought and realize you couldn't possibly need all the supplies. Jango's right. There's a limit to how stupid we can trust them to be."

"There's no convincing excuse Arla could give. Once they come to the conclusion that we're helping you instead of them, they'll re-focus on this area." Jaster said. "They may not have much, but they only need one artillery shell and a lucky hit to bring this whole cave down on our heads."

"If you stay dormant, we can give the impression that you're hiding from us," Jango added. "It'll offset buir's weird shopping trip. But if they get too suspicious, it'll look like we're working together to prepare for something big."

" Buir ?" Cerasi repeated, confused.

"It means 'parent'," Obi-wan murmured to her, indicating Jaster, who exchanged a quick grin with Jango.

"So it would be best," Nield said. "To figure out another way to contact Mandalore. And we can't wait too long, since that'll make them suspicious too."

Jaster nodded. "There's no way a planet like this is completely cut-off from the rest of the galaxy. They were able to reach out and hire us, after all. My guess is each government maintains a private uplink that they keep unavailable to the other side and their regular citizens. But barging into one of their capitals would also alert them that we've switched sides."

"I never really thought about how cut off this place was," Nield said, frowning. 

"It can't be impossible for us to send a message off-planet, right?" Obi-wan asked.

"No, it isn't," Jaster said, walking over to the cabin's only window and looking out over the cavern. "Any planet with any amount of civilization on it has access to the holonet. We can access information, view public records, that sort of thing. But as far as long-distance communication goes, the best we could do is record a message and send it low priority. And that won't work. First, because I need to hold a conversation, not just send a recording, and second, because it needs to be secure."

"You're worried about the Melida or Daan listening in?" Jango asked.

"Yes." Jaster confirmed. "Most planets are too big and have too many people for their governments to monitor all outgoing transmissions, but I'm not sure that's true here. And if they could, they would. I don't need to know much about these people to know they'd be paranoid about spies or defectors communicating with the other faction." He drummed his fingers on the windowsill, thinking. "We don't need high-end encryption. We just need it to go unnoticed. Routine sweeps might catch it eventually, but eventually will be long enough."

He turned back to the others. Cerasi and Nield both seemed lost, but Jango and Obi-wan were clearly thinking hard.

"Privileged access," Jango suggested. "We make use of the connection of someone high-ranking enough that their correspondence wouldn't automatically be screened."

"Or you could go straight to the source," Obi-wan said. "Go to an existing comms relay and hack in, bypassing their security on site and calling out."

Jaster considered their proposals, impressed.

"Those are… good ideas." He told them, and both of them ducked their heads at his praise. "Jango's idea is probably safer, but Obi-wan's is probably faster. So, which is more important?"

They didn't need to debate it.

"Speed," Jango said, and the others agreed.

"We have supplies for now, but if we don't conduct any more raids they'll run out fast," Cerasi said. 

"And we don't know when they'll give up on you guys killing us," Nield added. "For people who have been at war for their entire lives, they can be really impatient. And stupid."

Considering they had apparently tried to kidnap and ransom two random Jedi to force the Republic to help them, Jaster agreed with Nield's assessment.

"Right. So we need to locate the nearest functional communications relay." Jaster stated, and the others nodded. "Anyone know where it is?"

"Nope!" Obi-wan answered, and he almost sounded cheerful.

Now that they had a direction, Jango felt much more confident.

Their plan, such as it was, was simple. He and Jaster would take turns scouting, moving gradually further and further out from the Young's base, careful to avoid detection. They were, after all, supposed to be in the same region as Arla was, and it would be difficult to explain why they were still here.

So, making sure not to be spotted, they strayed closer and closer to civilization, scanning for anything that looked like a relay.

They wouldn't be able to keep it up for long, as they would be down to their reserve fuel cells shortly, and those would need to be saved for emergencies.

Arla, when she could risk it, was flying into the upper atmosphere to manage a more comprehensive scan of the area, but, paranoid as they were about being caught by the Melida or Daan, was dropping back regularly to make sure she wouldn't be missed, and was therefore doing the scan a little bit at a time. Jango privately wondered if their paranoia was unnecessary, if the Melida and Daan really had the technology to keep track of them, but knew that they couldn't take a chance with the adiiks' lives .

The Young as a group had not been informed of the change in plan. He and Jaster had simply trusted Cerasi and Nield on that, as they planned to wait to announce it until it was almost time to go. The difficulty in that meant most of the kids still thought they were fighting a war. Jango was happy to entertain the younger kids and play wrestle with them or whatever they wanted to do, but it disturbed him when the older children came to him for more weapons training.

He wouldn't have thought anything of it back home. Plenty of these adiik would've already been learning to play cu'bikad , and that used knives. But he knew why they wanted to learn. It was because there were people they wanted to kill, or people they were willing to kill in order to protect. And they were too damn young for that.

Not for the first time since he learned about the Young did Jango reflect on his own childhood.

After his buire had died and Jaster had taken him in, he had wanted to learn to fight so badly. He had been angry and eager, and Jaster had been reluctant, only taking him through the basics over and over again. Jango had been furious over it. He knew he had talent, he was working hard, and he wanted to get strong enough to get revenge. He hadn't understood why Jaster had resisted. Then Kyr'stad had come along again and taken the choice out of both their hands, and by the time Jango had recovered, Jaster had no more objections.

Now, though, Jango thought he might finally understand why his buir had been reluctant to train him seriously. Here, he could watch these children, who were like he had been in a few key ways. And it was… awful . Not just to observe, but to see what it had done to them. It was all so destructive . Everything they had ever been and were going to be had been torn away from them. Their lives had been permanently altered by this violence and what it had left behind was nothing at all like what a child should be.

That's why it was important, when they played. When they listened to bedtime stories and accepted the protection of the only adults they had ever met who really meant to protect them. It was a sign that they could be children once again. And it made it all the more important that they succeed, that they find these kids a home and protect the few lingering shreds of innocence they still had.

It was what Jaster had tried to do for him. To keep him away from violence and let him be a kid for a little while longer. The constant outside interference of Kyr'stad had made that impossible, but his buir had tried, and Jango loved him all the more for it.

And here he was, trying again. On a much bigger scale, too. And Jango knew his buir was also trying his best to help on a smaller scale as well. So, on the second day after they decided on their new plan, while Jaster was out scouting, he went looking for Obi-wan.

Now that he had revealed his past as a jetii , Obi-wan was not shy about using his Force powers, and Jango was unsurprised to find him in the Young's little medical area. Even the meager amount of medicine they'd been able to bring from The Legacy , along with the basic medical training he and Jaster had, had cleared out most of the patients, leaving behind only a couple with broken bones that couldn't get around under their own power, and one boy with a fever stemming from an infection, who Obi-wan was currently leaning over, one hand pressed to his patients forehead, his eyes closed.

Jango leaned back against the wall and watched as absolutely nothing happened.

Well, nothing he could see. But he could hear the sick boy's breathing getting lighter, the heaving of his chest getting easier. He had no idea how long Obi-wan had been at it before he arrived, but it was only a minute or two before he pulled back, removing his hand from the sickly boy's head and opening his eyes.

He craned his neck to look back at Jango, who jerked his head in the direction of the exit.

Obi-wan smiled at him and nodded, before turning back to his patient and saying a few quiet words. Then he got up, smiled at the Young member on duty, and accompanied Jango out of the medical area.

Chapter Text

“What’s his name?” Jango asked, indicating the medical area behind them.

“Tavus,” Obi-wan answered, glancing back. “He got an infection in an old leg wound. He’s doing alright but… he’s sick.”

"What exactly were you doing for him?" Jango asked curiously.

"Not as much as I'd like to." Obi-wan said, with what Jango had learned to be a very typical kind of response for the young redhead. "I don't really know anything about Force Healing, so I can't help purge the infection or anything. I can just ease the pain a little."

"That's more than anyone else can do," Jango pointed out. "Besides, you're easing the strain on his body by reducing the pain he's feeling. Every little bit helps when you're fighting something like an infection."

"I guess so," Obi-wan said, shrugging self-consciously.

They made their way out of the main hub of the little base and sat down facing it, so they'd see anyone coming.

"What did you want to talk about?" Obi-wan asked.

"Nothing urgent," Jango said easily. "But - important."

Obi-wan motioned for him to speak.

Jango took a breath, then asked, "What are you planning to do after we leave?"

Obi-wan clearly hadn't thought about it, the way he reacted.

"I… hadn't thought about it."

"I figured," Jango said with a smirk. "Look, odds are, every member of the Young is staying on Mandalore, at least until they're old enough to strike out on their own. We said we'd transport anyone who had anywhere else to go, but who does? Odds are, nobody."

Obi-wan nodded his agreement, and Jango sighed.

"Except… maybe … you."

The boy stared at him.

"We don't want to admit it," Jango continued. "But… we don't know what the jetii know about your situation. We don't know if your former guardian left you here with their blessing, or if they think you're dead, or that you just quit under… less extreme circumstances. If they don't know what's really going on here, or what happened to you… they might be willing to take you back."

Obi-wan was silent at that, staring down at his hands, and Jango wondered if maybe he'd already thought about this, and then buried it.

"To be clear," He added, "I do not want you to go back to the jetii ." Obi-wan actually looked up at him, clearly surprised.

Jango rolled his eyes.

"What, did you think we'd ship you off the first chance we got, Ob'ika? Hell no. I think you'd make a great Mandalorian. We'd be lucky to have you."

"Even though I - I used to be a Jedi?" Obi-wan asked, and Jango scoffed.

"Nobody would care!" And then he corrected himself before Obi-wan could finish raising his eyebrow at him. "Ok, no, you're smart enough to realize some of them would. But how about this; anybody who gives you a hard time about that, Arla or I beat into mush?"

Obi-wan actually laughed at that one, and Jango, emboldened, kept going.

"Or buir can just make being mean to you illegal."

Obi-wan snorted.

"Just because it's stupid, doesn't mean he won't," Jango cautioned the boy.

"Yeah, I've picked up a little bit of that," Obi-wan said, still amused. Then he sobered up. "I've been trying to avoid thinking about the Jedi, honestly. I've had the same thoughts you have. Wondering what they think of… all this."

Which meant that Obi-wan shared Jango and Jaster's doubts that his Master had reported the situation accurately. That might lessen the Jedi Order's wrongdoing, but whatever the truth of the matter was, the fact that Obi-wan had doubts only served to further lower his former teacher's estimation in Jango's mind.

"At 13, you're considered an adult by our standards, even if practically ," And Jango used his best impression of Jaster for that, earning another smile from Obi-wan, "you aren't. We can't and won't prevent you from returning to the jetii . I just wanted to tell you that. And that, well, we'd rather keep you."

Obi-wan flushed at that and looked away.

They sat in amicable silence for a few minutes, watching the Young move about, before Obi-wan spoke up.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course."

Rather than saying anything, Obi-wan sat silently, fidgeting.

"Obi-wan?"

"Sorry," The boy mumbled. "I just… I'm not sure what it is I want to ask, I guess. I'm not even sure what I want to know."

Jango raised an eyebrow. "Well, start at the beginning. Maybe we can figure out what you want to ask together."

"It's not anything - ugh. I don't know why I'm so nervous."

"Neither do I.'' Jango agreed. Obi-wan huffed and smacked his leg, and Jango laughed. "What, Ob'ika? You know so many words it'd be a real shame not to put any of them to work."

Obi-wan smacked his leg again, face red, but collected himself.

"You and Jaster have talked a lot about adoption, and caring for everyone when we take them to Mandalore, and I guess I was just curious about… all that." Obi-wan said. "But I couldn't think of a specific question."

Jango considered it. He was, unfortunately, pretty sure Obi-wan wasn't asking about his own future. It seemed a mix of concern about the others and genuine curiosity about how it would all work, but Jango decided he could still make the topic work for him.

"Well," He began, not needing to look at Obi-wan to know he now has his rapt attention, "When children without a buir - and that means parent or guardian, by the way, any adult considered responsible for the child - are brought to Mandalore, they're considered a foundling. There's a facility in every clan to take care of foundlings, providing them with shelter, food, education and medical care. Well, I say facility, but that really depends on the clan. Smaller clans tend to have proportionally smaller… well, everything."

"How often are foundlings… found?" Obi-wan asked.

"Well, that varies a lot," Jango explained. "Nobody really goes looking for foundlings, at least not that I know of. But the kind of work we do makes it fairly common to come across, let's say, children in crisis."

"Really? You do?" Obi-wan asked, all wide-eyed innocence, and Jango laughed.

"Yeah, buir and I are really going above and beyond in bolstering Mandalore's population on this mission. Sometimes a kid, even if they're in a rough situation, still has a family, or sometimes they might refuse to go. Or sometimes there's just nothing to be done. You can't always help. But sometimes - and buir has done his best to encourage this - a hunter will find a kid out on a job who has no one looking out for them, and they'll bring the kid back with them when they finish their job.

"Bounty hunters do this most often, but a dedicated hunter also isn't the best choice to actually raise a child, so they usually deposit them at the foundling center. They're safe and taken care of, and a lot of prospective parents tend to go there even if they can conceive naturally."

"So to be clear," Obi-wan said, "Official Mandalorian government policy encourages any Mandalorian who encounters an orphan in their line of work to keep that orphan?"

"Yes."

They laughed.

"Children are the future," Jango said. "And they are blameless. Wherever they are, whatever they might've gotten caught up in, whoever their birth parents might've been - they haven't done anything wrong. And they deserve the best future possible. If we can give them that, why shouldn't we?"

Obi-wan looked thoughtful, and a little awed.

"That's… incredible." He said after a moment.

Jango considered him for a moment, before sighing, recalling a conversation - an argument, really - he, Arla, and Jaster had all had a couple years ago.

"It's not… It's good. But it's also practical."

"What do you mean?" Obi-wan asked.

"Mandalore is a warrior culture. And there aren't that many of us. We don't have anything resembling the attrition rates of the old Empire but we're still commonly drawn to dangerous professions. Helping children is a good and moral thing to do. Bringing them to a place where they can be raised in safety is part of that. It also bolsters a low population count."

Obi-wan was silent, his face showing nothing of what he was thinking. Jango pressed on.

"Take the Young, for instance. We haven't been lying or basing our decisions on what's politically best for Mandalore. The best thing for the Young to do is to leave. I sincerely believe that. And we're the ones who are here, and we're the ones who are helping, so we're the ones who are taking them away. And they really don't have anywhere else to go, so of course they should stay with us."

Obi-wan nodded slowly, and Jango took a deep breath before continuing.

"What is also true is that this will result in a population bump of a couple hundred kids for Mandalore, give or take. Kids who are strong, determined, hell, kids who already have combat training and experience. And of course we won't ask them to keep fighting, that will be their choice, but whatever they decide to do, we still win. Whether they become commandos or farmers, scientists or merchants, artists or diplomats. Mandalore doesn't have an excess of anything , and whatever these kids go on to contribute will be to our benefit.

" Buir would never have hesitated to help. He also never had to hesitate, because the morally right thing to do is also the thing that best benefits Mandalore. I don't want you to think I'm trying to make us out as villains, or anything, just - you're smart enough to understand this. Prioritizing the care of children is both a moral thing and a practical thing, because of who we are as a people and the kind of culture we have."

They sat in silence when Jango finished, Obi-wan staring off toward the heart of the hideout while Jango did his best not to obviously watch the redhead as he waited for a response.

Obi-wan, he was sure, wasn't the type of kid to stay uninvolved . He wasn't like Arla, who didn't want any part of the responsibility Jaster shouldered. That meant that, if Jaster wanted to adopt him, if he would accept that offer, if, if - then he would need to be prepared for what it meant to be an alor'ad .

And if Jaster didn't end up adopting him, well… What was one weird conversation with someone you were never going to see again?

Even so, the way the silence stretched made Jango uncomfortable, so he spoke up.

"Jaster is the Mand'alor . And I'm his kid, an alor'ad . There are perks and responsibilities that come with that, and part of it is keeping the best interests of Mandalore in your mind at all times."

"I understand," Obi-wan said quietly. "You don't need to defend yourself to me."

Jango didn't say anything, knowing that anything that came out of his mouth right now would, in fact, be an attempt to defend himself. Mercifully, after only a few more seconds, Obi-wan spoke again.

"Altruism is… good. Obviously. It's admirable and desirable… and completely unsustainable. I like to think that most people want to do good - much as experiences on a planet like this go against that notion - anyway, I think people want to do good but not always can. Life is difficult, and gets in the way. You can only donate as much money to charity as you already have, and if you donate all of it, you don't have any for food to eat or a place to sleep. There are limits to how much good people can do."

Obi-wan looked over at him and smiled.

"So honestly, I'm glad you told me this. Maybe it's weird, but I find it a relief to know you've got your own stake in this. I believed you really wanted to help, and then I believed you really could help, but… promising your entire nation's aid at a moment's notice just seemed impossible to me, whether it was for a good deed or not. The fact that you'll benefit from this helps it make sense. It doesn't bother me."

Jango smiled back. "Although who knows how much buir thought this through before offering to help you," He said wryly.

"I think he did." Obi-wan replied. "I think it's like you said. It was both the right thing for us and for you. You don't have to think about a problem for too long if the solution is obvious."

Jango studied the boy for a moment.

"I'm trying to remember what I was like when I was 13, and comparing myself at that time to you," He said. "And I'm just feeling embarrassed."

Obi-wan blushed and looked away.

Jango gave him a second, then cleared his throat meaningfully. Obi-wan looked over at him.

"I want you to have something," Jango said, undoing the straps around a leather sheath on his belt. "Whether you come back with us to Mandalore or not, I think you've earned this."

He held out the dagger, still in its sheath, to Obi-wan hilt first.

"Jango, you don't have to-"

"Of course I don't have to. I'm choosing to."

Obi-wan didn't respond to that, slowly unsheathing the dagger and examining it in awe. It was a simple weapon with no adornments on the blade or handle, but it was made of pure, gleaming silver beskar, and reflected the light around them. It was a long blade, looking even longer in Obi-wan's small hands, almost running from the tips of his fingers to his elbow. He turned it over slowly, mindful of the razor-sharp edge as he studied it with wide eyes.

" Buir says you're not a bad shot," Jango said. "But if you trained as a jetii , then you trained for melee combat, and I don't see your lightsaber."

"I had to surrender it when I left the Order…" Obi-wan murmured, still intently studying the blade, and consequently not noticing the look that crossed Jango's face at that.

"It should hold up to just about any kind of blade," Jango told him, wisely not talking about the jetii any further. "It's made of beskar, after all. And it's balanced for throwing, though you'd better only ever throw it for a good reason." Obi-wan grinned up at him, and Jango grinned back.

"Do you have much experience throwing knives?"

Obi-wan shook his head. "Isn't this too big to be considered a knife?"

"It's a dagger," Jango confirmed. "And so it's heavier, but the principle is the same. How about we practice? At least until buir gets back. I can show you how to care for the blade afterward."

Obi-wan nodded, carefully sliding the dagger back into its sheath as they both stood up, and then, to Jango's surprise, the boy stepped closer and wrapped his arms around him.

Jango's shock only lasted for half a second, and then he wrapped his arms around the boy in return.

"Thank you," Obi-wan murmured, and then they released each other and stepped back.

"You're welcome," Jango replied. "I want you to be as safe as you can be."

"Why?" Obi-wan asked, but he turned red before Jango had a chance to answer. "Sorry. Maybe that's a stupid question."

Jango snorted and tousled his hair. "You worry too much." Obi-wan looked down at his feet.

Jango considered him for a moment.

"I suppose there is something to it," He said. "I don't suppose buir ever told you anything about Montross?"

Obi-wan frowned at that name. "Was that… his friend? The one he had to…"

He trailed off, and Jango did his best to hide his surprise. He had asked, but he hadn't really expected that buir would already have told him.

"Yes, that's him. He arranged for me to be kidnapped by Kyr'stad , to set a trap for buir . He decided to try and kill buir before the trap was sprung, which meant it failed. Buir was badly wounded, but he survived, and he was still able to send a strike team to the base where I was held."

Obi-wan was listening intently, and Jango looked up at the ceiling for a moment before continuing.

"Some of the Kyr'stad members decided I was better off dead than rescued, so when the strike team was carving their way through the facility, they threw a grenade into my cell and closed the door."

Obi-wan actually covered his mouth with his hands, eyes wide with shock.

"Funny thing is, dealing with explosives is a basic skill for Mandalorians, and buir had been drilling me in the basics for a while by then, so in the few seconds I had, I did everything I could, getting in the far corner of the room, throwing up obstacles. Saved my life." He grimaced as he continued. "But the shrapnel did serious damage to my legs. I'm fine now, but I was on bedrest for over a year as they healed. I had surgery after surgery, then physical therapy. By the time I was fit enough to get back into Commando training, I had to start back at the very beginning. I'm pretty inexperienced for my age, you know. I started late."

He did his best to smile reassuringly at Obi-wan.

"I don't want you to have to experience anything like that. Not just the injuries, but being stuck in bed for so long , doing absolutely nothing while life goes on around you… awful. So, whatever edge I can give you to help you out, I will."

Obi-wan looked like he was going to say something serious, then he seemed to think better of it, smiling at him.

"Like throwing daggers?"

"Like throwing daggers," Jango agreed. "Come on, vod'ika ."

Chapter Text

This planet was wretched.

It wasn't hard to see why his Master had liked it. The Dark Side was everywhere here, but he had been disappointed to find that while it was present in everything, it wasn't actually that strong.

Perhaps it was the result of a dwindling population. Perhaps the simplicity of the people's grudge had prevented much of their animosity from lingering after their deaths. Or perhaps they were simply so pathetic that the Force couldn't be bothered with them.

Still, it made for a much more pleasant atmosphere than the last planet his Master had sent him to. An irritatingly light Jedi bastion he had gone to just to prove he could be unnoticed by the useless monks, as though their whole decrepit Order weren't already blind and deaf.

But no matter. He had passed that test and as a reward, he had been given this one. A proper mission. Assassination, and not just of some random loathsome politician, but the Mand'alor himself.

It was a real chance to prove himself, and he had no intention of wasting it. His Master had even provided him with a modest complement of soldiers, although he knew that if he did his job right, they would be unnecessary. Useful as a distraction, maybe.

His eagerness was dampened somewhat by the expected consequences of being sent in blind. They had located the Mandalorian’s ship easily enough as it moved around the planet, ostensibly looking for something, but careful observation had quickly revealed that as a lie.

Their scanners identified only one Mandalorian on the ship, and from the few sightings of the warrior outside their ship they could find, was definitely not Mereel. The sliced records of the contract the Mand'alor had accepted indicated that they had come as a party of three, to hunt an insurgent group. And yet here was one member of the three, alone with the ship, going through the motions of hunting without any intent, and occasionally taking off and setting back down for seemingly no reason.

He didn't like not knowing. The behavior suggested new variables that he couldn't account for. Where had the Mand'alor gone? What were he, and presumably the third member of his group, off doing? Something had happened, but without further information, he couldn't begin to guess.

It didn't matter, though, and his orders were clear. He wasn't here to investigate. Just to kill.

So he would do nothing but watch and wait. Thankfully, all of the activity on the planet was centered on this one region, which contained the remaining cities and population.

Mereel was here somewhere. He would eventually take action, show himself.

And then he would die.

It took them over 3 days to actually locate a suitable comms array, and as they looked at the projected holo image before them, all 3 Mandalorians felt thoroughly annoyed with themselves.

"I saw it," Jango griped. "I saw it every time I went North. It didn't even occur to me."

"Should have realized we were looking for a tower," Jaster growled, not talking to anyone in particular. "Got so used to bases on moons just being a small building and a satellite dish."

" In our defense, " said Arla, her voice coming from the communicator set out on the table. " It doesn't even look functional. They never finished it. "

"Are you done?" Obi-wan asked cheekily. He, Nield, and Cerasi were all lined up on the opposite side of the table, watching them with clear amusement.

Jaster's pad sat in the middle of the table, projecting a basic image put together from a few discreet scans Arla had taken.

The tower, such as it was, was under 70 meters tall, and obviously unfinished. The wide base was complete, but about a third of the building higher up was exposed, a latticework of steel girders with nothing covering them. Halfway up, less than half of the building had proper walls, although that changed at the very top, where what they assumed was the uplink had proper coverings, although parts of the materials were visibly different from the rest.

"They obviously got it functional before abandoning the building as the war progressed." Arla said. "So long as it gave them the link off-world they needed, they didn't care how it looked. They covered up the control center with whatever materials they had on hand and moved on."

"It's outside of the cities," Cerasi said, "So the citizens didn't have to see it in this unfinished state."

"Sure hope there aren't any earthquakes or, I don't know, explosions anywhere near it," Jango commented derisively. "That tower might be sturdy enough for people to go up and down it but it wouldn't take much to topple it."

"They must not consider it a military installation." Jaster considered the image for a moment, reaching out a hand to rotate it so he could examine the exposed beams. "We've been looking for what they used to communicate with each other, and that would need to be secure from the other faction, but what they use to link off-world? Honestly, why would a planet like this care? I don't think I've ever seen a people so thoroughly cut-off from the rest of the galaxy. At least, as far as people who can connect to the galaxy go."

"So they don't need to finish it, and they don't need to guard it," Nield surmised. "If the Melida or Daan had anyone off-planet they could call for help, they would've done so already. Uh, not including you guys."

Jango snorted.

"Speaking of that," Jaster said, "Arla?"

"They're definitely getting suspicious. We're supposed to be an accomplished group of hunters, after all. I've been keeping them from outright accusing me of anything by pointing out how spotty their information is. As far as they know, the area they thought The Young were based in was empty, and they still aren't telling me what their 'insurgent group' actually is. I doubt they'll really do anything, though. They probably just think we're milking the contract to get more money out of them."

"So we take the speeder over there, knock out or dodge the guards - if there are any - hack into the uplink, and call home." Jango summarized.

Jaster was silent for a second longer before nodding.

"We'll have to leave you kids alone for a little while. Think you can manage without adult supervision for a day or two?"

Cerasi and Nield made similar noises of derision and they ended the meeting. Arla signed off, and they made their way out of the little command post and dispersed throughout the Young's hideout, Cerasi and Nield to check on the other kids, and Jaster and Jango to gather up their equipment.

Jaster couldn't bring himself to be surprised, however, when he heard a pair of soft footsteps following him. He stopped and turned around, and Obi-wan came to a halt a few feet away from him. They made eye contact, and the silence stretched between them for several seconds before Jaster broke it.

"Let me guess: you're coming with us?"

Obi-wan, to his credit, wasn't deterred by Jaster's guess.

"Yes."

"Why?" Jaster asked.

"Because I should. I might be able to help you, but I won't be much help here."

"How do you figure?"

Obi-wan took a deep breath before answering. "You don't know what will be at the tower. You assume it'll be lightly guarded, but the reason you and Jango are both going is because you know it might not be. Otherwise you'd leave him here to protect us."

"True," Jaster said, "but how do you factor in?"

"I can be stealthy," and he blushed a little as the corner of Jaster's mouth ticked up into a smile. "I'm not in armor, I'm smaller, and I'm used to getting around without the Melida or the Daan noticing. I could slice the console if for some reason you and Jango are too busy to. And I can defend myself if I need to."

Jaster's eye's drifted down to the beskar dagger hanging from Obi-wan's belt. He hadn't spoken to Jango about the gift. It wasn't any of his business, and besides, he approved. He fixed his gaze back on Obi-wan's face and replied,

"Even accepting all that as true, it's potentially dangerous and you're still a child." He ignored the way Obi-wan's eyes narrowed and kept talking, "And besides, what makes you think you won't be helping here?"

At that, Obi-wan looked down at the ground.

"A lot of the kids… they haven't really gotten over me bringing you down here."

Jaster sighed.

"They're getting over it," Obi-wan said. "With all the food and everything, they know I made the right call. It just stings."

Jaster pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking. He didn't like the idea of bringing Obi-wan along with them, even though he knew the boy was light enough that it shouldn't affect the speeder much. If there was no danger, then it'd be fine, but if there was…

Then a possibility occurred to him, and he looked back at the redhead.

"Hang on," He said suspiciously, "You aren't just saying that to make me feel bad so I bring you along, are you?"

"What? No!" Obi-wan replied, a picture of wide-eyed innocence so convincing that Jaster might've fallen for it - if he didn't already have 2 kids.

"Ob'ika…"

Obi-wan maintained his innocence for only a couple seconds more before dropping it.

"It's not un true," he murmured. "Some of them really are mad."

"But that doesn't hurt your poor little self so much you can't stand to be around them, does it?" Jaster asked dryly.

Obi-wan actually stuck his tongue out at him, and Jaster couldn't stop himself from laughing. The boy was red-faced, but grinning sheepishly.

"Are you really that set on coming with us?" Jaster asked.

Obi-wan nodded. "I know it's probably unnecessary. I just… feel like I should."

It took a second. Then Jaster realized what Obi-wan was saying and straightened up.

"What do you mean?" He asked, all traces of humor gone.

"I'm not sure," Obi-wan said. "I'm not even sure it's anything to do with the Force. But when I saw that tower, I thought… I just feel like I need to go there."

"Anything else?" Jaster asked, but Obi-wan shook his head.

"I know it's vague," The boy said. "Maybe I just… want to go and I'm wrong about there being anything special about that."

"You don't believe that though." It wasn't a question, and Obi-wan just nodded.

Jaster considered him for several seconds.

"I don't like this," he growled. "But - fine."

Obi-wan straightened up, coming to attention as Jaster spoke.

"Grab your gear, ad'ika , and meet us by the exit. And Obi-wan?" The boy had already turned on his heel to go collect his things, but he stopped and looked back at Jaster. "If there's any shooting, you get behind us. We're wearing armor, you're not. Understood?"

"Understood!" Came the sharp reply, and Obi-wan hurried off back to the command post.

Obi-wan took Jango's offered hand as he clambered off the speeder. Without the benefit of armor and a helmet, the boy looked much the worse for wear for their trip across the destroyed cityscapes and empty fields in-between.

"Does he always drive like that?" The red-head whined, trying to fix his windswept hair, and behind him, Jango heard Jaster huff in irritation.

"Well," Jango began, "He's important enough back home that it's expected he has a driver, so most people don't know how insane he is. Only us poor unfortunates out in the field with him-"

"You know, Jan'ika, if you really have a problem with how I drive, you could've asked to drive instead." His buir interrupted, and Jango rolled his eyes.

"You would've said no!" Jango pointed out. "And besides, your backseat driving is almost as bad as your actual driving."

"What matters is that I got us here quickly and safely," Jaster said, putting on airs as he made a show of checking his vambraces. "Any fear you experienced during the trip was only temporary."

"No matter where I am or what vehicle it is, I always end up getting driven around by a maniac," Obi-wan grumbled.

"Beggars can't be choosers, Ob'ika," Jaster growled back.

It was all in good fun, and Jango found that he enjoyed watching the two snipe at each other as he moved the speeder behind the half-crumbled wall of what he guessed had housed the towers construction workers before the project had been scrapped.

He took Obi-wan's rifle from where it had been clipped to the side of the speeder during the trip, handing it to the boy as he came back. Obi-wan gave it a quick once-over before re-engaging the power cell, turning the safety on, and slung it over his shoulders so it rested across his back.

"Is there even any point in hiding it?" Obi-wan asked Jango, indicating where he'd left the speeder. "Anyone looking for it will find it anyway."

"That sounds a bit critical," Jaster murmured.

Obi-wan's face went red, but Jango quickly held up his hands to assure the boy no offense was taken.

"I know that's not how you meant it," Jango said hurriedly, not giving Obi-wan a chance to spiral and start apologizing. "To answer your question, yeah, it'll get found if someone looks, but there's a chance we can do this without being discovered. In that case, we just want to avoid it being seen at first glance."

Obi-wan nodded his understanding, clearly still embarrassed.

"Sorry. Sometimes I speak before thinking." He said, and Jango shot his buir a glare as the man cleared his throat.

"Clearly, so do I," Jaster said, embarrassed. "I didn't mean anything by it, Ob'ika. There's nothing wrong with asking questions."

Obi-wan nodded, seeming a little confused, but Jaster cleared his throat again and pointedly turned toward the tower. Jango and Obi-wan took their queue and fell in behind Jaster as they made their way through broken stone and marble towards the tower.

"See any vantage points we can use?" Jaster asked.

"Some of the piles of rubble are taller than the other piles of rubble," Jango pointed out helpfully. Jaster looked back at him, and Jango could imagine the disappointed look under his buy'ce .

"This is weird," Obi-wan muttered. "Why are there so many ruins here?"

"There have been ruins everywhere we've gone on this planet." Jango said.

"But what was this place?" Obi-wan asked. Jaster came to a stop, and Jango and Obi-wan followed suit, both Mandalorians training their attention on their young companion.

"What do you mean?" Jaster asked.

"We assumed that the tower wasn't considered a viable military target," Obi-wan explained. "That logic still holds. The uplink is only for off-world communications, and both sides use it. There's no reason for the Daan to attack it, so there's no reason for the Melida to defend it. They're so sure that it's safe that they didn't even bother finishing the tower itself." Obi-wan gestured around them to the broken buildings. "So then what happened here?"

Jaster and Jango, now understanding, turned to look around at the after-battle rubble all around them, the dreary scenery matching the other ruins they've seen on the planet.

"It can't have been recent," Jaster said, taking a few steps away from them as he examined their surroundings. "That tower wouldn't stay standing if there were any heavy weapons fire nearby, even assuming it was never hit directly."

"So they built it in an old battlefield," Obi-wan said slowly, "What used to be a town. But why?"

Jango brought up the map they'd put together of the area on his HUD and examined it.

"If we assumed this was a town, and over there was the boundary," He muttered to himself, using the controls on his vambraces to zoom out on the map. "That would put the tower near the center… A-ha!" Jaster and Obi-wan both turned to look at him in surprise.

"A generator!" Jango said confidently. "There must be an intact power source here!"

Jaster's face was still covered by his buy'ce , but Jango could see the look of dawning comprehension on Obi-wan's.

"Right!" The boy said. "The tower is new - newer than all this rubble, anyway. Maybe this city originally had their off-world connection, and after it was bombed out, they had to rebuild it!"

"And so they used the existing generator," Jaster continued. "I think you're right. The tower is probably built on the ruins of the old one. And the generator must be underground - probably under the tower itself. If it were above ground, it would've been destroyed in whatever battle took place here. And they must've had a reason to build the tower in these ruins."

"Which means there must be an underground complex here," Jango added. "If we found our way down there, we could infiltrate the tower from the bottom-up!"

He could tell Jaster was mulling the idea over, and he and Obi-wan both watched him, waiting.

"...If there are more guards than we expected," Jaster said finally, "then yes, it's a good plan. But if it's as lightly guarded as we think it will be then it won't be necessary."

"Oh," Jango said, deflating slightly.

"Don't be upset, ad'ika," Jaster told him warmly. "It's always good to have more information. And it was a good deduction on your part."

Jango was grateful his buy'ce hid his blush.

"Now we still need to find a vantage point," Jaster added. "These ruins aren't stable enough for us to climb them."

"They're stable enough for me!" Obi-wan pointed out.

After a moment of visible hesitation, Jaster nodded. "Fine, ad'ika, but if you so much as scratch yourself…"

Obi-wan's only response was a derisive snort.

Chapter Text

"Do you think this is a luxury posting, or a punishment posting?" Jango asked as the three of them made their way towards the tower, careful to keep quiet.

"Hard to say," Jaster said. "Depends on how much the average soldier wants to get away from the fighting."

"But still, 2 soldiers?" Obi-wan asked. He sounded deeply offended, and Jaster had to smother the instinct to laugh. "2 soldiers, and only at the front door. Despite the fact that there is a back door."

"Now, Obi-wan, there is a camera." Jango pointed out. "See? It's right there. Incredibly obvious and easy to disable. But it's there!"

"It's just rough to realize how bad the Melida and Daan are at all of this." Obi-wan muttered. "It's hard to appreciate that when you're struggling against them."

"The Young were only struggling because of their circumstances," Jaster said. "The Melida and Daan struggled because of how much the war has devolved over time. And how much they devolved along with it." Jaster added the last part in barely audible whisper as he glared toward the perpetually gray sky.

They continued towards the building, Jango in the lead with Obi-wan behind him, Jaster bringing up the rear. All they had to do was avoid making enough noise that the lazy pair of guards at the front of the tower wouldn't hear them, but the base of the tower was big enough that quiet conversation wouldn't carry.

"It's unlocked," Jango announced after scanning the door for an alarm. Obi-wan let out a pathetic groan and shoved past Jango, entering the structure first. Jaster and Jango exchanged an amused glance before following him in.

The low hum of the cheap overhead lights was the only noise that accompanied their footsteps as they made their way through the building. At each corner they would stop and Jango would employ a small probe normally attached to his jetpack to scan the next hallway for any cameras. Finding none each time, both Mandalorians did their best to quietly console Obi-wan as he despaired over his enemies incompetence.

It was, Jaster couldn't help but think, a rather Mandalorian thing to be upset over.

"You think this elevator works?" Jango asked.

They'd made their way around to the front of the building, only 2 sets of doors between them and the guards outside. Jaster wished he could somehow link Obi-wan into their helmet comms so they wouldn't have to worry about making noise. Unfortunately, they'd have to stick to whispering.

"It has power," Jango added.

"Then let's just take it," Obi-wan said. "Honestly, at this point…"

"It could have a camera," Jaster pointed out, although in truth he agreed with taking it.

"There was a camera out back too, and no one seems to have noticed that it was disabled."

Jaster and Jango both shrugged at that, and Jango hit the call button. All three of them stood out of view as the elevator doors opened and Jango's drone scanned it, letting out a single beep upon confirming no surveillance devices. They stepped inside, the door closed behind them, and Jango hit the button for the top floor.

"Wow Obi-wan, how'd you infiltrate the tower?" Obi-wan muttered to himself. "Oh it was tough Cerasi, they left the back door unlocked, and nobody was inside, so we just took the elevator and the guards never noticed. Hardest mission I've been on yet!"

"Maybe there will be a squad of soldiers waiting for us when these doors open," Jaster said in a comforting tone. "Maybe they've been lulling us into a false sense of security and we'll have to fight our way to the top after all."

"Doubt it," Obi-wan grumbled.

"We did note that this wasn't a military installation." Jango pointed.

"So they can't even lock their doors then!?"

Eventually the elevator dinged, and the door opened onto a well lit but empty corridor.

"Sorry Ob'ika," Jaster said, patting the boy's shoulder as they stepped out.

"I don't think this is the top of the structure," Jango said, looking around.

"Can you feel that?" Obi-wan asked, turning left to look down the hallway. "I think it's… wind."

"AC?" Jaster asked. Jango pulled his buy'ce off, frowning.

"No, I think he's right. It's wind." After a moment's silent thought, Jango put his buy'ce back on and once again activated his drone, sending it down the hallway where the wind was coming from.

"Oh," Jango said after a moment, watching the feed from his drone on his HUD. "This hallway opens straight out onto the exposed part of the building. Nothing but open sky and steel beams that way."

"They must not have been able to connect this elevator all the way to the top floor because the tower wasn't finished." Jaster mused. "But there has to still be a way up."

"We could use our packs," Jango suggested. "Go outside, jump to the top, and cut our way in?"

"Or we could use the second elevator," Obi-wan replied, pointing the opposite direction from where Jango was looking.

"Or… that…" Jango agreed, visibly deflating.

"Don't be so down on yourself, Jan'ika," Jaster told him, just barely holding back a laugh. "You're thinking about this the right way. There won't always be simple, easy solutions."

"But sometimes there will be," Jango said, sighing. "I suppose that's a lesson too."

Once again they piled into the elevator, not bothering to check with the drone first, and sent it trundling on up to the top floor.

"Have you thought about what you're going to say?" Jango asked, and Jaster shrugged.

"I don't have to say much. I can give orders."

"Have you thought about what you're going to say to Cerasi and Nield?" Obi-wan asked. "About being - Mand'alor, right?"

"Right," Jaster confirmed, nodding. "And I was thinking I would never actually tell them. Let them find out on the way home. They can yell at me then, if they want."

Obi-wan snorted in response.

The elevator jerked somewhat, and Jaster instinctively shot out a hand to steady the unarmored redhead.

"This isn't as smooth of a ride as last time," Jango observed as the elevator jerked again. "Or as quiet."

"Less stable part of the structure." Jaster said. Then he noticed the way Obi-wan was looking at him and moved his arm off the boy. "Sorry," he murmured.

"S'okay," Obi-wan muttered back, one hand coming up to touch his shoulder self-consciously.

Jango looked back and forth between the two of them, and Jaster could imagine the raised eyebrow his son was sending his way.

Finally, the elevator dinged and let them off. The hallway was short, the elevator at one end, and a single door at the other, less than 30 meters between them.

They walked over, Jaster opening the door and poking his head inside to confirm it was empty.

"You said you thought you could slice this?" Jaster asked, directing the question to Obi-wan, who nodded. "Then come help me. Jango, keep watch."

" Lek, alor. " Jango snapped off a quick salute, which Obi-wan observed curiously as he followed Jaster inside and closed the door behind them.

Jaster beckoned him over to the console, pulling out a datapad and plugging it in.

"We need to make sure we don't trip any alarms when we call," Jaster told him as Obi-wan pressed up against his side to look at the pad. "And then we need to delete it afterward. We probably can't hide the fact that there was a call, but the details and who was making it - that's what's important."

"We might not be able to hide that the call was to Mandalore," Obi-wan said, frowning. "It's got to be an unusual place for this to connect to."

Jaster considered it before grunting. "Nothing to be done about that, I suppose. If we're lucky, they won't notice."

"I'm not lucky," Obi-wan said, so quietly that Jaster wouldn't have heard him if they hadn't been standing so close together.

Before he could say anything, however, Obi-wan stepped away from him and examined the console itself, frowning.

"They did have to contact Mandalore about your contract, didn't they?"

"Yes…" Jaster said slowly. "It was a general contract posting, but we were on Mandalore when we accepted it, so they had to call us there with the details."

"Then we might be able to trick the system and back-date this call."

It took a second for Jaster to understand.

"Oh! You mean, make it look like it went out the same time as when they called us?"

Obi-wan nodded, smiling. "Make it look like a follow-up call or something. It'll pass a cursory examination that way."

"Good thinking!" Jaster said approvingly, and Obi-wan blushed.

They spent another 10 or so minutes getting into the system and going through it, Jaster carefully observing everything Obi-wan did and admitting to himself that yes, the boy had some skill with slicing. While his time on Melida/Daan did explain his familiarity with these systems specifically, Jaster was still curious as to where and how, exactly, a Jedi Padawan learned these skills, and if it was a common practice. But those questions could wait.

"Alright… I think that's it," Obi-wan said, stepping away from the console. Jaster double-checked their work one more time before nodding in satisfaction.

"Good," he said, reaching up and removing his buy'ce . "You can just wait over there, Ob'ika."

"You don't want me to wait outside?" The boy asked, unsure.

"I guess you can if you want to," Jaster replied, amused. "But what we're going to talk about is hardly a secret."

"I just thought… Actually, I don't really know what I thought." Obi-wan murmured, before moving to stand by the wall.

Jaster input the first comm code he could think of, tagged it as a priority call, and waited for the system to connect. Silas, prompt as ever, picked up the call almost immediately.

"Alor," The man said stiffly.

The console didn't have the means to display a full-body holo-message, so rather than his entire countenance, only Silas' head and shoulders appeared in the display, and Jaster knew the reverse would be true.

"Silas. Call an emergency meeting of my council. Everyone available, now. This is time-sensitive, and if someone can't join, I don't have time to wait."

Silas' image flickered, and Jaster guessed he was saluting.

"Lek, alor. Give me 15 minutes."

Which for Silas meant 10 or less. The man never passed up an opportunity to drag Myles and the others into meetings, and he had become quite adept at it over the years.

Sure enough, it had only been 9 minutes before the call crackled back to life and the floating heads of 6 of Jaster's council appeared before him.

"This is everyone available on short notice, alor. Wren is off-planet, and -"

"It's fine, I don't need them for this," Jaster said dismissively. "I need you to start prepping a cruiser immediately. Take the Draluram ."

"Not the Mythosaur , sir?" Myles asked, and Jaster shook his head.

"Taking my flagship will draw too much attention. The Draluram should have enough room."

"What is this about, alor?" Liev Eldar asked.

Jaster took a deep breath before launching into his explanation.

"As you know, I took a contract with Jango and Arla. That contract was for an insurgent group on the planet Melida/Daan. Light on details, and the planets fighting a civil war, but both sides sanctioned our job. I thought it'd make for a good learning experience for Jango."

"What happened?" Myles asked, concern for his friend obvious.

"Nothing, yet. And you'd best get here before something does. This 'insurgent group' the Melida and Daan wanted taken care of? Adiik . All adiik ."

There was a moment of silence, before Adonai Kryze spoke up.

"Define adiik ."

"The leader of this little revolutionary group isn't 16 standard yet, and he's the oldest by far. There are hundreds of them, and I could count on one hand the ones old enough to even try for a verd'goten . And they're fully a third front in this war, fighting against the Melida and Daan in hopes of ending it. And the Melida and Daan fight back."

Silence fell again.

"Then why," Silas asked, voice icy, "are we only sending one cruiser?"

Jaster sighed. "Believe me when I say we talked about it. But protecting these adiik comes first. If I thought the best way to do that was to kill the Melida and Daan I'd give the order in a heartbeat. But it's not. This planet had been at war for centuries now. Its cities have crumbled, its plants have withered - everything of value has been rotted away as the demagolka fight. There's nothing left here for these kids." His eyes shifted to Obi-wan as he spoke. The boy wasn't really watching him, his attention fixed on the 6 council members as they spoke.

He continued, "So we're not going to fight this war. We're going to come in, we're going to load these kids up, and then we're going to leave."

"We're bringing them home?" Myles asked in surprise, and Jaster nodded, glad to hear murmurs of approval from his other advisors.

"To be clear, I won't be upset if you knock over a building or two on your way in, though you'd be hard-pressed to find any tall enough. And if either faction tries to interfere as we evacuate, consider it open season. But our priority is the adiik , and once we take them and go, we aren't coming back. We let these bastards rot alongside their planet." That, he knew, was the only turn of phrase that could forestall any disagreement. Make it clear that leaving them be was not, in fact, a mercy. They would be taking Melida/Daan's future with them. The bastards would be left with nothing.

"Now, this isn't top secret, but try to be discreet where you can. I want a double-complement of baar'ur'e at least, and while I know we can't bring enough for every ad , any mir'baar'ur who can help has my express permission to be granted a provisional security clearance and be fully briefed on the situation. Don't take too long looking for some though - getting here and getting the kids out takes priority. If help has to wait until they're home, it will."

A chorus of ' lek, alor' sounded around the call.

"Good. Silas, Myles, stay back a moment. The rest of you get to work." One by one, 4 of the heads flickered and blinked out.

"How's Jango?" Myles asked immediately.

"Fine," Jaster said. "I knew he played with the little ones around the palace from time to time, but I didn't realize just how good he was with ad ." He beckoned Obi-wan over, and after a moment's surprise, the boy obliged him.

"That bad?" Silas asked, and Jaster nodded.

Obi-wan stopped a few feet away from him, and Jaster, smirking, reached out and snaked an arm around him, pulling him close enough that his head appeared in the feed.

"If Obi-wan here hadn't come to talk to me… Well, I don't know what might've happened."

Obi-wan blushed.

"I wasn't exactly planning on talking to you, you know." He muttered, just barely audible over the call.

"But you did," Jaster said sincerely, looking down at the boy. "You didn't run. You stood your ground and talked and that's made all the difference."

Obi-wan looked up at him, some undecipherable emotion in his eyes, until Silas pointedly cleared his throat and the moment was gone.

"Right," Jaster said, a little embarrassed. "Ob'ika, this is Silas and Myles. I think we've mentioned them both by now. And you two, this is Obi-wan." Obi-wan nodded to them both, looking at them curiously.

Silas, with his tan skin and short, dark hair, bore a passing resemblance to Jaster, although the two of them had never bothered to look into their possible relation, aside from knowing they were both in Clan Mereel. Myles, on the other hand, was a silver-haired Pantoran, although that was mostly washed out in the blue light of the hologram, and Jaster wondered if Obi-wan could even tell that Myles wasn't human.

"You two ," Myles repeated snidely. "We're just 'you two'."

"Yes Myles, you are." Jaster replied. Obi-wan snickered, and Jaster grinned.

"Why is he laughing? What have you been saying about me?" Myles demanded. "Have you been smearing my good name?"

"What is the medical situation over there?" Silas cut in, clearly not in the mood for Myles' antics. Jaster obliged him.

"Not too bad right now. We secured food and water that should last long enough for you to get here." He looked at Obi-wan for confirmation, and the boy nodded.

"Tavus has a leg infection," Obi-wan added. "We've been doing our best, but we don't have the antibiotics to treat him. We're worried he'll lose the leg if this keeps up." There was a wealth of unsettling implications in that, the most prominent being not only amputation, but that the child soldiers would be doing the amputating. "But beyond that," Obi-wan continued, "there's nothing serious. Scrapes and bruises, some stitched up cuts, a few mild colds. Nothing worse than you'd expect given our, ah, living situation."

"And that living situation is?" Silas asked.

"A dried up sewer in an abandoned town," Jaster said dryly.

"Lovely," Silas responded, equally dry.

"Arla is doing her best to distract the Melida and Daan right now, pretending to be hunting in other areas, but there's no telling how long that will last." Jaster told them. "That's why we don't have exact planetside coordinates for you to land at. Anything we give you now could be subject to change. However, there's only one active zone on the planet, so you won't have to go hunting. There's no guarantee we'll be able to use this uplink again, so contact Arla when you get in range."

"Understood. " Silas' eyes flicked over to Obi-wan for barely a second before focusing back on Jaster. "Was there… anything else, alor?"

"No, that's all."

"Guess we'll be seeing you soon then, Ob'ika," Myles said, flashing a sly smile at Jaster before he and Silas disconnected and the call dropped.

Obi-wan shifted slightly and Jaster realized he still had his arm around the boy's shoulder, withdrawing it and watching as Obi-wan rubbed the spot where his hand had been.

"How long do you think it will take them?" Obi-wan asked, eyes fixed on the console.

"A week at most, 3 days at least. They won't have trouble finding volunteers, but gathering up a crew and that many baar'ur'e - doctors - will take a little bit. And I'm not sure what time it was there."

"Silas answered quickly. He was awake."

"That's assuming Silas ever sleeps," Jaster replied evenly, walking over to the door and banging on it once. It opened promptly and Jango stepped inside.

"All done?" He asked.

"All done," Jaster confirmed.

"What is a mir'baar'ur ?" Obi-wan asked. "If a baar'ur is a doctor."

"Healer would be more accurate than doctor, I suppose," Jaster said. "And a mir'baar'ur is like a healer, but for the mind." Obi-wan nodded his understanding.

"What do the jetti call theirs?" Jango asked.

"Mind Healers."

"Oh."

"But the word in Basic would probably translate to therapist. The Jedi's are a little different."

Jaster managed to stop himself from asking any clarifying questions, instead clearing his throat and drawing the boy's attention back to him.

"We're done here," He told them. "Time to go."

Obi-wan fiddled with the hilt of his dagger as they walked down the short hallway to the elevator. He felt… strange. He couldn't put a finger on why.

Jaster and Jango were talking behind him.

"We could go out through the open construction area," Jango was saying. "One of us carries Ob'ika, and we just hop down."

"Why take the risk of the guards noticing when we can just go out the way we came in?" Jaster asked.

Obi-wan pressed the call button and the door opened. He stepped in first, Jango and Jaster filing in behind him, and then they all turned to face the door. Obi-wan was at the back of the elevator, with Jaster and Jango standing in front of him, shoulder to shoulder as they talked.

"Do you really think those guards would even notice?"

"I don't see why we should take the chance."

Jango had his helmet on, but Jaster's still hung off his belt. Obi-wan stared at it.

The hum of the overhead lights seemed to get louder.

There was a faint ringing in his ears.

"We should -...-ast as we can."

"-...-nd't…risks."

The noise of the elevator was drowning everything out, the hum of the lights deafening. The ringing was louder. But Obi-wan kept his breathing level and calm, he didn't feel strange anymore. 

He knew what this was.

He removed the little leather catch that secured his dagger in its sheath.

There was a ding, and the elevator door opened.

Chapter Text

Jaster's next words died on his lips when the elevator doors opened. The hallway was dark, except for the light directly in front of the elevator.

They all stayed still for a moment, his hand drifting down to his blaster as Jango mirrored him, before they both began to step slowly into the hallway.

The exposed wires sparking to his right confirmed what he could just barely make out on the adjacent light panels. They hadn't been turned off. They had been knocked out.

"Okay…" Jaster said quietly, holding his pistol up. "Construction exit it is."

Jango nodded, and Jaster tried to look down the hallway for some sign of their apparent ambushers. Leaving only the light in front of the elevator was obviously intentional. They were in a spotlight, and were blinded to everything else.

He beckoned to Obi-wan to get between them. Then something caught his attention. A little silver light at the far end of the corridor, rapidly getting brighter, and then -

A heavy beskar dagger cleaved through the space in front of him, knocking something from the air before being buried high up in the far wall as the object it hit bounced off the ground before coming to a stop a few feet away from him.

The world was perfectly still for the half second it took Jaster to process what had happened.

The dagger Jango had given Obi-wan was buried in the wall a little above Jaster's head. The silver throwing knife that had been about to pierce his eye and kill him lay harmlessly on the ground.

There was no sound in the world for that half second, not even breathing. Then everything went to hell.

Blaster fire started to rip down the corridor toward them as Jaster ducked his head and grabbed his buy'ce . Obi-wan leapt from the elevator in a blur of movement, up to the wall where the dagger was, grabbing it and wrenching it free, rolling as he hit the ground to avoid the shots. Buy'ce secured, Jaster returned fire alongside Jango with one hand while he seized Obi-wan with the other, practically throwing the boy behind him.

With no cover, he and Jango could only attempt to make themselves smaller targets and trust in their armor, although as the bolts hit, Jaster knew they were heavy enough that many of the impacts would leave bruises.

"Back!" He shouted. "Out of the light!"

He could only hope Jango would think to watch behind them for more attackers, because he couldn't give such complicated orders in the thick of it.

There was no way to tell in the dark whether their counter fire was effective, and Jaster could only pray that none of their attackers' shots would reach their joints or neck. That could very well decide the fight then and there.

Obi-wan was back by Jango now, and when Jaster chanced a look behind him, he saw that Obi-wan wasn't looking in the direction of the blaster fire or behind them. He was looking up .

Jaster cursed before lifting his right arm and firing off one of his few wrist mounted rockets in the direction of the hail of the blaster fire. Whether it would hit anyone or just kick up a smoke screen, he didn't care, as he lifted his pistols upward and began to fire as fast as he could into the ceiling, spreading his shots out and slowly moving them toward the construction area.

His efforts were rewarded with a strangled noise of pain, and Jango took the hint, adding his own shots upward. A ceiling panel gave out and someone fell along with it, hitting the floor hard. Jango wasted no time in putting a shot into the prone form's head to ensure they stayed down.

The blaster fire from down the hall returned in full force, and Jaster was once again forced to flatten himself against the wall and return fire.

He turned to look at Obi-wan, intent on asking if anyone else was above them, but the boy was no longer by Jango's side. He was moving further down the hallway, dagger in hand. As Jaster looked, a second ceiling panel gave way, and someone landed on top of it. Jaster caught a glimpse of red light before Obi-wan launched himself at the newcomer, and a shower of sparks erupted between.

Jaster cursed loudly and effusively. He couldn't make out anything in the dark, and the two figures were far too close for him to risk taking a shot.

"Fall back to the opening!" He barked at Jango. Once they were close enough to an exit, they could start bringing the building down around them, to create cover or, ideally, trap their attackers inside. But if they tried to do so now, the odds were that they would be trapped.

Obi-wan and his opponent were also making their way down the corridor, though whether or not one was leading the other was impossible to say. Since it wasn't safe for him or Jango to fully turn their backs on the rest of the attackers and run, they couldn't hope to catch up to them.

Jaster wasn't sure how long their retreat took. All he knew was that his body ached under a constant barrage of blaster fire, his trigger finger was sore from constant blind firing, and all he could think about was how worried he was for the boys behind him.

Once he registered light - natural light, coming from the outside - in his field of vision, he dropped to a crouch and swung his blasters around to the dueling duo, but to no avail. He could make out Obi-wan better, but the two were still dancing around each other, constantly moving and sending up a shower of sparks with each clash.

He couldn't make out anything about the attacker, covered in black from head to toe as they were, but he could see the red sword more clearly. It wasn't a lightsaber, but instead looked more like a beskad , a regular sword wrapped in wire - or maybe the wire was actually forged into the blade - and it glowed crimson red with heat. It might not compare to a plasma blade, but Jaster was fairly certain that the only reason the dagger in Obi-wan's hands hadn't fallen apart yet was that it was beskar.

They were close enough that Jaster could see the opening to the construction area, so he holstered one blaster and reached into a pouch at his thigh and drew out a stack of low yield explosive charges, and started slamming them against the wall as he backpedaled as fast as he could, continuing to fire with his other hand so as not to alert his attackers as to what he was doing.

Once he'd used all of them and gotten a safe distance away, he triggered them, blowing up a large section of the wall.

The whole building shook ominously, and although it didn't block off the corridor completely, the explosions did result in a nice pile of rubble he could take cover behind. They would need to reduce the pressure from the people firing at them before they could afford to step back and help Obi-wan.

Focused forward as he was, Jaster didn't see Obi-wan's opponent take advantage of a moment's distraction as the dust settled to sweep Obi-wan's dagger up and kick out hard, sending Obi-wan sailing out through the opening, and down onto the steel beams below.

Obi-wan landed flat on his back on one of the steel beams, breath driven from his lungs by the force of the impact. But some combination of adrenaline and the Force helped him to push past the shock and after only a fraction of a second, he was rolling backwards and up to his feet.

He was just in time, as the glowing red-hot blade cut through the space where he had been a moment before, biting deep into the beam.

He staggered backwards another couple of steps, finding his balance on the narrow beam as he looked up to see the hooded figure drop from the building's opening and onto a beam above and to the right of him.

His assailant reached up and threw his hood back, revealing the distinctive horned head and red-patterned skin of a Zabrak. He smiled down at Obi-wan, all sharp, pointed teeth, but Obi-wan's focus was on the same feature he had been able to see under the hood.

The sickly yellow eyes.

"I wasn't told anything about you…" The Zabrak reached up and undid the clasp at the hem of his cloak, before shrugging it off his shoulders. 

Now that Obi-wan could get a good look at him, he realized that his assailant was no man at all, but rather a boy, probably around Obi-wan's age. That hardly mattered, though, as the Zabrak rolled his shoulders, and the murderous intent he was giving off in the Force spiked.

If he hadn't known about Obi-wan, then he was here for Jaster. But he had gotten distracted. At the very least, Obi-wan could keep him distracted.

He tightened his grip on his dagger and glared up at the boy. This was not a fight he could win. The boy was wrapped in the Dark Side and terrifyingly strong to Obi-wan's senses, and Obi-wan was far, far from his best, after fighting this war for months on end. The injuries he had already received burned in the open air.

But he could still fight. So he would.

A long moment seemed to pass between them as they maintained eye contact before the Zabrak smirked.

"This will be fun."

Then the boy was moving, leaping down from his perch toward his sword, still stuck into the beam in front of Obi-wan. He gripped its handle and spun around it, redirecting his momentum toward Obi-wan before wrenching it free and flying up and toward Obi-wan, spinning as he went.

The beam let out an ominous noise when the blade cut free, but Obi-wan couldn't think about that as the boy came spinning down towards him. He leapt back and the blade cut clean through the top half of the beam where he had been standing, the momentum fast enough that it barely slowed the Zabrak, who, as soon as their feet found purchase on the beam, began to swing at him savagely, pushing him back as they went.

Obi-wan deflected desperately with his dagger, no longer able to dodge side-to-side as he had been in the hallway, and the Zabrak pressed their advantage ruthlessly, taking full advantage of their weapon's longer reach to keep Obi-wan on the defensive. He could feel the sting as the blade nicked his chest and arms, shallowly cutting through shirt and skin alike. The wounds were superficial and wouldn't even scar, but given the intense heat of the blade, if Obi-wan hadn't had the Force to help him block out the pain, he would've been crippled and killed already.

Obi-wan knew that if he kept allowing himself to be driven back, they would eventually reach a cross-section of the construction, and his back would be to a steel beam. Once he could no longer retreat, it was inevitable that he would be run through.

Obi-wan had left the Order. But he hadn't forgotten everything he had been taught. And besides, it was obvious that his opponent wanted to fight a Jedi. Obi-wan could give them his best impression of one.

He took the risk of deflecting the next sideways slash up and away, throwing off his attackers balance for a critical moment as Obi-wan threw out his left hand and pushed , sending the Zabrak staggering backwards.

It was an unfortunate fact that his opponent's own experience with the Force kept his feet under him, and Obi-wan knew that he couldn't hope to simply throw the boy off. But the push had created the distance he needed, and he turned immediately, mustering his courage and his strength, and - in a move he had never quite mastered before - put his faith in the Force and leapt.

He sailed up toward one of the higher beams, but rather than gracefully landing on his feet, like an experienced Jedi might, only Obi-wan's head and shoulders made it above the beam, and he had to wrap his arms around it in a panic, to catch himself before falling down to earth. The way he scrabbled to get on top of it was also less than Jedi-like.

His opponent didn't seem to be able to duplicate his feat, and as Obi-wan got his feet under him, he could see the boy taking a longer, safer route, making shorter leaps between closer supports. And that suited Obi-wan just fine.

He slammed his dagger back into its sheath, unholstered the rifle along his back, and opened fire.

The boy's sword was only an imitation of a lightsaber, after all. It wasn't the real thing.

The first shot scored a hit across the Zabraks arm, the shock of it nearly causing him to lose his footing as it foiled his next jump. He turned toward Obi-wan, face a mask of surprise and rage, almost as if the idea of Obi-wan pulling a gun on him in this fight was as bad as actually getting hit was.

Obi-wan kept firing.

The Zabrak jumped back and up to the nearest beam to avoid the blaster fire, each shot leaving little scorch marks along the beams as he dodged. He was now taking a more circuitous route, but Obi-wan could tell the boy was still angling to get up on level with him, and he doubted he would be able to stop them. Still, once they were facing each other down across the narrow beam, and he could fire at point-blank range -

If it hadn't been for the Force's warning, Obi-wan would never have seen the two small pinpricks of light speeding toward him.

He stopped firing and turned his rifle so that it was covering his face just in time as the two throwing knives embedded themselves in the barrel. The gun sparked at one end, and Obi-wan only had a second to tear off the strap and fling it away from him before the old rifle exploded.

Obi-wan stared at the smoke cloud for a moment, his last advantage gone, before he looked over at the Zabrak.

The boy was standing still, watching him.

Obi-wan could make out the vicious smile, even across the gap.

Jango and Jaster's head both snapped around at the sound of the explosion, and they let out identical curses.

It hadn't taken long to realize that Obi-wan and his opponent had taken their fight outside, but they were pinned down by the seemingly endless waves of blaster fire from the other end of the corridor and couldn't get away to help.

Jango could tell that the behavior of the enemies was strange. They weren't advancing or taking any risks. They seemed content to just keep them pinned here, without opening themselves up to any effective return fire.

Could their target be Obi-wan? Or were they just waiting for Obi-wan to be killed so his attacker could make his way back up here? There was no time to really analyze the situation, and it was driving Jango mad.

"This is getting us nowhere." Jaster said over their internal comms. "I'm going to create an opening. Use it to go help Ob'ika. I'll follow the second I can, and we'll fly the hell away from here!"

Jango wanted to protest how dangerous the plan was, but knew this wasn't the time or place, and just flashed back a quick affirmative hand sign. Jaster held up three fingers, counting down, before he stood up, stepped into the space between their respective covers, and launched a wrist rocket up toward the ceiling.

The explosion was small but effective as the ceiling started to cave in, and Jango allowed himself a brief moment of hope that the bastards would just buried under all of it, but there were already sounds of the rubble being cleared and a few blaster bolts from those who had evidently been far enough back they hadn't been affected.

"Jango, go!" Jaster barked, and Jango obeyed, running to the opening and jumping down onto the nearest girder. The whole structure seemed to sway ominously underneath him, and he tried to tell himself he was just imagining the groan of metal as he steadied himself as best he could on the beam. Obi-wan might be small enough to run around on these, but Jango was fully grown and covered in armor. He had to stand awkwardly, one foot in front of the other, sticking his arms out for balance as he quickly queued up a command on his vambrace, before scanning the area for Obi-wan and his assailant.

He spotted the two of them quickly, Obi-wan holding a defensive stance as his attacker leapt - leapt - up onto the same beam.

Kriff, they were the same size. Even this planet's assassins were adiik ?

He activated his jetpack as the boy closed the distance and began swinging his sword viciously, Obi-wan giving ground as he parried desperately, hampered by the difference in length of their weapon's.

Whether or not the assassin was a child or not didn't matter to Jango in that moment, because the little bastard was trying to kill his vod'ika , and so even though the boy heard him coming, and even though he raised an arm to defend himself, Jango kicked out with enough force that the boy went sailing off the beam and slammed into the next one over, before falling down to a lower level.

"Are you alright?" Jango asked, although one look at Obi-wan told him that no, the boy was not alright, covered in shiny red cuts that weren't bleeding because the blade had been so hot, but that would only hurt all the more because of it.

"Jango," Obi-wan panted, "He's a Sith! Or- or- something!"

"I saw him jump."

"He can use the Force to - Jango!"

Jango spun around in time to see the assassin leap up the beam above them, rage etched in every part of his face, before he launched himself down at them, sword pointed to pierce through Jango's neck.

Jango triggered the command loaded into his vambrace, and the magnetic locks on his boots activated, locking him in place atop the steel beam. He registered surprise in the assassin's face as Jango abruptly corrected his balance, forgoing his blasters in favor of grappling.

With his legs locked firmly in place, Jango was able to lean out of the way of the attack and grab the assassin’s wrists. The boy started to move past him, carried by his momentum, but with a yell that was more anger than effort, Jango threw him as hard as he could away from them.

Unfortunately, while the maneuver certainly caught the assassin off-guard, it did nothing to actually injure or stun him, and he adjusted for it immediately, twisting in the air and stabbing his sword into the beam in an attempt to stop himself. The sword still dragged for a few inches, its sharp edge and heat working against it, but the assassin came to a halt, feet under him, before jerking the sword free and glaring at Jango.

Jango balled his hands into fists, resisting the temptation to taunt the boy as he waited for the attack.

Then the boy smiled.

It took Jango two seconds too long to understand what was happening as he slashed his blade across the beam and leapt back. It wasn’t until he saw the assassin’s hand outstretched, palm down, that Jango’s brain helpfully reminded him of the little information he had about what jetii and the like could do.

Then it was too late, as the beam they were on groaned and warped, before breaking along the lines the little shabuir dar’jetii had cut. The beam pitched downwards, and Jango should’ve already grabbed Obi-wan and jumped off, but he hadn’t, so now he reached behind him blindly, grabbing and pulling Obi-wan into a bear hug as they fell, rolling so that he would hit anything first. He tried for his pack, but had no time before he smashed into a lower beam. The shock traveled from his spine throughout his entire body as the sound of crunching metal rang out and his jetpack let off sparks.

Jango managed to roll them before they fell off, letting go of Obi-wan with one hand as he wrapped that arm around the beam, Obi-wan held securely in his other.

His pack was busted, that was certain, but as he did a quick assessment of himself and his vod’ika , he figured neither of them were that much worse for wear.

“Can you make that jump?” Jango asked, nodding towards a beam below them.

“Yes, but Jango, your jetpack-”

“I’ll be fine! Are you ready?” There was no time to do this nice, as he could see that the assassin was already making his way down towards them.

“Yes-”

Jango dropped him, watching him adjust himself as he fell, landing silently on all fours before straightening up and looking back up at him. Jango knew he wouldn’t be nearly so quiet. He hit the quick release on his pack and felt it fall. It was dead weight now, and up this high, that mattered. He swung himself once before letting go, just as the assassin dropped down right on top of him.

He crashed more than landed, but kept his feet under him and activated the mag-locks as fast as he could, keeping his legs firmly in place as he windmilled his arms less than gracefully to regain his equilibrium. Obi-wan stood a few feet away, clearly wanting to help but unsure of what to do.

The assassin dropped down across Jango, glaring silently at both of them, sword in hand.

Jango was positioned squarely between the assassin and Obi-wan, his bulk preventing either of them from getting a shot at each other. Obi-wan hissed something at him, but Jango ignored him, knowing better than to divide his focus in a situation like this. He just had to hope that Obi-wan would have the sense not to try anything.

There was a moment's silence, as they sized each other up, before the assassin shot forward and began swinging wildly. Jango saw the feint for what it was, simply batting away the tip of the sword before the boy leapt back. There was a gleam in his eyes now, a glitter of malice and confidence, and he charged again.

This time, when the assassin swung, it was for real, a vicious overhead slash that might've removed his arm at the elbow if it had landed. But Jango had some of the finest beskar'gam on Mandalore, and had been taught to trust in his armor even against a true jetti'kad , and rather than back up or evade in some other way like his attacker clearly hoped, Jango instead brought up his left arm, vambrace taking the force of the strike, and the blade dragged down in a shower of sparks as Jango shoved it to the side, landing a solid punch with his right fist into the assassin's stomach. The pressure of the blade disappeared from his left arm as the assassin had the breath knocked out of him, and he snapped his arm around to elbow the assassin in the face.

He didn't break the assassin's nose, famous Zabrak durability proving true, but the boy did drop to one knee, stunned.

No, not stunned, as Jango caught the glint of metal as the assassin pulled another of his throwing knives from his boot.

Jango could see what was about to happen, but was too slow to stop it. The boy drew his arm back and jammed the knife in the exposed part of Jango’s thigh, and Jango felt his leg buckle, dropping to one knee as he cursed. The assassin leapt back a pace before bringing his sword up and around in a deadly arc aimed to separate Jango’s head from his body - if the little bastard thinks a single knife wound is enough to put Jango down he’s an idiot - and Jango grabs his wrists, halts the blade centimeters from his neck. The boy may be Zabrak and some kind of crazy kriffing dar’jetti , but he’s still a child, while Jango is not, and when he wrenches with all his might, the assassin’s hands spasm, the blade falls from his grip, dropping out of sight quickly, and Jango throws him in the opposite direction.

The assassin goes with the throw, uses the stupid Force to slow himself somehow, and lands neatly on a nearby beam. Jango ignores the hot, sharp pain in his leg as he glares at the boy, who glares back.

Then the assassin’s rage changed into a sadistic grin, and he raised his hand and - kriff, he was speaking into a wrist comm.

Jango began to look around for whatever it was the boy was calling in, just as behind him, Obi-wan yelled,

“Jaster!”

Jango looked up, and sure enough, buir had finally made it out of the tower. He wasn’t trying to balance on the construction work as the rest of them had done, which was probably a good idea given his bulk, and was instead hovering with his jetpack, looking for them.

He locked onto them when Obi-wan yelled, and immediately after-

Boom.

Kriff.

More explosions followed the first, and when Jango looked down, he could actually see them detonating out from the tower, traveling their way up.

So that was what the assassins had been doing while they called home. Lining the entire tower with explosives.

And he’d lost his jetpack.

Kriff .

Jaster saw the boys at the same as he heard what had to be explosive charges going off.

The assassin's plans had clearly been derailed by Obi-wan, but it seemed their backup plan was to bring the whole damn tower down on top of them.

But that wouldn’t work, because they’d already made their way outside, and-

Jango didn’t have his jetpack.

Jango didn’t have his kriffing jetpack and the whole tower was coming apart, heavy steel beams coming loose and falling towards the boys, his boys, who were stranded together and too far down to get clear.

Jaster caught a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye, probably the assassin Jango and Obi-wan had been fighting getting clear of the incoming wreckage, but it didn’t matter. He was already diving downwards, only making slight adjustments to avoid running into anything as he went as fast as he dared toward Jango and Obi-wan.

He saw Jango pull something out of his leg, before grabbing Obi-wan and fully throwing him at Jaster over the younger boy’s obvious protests. Jaster slowed to cushion the impact as he caught the red-head, but didn’t stop, feet lightly making contact with the beam as he wrapped his other arm around Jango’s waist before taking off again.

The cacophony of colliding steel completely drowned out whatever protests Jango seemed to be making, even through his buy’ce , and Jaster didn’t need to hear them anyway.

“You can’t maneuver like this.” “You don’t have enough fuel for this.”

He knew all that already. So, holding on as tight as he could, Jaster took the only path left available to him and went down .

He used his jetpack sparingly, only to occasionally slow their descent or avoid falling debris as he navigated the sea of plunging stone and metal.

We’ll need to get Obi-wan’s ears checked after this , some odd, distant part of his mind told him. The noise was deafening even to him, and his helmet was packed with padding to avoid damage to his ears from explosions.

Luck and skill only got them so far, unfortunately, and a falling beam clipped his right side, sending him veering off his planned path. It took every bit of skill he had with his jetpack to keep his back between the falling tower and the boys, and another blow came, harder, sending him briefly spinning and giving them all a good look of the oncoming wall of debris blocking their view of the sky before Jaster managed to right himself and see the ground, coming up toward them way too fast.

He prayed, to the Manda, the Ka’ra, the Mand’alor’e of old, and even to the Force, asking it to do at least one nice thing for Obi-wan, before he smacked Jango’s chestplate to give him some kind of warning before releasing him. Then he aimed his wrist launcher at the ground and hoped, really hoped, that this would work, before firing.

Chapter Text

12.

He’d lost 12 of his 30 men, and Mereel had gotten away.

Maul glared at the hole in front of him, an entrance to the apparent underground complex hidden away in the old workers' building for the tower they’d collapsed. Some debris nearby had been recently moved, and he was sure this was where the Mandalorians had emerged.

He had a few of his remaining soldiers sweeping the tunnels just in case, but he doubted they would find anything. He hadn't expected the Mandalorians to have an exit route planned.

There was a lot he hadn't expected.

That the Mandalorians had come to this tower in the first place, an apparent local serving as their guide - that hadn't mattered. Maul wasn't supposed to have bothered with the details of Mereel's mission. He only needed to kill him.

But that child… he hadn't just been some random Force Sensitive. That would’ve been surprising enough. No, Mereel had apparently dug up a trained Force-user, Jedi or similar, in the middle of this nowhere planet, and the boy had foiled Maul's first strike.

It had been frustrating. It had been interesting . Maul had gotten distracted.

Inexcusable. Even when he killed Mereel, he was likely still to be punished for such a lapse in judgment, and he'd deserve it.

Things would be more difficult now. The Mandalorians had no idea how strong Maul's forces had been, and had no way of knowing how much damage they had inflicted, but they knew Maul was here. He would not get another opening the way he had, with Mereel's helmet off and face exposed.

Add to that the fact that Mereel had likely gone to ground, and that Maul had no idea where -

There was a crack nearby, and he looked over in mild surprise at a nearby stone, split cleanly down the middle. He hadn't really registered his own anger as he thought things through.

No one had spotted Mereel making an escape by jetpack, and unless his soldiers recovered a body or two from within the tunnels, he'd have had too much dead weight to make it far weighed down like that. It was more likely that they'd stashed a ground vehicle near here, and had made their escape while Maul and his soldiers were still regrouping after the tower fell.

Infuriating. If he’d had more intel, if he’d known what Mereel was planning -

None of it made sense. Why had they cased this tower and the surrounding area so thoroughly, when it had been so lightly guarded? Why had they planned escape routes? Why had they brought that child and snuck in, when it would’ve been easy to come in with their jetpacks, kill the two guards out front and do… what ?

It had been a communications tower, they knew that much, for off-world contact. So Mereel must have been calling… home? Were more Mandalorians on their way here then? Maybe Mereel had determined this place to be an easy conquest, and intended to add it to his empire?

But even as he thought it, the Force whispered to him that no, that wasn’t right.

Not that he really needed the Force to tell him that. Who would want this wasteland? No, Mereel’s goal was something else, and without any idea what it was, he couldn’t begin to predict what the Mand’alor would do or where he would go.

Mereel had been hired by the Melida. His job was sanctioned by the Daan. There were people out there, on this barren world, who had the information he needed.

They would give it to him.

One way or another.

Obi-wan’s awareness came and went in bursts.

Someone was cradling his head with hard, cold fingers - no, they were armored - and then-

Rhythmic movement, up and down, up and down. Running. Or jogging. But he wasn’t doing it, he was being carried. Each step made his head hurt.

The rev of an engine.

A man, a good man, a kind one, looking down at him, speaking, but - he couldn’t make out the words.

Yelling. Anger. Accusations and blame and guilt and so much negativity, and he wanted it to stop, and maybe he said something, or did something, because it was replaced with shock, concern, hope -

Obi-wan woke up.

He wasn’t sure if he had been dreaming, or remembering, or if he had just been totally out between those brief snatches of consciousness. But he was awake now.

He opened his eyes.

It was dark. There was a sheet stretched out above him like a canopy, and he realized he knew where he was. The Young’s little medical center.

The only noise was that of breathing. His own slow, measured breaths. Slightly labored breathing from somewhere nearby. And next to him, 2 sources of quiet, even breathing - sleepers.

Obi-wan was covered in bandages, and found himself irritated at the waste. All of his wounds had been cauterized, the bandages unnecessary so long as his wounds stayed clean. He could almost hear Jaster telling him that the bandages were, in fact, for keeping his injuries clean, and then pointedly ignoring Obi-wan when he pointed out that if he wasn't moving, he was unlikely to get them dirty.

The thought brought a small smile to his face, and he wasn't surprised when he looked over and identified the two sets of quiet breathing as Jaster and Jango.

Jango was a few feet away from, blanket drawn over his body and his head resting on a cheap pillow. A patient as well then, injured in some way that Obi-wan couldn't see. But his breathing was untroubled, and Obi-wan hoped it was just for the leg wound the would-be assassin had given him.

Jaster was seated between them, back against a wooden post, fast asleep despite how uncomfortable the position must be. Most of his armor was missing, and Obi-wan couldn't decide if that would make him more or less comfortable in his current spot.

He propped himself up on one elbow, grunting as his body protested, and identified the heavier breathing as coming from poor Tavus, still evidently fighting his infection.

He didn’t have time to try and examine the boy more closely, however, as it seemed Jaster was a light sleeper.

“Ob’ika?”

The voice was groggy with sleep, but Obi-wan didn't even have time to turn around before he was swept up in the man's arms.

“Are you alright? How’s your head? Do you know where you are?”

The words came out in a rush, and Jaster was projecting his concern just as clearly in the Force as in his voice.

It was all a bit overwhelming for Obi-wan, and it took him a few seconds to steady himself, just staring up at Jaster blearily as the man fussed over him.

“Hi,” was the first thing that came out of his mouth, and Jaster stopped talking, staring down at him in surprise, before a smile crossed his face.

“Hey ad’ika . How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Obi-wan mumbled, because it was true, and he couldn’t help the faint pout that crossed his features. In response, Jaster adjusted his grip so that Obi-wan’s head was in the crook of his arm.

“You know who I am?” Jaster asked, making a couple other minute adjustments to try and make Obi-wan more comfortable.

“'Course I do,” Obi-wan said, fighting the urge to close his eyes and go back to sleep. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“You hit your head, ad’ika . Nasty little bump. What’s the last you remember?”

“The tower… the tower was coming down. And… oh! How’s Jango?” The memory jolted Obi-wan out of his drowsiness and he struggled to sit-up.

“M’fine,” Jango answered from his spot next to them, eyes still closed. “Off my feet, but I’m alright.”

“Sorry for waking you Jan’ika,” Jaster said, frowning at his son as he made no effort to help Obi-wan sit up.

“S’okay.” Jango replied. “He’d just freak out if I didn’t say anything anyway.”

“I wouldn’t-” Obi-wan cut himself off before he finished that sentence, blushing. Mercifully, neither Mandalorian commented on it. “What happened?”

“Sure I couldn’t convince you to go back to sleep before we talk?” Jaster asked, with the air of someone who already knew the answer to his question.

“I’m awake now.”

“Of course you are.” Jaster sighed. “Well, if you remember up until the tower falling, it’s a pretty short story. I knew I couldn’t get clear of the falling debris with both of you, so I went down instead. Used my wrist launcher to blow a hole in the ground to get us in the underground generator complex. It was reinforced enough that it didn’t cave-in under the weight of all the falling metal.”

He paused, and without his armor on, Obi-wan could read him in the Force much more clearly, could sense the fear and unease and regret coiling through him, and it wasn’t hard to figure out why. He couldn’t have known if they were over the complex or not when he dived. And he couldn’t have been confident it could withstand the falling tower either. Educated guesses and daring risks - ones that had obviously paid off, but could just as easily not have.

“I had to drop Jango into the hole first in order for all 3 of us to make it in safely,” Jaster continued, “but I didn’t know about the injury to his leg.”

Before Obi-wan could ask him to clarify, Jango spoke up.

“First thing we learn when it comes to using jetpacks is safety,” The younger Mandalorian explained. “How to handle malfunctions, aerial attacks - and falls, most of all. I knew how to execute a roll from a drop of that height. Had it drilled into me so much it was basically instinct.”

“But the assassin stabbed you,” Obi-wan said quietly.

“Yup,” Jango grunted, eyes still closed. “So all of my weight went onto my good leg.”

“It broke?” Obi-wan guessed.

“Cleanly. It’ll heal fast and well but… yeah. One leg stabbed, the other broken. So here I am in the med-bay with you.”

“Wouldn’t exactly call this a med-bay,” Jaster muttered, before clearing his throat and continuing. “You also hit your head. Bad landing all around. You were out, and Jango probably wishes he’d been, but we didn’t have time to do any field treatments. I don’t think I’ve ever run like that, carrying both of you. I used my pack when I had a straight enough shot, but my back is still killing me.”

“Sorry,” Obi-wan said before he could stop himself, and Jaster laughed quietly.

“Wasn’t you, ad . You barely weigh anything. But that one was in a full set of armor.” He said, jerking a thumb at Jango, who opened his eyes just to make a show of rolling them.

“I followed the tunnels back to our entrance point as best I could. Turns out the workers camp where we stashed the speeder had an entrance to the tunnels. I tore out of there, tossed you both on the speeder, and took off. No sign I was tracked.”

“For once, his crazy driving was helpful,” Jango joked, and Jaster scoffed.

“I’ll let that slide, but only because I feel bad about your leg.”

“Legs.” Jango corrected.

Jaster rolled his eyes.

“After that, you can probably fill in the rest,” Jaster said. “All the arguments and yelling you’d expect. Arla wanted to come check on us, but we agreed she should keep her distance. Can’t have the assassins follow the ship and find the Young. She’s going to stake out potential areas for the extraction and fill in everyone on the cruiser once they’re within range.”

Obi-wan nodded, as much as he was able to, still halfway in Jaster’s lap with his head on the man’s arm. If his current position bothered the Mand’alor, the man gave no sign.

They were quiet for a moment, Jaster looking out at the Young’s encampment, Jango closing his eyes again. Obi-wan was just debating whether to try and get out of Jaster’s hold or give in and go back to sleep where he was when the older man spoke quietly.

“That was a real fucking mess.”

Obi-wan didn’t respond to that. He had no idea what to say. Jaster’s presence in the Force had all but disappeared, the man clearly making a conscious effort to hide his feelings.

“You saved my life, you know,” Jaster said, looking down at him.

Obi-wan shifted uncomfortably.

“You did,” Jaster pressed. “Saved both of ours, really.”

“Yeah,” Jango agreed. “I don’t think I would’ve gotten out on my own.”

“I… I don’t…” Obi-wan stuttered, feeling his face heat up. “It was the Force-”

“The Force and you,” Jaster interrupted him sternly. “Accept the praise, Ob’ika.”

That only made Obi-wan’s blush worse, and he couldn’t help but feel frustrated with them.

“Well - you both saved me after that. So we’re even and - and it doesn’t matter!”

“Matters to me,” Jaster replied, and Jango made a noise of agreement.

“Stop it!” Obi-wan had enough presence of mind not to actually yell at the pair, but he did finally escape Jaster’s hold, sitting a little away from him and drawing his knees up to his chest.

“I… lost.” He said after a moment, not looking at either of them.

Jango made a derisive noise and propped himself up on his elbow to look at Obi-wan.

“Oh come on , Ob’ika. ‘I lost’? You single-handedly foiled an assassination attempt on the Mand’alor! And you faced down some random dar’jetii assassin in an unfinished construction site and lived to talk about it! You lost ? Like hell you did!”

Obi-wan just stared at him, nonplussed.

“ Ad’ika ,” Jaster said, looking at him intently. “You’re 13 years old, you’ve been fighting a guerilla war for the past 6 months, and you still survived that. Trust me when I say that’s victory.”

Obi-wan was too tired for this.

“I’m… I’m gonna go back to sleep.”

“Good idea,” Jaster said cheerily.

“His ears are fine,” Jango observed, after they were sure Obi-wan had fallen back asleep.

“Which doesn’t make any sense,” Jaster added, careful to keep his voice down. “Guess it must be a Force thing.”

“I’ve decided I have no idea what the Force is or what it does,” Jango said with a sigh.

“Did you think you did before?” Jaster asked curiously.

“Nah, I just did my best to not think about it.”

Jaster chuckled.

“He’s one hell of a kid,” Jango added.

“Yeah,” Jaster agreed with a sigh. “And he’s been through a hell of a lot.”

“Are you gonna adopt him, buir ?”

Jaster closed his eyes. He’d done his damnedest to avoid the topic, refusing to let it distract him from protecting the Young. But he had nothing to do now but wait, and it was finally time to give the matter some serious thought.

The silence stretched for several long seconds before Jaster answered.

“Would that bother you?”

“Kriff no,” Jango answered immediately. “He’s a great kid. And besides, that shouldn’t matter.”

“Of course it should. You’re my ad . It’d be irresponsible of me to bring someone into our home without talking to you.”

“Well he has my vote then, if that’s what you need to hear. And I’m sure he’d have Arla’s too.”

Jaster sighed. “It’s not that simple, Jango, and you know it. Just because you like him doesn’t mean you want him for a family member.”

“Oh please, buir ,” Jango groaned. “You haven’t exactly been subtle. I’ve had time to think about it.”

“And?”

“And… I already kind of think of him as a little sibling. I think about things I want to show him, and teach him… I want to introduce him to Myles and everyone else…”

“Well, Jan’ika, if you feel that strongly, maybe you should adopt him.”

“Oh come on buir !”

Jaster forced himself to actually look over at his ad , to meet the glare being leveled at him.

“Why are you trying to get out of this?” Jango demanded. “Don’t you want to adopt him?”

“Dammit, Jango, of course I do!” Jaster hissed. “But it’s not that simple! I’m the Mand’alor, and he’s a jetti’ad . It doesn’t get to be that simple!”

"It can be," Jango replied simply. Jaster ground his teeth together.

"Was it for you?" He asked, almost accusatory.

"Yes," Jango defended. Jaster looked at him in disbelief.

"Of course there were people determined to make life hard for me," Jango explained. "People who envied me, people who hated me. People who sold me out to a bunch of terrorists because you liked me more than them." Jango gave him a crooked smile. "Yes, being alor'ad has baggage. But you're not just the Mand'alor . You're my buir . And you cared for me, and loved me, and raised me, and that's what matters. The rest of it is… something else. A separate matter."

Jaster stared at him, floored.

"Jango, I…" But he couldn't find the words for what he was feeling.

"I've been doing a lot of reflecting," Jango said quietly. "Watching these kids, what they're going through, it made me think. About what I went through, and the help that I had that they don't have. Don't worry about what's best for Mandalore this time, buir . Do what's best for him."

Jaster felt like he had to swallow around something very large that had settled in his throat as emotion welled up within him. Love, warmth, pride - all making it rather difficult for him to speak. But he managed a smile, before forcing himself to say,

"I'll think about it. Now get some rest, Jan' ika ."

Jango nodded and settled himself as comfortably as he could before he closed his eyes.

Jaster kept watching him long after he'd fallen back asleep.

Chapter Text

Silas stood at the Draluram's helm, bathed in the light of hyperspace travel as the ship made its way across the galaxy to the planet of Melidaan. The blue glow washed over his armor, most of it painted a rich dark green, accented with bronze along the edges, and the Mythosaur skull painted on the breastplate. He had his buy’ce tucked under one arm, his other hanging loosely at his side as he watched the light pass by, thinking.

What little research they'd done on the planet, aside from what the Mand'alor and his ad had already compiled, had been less than encouraging.

The original planet name of Melidaan suggested that perhaps the feud between the two factions was even older than was currently believed, if the planet had always hosted two distinct groups whose names combined to make Melidaan. 

Or it suggested a deeply stupid method the two armies had used to name themselves. 

It was probably the former, but his opinion of the planet's people was so low that he'd readily believe the latter.

Their research into the planet hadn't been revealing in what they'd found, but what they hadn't. The planet had no culture, no art or music, no technology of note, almost no history, aside from their war. Nothing, aside from conflict. It was as dead as a planet could be while still sustaining a population. The Mand'alor had been right. There was no value in attacking the Melida or Daan. They wouldn't be worth the ammunition that would be spent to mow them down.

Didn't mean he wouldn't enjoy the exercise if they gave him an excuse.

"You know, staring at it doesn't make it go faster."

Silas turned to look at the speaker.

Bulk Krantom was the youngest of the captains entrusted with Mandalore’s few cruisers, and had been appointed by the Mand’alor a few years prior. The brown-furred Bothan wasn't what most would consider intimidating , but his crew knew him to be kind and competent, and others, at least, respected that the Mand'alor had placed his confidence in him. His robotic left leg, only partially covered by his beskar'gam, made it clear that he was no novice.

“I know,” Silas said in reply. "Just thinking."

"It's a good spot for thinking," Krantom said in apparent agreement. "Bit public though."

"You think I'm bothering the crew?" Silas asked, careful to make sure his voice didn't carry to the bridge workers.

"Only making them nervous about performing well," Bulk replied. The sounds of boots on metal behind them announced a new arrival as the Bothan kept speaking. "You have something of a reputation."

"Ah, don't let him fool you lalat . He's all heart." Myles said as he walked up between them, grinning. Myles’ buy’ce was clipped onto his belt, but he was otherwise in his full armor, which was painted a mottled collection of oranges and tans.

The slight twitch of Bulk's ears was the only sign of his irritation at Myles' use of his rather unfortunate nickname.

"What's our ETA?" Silas asked before Myles could say more.

"Little under a standard day," Bulk answered promptly. "Orders are to enter orbit and establish contact with ad'alor Fett immediately."

"They're both ' ad'alor Fett’. You can just say Arla," Myles muttered. Then he cleared his throat and said, at a normal volume, "Going straight into orbit seems a bit aggressive. Who gave that order?”

“I did,” Silas informed him. “The council voted to make me the mission lead, given how little time we had to prepare.” There were others above Silas in the command chain, but they had been off-planet, and there hadn’t been time to wait for them.

“They all signed off?” Myles asked dubiously. “Even Kryze?”

“Whatever differences we have with the evaar’ade , Duke Kryze is not the kind of man to stand in the way of a mission like this,” Silas said cooly, subtly gesturing around at the listening bridge workers. “The Mand’alor wouldn’t have offered Kryze a seat on his council if he didn’t respect him.”

“And if it wasn’t useful to have an idea of what the New are up to,” Bulk muttered, quietly enough that the bridge crew couldn’t hear him. Silas only grunted at that.

“Well if you’re in charge,” Myles said, crossing his arms and looking slightly put out, “Then you can tell me why my team is supposed to be ready to go the second we leave hyperspace.”

“Because I want your team ready to drop once we breach atmo.”

“And you didn’t tell me that before, because…”

“I’m telling you now,” Silas said, irritated. “And I was going to tell you when you woke up, since you and your team are supposed to be asleep right now. I didn’t think it would help for you to be keyed up and nervous the whole trip.”

Myles looked disgruntled, but it was Bulk who spoke first.

“You’re expecting trouble?”

“Missions never go to plan,” Silas said. “And given how kriffed up this planet evidently is, I want to be sure we’re ready to protect the ade on short notice.”

“You still could’ve told me,” Myles whispered.

“Oh stuff it,” Silas shot back. "And go get some sleep. A drop from atmo is dangerous. You need to be at your best."

" Lek, buir ," Myles said, rolling his eyes as he turned on his heel and left.

"You two might butt heads, but it still says something that you trust him with that responsibility," Krantom observed once Myles was out of hearing.

"He's the only squad leader fully briefed on the situation," Silas corrected. "It's just easier."

"Oh thank goodness," Bulk said, rolling his eyes. "Here I was scared that you might give him a compliment."

Silas didn't respond. He didn't particularly like being in charge. Thankfully, once they left hyperspace and re-established contact with Jaster, the Mand'alor would be able to take over and Silas would be allowed to step back.

"I'll be in my quarters," He informed Bulk. "Let me know if you need anything."

"Sir," was Bulk's only response, and the captain snapped off a quick salute as Silas turned and followed Myles off the bridge.

Chapter Text

"I'm a better shot sitting than you are standing." Jango was saying as Obi-wan and Cerasi made their way back to the medical area.

"Are not," Nield replied hotly.

"Am too. If you want to carry me over to the range I'll prove it. You're not touching my blasters."

Obi-wan snorted, but the bickering pair didn't notice.

"We need to arm everyone as best we can," Nield argued. "You guys said as much when we were distributing the weapons you brought!"

"Our spare weapons," Jango reminded him. "Our extras. Our backups. These are mine , and you'll keep your grubby little hands off them!"

" Boys ," Cerasi said to no one in particular.

Nield had enough self-awareness to look embarrassed as they walked in, and didn't say anything as he walked over and made a show of checking in on Tavus, who had been watching the argument with passing amusement.

Jango was sitting up, his back against a wooden post, Jaster kneeling beside him, finishing a splint for his broken leg made out of spare wood they'd had around the camp.

"See anything?" Jaster asked without looking up from his work.

"The usual," Obi-wan said. "Grey skies. Broken buildings. Gross sewers."

"We stared at those gross sewers for so long ," Cerasi groaned. "I don't mean to complain, but I don't know if my sense of smell will make it off-planet with me."

Nield gave her a sympathetic look.

"There's next to no chance we would've found any attackers just by going out on patrol," Obi-wan said. "But they might've found us. We had to be sure we weren’t followed."

"If they knew where we were, I think they'd let us know," Nield pointed out.

"But if we stay put completely, we might miss out on important information," Jaster said, tying off his last knot before he stood up and beckoned Nield over.

Together, the two of them laboriously helped Jango to his feet, before Nield took one arm off his shoulder, and Jaster let go.

Jango grimaced immediately, but stayed standing for a second before he groaned. Immediately, Jaster moved behind him, slipping his arms under his son's shoulders and lifting slightly, taking the weight off of Jango's leg.

"Alright Nield - you too, Ob' ika . Help me get him back down." Jaster said.

Obi-wan and Nield immediately jumped to it, carefully lowering Jango back down without putting any more strain on his legs.

"Well?" Jaster asked, concerned, once Jango was again sitting back against the post.

"Definitely not fun," Jango said, breathing heavily. "But it should work in a pinch."

"It would take way too many of the kids to carry you," Jaster explained, as much for Obi-wan and Cerasi's benefit as Jango's, "but if you just need to hobble behind cover…"

"I'd rather drag myself, if it becomes an option," Jango grunted.

"Here's hoping it won't matter," Jaster said.

"How are you planning to move him?" Cerasi asked.

“Our little hover-pallet,” Jaster answered, standing up. “We can use it to move Tavus, too. It’s been quite the investment, this trip. I should really look into making it standard issue.”

“Well, I suppose you have the authority to do that, huh?” Nield asked sarcastically, not bothering to hide his bitterness.

"Oh come on Nield," Obi-wan groaned. "You don't have to be angry about everything, you know?"

Nield rounded on him, but Obi-wan held his ground.

"He lied to us!'

"No, actually, he didn't." Obi-wan pointed out. "He just didn't tell you everything."

Nield glared daggers at him, but Jaster interjected before he could retort.

"You've spent too much time around Republic bureaucrats, Ob' ika ," Jaster scolded. "We all know there's no difference." Obi-wan just grinned at him.

"You don't seem very sorry," Nield growled.

"I'm not sorry at all," Jaster replied mildly. "If I'd known assassins would show up here looking for me, of course I would've said something, but keeping quiet was the right choice at the time."

"It's weird they showed up here." Cerasi said, smoothly cutting off Nield before he could say anything. "I mean, how did they know you were here?"

Jaster shrugged. "They could've followed my ship. Gotten a copy of my contract. Maybe someone snapped a picture of me when I went into town to buy supplies. I'm more interested in who hired them, but even if we captured one, I doubt they'd be willing to talk."

"Speaking of supplies," Obi-wan spoke up, also cutting Nield off and pointedly ignoring the angry look on the older boy's face. "If Jango and Tavus are on the hover pallet, how much are we bringing?"

"We shouldn't need to bring anything." Jaster answered. "If they don't bring enough supplies with them, they can all go hungry on the way home as punishment for their stupidity. Beyond that? The blasters are being carried, the medicine’s all been used."

"I think there's one more case of juice left, right?" Jango asked. "I'm sure we could fit that on here."

"Sure," Jaster agreed, chuckling. Then he turned to Obi-wan. "Why don't you show me the tunnel exit you were talking about?"

Obi-wan nodded, and caught sight of Nield glaring at both of them, shoulders hunched and arms crossed, and he fought to keep a smile off his face at his friends pouting.

"Come on," Cerasi said to Nield, putting an arm around his shoulder. "You can just complain to me, for all the good it will do you."

Nield grumbled something under his breath, but, mercifully, allowed himself to be led away.

"Hey, Tavus, you ever played Sabaac?" Jango asked. Obi-wan looked over to see Tavus shaking his head.

"My sister dropped off a deck when she came to check on me," Jango continued. "Wanna learn? Gotta do something to pass the time here."

"Alright," Tavus said quietly, voice barely above a whisper as he scooted closer to Jango.

Jaster and Obi-wan looked at each other, and Jaster jerked his head away from the pair. Obi-wan took his cue and followed Jaster out of the medical area and toward the nearest exit from the Young's hideout.

"Tavus hasn't seemed to get any sicker," Jaster remarked as they passed by the sentries and out into the sewers.

"No, I think he'll live, just…" Obi-wan hesitated before saying, "He's just been sick for so long , Jaster. Since before you showed up. I don't know if he'll ever really recover."

"He'll have a hard journey ahead of him for sure, but we'll do everything we can for him," Jaster assured him. "He'll be okay."

"At least he won't have to wait much longer," Obi-wan said, leading the way through the maze of tunnels. "When are they arriving?"

"They pinged Arla when they took off, and according to her math they should be here early tomorrow, hopefully."

Obi-wan nodded, and they walked in silence for a few more seconds. "Speaking of, when did Arla come down?" He asked.

"When you were out with Cerasi," Jaster answered. "She's been anxious, as much as she ever shows it. We'd talked, but she wanted to see that Jango was ok for herself. She used a program in our armor to track us down. Showed up at the hideout unnanounced.

"I imagine that caused some yelling," Obi-wan said grimly. Most of the Young would've had no idea who Arla even was, and none of them had met her.

"Oh yeah," Jaster replied, laughing. “No one got hurt. We discussed taking Jango back to the Legacy , but decided against it."

"Why?" Obi-wan asked. He turned to Jaster as he spoke and almost tripped over a rock, Jaster's arm shooting out to steady him. Obi-wan blushed at his stumble and ducked his head so he wouldn't have to see Jaster's grin.

"We know there is a crazy assassin group out to kill us, but not where they are or what they're doing," Jaster explained, mercifully refraining from teasing him. "Since they haven't done anything yet, we probably would've been fine, but at the time we didn't want to risk it."

"What are we going to do about them?" Obi-wan asked.

"Nothing, if I can help it."

"What!?" Obi-wan stopped and turned to stare at Jaster, incredulous.

Jaster's expression was almost stern as he met Obi-wan's gaze.

"Protecting the Young takes priority. We have far too many people who are vulnerable for me to go picking a fight with anyone. If all that happens when the cruiser lands is that we walk on it and leave, I'll be happy."

"But they'll still be after you," Obi-wan pointed out, concerned.

"There's a few people who want me dead," Jaster said dryly. "I'm something of a controversial figure, depending on who you ask. We'll investigate, but I have no doubts this group would go to ground if we get off the planet without fighting them again. The one you fought, the dar'jetti boy, is far too distinctive to be running around in public. I can only guess he was sent on this mission under the assumption that everyone who saw him would end up dead."

"But you will investigate?" Obi-wan asked.

"We'll try, but I wouldn't get your hopes up," Jaster answered with a shrug. "They're not my priority."

"Unless they make themselves your priority," Obi-wan stated, and Jaster nodded.

"Unless they make themselves my priority," he agreed.

They resumed their walk in amicable silence, but Obi-wan could tell the Mandalorian had something on his mind. He was curious, but content to wait for Jaster to bring up whatever it was on his own, and led the way to the tunnel exit in silence.

Jaster let out a low whistle as they reached the end of their trek. The tunnel ahead of them was completely blocked by rubble, and natural light streamed from the opening above them.

The rubble formed a hill of stone, rock and granite, leading up through the opening and onto the street outside.

"What did this?" Jaster asked, taking a few steps to the side to better study the break in the sewer line. "Something strong enough to get through the street all the way down into the tunnels…"

"I've only poked around here a little bit, but I think it was local fighting and small yield explosives. There's no other sign of artillery fire up top, not counting the hole, of course."

"And the explosion presumably blew away whatever else was here?" Jaster asked, and Obi-wan shrugged.

"Your guess is probably better than mine," Obi-wan said. "There's still some partially standing buildings up top here, so I don't think the shockwave was that bad."

"Probably right," Jaster grunted. "How'd you find this?"

"I didn't," Obi-wan explained. "The Young have been based down in these sewers since I've known them. But according to Cerasi and Nield, this was how they found the hideout. They were on the run in this area and found this hole. Went down into the sewers to hide and after wandering around, they found the cave."

Jaster grunted and surveyed the area in silence for a few seconds, before he turned back to Obi-wan, frowning.

"Are you feeling alright?" He asked.

Obi-wan blinked.

"Um… yes?"

"It's just - well, you were just out scouting with Cerasi, and then you had to come out here with me. I could've asked Nield to show me."

Obi-wan stared at him, nonplussed. "I'm fine, Jaster. Really."

Jaster scrutinized him for another moment before turning back to the rubble.

"We need a wide enough path for the pallet," he said. "And a gentle enough incline so no one has to push it. As for everyone else…" he paused for a moment, thinking, before he continued, "I'm obviously the heaviest, so anything that supports me should support the rest, but I'd rather not make everyone climb up…"

"Well we can't exactly make stairs," Obi-wan pointed out, and Jaster snorted.

"Besides," Obi-wan continued, "not everyone has to take this. There are manholes that let out near here. We can move in groups."

"I suppose… Once the cruiser is here, putting together an escort for each group shouldn't be too much trouble." Jaster said, more to himself than to Obi-wan.

"Do we really need escorts?" Obi-wan asked dubiously. "We all know a thing or two about getting around unnoticed."

"Really?" Jaster asked mildly. "You all have experience dodging trained dar'jetti assassin's?"

"Ugh," Obi-wan said before he could help himself. "It's like I'm back at the Temple."

Jaster barked out a laugh.

"Correcting overconfident young people is a universal constant, it seems." Then he sobered up. "But I'm serious, Ob'ika. Just because I'm the assassin's target doesn't mean they wouldn't attack anyone else. Especially if they think it might draw me out. I'm not letting any of you die because someone is targeting me ."

"They probably wanna kill me now, too," Obi-wan pointed out with faux cheer.

"And that's why I'm not letting you out of my sight tomorrow," Jaster said in apparent agreement. "Now come on, let's check out the area up top."

Rather than making use of Jaster's jetpack or the Force, they both made a point of carefully climbing up the pile of rubble, noting spots that were weaker than others.

"Well," Jaster said when they reached the top, "so long as nothing comes loose when I go back down, I think it'll work. Might have to rethink bringing the juice though. The pallet is going to be heavy enough as is."

"We can always have it tonight," Obi-wan suggested, and Jaster nodded in agreement.

The tunnel opened out onto what had probably been a major thoroughfare, with crumbling ruins on either side of it, and more across the street. Obi-wan glanced around as they emerged, but found that he was more interested in watching Jaster study the hole and the surroundings.

“There was probably a building here,” Jaster said, glancing over at him. He indicated the skeletal remains of the other buildings, and Obi-wan realized he was right. There were ruined structures north and south of the collapse, all bordering a road, with more buildings on the far side.

“Oh, huh,” Obi-wan, stepping closer to Jaster as he looked around. “Wonder how I missed that.”

“You were looking up,” Jaster said, amused. “You came at this from the other side, didn’t you?”

“Well, I climbed up,” Obi-wan said reflexively, then shrugged, more at himself than what Jaster had said. “But I see your point. I was only checking if this would be a good exit point for any runs against the Melida or Daan. It was too exposed for me to be comfortable using it.”

“I suppose when you can use the Force to replace grate covers it’s easier to hide your path.”

Obi-wan snorted, but when he looked up at Jaster, he realized the man was staring intently at him, clearly thinking.

“Sorry,” Jaster said immediately, looking away in embarrassment.

“What’s wrong?” Obi-wan asked. “Something’s been bothering you since we left the base.” Jaster squinted at him, and Obi-wan rolled his eyes. “We’re not trained to use the Force for everything, Jaster. I have eyes.”

Jaster chuckled and took a few steps away, looking up at the sky, before he turned back to Obi-wan.

“I know that Jango… that he asked you what your plans were. After we leave.”

"Oh."

Obi-wan hadn't actually thought about it at all since that conversation. The topic made him uncomfortable in a way he couldn't quite understand, and there had been no shortage of distractions since.

"And I know," Jaster continued, “that he told you you would be welcome on Mandalore." Obi-wan nodded mutely. "Now, loathe as I am to admit it, we don't actually know what the Jedi think of this whole situation. We don't know what your… Master… told them about what happened." Jaster made a face as though he had just swallowed something very bitter.

" Mando'a nu draar pirimmur demagol ta'ayl par ba’ji, " Jaster muttered to himself.

"Anyway," He said, clearing his throat, "It's your choice. If you want to go back to Coruscant after this, I’ll take you. But I hope you'll consider staying with us on Mandalore." A pause. "And… if it… matters, I-" He was interrupted by a loud beeping coming from his vambrace.

Jaster cursed under his breath and pressed a button, and before Obi-wan could ask what was going on, Arla's voice came out of the gauntlet.

"Buir?"

"Arla, what's going on?" Jaster asked immediately.

"Bad news," Arla answered.

"Is there any other kind?" Jaster asked of no one in particular, before Arla continued.

"The Melida and Daan are mobilizing forces toward your location."

Obi-wan felt his stomach drop.

Jaster closed his eyes briefly before, seemingly unable to help it, he let out a colorful string of curses, most of them in his native tongue, although Obi-wan could make out a few he knew in Huttese.

"Details?" He asked.

"I intercepted enough transmission to confirm they're both heading your way. It looks like they've both been convinced the other one is moving in to secure that region. Your kyramud’e are good, buir. They got them moving fast enough that by the time each side checked on what the other was doing, they saw each other mobilizing."

Because of course it had to be the assassins. Obi-wan could work out the rest on his own. The assassins had figured out where they were - had probably learned about the Young - and rather than search for the hideout, they had instead elected to use the Melida's and Daan's forces to smoke them out.

Jaster cursed again.

"How much time do we have?"

"If these were elite soldiers? I'd say 6 hours. But based on what I'm seeing, I'd say anywhere from 8 to 12."

"ETA on the cruiser?"

"14 hours."

"We're cutting it close," Jaster murmured. "I hope they're ahead of schedule, but while they're in hyperspace there's no way to check."

"Worst comes to worst, we can use the Legacy to buy time," Arla suggested.

"These people may not have much in the way of ships, but one lone freighter isn't going to do much against an army. We need to get back and talk with the kids. Stay out of sight and keep eyes on them, Arla. Call me the moment something changes."

"Lek, buir . K’oyacyi."

“ Oya ,” Jaster returned grimly.

Jaster pressed a button on his vambrace, ending the call.

"Come on," He said, turning back to the hole in the street. Obi-wan swallowed nervously and nodded, following him back down the pile of rubble.

"It'll just have to do," Jaster muttered, glancing up the way they came, before, without any further discussion, they began to run back to the Young's hideout.

Chapter Text

"As best we can guess," Jaster explained, "The assassins learned about the Young in their search for me after the tower went down. Rather than search this region for us, they've baited the Melida and the Daan into fighting in this area to smoke us out and get a shot at me." He rubbed a hand down his face and sighed. "Which means I've put you all in danger. I'm sorry."

The entirety of the Young were arrayed in front of him. Cerasi, Nield, and their lieutenants sat in front, with the rest of adiik arranged behind them. They'd moved the meeting close enough to the medical area that Jango and Tavus could hear, and Obi-wan sat with them, listening intently.

"Why are they after you?" One of the kids asked, and Jaster sighed again.

"Because I am not just a Mandalorian. I'm the Mand'alor. It's a title like President, or King." That was met with a round of exclamation and whispers, which Jaster allowed for a few seconds before he continued speaking. "These people were hired by someone who wants to dethrone me. They aren't here for you, but they'll hurt you to get to me."

What he didn't add was that the assassins' orders probably included leaving no witnesses, and that they likely included all of the Young in that.

"Why are you here, if you're a King?" Another one of the adiik asked, a little boy who looked to be 7, at most.

"I wanted to take a break," Jaster answered honestly. "And spend some time with my children. We had no idea we'd find all of you here."

The concept of 'spending time with his children' seemed almost to confuse some of the adiik , but Jaster forced himself to continue as if he hadn't noticed.

"My people should be here sometime tomorrow, but they'll probably arrive after the Melida and Daan do." He hoped they would be there sooner, but knew he couldn't count on it. "We've moved the meeting point to near the city limits, as far away from where we think the Melida and Daan will be fighting as possible."

At that, Nield stood up and moved to stand next to Jaster, turning to address the rest of the Young.

"Staying down here won't be safe," He said. "Even if they aren't targeting us, parts of the sewer system are likely to collapse during the fighting. We could get trapped down here, or worse. So we're going to be splitting everyone into 2 groups and sneaking out of the sewers before the Melida and Daan get here." At that, Cerasi and the other lieutenants got up and began sorting all of the adiik into the two groups. Once that was done, Nield resumed speaking.

"One group will be led by me, the other by Cerasi. We're going to move into two buildings near where the Mandalorians are supposed to land and hole up inside until they get here. So long as we don't draw any attention to ourselves, we should be able to avoid the fighting until the Mandalorians are here."

"In the meantime," Jaster continued, "Arla - my daughter - and I will be patrolling the area around each building, watching for any Melida or Daan scouts, or for any sign of the assassins. Stay put, even if you hear us fighting. We can take care of ourselves."

"We're going to leave in a couple of hours," Cerasi said. "Everyone, take this opportunity to gather up your things, and get some food. We can't take more than what we can carry, so eat now."

"Form back up in your groups when we call," Nield said. "Until then, dismissed."

The children dispersed, most of them heading back to gather up whatever meager possessions they had. A small group formed around Cerasi, clearly seeking reassurance. Nield took charge of another small group to go over their remaining supplies.

Jaster watched it all with a heavy heart. The last thing he had wanted was to bring more danger down on these adiik 's heads. A few of them stole glances at him, clearly wanting to know more but were too afraid to ask. He decided to go to them, to offer to tell them about himself, Mandalore, whatever they wanted to know. But as he moved, his eyes drifted over to the medical area, where Jango and Obi-wan were talking.

There was one part of the plan that hadn't been shared with the rest of the Young.

When Jaster went patrolling, he wouldn't be alone.

"Silas?" Myles asked as he ran up to him. They'd dropped out of hyperspace only a few minutes ago, and Silas had ordered him and his squad to the hangar in full armor.

Silas didn't respond, instead just handing him a datapad. Myles scanned it, swearing as he saw what had transpired during their trip.

"This was waiting for us when we dropped out of hyperspace," Silas explained. "And Arla is waiting for our call," Silas said. "There are developments she didn't have time to add to this log, and we need to move fast. You and your team need to be ready to drop."

Myles gave his people a sharp nod over his shoulder, and they immediately moved toward the lockers at the hangar wall.

"You're coming with us?" Myles asked, giving Silas a quick once-over. He had the expected armor reinforcements and attachments necessary to manage a drop from the upper atmosphere.

"Everyone who can, is," Silas said. "I knew this might go bad, but I have to admit, it surpassed my expectations. Go gear-up, and then we'll get a sit-rep from Arla."

"Here's hoping our alor doesn't do anything stupid in the meantime."

Arla turned off the communicator, knowing she and Silas had as much of a plan as was possible. They had used an encrypted line, but Arla had still kept their conversation brief. So long as they weren't clear on what resources these assassins had, she didn't want to take unnecessary risks.

The plan she had worked on with Jaster and passed on to Silas was simple by necessity. It was a miracle the ship was already here, but they didn't have time to set-up an elaborate operation. She'd taken the risk to pass along their current nav points, knowing the assassins probably already have a rough idea, before turning off her communicator entirely.

Arla knew that even if Jaster was the main target, there was no way she and the Young members she was in charge of would be ignored by the assassins, or by the Melida and Daan forces. Jango, too, was in there, along with the sick ad Tavus, and the Young weren't trained to fight a siege.

What was likely to happen was that once the fighting between the Melida and Daan began in earnest, the assassins would bait each side with fake attacks in order to draw them over towards the Young, counting on them to finish their job and dispose of the buildings full of witnesses.

The Draluram had better breach atmo fast. Arla might have played devil's advocate when they first encountered the Young, but there was no way in hell she was going to stand aside and let these ad or her family get hurt.

Obi-wan better be as good at looking after himself as Jango had made him sound. It wouldn't do to lose her youngest brother before she even got a chance to know him.

Jaster cast his gaze around at the surrounding buildings, looking for any signs of life, before his eyes inevitably found their way to the small figure walking a little ways in front of him.

He hated that he'd needed Obi-wan to come with him, but knew that it was the only smart choice. It was a coin toss whether the dar'jetti'ad wanted him or Obi-wan dead more at this point, after Obi-wan had ruined his first assassination attempt. Add to that the fact that the assassin could probably sense Obi-wan's presence, and it seemed almost certain that assassin would have gone after him first in order to draw Jaster out, if nothing else.

Obi-wan was safest here. Jaster knew that. But he resented his inability to protect him more.

“Anything?” Jaster asked, breaking the tense silence between them.

After a short pause, Obi-wan answered. “I still can’t sense him. But whatever he is, any dark-side user would’ve learned to hide from the Jedi. He’s probably just… better at that than I am at sensing people.”

It was the 4th time Obi-wan had said something like that, but Jaster let it pass without comment. The ad was nervous and scared, even if he would deny as much to Jaster if asked. Something about how Jedi didn’t get scared. Ridiculous.

"Do we know when the fighting will start?" Obi-wan asked, agitated.

"By the minute? No." Jaster answered. "But… any moment now. They should be facing off at this point. We're just waiting for someone to fire the first shot."

"Someone will," Obi-wan murmured, almost too quiet for Jaster to hear. "On this planet, someone always does."

Jaster sighed, but didn't say anything.

"Do you think the fighting will make its way over here?" Obi-wan asked nervously.

"I think our assassin friends will make it come over here if it doesn't move this way on its own." Jaster answered.

Obi-wan rubbed an arm in obvious worry. Jaster wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but knew that anything he said would sound hollow.

He couldn't tell Obi-wan his forces had arrived, that if they hadn't entered orbit yet, they would any second, and odds were that the cruiser was just out of sight above the clouds. He, Arla, and Jango all knew, and Jango might've told the ad he was holed up with,  but Jaster had to assume they were already being observed out here. Removing his buy'ce would put him at risk and his vocoder would carry, at least a little bit. For their little plan to work, the assassins had to go forward with their attack, and neither he nor Obi-wan could be looking around for backup.

Obi-wan came to a stop and looked back at him, clearly thinking about something. Jaster stopped next to him and waited.

"Jaster, I-" Obi-wan paused, swallowed, and then said quietly, "I'm scared."

Jaster sighed and stepped closer, reaching out and wrapping an arm around the boy's shoulders.

"I know, Ob'ika. It's ok."

Obi-wan shook his head. "No, it isn't."

"Yes it is," Jaster replied, cutting Obi-wan off before he could say anything else. "Being scared that someone is coming to kill you just means that you want to live. It's normal." 

Obi-wan looked up at him, and Jaster knew what it looked like when a child needed reassurance, so he kept talking.

"Fear is natural. We can't help but feel it, and anyone who says otherwise is a fool or a liar. It's what you do when you're afraid, how you react to it that's what matters."

Obi-wan nodded, looking thoughtful, and Jaster pulled away, satisfied.

"We should keep moving." Obi-wan said, and Jaster nodded.

Maul watched as the Mand'alor and the boy resumed their slow patrol around the Young's tower.

He was well-concealed far above them, and had been shadowing them, moving from rooftop to rooftop - or whatever passed for that in these ruins - and was focusing most of his efforts on concealing his presence as he waited for his opportunity.

Maul had been taught to avoid detection by Jedi Masters, and knew he had the ability to go unnoticed, but found the task complicated by the fact that the boy was looking for him. Him, specifically, not just traces of the Dark Side. For all that he had gloated about walking past fully-trained Jedi, he now appreciated that they had not actually been on guard.

He was still competent, however. The boy might be Jedi - certainly something similar if not, he was definitely trained - but he wouldn't know Maul was here until it was too late.

His forces were doing exactly what the Mandalorians were clearly expecting. It was hardly surprising - the bounty hunters were professionals, after all, and were capable of applying simple logic. Maul needed the Young dead, and the blood-drunk forces of the Melida and Daan were the perfect tool to accomplish that task. The Mandalorians' error was that they just didn't have the resources to stop them.

The one he had fought at the tower was absent - incapacitated or dead, it didn't matter. The fighting capabilities of the third Mando were unknown but irrelevant. No single fighter would be able to stop them. All Mereel had to protect himself from Maul was the boy. And that just wasn't enough.

Maul didn't need his forces or those of the Melida and Daan in order to kill Mereel. He didn't need the chaos of a battlefield. Maul was an assassin. All he needed was an opening. He thought he'd had one, back at the tower, but he hadn't known about the boy. This time, he would account for that variable.

Right now, the Force was all tension and anticipation. Maul was sure the boy could feel that too. This whole world was holding its breath, waiting for the spark, the first shot to be fired. When that happened, there would be an explosion of negativity and darkness that would flow out from the battlefield, a mingling of rage and fear and grief as soldiers started dying. Maul was ready for it, eager for it, and knew that, even if only for a moment, it would overwhelm the Jedi. The darkness would block out his senses for the crucial second Maul needed to act. By the time the Jedi could feel anything, Maul would already be diving. His knives might not be able to pierce the hardened leather covering Mereel’s neck, but his sword, combined with the momentum from his drop would pass through it as if it weren’t there. And as Mereel died, Maul would be free to take his time with the Jedi.

Success on his mission - and some unexpected pleasure. This planet would be well worth the trip. All he needed was for the fighting to start.

Then he would have his fun.

Cerasi leaned back against the stone pillar and watched the others milling about.

They were all crowded together on the ground floor of the building, some sitting, some walking around. Plenty of quiet talk as they worked to soothe each other's nerves.

Her eyes landed on Lanai, only 4, hugging her dirty stuffed tooka to her chest. Koro, 7 doing his best to make his friends laugh. Jana, who was tall for 10, keeping watch near the door. 

Her heart ached.

She had decided against moving further up in the building. Nield had probably spread his group out up and down their building, but Cerasi had little faith in these old ruins, and wanted to prioritize being able to get everyone out quickly over some tactical advantage.

She did her best to look relaxed, even casual. She left her blaster holstered and knives sheathed, and with the way she leaned back and closed her eyes, the kids might think she was dozing.

If things went well, there would be no reason not to. If things went well, they would just be waiting in this building for the Mandalorians to pick them up, and nothing else would happen. 

If things went well, the fight between the Melida and Daan would just be fireworks.

If.

Cerasi couldn’t trust that. Not after years of every conceivable thing going wrong. All she could think about was what the Melida and Daan might do, who might get hurt. She worried the building might come down on them, or that the fighting would reach them before Nield, or that it would reach Nield before them. She worried about Obi-wan, the only one of them out there, vulnerable.

Not alone, though. Cerasi couldn't help but be skeptical of Jaster, but the man had mostly been honest with them, and had seemed reasonable when explaining what he had withheld from them. And he really did seem to care about Obi-wan.

She closed her eyes and tipped her head back, keeping her breathing even.

They had gambled everything on this. That these Mandalorians would come save them. That life would be better with them. Cerasi had agreed, had helped convince Nield - but if they lost anyone? If they lost Obi-wan - how would she ever forgive herself?

Cerasi was fine with something happening to her. But she had agreed to this plan to give the others a future. She couldn’t really picture what that might look like, but Jaster had promised, and she had chosen to believe him. Losing anyone before they had a chance to find out what came next would be unacceptable. She would die first.

And then, Cerasi found that she really was calm. Her heartbeat slowed, her muscles relaxed. And as the sounds of explosions from the Melida and Daan's battlefield started to reach her, she opened her eyes and breathed out slowly.

If things went wrong - when things went wrong - she knew exactly what she would do.

Chapter Text

Obi-wan felt the fighting start before he heard or saw anything.

The Force had been thick with the tension of a looming battle, more so than Obi-wan could ever remember feeling before. It had been like walking through fog, and he'd had to work hard to keep his senses clear.

Now, though, the fog was burned away with the intensity of emotions that came with fighting. The mix of anger, fear and grief was dizzying, and Obi-wan stumbled as it hit him. He could faintly hear Jaster saying something, knew the man was concerned, but he was focused on blocking the fighting out.

Then, all of a sudden, something was pressing on his senses, something different and dark and close , and Obi-wan whirled around, looking up-

Just in time to see a small figure collide with something in mid-air and go flying across the sky, into one of the stone buildings with a great crash resulting in a cloud of dust.

Obi-wan blinked.

"Nice throw!" Jaster called, and Obi-wan turned his head to see who he was speaking to.

From one of the buildings on the other side of the street, an armored figure emerged a few floors up. His armor was dark, mostly green and brown, and he raised a single arm in greeting.

"Too many ad for you to babysit by yourself, ‘ alor ?" The Mandalorian asked.

“It’s an emergency, Silas. Or you know I would never ask you to watch an ad. ” Jaster called back.

“Well,” The Mandalorian - Silas, apparently - replied, spinning a metal polearm in his hand, “At least you found one I can handle.”

"What?" Was all Obi-wan managed.

"You can ignore him," Jaster grumbled.

Obi-wan turned to him, desperate to make sense of everything that had just happened.

" What? "

Before Jaster could answer, Obi-wan heard the sound of a jetpack and looked back up in time to see the green-armored Mnadalorian fly across the gap between buildings and disappear into the one that something - no, someone had crashed into.

"Wait, he's-"

"Going to deal with that dar'jetti'ad ," Jaster interrupted. "And we are getting out of here."

Obi-wan didn't move for a long moment, before he gave up and hoped that this time, Jaster would hear him.

"What!?"

Maul stared up at the gray stone ceiling, struggling to push air back into his lungs as his brain desperately attempted to process what had just happened.

The fighting had started, he had jumped from the roof, and then…

Then something had hit him in the stomach and sent him flying into one of the buildings on the other side of the street.

Someone else had been there. Someone Maul had overlooked.

Again.

The anger that thought sparked in him helped push him to his feet just in time, as a fully armored Mandalorian flew into the building using the same opening he had thrown Maul through.

They were in dark green and bronze armor, and held a black metal rod about 4 feet long in their left hand.

Maul noticed its twin lying on the floor, and realized that it was the mysterious projectile he had been hit with.

“So you're our nasty little dar’jetti , hm?”

The Mandalorians voice was flattened somewhat by the vocoder in their helmet, but it didn't erase the arrogant drawl to their words.

Maul glared at them. His sword had never left his hand, his grip on it so tight it almost hurt, and he leveled it at the Mandalorian.

“Yes, I am. And you're in my way.”

“More's the pity for you then,” The warrior said. “You won't have much luck getting past me, ad .” They deliberately bent over and picked up the other rod from the ground, their posture practically begging Maul to try and attack them, but he stood his ground, not the inexperienced child the Mandalorian seemed to think he was.

The Mando straightened back up, now twirling the rod in their right hand, observing him.

“Well, smart enough not to take the bait,” They said mildly. “But not smart enough to find some other way to stop me. Do you think it's wise to let your opponent re-arm, ad ? Don't you have the Force? Couldn't you have moved it away from me?”

Maul bared his teeth and snarled at the Mandalorian.

“Do not mock me!” He jumped as he said it, angling his sword for his opponent's neck, only to once again feel something round and hard slam into his stomach. The warrior shoved as Maul made contact, once again sending him sailing backwards. This time, however, he kept his feet under him and his sword up as he stumbled backwards.

The Mandalorian had just held up the metal rod and allowed Maul to jump right onto it.

Rage and shame at his blunder burned the hurt from his body and he straightened up, sword clenched so tight he thought his hands might bleed.

“You’re lucky I child-proofed,” The Mandalorian said lazily, letting the tip of their weapon list up and down. Maul could see, now, the rounded tips that had been attached to the end of the weapon. A spear then - no, he corrected himself, a javelin, that the Mandalorian had tipped and was now using as a short staff.

The gall it took to underestimate him like that infuriated Maul. He would make them pay for it.

Their armor was true beskar, or close to it. Maul had been briefed on its ability to block the Force, and knew he wouldn't be able to influence or attack the warrior directly. That was not true of the building around them. And if they were just going to stand there , waiting for him to act, he would make the warrior regret it.

The Dark Side fed on his anger, and he was plenty angry.

He could see the Mando’s helmet tilt in surprise as the ground beneath them cracked before it gave way, and the warrior disappeared through the floor.

Maul moved immediately, but not towards the Mandalorian. He had no doubt the warrior could recover from that with relative ease, between the armor and jetpack, and he wasn't foolish to try and exploit an opening that didn't exist.

Maul had enough self-awareness to recognize that this person might beat him in a straight fight, much as he loathed it, so like with Mereel, Maul wouldn't fight them at all.

He was an assassin. He was trained to hide, to strike where his opponents least expected. He knew how to use the Force to hide himself from thermal scans.

He darted up the staircase. The Mandalorian would undoubtedly follow him soon, but by then, he would have disappeared into the shadows.

The fool would pay for underestimating him with his life.

Jaster winced slightly when Obi-wan yelled at him, and held up his hands in a placating gesture.

"Alright, alright. Short version; The ship got here earlier than expected. Silas is dealing with the Sith assassin, and we're getting to safety."

Obi-wan was looking at him like he'd grown a second head.

"What - you - we can't just leave! That guy will need help, and-"

"That guy will not need help," Jaster interrupted calmly. "And in the very unlikely event that I'm wrong, he has reinforcements on the way. It's a whole cruiser of soldiers, Ob'ika. They can manage without you and me."

"But… we can't just leave!" Obi-wan insisted.

"We can and we will," Jaster told him sternly. "We are the top 2 highest priority targets for this squad of assassins. And this won't be a traditional battlefield. We'll complicate things wherever we go."

Obi-wan looked around them, as if he was looking for a counterargument. Jaster sighed and stepped closer, reaching out and putting a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Obi-wan." He waited for the boy to look up at him before continuing. "Arla has reinforcements. Silas will have reinforcements. And there's still a cruiser full of Mandalorians who will be completely focused on getting everyone else to safety." He could see Obi-wan relax a little and kept going. "I told you, remember? When my people get here the Young's fight is over . I don't want any of you to be exposed to any more danger. Now please. Let me get you somewhere safe."

"I… alright." Obi-wan said after a moment. "Everyone's… gonna be alright?"

"Yes," Jaster said firmly. "Now come on. Let's get out of here."

Silas waited a moment after landing on the lower floor.

Nothing.

The ad hadn't followed him. He doubted they had run. More likely they were trying to lay some sort of trap for him.

He waited a few more seconds, watching the stairs leading to the next floor.

Still nothing.

So they had gone up then.

The ad had definitely been aiming for Jaster’s neck when he had jumped down at them before, and seemed confident his sword would have pierced through Jaster’s neck guard. Silas’ was made of the same material. He had no inclination to find out if would hold.

Still, Silas found he had to reluctantly admit that Jaster had a point. The assassin might be skilled, but they definitely were an ad , emotional and inexperienced. Not that Silas believed his Mand’alor had actually gotten to know his would-be assassin. The man was just occasionally seized by his bleeding heart, though Silas could hardly blame this planet for bringing his concern for children into focus.

He walked over to the edge of the room, looking out over the dusty street below. Presumably, this building had had windows at some point, though it served his purposes just fine that they were long since gone.

He allowed himself a moment of disgust at this planet’s inhabitants. Silas had been born on Mandalore, on a devastated planet with precious few resources. He knew how important every scrap, every workable stone and plank of wood could be. These people had thrown so much away, wasted so much on such a pointless conflict. They really deserved everything that was coming to them.

But that wasn't his focus today. His focus was the stab-happy ad skulking around above him, waiting for a chance to kill him.

So Silas turned around and jumped back through the opening, triggering his jetpack and flying a ways back from the building, inputting a quick command into his vambrace. In response, his buy’ce quickly scanned the building, identifying the main supports. Then he calmly fired rockets at each of them.

The ad would be fine. Probably.

There was a series of explosions, and then the entire building began to fall apart, stone breaking apart as it fell back to earth.

He watched it carefully for a few seconds, before he saw a small, dark shape leap from one of the crumbling upper windows, aiming for a spot on the nearby building. They misjudged their jump, however, and smacked into the stone wall, hands scrambling for purchase and finding none as they fell.

They avoided the worst of the falling debris, but still landed in a heap on a pile of rocks.

Silas mentally updated his score.

3-0

Then he dropped down to the ground and began to approach the fallen ad .

The fight wasn't over yet.

Myles stood atop the building housing half of the Young's forces, scanning through the battlefield reports being sent to him.

The fighting was unfolding exactly as Jaster and Arla had predicted. The conflict between the Melida and the Daan was bloody, and more and more of their forces were being herded in the direction of the Young's hideouts. The assassins either didn't know or didn't care that their strike against Jaster had failed.

The latest communication they'd hacked was about a Melida squad pinned down by what they assumed to be a Daan squad 200 meters east of their position. The orders they'd received instructed them to wait for another squad to arrive, clear out their attackers, and then scout ahead for more flankers. Once they did, it'd be a matter of minutes before they found the Young and Myles’ squad.

The problem was that there wasn't room in the immediate area to land a shuttle. None of the buildings were sturdy enough for a shuttle to land on top of, and there wasn't enough cleared space between them. And with over 100 adiik to evacuate, they couldn't just carry them.

His internal comm crackled to life, and his second, Bryla, spoke.

“Thermals show all the upper levels are clear. The adiik are all together on the ground floor.”

“Should make moving them easier,” Myles muttered.

“The Draluram’s sensors show that the backup squad from the Melida are nearly here. We don't have long.”

“Agreed. Have the cruiser send coordinates to the nearest landing zone.”

“How are we gonna move them?”

“Good question. I'll go ask.”

“Ask?”

Rather than responding, Myles muted his microphone and strolled off the edge of the roof, using his jetpack to smoothly control his descent until he landed in front of the building. Then he walked up and knocked on the door.

After several seconds, the door opened a crack and a child, barely visible, stared up at him.

“Hello,” Myles said cheerfully, slowly and deliberately reaching up to pull his buy’ce off. “My names Myles. I work with Jaster. Can I talk to your boss?”

There was another second of silence, then the door closed with a snap. Myles took a couple steps back, tucked his helmet under his arm and waited.

It only took a minute before the door opened again, this time revealing a red-haired girl in plain, dirty clothes. She had a blaster at her hip and a few knives on her belt. Based on the information they’d received on landing, he thought this must be Cerasi. She stared at him for a few moments before speaking.

“So… you're here.”

“We are.” Myles said. “And the Melida aren't far behind. We need to move you.”

Cerasi straightened, eyes narrowed.

“Move where? And how close?”

“I’m getting possible coordinates now. Enemies are roughly 200 meters, 2 squads. Hard to calculate how much we can slow them without the fighting reaching over here.”

“You can't eliminate them?” Cerasi asked coldly, and Myles felt a pang at an ad asking such a question. Still, he had no time to dwell on such feelings.

“Eventually, we could.” He answered her. “With our training and equipment we could hit and run until they're worn down so that we could take them out directly. But we aren't prepared to redirect them like the assassins were.”

“And the assassins are still out there.”

“Yes. Their focus is still on the Melida, so we should move. I need to know how far and how fast you think you can safely get. The sick and injured are with the other group right?”

Cerasi nodded and looked behind her, thinking hard.

“Show me where to go,” she said, turning back to him.

Myles pulled out a datapad, the landing locations now loaded into it, and pulled up a map of the area. After examining it for a few seconds, she tapped the one due north of them.

“That one. Lots of cover on the way, and there are holes in this building facing north. They're just big enough for us to slip through, so anyone watching the building won't see us moving right away.”

Myles nodded sharply and put the datapad away.

“I'll send most of the squad along the path to keep watch. The rest will harass the Melida once they get closer.”

“Alright. We'll move in three groups and rendezvous in the clearing.” Cerasi said, and disappeared back into the building.

“Verd’ika. Terrible.” Bryla said over comms.

“Maybe. But it's useful right now. Get moving.”

Myles didn't need to assign his unit to the tasks. He trusted them to break themselves up correctly. He had his own job, one they had discussed prior to landing.

The Melida might be ignorant of the Young's presence, but the assassins wouldn't be, and it wouldn't take them long to realize the adiik were moving. Their target would undoubtedly be Cerasi, hoping that eliminating the leader would scatter the others and give them the openings they needed.

Returning to the rooftop, he plotted out the routes the Young were likely to take. He’d need to watch Cerasi the closest; she would undoubtedly be their first target.

Maul lunged with his sword, but the metal javelin flicked around and knocked it away with a shower of sparks. He moved with the motion to keep his balance, but the second javelin whipped around before he could complete the movement and struck him across the head. He staggered backwards, but the Mandalorian ruthlessly pressed his opening, striking him across the shoulder before driving one of the javelins into his stomach with enough force his feet actually left the ground as he was driven backwards, landing spread-eagle on his back.

He tried to rationalize, staring up at the sky as he dragged air back into his lungs. He had already been injured. The Mandalorian had used a sneak-attack even before collapsing the building he was in. It had left him tired, vulnerable. A loss was a loss, but surely the gap between them wasn't this wide.

But try as he might, his brain kept repeating to him, like a mantra, that if the Mandalorian hadn't blunted his weapons, Maul would've been dead several times over by now.

“You're tough, ad’ika .” The Mandalorian drawled from somewhere above him. “We can stop whenever you want. Just have to say the word.”

The condescending tone was all the motivation Maul needed to get back to his feet, snarling as fiercely as he could.

The Mandalorian was wearing their helmet, but Maul felt sure they were grinning as they dropped back into a ready stance.

“What's your name?” Maul growled, assuming his own ready stance.

“You first, ad’ika. ”

Maul hadn't realized that it was possible to hear a smirk.

“Maul.” He bit out.

The Mandalorian snorted. “Suits you. I'm Silas, of House Mereel. Melee combat instructor to the ori’ramikad’e . Whenever you're ready.”

Maul growled and tightened his grip on his sword.

A moment of stillness passed.

And then he lunged again.

Cerasi kept looking around them as she ushered the stragglers through the narrow streets of the old city.

She felt stupid for not choosing their original hiding spot better. Of course there hadn't been space for a shuttle to land, and of course the rotting old buildings couldn’t be trusted to hold a ship.

Rationally she knew that they had all failed to think about it, the Mandalorians included, because they had been stressed, and short on time. But it still annoyed her. It was just one more problem that could have been avoided. Now, instead of being safely aboard the Mandalorian ships, like Nield’s group must be, they were out here, exposed, even just for the short trip to the landing zone.

Most of her group should have reached the clearing by now, but she had stayed back to shepherd along the stragglers.

There were 3. Tana, Jud, and little Lanai, holding her stuffed tooka in one hand and rubbing at her eyes with the other. She waved the other 2 ahead with a smile before reaching down to take Lanai’s free hand and starting to walk with her.

“Come on Lala, only a little bit to go,” Cerasi told her, trying her best to sound encouraging.

“I'm tired…” Lanai mumbled, doing her best to rub at her face with the hand still holding her tooka.

“I know.”

“My feet hurt.”

“I know, little one. But it's not much farther now. Then we'll be warm, and safe. They'll have lots of food and a big old bed for you to sleep on!”

“What's a bed?” Lanai asked.

“It's like a big pillow, just for you to sleep on. And it comes with more pillows, and blankets…”

Lanai didn't respond, and Cerasi let the silence stretch as they walked.

She considered simply picking Lanai up. They'd move faster, but not that much. She wasn't very strong. They'd make a bigger target, but it would be easier to get Lanai to safety if they were attacked…

She looked around to see if she could spot one of the Mandalorians. Surely one of them could simply pick Lanai up and fly her to the shuttle, freeing Cerasi up to jog the rest of the way by herself.

“Is Mr. Mer… Mer… Merl gonna be there?” Lanai asked. “I liked his stories.”

“I'm sure he'll tell you more if you want,” Cerasi told her. “Or someone else will.”

Before she could say anything else, she heard the sound she had to come to recognize as a jetpack approaching.

She craned her neck around to see one of the Mandalorians - Myles, by the armor - barreling through the sky toward them. Something about his speed was worrying, and her stomach dropped. She grabbed Lanai and pulled her in close to shield her.

Myles landed with such force that the ground beneath his boots cracked, and before Cerasi could even react, he dove toward them, a blue, circular shield flaring to life on his arm as he threw himself on top of them just as a hail of blasterfire reached them.

Lanai let out a cry of fear and Cerasi hugged her tight. The ground around them became peppered with black scorch marks as her ears were filled with the twin sounds of the blaster bolts hitting the energy shield and bouncing off of Myles' armor.

“Hold on to her!” Myles yelled.

“Ok!” Was all Cerasi managed in reply, feeling Myles' arm go around them and squeeze, before he activated his jetpack and shot off towards cover.

“Miki!” Lanai cried, and Cerasi looked to see the dirty stuffed Tooka on the ground.

Then, to her amazement, another Mandalorian dropped from the sky onto the spot they'd just vacated, blue energy shield held up over their head. They scooped up the stuffed Tooka and took off again to join them behind their meager cover.

“Bryla, are you crazy!?” Myles yelled, but the other Mandalorian - Bryla, apparently - ignored him, crouching low behind cover and holding out the Tooka to Lanai, who snatched it immediately and hugged it to her chest.

Cerasi was spared from wondering just what was wrong with Mandalorians by a whistling noise, followed by an explosion. She looked over to see fire and smoke erupting from the building the blaster fire had come from. 2 more Mandalorians descended from above and dropped into the building, evidently to sweep it for any enemies they might have missed.

“Come here, ad’ika ,” Bryla was saying to Lanai. “Let's get you out of here.” Lanai was still hugging her tooka to her chest, but hesitantly reached out and took Bryla’s offered hand.

Bryla led her a few steps away, before crouching down and speaking to her quietly. Whatever the Mandalorian said evidently worked, as Lanai allowed herself to be picked up. The Mandalorian promptly took off, sailing up and away towards the landing zone. 

Myles shook his head.

“I promise we aren't all that crazy,” he said. “Jumping into live fire to grab a stuffed animal, I swear…”

“It was pretty stupid,” Cerasi agreed, laughing a little in spite of herself. “But I’m glad she did.”

Myles chuckled. “Everyone else is accounted for at the landing zone. You're the last one.”

Cerasi let out a sigh of relief and sat down.

“I can escort you there, or I can carry you and jet over.” Myles told her. “Your choice.”