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batsutousaiTitle: Haat'Mand'alor be Yaim'ol
Fandom: Star Wars
Author: Batsutousai
Rating: Mature
Pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Jaster Mereel
Warnings: Time travel, canon-typical violence, fix-it (apparently), not everyone dies/some live, the Kaminoans are the worst, Jaster is the Mand'alor we deserve, character death, the clones deserve better, Jaster has 3 million grandkids, mental manipulation, Mandalorian culture, Mandalorian morality, an excessive amount of murder (of Kaminoans), Jedi culture respected, Jango needs a hug, Rex needs a hug, Fox needs a hug, EVERYONE GETS A HUG (except the Kaminoans), asexual Jango, nonbinary clones, trans clones, polyamory mention, disabled characters, happy ending
Summary: Jaster Mereel doesn't die on Korda VI, but is instead thrust forward thirty years to Kamino.
A/N: Palpafuckertine arrives.
There are a number of character deaths in this chapter, including two canon characters. One should be obvious, on account of the happy ending tag, but the other is not. For those who need specific warnings, please jump to the closing author's note.
There are also some slightly graphic descriptions of some of the dead and wounded. I've added a link that should let you jump over what I consider the worst of it. If people think I need to add another jump, let me know and I can do that.
Other than that, remember the eventual happy ending tag and good luck?
Their wait was not a short one, not that any of them seemed to have suspected it would be.
Ekun—zie/hir, zie had said without Jaster having to ask—was extremely personable, and also—Jaster eventually realised—much sharper than zie at first seemed. Zie enjoyed telling Jaster about the Jet'yaim, while Obi-Wan checked in with all of the various groups and Yoda and Zeblax very seriously discussed what sounded like a garden plot.
Ekun eventually admitted—after the third time zie attempted to sidetrack Jaster from the topic, and the first time zie had failed—that zie was an investigator, tapped for the mission as much due to being in the right place at the right time, as because zie was considered one of the best slicers among the mission-capable jedi. (Most of their slicers, it turned out, remained on Coruscanta, either protecting the Jet'yaim's systems from outside slicers, or were loaned to the Senate or Coruscanta's understaffed public services force.)
"If I hadn't been the only Investigator in Temple who was both without a current mission and not on any sort of medical restrictions, I wouldn't have been tapped for this," Ekun said. "From what Knight Kenobi told the Council during his last contact before we left, we had evidence of one sith on Coruscant, and the potential for another one on their way to Kamino, who we had no hope of beating here, so the Council wasn't prioritising sending duellists out here. Especially since Kenobi was already here, and we had Yoda."
"And there's a small army of Mandalorians," Jaster couldn't resist pointing out.
"And your Mandalorians, yes," zie agreed with clear amusement. "Apologies for the slight."
"I forgive you."
Obi-Wan folded himself gracefully down to the floor next to Jaster, smiling that particular smile that meant he had mischief in mind. "Knight Uzoma, I do hope you're not being too charming. The last thing we need is the Mand'alor joining your list of broken hearts."
Ekun pressed a hand to hir chest and rocked back, as though struck. "Knight Kenobi, how you wound me. To imply it is my own fault that–"
"I don't think you're being half dramatic enough," Zeblax called.
"Kriff, you're right. Wait, let me get my eyedrops out for the tears," zie said, reaching into one of the pouches on their belt.
Yoda cackled.
Ekun left off hir belt and winked at Jaster, then flashed a pearly-white smile at Obi-Wan. "I wouldn't talk if I were you, Obi-Wan; you may have missed who won the last eight Temple-wide Most Karkable Knight rankings–"
"Don't remind me," Obi-Wan complained. "Do you have any idea how much shit Quin gives me for that?"
Ekun laughed, the sound bright and delighted.
Jaster raised an eyebrow at his riduur. "Ob'ika, is there a line of potential suitors waiting for you back on Coruscanta that you forgot to warn me about?" he enquired, mostly teasing.
Obi-Wan huffed and shook his head, while Ekun and Yoda both laughed, and Zeblax let out a delicate-sounding snort. "No. The rankings are something the padawans do every year; one category for the knights, one for the masters, and one for councillors. Ekun's just jealous because zie'd held the top spot for the knights since zie passed hir Trials three years before me."
"As soon as our pretty little sith-slayer–"
Obi-Wan groaned and hid his flushing face in his hands, which was adorable, and Jaster somehow hadn't realised that, if Obi-Wan considered the whole the the Jet'tsad his family, that meant a very large number of them would be comfortable teasing the kriff out of him.
"–here lost his braid, all of the padawans had a new favourite. We tied for two years—rumour is you were bribing your crèchemates to vote against you," Ekun added gleefully, and hir grin widened when Obi-Wan groaned again. "And then Obi-Wan kicked me out of first place, and I've been stuck in second ever since."
Yoda hummed and said, "A master, soon enough, Obi-Wan will be."
"Master, please," Obi-Wan moaned.
"Oh, I know. I'm looking forward to taking the top of the rankings again," Ekun agreed cheerfully.
"Assuming the Council doesn't consider you assisting in the fight against the sith as a sign of mastery," Zeblax commented in an unassuming tone.
Ekun and Obi-Wan traded horrified looks, while Yoda cackled again.
Jaster let himself relax his posture, leaning towards Obi-Wan, and was warmed when his riduur immediately slid closer, placing his hand over Jaster's on the ground between them, fingers slotting between Jaster's. It was...nice, getting to see Obi-Wan with his family, comfortable and cheerful, despite the grimness that didn't quite leave any of their eyes. Seeing Obi-Wan with the clones and with Anakin had been its own brand of heart-warmingly precious, but there was something soothing about the jedi relaxing around him enough to joke and tease.
He did wonder, as Zeblax continued to tease the two knights, if Mando'ade would be more willing to forgive the Jet'tsad for their part in the Dral'Han and Galidraan, if they could see them like this. It was, he had found, much harder to distain someone you had found a way to connect with, even if it was just a shared favourite food or discovering you spoke the same language.
Family was just as important to jedi as it was to Mando'ade, it seemed, they just had different ideas of how big a family could be.
(Given how many bu'ade Jaster now had, he was finding himself understanding the jedi viewpoint much better.)
"If Palpatine's plan is to make us crazy with the waiting, it's working," Ekun muttered sometime during the middle of the night cycle.
Zie was playing some sort of game on a small, handheld device zie had taken from a belt pouch, and had seemed intent on it, but it apparently didn't take as much focus as Jaster had assumed.
He glanced down at where Obi-Wan's head was pillowed in his lap—it had taken him almost an hour to convince his riduur to lay down, and another nearly two hours of massaging his scalp and playing with his hair, before he'd finally given in to the way his body had clearly been demanding sleep; Jaster would be damned if he woke him up—and murmured, "The impression I'd received was that you were already there."
Ekun snorted and dropped hir handheld device into hir lap, reaching up to rub at hir eyes, then glanced over at where Zeblax had wrapped herself up in a cloak and fallen asleep on a sofa, Yoda either sleeping or meditating next to her. "It almost makes sense, it being Palpatine," zie whispered.
Jaster frowned at that. "How so?"
Zie eyed him for a moment, then offered a humourless smile and nodded down at Obi-Wan. "He killed the last sith that popped their head out of the darkness, you know?" Jaster nodded; Obi-Wan had never said as much, but he was perfectly capable of picking up the various hints dropped. "Soon as he was knighted, he started getting requested by the Senate for missions, hard ones, often, or ones that were missing critical information.
"Master Vos—Quinlan—I've worked with him a few times, when he was in deep cover, and his first question, after any new orders from the Council, is always asking after Obi-Wan. Vos seems to think he can't take care of himself." Zie snorted. "I've read some of his mission reports, though, and Obi-Wan clearly inherited some of his former master's, ah, unconventional ways of tackling missions, because he pulls shit that no one else would ever dream of, and then it kriffing works.
"I just figured, you know, maybe the Senate kept naming him for those impossible missions because he's just that good. But missions for the Order go through the chancellor's office; maybe, Palpatine's been trying to kill him this whole time. Except, he keeps failing. Has to piss him off."
Jaster felt a chill go down his spine at the thought, and he was twice as glad, now, that Jango had loaned Obi-Wan beskar'gam, wished there was a way to get him into the full set, so he could have that extra protection, that his chest wasn't such an easy target for a stab.
"Cyare?" Obi-Wan mumbled, head turning in his lap so one sleepy pale eye could squint up at him.
Jaster realised his hand in Obi-Wan's hair had clenched into a tight fist, and he forced it to loosen, to continue combing through his riduur's soft red hair. "Everything's fine. Go back to sleep," he murmured, speaking in Mando'a almost without realising it.
Obi-Wan grunted and his eye fell shut again. "Upset," he mumbled.
Upset?
Obi-Wan let out a sleepy hum and one hand jerkily came up to pat Jaster's leg. "Your grandchildren, I'll keep them safe."
"They're your grandchildren, too," Jaster reminded him.
"Can't watch any more of my children die," Obi-Wan mumbled.
Jaster stiffened, because what the kriff?
"Safe they are, Obi-Wan," Yoda called quietly. "Saved them, you did."
"Safe," Obi-Wan mumbled and, by all appearances, went back to sleep.
Jaster turned his head to stare at his riduur's great-grandmaster, in turns horrified and worried.
Yoda grunted and made a show of turning his head away. "My story to tell, it is not."
Jaster desperately wanted to shoot something.
"And, on that cheerful note," Ekun muttered, shoving hir handheld device back into the belt pouch zie had originally pulled it from, "I'm going to follow Master Zeblax's lead and get some sleep."
And then, zie yanked hir cloak from where zie'd dropped it earlier, and draped it over hirself, then leant back against the wall and closed zie eyes.
Jaster was almost getting used to feeling like everyone else around him knew something important, but this had to be the first time that it felt like a betrayal.
"You're not the only one the galaxy likes to shit on!" Obi-Wan had shouted at Jango over the comm two weeks ago.
"Oh, my Ob'ika, how many times will my heart bleed, before you run out of hurts to hide?" he whispered in Mando'a. Silently, he thought, 'Ka'ra, Mand'alore who have fallen before me, please, let this battle be one they can retell with a smile.'
Reports of restlessness among the adiike and some of the younger CTs started coming in in the afternoon.
Ekun suggested streaming something to watch from the holonet, which seemed to work to distract them, but they all knew it wouldn't last.
"They're used to being able to get up and move around," Kote said tiredly.
"I know," Obi-Wan murmured, his mouth flattened into a troubled line. "And they're not the only ones. See if you can't run exercises with them, when they get restless again. Race around the room, play a game of tag."
Kote's buy'ce tilted to one side. "Tag?" they repeated, sounding baffled.
"You don't know what tag is?" Anakin asked from out of screen. "Kriff. I'll explain, Master. But I am not doing any running; someone taught a batch of these little terrors about push-pull, and I've been floating little bodies all morning."
All of the jedi laughed. "Much better, your fine control will be," Yoda called.
"My fine control is perfect!" Anakin howled, and little voices giggled on his end.
"And practise will ensure it remains that way," Obi-Wan replied by way of agreement.
"Stop looking so sour, Skywalker," Jango ordered. "All buire say that."
"Even you, Prime?" Kote asked, and then their shoulders hunched up, like they'd realised that, maybe, that was a poorly considered question.
"Yes, even me, you little mir'sheb. Which is why you can go practise running laps."
"I'll add your name to my remembrances, vod," an adult clone said.
"In fact," Jango said in that particular tone that buire everywhere developed for managing ade with a talent for digging themselves deeper and deeper holes, "I think all of Gamma could use some practise running laps."
"We'll manage," Kote said to their comm, while another adult clone started yelling threats at Wolffe, who had evidently been the one to speak. "Thank you, alore." Then they signed off.
For the bored CTs, Zeblax had suggested letting them walk security perimeters around the medbay, recovery ward, and the rooms they'd been corralled in with the CCs.
"Not my favourite choice," Fox had replied tiredly, "but we should be able to sort something out. And Gregor–" the fourth member of Gamma squad "–comm'd one of his batchmates with the holonet suggestion. That seems to be helping with some of them, but we are going to have to consider letting others out, sooner or later, just to keep them from attempting to dig an escape tunnel with their utensils."
"Is it even possible to dig through these walls?" Ekun asked.
"Yes," Fox replied with a level of certainty that suggested it had been tried before, and succeeded.
Ekun's eyebrows went up and zie gave a low whistle.
Obi-Wan sighed. "There's a team of Alphas and trainers near the medbay. I'll comm you a map marking their route, and warn them that you might start walking your own route."
"Probably for the best. Thank you, Ba'buir," Fox replied, sounding a little distracted.
Obi-Wan's eyebrows jumped up, while Jaster ducked his head to hide a grin.
"Alor!" Fox corrected, and then quickly cut the connection.
Yoda cackled.
"Translation for the rest of us?" Zeblax requested.
Obi-Wan sighed as he scrolled through his comm directory to contact the team closest to Fox. "Alor is leader; ba'buir is grandparent."
"I thought adopting random younglings was Master Koon's bad habit," Ekun said.
"Master Jinn did have a habit of picking up plants and animals," Zeblax pointed out. "And Master Koon specialises in Force-sensitives."
"You mean he only ever brings home Force-sensitives."
"...ah, yes. Fair point."
"I am not getting involved in this conversation," Obi-Wan informed the room, then stepped pointedly away from the other jedi to make his comm.
Yoda was still snickering quietly to himself, so the two jedi turned to Jaster and he gave his best innocent shrug; he had a feeling it was a far better choice to follow his riduur's lead, in this.
Jaster was woken from a sound sleep, curled with Obi-Wan on the sofa, by his comm trilling. Obi-Wan jerked against him, and ended up being faster to hit the key to answer. There was no video, only audio of someone hissing curses while someone else snarled, "Stay with me, dammit!"
"Ba'buir?" asked a voice that cracked in the middle, like the clones who weren't yet of combat age, but who were old enough to mostly fit into armour.
"Yes, ad'ika?" Jaster replied, keeping his voice calm.
"He's here," they said, followed by a sob.
"Kriff!" said a voice that was definitely not a clone's. "He hit the medbay, but that spunky CC shot him and he retreated," they snapped; one of the baar'ure who had come on the jedi ship, Jaster was fairly certain. Their voice softened just a little as they added, "Tell him the direction he went, kid."
The young clone managed to get out directions for them without too many interruptions for sniffling, and Jaster thanked them and told them they'd been very brave, even as Obi-Wan pulled up his map holo and traced out likely routes.
"That's–" Zeblax breathed, her eyes gone wide and grey skin whitening.
"Littles, main comms room, lift down to the capital ships, and the main power pump," Obi-Wan said grimly as he shoved the holo disk away, while Ekun reached down towards Yoda, who let hir help him onto hir shoulders. "Jaster, you're going to have to catch us up."
"Go," Jaster said by way of agreement. "I'll comm ahead of you."
Obi-Wan nodded, then led the other jedi out of the room.
Jaster started with comming the team guarding the lift, then the team at the power pump, then Kote.
"I don't think he's interested in us," Anakin said, sounding almost haunted. "I can sense him—he's furious—but it doesn't feel like he's coming this way."
"One of the clones managed to shoot him, apparently," Jaster replied. (He had a feeling it had been Fox, and he thought a quick prayer to the Ka'ra that they not be dead.)
"Good," snarled one of the adult clones.
"Stay where you are and don't engage, for now," Jaster ordered. "Anakin, do you have any way of letting Obi-Wan know a direction to go?"
"If I can sense him, Obi-Wan and Yoda can sense him," Anakin replied, then hesitated for a moment and said, "The power station. I think."
"Thank you," Jaster replied, because he lacked Force magic to track the dar'jetii, and appreciated the hint.
The lights throughout the facility flickered twice, proving Anakin's guess right, but they didn't actually go out.
He didn't really expect to make it before the fight was over, and he didn't.[jump]
Bodies of Alphas and Cuy'val Dar, alike, were strewn like ragdolls around the entrance to the power station. About half of them bore scorch marks and cracks in their armour, like Tyranus had left with his lightning attack, while two clones and a non-Mando'ad Cuy'val Dar had been bisected by a weapon that immediately cauterised, and a Mando'ad Cuy'val Dar was gasping shallowly where they laid against one wall, buy'ce tilted like they were staring at the stumps ending just above where their knees should have been. Other clones and Cuy'val Dar had their heads tilted at unnatural angles, while the jedi who had been stationed with this group looked like they'd been crumpled up and squeezed, like a piece of rubbish, blood still dripping from their remains to the puddle under them.
Jaster swallowed down bile at the devastation; out of twenty, one had survived, and they were crippled.
"Obi-Wan," he gasped, and raced past the bodies and through the empty doorway.
The missing door was the first thing he saw, because it looked like it had been thrown like a discus against the glowing column of the pump, the protective glass around it spiderwebbed with cracks. The controls beneath it were partially melted and scorched, glass catching the movement of the pump's lights and sparkling in the centre of the damage.
He almost stumbled over Zeblax's body as he tried to walk further in, and his unintentional kick upset her head from where it had rested against one outstretched hand. It rolled a bit, until her wide blue eyes were left staring up at the ceiling, her mouth open in a scream.
He found Ekun next, slumped down against half of a console that Jaster was fairly certain had originally been on the other side of the room. Hir afro was singed and standing even more at attention, and the left side of hir face was shot through with stark-white lightning forks.
"Not gon' be fight," zie slurred, only half of hir mouth moving, and hir right hand flopped onto hir lap.
No, Jaster realised with a grimace, not hir hand, because the sleeve ended too soon, edges turned crispy and looking to have fused itself to what was left of hir wrist.
"I know," Jaster murmured. "Just rest."
" 'appy to," zie slurred, and hir eyes closed.
Hir chest was still moving, shuddering like every breath hurt, so Jaster moved onward, following the trail of grooves burnt into the white floor and scorch marks against the ceiling and floor.
It led him to a side room, the door and half of the doorway looking to have been blown inwards, jagged edges of shattered plastisteel stained red on one side, as though someone had fallen against it and been stabbed.
There was a lump of black fabric against the far wall, under a rounded dent in the plastisteel, but Jaster's attention was caught by the whine of a blaster's charge pack, and he was raising his own against the threat, even as he recognised Jango's face over white armour, blood staining half of their face, presumably from the wound visible through their curly hair.
"Ba'buir?" they rasped, and then their knees folded under them.
"Fox!" Jaster shouted, letting his carbine fall as he rushed forward to catch his bu'ad before they hit the floor. "What–?"
But that was as far as he got, because he'd finally spotted Obi-Wan, slumped against the wall and half curled over Yoda, who was clearly missing part of an ear. Obi-Wan's outer tunic was missing, and the inner tunic was dyed red, a hole over his heart revealing torn flesh and hints of white bone.
Fox was whispering something, and it took a moment for Jaster to recognise, "Alive. He's alive. Ba'buir, he's alive."
Jaster didn't really recognise the sound he made, some sort of hellish marriage of a sob and a prayer of thanks. He shifted to reach his comm, and his attention was caught by the blood on his hands.
But, he hadn't touched anything? Nothing but–
"Where?" he demanded. "Fox, where are you hurt?"
Fox choked on a laugh, and it sounded wet and rattling like a death knell.
Sound rushed into the room, and Jaster whipped his head towards the door, cursing himself a fool for having dropped his blaster, but he recognised the gold beskar'gam in the lead and relaxed, just for a moment.
"Fox has a punctured lung," he called, "and they say that Obi-Wan's alive, at least."
"You hurt?" Baar'ur Gilamar demanded as he dropped to his knees next to Jaster and Fox, quick fingers already reaching for the clasps of Fox's armour.
"No. It was over when I arrived. Ekun?"
"That the jedi with the lightning-fro?" Gilamar asked, before barking out orders for bandages as he finally got Fox's backplate off.
"Yes," Jaster agreed, letting Gilamar guide his hand to stem some of the blood flow from the punctures high on Fox's back and just to the side of their spine; that answered who had fallen against the broken doorway. Fox let out a pained grunt, and Jaster hushed them.
"One of the jedi healers are with them."
"Zie."
"Zie," Gilamar grunted. "Yaojie!" he shouted as he accepted the thick pads a clone baar'ur held down to him, the heavy scent of bacta clear even through Jaster's buy'ce's environmental filters.
"Kenobi and Yoda are both alive!" the jedi ori'baarur shouted back from where she and two other clone baar'ure were knelt by the fallen jedi. "How many bacta tanks do we have?"
"Not enough!"
Yaojie snarled something that sounded like a curse, then fell silent. Jaster looked up from where he had been relegated to helping to hold the bacta-soaked pads in place while Gilamar and the clone baar'ur worked to wrap gauze around Fox without being able to get their chestplate completely out of the way, because Jaster was in the way. The jedi baar'ur had leant forward, towards Yoda, and her expression was grim.
Yaojie blinked, and something shimmered against her cheek, and then she was straightening and barking orders to get Obi-Wan into bacta.
Jaster finally managed to slide out of the way when he no longer had to hold any of the pads in place. He hesitated for a moment, looking after where Obi-Wan was being rushed out on a stretcher, but then he shook himself and turned to the other crumpled form, the one everyone had been overlooking.
Jaster had seen only one image of Palpatine, which Obi-Wan had pulled up for him while they were waiting for the dar'jetii to show. They were a pale-skinned human, with hair that was white with age, and they'd been smiling in the holo.
They were not smiling, now—they actually looked rather more shocked, than anything else—and they seemed to have aged ten or twenty years, hair thinned to only a few wispy strands and more wrinkles lining their face, their wide eyes sunken into the sockets.
Jaster honestly couldn't say what the killing blow had been—he could see at least three blaster burns in the heavy black fabric of their cloak, and a long slice that was singed at the edges the same way Ekun's sleeve had been—but he could say that they looked very dead.
Still, just to be certain, Jaster pressed his retrieved carbine to their throat and fired. Twice.
Their head hit the floor with an ugly thud.
It was extremely satisfying.
Jaster turned and left to follow the baar'ure to the medbay.
The casualties were horrifying, especially considering it had only been one being.
They'd received no warning of their arrival—the CCs managing the sensor arrays insist their ship never showed up, and Jaster had the sinking feeling that they'd somehow been programmed into the system that way—and Palpatine had managed to make it to the medbay without running into anyone on the way. There, they had proceeded to do far more damage than anyone had expected one being to manage on their own, even a dar'jetii: All seven of the non-jedi baar'ure who had been in the medbay were dead, as were two of the trainee jedi baar'ure, while the third was so bad off, Baar'ur Yaojie wasn't certain they would make it, even with one of the bacta tanks they'd had to bring down from the Brightest Star, because the dar'jetii had destroyed all of the ones in the main medbay. (The baar'ur who had been in the background when Jaster was comm'd, had been in one of the surgery rooms, determined to continue the dechipping, despite the danger, and that had saved their life and that of the clone with them.)
All but two of the fifteen clones who had been patients in the medbay were dead, as were all six of the clones who had been visiting, and the surviving two were both suffering from glancing lightning blows. Fox's patrol team of five adult CTs and one other CC were all dead, while Fox was fighting for their life in one of the bacta tanks. The squad made up of Cuy'val Dar, Alphas, and one jedi, who had been guarding the area, was down to two Alphas—one had a broken spine, the other had lost his right arm below his bicep, and both had refused to be put in a bacta tank, insisting they be saved for those who wouldn't survive without—and the jedi, who had been physically fine, but Palpatine had apparently ripped their mind to shreds, and it would be a long, hard road with a mir'baar'ur, with no certainty that they would ever recover.
Of the team who had been protecting the power station, as Jaster had already known, the only survivor was the single Cuy'val Dar member, who had listlessly waived their right to a bacta tank, insisting it wouldn't do any good. And, of the four jedi who had faced off against Palpatine together, only two had survived—Yoda had apparently refused a bacta tank, and Baar'ur Yaojie had given him something so he could pass peacefully, as he wouldn't survive without the tank—and while Ekun was expected to make it through, it wasn't a sure thing for Obi-Wan, whose wounds included damage to his heart and one lung, and a broken leg.
All Jaster could do, was close his eyes and pray.
Jaster didn't get to say goodbye to Obi-Wan; his riduur was still in bacta when he, Ekun, Anakin, the rest of the surviving jedi, and the bodies of Yoda, Zeblax, and the jedi who had been killed defending the power station, boarded the Brightest Star to return to Coruscanta. He hadn't even been able to watch Obi-Wan's bacta tank moved, because he and Jango had been trapped in the comm centre, on a three-way holoconference with the Jet'alore and some Republic Senate committee who were demanding reparations for their chancellor's death from all of those involved. And, when that had been argued to a standstill, they'd had to argue for the rights of the clones, which the head of the committee seemed to think belonged to the Senate, and, when Jaster sent them the bill of sale, which was clearly made out to the Jet'tsad, the senator started yelling about treason and the jedi being the ones who had planned the war with the Separatists.
It took nearly an entire day cycle to clarify the matter of the dar'jetiise, and Jaster had stormed out of the room, at last, with intentions to let Gilamar give him whatever drugs the baar'ur thought would help with the pounding behind his eyes and let him get at least a little sleep on the bed he'd stolen in the medbay, next to Obi-Wan and Fox's bacta tanks, only to find one missing.
"They were ordered back to Coruscant," Seventeen explained numbly from where they were slumped on Jaster's bed. "The Senate apparently made threats."
According to Jango and Seventeen, the fit he'd thrown had been spectacular, but it was just a blur of agonised rage in his memory, before someone managed to sedate him.
"You," Jaster snarled at the Senate committee when they reconvened the next day, "will get more of my family over my dead body."
It took almost four days, but Jaster managed to secure freedom for his bu'ade.
Fox waking and being allowed out of bacta on the second day of endless arguments had done a lot for Jaster's mood. It also meant they had one of the only two survivors of the battle to ask about it, although Baar'ur Gilamar had made it clear that he would be putting an end to the questions the moment Fox started to look unwell, and had even come into the meeting the next morning to inform the Senate where they could stick their damn demands, when they tried to insist that they be allowed to question Fox.
Fox, it turned out, had been the one to shoot Palpatine outside the medbay. Palpatine had lashed out with the Force in response, throwing Fox and their squad of CTs against a wall. Fox had blacked out for a moment, and when they'd come to, Palpatine was just finishing decimating the squad of Cuy'val Dar and Alphas that had been meant to protect the medbay.
(Of that squad, Jaster already knew, there had been three survivors: two Alphas—Storm, whose spine had been broken, but Gilamar had refused to declare them completely paralyzed; and Muzzle, who had lost his right arm below his bicep, and had already been talking about how cool his prosthetic would look—and the jedi, who had been physically fine, but Palpatine had apparently ripped their mind to shreds, and it would be a long, hard road with a mir'baar'ur, with no certainty that they would ever recover.)
Fox had limped after Palpatine, following the blood trail they'd been leaving, only realising too late that their comm had been shattered when they'd been thrown against the wall. By the time they'd made it to the power station, Zeblax was already dead, and they hadn't noticed Ekun at all, distracted by Obi-Wan screaming.
They'd found Palpatine attempting to shove their fingers through Obi-Wan's chest, yelling about how they'd like to see him survive having his heart ripped out.
Fox had shot them again. Twice. Aiming for centre mass because they hadn't been certain enough about their ability to aim at the dar'jetii's head. Which had been all the distraction Obi-Wan had needed to call a kad'au into his hand and swing it at Palpatine's chest.
After that, Fox wasn't completely clear what had happened. Something had seemed to explode between Obi-Wan and Palpatine, which had thrown Obi-Wan against one wall and knocked him unconscious, thrown Palpatine into another wall, where Jaster had found them, and thrown Fox back into the jagged edges of the blown-in doorway. They hadn't even really realised they'd been hurt until they'd collapsed, when Jaster had shown up, still running off the panicked adrenaline that had had them racing across the room to check on Obi-Wan.
The senate committee clearly hadn't been happy that they weren't allowed to speak to Fox themselves, but there wasn't much they could do about it, as far away as they were, and they'd already ordered back all of the jedi, so it wasn't like they had someone on Kamino they could order to do their bidding. (Not that Jaster thought any of the jedi would have been willing to drag Fox onto a comm conference for the sake of reliving their trauma for uncaring strangers.)
Of course, the victory against the Senate was not without downsides. Namely, no clones were allowed in Republic space; cloning was, after all, illegal in the Republic, and they were an army, which meant they—apparently—could turn on the Republic at any moment.
Jaster didn't know what price the Jet'tsad would pay for their part in the chancellor's death. But, by the way Ori'alor Windu's smile didn't reach their eyes when they thanked Jaster for his assistance, he doubted it would be anything good.
"What about Ba'buir?" Boba whispered, once Jaster and Jango finished telling the gathered clones and surviving Cuy'val Dar members about the Senate's 'generousness' and threats.
"What about him?" Seventeen replied coldly, as if their hand wasn't wrapped in a brace because they'd broken it punching a wall, after Jaster had informed them they wouldn't be allowed to go after their jedi.
Boba raced over to Jaster, and he picked the adiik up to hug him.
"I miss An'ika," Rex whispered and, when Kote yanked him into a hug, started to sob.
Jaster had to spend almost a month punishing attempts to launch the capital ships with the intention to fly them to Coruscanta and show the Senate what an army was willing to do against them, and it probably would have lasted longer, except Baar'ur Gilamar and the other baar'ure who were still on Kamino figured out how to reverse the clones' sped-up ageing, and that cure distracted them from their anger at the Senate and concern for the jedi.
"This isn't going to last, Mand'alor," Gilamar warned.
"I know," Jaster replied tiredly. "They need some sort of cause, something to waste their anger on." He needed something too, honestly, although keeping control of a few million bu'ade usually left him too exhausted to do more than fall into his cold bed and miss Obi-Wan.
"I'll ask around," Gilamar replied drily, and left.
Vhonte was the one who came up with the solution, cheerfully informing him that no one had banned them from Hutt space.
"And here I thought we would take Manda'yaim back," Kal had muttered in Mando'a under the cover of the clones' roars of approval; having escaped their own future of slavery by the skin of their teeth, the idea of freeing other slaves clearly appealed to them.
"If we loose them on the Evaar'ade as they have been," Jaster muttered in return, "they'll cause another Dral'Han on accident; I'd rather that happen to Nal Hutta, than Manda'yaim."
Kal snorted. "As you say, Mand'alor."
They didn't quite cause a new Dral'Han on any Hutt planets, but they didn't leave much in the way of a Hutt empire, either.
With almost three thousand former slaves looking for a new place to call home and new lives to build for themselves, Jaster sent the so-called 'Duchess of Mandalore' an ultimatum: She and her violently pacifistic masses could return to the hole they'd crawled out of of their own volition, or they could prove to the entire galaxy why pacifism was a coward's death.
He gave her two weeks. She fled to Coruscanta in one.
Just under a month later, the Republic Senate requested Jaster join them on Coruscanta so they could negotiate a trade agreement. Jaster replied that they could have a trade agreement when they lifted the ban on his family entering Republic space.
By the end of the week, patrols had captured three different Republic vessels inside Manda'lase. They were taken back to the edge of Republic space and left there with firm directions to go home and stay out of Manda'lase.
They continued being polite, but firm, with private transports, picking them up in patrolling capital ships and flying them as close to Republic space as the clones dared to go, then dropping them off and watching them take the hint, under threat of charged cannons, if need be.
Corporate transports—especially any of those belonging to corporations that Jango recalled being very willing members of Tyranus' little cabal—were given one polite return to the border, and then further forays into Manda'lase earnt them two warning shots, then destruction. (The Trade Federation were the most stubborn of the lot, and it would eventually get to the point that the patrolling capital ships wouldn't bother with warning shots, for them.)
The Senate only attempted to send one official Republic ship; the clones who had stumbled over it had boarded, ensured that everyone aboard were completely loyal to their accursed government, then had everyone shot and left the ship to float in a shipping lane in neutral space.
The lines were drawn, and Jaster would not back down until his family could be reunited.
Jaster had some experience running a city and managing one of the largest Mando Houses, and Tyranus' datapad had taught him some few additional tricks for being a planetary leader, but he still spent the first half-year feeling like he was flailing, just a bit, trying to keep on top of everything that came up.
If it wasn't Republic entities encroaching on Manda'lase, it was a harvest failing on Concord Dawn, or a squad of Kyr'tsad loyalists making a nuisance of themselves at small farms and towns, where the locals weren't as able to fight them off. Or word of Anakin being in the field (never with Obi-Wan, which did nothing for the loneliness haunting Jaster's every step, and seemed to leave all of the clones—Seventeen, Fox, and Boba, especially—in worse moods than usual) reached Rex, and he would have to be placed under house arrest to keep him from stealing a ship and chasing down the rumours.
Jaster put Seventeen in charge of hunting down the squads of Kyr'tsad, because his bu'ad was spending too much of their time pacing the Mand'alor's residence and breaking things—usually their vode—in the training salles; giving them a target for their helpless rage was the only kindness Jaster was able to offer them, and it proved to be something they were very good at.
Kal and his Nulls somehow volunteered themselves to become a liaison with the former Hutt worlds, working out trade agreements to assist with the struggles they were finding with a good half of the potential farming land in Manda'lase useless because of the Dral'Han.
(Obi-Wan had apparently said, at one point, to a group of clones who had been interested in agriculture, that there was a section of the Jet'tsad that might be able to help heal the old scars of their planets. Jaster wished he could reach out to the Jet'alore, ask for more information, but he dare not chance whatever fragile peace they had with the Senate, and nor could he ignore the Senate's ban on his bu'ade.)
Other members of the former Cuy'val Dar picked out clones they could work with for an extended period and followed Kal's example, forming trade agreements with non-Republic worlds in the outer rim, often promising protection in the form of a fully-staffed capital ship in exchange for food or medical supplies. Since they had more than enough capital ships, and plenty of clones, Mando'ade, and former slaves willing to serve as crew, Jaster didn't make any complaints, although he did request that they try to make some trade agreements without relying on their ability to make pirates think twice about making a stop somewhere.
Fox was a blessing, settling themself as Jaster's personal assistant and revealing a particular skill for flimi work. Kote, Bacara, Ponds, and a handful of other CCs were similarly capable, and they set up a rotation so at least one of them was on planet, between Manda'lase patrol commands, to help Fox stay on top of everything coming in.
Jango officially retired from any sort of verd's work, instead focussing on helping the clones find ways to contribute and finally acting like a buir to more than Boba. As much as Jaster would have appreciated his support, he knew Jango had a lot of healing ahead of him. As long as he comm'd once a week to check in—twice a week, when Boba was staying with Jaster—Jaster was happy to let him find his healing in his own way.
Vhonte ended up joining her ade in hunting down slavers, but she would swing back through Manda'lase every few months, usually stopping in to see Jaster and trade rumours. Not that either of them ever had anything to share about Obi-Wan, which was what they were both really hoping for. Anakin, sure, and the Brightest Star was back to their rounds just inside Republic space on the opposite side of the galaxy, and Vhonte had even heard whispers about a probable jedi, who matched Ekun's description, snooping around in a pirate cantina about four months after Palpatine's attack and death. Nothing definitive; despite making a couple of honest tries, Vhonte never seemed able to make contact with any jedi. (Or, at least, not any jedi with contact with the Coruscanta Jet'yaim; there were apparently at least two different jedi masters running around in the outer rim, helping where they could, who hadn't been past the mid rim since before Jaster's 'death' on Korda VI.)
Baar'ur Gilamar was probably the only former Cuy'val Dar who settled in at the Mand'alor's residence. He insisted it was so the clones always knew where to find him, and he would be well-placed to hear if anything started going wrong with their genetics. But, given how often he hunted Jaster or Fox or one of Fox's assistant vode down and either sedated them or threatened to shoot them if they didn't get a proper meal and at least six hours of sleep in their beds, Jaster privately suspected the baar'ur had picked his residence to keep an eye on Jaster and those of his bu'ade who were trying to hold Manda'lase together with rushed signatures and cold cups of caf.
Right around the sixth month mark, since they'd ousted Kryze and Jaster reclaimed his title properly, he was visited by a different Kryze. This one was wearing full beskar'gam and had requested an audience with him in crisp Mando'a, according to the guards, but they also openly wore House Vizsla's mark, which was so thoroughly tied to Kyr'tsad in everyone's minds, they'd almost been shot before they made it to the Mand'alor's residence's gates—they'd apparently worn a cloak to get into the city—and had been forced to turn over all of their weapons, including their kom'rke, before Jaster was even informed of their wish to speak with him.
"My name is Bo-Katan Kryze," they'd said, buy'ce under one arm and fist still pressed tight to their ka'rta beskar in salute.
"The younger sibling," Jaster replied flatly. "Yes, I know who you are." Partially from Obi-Wan, partially from his own digging once they'd all settled in a bit on Manda'yaim, and he was no longer falling into his cold bed so exhausted he was asleep before his head hit the pillow. "Why have you come here? Especially bearing that mark?"
They drew in a slow breath, eyes darting to the bes'marbur with the damning mark. "Clan Vizsla are cousins of Clan Kryze, through marriage. When my dar'vod started signing their pacifistic ideals into law, I went to Vizsla's alor and requested asylum. It was granted, and I was shipped off-planet to a private training school." They cleared their throat, shifting their feet ever so slightly. "I didn't realise it was a training school for Kyr'tsad for...a while. Too long to have anywhere else to go."
Jaster tilted his head, considering them. "There were rumours, thirty years ago, that Tor Vizsla was stealing children, training them to be loyal only to Kyr'tsad."
Kryze nodded. "I cannot speak to thirty years ago, Mand'alor, but I know for a fact that it was happening before, during, and after the civil war."
"And now?" Jaster demanded.
They swallowed and shrugged. "Not since your return, that I'm aware of. Your grandchildren have made it...difficult to be able to snatch children."
Charging blasters whined around the room, and Jaster held up a staying hand. "You realise," he said icily, "that you stand on a knife's edge, dar'manda."
Kryze flinched and then, very slowly, knelt, setting their buy'ce on the ground in front of them. "Please," they said, voice quiet but with a thread of desperation than had Jaster narrowing his eyes. "I only stayed with Kyr'tsad because there was no other choice. I would still be there, but, Mand'alor–" they looked up at him, pale eyes wide and pleading "–I would be dar'manda and a coward if I didn't warn you; Pre Vizsla has three hundred warriors, and they intend to attack Keldabe at the end of the week. You are their main target."
Jaster stared down at them, observing the desperate plea in their eyes and trying to ignore how Fox and Kote had both gone battle-tense at their positions to either side of his chair. "How much of this plot are you aware of?" he asked.
They drew in a slow breath and smiled a sharp smile that didn't reach their eyes. "Nearly the whole of it. I'm family, and my loyalty hasn't been in question in over a decade; Pre trusts me implicitly."
Jaster considered them for another long moment, watching them begin to fidget, the desperation that kept sliding over their face when they failed to look stoic.
The thing was, Jaster believed them. Surprise attacks had always been Kyr'tsad's way, and the fastest way to destabilise Manda'yaim would be to take out Jaster, especially since Jango very clearly wanted nothing to do with the title, and Jaster hadn't made a show of training any of the clones to take it up in his stead, should it prove necessary. (They could, he knew; Seventeen could easily take command of their vode—even the Nulls seemed willing to follow them, if grudgingly—and the rest of the Mando'ade would fall in line with only a little trouble, especially with Fox continuing to act as assistant. But they wouldn't be happy about it. And might very well decide they'd waited for news of their jedi for long enough, and pick a fight with the Republic.)
He wasn't in the habit of keeping a heavy defence force in Keldabe, preferring to spread out protections to all of Manda'lase's member worlds and whichever of their trade partners felt most in need of a pirate deterrent. Which meant they could, in fact, be overrun and defeated with a large enough force. And three hundred trained verde might just be a large enough force, especially with the benefit of the attack being a surprise.
"Kote," he murmured, "summon a war council for an hour hence."
Kote thumped a fist against the bright orange sunburst surrounding their ka'rta beskar. "Alor," they said by way of agreement, and quickly made their way from the room.
"Kryze, you have twenty minutes to tell me as much of this attack plan as you can. Then, you will be thrown into prison for the grievous crime of daring to wear that mark in my city."
Someone snorted, while Kryze stared up at him, their eyes wide.
Jaster raised an eyebrow at them. "I am waiting."
That was enough to shock them into speaking.
One of the benefits of all of his bu'ade sharing a face, was that it was ridiculously easy to sneak in a few hundred extra guards into the city without anyone any the wiser, so long as they trickled in and didn't congregate in public. Which all of them were both clever enough and familiar enough with following orders, that they didn't have any trouble. And they all knew to bring their own gear and supplies to keep them for a week or so, so it would be easier to hide that certain homes were suddenly requiring more food.
Jaster and Seventeen had spent a long fifteen minutes arguing about whether they were better served joining Jaster in Keldabe, or making their way to Jango, in case Kyr'tsad thought to take out Jaster's most likely heir at the same time as they were attacking Jaster himself. Jaster managed to win that one when the rest of the Alphas and CCs on the comm reminded their vod that Kyr'tsad's history said they would absolutely try attacking both Jaster and Jango, if just for the possibility of taking out at least one of them.
However, that tactic backfired on Jaster when Seventeen pointed out that, if Kyr'tsad was aiming for House Mereel's Mand'alore, that meant Jaster would also need to be protected. Which meant no fighting.
When Fox turned wide, teary eyes on him, Jaster crumpled; he could not, in good conscience, force his bu'ade to face losing their other ba'buir to a fight, especially since they still didn't know if Obi-Wan was even alive.
Kyr'tsad's attack played out exactly as Kryze had told them it would, which meant Jaster would have to grant them their freedom. And, if they could give up information on Kyr'tsad's bases and help them finish this once and for all, he would even let them keep their beskar'gam, despite their being a proven traitor.
And, as Jaster had expected, Pre Vizsla had led a small squad against Jango, only to be met with Seventeen's strike force and annihilated.
When they comm'd to let Jaster know they were still alive, Jango was wearing the widest, most delighted grin Jaster had seen on him since he was an ad. Next to him, Seventeen was scowling in clear embarrassment, and Jaster raised his eyebrows at the pair of them, a little disbelieving.
"Alpha," Jango informed him gleefully, "is absolutely Obi-Wan's grandchild. Show Buir."
Seventeen let out a disgruntled noise, but raised their hand to reveal an oddly-shaped hilt. One that Jaster had never seen, despite all the times Tor Vizsla swore he owned it, but recognised from history books. "You won the dha'kad'au," he murmured, not really surprised; he'd always known the Manda favoured his clan over the Vizslas.
"I don't want it," Seventeen replied, tone sharp with something Jaster couldn't quite read.
Jango's glee vanished and he hesitantly rested a hand on Seventeen's shoulder, letting go when they shrugged him off. "It's yours," he said, firm but with a note of apology. "You can't change that, Alpha. But you don't have to wield it; I'm sure Buir has a vault you can toss it in."
"I'm sure I do," Jaster agreed. "And I wouldn't mind a chance to study it, myself."
"Buir," Jango groaned and Seventeen snorted, their shoulders losing some of their tightness.
(It wasn't until Seventeen handed the dha'kad'au to him, and Jaster curiously turned it on, that he understood exactly why his bu'ad had wanted nothing to do with the weapon: Somehow, the discordant hum of the plasma blade made Obi-Wan's absence so much more notable, like a hollow ache in the space he should have occupied at Jaster's side. At the least, when he clicked the damn thing off and tossed it into the protective box he'd found to hold it, he could find some comfort in the fact that he wasn't the only one fighting back tears.)
A month shy of a full year since Jaster had taken Manda'yaim back, a ship broadcasting a distress call on Republic frequencies stumbled into Manda'lase. The capital ship that picked it up immediately comm'd Jaster, because the passengers were a jet'ad who was trying very hard to be brave, an adiik who was clearly terrified, and a Republic senator, who would very likely die without assistance.
"Please," the jet'ad said, because they'd asked to speak to the ship's captain as soon as it was made clear that they wouldn't be immediately shot and dumped for the Republic to find in their own time, and Jaster wondered what their reaction had been to getting him, instead. "I don't know if my master is even still alive, but this is my duty. It's said, in Temple, that, whatever else is said about Mandalorians, you are no monsters."
Jaster closed his eyes and sighed, because he could never have refused so heartfelt a plea from a member of his riduur's family. "I am not," he agreed. "Give the senator aid."
The jet'ad bowed, clearly relieved. "Thank you, Mand'alor."
"I have a question for you," Jaster found himself asking, instead of cutting the contact.
"I can try to answer," the jet'ad replied hesitantly.
"The jedi, Obi-Wan Kenobi. What happened to him?"
They blinked, clearly surprised. "Master Kenobi? He's on the Council."
"He's alive?" Jaster breathed, and had to blink back tears of relief.
"Yes."
"Thank you," Jaster told them, with all the sincerity he could muster. And then he ended the comm and went to update his family and Vhonte.
Jaster didn't know what the jet'ad or the senator had said, but, a little under a week after they were left just outside of Republic space, he was again contacted by the Senate.
He had expected another committee, but he actually got Bail Organa, the chancellor as of three months previous, who wore a smile that almost looked warm when they said, "Mand'alor Mereel, thank you for the safe return of Senator Bel Iblis, his daughter, and Padawan Bene."
"I don't kill children," Jaster returned flatly.
"So I have been informed," Organa replied. "I'm afraid our people have rekindled old enmity, which I would like to see finally put to rest. How might I convince you to come to an accord?"
Jaster sneered behind the cover of his buy'ce. "Your people are the ones who have drawn these lines, Chancellor Organa. As I have told your Senate before, so long as my grandchildren are forbidden from Republic space, your people will be forbidden from Mandalorian space."
"Please don't hang up on me!" Organa called, and Jaster froze, finger over the control that would end the comm, more out of surprise to hear a senator—the chancellor—lowering themself to using 'please', than out of some kindness or interest in listening to more excuses. "Mand'alor," Organa said, talking fast, as though they knew Jaster's hesitation would only last for so long, "please believe me when I say that I fully support your grandchildren's wishes to travel where their heart takes them, and serve with those whom they please."
Jaster lowered his hand back to his lap, frowning at the new line of banthashit; playing at being on his side did not seem to come natural to members of the Republic's body of government, from what he knew of them. "But?" he asked.
Organa took a breath. "Mand'alor, if I may be frank? You have an army at your beck and call, while the Republic has nothing. Some powerful factions in the Senate took your attack on the Hutts as a threat, and Duchess Kryze needing to seek asylum on Coruscant furthered that sense of eminent danger. At the moment, refusing your grandchildren entry to Republic space seems, to the public and much of the Senate, to be sufficient to keep you from attacking the Republic itself.
"Essentially, you are the one with all the power. And, until that changes, the Senate will never be able to pass a bill to rescind the ban on clones in Republic space."
Jaster scowled. "You expect me to, what, put on a fireworks display of my blowing up my capital ships, so your whimpering masses will stop waiting for bombs to fall?" he demanded.
"I don't think you need to be quite that excessive," Organa returned with a smile that almost looked friendly. "Come to Coruscant, sit at a table with us, and let us see if we can work out something a little more mutually beneficial."
Jaster snorted. "And where is my guarantee that you will not arrest me, or stab me in my back as soon as I am on your planet?"
"I can only give you my word," Organa replied, then glanced down, winced, and said, "Haat, ijaa, haa'it."
Organa's pronunciation was absolute shit, but the meaning still came across. And, if they knew enough to use those words, they would know what it would mean to break them.
"I will see you on Coruscanta," he said, and ended the call.
A/N: Character deaths: Yoda, one named OC jedi, three unnamed jedi (including two padawan healers), approximately 19 unnamed Cuy'val, approximately 18 unnamed Alpha or Null clones (exact numbers and designations aren't specified), one unnamed CC, 5 unnamed CTs, and 13 unnamed clone cadets, and 6 unnamed and unspecified clones. Oh, and Palpafucker, he dead.
There are also a number of injuries, some of which we won't know the full extent of until next chapter.
| Chapters | ||
|---|---|---|
| One | Two | Three |
| Four | Five | Six |
| Seven | Nine | |
| Ten | Glossary | |
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