Heir to the Throne [Abregado-rae]

[tenkalus]

There were only a few hours left now. Only a token amount of time before his life would change forever. And as the wind whipped his hair into a frenzy, Reeve had to smile.

It wasn’t a humorous smile. It was the kind of smile that had danger lurking just beneath the surface. The kind of smile that one adopted when they had nothing left to lose. And Reeve didn’t. It was time to show everyone what it meant to mess with him, and watch how high the flames rose as the world around him burned.

“What’s the word, Ziggy?!” He shouted above the wind, looking behind him as the sirens wailed.

**Network access unavailable. Mobile platform out of range.** came the mechanical drone of his best friend in his ear.

Reeve cursed and began to climb. He was on the back of a speeding truck about to hit the Abregado-rae Spaceport bridge. The shipment he was trying to take had nearly gotten through the security checkpoint when he sprang. If it had gotten through, it would now be off planet lining someone’s pockets. But Reeve was going to make sure that its final destination was somewhere else.

Behind him, the sirens of the security droids continued to whine as they chased after the truck on their speeder bikes. “Cease and desist,” they kept repeating. Reeve wished they’d shut up, he was trying to concentrate. They wouldn’t shoot at him because if they hit him, he’d drop to the highway and likely get run over, and their programming wouldn’t allow that kind of carnage. And they wouldn’t send stun coils his way either, for the same reason. Droids were simple like that. They couldn’t think, they just followed programming.

Ziggy was the same way, in that regard. Reeve had programmed ‘him’ with over a dozen voice commands and three times that many responses, but ultimately his best friend was little more than a high functioning droid brain with no intelligence to speak of. All it knew how to do was what he told it to do, and right now he was trying to hack the driver droid to take control of the truck.

That was the thing about Abregado-rae. Droids were cheap labor, you only had to pay for them once and the only expense afterwards was upkeep, which could be done at a fraction of the cost of a live worker. They didn’t complain and they never asked for raises. That, and they couldn’t be persuaded to do something against their programming. They were just automatons. It was all very efficient, but it lacked humanity.

So while droids couldn’t be bought off, droids could unfortunately be sliced. They were all wires and signals. All Reeve had to do was find the right signal and hijack it to take control. Ziggy would have to run the firewall breaker to jump the system, but Reeve knew his programming was good enough to take down this level of security. So now he was inching up the back of the truck, trying to get close enough for Ziggy to connect wireless. It was a rush, and trying to focus while this much adrenaline was pumping through him was proving tougher than he’d expected.

Reeve clamped down on the top of the truck as hard as he could and tried to haul himself up. His foot slipped and he almost dropped do the ground zipping by below him, and his stomach nearly dropped with it. But he tried again and huffed as he made it to the top of the cargo truck. The thing was a box only about 12 feet long, but for what it was carrying, 12 feet would equate to ten times the size of this truck, but full to the brim with credits.

Prone on the roof now, Reeve had a great view how fast they were going and where they were heading. They had fully entered the bridge now. No turning back.

The bridge was 2 kilometers long and led to the next city over. At its apex, the bridge stood nearly a full kilometer from ground level, but sank into a deep canal below it. One thing was for sure, if one were to fall off this structural marvel of engineering, it would take a long time to reach the bottom.

“Ziggy?!”

**Network access available, Mobile platform within range.**

Reeve smiled again, “Own him!”

**Initiating firewall breaching program. Standby.**

“Yeaaah! Get um Ziggy! Get- ahhhhh!”

The truck began to jerk left and right as the droids battled for control. Processing power from the driver droid was being divided between protection of its assigned cargo and defense of its own platform. At this point, all Reeve could do was hang on for dear life. But on the top of a speeding hover truck, there wasn’t a lot to hold on to.

Still, it only took a few seconds of unseen digital warfare for Ziggy to overpower his opponent, and as soon as he had control, the truck evened out on the road. **Firewall obliterated, wireless control available.**

“Hell yeah! Let’s do this buddy!” Reeve exclaimed. In truth, Ziggy was done. The rest was up to him. But Reeve had always included the droid as though they were a team. Fact was he didn’t have any real friends to share his triumphs with, and so all of his accomplishments were singular victories granted by a singular intelligence.

Namely, Reeve’s.

The 17 year old carefully got his feet under him to brace himself, and rose up to a slightly elevated crouching position. For all intent and purposes, it looked like he was surfing the truck. Which was bound to be what the people of Abregado-rae would think was the point. He hadn’t really intended to get this far out of line but there was in fact a news vehicle flying alongside the bridge, with their camera on and reporting live on the high speed chase.

Reeve ignored them. It didn’t matter what everyone thought he was doing. He knew why he was here. He knew why he was doing this.

The grin disappeared as he hit a button on his wrist and a tiny control pad ejected toward him from the bracer he’d attached it to. “Alright let’s see how this hog handles!” he shouted to his inanimate partner. With a light touch, he flicked his finger across the pad and in response, the truck shifted left to another lane. Then he repeated the gesture to the right and the truck followed suit.

It was just in time, too. The truck was now reaching the apex of the bridge. It was now or never.

This one is for me… he thought to himself.

He picked out a spot ahead of him and at the last second, flicked his finger across the pad sharply and sent the truck on a collision course with the guard rail. Thing was, with the cargo this heavy and the speed the truck was traveling, there was no way the railing was going to keep it contained.

Reeve jammed the the pad back into the bracer and stood up fully, accepting the fate before him. He turned before the truck careened into the railing and grinned at the camera’s capturing the whole thing. The truck impacted and went soaring off the bridge, which in turn launched Reeve out into free air. He flew backwards, extending the middle fingers of both hands to the camera’s before closing his eyes and turning around to free fall, letting out a whoop of exhilaration as he rocketed.

It was that moment, for the very first time in Reeve’s life, that he felt truly free. There was nothing else to think about. It was just him and gravity.

But about halfway down to his death, Reeve opened his eyes and reached up to his shoulder. He found the tab there and pulled hard.

He could slice automated credit machines all day, but he would never be able to get enough to creds to buy a jetpack or a repulsor jet. So he’d gone analog for once and gotten a plain old parachute.

The canopy ripped into the air as the wind buffeted it, but it opened full and true above him and he began to rapidly decrease speed toward the canal below.

Unfortunately the truck didn’t have a parachute, and it lost its battle with gravity as it plunged into deep water below.

Reeve landed placidly in the water a few minutes later, a huge smile on his lips.


******************************************


Two hours later, he was dry and being marched through the police station with his hands bound behind his back with energy binders. All around, detained criminals were whooping and hollering, cheering him on as he passed. But Reeve’s smile was gone now. He recognized the office he was being brought to. The sergeant leading him, shoved him down to the chair and shook his head. “You’re in for it now kid…” he muttered as he dropped Reeve’s bracer on the desk and left.

The door slid shut behind him and Reeve looked around and scowled at the nameplate sitting on the desk in the office. He reached up and swept his boot along the surface and knocked the plate to the floor irritably. When it hit the ground, he read it upside down.

Toddlun Morris.

The door slid open and shut again just as quickly. “Are you kidding me? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” The angry voice roared before its owner came into view, stepping behind his desk. Toddlun Morris held up a sheet of flimsi to indicate something but slammed it on his desk before Reeve could even look at it, as if to punctuate the information there. “A HUNDRED AND FORTY BARS OF ELECTRUM BULLION!! SCATTERED ACROSS THE CANAL!! And you know how many we’ve been able to find so far? Two. TWO, REEVE!”

Reeve smirked.

“Oh, Oh I’m sorry, do you think this is funny? Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in, son?”

It was bait, and Reeve knew that. But he couldn’t help himself. “I’m not your son, Todd.” His cheek worked as he spat the man’s name as if it was made of poison. Biologically speaking, they were not related. But the crooked detective in front of him was in fact, his legal guardian. His step father.

Toddlun smirked and plopped down in his chair. “Your wrap sheet is a mile long kid. I didn’t even have to help this one out.” He gave Reeve a mocking round of applause, “Congratulations Reeve Dyson! You just graduated from petty theft and assault, to grand theft, larcey, armed robbery, and a whole heap of cyber crimes! You’re goin to prison buddy!” He checked his chrono and grinned wide, genuinely happy, “And all an hour before your 18th birthday. I’m gonna be rich, and you’re going to be out of my hair for good. I’m going to have a nice big steak in your honor tonight.”

Reeve snorted and looked at the floor in defeat, “What’s the damage?”

The detective kicked his feet up on his desk and lit a cigar before speaking again, “Oh! I had a word with the judge, real sweetheart of a deal! You’re facin’ twenty years hard time in federal prison. But I talked them down a bit, got you 18 years without parole given your violent history, and your bail was set at the low, low amount of 200,000 creds. That’s only a fraction of the worth of the electrum you dumped into the canal by the way.”

“That’s ironic.” Reeve said with a humorless smile as he looked up, “Seeing as the trust fund my mom left is 200 thousand. Since I’ll be in prison, my legal guardian gets access to that money the second I turn 18. I don’t suppose you’d spring bail for me? If you do, I’ll just disappear. You won’t have to hear from me again. I promise.”

Last chance douche bag. Take the out and I’ll spare you.

Toddlun roared with laughter. “You want me to post bail?! Are you kidding? I’ve got plans for that cash! And why would I need your promise? I’m never going to see you again! With that messed up brain rattling around your skull, you’ll be getting into fights in prison every day. They’ll release you back into society the day the Jedi and Sith marry into one Order!”

Oh well. I gave you the chance…

“So what was the bribe on this one Todd? The judge is a droid here too, what’d you do? Offer him some of your lube?”

Todd stopped laughing and went straight to angry again. He stood sharply and Reeve rose to meet him, getting right in his face as he bumped against the desk.

“Go on! DO IT! Hit me tough guy! Show all the straight cops here how crooked you really are! I swear to all the mystics in the stars, if you lay a finger on me old man, the last thing you’re gonna taste in that steak is the leather from my FRAKKIN BOOT!!” Reeve yelled at the taller man. Todd grabbed up a handful of Reeve’s shirt and cocked his fist back. But for the first time he hesitated. This time, Reeve wasn’t showing the fear he usually had when staring down Todd’s fist. Toddlun was lost in the fire he found behind those eyes. Instead of punching Reeve in the face, as he was want to do, Toddlun shoved him back into the chair with a nervous smirk. “You’re not worth it anymore boy, you’re going away for a long, long time.”

Reeve huffed and shifted his shoulder, malice evident in his features as he muttered, “Pfeh...coward…”

A few minutes later, a couple of other officers escorted Reeve to the holding cells, where he would await formal trial. The thing about Toddlun Morris, was that he’d schemed and bought his way to the rank of detective. He’d cheated and bribed, and while he was an excellent conman, he wasn’t all that great of a detective.

So when Reeve was gone, Toddlun didn’t even notice that the custom bracer riddled with personal tech upgrades, was now missing from his desk...

[Ghostie]

“Hey, Kinner. Not sure if yer still alive, but I’ve heard some rumors, especially after that thing on Yaga Minor. Y’know how it goes…” The little hologram displayed an elderly Rodian, tall and thin, and in poor health. He leaned on a cane under one hand, and wore a breathing apparatus that was wrapped around the nostrils on his long, slightly drooping snout. Yet despite his frail appearance and the sudden, random coughs he gave off, he still held a gaze which could turn one cold to the bone. It pierced right through an individual, and could see to the center of their soul if they let it. “... Anyways, I’m still here on Abregado-Rae. There’s some trouble stirrin’ up, and yer th’ guy I need.”

Abregado-Rae was a beautiful facade pulled over a backwater, slimey planet. Between the stone work of the buildings and the old bridges, and the quiet floating on gondolas up and down the canals that cut all through its capital and spaceport instead of streets and pedways, the planet had the potential to be quite the tourist destination. But take one wrong turn, cross the wrong bridge into someone’s territory who was not particularly welcoming to outsiders, and you might as well be on Nar Shaddaa for all the residents of Abregado-Rae cared. Crime was rampant on the planet. As a young man, Aren had usually been quite careful about where he went. Now, returning for the first time since becoming a battle-harden Mandalorian, he was quite certain that he himself was the scariest thing on the streets at this time of day.

And he wasn’t even in his beskar’gam.

"Remember Vanel Dyson? Nevermind, of course y’remember Vanel. No one could pry ya offa each other... Stinkin’ kids... Anyways, she had a son. Lil’ runt named Reeve. Brat of a kid, didn’t have a very good family situation. Anyways, he jus’ got pinched by the locals An’... An’ I don’t know!” The Rodian’s voice was raised for the first time in the holomessage, not out of anger from any one individual, but from frustration all around him. Looking out for someone else besides himself was outside of the man’s repertoire, and he clearly was not dealing with the change well. “Vanel said if anythin’ ever happened t’him, t’give ya a call. And y’always did right by me, Aren. Even when y’got pinched yerself. Never gave anythin’ up. So… This is me doin’ right by the two of ya. We’re even.”

Rando always did have a way about him, Aren knew. A chilly way of keeping people close to him at arms length, and yet still trying to care about them as if they were family. The Mandalorian had never really seen through the charade until he was older, but he figured that the Rodian was old, lonely, and afraid of being hurt. Still, as Aren walked through one of the street markets towards the precinct he needed, waves of memories came flooding back to mind as Rando’s words echoed throughout his head, unperturbed by the hustle and bustle of the crowd around him. Vanel’s beautiful, small smile and her long, silky dark hair. The two of them running and busting through markets just like this after a job for the Rodian. Rando always throwing parts and tools around the garage when he lost his temper. The night Aren was arrested himself for attempting to steal a speeder for the Rodian. His mother passing away. All of them, even the bad, brought a small smile to Aren’s face. A lot could change in only a couple decades.

“An’ Aren…” Rando’s message hadn’t finished there. His voice grew low and conspiratorial, and he looked right into the camera, hunching forward on his cane a bit. “.. Vanel, she had Reeve not long after y’left Abregado. He’s ‘bout the right age, and, well… Y’know I don’t like dealing with hearsay, but the way I see it, gotta be a reason she told me t’call you if somethin’ ever happened.” And with that, the Rodian’s message had finally cut out.

Aren would have headed to Abregado-Rae to help out this Reeve, even without the last part. He would have seen it as a favor for an old flame and friend, something that did not need to be asked of twice. This last part, however, most definitely gave Aren a pause. He had mulled it over in his head, off to the side or the back of his mind on his whole flight into Abregado-Rae and his walk across the canal-laced city. He had almost considered the fact that Rando had been pulling on his leg, but a quick glance at a news holocast about that morning’s heist with all of Reeve Dyson’s particulars, and Aren could confirm that all the details looked right.

That still didn’t exactly confirm anything, though. Even if the kid did look like him.

Truth be told, Aren wasn’t sure to make of this new revelation. The fact that he might have a son did not bother him in the slightest. It was no secret that he and Vanel had been in love, before Aren had been arrested and opted to serve his time in the military rather than jail. The fact that he might have a son whom he had no idea existed until the young man was nearly adult did bother him, though. He couldn’t for the life him figure out why Vanel had never bothered to contact him with such news, and that was rather upsetting. Yet, Aren felt he had no right to be upset. If this Reeve was indeed his, then he had grown up without a father, much of the same way that Aren had, as well. And that thought weighed on the Mandalorian like a ball of durasteel in his stomach. Either way, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to broach the subject with the young man. Not yet, at least. That was one conversation Aren found himself wanting to avoid, if at all possible. Ori’ramikade and Clan Leader, and yet a stranger who may or may not be his offspring made Aren hesitate and want to retreat.

Pushing through the rotating door of the local security precinct, It seemed that nothing had changed in the nearly two decades since Aren himself had been arrested. The same old tile, worn by the years, was under his boots as he shuffled along. The same muted, light blue paint was starting to peel away from the walls. The same ceiling fan was creaking at the top of the room, looming over it’s occupants with a threatening groan every now and then. And if Aren was right, the same woman, a green Twi’lek whom looked rather bored, sat behind the same front desk. For all that could change in a few decades, some things were simply stuck in time. Walking slowly up to the desk, when Aren reached it, he reached up and removed the round pair of chrome sunglasses he wore, hanging them on the front of his shirt. As if on cue, the Twi’lek spoke up in a tired voice, her face not moving from her magazine on the top of the desk.

“If you’re lookin’ for bounties, you’re gunna have to wait for the detectives to get back in.” The alien announced in a well-practiced voice that carried throughout the whole front room. Smiling a bit, Aren shook his head, but both gestures were lost on the woman who didn’t even acknowledge him.

“Maybe next time.” He responded, and reached into his back pocket for his wallet. Putting an identification chip and a credit card on the counter so that they were in the Twi’lek’s view, Aren went on. “I’m here to post bail for someone.”

“Name of the detainee?” The bored voice asked, head still unmoving. Aren cleared his throat a bit, and then answered.

“Reeve Dyson.” The room was silent for a few moments, and the Twi’leki woman finally craned her head up at Aren, her old purple eyes as round as saucers, her mouth slightly agape.

“You realise his bail is set at 200,000 credits, right?”

“Oh yeah, I know. Kid’s a shit driver.” The Twi’lek, still staring at Aren in a shocked disbelief, scooped up the Mandalorian’s cards and processed both at a computer terminal on the opposite wall of her desk. There was a muted exclamation that Aren couldn’t quite make out as the payment was processed in full from one of the Mandalorian’s credit accounts, and a few seconds later the alien returned the pair of cards to their rightful owner.

“Takes about an hour for paperwork and outprocessing.” She said matter-of-factly, her bored tone returning. “You don’t need to be around anymore if you don’t want too.”

“I’ll be waiting outside. There isn’t another exit, is there?” The Twi’leki woman shook her head at Aren’s question.

“Just the garage, and that’s off-limits to civvies.” And with that, Aren went back outside of the precinct, and waited.

Back leaning against the front of the building, he watched the crowded street market in front of him as patrons passed through. One cigarette later, and the Mandalorian was starting to wonder if Reeve was worth the wait. On the second, Aren was contemplating the fact that circumstantial evidence pointed to the young man being his son. He still wasn’t sure how he felt about that. His mind was made up that he didn’t want to approach the topic with a ten foot pole. It wasn’t a conversation he was going to win. On the third cigarette, Aren finally noticed the sun was starting to set. And that was when he had enough of the waiting. Reeve should have been out-processed by now, and they should be talking over a beer and some local food in whatever cantina was close.

But like everything else on Abregado-Rae, the local security force was just a nice facade pulled over something backwater and slimey. And Aren was going to spring Reeve Dyson, a young man he had never met, from jail.

One way or another.

---

It was almost the middle of the night by the time Aren’s preparation had finally been completed. What he was about to do, he felt no remorse or guilt over. After all, the locals had left him with very little choice, and had scammed him out of two-hundred-thousand credits. Unfortunately for them, they had picked the wrong young man and the wrong Mandalorian to try and pull one over on. And besides, Aren had checked with the Twi’lek at the front desk before he went ahead with his plan. Reeve was still sitting in a jail cell. A jail cell surrounded by water and canals, like everything else on Abregado-Rae. Also like everything else on Abregado-Rae, there wasn’t a lot of advanced technology to keep adversaries at bay.

The boat that Aren had rent was small and speedy, unlike the normal gondolas one would see in the canals, perfect for the task at hand. One armored hand gently and quietly guided it up to the side of the jail, while the other grabbed the helmet to Aren’s beskar’gam, and slid it over his head with one smooth motion. Standing still on the boat for a moment as it came to it’s slow rest, bobbing up and down in the water, Aren kept the engine warm and running, before checking that his ropes, hooks, and weapons were all as ready as the vehicle was. Confident in his equipment, Aren hoisted himself up to the window of the cell, using the bars as handles. He couldn’t hold himself long, not in full beskar’gam, but a quick peek of his armored head told him he had the right one. The news program earlier had given a clear depiction of Reeve.

“Ready to get outta here, Kid?” He whispered to the cell’s lone occupant, before dropping back down to the boat. The boat gave a low dip to Aren’s side and a bit of a splash, but it thankfully held the weight of his armor. Grabbing the rope and grappling hook he had prepared, the Mandalorian gave the hook a few slow swings, before throwing it at the bars on the window. With a whoosh of air and the clang of a secure line, Aren tied off the other end on the boat. Situating himself in front of the vehicle’s controls at that point. Aren gave the boat full throttle. It struggled against the bars and the old brick of the jail and precinct, but after a few seconds of top acceleration the whole thing started to give to the boat’s powerful engine.

A moment later, there was a loud crash followed by several thunderous splashes and a thick cloud of dust as the wall gave way, revealing the jail cell to the outside world. The few pieces of brick and durasteel which didn’t end up in the water rained down on Aren’s boat, clattering against its own metal hull. Then there was screaming from inside the building, from all parties and rather incoherent from where the Mandalorian was standing. But he could see officers busying themselves on the other side of Reeve’s cell as they attempted to secure their prisoner.

“C’MON, KID!” Aren yelled over the comotion. Grabbing his blaster carbine from a seat nearby, he took aim at the officers on the other side of the cell, not bothering to switch its power setting as he peppered the metal bars inside the building with the red heat of blasterfire.

[tenkalus]

One year. It had taken Reeve an entire year to plan this whole thing out. He’d had to break in to the security forces computers by remote, test their procedures, probe them and see where they were weakest. He had to go as far as familiarizing himself with their lockup procedures and what happened at what time of day.

Abregado-rae was something of a digital playground for a person like Reeve though. They were a backwater by all means, but just tech enough to rate higher than a place like Tatooine in the galactic scale. That meant that most of their infrastructure was analog but was technologically integrated enough to seem fancy to the locals.

“Time’s up you little turd.”

“Shouldn’t talk about your mother like that, Todd.” Reeve shot back, not looking up for the moment.

Reeve was huddled up on his small perch on the wall mounted bed in his cell. Toddlun was standing before the bars with a shit-eating grin on his face. Reeve was wrapped up in the government issued blanket all detainees received after third shift began because they were staying the night, and he was huddled under it for warmth. “You’ve been 18 for three minutes now Dyson. I’m heading down to the bank right now. Even got myself a nice juicy bonus from some idiot who tried posting your bail! So I’m going have that fancy dinner, get good and sloshed, maybe pick up some of your mom’s old girlfriends, and have myself a good night. What luck, right? Tomorrow morning, I’ll show up to work refreshed and just in time to watch you get carted off to prison. Happy birthday Reeve Dyson. I think I’ll go and celebrate on your behalf.”

Reeve tilted his head down, looking into the folds of the blanket wrapped around him. “Kiss my ass, Todd...” He muttered back in defeat. His step-father laughed heartily and walked out.

Who had been dumb enough to try and post his bail? Reeve didn’t have any friends to speak of, and certainly no one who cared enough about him to drop 200k on him.

A whole year.

He’d planned everything down to the last detail. The real trick had been getting his exit strategy. It was the only part of the plan that he had unknown factors playing against him. The idea was to wait till Toddlun left for the day, then he’d slice security and open his cell by remote. Then Ziggy would execute the program Reeve wrote for him, which would effectively break into the planetary database and erase Reeve Dyson from existence. Reeve would walk out of the security station as a ghost and find passage offworld via starport.

But there was the problem.

Reeve could plan for the shift changes, and the blanket that now hid his hands, pecking away at the mini keyboard on his wrist. He could plan for Toddlun’s greed and even for the level of computer security he would run into while erasing himself. What he couldn’t plan for, was reliable transportation offworld. Pilots came and went quickly from the port. He could hire someone, but he didn’t have the money to make it worth their while. At least, not yet. But that was the thing with freighter pilots. Very few of them worked off of the promise of cash. And anyone who did would be the desperate sort, who would take Reeve’s money then spin around and turn him in for a reward from the police.

Dog eat dog.

He’d wing it. That’s all he could do. Things would work out in the end, he had to believe that. He had to believe that Toddlun wouldn’t get away with his schemes.

All that was standing in his way, was a single command, and a strand of fate.

With a sigh in the darkness of his cell, Reeve resigned himself to the current, pulling him through time. “Ziggy. Execute “Daddy Dearest” protocol.” he whispered.

**Acknowledged** came the digitized voice.

All he could do now was wait.

He didn’t have to wait long. By the time Toddlun got to the bank to claim Reeve’s inheritance, Ziggy had already cracked his account and siphoned the funds off to distributed them over a dozen different shadow accounts. At the same time, another program was running on top of it. Reeve had built in a secondary function to the program that utilized the tracking algorithm he’d planted in Todd’s workstation via datacard when he’d retrieved his tech gaunt. Toddlun always underestimated Reeve, and Dyson knew that. He’d grabbed his gauntlet with one hand and slipped the card into the computer with the other.

Now, a second account was draining by the second. Toddlun’s retirement plan dwindled down to zero as it joined Reeve’s growing fortune in cyberspace. It was back-pay for years spent as an emotional prisoner, by Reeve’s reckoning. Toddlun would have a real hard time picking up hookers now, he didn’t have a credit to his name. Just a small stash held off in reserve in case his dirty secrets were revealed.

Reeve also happened to know that Detective Toddlun had hedged his bets on Reeve’s money. He had taken out a hefty loan from some disreputable people that had been lost on gambling. 50 large, as Reeve found out. Today was the day Toddlun was going to pay it back.

And now he had only the clothes on his back and some liquid assets he wouldn’t be able to turn around fast enough. Reeve knew that the mob would be compensated for their loss. They’d take it out of Todd’s hide. When he realized his money was gone, Toddlun would run. Without money he wouldn’t get off planet so he’d go into hiding at one of the security forces safe houses, used for their undercover cops. Reeve had even narrowed it down to one, as he dug into Todd’s history. It was where he went after big deals on the street. It was where his stash would be. Reeve wasn’t able to take any of that, as it was physical cash and assets.

So he did the next best thing and sent the address to the mob boss holding the slip for Todd’s loan. They’d get their money back, and Todd would be wrapped up in a nice bow for them.

Toddlun’s life, was over.

“Ready to get out of here, Kid?”

Reeve started. He looked up to his window and saw the top of a helmet disappearing from the bars outside. “Wha-?” He asked the darkness. Had he been hearing things? It was tough to focus on slicing and stay relative to the outside world.

“DYSON!!!!” Came a shout from the other side of the bars. Toddlun was back and red in the face.

No… no no no, it wasn’t supposed to happen like this, it’s too soon!

And then came the clang of metal on metal, Reeve spun again and frowned at the grapple line now hooked to his window. “What the f-”

But he didn’t get time to finish as Todd reached through the bars and snatched up two fist-fulls of Reeve’s shirt.

“WHERE IS MY MONEY!?” He screamed through the cage separating them.

Reeve could see the panic in his step-father’s eyes. Toddlun knew he was screwed. He knew he’d been outplayed. He knew….

….That the wall behind Reeve had just collapsed outward.

“C’MON, KID!”

Reeve’s attention was torn in every direction. Officers were shouting. Todd was shouting. and the person behind him was shouting, and shooting now it seemed as well, above it all.

And somehow, Reeve found peace in that moment. He turned and looked directly into Toddlun’s eyes and smiled. He grabbed the fabric of Todd’s sleeves and shouted above the madness and chaos.

“Sorry dad! I decided not to stay for my birthday! I don’t have your money on me but here’s a tip!”

Reeve grunted and put his boot on the bars and wrenched backward. Todd was thrown off balance and slammed his forehead into the glowing bars, now heated by the blaster shots being dumped into them. Immediately, Todd’s grip slackened and he slumped back. He would have screamed as his head was burned, but he was already unconscious.

“Have a free concussion, on me! That’s for my mom, you son of a bitch!” With that Reeve backed away, flicked the tip of his nose with his thumb, cocked his head back and spit through the bars at Todd’s feet. He then noticed that the other officers were pinned down against the outside walls of his cell, trying not to take fire. “Don’t move Dyson!!” One of them yelled at him.

But Reeve backed up and extended both middle fingers with a coy smile. “Sorry boys, my ride’s here! Tell the manager his blankets were itchy and the room service sucked!!”

He chuckled hard and turned to run out the new hole in his former prison, only to have missed the fact that bricks were loose all over the place. He planted his foot on one and slipped in the dust and debris, then crashed to the floor with a fiery jab of pain shooting up his ankle.

More embarrassed than hurt, Reeve scrambled under the blaster fire and rolled out of the cell into the boat his rescuer was standing in. He didn’t even wait to be told otherwise, he pushed off the deck and into the driver’s seat, a fresh shot of pain firmly telling him he had a badly sprained ankle.

“HANG ON!” he shouted to the mysterious hulking armor as he gunned the throttle and sent the boat roaring down the canal with enough power to lift the front end out of the water and send them skipping along the surface.

Reeve let out a whoop of exhilaration. “Wooooooo!!! HELL YEAH!” He looked back over his shoulder and saw the officers cresting the edge of the cell and red bolts were sent their way. But they were already out of effective range.

“Hey not that I’m complaining, but just who in the actual hell, are you?!” he shouted to his rescuer above the roar of the engines.

He spun the wheel on the control stalk and pitched the boat left into a side canal. The security forces wouldn’t send air support for the prison break. The canals were too tight for air vehicles to maneuver with the height of the buildings. But that didn’t stop the sound of sirens ringing out behind and around them as the nautical pursuit units spun up.

Damn, they mobilized fast!

“Ziggy! Execute “Ghost” protocol!”

**Acknowledged**

He pulled back on the throttle a little so he would have more control rounding turns in the canals, and goosed them forward again as the vessel straightened up again. All the while, Ziggy was overriding security and erasing Reeve Dyson from the central records of Abregado-rae.

[Ghostie]

Dyson was taking too long. Aren could hear just enough above his suppressive blasterfire to know that he was talking to one of the cops on the other side of the bars. He could see out of the corner of his eye that there was a grapple ensuring through the glowing metal beams. But in the Mandalorian’s mind, no matter what it was, it simply wasn’t worth it. His power pack was going to run out eventually, and then in the few seconds it took him to switch cells in his carbine, someone could stun Dyson, or grab him from the cell, and Aren’s other weapons wouldn’t be able to help, as they weren’t exactly as precise as the blaster he was using now.

Whoever’s son Dyson was, between this time wasting and the shipment of electrum lost in the canals, Aren figured he couldn’t be the sharpest tool in the shed.

And then as if on cue with Aren’s thoughts, Dyson turned, and tripped on debris from the now destroyed wall. The Mandalorian saw just enough to see the Kid’s top half vanish from view, and hear the smack of flesh on the hard floor of the cell. Aren paused firing for the moment, a bit stunned at what just happened. It seemed everyone was, as Aren didn’t hear any shouting or see any return fire bearing down on him. Inside his helmet, he sighed, and gave his eyes a bit of roll at the Kid’s clumsiness. But in the flash, Dyson was on his feet again, and hobbling towards the newly created exit. Once he was free and jumping down towards the boat, Aren lowered his carbine and raised his wrist, shooting a jet of flame into the cell that Dyson had just vacated, quickly waving it back and forth to scatter any would be pursuers.

“Drive!”

The Kid let off a whoop and a holler, and then Aren felt the boat speed up under his armored boots, as Dyson had made it to the controls just as Aren was giving direction. At least despite wasting time and money, he knew exactly where he was suppose to be. Crouching in the back of the boat and keeping an eye out for law enforcement vehicles, Aren let Dyson’s question linger for a moment. Who was he? Potentially the Kid’s father? Someone who was simply fulfilling a request for his mom? This question made Aren’s heart beat into his ears, and he felt his throat tighten up. Give him Abregado-rae’s local security forces any day of the week.

“I’m the guy that posted your bail about twelve hours ago.” Aren finally decided on, his voice even and simple. Blue and red lights could been seen bouncing off of the walls of the canal further down and behind their boat, against what was now the roaring orange fire of the local precinct. Sirens wailed in the distance. As fast as Dyson was driving, and as fast as their boat was was, the security force would be on them soon. Looking over his shoulder, Aren started to give more directions. “Y’know Rondo’s Garage? That chop-shop by the Spaceport? Get us there.”

“STOP YOUR VEHICLE, YOU’RE UNDER ARREST!”

Aren lost Dyson’s answer in the wail of the sirens and the booming of the loudspeaker as the security forces gained on their boat rapidly. Two boats for now, still behind them, but well within firing distance. Their spotlights shone on Aren, and his visor immediately dimmed against the sudden brightness. Without waiting for a second command to stop their vehicle, Aren answered the officers by raising a wrist and firing a small rocket at the water line of one of the boats. There was a roar of a small explosion as a red-orange fireball tore apart the nose of the craft. The shock sent the boat tumbling forward aft-over-nose, and the security personnel were ejected by the spin. With his free hand, Aren drew one of the pistols at his hips, and fired on the second boat. Not enough damage to knock the craft out of the pursuit, but enough to make the officers duck back and re-evaluate the situation, especially once Aren brought his second pistol into the fight as well, and the firefight lit up the canals in the darkness of night.

“Keep driving, I got these guys! And keep your head down!”

The second boat started to return fire on Aren and Dyson, and the Mandalorian situated his bulk of beskar’gam in between the barrage and the Kid at the controls of his boat. Given that Aren had effectively set one of their precincts ablaze and just blew one of their boats out of the water, he was hardly surprised when the stun bolts the security forces had used before were upgraded to full-power. Nonetheless, the bright green bolts still glanced off of his crimson armor like nothing more than wadded-up paper. Standing on the deck of the boat, now, Aren fired with boths hands on their pursuers, and after awhile both boats were filled with their own set of blaster holes. But there were more sirens echoing all around the canals. It was time for an escape plan.

“Take Channar Tunnel on the next right! We can lose them under Kalla Bridge!”

[tenkalus]

The guy who posted bail? Why would someone who didn’t even know him post bail? That was a lot of credits to throw up willy nilly for someone you didn’t know.

Reeve jerked the wheel of the boat hard to the left as they came to a T intersection. “Hang on!” he yelled above the din of battle and roar of engines. And not wanting to fall victim of not taking his own advice, he braced his right leg against the deck of the boat and soaked up the inertia as the craft tilted sideways momentarily.

And Rondo’s Garage? “Yeah I know Rondo’s!” he responded in a mask of confusion. Anyone who had ever managed to steal something off the streets of the city knew who Rondo was. Reeve himself had kept his thieving to automated cash spots and computer hardware surplus. Rondo himself primarily dealt in speeder parts and swoops. But Reeve had occasionally found himself doing some programming for the old Rodian. Erasing transponder ID’s and creating new ones for a small fee or some food.

But he’d never done enough work for Rondo to have thought the Rodian would send an enforcer to first post bail, and failing that, bust Reeve out of jail the hard way. He didn’t have any favors to call in from Rondo either, so why were they going to his place?

“You had better hope we are invited to the old man’s place!” he shouted at the armored colossus behind him spraying the police with blaster fire. “He doesn’t take kindly to uninvited guests with this much heat on them!”

And heat, they had aplenty. By now a BOLO would be out for the two of them and going city wide. He could take care of that if he got to a network terminal though.

Reeve tilted the wheel to the right, following directions instinctively in his mind. He had to take Channar Tunnel on the right and get to Kalla bridge.

But he immediately jerked the wheel back to the left, setting them back on their previous course as his mind did a mental double-take. The sudden shift was unexpected and he was nearly squished against the controls as the walking tank behind him lost balance and fell into his back.

“Are you trying to get us killed?!” Reeve yelled and tried to shrug the man off of him so he could sit back up. “Channar tunnel was closed up 7 years ago! It’s a dead end!”

When Reeve was younger, it had been a big deal on the local news. Channar tunnel was once a well traveled water tube that merchants used to get their goods from one end of the city to the other. It honeycombed the heart of the city in a dozen twisting and winding directions. But because it was so large, the police had found it was also hard to monitor and realized that it was a breeding ground for piracy. When it had been established by the criminal underworld that it was fairly easy to rob people in the tunnels, the government had had decided to seal up all entrances and abandon them altogether. It was now claimed by the homeless and dregs of society, and was only accessible on foot through a series of manholes throughout the city. They called it Darktown now. Why wouldn’t this guy know that? Was he an off-worlder?

His armor certainly didn’t look familiar. It looked ancient in fact. Whatever it was made of though, it could certainly take a lot of punishment. Reeve made a mental note not to cross his rescuer unless he had serious artillery. That the armor could defend against direct fire was one thing. But taking a blaster bolt to the chest was still like getting punched by a Wookie wearing gauntlets. That the armored hulk was taking the shots and remaining on his feet also spoke to the physical strength and conditioning of the man beneath the plates. That, and his training as well. He was used to taking this kind of abuse and walking away from it.

Who was this guy?

It was a question for when they weren’t getting shot at. Even if they managed to get captured, the man with the blasters would be taking the wrap for it. Reeve would get lost in the processing, as he no longer existed in the database. His prints would bring up nothing, his birth records would be a zero return. It didn’t matter what Todd knew, they could never prove who Reeve was in the system. If he was ever arrested on the planet, they would have to start a fresh file from scratch, and at this point he could easily claimed he’d been kidnapped from prison. Without a wrap sheet, Reeve Dyson would walk out of jail by the end of the day.

Maybe it would fly, maybe it wouldn’t. But that was something to be explored if they got captured. Reeve really didn’t have any inclination to get arrested again. He was ready to get off this rock, as it held nothing else for him now.

But where would he go? He had no destination in mind except “away”.

He shook his head free of the burdening thoughts and returned to the now. Things were too dangerous to be thinking about anything other than survival right now.

The next turn brought them into more open waters, very near the bridge Reeve had driven the electrum truck off of in fact. The place would still be bustling with activity normally, but it was late now. The sun was about to set and recovery crews would be going home for the day. It put him a bit more at ease. He didn’t feel the need to drag bystanders into this chase if he could help it.

Reeve’s ankle was starting the throb fiercely. They needed to end this chase soon so he could get off of it. Rondo’s wasn’t real far but they’d need to lose their heat before going there. He knew they wouldn’t be getting off planet tonight. Not with all the law enforcement looking for them.

Before all of this, Reeve had had a plan to get off planet. He had a stash of clothes and gear he had wanted to take with him. All of the valuables that he’d accumulated over the years. It was a sad collection of second and third hand equipment, some data cards containing custom programs he’d written, and the paltry amount of clothing he’d picked up, most of it not fitting him properly. But it was all, at the very least, his. The only things he had to his name. Well, that and now he had his inheritance money spread out over dozens of accounts all over the galaxy so Todd could never touch it. He had a small fortune now, or he would, assuming he didn’t get killed or arrested.

The water erupted all around them and the cacophony of noise grew even louder as a flyer zipped into existence and peppered the water with warning shots. A voice echoed across the water from the wailer on the small shuttle. “SHUT IT DOWN, NOW!”

Reeve was getting tired of all of this. He doubted that his rescuer would go down without a fight, as at this point, he didn’t exactly have a great record of not resisting arrest. But going to war with the police tonight wouldn’t gain them freedom. Reeve slammed the throttle backward, causing a very sudden shift in inertia as the water craft engaged reverse thrust. He had the foresight to duck down this time as his armored rescuer went barreling over his shoulder and thunked heavily into the front of the boat as it suddenly slowed. The weight of the impact nearly tipped the nose down into the water and threatened to launch Reeve himself out into the water.

“Ziggy, what’s the signal strength on the flyer?” Reeve muttered and slowly raised his hands in surrender as the boat came to a floating halt

**Flyer is within range, line of sight is providing strong signal.**

“DON’T EVEN THINK ABOUT TOUCHING THAT GAUNTLET, DYSON.” The pilot of the flyer issued through his speaker.

Wasn’t planning on it. He thought to himself.

“Ziggy, break in.”

**Acknowledged**

It didn’t happen immediately. Slicing was an art form. It took finesse and skill. But even the greatest skill had to work through security protocols. Reeve had been around long enough to program Ziggy with every backdoor and trick that the police used in their everyday lives. It wasn’t fair really, they had superior numbers, superior firepower and stood for law and order. Most of them anyway.

But Reeve had a computer and they’d chosen to try and take him down with technology that relied on power and signals. So they never had a chance.

Two pursuit boats came in from opposite directions to close in on them slowly while the flyer hovered a dozen feet off the surface of the water.

**Break in confirmed**

Reeve grinned.

“Ziggy, make a 45 degree turn to the left and target the engines on the pursuit boat, then swing around and do the same for the other. When they are pacified, repeat for the pursuit craft behind us.”

“WHAT ARE YOU SAYING DYSON? YOU CAN’T TALK YOUR WAY OUT OF THIS ONE!”

Reeve mumbled and the flyer edged closer.

“WHAT WAS THAT?”

Reeve raised his voice. “I said, Execute!”

Now it was the pilots turn to be surprised by a shift in inertia, his craft zipped to the left suddenly, throwing him to the side within the cockpit, apparently he’d forgotten his restraints in his haste to get into the air. The craft then lit up the police boat engine housing, scattering the officers into the water as they jumped away from the sudden fire. A short explosion lit up the waning light of the sky as the motor went up, and the process repeated to the shocked officers on the opposite side and behind their escape vessel. In the cockpit, the pilot was wrestling desperately with controls and flipping switches to try and regain control. But it wasn’t the controls that had malfunctioned, it was the programming that governed them. Hardware was governed by the power being directed to it. The power flowed between each bit of equipment, and told the equipment what to do, which was in turn only possible when the software within the equipment worked in tandem with the hardware and told the power what to do and where to go.

“Nicely done pal. Bring the flyer to an altitude of 4 meters and trigger the onboard fire protocols to dump the fuel. Execute.”

**Acknowledged**

The flyer inched down to the water and safety foam began to fill the cockpit from an overhead nozzle, splashing the bewildered pilot around the same time as the fuel began to leak down into the water. After a moment, the flyer couldn’t keep itself in the air and it splashed down into the water and powered down.

When it was quiet again, Reeve slowly engaged the throttle and gently maneuvered their boat around the swimming officers as though he were on a pleasure cruise.

“Dyson! S-stop!” One of them struggled through a mouthful of canal water.

Reeve looked back and nodded in exaggerated understanding. “Don’t worry, I got you guy.”

A flotation donut splashed into the water by the officer as the boat cruised on, back into the canals and toward Rondo’s Garage.

[Ghostie]

The Mandalorian had it all planned out in his head; lose most of the pursuit in the tunnel, if the Kid could drive worth a damn. Then once they were under Kalla Bridge, Aren would grab Reeve, and use his jetpack to fly up into the duracrete supports. They would hang out there for a moment as the locals pursued an empty boat, and when the coast was mostly clear, head to Rondo’s Garage, which was a short walk away from the Bridge. If all went well, and Aren had the chance to keep his armor out of sight, they could be off-planet by morning. He had to admit, a small part of his mind told him that this was a whole lot of effort to go through in order to save a kid that may or may not be his from prison.

Still, Aren supposed he owed Vanel and Reeve both this much, at least.

But as another bolt of green energy bounced off of Aren’s chest, jerking his shoulder a bit under the jolt, it was clear that things were not going well. Growling a bit under the crimson helmet, Aren braced his feet, expecting Reeve to turn as he noticed a few old landmarks pass by, which pointed to Channar Tunnel. Holstering one of his pistols, Aren loaded another miniature rocket into his wrist launcher, and took aim at the point on the second security boat where the vessel met the water. Waiting just a moment for Reeve to turn, Aren was jerked backwards as he fired, landing on top of Reeve so that they were back-to-back, as the Kid jerked the wheel back and forth, continuing on his original course.
“What the hell are you doing?!” Aren growled, as a small eruption of water went up between them and the pursuit boat, the rocket that he had fired detonation on the floor of the canal.

“Are you trying to get us killed?! Channar Tunnel was closed up 7 years ago! It’s a dead end!”

Closed seven years ago? That surprised Aren enough to make the man go wide eyed under his helmet for a moment, before the security forces following them started to shoot again. Extracting himself off of Reeve, Aren holstered his second pistol, and began looking for his blaster carbine, hoping it hadn’t slid off of the boat in their little chase. Channar Tunnel had been one of the heaviest used routes to get across the city. Then Aren thought of all the speeders he had stolen for Rondo in Channar Tunnel, which made him think of all the other countless crimes that had been committed, more heinous than his own assuredly. No, now closing Channar Tunnel made sense. Damn this planet for changing so much in twenty years.

Finally popping back up with his blaster carbine, Aren started to pepper the boat still chasing them with a little more artillery. With the Tunnel closed, he was fresh out of ideas for the moment, other than to keep receiving blasterbolts, and dishing them out in equal measure. The canal widened rapidly, and before Aren could blink, they were in open water. It was at that moment an airspeeder painted in security colors flew low over Aren and Reeve’s boat, peppering the water with warning shots. That made even the Mandalorian stop, and wonder how this chase had grown so ridiculous, so quickly. Luckily, he had enough firepower to keep up. He could probably hit that speeder with the large missile on his jetpack, but he would have a better chance if he flew after it. That, though, would mean leaving Reeve undefended. And he couldn’t do that; in the best case scenario, they’d both be back at square one.

Thinking about his next steps, Aren knew he hadn’t wanted to start a war with the entire security force. He had only wanted to get Reeve out of jail. And when the system hadn’t played by the system’s own rules, Aren made up his own. Perhaps he shouldn’t have set half of their precinct ablaze.

“SHUT IT DOWN, NOW!”

Aren hadn’t been expected Reeve to comply, this time. He had expected the Kid to keep driving. Caught off-guard, Aren flew backwards to the front of the boat once again. But this time, he missed Reeve. He missed the control console. Instead, the large hulk of crimson beskar’gam flew through the transpirasteel viewport, the glass shattered with several thousand snaps. Luckily, the man crumpled up in the nose of the boat, dazed and confused, but awake, and not drowning in the canals of Abregado-Rae. The entire vessel shifted with his weight, but it stayed afloat.

Everything was a blur, for the next few moment’s of Aren’s life. He had landed in a sitting position, wedged between either side of the hull of the boat. Reeve was muttering something inaudible. The security forces were shouting, and shining lights, but making no sense at all. And the entire world was shifting back and forth far more wildly than it should have been. Aren did recongise something, though. The airspeeder had come back into his view. Raising his wrist launcher, Aren tried to take aim, but he was swaying a bit back and forth. Closing his fist and firing, there was a click as the launcher indicated it was empty. So the Mandalorian tried again, and again, and again, with the same results each time. It was at that moment the airspeeder turned sharply, fired on something else in the water, and then were was a monstrous splash as the vehicle landed itself in the canals.

By that time, Aren was feeling well enough to stand. The world had stopped swaying so dramatically, and he could make sense of words once again. Staggering a bit towards Reeve, blaster carbine in one hand, Aren looked about at the scene around him. The boats that had caught up to them were little more than flaming wrecks, floating on the surface. The airspeeder was slowly sinking just behind them, dark as the pilot extracted themselves from the wreckage. Most of the security personnel looked like they’d live, at the very least. And there were no more reinforcements with their blinding lights and blaring sirens on the horizon. Looking at Reeve, who was looking quite proud of himself, Aren gave the Kid a curt nod.

“Nice work, Ad’ika.” Aren said, with a hint of pride in his voice.

---

“Right here is fine… Nice and easy…” Aren directed Reeve a bit more gently than perhaps he would have someone else. But after the Kid’s little stunt with the airspeeder, he deserved it. Once Aren’s head had cleared up and they navigated the wreckage around them, it hadn’t taken long to find a suitable dock, not far from Rondo’s Garage. Reeve directed the boat up against the dock, the motor chubbing from the continued abuse of the night, and Aren began to gather his things. Once the Kid was out of his seat and the boat was shut off, The Mandalorian shoved his blaster carbine into his chest. “Go on, keep an eye out.”

Reeve stepped off of the boat, and then Aren followed, not bothering to tie off the vessel. Making sure he had everything that he needed, the Mandalorian drew a pistol, and fired several shots into the bottom of the hull of the boat. Water started to fill into the inside of the vehicle immediately, and Aren acted quickly. Holstering the gun, he gave the boat a might shove, and it started to float haphazardly out and into the canal. As it did so, the water filling the hull started to drag it down. When Aren last looked, the boat was just disappearing below the waves, just before halfway across the water.

“No need to give them any clues.” Aren explained almost matter-of-factly to Reeve as he caught up to the Kid. “Let’s get going. You first. Check around the corners before we move. Don’t need some poor security guy seeing me like this, huh?” Letting Reeve take off first, still with his blaster carbine, Aren followed slowly in the Kid’s wake. They had made it through the now-quiet city and almost half way to Rondo’s garage, though, before Aren became more relaxed. No trouble yet.

“So, Ad’ika… What the hell did you do back there? Have an ion cannon hidden on you that I didn’t know about?”

[tenkalus]

Soldier, had to be. Merc maybe, Reeve thought to himself as the carbine being shoved into his chest nearly took him off his feet. “Easy, lug nuts…” he protested. He wanted to protest further about not resting, but while he was injured Reeve wasn’t dumb enough to consider taking on the tank that had just torn down a wall and took on a third of the police force, shrugging off blaster shots to the chest and was still walking around like he wasn’t bruised under that armor.

But the instructions gave him a much clearer picture of the background of the man behind him. As if he needed more indication. Checking corners with a blaster sounded military, and the tone of the man’s voice was too confident and proud to be a deserter by Reeve’s estimation. Not that he’d ever spoken to a deserter before.

Still, he did as bidden and kept the lead with a decent pace even on his protesting ankle. Each time he put pressure on his left foot, it screamed back at him. But he bit his lip and pressed on, slowly but steadily adding more of a pronounced limp to his gait as the pain got worse.

Finally the massive man behind him started talking again.

Sweating now from his injury, Reeve checked his corner at the cross of an alley they were traversing and quickly tucked back in, leaning against the building closest to him and lifted his left leg slightly, grateful for the brief respite.

“Heh. No. I don’t have an ion cannon. I have a Ziggy.” He said, raising his left forearm to tap the wrist mounted mini computer there with the barrel of the carbine. “Ziggy is a virtual intelligence program I wrote. The flyer showed up and I had Ziggy crack the onboard security system by remote. When he was past the firewall, we did a quick slice and overwrote the master controls for the targeting, weapons and propulsion systems. Then I had Ziggy use those systems to take out the boats around us. After that? Well, I didn’t want it following us anymore and remembered that every air-faring vehicle has an emergency backup system that governs the suppression controls.” He explained casually as if addressing a scientist, gesturing with his hands and bobbing his head in remembrance as he spoke. “So you ask, ‘What’s the most dangerous element a self-contained airship could have?’ And the answer is easy.”

He looked up with an intelligent grin, “Fire. A pilot can’t fight fire and fly at the same time, right? Not to mention the danger of the fuel catching. It provides an explosive hazard. So the manufacturer builds in a safeguard to protect the pilots. I hijacked that and made the computer think there was a fire on board. Certain protocols can’t be overwritten though since they are hardwired into the system. For instance, you can’t shut the systems down when you’re at a certain altitude. It’s all built around safety. Safety for the pilot. Safety for civilians that might get hurt if the ship crashes or explodes. So I dropped it down below minimum altitude, triggered the fire suppression system, trapping the pilot in that sticky mess. But the system also automatically dumps fuel at that height, which forces a hard shut down and drops him safely onto the ground. In this case, the canal. Simple.”

Reeve smiled and shrugged, then glanced back up at the blank visor boring into his soul. No sound, no movement, no reaction.

He sighed and shook his head irritably. “Fine, I made the floaty guy target his buddies and then tricked it into being sick so it puked all its fuel and stopped chasing us. Better?”

With a grunt, the younger man pushed off the wall and started hobbling forward again, though he remembered to check his corner again before crossing the street, muttering about simpletons he went.

And what the hell was an Ad’ika anyway? Was the guy swearing at him or something? It wouldn’t be too far off his norm. Toddlun always swore at him and called him names whenever he was around. But that was after the beatings he’d been handed out years ago. When Reeve had started ring fighting on the streets, he’d really put on some muscle. It seemed like when he’d put on enough to hit back, Todd had suddenly stopped trying to knock him around.

But it never quieted the verbal abuse, and something in Reeve always broke when Todd would swear in his face and call him worthless when he was drunk. Reeve could be at his strongest, his angriest and most volatile with Todd. Ready to pound him into a fine paste with his bare hands, but as soon as the insults began, Reeve powered down and receded into his mind. He’d been conditioned early on to fear Toddlun. Even when he could defend himself, mentally, he couldn’t do it.

Not anymore.

Reeve was on his own now. Toddlun was soon to be long gone, and then Reeve would be free at last. He’d leave this god forsaken planet and never come back.

But first, they needed to get out.

“I assume you have a ship?” he called back over his shoulder, still a bit irritable as he limped on. “And what am I supposed to call you anyway? I don’t even know your name. And also, what is this going to cost me? Who hired you? Why are you here? In that order, if you please.”

[Ghostie]

Reeve stopped for a moment, panting and trying to catch his breath against the side of a dirty building made of old bricks. He lifted his leg, obviously in pain, trying to get some relief. Aren immediately felt a pain of guilt and regret, not catching the injury sooner. But by this point, the pair was nearly to Rondo’s Garage. Once they were there, Aren would have a look at his foot himself, which probably just required some ice, maybe some wrap to support it. Anyways, with Reeve still walking, it clearly wasn’t broken. In fact, the Kid was pushing through whatever pain he was feeling, and Aren felt a bit of pride mix with his pain at that. Perhaps after the time wasting in the cell, and whatever that was with the airspeeder, there was a bit of Aren in there after all.

Speaking of the airspeeder, Reeve was going on about what happened, clearly proud of himself as well. There was some sort of computer named Ziggy in his arm. He hacked the airspeeder to fire on the boats and then crash itself. Aren was able to catch the gist of it, but Reeve was explaining it all so matter-of-factly that the Mandalorian found it both impressive, and a bit boring all at once. Some junk about fuel systems and minimum altitudes. For his part, Aren knew his way around a computer as well as the next man. But Reeve was clearly two-steps above everyone else. The Mandalorian would never figure out all this ‘firewall’ and ‘hardwired systems’ business. Still, it sounded useful, and he started to wonder my more Mandalorians didn’t pursue the ideas that Reeve clearly had.

Then the Kid simplified the events that unfolded in the canal so clearly that a child could understand, and Aren simply snorted under his helmet.

“Yeah, I got that part…” He said with a tone of sarcasm in his voice. “... But y’lost me with the not being able to hack systems y’clearly just hacked.” Catching up to Reeve as he started off, Aren grabbed the blaster carbine back from him, and put an arm under the Kid’s shoulder, helping him hobble along down the rest of the block. They were so close enough to the Garage, and there were not sirens in the area, so Aren wasn’t feeling very concerned with the local security forces. “Still… Good work.”

Then Reeve started to rapid fire questions at the Mandalorian as they hobbled along, and Aren shook his head a little as they came one after another. Reeve asked about Aren’s ship, about his name, about what his rescue would cost, about who hired the Mandalorian, and why he was here. Aren didn’t answer for a moment as he pulled Reeve around the next street corner, and Rondo’s Garage came into sight.

“Blast, Ad’ika… Take a breath, huh?”

For all that had changed on Abregado-Rae in the past twenty years, Rondo’s Garage was a relief for Aren. It looked exactly how the Mandalorian had left it. It was a short building, wide, and made out of sheets of durasteel. It wasn’t shabby, but clearly an older establishment. The large lot in front had speeders of all different makes, models, and years, all in various states of disrepair. And there was a light on inside, as well as the glow of a viewscreen. That meant that the Rodian whom the Garage was named after was home. Perfect.

“I got a ship.” Aren confirmed, starting on Reeve’s questions as they hobbled carefully and slowly through the lot of speeders in front of Rondo’s. “You can have a ride, or go on your own, whatever.” Though, secretly, Aren wanted Reeve to come with him. With a little Mandalorian training, the Kid could probably hold his own fairly well. And with his smarts, he'd be a hell of a partner. As for what the Kid should call him, Aren didn’t know, exactly. So he stuck with the most basic. “M’name’s Aren, and you don’t owe me anything. Really. As for that last part…” At this point, they had reached the front door of the establishment. Giving the blaster carbine back to Reeve for the moment as he leaned the kid against the doorframe, Aren took his helmet off slowly, holding the crimson piece of armor under one arm. His head was happy to breathe once again, as sweat and light bruises were dished out in equal measure across his face, his hair plastered to his forehead. Running his free armored hand through his slick hair, which raised with his fingers slightly, Aren hesitated on knocking.

“... Your Mom sent me.” Eyeing Reeve for a reaction at the mention of Vanel, Aren waited a moment before explaining further. Once he was sure the Kid wasn’t going to blow his head off with his own blaster, the Mandalorian knocked. “She told Rondo to tell me if anything ever happened to you.” And with that, Aren tried to avoid Reeve’s eye, if the Kid was starting to put the pieces into the puzzle. Aren, who was clearly not as smart as him, knew where all the evidence led. But it wasn’t a conversation he was having out in the open, at the moment. Waiting another long moment, Aren rapped his guantleted knuckles against the door once again, and then he could finally hear the shuffling of feet on the other side as a voice called out.

“Blazes! I ain’t repairin’ no speeders at this hour! Y’better be gone by th’ time I get t’the door, or I swear with all that’s left in me, I’m gunna blast you to pieces!” On the last word, the door to the garage slid open, and there stood an elderly Rodian. He was a bit more round in the middle than Aren remembered, more wrinkled along the snout and eyes. His blue eyes had dulled, but only a bit, and his skin was a darker green in large places. Answering the door with a hold-out blaster in one hand, and leaning on a cane in the other, he didn’t pull the trigger quite yet. Instead, he squinted, studying Aren for a moment as the Mandalorian remained silent. Then the Rodian looked to Reeve, whom he recongized, and back to Aren quickly. “... Kiner? HEEEEELLL, you got old!”

“Thanks, Rondo. You’re looking like you were late to your own funeral, yourself.”

That actually got the grump of an old Rodian to chuckle, before he growled once again.

“You two are all ov’r th’news n’scanner. What th’hell you doin’ here?”

“We weren’t followed.” Aren confirmed, quickly shaking his head. “The Kid here came through on that one…”

“Saw that, too!”

“... I was just wondering if we could stay for a couple hours, and head for my ship at dawn.” Aren finished, a little frustrated with being cut off. “He thought it’d be fun to hurt his ankle.” The Mandalorian added, throwing a thumb in Reeve’s direction, whom he still hadn’t made eye contact with since mentioning Vanel. The Rodian, his blaster now at his side, was clearly hesitant. He never was one to stretch out his neck for people, even those he once cared about. Growling, he finally tossed the blaster aside, on a small table by the door.

“Just until dawn!” He growled at the pair. Aren gestured for Reeve to go first, before turning to make sure no one was watching, and locking the door behind them. The inside of Rondo’s Garage had changed as little as the outside. The same little office in the front corner. The same waiting area with a little lounge and table. Off to the side, a few speeder up on lifts, or on the floor. The back was walled off as Rondo’s private living space. “There’s some food in th’fridge. Just don’t drink all my damn booze like y’used too!” And with that, Rondo went back to his office, where he was monitoring his holofeed and his police scanner, both of which were breaking with the news of Aren and Reeve’s daring escape. The Old Rodian left the door open, and a marinade of voices, all talking over each other and indiscernible from one another because of it, poured out.

Leading Reeve to the small round table that was older than Aren was, the Mandalorian pulled out a chair for the kid, and put his helmet down. Wandering off to the kitchen, he soon came back with three chilled bottles of a local beer, and half of a Corellian Air Cake. Setting it all down next to his helmet, Aren pulled Reeve’s hurt ankle up and onto the table, pulling up his pant leg a bit for a quick inspection. As he thought, just sprained.

“Here…” He handed Reeve one of the bottles, still quite cold. “... Hold it on there. Rondo didn’t have any ice.” Sitting opposite of Reeve at the small table, Aren popped the cap off of one of the other bottles, and raised it in a small toast to Reeve. “Happy Birthday, Ad’ika.” Taking a swing, he explained. “News had that listed this morning, too, along with everything else. Sorry I didn't get you anything.” the Mandalorian offered a small grin.

[tenkalus]

Reeve was surprised when the carbine that had been shoved into his hands was just as readily ripped from them. Then his arm was wrapped around the tank-man’s neck to take weight off his bad ankle.

Now he was showing compassion? What a strange man. It was odd to see such a stoic soldier take blaster shots to the chest, shrug them off without a complaint and then care for an injured companion. A person he knew nothing about. Why did this man care so much? And on the note he wasn’t owed anything?

No one worked for free. Hell, no one picked a fight with the police because a favor was owed. And that seemed like that was what this was. Some long term favor being held off in the wings of time until just the right moment. How bad could the guy be in debt to whoever had put him up to busting Reeve out of jail? And what kind of debt shrugged off just shy of a quarter million credits like it was nothing?

Well, the man confirmed he had a ride, so that was something. A blessing in itself because both of them were going to be wanted fugitives after this. If they did get off planet, it would be a wonder if they didn’t have a bounty posted on their heads. Course, with a little work and the right terminal, Reeve could erase said bounty if he really wanted or needed to. And he’d been offered a ride off planet by a man who had busted him out of jail for apparently nothing.

Why couldn’t Reeve figure this guy out? He could break apart a supercomputer and reassemble it in his sleep with one arm tied behind his back, but for some reason the armored man lugging him along was a total conundrum to him. It was a matter of motivation. Growing up on the streets of Abregado-Rae, Reeve had never yet met someone in 18 years of life who wasn’t motivated by self interest.

Ring fighters? Credits, fame, attention. Slicers? Recognition, self worth, political or anti-political stances. Thieves, hookers, factory workers, cops… they all had some kind of survival mechanism in place to motivate them to whatever course of action they found themselves on.

And this guy, had none of it. This didn’t seem to be for him at all. And Reeve Dyson was having a hard time wrapping his head around that.

Aren. He said his name was Aren. And somewhere in the back of his mind, something began to shift. He didn’t know any Aren’s. Never even heard the name in passing before.

Only. No. He had. But where? And when was it?

“My mom sent you?” More confusion crested his features as Aren knocked again on Rondo’s door. Reeve looked up at the foreign man’s face and tried to recall ever seeing him before. And there was a vague familiarity about him but it was driving Reeve mad inside trying to figure out why. He knew for a fact this was their first meeting.

There was something about the eyes that just struck him as so damn familiar.

Mom knew Rondo? How? When? She’d been too busy working to provide for Reeve to go out and meet some of the local criminals.

It was only when Rondo showed up, opened the door and paused, that things finally snapped into place.

“... Kiner? HEEEEELLL, you got old!”

Kiner. Aren Kiner.

Memory flooded to Reeve in a rush. Six years ago, he’d walked in on one of the nastier fights between Toddlun and his mother. Todd was drunk as usual, and had taken to throwing things around to smash them. Vanel had been crying, a fresh bruise on her eye, but still blazing that determined and stoic gaze at Todd, daring him to try again. If there was something to be said about Vanel Dyson, it was that even when she was using drugs, she was still a fighter. She would have been a badass once upon a time, Reeve always knew. That stare of hers defied the laws of men, and dared them to cross her.

It had been the night Reeve had made a significant discovery. He’d been ring fighting for extra credits to help his mother. She’d always provided for him, he just wanted to have her around more. The more he brought in, the less she had to work at the electrum processing factory. It was that night, that Reeve found out that he could fight for something other than himself.

“You’re not half the man Aren was.” She’d said to Todd that night.

Todd had sneered and laughed at her. “Kiner?!” he’d said. “Yeah I looked into your old flame, Vanny. He was a screwup punk as a kid and was a piss poor soldier when he left you. Your boy is as much of a loser as his old man! Don’t make me laugh.”

Reeve’s mother had smiled then. An odd expression on a body that was wasting away from continued narcotic use. “On his worst day, he was leagues better than you.”

Todd had gotten angry again at that and made to punch her in the face. Only he found his arm struggling against a solid wall of rock, locked in its cocked back position, and he had to look behind him to find his elbow held nestled into the crook of Reeve’s. Muscle had struggled against muscle that day. But for the first time. Reeve won. He hauled back on his step-father’s arm and slammed him into the wall. The surprised and rage on Todd’s face had been the sweetest thing young Dyson had ever seen, and they stood there like that, eyes locked in a contest of will on who would blink first. The contest had ended only when Vanel had stepped between them and put gentle hands on her son’s arms. “No baby… we need him.” was all she’d said.

It had been the first day that Todd had seen the defiance in Reeve’s eyes. The first time his own gaze had mirrored his mothers, and had said silently to their joint tormentor, ‘No more’.

Aren Kiner was the name of Reeve Dyson’s father. His real father.

The world disappeared around him and he became numb with the realization. He was a fast thinker, no one could ever say otherwise, but between Rondo’s door and the chair he’d been set to. Reeve could think of nothing. He didn’t even feel it when Aren put his leg up on the table to examine his ankle. He just sat there with a stunned expression, mouth slightly agape in disbelief.

No, there was a logical explanation for it all.

A cousin perhaps, no. No it was probably someone using Aren’s name to get him to lower his guard. When Reeve had retrieved his inheritance money, this imposter would would run to Toddlun and they’d murder Reeve for the credits. It was all just a trick. Todd knew about Rondo, but not that Reeve had ever done work for him. Now he’d come crashing through the door as soon as Reeve gave up the information on how to retrieve the money.

But Aren hadn’t asked about money. And Rondo knew this man.

Rondo knew him.

Every avenue of thought that he tried to push logic down, turned to a dead end in his mind. All roads lead back to the truth that Reeve was struggling to swallow.

Reeve thought Aren’s eyes looked familiar because he saw them everyday when he looked in the mirror. He had the same kind of facial structure. The same color hair.

Aren Kiner wasn’t here for a favor. He wasn’t here for money. He didn’t take on the police to settle a debt.

He was here for his son.

A range of emotions passed over Reeve’s features at lightspeed. First awe, then disbelief, then anger and rage, then pain, and finally… cautious hope.

Aren wished him a happy birthday, drawing Reeve’s his gaze back up from the floor he’d been studying for answers.

All of a sudden, Aren’s eyes seemed to be opposing magnets to his own. He couldn’t look at the man. Every time he tried to catch the man’s eye, his own seemed to deflect to a random piece of furniture in the room or the ale on the table or the cake next to it.

Finally, he found his tongue again. Stiffly, he reached to the cold bottle and carefully slid it against his exposed ankled on the table, closing his eyes firmly as the ice cold glass touched flesh and started to ease the inflamed throbbing there.

Confidence was gone from his voice, now replaced by a frail and detached imposter. “...Where,” was all he managed to start with. But he chewed on his cheek for a moment before continuing, studying the bottle on his foot for imperfections, “...Where were you?” he asked quietly.

He didn’t ask the standard ‘why now?’ or ‘why me?’ or any of the sappy shit you saw in the holovids. The question of where his father had been for 18 years of his life simply seemed the most pertinent right now. The where would answer the why and how. Like how he’d allowed a piece of scum like Todd to marry Vanel, and abuse his own son for more than a decade.

The realization that he was sitting across from his dad had nearly thrown him from his chair. In the course of 90 seconds, his entire world had been flipped upside down.

[Ghostie]

Reeve had figured it out. Before the Kid had even said anything, Aren knew. It was clear he was damned smart, and a few pieces into the puzzle that he already had, and Reeve would have a full picture. When the few words escaped from the young man’s lips, the ball of durasteel that had welled up in Aren’s gut on this particular topic, which had been compressed with anxiety over this very conversation and guilt over the fact that he hadn’t know Reeve existed until this morning, finally burst. Their eyes steered clear of one another, And Aren took a sip from his own bottle, before finally starting in on the topic of where he had been for all of Reeve Dyson’s life.

There would be, he decided, no beating around the proverbial bush. The Kid deserved far more than that.

“When I was about your age, I got pinched for stealing a speeder for good ol’ Rondo, here…” Aren hunched over in his seat with his forearms on his elbows, his eyes finding a spot on the table with a little flaw in it. His eyes bored into the divet, examining every detail and studying it thoroughly as he recounted the highlights of his story. “... The judge gave me a choice; I could either go to prison, or the military. So I chose the military.” Glancing back up at Reeve for a moment and expecting the Kid to have some sort of backlash ready, Aren’s eyes quickly went back to the table. “Not long after I left, your mom and I stopped talking. I figured that was just the way of things, seeing as how I was going to be gone for at least a little while.”

There really hadn’t been any cause for the distance between Aren and Vanel, aside from, well, the distance. They were little more than kids themselves, when Aren was arrested, and didn’t have a relationship that could exactly withstand the test of time and travel. The Mandalorian suspected that he would never know why the woman had never told him about Reeve, but he wished he could ask her. Undoubtedly, she had her reasons. Reasons, though, Aren would strike down again and again as not good enough to keep his son from him. Not good enough to saddle him with eighteen years of guilt. Not good enough for Reeve to grow up without a father, on the mean streets of Abregado-Rae.

Just like Aren had. The similarities were haunting.

“I don’t know why your Mom never told me that she had you. I wish she had…” Aren continued, his bottle of ale spinning at a moderate pace as his fingers turned it over and over again in his armored hands. His life, he decided, would have been very different if Vanel had told him about Reeve. That much Aren knew. Reeve would have had his father, and Aren his son.

“... Anyways… Spent some time longer than I needed too in the army. I liked it there, until the War started. This Jedi on Yaga Minor…” Aren let that part trail off, as it wasn’t necessary to Reeve’s question, and the Mandalorian didn’t want to quite get into it at the moment. But he would never forget that Barabel bastard. Perhaps someday he’d tell Reeve about that. But not now. “... Ran around in Hutt Space for a bit, picking up bounties and merc work, until I got into a bit of trouble, and some Mandalorians found me.” Meeting Reeve’s eye for the first time since his story started, Aren’s face only had a frown to give the boy.

“Ran with them for a bit…” Far more than a bit, honestly. After all, he was Leader of Clan Fett, now. “... And then Rondo commed me, telling me you got pinched, and your Mom gave him instructions to tell me if anything ever happened to you. Rondo… Sort of hinted at me being your dad, but, well…” Aren finished off the beer left in his bottle, and put it on the table. “... I’m putting the pieces together just like you.”

Aren let his story end there, for the moment, so Reeve could process everything. In a way, speaking what had happened had made it real for the Mandalorian, as well. He had a son. The anxiety over Reeve’s next few crucial decisions and the guilt of being absent for the young man’s life was still welled up inside of Aren, but next to them was born a small, glimmering seed of joy and hope. He had a son. That was something the Mandalorian had never expected. In his entire life of fighting and running and crusading, there was finally a bring spot in the midst of everything. A spot that Aren felt instantly connected to, that he would do anything for. A spot in the middle of all the junk that meant everything.

“Reeve…” Aren used the young man’s real name for this. He wasn’t really sure what he was going to say, and was sort of just going for it at this point. His words caught in his mind for a moment, and then he said the only thing he could honestly think of. “... I’m sorry.” The Mandalorian folded his hands on the table, and hung his head. “I wish Vanel had told me about you. I really do. I suppose I could have come back at some point, and looked in on things myself, but… But well I figured she’d be better off without some guy like me. I guess I thought that the more I stayed away, the better she’d do for herself. Either way… I swear I didn’t even know you existed until this morning.” Wringing his hands together, Aren paused, and then continued onto what the future might hold.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I can get you off world, and then we can part ways, if you want. You can stay with me, I can help get you on your feet… Whatever you want to do, Ad’ika. I’ll help you however you want me too, alright?”

And try to make up the past eighteen years, if you let me.

[tenkalus]

Emotions washed over and through Reeve as he listened to Aren’s story. It conflicted with everything he’d thought he knew about his biological father. The way that his mother had described it, she was always waiting for him to come back, but by Aren’s story, they had parted amicably and without the commitment of staying in touch. He’d never pegged his mother as wishy-washy when it came to people, but maybe it was different with Aren Kiner. Maybe she’d just wanted to think he thought she was worth coming back to, without ever actually stating it. Maybe she’d never reached out because she thought he’d died in the army.

Maybe, it was the drugs that destroyed her mind and made her forget she hadn’t reached out at all. It wouldn’t be a far stretch to believe that. It was a hard truth to accept, but Reeve no longer had the luxury of living in a fantasy world. He loved his mother very much, but she had been far from perfect.

Reeve’s eyes snapped up when Aren Kiner apologized to him. In that moment, he was able to stare the older man dead in the eye, and saw as well as heard the sincerity there.

He wanted to reach across the table and choke the man, and when he was done, he’d go throttle Rondo for never telling him that his father was still out there while Reeve had gotten his ass kicked by Toddlun, because sure as shit, Rondo had known. He’d rage and thrash and break things and kick over the furniture.

Only, he wouldn’t. Because it was all hollow. The emotional part of Reeve wanted to act out. But the intellectual side held him in place, staring hard at the man that was his father. He wanted to hate Aren Kiner for not being there. But how could he hate someone for ignorance? How could he hate someone who hadn’t even know he existed? It wasn’t logical. And Rondo? Why would he have said anything? He didn’t owe Reeve a damn thing. Fact of the matter was, Rondo was a hardass to everyone, and Reeve had never been as close to the old rodian as Aren had, obviously. There was only a business relationship there for him. A meal card.

He’d gone to the fighting rings when he had these kind of emotions before. Reeve had vented his frustrations on other fighters. But it was all senseless beatings. Most of the time he’d won, and those victories had still felt hollow. It had never allowed him to actually deal with his problems. Beating the brakes off of another fighter felt good in the moment, but he’d always return to the hole in his chest when he realized his issues were still waiting for him.

Still. This didn’t feel right to him. He needed to do something, anything.

“I don’t know what you want from me. I can get you off world, and then we can part ways, if you want. You can stay with me, I can help get you on your feet… Whatever you want to do, Ad’ika. I’ll help you however you want me too, alright?”

Reeve scoffed and looked away. “Want from you? What I, want from-…?! Asshole, I was doing just fine on my own before you showed up! I had a way out of that cell and to the spaceport all on my own! I’ve got credits now! And…. I have…” he looked around frantically, pain in his mind causing a vein to bulge in his forehead. “I have Ziggy! I don’t need anyone else! I don't need your guilty conscience weighing me down!”

“Hey! Keep it down in there, I’m trying to watch my program!” Rondo bellowed from the other room.

Reeve's eyes bulged dangerously and yelled back through the open door. “Shut your hole, Rondo, before I put you in one!”

Rondo could be heard muttering indignantly to himself about the lack of graciousness for his hospitality. Then the volume on his set turned up to drown out Reeve’s anger.

Anger and fear welled up inside of Reeve and he just kicked his leg off the table, grabbed the cold bottle and hobbled over to a corner to sit down alone. “You know what? Just forget it. Get me off this rock later and I’ll call it even. We can go our separate ways, and you can rejoin whatever life you had guilt free. I can make my own way.”

He reached over and grabbed a holed up and worn out shop blanket from a busted down speeder bike and tossed it over himself and set the bottle back to his swollen ankle. He’d be good to travel in a few hours. Then fate would dictate how the rest of the story went.

[Ghostie]

There was not a moment’s hesitation in between the last words leaving the Mandalorian’s mouth, and the young man across from him raising his own voice to meet them. Truth be told, Aren didn’t know what to expect from this conversation. Perhaps it was too much to expect Reeve to be completely accepting of him. That was understandable, after all, Aren decided. The Mandalorian hadn’t been around for any of the young man’s life, and he felt as guilty about that as he possibly could. Perhaps Aren should have expected Reeve to be disbelieving, even a little hostile. Reeve had every right to be angry over an absentee father. Aren had felt that exact same rage himself, at one point in his life, and he understood it all too well.

But that didn’t make the Mandalorian feel any better as the ball of durasteel swelled in his stomach once again, and pulled itself to the floor. Aren would be lying if he said that Reeve’s outburst didn’t hurt him. Nonetheless, he kept his mouth pursed, and simply watched with a neutral expression as Reeve lashed out, letting the young man get it all out of his system. The only time Aren thought about saying something was when Reeve snapped at Rondo, but even then he bit his tongue in the Old Rodian’s defense. Instead, the Mandalorian simply sat a bit hunched over, his hands folded in his lap, as he watched the small display.

And for the first time in a long time, Aren felt utterly defeated and crushed. After just a moment, Reeve retreated to the old couch, taking a old blanket with him, and his still cold bottle of brew. Aren, for his part, simply sat where he was, and hung his head for a moment. His eyes bored into the floor at his armored greaves as his mind raced, losing track of time.

Reeve had every right to act the way that he did. Aren knew that. He understood that. But what Reeve had that he didn’t was a father that actually cared, even if he was eighteen years too late. But that wasn’t Aren’s fault, couldn’t he see that? If the Mandalorian had the choice, Reeve wouldn’t have grown up without him. Aren had never known his own father, past a corpse and an impromptu grave that he had ripped his family’s armor from. And yet according to the young man, he had everything figured out on his own; getting out of jail, getting off planet, having his own money, and everything else he needed to survive. But someone, somewhere, always knew. They were always looking for you, even if you got away scotch-free.

Reeve was acting like an ungrateful little punk, half of the Mandalorian’s mind said. The other half reasoned that perhaps Reeve knew what he was doing. But all of Aren hurt at the outlash.

Aren finished his own bottle of ale, soon enough, choking down the now luke-warm brew. After that, he paced the garage, glancing out of a window every now and then. Every now and then Aren would glance over to where Reeve was resting, not sure if the young man was asleep or not. But every time he stirred, Aren would look away quickly, not wishing to meet Reeve’s eyes at the moment. Rondo, for his part, had long retired to his attached apartment. And between the bruising of the firefight last night that Aren was feeling across his body, the lack of sleep from keeping watch, and the general rejection of his son, the Mandalorian was starting to feel all sorts of miserable. Leaning against a window frame with his arms crossed, Aren found himself nodding off every now and then.

But soon enough, the first beams of morning sunlight started to pour into Aren’s window. That kept him awake for the rest of the morning. He patiently waited until the first purple and orange beams turned yellow, and the sun started to show itself fully. The city started to wake up outside of the sleep garage, and Aren decided that now was the time to move, as the masses were starting their daily routine. Sighing a bit as he left his window, the Mandalorian dropped a few credits chips on Rondo’s old, worn table, and then picked up his helmet. Putting on the heavy piece of armor with it’s classic t-shaped visor, Aren found his blaster carbine. Holding the weapon in both hands, Aren called out to Reeve.

“Ad’ika.” He said a bit sharply, loudly, but not yelling. “Time to move. Spaceport isn’t far.”

Leading the way out of the garage and slowly through the small junkyard in front of the building, Aren’s visor automatically adjusted for the sunlight that started to filter through. The pair soon found themselves on the street, the conspicuous Mandalorian in his crimson armor keeping his pace slow so the scrawny young man next to him could keep up as he favored his one ankle.

“Decide where you want dropped off, yet?” Aren asked as they walked, his head forward and tone neutral.

[tenkalus]

After his little outburst, exhaustion had set in. Reeve had tented himself under the blanket and wedged the cold bottle between the couch and his ankle, making sure it wouldn’t fall over before he did. He was tired. Mentally and physically drained and just raw inside.

He knew Aren had meant well, but there was a part of his mind that had refused to let go of his independent streak. He had to fight something. If there wasn’t a fight, what would he do? Almost all of his life, Reeve had been alone. He’d been beaten, abused, and left on the street with no one to care for him. It had nurtured a fire in him, a combative nature that seemed to make the emptiness go away for a while. And he’d taken that out on anyone in his path with his fists.

Intellectually he knew that it wasn’t Aren’s fault for not being around. Hell it was probably more awkward for the old man than it was for Reeve. How was he supposed to feel? He was out in the galaxy living his life and then bang, he finds out he has an 18 year old son back home and a dead ex-girlfriend. Talk about a shot to the kidney. And yet, he’d still shown up. He’d still made an immediate effort to take care of things, and it wasn’t the way Reeve might have expected from a male figure like Toddlun. Aren wasn’t trying to buy him off, wasn’t try to purchase his affection or trade for his future.

He’d just shown up and offered a hand, saying ‘I’m here tell, me what you need’.

But Reeve wasn’t a person who could understand that yet. He was searching for the catch, the hidden clause, the fine print. Yet so far, he wasn’t able to find anything.

Before he passed out, Reeve brought up his datapad and pulled up Aren Kiner’s records. There were mentions of him joining the military as a plea bargain out of jail but not much after that. Reeve could have sliced into Republic records as well but he didn’t have the processing power on his wrist, nor the mental juice to attempt it at that moment. So he just closed his eyes under the blanket and conked out, letting go of his anger and angst long enough to let the soothing cold on his ankle send him into darkness.

He dreamt of his mother, when she was healthy and whole. He felt her phantom embrace as she wrapped her arms around his younger shoulders and planted a kiss on his forehead. He remembered her laugh, when she’d been happy. Before Toddlun.

It seemed like he’d just gotten to sleep when Aren was waking him again. But even with that, he checked his chrono and found he’d been out for a few hours at least. He groaned and pulled the blanket off of his head, and checked his ankle. The swelling had gone way down since he’d pretty well iced it with the bottle and kept weight off of it, but it was still a little tender when he stood. Not something that wouldn’t slow him down terribly from a normal walking pace at this point, but he wouldn’t be running any marathons any time soon.

He wanted to apologize for the prior night. About his outburst. He wanted to explain to his newly found father that he just wasn’t used to having someone to depend on but himself. He wanted to to tell Aren that he didn’t have anyone else in the galaxy, no friends, no other family. Only the emotionless computer he’d built.

But his pride kept the words locked up tight. Instead, Reeve silently put his boots back on and kept his left laced loose so as not to put undue pressure on his wounded appendage.

They walked for a while through the slums toward the starport. At least Aren still knew the direction of that at least. This particular route hadn’t been changed for years. And on they trudged in silence. Long, awkward silence. Until finally Aren broke it casually with a nonchalant tone.

“Decide where you want dropped off, yet?”

With you. I want to go with you. His mind said quietly in a dark corner. But instead of that, his lips said, “Anywhere but here sounds fine. Out of the system so they can’t extradite me if I get pinched somewhere.”

He took a few more steps and sighed, holding a palm up to Aren’s chest armor, “Take 5, tin-can. I gotta jack the network for a minute and we are leaving my mobile access breaker behind so I gotta use my wits and charm now.”

Reeve walked irritably over to a public access terminal normally reserved for general HoloNet access and city directories. The terminal was one of four in the kiosk, all back to back in their own private little bubbles with the main network antenna connecting them all at the center. He glanced left and right quickly before cracking his knuckles before him and putting his fingers to the keyboard.

It took a moment for him to subvert public commands and access the administration menu. And a moment more after that to get from the admin menu to the city wide root directory that connected all things to the digital net on the planet. It wasn’t hard to find the police mainframe, as he’d broken in a dozen times in the past few months and had never been caught. He’d all but memorized the IP address for what he needed to access so it was child’s play to find out where he wanted to go.

With a glance over his shoulder, he noticed Aren staring. Reeve pulled his eyes back to the screen and began describing to the man what he was doing. “Cops put a BOLO on us last night and have the starport locked down. I’m pulling an active list of all their RFID numbers active in the city right now. It basically lets me know where every cop in the city is by pinging the transponder they wear as part of their uniform. That rings back to the satellite floating around up top and uses GPS in real time to mark on my digital map.”

Reeve didn’t have the luxury of holo-equipment, so the red dots showed up in a 2D format on his gauntlet’s little screen.

“Now I’m going to send them away from the starport with a phoney report, let’s go withhhh... code 126, that’s a call to intercept suspect by the way, saying we were spotted stealing a speeder and heading north across the bridge and out of the city. They’ll think we are running to another port to get away from them and do an all call in pursuit…” he finished with an emphasized keystroke. “Now wait forrrr ittttt…” he said with a little grin as he held up his wrist screen so Aren could see.

The red dots on the map began to rapidly shift north and away from the starport. There were only a token guard left at the entrance, but that didn’t matter to Reeve. They wouldn’t be using the front door. The pair didn’t exactly have time to take their boots off and walk through customs.

“For my next trick, I’ll lift the lockdown on the starport… place is already crowded as hell since everyone is grounded anyway. Transport security will be eager to get lines moving again. Still gotta be careful when we move though because, while I can remove our BOLO posters from the net, all of this at once would tip someone off.”

His fingers flew across the keyboard in masterful fashion. It was as if his hands were trying desperately to keep up with the codes and numbers in his mind as they trickled down his arms.

“And for my final act,” he said wistfully. “I’ll need a hand from our lovely audience.” He stood straighter, and looked around sardonically, pretending not to notice Aren for a moment then pointed at him directly as if just discovering him. “Oh, yes! You sir. Step right up, step right up, boy do we have a treat for you today.”

Reeve turned back to the console, smashed in a few dozen commands in record time and then turned back to his father. “I just neeeeeed one of theeeese,” he called back and snagged Aren’s left index finger. “And just press this…” He said, guiding the finger to the execute command and pushed it down.

The terminal screen went fuzzy for a moment, streaking lines as it fought itself to a standstill, but Reeve’s code won in the end and it inevitably shifted back to the normal public access screen. His self-made code backtraced all digital transactions for the last ten minutes and reset the console. It was an ugly hack for him, as normally he would replace the missing transactions in the system history with a series of common searches and refill said history with garbage. But they didn’t have time.

“And now, we were never here. Congratulations metal-man.” He said stoically with a regal looking expression, chopping a knife hand down on either of Aren’s shoulders first one, then the other. “I dub thee, Net Slicer. Your certificate will come in the mail. Now let's get the fuck out of here.” He ended dryly. “Get me to the side entrance to your hangar and I can open the door. Then we can leave this shitty rock behind us...”