Operation Ghost Part 1 (Squee, Silas)

[Deleted]

Krae leaned back in his chair, booted feet propped up on a table. His eyes flicked back and forth across the data pad for the dozenth time. It was no more helpful then any other intel he'd received in his lifetime. but every detail he could glean from it would no doubt be important later when he had left this data pad far behind. He had received his orders along with the intel.
without a thought to what he was doing he tapped the data pad and brought them up to read through them again. "Discover the whereabouts of Project Ghost and capture it if possible. Destroy it if not"

It went on to say that another Mandalorian was assigned to the mission and that they had been given the same orders as himself. Krae had shaken his head at that. Not because he was foolish enough to believe he didn't need help, but because he was sure they would need more help. He had taken it upon himself to hire a mercenary for assistance. two full years of pay it'd cost him but he had faith this Ronan would be worth it. There was little to be found on his past exploits. Far from put off Krae had grinned at that. No doubt the man knew his work and did it well if there was no record of it.

The Nagai pushed his chair back on two legs and resumed reading through the mission Intel. He no longer felt pre-mission jitters, no excitement for what was to come but couldn't help feeling uneasy about how long it was taking for them to get underway. None of the blame was laid on his soon to be teammate or the mercenary. It was brass that had taken it's damn sweet time in finding a place for them to meet and he still had no word on a ship to transport them. It wasn't the first time he'd been left with nothing but orders and he was confident they would manage. but it was another delay to cap off two solid weeks of delays.

Silently he flexed his shoulders and let any tension fade. The others would be here soon and perhaps his concerns would come to nothing. If he were lucky one of them would have a ship. Silently reading though intel again Krae Svar waited.


(ooc: -cough- I'm a bit rusty but there it is)

[Silas]

Concord dawn, it felt like the steel hinges of entrapment came down to clasp around his chest as he landed in the space port. Illuminated by the light of the view port he could see the faint reflection of his pale blue skin in the shine. Slowly the slow thrum of the engines began to dissipate as he got from the chair he had sat in for the last few hours to head towards the exit. There would be none of the light he wished for, no calm gentle breeze to brush through his hair, and once again no familiarity. Strange, alien things had became normal to him now; they were more familiar than things he’d once called home. Now only the sounds of a dying engine, and the gun in his holster were things of any regularity. This along with other missions would bring him closer to that familiarity, though, and soon perhaps he could feel the soft embrace of a woman he’d long ago lost to the cruelties of the Sith Empire. Now he was on his own, though. Alone in a sea of people.

Cold blue fingers tightened into a few around thin air as he walked down into the stale air of the space dock that was attached to the Mandalorian base. The number of times he’d acquainted himself with these particular people were few and far between so he didn’t know what to expect on this mission. There were stories of cold monsters amongst these people, but those were told by drunkards and old women to scare small children. Perhaps they were a warrior society but somewhere beneath all that beskar there had to be some sort of heart and if not they were no darker than the Sith or the Republic.

The man who had greeted him on his descent into the large facility had seemed calm enough with little more than the weariness of routine to mark his tone. None of the hostility he had silently played through his mind, nor had any sort of malicious intent travelled through those words. Just simple routine and now the man walked amongst these myths told by dim light to scare young children with little concern. They weren’t his enemy here anymore than the children of Taris. Some might even classify them as his friends.

Cold machinery hung all around him; massive machines made for travel mostly, but amongst them were repair droids, the cold eyes of mechanics, and large drums of oil for refuelling. Amongst this raucous one could disappear deftly into the darkness and that brought a certain solace to him. No one could disappear from the world entirely, but when you were surrounded by people its much easier to think you’ll be forgotten somewhere down the line.

While he’d gotten a rough estimate of where to go he didn’t quite know his way around this duracrete labyrinth. Instead, near the first door he saw a man exited in one of the traditional Mando armour which made the Ferroan feel rather naked in his simple street clothes. Where the man wore a beskar breastplate Ronan instead wore a simply black coat that clung tightly to him, and in place of the armoured legs he wore simple tan jerkins. There was nothing off about him in the real world, but here he looked the stranger.

The man did not expect the voice to be directed at him when Ronan asked, “Can you help me find something?”

Startled the man looked at the blue man twice as if he’d not understood that he was being talked to before he answered in a gruff voice through the visor, “Ummm… I suppose, where you headin’?”

There was an obvious awkward moment when the mando looked over his shoulder as if he wanted to be anywhere but that spot. However, in regards to his feelings the Ferroan didn’t give a damn, “To level four, room 321.”

For a second the man’s face lit up as he quickly blurted out, “You’re heading in the right direction, just follow this hall down a couple doors. Should be along that hall, not sure which door though. Have to pay attention.”

Obviously the man was glad to be done with the whole business for he hadn’t even finished before he started walking again. The transaction perhaps not forgotten, but quite done with if his response was any sort of indicator. None of it bothered the mercenary as he stepped through the door as the swish of hydraulics closed the two heavy blast doors on his way out. The shadow of a smile stretched thinly across his lips as he walked down the hallway. This seemed as if it would be a simple enough mission, and he needed the extra money. While the Hutts kept most of his transactions paid for it was nice to have somewhere to fall back on in the instance that they ever fell out of their agreement. However that was all forgotten as he saw the door that had been indicated by the man he’d spoken two several days ago. Was it Krav or Krai… no it was Krae… that‘s it. He’d seemed rather pleased with the Ferroan’s repertoire; hopefully that would hold up for this entire trip.

Inside sat a man as he looked down upon a data pad Ronan intoned, “Krae, I assume? Nice to meet you, name’s Ronan.” One blue hand extended in welcome to the other.

[Squee]

It’s just another job. And the words had stuck. No retelling herself. No caves echoing the word back at her with doubt interlaced with each syllable. She was sure. When she’d committed her allegiance to the task before it was told to her, she’d already convinced herself of it. She’d been to Shogun and back. That had been a job. She hadn’t returned with loss. She had returned with her brother. And her goal on each job was to return with the exact amount she’d taken with her, the exception being bullets.

However, jobs around here were more often referred to as missions. Missions were things people set out to accomplish. Missions were things people failed at as often as they succeeded. They kept failure in mind, though they prayed their mightiest that they would be successful. Valry didn’t set out on missions. The consequences of failure were too steep. The consequences of harboring failure in thoughts beckoned and taunted the evil spirit. The simplest form of success was warmly welcome, always. Because that meant home.

Home where small fingers wrapped around the first three fingers of her left hand. The child’s footsteps weren’t terribly loud but they were obviously clumsy by the clattering rhythm. The rough, sporadic noise outlined the more controlled thuds of its mother’s boots. However random, those feet kept up well – about three for every one of the mother’.

Valry tapped her breast to a passing man out of respect and continued down the hallway, hearing the chuckle after a couple of steps. He’d been wearing armor, as most of the Mandalorians would be in this building. However, she was not. Nowhere stated that she was required to and this was only to be an intel sharing meeting anyway. Why should she dress up and be super heated to simply express just how Mandalorian she was? Orak had complained about it little (he liked it when she wore her armor) but he’d long since fell silent about the subject.

She passed a man, who was obviously doing what pleased him, in a desk and continued down a different hall. Orak’s fingers slipped from around hers and Valry felt her heart flutter. Her feet halted and she glanced down to see her son’s fingers grasped back at hers. Whatever had happened didn’t matter. One foot fell in front of the other.

As she passed through the door, Valry was sure she was a ridiculous sight: what with the extremely loose ponytail and frame-hugged long sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed into the crook of her elbows matched with a airy trousers tucked into worker’s boots. Aka, farmer’s footwear. A belt swayed on her hips, holding in sight one blaster pistol. Toting beside her was her plainly dressed son who stared at the world with a pair of the darkest eyes in the universe. Clutched in the hand not holding onto Valry was a small brown bag. Its larger twin was slung over Valry’s opposite shoulder.

“So, there’s a job,” she stated matter-of-factly. “And I need to hear about it.” The bag slid off her shoulder with a fabric zip! and touched the floor without so much a sound. “New, not new, whichever and whatever.” Her left hand pulled up, guiding Orak to the chair where he understood immediately and sat.

“He’s blue, Buir.” The boy was whispering. He only meant for the words for his mother, but unfortunately there wasn’t noise enough to blot out the boy’s awed words.

“Hush,” she said only in reply. To the others she said, “Pay my son no mind. I plan on taking him to his uncle’s after this.”

Orak blinked and glanced across the table to where another man was. A curious furrow entered the young boy’s brow as he decided to watch the man. And should the man glance over for more than a second, he might earn a small wave from the serious faced boy.

In the mean time, Valry glanced over at the blue man, who was significantly taller than her (though it wasn’t a difficult thing to be taller than Valry). The corner of her mouth tugged upward a little, now amused by Orak’s comment. Indeed… the man was blue. “Valry. Is the name if you didn’t know before.”

[Deleted]

Krae's chair dropped back unto all four legs as someone entered the room and he stood. Not a quick movement but smooth. His body would tell his life story in a few movements and a glance if anyone knew how to read it. Small scars littered his skin although the only ones visible were on his face and hands as his customary black clothing hid most everything else. Those small scars would tell a person that his mistakes in combat were few and small. The Liquid grace of his muscles would say he was more comfortable with a sword then a blaster. Perhaps too quick and slightly over reaching movements would say that he was more accustomed to the weight of armor then not. The calluses between thumb and index finger would tell an experienced eye that he was a dangerous man, but for all the truths his body told his face told a lie.

The small slightly cocky grin that jumped into place as he stood to meet the arrival was a lie, he felt no happiness, he saw no reason to smile... almost. There was one reason. A friend had emerged from the gloom of Nar Shadda. A great spirit and a like mind. Kvothe Algaterra. The thought of him warmed Krae slightly but he cooled just as fast when he considered just how far away his one friend was and the dangers he was in. A flick of will power sent all thoughts of Kvothe out of his head. It was distracting and he had a guest.

Eyes as gray as steel appraised the Ferroan mercenary as they shook hands "That's Right, Lieutenant Colonel Krae Svar" with a clearly habitual gesture Krae thumbed the hilt of the short sword slung at his waist. The word "Mercy" clearly engraved in the side. Unlike his other pair of swords it was in basic. There was no Mando'ad word for Mercy. Also unlike his other swords this one had never shed blood. "I take it by the fact that you're here you received the payment. Hope it's worth it." Most Mandalorians would never dream of spending their hard earned money on Mercenaries but most were foolish enough to think they were invincible. Honor was all well and good but when the Mandalore gave you a job you did what was needed to get it done.

Not that Krae was sure these orders had come down from Bane but no doubt he would be told if they failed and even though Krae had numerous and strange habits failure was not one of them.
On that thought another pair of people entered the room. Krae's eyes flicked between them. A woman and her child, at least Krae assumed he was. After badgering brass he had managed to retrieve Valry's file and this was no doubt her. Before he could say anything to her though the boy in a rather carrying whisper noted the Ferroans color. The small innocent comment brought a real smile to Kraes face slight as it was.

Having traveleded pretty much the length and breadth of the galaxy on various missions Krae had seen so many alien species that things like appearance failed to register beyond identifying a species, but the little boys comment drew Kraes attention to Ronans skin color. It had been awhile since he had stopped to wonder at small things like that.

Valry hushed her son and turned back to the pair of them all business but Krae glanced at her son and gave a small warm grin and received a wave in return. a small wink and Krae returned his attention to Valry as she introduced herself. "Lieutenant Colonel Krae Svar" he said for the second time in so many minutes, forgoing a hand shake this time for a tap on his chest in salute. "And that makes all of us, you're dropping him off at his uncles you said? I think we can go over our task after that."

It wasn't that Krae was paranoid that the boy might say something about the mission to someone else it was simply it felt off to discuss the dangers his mother might soon be in, in front of him. It was better not to let him have anything to dwell on besides her absence. She'll come back kiddo, I won't let it be any other way he thought. silently as he glanced down at the boy wondering if those dark eyes could see the promise in his own.

[Silas]

The whisper of the door behind him brought his attention to snap away from the Mando before him who had met his handshake. Lieutenant Colonel… why did it surprise them that they had ranks? Was it the visceral chaos he had expected to find, or was he just over complicating this? There was much for him to learn of these people, however something of the woman who walked in the door made him grin. It was the absolute simplicity of the way she dressed, the casual gait made her seem as though nothing could touch her. A trait that carried into the gun at her hip that he had a feeling she would know how to use if all this went down hill before the end of the day. It reassured him just as much as the man who say behind the desk, perhaps even a bit more. The child next to her brought some sort of comfort too; people who had something to live for often fought harder. Ronan knew that first hand.

If she dies… if he is… As the thought emerged into his mind he quickly dashed it for fear the uncertainty he felt might appear on his face. It wasn’t simply the loss of his wife that scared him but what he might do with his children. Where they might end up if that fate ever came to be. That would never happen, though. He’d make sure of it.

The child’s blissful naivety refreshed his mind from the harsh inner workings of the galaxy they found themselves trapped in. While they fought their battles this child wondered on something so trivial as the colour of one’s skin. The boy gave him a shy smile, which only reiterated the innocence which he seemed to emit.

“And you’re just pink little boy. Green as summer’s grass,” He told the kid with a smile on his face, an empathy towards the young one was obvious on his face. It almost reminded him of his own in a way from a distance, “Valry….Valry,” He ran the name off his tongue a couple times before he responded, “Name’s Ronan. Not from ‘round here as you might notice.”

The lack of detail on this mission made him a bit weary as to the next move they would make. Things got out of hand quickly in the galaxy, and the sooner he knew what they were after the better. When they dropped off the kid it’d be a little safer, however it didn’t occur to him what a kid who hadn’t seen a Ferroan before could know of these things. Just send him to watch a holovid on the trip over, and tell the pair their next move would seem a safe enough bet. In the end even if they talked about it right now there was little chance he would repeat it, or ever remember it once he laid his head down to sleep.

One hand scrubbed through his dark black hair as he looked up at this Krae and said, “Can’t say I don’t trust you, but the sooner I get some intel on this the better.” For a second he stopped as he looked over towards the woman, “Not real excited ‘bout goin’ guns ablazin’ without knowing what we’re after, cap’n.”

With little more than that he stood his ground to see if they would move on to take this child to this uncle of its, or what would happen.

[Squee]

Orak seemed quite pleased with the attention he’d received. Krae had given the boy brief attention with a small switch of a smile on his face. And the blue man was rather amused by her son’s comment instead of offended. Valry’s shoulders relaxed. She was in a room with men who enjoyed children and weren’t going to cast annoyance toward the boy. After all it wasn’t Orak’s decision to accompany his mother to the mission briefing.

“And you’re just pink little boy. Green as summer’s grass.”

Orak giggled, but he was confused by the second half of the blue man’s statement. His forehead wrinkled slightly and then relaxed. He wasn’t even going to attempt to figure it out now. Which meant that she’d be asked next time they were alone. And just how long would that be? Valry continue to stare at her son, watching as his smiling white teeth turn from Ronan to match her gaze. A slight smile depressed Valry’s face. Orak’s face turned to Krae as the man spoke, where the bright teeth vanished as the boy and Krae shared a stare.

Meanwhile, Valry felt herself grow prickly. Her neck flushed slightly, and she looked at Krae. “I don’t wish to delay. I only brou—“ Valry stopped, recognizing her useless words. She clamped her mouth shut. She felt as if she’d inconvenienced Krae and Ronan. Well… she had. Bringing Orak had been a consequence of her ill managed time. Her nostrils flared and she swallowed her embarrassment. “My apologies. Very well, sir.”

“Going to see Ba’vodu?” asked Orak as he slid off the chair at his mother’s gesture. She held out her hand for him but when he reached her, he absently pushed his small bag against her fingers as he noticed Ronan had stood. Valry fixed her fingers around the bag’s strings as Orak grinned. “And Kebiin Jag is coming? And Verd Jag?”

She slipped her son’s bag over her shoulder and then Orak took her hand. “Yes, we’re all going to Uncle’s. You call them Mr. Ronan and Mr. Svar. Do you understand?”

Orak scowled displeasingly and walked beside his mother as she spoke to Ronan. “Having a plan helps, yes, but realize that my guns blazing means there’s bodies hitting the floor.” Valry shot a prideful smirk. “But I’d like to cause minimal damage if at all possible. Lieutenant Colonel Svar, is there anything you can inform us of?”

That’s when Orak leaned back to look around his mother to Ronan. “I can call you Kebiin Jag?” he asked in a rushed, hissed voice, as if it was supposed to be a secret. Then he tugged on Valry’s hand. “Buir, say what mean, please?”

Valry huffed. “No. You can tell him what it means, though I wish you’d simply call him Mr. Ronan.”

“… Mr. Ronan… I can call you Kebiin Jag because you are blue…?”

Let the boy solve his affairs… Valry told herself. Once outside, she spoke again. “My brother lives not too far. Would you rather I take him and return or are you going to truly accompany me and my son?” She hoped they’d say they’d await her return. Otherwise she’d have to admit that she did not own a speeder. A speeder would make the trip roughly ten minutes total, but on foot it was twenty minutes going one way. Valry was ready to reluctantly tell them, but silently she just begged release and then say she’d return in roughly an hour.

[Otterling]

“GET. OFF. MY. SHIP!!!”

Jahari rushed down the loading ramp with her head tucked and apologies tumbling off her tongue. A few stray cleaning supplies flew past her head, narrowly missing her as the ship’s captain raved behind her. She wasn’t really sure why he was so mad. It wasn’t like she’d done anything THAT bad, right? His files had simply been disorganized and he could certainly benefit from all the work she put into rearranging them into alphabetical order. Why he should be grateful, not angry. Of course, he hadn’t seemed as upset by the files as he had been about the subsequent realigning of all his socks and his entire underwear drawer but if he hadn’t wanted her to properly clean them all up then he shouldn’t have left that one drawer in the back of his cabin slightly opened. It was practically an invitation. Jahari muttered one last apology and watched sorrowfully as her bag was tossed off the end of the quickly retreating ramp. They hadn’t even bothered shutting off the engines.

She sighed and gathered up her bag, shuddering at the thought of what filth was probably now coating the bottom of it, and watched as the ship disappeared into the atmosphere in what must have been a new speed record. They must have very important business to get to, she told herself, after all they had been tasked at short notice by their chain of command to transfer her to her new assignment. The assignment had also been made at short notice, strangely enough it was right after she’d finished cataloging her superior’s many varied lovers and the subsequent slide show she’d offered him on the potential for transmitting disease that way. Jahari shrugged it off and turned to face the city behind her. Right away, she wished she were back on the ship. A new assignment meant new people to meet and that usually meant feeling ostracized all over again. Being ignored by one group of people she could get used to but it always bothered her a little to be ignored by all new faces she didn’t know yet.

Jahari hurried forward, ignoring the odd looks she was getting as she dashed toward the address she’d been given to report in to. As she walked she could almost feel the grime of the city marring the soles of her shoes and a shudder worked its way across her shoulders. She slipped into the non-descript building and quickly swept to the side of the hall so as to stay out of the way of much higher ranking Mandolorians. As a mere corporal, she felt utterly out of place in what was obviously a gathering ground for officers. She shuffled down the hall trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. The fight with the ship’s captain had put her a full half an hour behind schedule and she could already feel the tick under her left eye forming. She hated being late, hated it with a passion. Where was she going to get a whole extra half hour from? It wasn’t like time grew on trees! And now that she was here, there was no doubt that her new commanding officer was probably waiting for her and she was late and he was going to have a fit over that and then there would be more yelling and probably throwing things and…

The lift doors dinged open and Jahari’s head snapped up. The lieutenant getting off on her floor startled back at the look of sheer panic that was gracing her face and he skirted around her as if afraid she was diseased as she rushed to get into the lift. She tugged at the thin white cotton gloves that covered her hands and jabbed manically at the button marking the fourth floor. By the time the doors opened again Jahari had well worked herself into a fit of nervousness. She was so going to get killed for this. She was a whole half an hour late because of the fight with the captain and now her new commander was simply going to kill her. Jahari skittered down the hall at top speed and finally screeched to a halt just as the door to the room she had been aiming for opened. She snapped to the position of attention, her bag swinging wildly across her shoulders with the loss of her forward motion, and she stared wide eyed into the room.

A woman and child were blocking the doorway and were talking to someone inside that Jahari could barely make out over the lady’s shoulder. She risked only the slightest of glances down at the little boy who was clinging to what was presumably his mother’s hand. A precursory glance said that indeed he was likely her offspring since the two shared similarities of facial structure and hair consistency. Jahari snapped her eyes back up and waited nervously to be addressed so that she could begin the arduous task of being killed while apologizing profusely.

[Deleted]

Krae stood idle as Ronan jibed Orak in turn. Allowing himself a moment to be amused at the note on which this top secret mission briefing had begun. The slight cheer in him vanished at Valry's quickly hidden irritation and the Mercenary's own words about being uncomfortable with flying blind. Krae considered it all a moment before shaking his head. "Ronan I assure you that you will know all that I do before a shot is fired."

He felt the beginnings of a reemerging grin at Oraks Mando'ad names for Ronan and himself. warrior man he thought to himself with amusement but there was too little time to sit and dwell on the humor in it. Turning to Valry as she spoke he thought for a moment and then shook his head."Ronan and I will prepare for our departure while you take Orak to his uncles."

Krae turned slightly as his eyes caught movement behind Valry as she went to exit the door. Kraes mind jumped to several reasons why someone would be standing outside the door but only two seemed reasonable. Either they were waiting to speak with him, or they were trying to listen in on the briefing. With a sure movement Krae stepped past Valry and Orak careful not to jostle either of them.

"Can I help you?" Krae asked as he looked over the female Zabrak. Once more he found himself mildly amused. aside from the similar color of hair he looked on a person who was physically his polar opposite. Black skin to his pale white and white clothes to his black ones.

(OOC: taking a small liberty here, PM if you mind and I'll change it)

With no hesitation Krae accepted an offered datapad. A moment glancing over it and Krae frowned slightly. "Jahari Saad..." Krae said slowly as he continued reading. "assigned to this mission. I'm Lieutenant Colonel Krae Svar. Glad to have you along, try not to die."

With that Krae took a step back and turned in the hallway so as to encompass the three of them. Krae was making mental additions to his plans to account for Jahari's presence. It really was a blessing to receive another person at the last moment. Despite having little knowledge of what was to come he was sure that it would dangerous. This was top secret and whatever came of it would be covered in black ink. He knew from personal experience that those kinds of missions always got ugly.

[Silas]

The conversation between the boy and his mother sort of caught his attention as he tried to fill in the blanks in his mind. It seemed rather important to him that he follow what they were saying for he knew little about the Mandalorian’s or their language and to know even a glimmer of their society would possibly help him. The first step of any job was to get to know the subject to a degree in which you knew them better than they knew themselves. In assassinations it was imperative to be one step ahead of your opponent, so gathering information on them was almost as important as the act itself, and when pushed in a group as now it was also imperative to gain an understanding of those around you. If you go into a field of action without knowing the specifications of your gun, or without plotting out your plans it was like being blind in a fight against womprats; you were going to get hurt.

Hopefully before this all started he would be able to get a better feel for what this mission was going to be like, and the situation in which all these people were in. If he’d had enough preparation in this he’d have gotten background on each, and then a layout of exactly what they were going to do.

“… Mr. Ronan… I can call you Kebiin Jag because you are blue…?” The little boy’s question was blunt, to the point. Ronan was fond of that; he didn’t like people who hid their meanings behind a layer of complication. Hopefully this kid would keep that simplicity with him as he grew up.

With a sarcastic sigh he teased, “I suppose, but only if I get to call you little white boy.”

For some reason the kid really did remind the Ferroan of his own child back in the safety of his wife. In the course of this mission he would have to keep a careful eye out of the mother for he would not want something bad to happen to her. Despite this caution he felt as though the woman would need no protection at all and could hold her own fairly well. Only time would tell for certain, though. In the case that she was not as capable as it might seem, he would definitely need to take care of her for he could not imagine what he would do if his wife was killed. It brought him to wonder about the father, however, that might be a touchy subject so he decided to let it come up in its own time.

The words of this Krae did little to sooth his wandering mind when it came to the upcoming mission. The sooner they got time to think about this mission the better, however, he simply responded, “Of course.”

People. They seemed to crowd around him as they stood there with the addition of another member to their crew; this time a Zabrak. The female seemed well in shape; however she also seemed like an afterthought on this particular mission in hand. Hopefully everything would fall together in the end, though. Otherwise this little escapade was going to be troublesome.

[Squee]

Valry felt herself breathe a little easier as she was given leave to take Orak on her own. She’d escaped the embarrassing admittance that she did not have a transport. She nodded her understanding once to Krae, stating her return soon as she took Orak by the hand and began to lead him away. Over his shoulder, Orak waved once, saying his goodbyes to Krae in Mando’a and then basic to Ronan. Valry felt a small swell of pride over her son’s control of the two languages at his age and understanding. That was partly her doing as well.

Orak amused himself by jumping over cracks, his fingers squeezing hers every time he braced for a long hop. He didn’t like his bag banging against his back each time he leapt, so he’d somehow convinced Valry to carry it for him. Each time he did, she swore she’d refuse. He was five now, and needed to start carrying his own belongings. In fact, he needed to do many things. Eight more years until his verd’goten and he didn’t have an ounce of knowledge of what it meant to live as a Mandalorian. He knew of war that took his mother away and only a little about family.

“Buir, that be bad face.” Valry blinked down at Orak, noticing as he stepped on a crack. His onyx eyes fixated on her, he had lost interest in avoiding the cracks in the ground. His recent outspokenness about everything needed to be tempered, as well. He needed to know when to say things and when to be quiet. He was never rude, never ill-tongued, never had the intention to insult. He was simply a little boy.

He took his bag back just before they came to her brother’s front door. With permission, Orak raced ahead of her to knock on his uncle’s door with furious excitement. He’d only been over here a handful of times, but her brother had a soft spot for children, especially his own and his sister’s. Valry was surprised at how much her brother had become a family man. It was now a great relief; his wife remained to watch their infant daughter, and Orak required simpler care than a babe.

“Another mission?” her brother asked after the greetings were through. Jauran stared down at her from his tall height, Orak perched on his arm. “Vod’ika, you should consider a job on planet. Work for someone.”

“I know how to shoot things and how to be a wife to someone who knows how to shoot things, Jauran. When you can point me in the direction of someone who really needs hunting, I’ll do it. And not mercenary work. It’s just demeaning.” She sighed. “I wish I knew how to work on ships and vehicles. Then I could stay.”

Jauran set Orak onto the ground, encouraging the boy to go find his aunt and cousin. Then he crossed his arms. “You could always just stay here, Val.”

“I don’t… want a handout, brother.” Jauran lifted his hands in surrender and Valry continued, “I have a ship to catch.”

“Wait! Buir!” Orak squirmed from around his uncle’s leg to clasp onto her. “Love you, Buir. Come back?”

Valry smiled as she crouched to hug him close. “Always, Orak, always.” He nodded against her shoulder, then pulled away and dashed back inside. Valry sighed as she stood, nodded to her brother, and turned away.

“Vod’ika.” She glanced back at her brother’s voice. He jabbed a finger at her. “You come back, ya hear? Alive.” There was so much he was saying there. You promised Orak you’d return. You promise me you’ll return still alive.

Valry gave her best grin. “Always, brother. Always.”

---

By the time she’d returned, Valry had loaded herself with another, slightly bulkier bag hitched onto her back and carried a long, grayed hard case. A more square case was clutched in the opposite hand, replacing where Orak had once held her hand. At their departure ship, she set down her cases and oddly bulged back with the outlines of boots poking through. She crouched beside the long hard case, opening it up to give her rifle a brief examination, wishing she had time to take it to a range. It had been a little while, but she backed herself with confidence of knowing her rifle for more than ten years. Satisfied it was proper for the mission, she did the same with her pistols and, making room on her belt to hold the second blaster.

She rocked back onto her heels and sighed, forearms on her knees, and swirls in her stomach that grew worse when she looked at the ship. Here she went again. Her son grounded in a safe place and her off to dig footholds in a storm. If only I knew how to fix things… she frowned. I would not be going to defy the gravity of death once more.