Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Welcome to Way of the Storm!

I'm throwing y'all in the deep end with this one ;3

Inspired by

 - Cake by the Ocean by DNCE

Tundra - Mum, Buir

Jack - Ba'vodu Jackal

Qi - Ba'vodu Sai

[     *:･ﾟ✧  𝕓𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕕𝕒𝕪 ✧ﾟ･: *   ]

..._location; Tula Village, South Yua Sea, Naboo

..._date :

The Shack in Tula Village was probably one of the Vod'e's favourite destinations, for the sake of the absolutely gorgeous place that it was.

Then again, most of Naboo was similarly brilliant, but Tula Village held a special place in the Vod'e's hearts, considering that was where Ba'vodu Jack lived and thrived.

It helped that the villagers loved having them there, too. 

The Shack was Ba'vodu Jack's house, perched high on the cliff overlooking Tula Bay and its little fishing village. Ever the vigilant post, The Shack was developed over time to accommodate the technology equivalent to a Venator-Class Search-and-Destroy system - the various simple and unassuming telescopes, dotted around the roof of the house, that would, regularly, gaze upon the stars, served a far more ulterior purpose.

There was no inch of sky nor land nor sea around them that didn't have eyes pinned on them - Tula Village was probably as observationally secure as the Queens' bedroom in the Royal Palace of Theed, and that wasn't even talking about the Land-to-Air missile silos that were hidden inside of the cliff and at the bottom of the far end of the Lagoon.

Overkill? Maybe.

Tula Village was Jack's home - he would say it couldn't be any more protected.

---

The Shack, which started out just as such, was very humble on the outside, still maintaining its sand-and-salt crusted weathered wood facade. However, inside the quaint living room was a set of stairs, that twisted both up and down.

Burrowed deep within the cliff, lying in wait, underground, was the true house. 

At this point, the cliff no longer existed, actually. The dark rock face was just that, a face. So much of the cliff had been dug out and reconstructed that the cliff face merely served as a fortified wall. Even windows were carefully placed so that you could only see them from the outside at a certain angle.

The Shack was very, very cool.

Ba'vodu Jack was cool.

Thought Ba'vodu Sai would do everything in his power to deny it.

Kix could only drop his head in his hands as walls shook at another argument, thunderous in its power, as an unstoppable force (Jack) met an immovable object (Sai) once more.

"They're at it...again."

Hardcase snored next to him, slightly jumping when his body was jolted by the BANG! of a shoulder barge against the wall that shook the entire floor to where they were reclined on the couch, and the subsequent screech that was Sai being flattened, again, the heavy infantry still did not stir.

Jesse snorted in derision, "Yeah, and look what they did to my artwork!"

The ARC had spent the last ten minutes balancing a house of toothpicks constructed on top of Hardcases' nose. It was glorious.

Kix raised a well-practised eyebrow (he plucked them recently - they were on fucking fleek, just for the perfection that was his expression that would make politicians weep in shame. He practised this bitch, he's gonna look good doing it).

It worked on everyone, except Jesse, obviously.

"Think we should call mum?"

Kix's eyes actually widened in shock (after the shit he's been through, not much makes him do that anymore - shock factor be weak). Jesse, as proven many, many times throughout the war, was evidently insane. 

"She's with Fox, vod, you can't be serious."

Jesse only took it as a challenge - of course he did, for fucks sakes, shit.

Opening his mouth wide with a shit-eating grin, Kix tried to lunge over the corpse that was Hardcase's dead-asleep mountain of a body towards Jesse, but he was -

"MUUUUUUUUUUM!"

- ...too late.

Kix felt his heart seize, kark, as the whole building literally fell silent.

Even Jack and Sai called a ceasefire, stuck halfway between giving each other a headlock.

Everyone on Floor 3 turned to stare at Jesse, the fucker looking far too smug for his own good. 

The sharp grin he sent to their Ba'vodu'e was vicious in its victory.

The opening of an office door sent a visceral flinch through Jack's body that made Sai wince, a completely hopeless expression their faces that spoke volumes of their resignation.

"Jesse?"

Said boy grinned, sweet and cheeky, up at the Office Floor, towards Mum.

"Hiya, Mama!" He pointed to the dead slump that was the Ba'vodu'e, "Jack and Sai are fighting again!"

"See if I make you any pancakes, you little traitor," Sai hissed, affronted and betrayed. Jack just had that horrible kicked-tooka look on his face.

Mum's cold gaze swept over the room, staring dead-eyed at the di'kut'e in the living room, expression empty and body unreadable. Behind her, the infamous Guard walked up to the floor balcony and leaned against the banister, as half-hearted smirk on his worn features, body language equally inscrutable, speaking of an undeniable echo as he stood next to their Mum.

Fox was definitely raised by Mum.

It even made Kix shiver with how similar their movements were.

Whatever they put in that CC cesspool of genes, why did they all come fucking crazy? Is this the price of sentience? 

"Hmmm," empty, unforgiving, terrifying. Jack and Sai slumped, resigned to their fate, though they still refused to yield their headlocks, "What do you think we should do with them, Fox'ika?"

Kix did not trust that glint in his eyes.

"We haven't had a picnic in a while, Buir?"

Huh?

Mum side-eyed Fox for barely a moment, it was practically a blink, before a smile overtook her blazing orange eyes, "Wonderful idea, ad." Her attention left the Guard and fell upon the Guardians, "Get yourselves up. Let's have a picnic."

God, they even have the same eye glint.

"And maybe, we can settle this outside, like real men."

That brought a terrifying grin to all three of their faces. 

Kix just dropped his head in his hands again.

Oh, what the hell.

---

As punishment for messing up the living room with shoulder barges and a grenade, Jack and Sai were tasked with actually putting the picnic together and so they left to the kitchens to make the mountain of sandwiches that would be needed to feed a squad of clones and 3 Cabur (which means a shite ton of food, Jesus how much food - look at all that bread). Everyone else, Mum called out to the Vod'e to go and get their beach blankets and swimsuits/trunks, proclaiming a beach day.

Nice. The soft, white, pristine beaches of Tula was something no one had trouble with enjoying.

cough!~Except for Anakin~cough!

There were technically two beaches, split next to each other by The Shack cliff, where one side was the Tula Village beach, and the other side was uninhabited.

Well, not anymore. Nowadays, you couldn't pass a tree without seeing a Vod building a house into the mangroves. This week, though, the Vod Village was pretty much vacated, as most Squads were traveling either to the mainlands, or they were off-planet.

The afternoon was right on the tail end of the midday heat blast, so the air was stuffy and humid as the sea breeze remained vague.

The sea, the salt, the sand, ooooh yeah baby! Beach day!

They even managed to drag Dogma out of his room.

Tup helped.

Hardcase finally woke up, too. Wow.

Watching the others race ahead, kicking up sand and disrupting the peace - you can't go anywhere with them, God - Kix slowed down to walk alongside Mum and Fox, who were lagging behind. 

Their vigilance was a permanent sort of thing, as much as it worried Kix about their mental health. Such a constant occupation, no rest, it grated on his every fiber. He was a Doctor, for fucks sakes, and these two di'kut don't know the meaning of rest, anymore. Nothing escaped their gaze, nothing got under their guard. Nothing really happened without their knowing.

He really didn't want to think about their therapy, right now; It's Beach Day.

"What are you planning, mum?"

Mum and Fox looked at each other with a smirk.

"Wow, Vod, not beating around the bush at all, are you?"

Kix gave Fox a dry look.

Mum just rolled her shoulders, as if preparing for training, "Ahhh, I'm just going to beat your Uncles onto their asses is all."

Kix did not roll his eyes, he did not.

"Please don't bomb the beach, mum, we like it."

She gave Kix a smile that actually did reassure him, "Aww, no, I would never wish it. I do so adore this haven, too. I promise, my son, no grenades," Her smile turned sharp, oh no, "Just a good old fist fight - no Light."

Kix winced, Fox smiled.

At this point, the blankets and towels were laid out around the firepit, and Jesse and Tup were already in the water. Hardcase was diligently applying 100spf suncream to Dogma's back. Jokingly, Hardcase splodged a glob of suncream on his forehead, making Dogma jump back, face white and slimy and betrayed, as Hardcase began massaging/attacking the cream into Dogma's skin as if it were a stress ball, squeezing his cheeks like a grandma. Dogma looked very close to screaming, running away with one eye shut to avoid the suncream dripping in, as Hardcase began his chase with manic glee.

"Oh, come on, Dogma! Let me finish! We gotta properly protect your face so your tattoo doesn't fade!" Hardcase definitely had ulterior motives, if that gleam in his eyes had anything to say about it.

"NO! Your hands have CALLUSES!"

Kix and Fox just sighed.

Dogma, somehow, like the bloodhound that he was, sensed Mum nearby and sprinted, kicking up sand into Hardcase's face as roughly as possible.

"MUM!" Skidding into the sand, Dogma powerslided into Mum's shadow, "HELP ME! Hardcase is trying to break my face!!"

The metal teal head shook in giggles, eyes bright in laughter, "Hardcase. You know better than to break your little brothers' faces."

"Aww, nah, mum!" Hardcase ran circles around Mum, where Dogma was trying to keep her between them, "I'm trying -oof! come here! - to protect his tattoo, you see! It's cus I love him that I don't his face to become crusty!"

Dogma gasped indignantly, "That's not how faces work!"

Hardcase lunged.

Caught midair, the heavy trooper flailed as his plan was foiled. He tried wriggling about but as soon as he realised that it was futile, he stopped and hung limp in Mum's right arm. Smiling sweetly at Dogma, Fox and Kix, he gave a little wave, "Hiya, Vod!" As if he wasn't beaing carried like a guilty porg who just chewed a lightsaber. Mum snorted and effortlessly threw up her right arm to load Hardcase across her shoulder as if he didn't weigh the same as a bag of rocks. As soon as Dogma was safe, he stepped out from behind his Ori'vod'e to glare at Hardcase with his one eye open.

"Come on, Ma'ika, let's go finish your suncream," Tundra chuckled, lightly pushing Dogma's shoulder forward. 

The two ori'vod'e shook their heads with a sigh.

---

Mum was calmly kneeling on the largest blanket with Dogma sitting cross-legged in front of her, when the Ba'vodu'e finally appeared with the buffet.

With a basket each, they put it all down near the fireplace. Having barely have touched the ground, the baskets were immediately surrounded by the hounds that were hungry young clones.

They backed off when Fox approached, letting him take his handfulls, before they descended once more upon the rest. Jack and Sai looked conspiratorially at each other, revealing a final, smaller, box for themselves, as though expecting that the baskets would be raided.

Mum was carefully applying the suncream around Dogma's features, taking her time to do it gently and carefully. Too carefully, in Kix's eyes, but that was probably just Mum wanting to take the oppourtunity as much as she could with Dogma. The kih'vod didn't mind one bit, how long mum was biding her time.

Mum was vigilant in everything she did, and that included in loving her children.

Kix almost felt as though, she was probably trying to make up for lost time, in her eyes. Helping Dogma was a long, long road.

Again, it's Beach day, stop thinking about sad stuff, you old medic.

Fox joined them, obviously sitting right next to mum, slowly nibbling on his healthy sandwich full of greens and cooked meat, thank the maker. It looked like Kix's efforts to get Fox to eat his own balanced diet were finally paying off.

While mum was busy with Dogma, Fox easily took the overwatch. He seemed to almost relax by the sheer thought of just looking out for his Vod'e.

All too soon, however, Dogma was finished, but he was practically falling asleep where he was sitting, and Mum stood up with a pat on Fox's head, slipping off her overrobe and putting it around Dogma's shoulders. Underneath was but another robe, and under that was probably a fitness shorts and vest.

When Mum stood, so did Jack and Sai, and soon the whole squad realised what was about to happen. The vod'e in the water came sprinting back, cheers ringing loud and proud into the sky as they formed a vague circle, sitting at on logs or rocks at a fair distance, leaving a large and empty space for the Cabur.

Gathering in the middle of the clearing, the three giants stood, tall and tightly wound. 

"Fisticuffs; no Light."

Jack and Sai looked at each other with empty gazes before looking back at Mum.

"Hai. Best of three?"

Mum nodded, fire in her eyes, "Hai. Aschente?"

"Aschente."

The three Cabur launched at each other with a vicious spring that flung plumes of sand backwards at the force. Colliding in the middle, a flurry of echoing blows and loud thuds spoke volumes of the high-energy action of three powerhouses.

Mum jabbed at Jack's neck, Jack landed a well-rounded fist to Sai's face, mum getting her stomach rerendered with a lightning strike kick from Sai's legs. Sai getting pinned with his arm twisted back a fatal mistake that had him at Jack's mercy, mum kicking in the back of Jack's knee -

- and like every fight a Cabur did in their lives, brutal, unyielding, never hesitating. Holding a gun to a man's head as you held his life in your hands. Unflinching, powerful, relentless.

Every Guardian was built this way.

"ABSOLUTE UNIT!"

That had to be either Jesse or Hardcase.

"BITE HIS LEG!!"

Definitely Hardcase.

The thing about the Cabur'e fighting, was that no matter how violent or rough or bloody a fight got, it never looked like a brawl. 

Every hit, every punch and every kick was so well coordinated, so well struck and so powerful, but they were never uncontrolled. These were people who knew their strength and the consequences of such power. So many years fighting, they wouldn't have lived for so long if they didn't know how to enter a fight with a nuke, and walk out with the building still standing.

They also kept the very strict distance between them and the vod'e but mistakes can still happen in the heat of battle.

So when Jack threw Sai far too close to where Tup was perched on top of a rock, he'd only realised when Sai's body was already on its way through the air.

Tup yelped and ducked behind the boulder.

Obviously, with eyes like the hawk that she was, Mum screeched and jumped onto Jack's back in immediate retribution swiftly delivered. 

Kix leapt straight into action and pulled Tup away from his boulder and instead towards Fox and Dogma's blanket.

"I'M SORRY! I'M SORRY!!" Jack was spinning, trying to pull Mum off his back and out of the choking headlock. Disorientated, Sai finally got up in a crouch before leaping at Jack as he stumbled by, catching him around the waist.

The Titan finally plummeted with a resounding thud into the sand, the vibrations of the titanic fall echoing through the ground. Winded and assaulted, Jack lay limp and groaning in the dust, as Mum and Sai sat on him. With a fist bump to the other, Jack wheezed beneath them.

"I yield."

"You'd better," Mum panted, "apologise to Tup'ika."

Sai chuckled mercilessly.

Tugging out an arm that was pinned beneath him, he tapped out into the sand, "I'm sorry, Tupperware! Jeez, get off, you guys are sitting on my broken ribs!!"

"They are not broken."

"They feel like they are!"

"You wuss, they are not broken, I can feel them."

"How can you feel them underneath my thicc ass pecs?"

Sai just groaned, holding his head in his hands, "Round 2?"

The Vod'e roared in delight, the cheers billowing into the dusk.

Chapter Text

Most times, Jaster was vilely, deeply, ruthlessly unimpressed by Coruscant.

The Senate, the Republic, the squalor.

Disgusting.

But Tundra was here on a diplomatic mission, regardless, and as her Buir, it was his responsibility to make sure no scum dares to plot against her. Not like she needed the help, but he didn't like the thought of her being here without someone close by.

Sure, almost all of her sons were on-planet during this reprieve, but it wasn't enough, not with their current situation. 

This Bill could literally mean life or death for their boys, and she couldn't afford distractions. That's what Jaster was here for.

That was why he was sitting here in the Rotunda, at the Senatorial mess (more like top-level restaurant) with nothing but his firewater and his buy'ce as his companions. With generous sips of his pathetically small glass of firewater on the rocks, he watched his surroundings with a cold eye, at every passing Senator that religiously avoided even looking at him. 

Sitting reclined, he appeared relaxed, harmless, but his aura twisted an opposite story. Manda, he might be Force Null, but it's not like, in all his life, he didn't learn how to project - it came in handy in various... interrogations. Here, he was a predator lying in wait as his senatorial prey frolicked through the grass. These politicians weren't going to try and make his life easier, here on Coruscant, the cesspool of banthashit that it is, so he wasn't inclined to do the same.

He was in enemy territory. 

All he had to do was maintain appearances for Mand'yaim and his Mand'alor, and he could do it while seething.

Here in the Senatorial mess hall, he took a booth close to the door, with his back to the wall and no window within his direct line of sight. As per new regulations, there was a Guard posted at every entrance.

The small hand tap against his blaster from the trooper at the far left side entryway, a trooper named Wave, signified a new character had entered the hall. 

Good boy, good man, that Wave. Diligent, observant. 

Jaster raised his glass to his lips in response. 

He watched as the new character entered the restaurant and was surprised to see a familiar face. 

Mace.

Well, really, for such an important Bill going through today, he should have expected the High Council to come and represent their Army. Perhaps, it was all the better if it was the Master of the Order.

Jaster took a generous swig of his firewater, letting it burn in the combustion of his low rumbling anger.

Mace Windu was good, level-headed man - if Tundra liked him, then so did he. Perhaps their first meeting wasn't the greatest, but Windu had proved an honest and honourable man. Jaster could not have approved more, even if he was a Jedi.

 Raising his glass when the dark-skinned man caught his gaze, Windu nodded and made his way across the hall, wading through the various saccharine greetings or scalding assertions by the many snakes throughout the hall. When Mace sat down next to him in the booth, his stare immediately wandering over the room the similar way that Jaster first had done when he chose the seating place, Mace nodded in approval and sat back, relaxing as much as a man in war could.

"Dai Jetti."

"Tayl'Mand'alor."

Jaster poured him a drink.

With the tiniest prickle of surprise in Mace's expression, he nodded at the approval and took the glass.

Smart man.

If Jaster was going to be honest though, the man looked like he needed it.

Jaster took a swig and refilled his own glass, "Mando'a?"

"Elek, Tayl'Mand'alor. I took it as an elective during my apprenticeship - I find that it is a skill well-used," Mace took a polite sip, ", Nowadays."

"Hmmm."

"I hope to not overstep, but I find that my troops were surprised that their General could... connect with them, and their culture. I believe they appreciated it." 

Jaster hid his smile behind his glass. Giving a wink to the trooper stationed at the entryway closest to them, Tank, who shifted slightly as he saw Jaster talking with the High General (it was cute, but really, what could happen?), telling them that all was well, he noticed Mace just hardly shift at their exchange. 

Ahhhh, right, The Force. The Force that Mace has, The Force that can make people feel other people's emotions through, Mace's Force. 

Jaster couldn't help but smirk - I wonder how much I can fuck with this kid's head.

The Master of the Order sent him a sharp glance, making him raise his arms in mock surrender. Wiggling his eyebrows at him, Jaster projected as much smugness as he could possibly procure, sending the aura hurtling through the Force, or whatever.

Watching the Jedi Master clamp up at the obvious bomb of passion was hilarious, like, genuine joy flooded him. At least he knew he wasn't out of practice.

"Mando'ade are nothing if subtle, Tal'Mand'alor."

Oh, you politically correct, cheeky little -

"I do hope your Mand'alor succeeds in her exploits," Mace leaned forward expression suddenly firm, shields taut and harsh. Leaning on his elbows with his hands crossed together beneath his chin, "As Master of the Jedi Order, I have come to personally express my gratitude and my apologies - our position in the Republic... puts our available hands in a difficult position."

That, Jaster was not expecting. 

He sat back, swinging his arms across the back of the seat, giving Mace a thousand-yard stare with a raised eyebrow. The troopers at their doorposts all shifted at the motion, but Mace did not look at them, he couldn't afford to. To do so would be admission of guilt, of fear. He wouldn't do that to Jaster or their soldiers.

"Gar ceta?" 

Mace barely hesitated, absorbing the meaning of the words, before nodding, "Ni ceta, that we couldn't do more. This Bill is an oppourtunity for you and your people and it should be our duty to help," a weight seemed to grow exponentially upon his already lead-laden shoulders, "Our Duty is our mission of peace in this galaxy and that includes sentient rights. The fact that we cannot support a Civil Rights bill passing through our Senate right at this very moment, it grates. We have failed our own soldiers, we have failed your people. N'eparavu takisit, that it took us this long to see it -"

"My Mand'alor supports your Jedi Order."

Mace froze, "I'm sorry?"

The old Protector leaned forward, a proud and dark grin upon his lips, "You are an honest man, my friend. My Daughter fights not only for her Children, but her Children's Watchers, too. She feels she owes much to you, as much as your Order owes much to us," Jaster waved his hand when Mace tried to speak, even though he doubted much would helpfully come out anyway, considering the shock the man was projecting. He put a firm hand on the Jedi Master's shoulder, "It is not a debt. It is a promise my Mand'alor made, from our peoples to your peoples - I was only worried that it was not returned. I thank you, for proving me wrong."

Jaster leaned back again after giving a conspiratorial pat on the man's robed shoulder, "Our 91st boys speak highly of you. I never doubted."

If only Jaster had a holocam right now, he could capture the impressive imitation of a fish the Jedi Master currently made. Tundra would never believe him.

All was going exceedingly well, even by Tundra's plan. 

Mace Windu returned to himself impressively quick. He seemed practically embarrassed by the excess of emotion he just projected, even though the man's shields were probably as hard as beskar, now.

He was clearly trying to process the sheer volume and importance of what he just learned.

Jaster couldn't help the somber smile - the Jedi had forgotten their allies, though from what he knew, it has been quite some time since they'd had any.

He was so proud of Tundra being one of the first.

For Mando'ade to extend the friendly hand their historically brutal foe, first? It was a profound change, a highly welcome one.

Jaster could not be more tired of the bad blood between them. Mistakes were that, things of the past, forgiveable though not forgettable. No, Mando'ad draar digu. 

But they can forgive it, with just enough hope. 

Tundra was an astonishing person, a brilliant daughter - he could not be more proud, and yet, he was proven wrong every day of his life. 

Jango had learned so much from his ori'tat, had grown so much. Change was worn spectacularly on him, if his Jetti riduur had anything to say about it.

He took another swig of the fueling firewater, looking away from the Jedi to give him the space to compose himself. 

Both of their cultures would do better united than divided, that much he knew - they were so similar, could coalesce on so many aspects of their ethnologies, and their differences could spark healthy debates rather than wretched bloodshed. Though history had not yet proven it, it is only in the present actions of today that will create tomorrow's history books. 

Yes, Jaster hummed, content, that would be a lovely history book to read.

The dark-skinned man took his time to digest, and they sat silently together, waiting. Mace caved first, too curious of the implications, too wary of the consequences.

"What does this mean for us? What are you offering?"

Jaster only grinned a toothy, sharp smile, eyes wandering the Senators who watched a Jedi and a Mando, "What are you offering, my friend? You have more to say."

Mace paused. He looked at Jaster, looked at the stiff-postured, ever-present, woefully dutiful soldiers at the doors, looked at the Senators, whose wandering eyes shielded their poisonous lust for gossips and drama over a Mandalorian and a Jedi. He thought about his people, his friends, his dear, loyal soldiers, his family.

He thought about the fierce debate between Shaak, Plo, and Obi-wan and their raucous final decisions.

"I do believe that my fellow Jedi will be unexpectedly entering the Senate Rotunda, today."

Jaster's grin turned positively vicious, "Obviously, you have no idea what they're up to."

"Of course not."

The old Mand'alor finally turned his shark-like beam upon him. The monumental, primal urge hidden in his expression, his agenda tightly and savagely coiled through his corded muscles and down his very spine. It was a smile, a smirk, of a vengeful promise. 

The world felt a little quieter, sharper and clearer than ever before. The poisonous malice that emanated from the very walls of the Senate building seemed muffled compared to the sheer projection of a single man. Mace's head began to ache at the familiar, practically welcoming compared to right now, feeling of a Shatterpoint, forming before his very mind's eye.

"I look forward to seeing you in the Rotunda, my friend."

Oh, what had they done.

---

Mace felt uneasy. He didn't feel uneasy, that wasn't supposed to happen. 

Jaster was an uneasy man, a dangerous one.

The old Mand'alor's darkness wasn't just that, though. His darkness burned, his hatred cold.

It was unlike anything he had felt before, but he supposed, that was what a Mandalorian felt like.

A Mandalorian, since the beginning of Jedi history books, had always been notoriously difficult to read within the Force. This fact was regardless of the gargantuan variation of their species. It was a quality known only to Mando'ade, a feeling only a Force-sensitive could touch. It was a distant, mysterious, twisted sort of feeling.

It was this that they used to use to identify actual Mando'ade - their Death Watch captives may have once been Mando'ade, but as soon as they became Kyr'tsad, they returned to normalcy.

It was a mystery that their greatest Jedi scholars had spent their lives to solve.

Mace realised, that seeing the hidden aura so freely, so fresh within his mind, that now? He could see it everywhere.

It threaded the very souls of his soldiers, weaved through their force signatures, entwined their souls amongst the Vod'e. 

He could see it everywhere.

Oh, what had they done?

Seeing it weave through every crack and their vessel while in the Rotunda was an experience to behold. 

It wound through Obi-wan, through Shaak and Plo, as they stood ready with their speeches, their arguments, their behests. It enveloped through the bones of the Guard posted at their doors. It twisted and coiled and snapped vehemently in the gargantuan hall, choking those not claimed by the aura, twirling spritely amongst its chosen.

He could see it dance around himself.

He'd wondered, if that creature at Mand'alor Jai'galaar's back was always there, crouched in its monstrous form, spilling like slick oil on fire from Tundra Mereel's gears, flaring through her robes, a halo surrounding her buy'ce.

Wings of flames at her straight back.

He wondered, if Palpatine could glower even more the longer the Mand'alor proclaimed her vows demanding change to this darkened Republic, as her son, Fox, stood proudly next to her.

Jaster Mereel caught his eye, the man grinning at him from his position at his Mand'alor's side. 

Now, you know.

Chapter Text

inspired by edgy and dark songs, i dunno, forgot the names lol

 - 

e̸̢̞̪̿͐͝ n̴̫͉̞͛̕ o̸̼̠̝̽͛͘ u̸̢̪͔͊͋͌ g̴̡͉͓͆̚͘ h̵̫̠͓̓̔̓ i̵͓͓͍͛̾̽s̵̼̫͉͒͆̕ e̵̘͎͓̓̽͆ n̸͔̠̺̽̕ o̵̦̠̞̾̚͝ u̵̡͎͎͌͌ g̴̞͓̦͑̓̔ ḧ̵̪̫́͆̕

---

location_: [ Tipoca City, Kamino, Outer Rim ]

date_: --/--/----

Ba'vodu Tundra smiled calmly at Buir, but I could tell that it was fake.

I could tell because her bright orange eyes would dim. Sharing a look with Maul, he looked back at me with the same worry in his own red-yellow eyes. 

Sneaking a look at Dad, I watched the flinch - Dad flinched - travel in a sharp jolt across his shoulders as he bowed his head to shovel the vegetables into his mouth, as if to plug it before he said any more.

Maybe, Dad shouldn't have mentioned Vau.

---

That night, as Auntie T and Maul left for their own apartment, Dad called bed-time, as usual. We brushed our teeth together, washed our hands and faces, and dad quickly braided my hair for sleep. We did it silently and quickly, no change there.

As I went to bed to read and dad received the final reports from the trainers for the day, I couldn't help but listen a little closer when dad exchanged datapads with Walon Vau. Their greeting was unchanged, dad didn't react any differently.

"Fett."

"Vau."

"I heard the Mand'alor was here today," Vau paused, I could imagine his mocking head tilt, "That must grate."

"Good night, Vau."

With another pause that was probably their customary stare-down, Vau finally scoffed and I could hear the small jangle of a leash.

"Come, 'Mird."

Dad didn't close the apartment door yet, watching Vau leave down the white hallways, probably as gleaming as ever.

99 does a good job. 

I finally hear the close of the apartment door and Dad sighing. With the light shuffling of clothes, I could almost see Dad running a hand down his face. He stood silently for a few seconds before deciding to step towards my room, until the doorbell suddenly rang.

That wasn't right.

Dad taught me a strict schedule - if anything was out of place, that meant someone was deviating, something was happening. Sure, not everything always went according to schedule, but Dad would always say that as long as you know your time is right, everyone else's is wrong - except for Grandpapa and Auntie, and Obi's.

We both waited. I heard the apartment door reopen.

"Make sure your boy stays in tonight, Jango."

Skirata.

Wait! - Skirata never calls Dad, Jango. Never.

After a long pause that was probably that weird Mando staring conversation thing, Dad probably nodded at Skirata with that serious frown he sometimes gets, and the apartment door closes for the final time.

My bedroom door slides open and Dad walks in. Sitting on the side of my bed, I look up from my book.

Dad was looking at me with one of those funny stares he sometimes gives to the Vod'e as he daydreams during their training in the halls. What I didn't really get was why he was looking at me with that look.

After a staring contest, me testing dad's resolve as I narrowed my eyes, dad smiled and reached out and squeezed my nose. I frowned and batted his hand away, lifting my book as he tried to reach out again.

"Dad!"

"Next time," I dodged again, "Practice your glare. It won't work until you lose these cheeks of yours," he aims for my left cheek this time and I narrowly avoid it. I giggled when dad took the opening to tickle me instead, "But you might as well get the practice in - you won't scare a tooka with those pouts."

"I wasn't pouting!" I half-shouted, dad slightly shushing me, "99 said it was good!"

He gave me that weird look again, but it looked a little sadder, somehow.

"You will go to bed, Boba," he pointed at me, a serious stare taking over. I gulped with a nod, "You will not have one of your adventures tonight -"

"Is it because of Vau? Because of what you said at dinner?" Dad paused, thinking what to say as. "Auntie didn't look happy - she smiled, but her eyes were dim. It was a lie-smile. Auntie isn't happy because of what you said at dinner, isn't she?"

Dad seemed to sag as he sighed, looking away from to glance at my book, at my drawings, at the door, before looking back at me. He looked straight into my eyes, "No. Ba'vodu isn't happy, you're right, ner ad."

I thought about how Auntie seemed to darken, not only at her eyes, but how her whole body seemed a little colder, a little darker. I thought about how her dim, angry eyes stared straight through dad, cutting through the air.

To be honest, even though her eyes were dimmer, I couldn't help but feel as though her eyes couldn't have looked any more like a fire, as if the air was made thinner by her own hands as she waited for the breath that would relight the inferno that was her orange blaze. But, even though she smile-glared at dad, it wasn't for dad. Well, maybe a little bit.

"Is...Is it because of Vau? About what you caught him doing?"

I had never seen Dad sag more.

"I have -... I made a mistake, Boba. A big one. I failed your Aunt, and now she's gone to fix it."

Dad promised to never lie to me, but this was more than just telling the truth.

I think back to Maul, at dinner. As soon as Dad accidentally said what he said, Maul flinched and looked up from his soup, his spoon splashing into the broth as he stared at Auntie. She smiled and patted his hand and gave him a napkin to wipe the small splash on the table, and Maul had hesitated. Then, he looked at me. His eyes were wide, not really panicked, but shocked.

No doubt, he felt something through that Force of his. Even I felt it, just slightly, as Auntie projected loudly.

"What's she gonna do, Dad?"

Why wasn't I allowed out tonight? All the Vod'e get to go out, why just me?

It's always just me.

Dad gave me a careful look, the one he always does when he does that thing like he's reading my mind even though he's not Force-sensitive.

"It won't be safe, tonight -"

"We're literally in the middle of the city, Dad -!" 

He raises a hand to stop my interruption with small, scolding glare and I clamp my mouth shut.

"Absolutely under no circumstances, are you to leave your room tonight," Dad put a firm hand on my shoulder, locking his eyes with mine, the same golden-brown that I knew mine were, "Do you understand me, Boba?"

I searched Dad's eyes for anything else, but with the way they were darkened in seriousness, I knew I wasn't getting any more answers tonight. I nodded.

"Yes, Dad."

At this, Dad searched my own eyes, his eyes, before he was satisfied with what he found and he smiled. Patting me on the head, he pulled my book away and added my bookmark before he stood up to tuck me in.

I loved this, as much as I was probably getting too old for it - I'm 7, now! Grandpapa says I'm growing into a big boy, now!

With a kiss on my forehead, dad left my room and gently slid the door closed, and my room fell dark apart from the night light by the door, and silent apart from the dull thrum of the thunder outside.

I uncrossed my fingers.

---

I waited, probably, an hour? Until I knew dad was asleep. He had taken his time, no doubt, to compile the last bits of flimsi-work, but it was shorter than usual. I think because of whatever is happening tonight, he wanted to get more rest. Or something like that. 

Either way, of course, I snuck out. Not through the front door, obviously, but through the vent hidden under the bunk. Soon, I would be too big for it, but it served its purpose tonight.

The small vent in my room led to the greater connected vent systems, big enough to the point that I could sit up in some of them.

Ever since I found out about the old, sealed vent in my room, I had done everything to make sure Dad would never find out. Besides, Vod'e don't snitch.

I climbed through the crawlspace until I was right alongside the hallways to the point that I could watch some of the night patrol troopers walk straight past me as I watched them silently through the grates. Soon enough though, with enough waiting, everything that I had been waiting for, happened.

The night troopers began to thin out towards the south training halls, which was usually highly patrolled because of the storm drains that could be infiltrated nearby. Our apartment was in the west sector, and the trainers apartments were all in the southwest sub levels. Soon enough, there were no more night troops, and the glaringly white hallways were soon really, creepily quiet.

It was like all the patrols on this side of the sector were all called off, and there wasn't many people who could do that. But I wasn't worried about the security risk - with Auntie in the house, nothing could touch Tipoca.

Now, just where is Vau?

And as if all my wishes were answered, faint voices echoed from further down the vents. The only way from here was two paths; one to the training halls and the other to the janitorial. It had to be the first, so I headed towards that training halls. It was the only one that made sense.

The voices became evidently clearer as they stopped echoing around the metal. I sat next to the grate that was directly above Hall 3, the mod room. From here, I could only see shadows as I couldn't move any further forward in the dreaded vent creaked, but the voices were clear as day.

Vau was down there. Why he was in Hall 3, I had no idea, but as I watched that slinking strill wander about, it looked more like Vau was just taking his ugly beast for a walk. Hopefully, I was too high up for the bloody thing to smell me.

"You called me here, Bralor. I complied," his shadow showed a small bow, however distorted by the angle of lighting that it was. "What do you want."

Bralor?

"You've been called to face your crimes, Vau." Her voice was cold and detached, scary, to be honest. She's never like that with me, I've never heard her voice so...so dark, before.

The hall fell silent. I held my breath, as if the fear of the emptiness might just betray me if I breathe just a little too loud.

"What are you playing at, Bralor? Did Skirata put you up to this?"

Skirata is in on it, too? Well, the Old Man always did give Vau dirty looks.

"For the crime of abuse towards a Mando'ad, what do you plead?"

"What are you talking about? I -!"

"For the crime of abuse towards children of Manda, what do you plead?"

"Bralor -!"

"Answer the question, hu'tuun!" Bralor's voice rose, and this time, her anger was plain in her tone, "What do you plead!"

"For the love of Manda, Bralor-!"

"Don't!" Her voice seared, "Do not incite Manda in front of me, hu'tuun, do not. Answer the damn question; did you abuse Delta Squad."

"Bralor," Vau's voice dropped.

"Did you hurt the children in your care?" her voice was so full of hate. A familiar whir of a blaster echoed through the hall, "Answer me right now, you bastard, or I'll shoot you square."

"They will never become good soldiers, or even good Mando'ade -!"

"EXCUSE!" Bralor roared, "There is no excuse for abuse!"

"Bralor! Put the blaster down!"

"Enough."

Osik. I'm not allowed to say that word.

"I..." she paused, "I have seen enough."

That was Ba'vodu Tundra.

"Mand'alor!" 

"Elek, ner Mand'alor."

The hall fell in tense silence. I watched the third shadow enter the scene, circling Vau. Surrounding him.

"Do you believe yourself justified, Walon Vau?"

"Leader, please, I don't know what Bralor is accusing me of -"

"She," Auntie roared, sudden and vicious, "is not! I am."

I could practically feel Vau's shock growing from here.

"I have been borne witness to your crimes, Vau. Do not lie to this Mand'alor's face, for to do so is to spit on Manda and all its children. Do not attempt to evade! Confess, to the evidence found against you. Perhaps, Manda shall mercy you."

"Leader, please, I- I did it for them! To make them stronger! They will survive the war to come, because I made them stronger -!"

"Is that what you believe?" Auntie's voice became a little, a lot colder, "Truly?"

What is Auntie getting at? Why would Vau have done what he did if he didn't mean it? Dad says, a Mando'ad does not waste his efforts.

"Do you believe that the path to strength is pain? Suffering?"

Auntie's shadow moved, a triple visage projected across the walls of the halls but I still couldn't see her. But Vau had shifted, shuffled backwards, and was now almost beneath my grate. He had his arms up in a calming sort of gesture, but the shadows only rippled around him, unresponsive.

"Suffering, unto others, is the path to power. The desire for power. You mask it for strength, but you severely misinterpret its many meanings."

The hall began to shift and the shadows multiplied and grew taller. 

I forgot, that training Hall 3 is a mod room; it seemed Vau forgot, too.

Platforms began to appear, rising like towers around him, but the room did not stop shifting. Pillars rose and fell as the room transformed into a complicated, changing, maze. I watched with rapt attention as Vau tried to orientate himself, and forgot that Auntie's shadow had disappeared.

"Strength is power, but power is not strength. Strength is the ability to use power," the voice grew distorted, it echoed and bounced from every corner. Vau span in circles to try and follow her voice and his 'body-language' - dad says - became more and more panicked. Fearful. "But with power comes responsibility. Consequences."

"Please, my Leader! I can expla -!"

Vau yelped as something shot out and struck him, hitting the center of his chest and knocking him on his shebs, "I've heard enough explanations!" Vau scrambled and the lights dimmed until I could barely make out his black armoured figure, "Enough excuses."

It was then that Auntie's voice didn't sound like Auntie anymore, and the darkness gave way to something else.

"̵̺͇̔̽̐P̸̡͕͖̒͑͠r̸̡̺̠͒͝a̴̢̪̼͐͊y̵͓͙̾̓͑͜ t̵̟͓͔̐̒͛o̴̪͖͍͑̽ M̵͉̪͎̓͛̓a̵͉̫͕͌̕͝n̵̞̼̿̚͠d̵͎͉̔͒̽͜a̸͙̠̦͆͆ f̸̫͉̒͒̓o̵͙͍͎̽͝r̵̠̠͍̽͆ m̸̡̦̽̐͘͜e̴̺̞͌͑͋r̴̢̫͍͒̕͝c̵̘͉̪̿̕͝y̵̠̝͓͊͛,̴̙͉͒͜ a̸̟͎͖͊̓͐n̸͔̠͇̓̔͠d̵̠̺̻͋̐ p̴͇͖̫̈́̓̒r̸̫̪͌̿͐͜a̸͇̼͑͌͜͝y̸̢̝̺͆͊ t̴̺̠͐͐͝h̸̦̟̟̓̿̕a̸̡̝͙̒͒͐t̸̟͔̺͒͠ y̴̟̟͋̿̚o̵̼͚̘͐u̴̝͇͚̿̓͌ w̸̡͔͕̓͑̾i̴͉̺̠̿͐͘l̴̡̻̞̐͌̾l̸̟̻̾ b̵̫͖͍͊̈́͝e̸̘̦̝̐͛̕ h̵̺͎͕͆͝͠e̴̡͉̽͝a̵̙̦̔͘r̵͇̫͎͆̔̔d̸̟̫̺͌̐͘.̴͙̠̙͐̔̚ Ÿ̵̢̡̠́̈́o̸͚͚̾̽͜͠u̴̢̠͓̓͝ a̴̡͖̦͘͠r̴̺͚͛̿͌e̴͔͖͑̈́̕ D̴͕͙͒͑͜a̸̟̫͙͋̔͛r̴̟̻̾̾͆'̸̞̝͇̽͛͝m̴̡͍̟̔͘a̴̢̫̠̓͝n̵͎̦͛̚͜͠d̵̦͙͕̔̓ä̸͖̻́̐̿.̴͖͙͍͐̔"̴͙͍̼͋͠

Something slithered across the pillars, whose movement had slightly slowed. The whole room felt like it was becoming sluggish in time. From the far corner of the room, I could see something growing, and glowing.

Vau screamed.

I couldn't look away.

A violent jerk of my shoulders and something being pulled across my face made me yelp, but my shock was blanketed, smothered, drowned, by the sudden wails that emanated from every wall, piercing shrieks that pounded through my bones and between my ears, violent, merciless, crashing of symbals and a cacophony of crushed metals.

At least, that's what it sounded like, the closest thing that I could compare to.

It was nothing I had ever heard before in my life, nothing I could ever dream.

It felt like a nightmare.

I never knew nightmares could be real.

I didn't know I was shaking until something shook me harder.

Clamped tight against a polycotton surface that rubbed against my cheek, there was a faint shushing that pushed back the explosions in my ears, in my skin, in the metal around me. The humming grew and grew until the screeching was gone, or at least, like someone had thrown a pillow at a datapad. 

I was no longer being overwhelmed. 

The screaming was gone. Or at least, it stopped, like someone could scream no more from how hoarse their voice had become.

I was being held. The clamps around my body were arms, sleeved ones, dressed in soft black, I could see.

I looked up, or tried to, with how tightly I was tucked away into the forceful hug.

"Maul?"

A black and red face stared down at me, red and yellow eyes stared through me.

"Maul? What -what are you doing?" 

Something felt wet, salty, something dusty, grimy. Everything in my body felt too far away, am I even speaking?

The walls were screaming and the floor was screeching, everything was shaking, turning, twisting. It was dark, cold, cold.

"Maul, please!" I grabbed at his soft-robed back, I clung to him, I screamed into his shoulder from where he tucked me up against his neck. " - is going on? Maul, Maul! Why was Auntie here, please!"

Where is my Ba'vodu?

The only response he gave me was the tightening of his warm arms around me, pulling me into his lap and hiding my face, my body, my fear, enveloped. Gently rocking, a firm hand around the back of my neck, I could feel the almost rough hug as much I could feel Maul's heartbeat against my own chest with how tightly he held me.

It grounded me. I could feel.

I could feel everything yet nothing at all.

Hush, Boba, be still, be still. Be with me. 

I can breathe.

You're alright.

Maul?

You're alright, Bubble Tea. It's alright, I'm here.

Maul.

---

I crawled out of the vent and out from under my bed, pushing some stuff out of the way for Maul to squeeze through without disturbing it by accident.

As far as we both knew, Dad was still dead asleep.

Slowly and carefully, I lifted my duvet and slid onto my bed. I didn't settle until my entire body was hidden, with the edges of the covers tucked inside with me, making a fluffy cacoon, warm and safe.

Maul sighed.

A pillow appeared through a gap that Maul made. I quickly snatched it in and settled again.

I felt the bed dip as he sat down next to my cacoon, and I truly did my best not to flinch when I felt his hand on top of my den. Maul just rubbed my back, instead, through the duvet.

"Did Jango not warn you, Bob'ika?"

Maul definitely knew Dad told me exactly what not to do - he just wanted me to tell him that.

"You're the one that taught me to lie."

Maul pinched my side, and even through the layers I could still feel it. He pinched me hard, it hurt.

"Not against your Buir, little one," he went back to rubbing my back, "You should never lie to your father - he loves you and trusts you. It would hurt him dearly for you to break that."

There was definitely more to what he just said that he's not telling me, but I could guess.

"Did you lie?" I hesitated, "...to Auntie?"

Maul stopped rubbing for a bare second, "Yes."

It was that kind of tone that all Mando's had, the one that meant there was way more he could tell, but wouldn't.

"...Did you hurt Auntie?"

"Once." Never again, he didn't say.

I thought about what happened tonight, what I saw, what I heard.

There was so much that I wanted to ask, but no question felt right. But I had to ask something.

"What did Auntie do?" To Vau.

Maul stopped rubbing.

"Vau committed a great crime, little one," Maul's voice could not be any quieter, "And Auntie, you know who she is?"

I thought about that, actually. "She's the Mand'alor."

"Our Mand'alor." Maul shifted slightly, it felt like he was moving to cross his legs on the bed. "Do you know what the Mand'alor is?"

This was easy - Dad only repeated it, like, 20 times. "The Mand'alor is the King of Kings, the leader of our people. They are chosen by the people, they lead us. Through any and every battlefield, the Mand'alor's represents our victories, fights for our victories. The people choose the Mand'alor, worthy, strong and brave. And they, uh, they? The Mand'alor is the people? A Mand'alor can only exist, uh..."

"A Mand'alor is nothing without their people, clan, and banner."

"Yeah, that!"

"Well done, Bob'ika," Maul started rubbing my back again. Maul's back rubs are really nice, and his hugs are really warm, too. Dad says it's because he has two hearts, so his blood is warmer, or something like that. "As Mand'alor, you have many responsibilities. When your people call you, you must answer. The Mand'alor can call the banner, but that is one side of the same credit. Our Mand'alor answered a call for help. In the end, she may have helped one of the Mando'ade, but she had to condemn another. Justice is a careful balance."

So, Auntie - Mand'alor - had to condemn (I think it means something like 'telling off'? But way more serious) Vau.

"What," I gulped, my throat dry (Maul said I was screaming, earlier), "What did Auntie do to Vau?"

He was screaming.

He was bleeding?

It was really dark, but I could still remember the way the shadows and fire and something else crawled. The way Vau crawled.

Maul shook my back.

Be with me, Bob'ika.

Breathe.

"Come with me, Boba."

---

We left through the way we came, but Maul led me somewhere completely different.

At shuttle pad 4, we could feel the frigid wind from the thin grate gaps, the roaring thunder rolling above. Maul tugged me forward to watch through the grate, shielding me inside his cloak.

"What are we doing here?" I attempted over the storm. Maul rubbed his hands down my arms to warm me up after I hugged myself against the cold.

"Look!" Maul pointed out to the landing pad where the bay doors opened and three figures walked out, silhouetted by the bright white lights of the Tipoca hallways. It was then that, as my eyes became used to the night's darkness and the dim pad lights, I could see the group of tall shadows standing at the shuttle entrance.

"Is that Vau? And Auntie?!" I squinted, "Who are the others?"

Vau's alive?! 

They sort of looked like troopers, the four standing with Auntie at the shuttle, but not quite. In fact, they weren't wearing armour. Vau was being escorted by two Mando's, it looked like Skirata's gold and Bralor's red.

"It's Delta, Boba."

Oh.

Oh.

We couldn't hear anything they were saying from here, but from the way Vau kneeled, it seemed like Auntie was probably condemning him. 

Vau stepped into the shuttle, his back to the Mand'alor, as the bay door closed up behind him. After about a minute, the white and blue shuttle started its engines and began to hover as two fighters came out of nowhere and hovered nearby. Vau was getting a full escort off-planet.

Auntie, Skirata, Bralor and Delta squad all watched as Vau raised further and further off of the platform. When the shuttle began to pick up speed, so did my heart-rate as Auntie began to turn away.

I could see her blazing eyes from here.

She was looking at us.

She was looking at me.

Maul sighed.

We're in trouble, now, cousin.

Chapter Text

set - after the first battle of geonosis, AoTC

date - 978ARR/22BBY

A Mandolorian contemplates war.

Jackal was sprinting through the troopers, the boy unconscious in his arms. The soldiers sidestepped and dodged the thundering titan, his straight-shot target undeterred.

"MEDIC!"

His booming echo was replied to almost immediate effect, the open doors of the Med Bay suddenly flooding with white armour dotted with red crosses. There was a stretcher even waiting for him, truly brilliant timing.

Practically screeching to a halt, the careful titan barely jostled the body in his arms. The young man's Vode were quick to receive, as the gargantuan man lowered to comparatively tiny body onto the stretcher.

There were so many injured, so many. Jackal didn't want to question how they had a spare stretcher, it didn't matter.

The blood was like a painting on blank canvas armour.

---

Qi did what he could to shadow Tundra, but even he had heavy responsibilities in such a devastating time. He did what he could for the returning boys, did what he could for the injured, the missing, and the dead. He just couldn't do enough for Tundra.

That poor woman was ready to collapse and everyone knew it but her.

The Warlock was still dancing, weaving between bodies as if it were still the battlefield. In all honesty, if Qi were to be poetic? The Med Bay was as much a battlefield as an actual warzone, just perhaps, far more tragic.

She was instructing Captains, briefing medics, tossing bandages across the room. She was racing around the room, racing, running, for what? From what?

Her children's lives on the line, of course.

Qi snarled from his shadows, as he, too, weaved through the frantic masses in the ship halls of the Venator. 

Her children's blood, my nephews and nieces lives, and for what?

A mistake. One utter, disgusting, pathetic mistake. Qi was already gathering evidence to sue.

There were Jedi in the Med Bay, too, surprisingly. Devoured into the swamp of bodies on stretchers or strung between the arms of Vode, anything, alive or dead, was dragged from that sorry, dusty hell. Jedi, that were almost left behind, that didn't make it onto the priority shuttles headed for the other Venator.

Funny, that. There were three Star Destroyers sent out, out of the current fleet of 15, only 5 were functional and prepared, and only one was dedicated to the Vode wounded. The other? Prioritised for the Jedi and the Senator, while the third hung in orbit, prepared for any surprise strike.

20,000 troopers deployed, and the battle was finally over, tactical retreat ordered.

There came a message from the Senate, an order to continue the fight.

Tundra blew up that console, and went straight back to her evacuations.

20,000 troopers, 212 Jedi, and now? 15,000 Vode and 40 Jedi, but those numbers had yet to be recalculated.

20,000 troopers, 20,000 boys. Twenty thousand children marched into battle, Qi breathed in, fifteen thousand will live to remember them, Qi breathed out.

It wasn't just a tragedy.

It was a massacre.

---

Jaster snuck off the battlefield with his son's corpse. Boba ran sullenly in tow. 

"Stay close, ner ad. Don't look, now."

The poor boy was panting, his soft curls bouncing as he nodded, the dust clinging to his face dropping at the shake of his head.

Jango's limp body was a heavy thing, Jaster groaned, Just how long did Tundra say the drug would work?

The curses that threatened to break from his cracked lips from underneath his buy'ce were replaced with Manda-filled praises, as the white and red LAAT/i appeared from around the rocks. Just as promised, Jaster slumped against a boulder as the young Vode jumped from the hovering shuttle and ran towards them.

Boba jerked as if ready to sprint towards his ori'vod'e, but he halted, his head practically shaking with how much he switched his gaze from his dead-to-the-world father and the tall echoes of his father's legacy. The choice was roughly taken from him, as a trooper power-slid towards Boba, sweeping him up in his arms, seizing the boy with a startled yelp. The poor boy began to struggle, in vain, he painfully found, as the Vod's arms were tight in their hug, as the soldier stood back up with a nod to the old Mand'alor before sprinting back for the shuttle.

Jaster carefully dropped his limp son into the waiting arms of his echoes, as two more Vode took either arm of their Progentior and carried him between them. The old JP didn't waste time in following them, jumping into the shuttle. 

The troopers were busy strapping in the Fett's, securing their aliit in the trustworthy belts of the LAAT/i, while Jaster finally took a well-earned seat, breathing out deep sighs of relief.

"Mereel? Mereel, are you ok?" A figure appeared in his HUD, "Sit Rep, Alor."

Putting a hand to the seal of his buy'ce, he coughed at the dust that met his nostrils as he lifted his beloved shield. 

"I'm good, trooper," He batted at the gloved hand aimed at the bruise on his collar. Smiling as comfortingly as he could at the fretting soldier, he pushed down the hand with a dreaded hypo, "I promise, ad, I'm clear."

The poor boy was practically shaking in his boots, but Jaster concluded it was probably more to do with the adrenaline in his hot-blooded veins. 

"Please, Alor," The crackling voice came through the T-visored white bucket, "It's protocol."

Jaster wouldn't grief the poor medic further, so he bared his neck and let the young man work.

Tundra trained her Medics well.

He didn't flinch at the hypo being shot into his exposed neck, but he was wincing at the destruction he could see through the tiny window in the blast doors of the LAAT/i.

Manda, he could not imagine her pain, not truly. But it doesn't make it any less, that he, too, raised these boys, watched these faces, these lives, these souls, grow over a thousand times. No matter how many times he did it, the first time he got to carry a precious babe right out of the lukewarm incubators, it was just as magical as the last, as he wrapped those tiny feet in soft linen and wiped the screaming faces of slimy amniotic fluid.

Only to watch them fall in droves, like cattle to the slaughterhouse.

She's going to burn them all, a single tear tracked down his filthy face, as his grandson leapt into his arms as soon as the Vod stepped back. He clung onto that soft child that carried his son's face, the two million children destined to represent Jango's legacy. Across the full shuttle, on a stiff grey stretcher with heavy straps, his son's face hauntingly pale and slack, his armour dusty and dented, he looked dead. 

We're all going to burn.

---

Even as the Venators left Geonosian aerospace, the Med Bays were hardly relaxing. Vod'e were running back and forth, hallways bustling with frantic activity, with dirt on the previously grey floors and blood splatter on the previously grey walls.

Like some sick Jackson Pollock you learn about in the Golden Age Archives.

Jackal was running back into the fray, pushing the heavy crate of much-needed medical supplies with ease. Medics and assistants alike charged towards him, ripping off the crate lids and shouting out who needs what.

The Commander stepped back, running a hand through his hair, grimacing at the sweat and dust that he could feel even through his gloves. Spinning around, he pinned down Tundra in his sights. The tall Exo was in the middle of a tourniquet on a poor boy's left thigh, where a gorily spectacular piece of grim shrapnel was deeply embedded, after she tore apart the shiny plastoid armour with her bare hands. The boy was unconscious, his head lolling with his eyes rolled back, as another Vod shot up the side of his pale neck with a hypo. 

"Shit," the Titan made his way over, dodging the frantic soldiers. 

Jumping in to help, he washed his hands and snapped on gloves. Tundra barely registered him as the two fell into familiar practise. 

"Scalpel," and Jackal would fish out the desired razor-sharp knife, her favourite blade length of 3.7 cm.

"Clean," and Jackal would be there with non-woven buds, blotting out the pools of blood in her work space.

"12 gauge and a tube," Jackal would find that goddamn 12 gauge if it was the last thing he did. This boy would not be bleeding out under their watch.

The makeshift stint from connecting his severed artery was rudimentary at best, the work gory like a butcher's shop at worst, but as long as that tube stayed in, the Vod's leg would live to see another day. Tundra smacked a bright orange sticker on his blanched cheek, the bright mesh impossible to miss. The Medic, Kad'e, nodded at the Mand'alor, keeping his hand on his Vod's leg, as two more troopers stepped out of the fray and began to cart the almost crashing Vod towards the OR. 

Tundra's gaze followed the hover bed even as it disappeared beyond the doors. With a sharp inhale she turned around and almost sped back into the frantic Med Bay, if it weren't for the sudden hand on her shoulder.

Seizing the wrist, she spun and slammed the heavily armoured man into the wall, and he let her.

"There is work to be done," she hissed, her eyes flaring as her audials twitched at the sounds of screams, "Do not stop me, Jackal."

The man held up his hands, a universal surrender, as he tried to address the fierce creature as carefully as he could.

"That isn't my call, Tundra," he jerked his head in the direction of herself, "Look at your hands - You could kill someone if you're not careful."

And there, lo and behold, were not just shaking hands that could slip a blade at the worst moment, but tendrils of vicious blue, lightning across her fingertips. She glared, at herself, at her own inability to hold herself together.

"One wrong move," Jackal murmured lowly, moving her dangerous hands away from his collar, his eyes never leaving hers, "One breath, T, you know that's all it takes. Fry a vein, hell, fry a whole goddamn ventilator. Step down, Tundra."

 The Exo hissed at his demand, but as her fingers audibly crackled, she stopped short and just looked. Closing her eyes, her infamous resolve regrew as she took in deep and forceful breaths. Jackal was so proud of her strength, but truly? It could not be at a worse time.

Her family, her children, they were dying all around her. 

She deserved to cry, she deserved to scream, but she couldn't, not now, not yet. Their work was not over, they still had Vod'e to stabilise and troopers to support. There was simply no possibility of a breakdown right now, absolutely impossible.

The crackles died down as he held her hands in his large palms, he watched those impregnable defenses pull up in her figure right before his very eyes. Tundra no longer stood before him, but a Mand'alor. As she pulled her hands from his, she turned around and marched towards the next critical bed and returned to work. She was going to save their lives, even if it took everything out of her. 

Sometimes Tundra, sometimes Mand'alor, always a mother.

Jackal sighed, but he knew he could do no more. 

He only prayed for what would happen when this was all over.

---

The next few cycles on the brand new Venators were tense and many Vod'e were very touch-and-go.

Tundra had completely intercepted any and all communications coming in from the Emergency Action Senate orders. Rather than leaving all three Star Destroyers in the Geonosian system to mount full-scale attack, Tundra had turned the two Venators full of wounded right around and jumped to hyperspace as fast as possible, while the third that had remained in orbit had strict orders of 'Do not fire unless fired upon first' and to attempt full-scale rescue operations, instead.

The Mand'alor Jai'galaar be Mav did not give two flying fucks what the bureaucrats were calling for from lightyears across the Galaxy. 

Her lawyers were already on their way to Geonosis, if only to fix this clusterfuck from Mand'yaim's side. Fuck the Senate - they can fix their own goddamn mistakes. 

Speaking of, the Jedi occupied Venator was at least one parsec ahead of them. For the three Jedi that ended up on their Star Destroyer, Qi was already with them, calming them down from their Force-exhausted states, not helping by the fact that they were on a ship full of Mandalorians.

She would visit them later - Kit was in her ship.

For now, she tried not to growl at the lingering figure in the doorway of the communications center. It was obvious it was Jackal, considering the hub was empty of every officer but her.

"Cease your shadowing, Jackal," She hissed out from where she stood at the holotable, "I am perfectly in control."

The leaning Titan just scoffed and walked into the hub, grabbing a datapad, himself. 

"You haven't even gone to see your own dad, yet, T. If I don't help you finish your stupid reports, you would never leave unless you were called."

Tundra leaned against the holotable and slumped, a deep sigh exhaling as she hung her head. She glances to her left as Jackal steps closer to her. She can't even deny it because he's not wrong.

"I'm gonna drag Qi and any troopers that wanna help into your office and barricade you from it," he lays a hand on her dusty-robed back and rubs her shoulders, laying a rough kiss to her warm metal temple. She closes her eyes and tries her best to untense her shoulders, fire and dust floating in a haze of her minds' eye. Jackal steps away and ganders out of the communications suite with a lazy salute in her direction, "You go find your dad and get a big hug, then I'm dragging you away for a nap. I'll make Andal do it, you sneak."

Tundra watches him leave with dim eyes. The warmth of Radiance flashes over her body from Andal in an effort to comfort her and she cannot help her gratitude for the other half of her soul. She takes a deep breath and straightens up.

The war has only begun.

-