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The spaceship landing in the middle of one of their fights was…unexpected, as was the way it shot down the remaining Elders till only blood and smoke were left.
Obi-Wan signalled for the others to fall back, all of them long-used to camouflaging themselves amongst rock, not that it would help if the ship could track heat signals. It wasn’t shiny and sleek like the starships the Jedi had favoured, and there was a craggy red emblem with 3 spires painted on its side. It wasn’t one he recognised.
Then the ramp descended, and a Mandalorian stepped out.
“Ad’e!” they crowed, a blaster in hand and- Obi-Wan’s breath caught. They had a lightsaber. Why did they have a lightsaber? Were they Jedi? But the blaster and indiscriminate murder, even if it had been of Elders - none of that added up.
Obi-Wan poked his head out, ignoring Nield’s furious hissing at him.
“Ad’e!” the Mandalorian said again, voice trembling with feeling, and-. Obi-Wan pressed his lips together tightly. He knew what religious fervour felt like, and every subsequent time never felt better than the last. Still, the Force urged him forward, cautious, curious.
The Mandalorian was continuing to speak, but Obi-Wan literally had no clue of the words that were spilling from his mouth: Mandalorian language had been less important to the Jedi than their bloody history. The lightsaber at their belt, though, was singing to him.
It was a song of separation, of grief, of solitude and loneliness. It was a song Obi-Wan knew well.
Then the lightsaber’s song changed: to one of warning.
Obi-Wan glanced up sharply at the Mandalorian, who was still going on strong in their tirade. Obi could feel their bloodlust surging as they spoke, their oily fanaticism and putrid glee growing as he drew inexorably closer. The lightsaber had been with Mandalorians for aeons; it knew every last weakness in their armour. But the Mandalorian was still an adult grown, and Obi-Wan hadn’t handled a lightsaber in years - he would only have a single chance at this.
He stopped, just out of arm’s reach. He could tell some of the watching Young had started to emerge, caution and curiosity on their faces, and that just made the Mandalorian ooze smug satisfaction.
Yeah, kriff that.
The lightsaber’s blade was already turning on when its hilt smacked into his palm. Obi-Wan cleaved straight through the arm holding the blaster and then went for their legs, sending the Mandalorian crashing down to their knees in front of him.
At the perfect height for him to take their head.
The Young were yelling, leaping out of their hiding spaces, but Obi-Wan stayed still and silent, watching for a moment longer to make absolutely sure the Mandalorian was dead. He only relaxed when the Force nudged him, turning to study the lightsaber.
He’d never seen a blade like this before, thin and black and limned with white.
Its song had changed into one of vindication and Obi-Wan couldn’t help rolling his eyes, turning off its blade just in time for Nield to barrel into him, lifting him straight off his feet.
“You insane karker!” Nield was screeching. “What the kark was that?”
Obi-Wan huffed at being hauled around like a tooka, but Nield didn’t seem like he would let him down any time soon.
“They were a fanatic,” he said. The Young within earshot stiffened at that. “And they felt gross. They would have taken us away, but I think they wanted us to fight for their cause, too.”
“They killed those Elders,” Rod said uncertainly, coughing delicately.
Rizzo tucked her close, a grumpy look on her face. “Don’t think they did it for us,” she said gruffly.
Cerasi stepped forward, putting a hand on Nield’s shoulder. With a huff, the older boy dropped him, and Obi-Wan looked at her, grateful.
“I didn’t understand what they was saying,” she said. “Did you?”
Obi shook his head. “We aren’t taught Mandalorian.”
Nield huffed again. “Well, we’ve all heard stories about adults who want to take children away.”
Cerasi wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, gross,” she agreed. “I guess it worked out, Obi. And now we have a spaceship, I guess?”
Leezal had already crept inside to poke around, emerging only to let out a low whistle.
“We now also have enough firepower to blow all the Elders to kingdom come,” he announced with a wide grin. “I have no idea what this karker was thinking, packing so much heat, but it’s ours, now, too!”
Cerasi looked at Obi-Wan with a rare light in her eyes. “Do you still remember how to fly a spaceship?”
“Do I ever.”
“So, what’s going on with the lightsaber?” Cerasi asked, after the last Elder stronghold was a smoking wreck behind them. They would still have to clear the wreckage, but this was the first time in months that they’d felt more than a glimmer of hope.
Obi-Wan glanced down at his waist, where he’d looped a cord around its hilt and attached it to his belt-loops. It was nothing like the elegant clips he’d once worn and that the Quartermaster had dispensed so carelessly, but it was singing its satisfaction against his hip, content to wait for a thorough cleaning now that it was out of the Mandalorian’s hands. It really hadn’t like them.
“It hadn’t liked the Mandalorian,” he replied with a shrug. “I think I’m the first Force-sensitive it’s met in years.”
He blinked as the lightsaber corrected him.
“In centuries.” He stared down at it. “Really?”
Peering around from Cerasi’s other side, Nield gave the lightsaber a leery look. “Is it, like, alive? You’re talking about it like it is.”
Obi-Wan smiled, patting its hilt fondly. “Not alive as we understand it, but aware. Jedi bond with their kyber crystals when they build their lightsabers; it’s not far from the truth to call our lightsabers our lives.”
Cerasi looked horrified. “Jinn took yours with him.”
He summoned up a pale smile. “It was just a training ‘saber, not a-.” His mouth snapped shut at the mental jolt, very nearly biting the tip of his tongue.
“Obi-Wan?” Nield asked cautiously.
“The lightsaber,” he replied, frowning down at it. “It’s also very opinionated.”
“It talks?” Cerasi exclaimed.
“Not in words, so much, but impressions and feelings,” he said.
Nield’s grumpy expression told him his choice of words were hardly persuasive, but Obi-Wan didn’t know how else to phrase it.
“It sounds irritating.”
Obi-Wan snorted before he could help himself, patting the hilt as it thrummed with annoyance.
“It’s fine,” he said to both Nield and the lightsaber. “We’re learning each other, and-.” He paused, giving himself another moment to savour the feel of a lightsaber once more by his side, its crystal thrumming in time with his own heart.
“And?” Cerasi asked, her expression open and curious.
“I think it brings me as much comfort as much as I bring it.”
“It needs comfort too?” she asked, sounding confused.
He smiled at her. “You could say that lightsabers were made for us- or we made them for us, but their songs sing a harmony with our souls. Not everyone, obviously, or we would have shared our lightsabers with each other willy-nilly.”
He didn’t speak of how Garen had juggled their lightsabers for a lark, how Siri had started learning Jar Kai with his blade and hers. He hoped Bant had unbent enough to lend her her own ‘saber in his absence, and tried not to think about never seeing his friends again.
“Each crystal has their own song, and everyone’s soul is different. A crystal can sing all it wants,” he concluded, his smile turning wry, “but not everyone can listen.”
The lightsaber told him quite firmly that the Mandalorian had not listened. No one had listened in centuries. It sounded painfully lonely, to him.
Cerasi sent Nield a puzzled glance.
“Look, I won’t pretend to know all about them songs and souls,” the older boy muttered, “but as long as it isn’t hurting you, and you’re happy. Oof! You’re both happy,” he amended, when Cerasi elbowed him in the ribs.
Obi-Wan laughed at them, unexpected allies and even better friends.
“Thank you,” he replied. “We are.”
The Mandalorian hadn’t only brought explosives and ammunition in their ship.
There were still old fuel lines in some of the Elder cities, and Obi-Wan had to do some quick flying with Leezal to shut off the majority of them and identify one city they would use as their refuelling station. Amid the rubble of Zehava, they uncovered some speeder bikes that were mostly intact, but none of the Young knew the mechanics of driving one. Obi-Wan would have to spare the time to change that.
Leezal might have been in-charge of the Young’s inventory up to this point, but his family had also owned several mechanic shops, and he’d grown up among metalworking and their tools all his short life. His family’s services had been in quite high demand with the Daan, to whom they had given their allegiance - at least until Melida had sent suicide bombers to their shop locations. Leezal had only survived the bombs by being at school at the time. His Babby sibling, not yet weaned, hadn’t been so lucky.
It was under Leezal’s watchful eye and with his half-remembered knowledge that Obi-Wan and Nield started melting down scrap to make smaller, handier tools. Obi-Wan could use the Force to safely manipulate the molten metal, and Nield was the biggest and strongest of them all, made bigger and stronger by all the metal he was hauling around for them. It wasn't his interest, though, and they only had use of him for as long as it took Leezal to knock out some farm tools and then Nield was off, to start un-fallowing some fields.
Leezal and he fixed up a couple of the speeder bikes together, and then Obi-Wan took Khiyosh on rounds to the remains of the hospitals and clinics they’d marked out on the city maps, raiding them for every last bit of medication and bandages they could carry. Rod’s cough had started to improve, with the fresh air and regular food, but there were the amputees to contend with, and figuring out what options they had for physical therapy and prosthetics.
Even while Rod was under strict instructions to rest and heal, she and another injured Young, Pohl, started going through the Elders’ records for any loose threads to tie up, and began crafting lesson plans for the future.
Caught up in the business of recovering, rebuilding, and terraforming, the day the Mandalorian’s radio clicked to life caught them all off-guard.
Between him and Leezal, they’d disabled nearly all of the starship’s combative functions and stripped it of its ammunition, leaving its shell as a playground for the Babbies. They had no need for interplanetary travel, anyway, and the Babbies loved crawling through the vents and clambering up and down the bunk beds.
None of them were expecting 2 Babbies to come tearing out of the ship, its comm unit hoisted overhead.
“Obiobi-Leelee!” they squealed, thrusting it at them. “It made a sound! It made a sound!”
Obi-Wan frowned down at where his hands were coated in engine grease. Leezal made an irritated noise and took the comm, clicking it on. The Babbies beat a steady clip towards the farmhouse the Young had claimed for themselves instead of the ship; they were going for Cerasi and Nield.
Good.
“What?” Leezal snapped.
“...Pre?”
“Pray?” Leezal sputtered, but Rizzo was already leaning forward, eyes intent. She’d been outside with them, getting some sun with Rod - Khiyosh had read that fresh air and sunlight would do the younger girl some good.
“Did you send that religious creep here?” she demanded.
“Religious?” the other voice on the line exclaimed.
“They were religious, alright,” Obi-Wan muttered, remembering the Mandalorian’s fanatic zeal. “Wanting to convert us-.”
“Well, I think he wanted us to blow ourselves up,” Leezal spat out. “You don’t approach Young with that much firepower unless you’ve got something to prove.”
Suffice to say, Leezal had not forgotten the suicide bombers that had killed his family.
“Did he try to attack you?” another voice demanded, sounding frantic. “Are any of you hurt? We can send aid to this location-.”
Obi-Wan’s head snapped around, meeting Rizzo’s expression of utter rage. There were trackers in the ship.
“You can take your Mandalorian poodoo and stuff it where the sun doesn’t shine,” he declared. “We don’t need more trouble.”
“We don’t mean to offend, ad’ika,” that same voice coaxed, and it sounded like there was a scuffle going on behind them, and some words that sounded like, “Myles, don’t you dar-!”
“The man who approached you, whose ship you are currently in possession of - he was a bad man to his own people, too. There are a lot of Mando’ad who would like confirmation that he’s dead, once and for all.”
“We burnt the body and melted down his armour,” Obi-Wan said flatly.
“Melted down-!” someone squawked, but the calming voice took possession of the comm again.
“I see, ad’ika,” they said.
“What’s adika?” Rod asked, sitting up from where she’d been lying against Rizzo.
“Oh!” the voice exclaimed, sounding, bizarrely enough, delighted. “It’s a nickname given to children, which is what I believe you are? Only, you call yourselves young, and your voices sound quite-.”
“Don’t mistake it for weakness,” Rizzo growled out.
“I would never, ad’ika,” and they sounded…almost…proud? But that couldn’t be right, this voice didn’t even know them. “I’m certain every one of you is as remarkable as you sound.”
Obi-Wan glanced around him, and every one of his fellow Young looked just as bewildered as he felt.
“...the Mandalorian is dead,” he eventually said. “So what do you want?”
“Before you disposed of Pre’s body,” the voice asked, not even bothering to hide their vindictiveness, “did you happen to find a kad’au hilt with him? It is called the Darksaber in Basic.”
Obi-Wan went still, painfully conscious of its weight on his belt, swinging idly from a clip he’d fashioned from the Mandalorian’s own armour, under Leezal’s instruction.
“What about it?” Rod asked, after it became clear no one else would speak.
“The Darksaber- the dha’kad’au - is a Mando’ad symbol of leadership-.”
“No,” Obi-Wan snapped out, “absolutely not. It’s done with Mandalorians, especially since none of you know how to use a cleaning kit! Do you know how long it took to scrub out the rust?”
The Young were all staring at him as if he’d grown an extra head. Obi-Wan looked down at his waist - and then groaned.
“Well, I suppose that answers that question,” Leezal muttered, only to grunt when Rizzo and Rod socked him in the shoulder.
“...so you do have it,” the voice said, sounding just as bemused as he felt. Footsteps made him look up, only to see Cerasi and Nield running over, each carrying one of the Babbies with them.
“Look, ad’ika, we did not mean to get you involved in an internal matter. When Pre was cornered - if he had been honourable, he should never have tried to involve an external party, least of all ad’e.”
“If he were honourable, he would have- oof.”
“Jan’ika, kuur, gedet’ye, the adults are talking.”
Rod burst out giggling before she could cover her mouth with her hands. Cerasi and Nield had arrived within earshot, and Obi-Wan could see how Nield was trying to hold onto his anger, but he mostly looked confused at Rod's laughter.
“Would it be possible to discuss this in-person, ad’ika?” the calm voice asked.
Rizzo signed ‘location compromised’ at Cerasi, causing a flash of fear across her face.
“We need to discuss this,” Obi-Wan said shortly.
“Of course,” they agreed. “Could we expect a reply within the next revolution or 2?”
“What’s to stop you from coming, anyway, even if we say no?” Rizzo challenged, ignoring the frightened squeak Rod let out at her words.
“Ad’ika…” The voice sounded hurt, of all things. “You do not know our Ways, and I am sorry that your only introduction to Mando’ad has been that hut’uun, Pre. But I swear, by ka’ra, by Manda, and by ner ‘Alor if I must, that we mean you no harm. You are civilian ad’e that Pre had no right in dragging into our conflict.”
“What’s to say you won’t drag us in, too?” Obi-Wan challenged, swallowing back the hysterical laughter that threatened to rear its ugly head as he thought of himself as a civilian. A civilian!
“Kyr’tsad - Pre’s faction - is dead and gone; he was the last member,” came the reply. “We only want to be certain that he’s dead, too; that hut’uun has managed to schutta out of the way too many times for us to take it for granted.”
“And I told you,” he bit out, “that we burnt his body and spaced the ash.” Along with every other Elder body they found, once-family and past-foe.
“Please, ad’ika, gedet'ye,” the voice begged quietly. “Just my partner and I.”
He looked at Cerasi and Nield uncertainly. “We need to discuss this,” he repeated.
“Of course, ad’ika.”
“And you’ll accept it?” Leezal demanded. “Whatever our decision is?”
“Yes,” the voice promised, “you have my word as Riduur’alor, second-in-command of the Haat Mando’ad. The True Mandalorians,” they belatedly added. “We will not force ourselves on the unwilling; this is the Way.”
“This is the Way,” that other voice begrudgingly muttered in the background, barely audible.
Leezal frowned and mouthed, ‘Cult?’, at him. Obi-Wan could only shrug.
“In 2 revolutions, then,” Cerasi declared. “We’ll comm you back at this ID.” She nodded sharply, and Leezal clicked off the unit.
“Get the rest of the Babbies out of the ship,” he ordered. “Obi and I are going to tear it apart.”
“What?” Nield frowned.
“There’s a tracker in there somewhere that we missed,” Obi-Wan growled. “We won’t let ourselves be caught off-guard again.” He offered him and Cerasi a strained smile. “In the meantime, you can get started on that discussion you promised the Mandalorians.”
“Discuss-!” Nield sputtered. “I thought that was just a line of poodoo you fed them to get them off our backs!”
He glanced at Rod and Rizzo. “You were here for the whole thing,” he said. “Tell ‘em your impression, and then you can decide. In the meantime-.”
Leezal flung a rag at him. Obi-Wan wiped his hands off as he stood, stalking after Leezal.
“We got ourselves a ship to tear apart.”
The Young argued for 2 straight days. Maybe he wouldn’t have thought 40-odd children, the majority of them under the age of 10, would have been able to make so much noise, but he’d grown up in the creche and knew that to be a lie.
Obi-Wan stayed silent for a lot of it despite Nield, Rizzo, and Leezal trying to drag him onto their sides, hiding behind the Babbies in his lap when Cerasi sent him pleading glances. The 2 that had heard the radio in the ship were named Havla and Cy’Baoth, both of them bright-eyed and eager for new adventures.
They had bold hearts and courageous spirits, and Obi-Wan was grateful that the war hadn’t broken that.
“Do you really want to know who was on the other side of the comm?” he whispered to them during a lull in the shouting.
“Yeah,” Havla huffed while Cy’Baoth just nodded furiously, sucking their thumb with equal fervour.
“Shimy,” they slurred through their thumb.
“Shiny,” Havla agreed. “Learning s’good, right? S’what Rod and Pohl’re always saying.”
“Not all the things one learns may turn out good,” he commented.
“S’not all goo’,” Cy’Baoth agreed, gnawing on their thumb.
“Will it be badder than before?” Havla asked, with all innocence. Obi-Wan genuinely didn’t know how to answer.
“Wha’s y’magic say?” Cy’Baoth asked.
“Well,” he fumbled, “you know my lightsaber is-.”
“Oh, I think we all know your lightsaber’s feelings on the matter,” Leezal drawled out, and the laughter that broke out at that softened the rising tension. “I don’t think that was Cy’Baoth’s question.”
“Regardless,” he insisted, “we still only count as one vote.”
The arguing continued around him and the Darksaber's grumbling continued in his head, and Obi-Wan tried to relax as much as he could with 2 such effective heaters dozing in his lap.
Then a thought occurred to him.
“Um," he started, raising a hand while taking care not to jostle either Babby.
Khiyosh groaned. "I hate that tone. What is it this time?"
Obi-Wan didn't think that was entirely fair, but spoke out. "Something you ought to know beforehand is that Mandalorians and Jedi have history.”
Nield let out an infuriated hiss. “And you couldn’t have said that 2 days ago to save us all this time?” he demanded. “Obi-Wan, I swear, if this is another one of your nuna-brained schemes to sacri-!”
“Nield,” Cerasi said loudly, “I don’t think that’s what Obi meant.” She turned to stare at him, eyes large and reproachful. “Is it?”
He winced. “No-o,” he mumbled out, huddling behind the Babbies. “Sorry, I forgot about it till just then, and I just thought you should know.”
“The Mandalorians and the Jedi have history,” Rod thought aloud. “But you’re not Jedi, not anymore.”
He could smile at the words now and even feel grateful for them.
Then Rizzo smirked. “Your past is Young business now, Obi,” she said. “If anything weird ever happens, it’s not ‘cause of the Force - it’s ‘cause of your magic.”
Obi-Wan slapped a hand over his face, startling the Babbies awake. “Oh, by the Force.”
He could practically hear Rizzo’s smirk grow. “Yeah, it’s stuff like that you gotta get a handle on.”
“Obi magic?” Cy’Baoth asked.
“You can’t even flinch when we call it that,” Cerasi said, almost apologetically. “It’ll have to sound natural, not only from us, but to you, too.”
He peeked through his fingers and- yeah, she was smiling, just like the rest of those turncoats.
“Is it too late to take that vote back?”
Cerasi was the only one kind enough not to laugh in his face.
In the end, Cerasi gave the Mandalorians leave to come. The lighter voice, Myles, volunteered to be there that very afternoon.
Nield shrugged, apparently resigned to his fate. “It’ll be like ripping off a bandage.” In their 2 days of squabbling, they’d also discussed defensive manoeuvres and ambush locations. They hadn't been this heavily armed since taking out the last Elder stronghold.
Cerasi gave the Mandalorians the coordinates of one of their primary ambush locations and signed off immediately after having them swear that only the 2 of them would be arriving.
The Mandalorians might have their heat-seeking technology, but the Young had the sewers. They knew every entry and exit point in this area, where the tunnels intersected and separated, the different levels, the various routes.
Cerasi and Rod were coordinating over short-wave radio from several levels down, on a frequency Leezal had secured for this. Rod because she knew this area like the back of her hand, just like Rizzo; Cerasi because she was their leader, their heart, and most importantly, a terrible shot.
Rizzo and he would address the Mandalorians, because Nield didn’t have a single diplomatic bone in his body. Obi-Wan would feel worse about it, if Nield weren’t so kriffing proud of that fact.
“You’re a Leader of the Young,” he’d threatened the older boy with earlier, “you’re going to have to learn sometime.”
Cerasi had only winced. “He can learn when the stakes aren’t quite this high.”
Rizzo had raised her hand. “Can I-?”
“Absolutely not,” Rod retorted, not even looking up from the topographical maps she was studying. “You ain’t rude, you jus’ got a trigger finger.”
“I’m sure most places don’t count blasting someone as good manners,” Rizzo had muttered.
“If we’re all comparing now,” Obi-Wan said snidely, “then I’m the worst, since I barely exchanged 2 words with our last esteemed visitor before I lopped off his head.”
Rod just shook her head. “Yeah, I don’t understand how our mouthiest karker be our politest karker, too.”
So it was just Rizzo and him standing out in the open as the Mandalorians landed their ship, Nield and Khiyosh as their visible back-up. Nield was as intimidating as Young got, and Khiyosh was their medic.
Pohl, Leezal, and Metzizi would get into place after the Mandalorians had landed, keeping them in their sights.
“If you lop both their heads off,” Rizzo wheedled, “it’d save us the saliva.”
Obi-Wan snorted. “Unfortunately, they both feel quite sane.” He frowned. “I say both, but one of them is quite hard to get a feel for.” His frown deepened. “The Darksaber says it’s because they're wearing beskar.”
Nield swore. “Do we have armour-piercing rounds or we gonna hafta find out how many blasts it’s gonna take to get through beskar?”
“Try slug throwers,” he suggested. “One of them threw off liquid slag, didn’t it? Or a flamethrower. Beskar will conduct heat, same as any other metal.”
Khiyosh grimaced. “That’s gross, Obi.”
“Yeah,” Rizzo agreed, “in that case, it’d be a kindness to lop off their head.”
“Still want me to greet ‘em?” he asked, only half-joking.
“No time for otherwise, now,” Khiyosh growled. “Heads up - their ramp’re lowering.”
As agreed, only 2 Mandalorians stepped forward. The one mind he could feel was excited, nervous, and jittery all at the same time, while the other mind whispered of caution and reserve.
“Su cuy’gar, ad’ike,” the excited mind called out, raising their gauntleted hands. “I’m removing my helmet,” they said in warning, and then removed their helmet to clip it to their belt, exactly as they said. They looked Human, with pale skin, dark eyes, and dark mussed hair. They smiled brightly when their eyes met, although their eyes ticked sharply over their forms, clearly cataloguing everything they saw.
“I’m Myles,” they volunteered cheerfully.
Rizzo nodded. “Y’voice sounds th’ same.”
Myles’s smile softened. “As mentioned, I am Riduur’alor, spouse and second to this one,” they said, jerking their thumb at their partner, “Jango Fett, Mand’alor.”
The Mandalor. Even if Obi-Wan had known this was coming, it still sent a frisson of fear down his spine.
“First of all,” Myles began, “ni ceta, ad’ike. Outsiders, much less ad’e should never have been involved. Pre had no right-!”
The Mandalor, Fett, grimly shook their head. “Pre was ad be’hut’uun, demagolka. His actions don’t surprise me at all.”
“That’s all very well and good,” Obi-Wan drawled, “but you’re not here to hash out past misdeeds.”
Myles glanced his way, eyes alight with amusement. “Of course, ad’ika. We’re here to discuss the remuneration Mando'ad can offer as compensation for Pre's actions."
He and Rizzo exchanged a startled look.
“...or not?” Myles asked, head cocked curiously. “It is well within your right to make such demands of us, ad’ike.” They paused. “What do you want, then?"
“For you to go away and never come back again,” Rizzo said bluntly. Obi-Wan hid a wince, but didn’t try to override her words.
“We have enough of our own internal matters to sort out,” he added. “We’d rather not sort out yours, on top of it.”
Myles and Fett exchanged a look, and Obi-Wan’s stomach turned with the wry twist on Myles’s lips.
“What is it?” he demanded.
“That we could, ad’ike,” Myles sighed, running a hand through their hair, mussing it even more. “You see, the dha’kad’au, the Darksaber - to bear it to is to be Mand'alor."
Rizzo frowned, pointing at Fett. “But you called ‘em ‘Mandalor’.”
Myles laughed, reaching out to pat Fett on the shoulder. “Jango is ner Mand’alor, leader of the Haat Mando’ad, the True Mandalorians. We seek to bring peace to Manda'yaim, and we drew so very close when Pre fled the battlefield like the hut'uun he is. Or was," they corrected, with a fanged smile.
Rizzo cocked her head. “So we did you a favour?”
Myles laughed again, bending over slightly. Fett threw up their hands, and out of the corner of his eye, Obi-Wan saw Nield tense, but he could tell that Fett was more exasperated by Myles’s behaviour than anything else. Well, that was Fett’s own fault, for bringing Myles here in the first place.
“Out of the mouth of ikaad’e, and by the hands of ad’e,” the bare-faced man declared. “Elek, ad’e, you did what many of our best verd’e could not. With Pre's death, there is a very real chance that the fighting on Manda’yaim could finally end, and we can be a people again, not warriors." They shook their head. "Even Mando'ad can get tired of fighting."
Nield looked aside sharply, mouth pulling downwards; that was a sentiment every one of the Young knew well. It would’ve been so much easier if they had nothing in common with the Mandalorians, but of course that would have made things too easy.
“If you would permit us, we would take back parts of Pre’s armour as proof of death. I know you said you melted it down, but if there was any of it left, that bore defining features-.”
Rizzo and he stared at each other.
“You know better, working with Leezal and all,” she muttered, nudging him.
Obi-Wan winced, glancing up to find both Myles’s and Fett’s attention on him.
“Uh- we needed metal, so we melted most of his armour down. I think part of it is in a number of hoes and a wheelbarrow.”
The Mandalorians continued to stare for a long moment. And then-
Myles threw their head back and cackled.
Rizzo sighed. “Why’m I not surprised that one’s laughing again?”
Fett let out an equally resigned sigh, not appearing to mind that Myles was clinging to their shoulders to keep from falling over with laughter. “That’s his default reaction to almost everything.”
Obi-Wan shrugged. Sounded about right, from what little he’d seen of Myles.
“I need to laugh on your behalf, too, ner ori, kotep, Mand’alor,” Myles wheezed through his chuckles.
“What did you call ‘em?” Rizzo asked suspiciously.
Fett looked away, but Obi-Wan thought they were embarrassed.
“Ner ori, kotep, Mand’alor,” Myles said again through his snickers, slapping his gauntlet on Fett’s chest. “My big, brave Mandalor.”
Rizzo frowned. “You flirting with ‘em?” she demanded.
Fett made a noise, but Myles just started laughing again. Obi-Wan cocked his head, stuying them curiously. "He did mention that you were married. Recently?"
"It's been years,” Fett muttered. “We’re getting sidetracked.”
“Ka’ra,” Myles snickered, “I can’t even remember where we were before this.”
Fett glowered at him. “You were the one who pitched us off-course."
“You started laughing when I told you we’d melted down Pre’s armour,” Obi-Wan prompted.
Myles started laughing again, because of course he did.
Fett only sighed. “In some ways, it’s ironic. Pre and Kyr’tsad valued only a verd’s strength - a warrior’s fighting ability.”
Obi-Wan exchanged a dubious look with Rizzo. Like Khiyosh and Metzizi would ever let them forget how they and their team had literally held them together through some of their worst times. Like he hadn’t spent hours upon hours with Leezal, sorting through their inventory and squeezing every last drop from their limited supplies so that their own could survive another day. And even after Rod's cough grew too severe for her to continue scouting and Pohl's legs never healed right after such a bad break, they took the Babbies under their wing and, most importantly, kept their spirits up.
Being able to shoot someone in the head certainly helped you survive, but the Young wanted more than that - they wanted to live.
“That’s dumb,” was all Rizzo said in the end.
Fett’s voice was bone-dry. “That's Manda's own truth,” they agreed.
Obi-Wan tried to think back to cracking open Pre from his armour like a crab. “There were some parts that we couldn’t melt down,” he recalled. “Bits of his helmet and a part of his chest piece. Think that would work?"
Myles’s face gentled as his expression grew serious, raising his fist across his chest. “We would appreciate that very much, ad’ika, vor entye.”
“That’s it?” Rizzo asked cautiously.
“There is, unfortunately, still the matter of the dha’kad’au-.”
“No,” Obi-Wan said flatly, covering its hilt protectively with his hand. He'd been impressed that their eyes had barely even strayed to where he was openly wearing the Darksaber on his hip, the dratted thing having refused to be hidden, but-. “It certainly doesn’t want to go back with you and it was never meant to be a sign of your leader like that. Or if it was, you’d think you’d learn to clean it better.”
Myles looked startled. “How do you know that, ad’ika?”
Oh, poodoo.
“It talks a lot. And very loudly,” he said without context.
Myles’s eyebrows were climbing higher. “It talks to you?”
“I listen,” he retorted, flexing his fingers to keep from doing something silly, like drawing it.
“Are you Manda-touched, ad’ika?” Fett asked.
“No one’s doing any touching!” Rizzo exclaimed.
Fett raised their hands in alarm. “Nayc, naak, ad’ika, that wasn’t what I meant at all. Manda-touched is- a good thing. Manda is ner- Mando’ad have no religion, no god, but Manda is the spirit that watches over us all.”
“That’s…not creepy at all,” he muttered.
"You don't have room to talk, s’like your magic,” Rizzo said, nudging him with her elbow.
Well, that was one way to rip the bandage off.
Obi-Wan shrugged, purposefully casual. “I know things I can’t explain sometimes. I hear some things, too.”
“Like the dha’kad’au,” Myles murmured, watching him with appraising eyes, but there was no anger or offence in his expression, just an open curiosity.
Fett sighed again. “Look, ad’ika, we’d really appreciate it if you could-.”
“No.”
“But-?”
“No.”
“Well, that went surprisingly well,” he said after the Mandalorians had left with what scraps they could scrounge of Pre’s armour. They'd also extended a bizarrely sincere apology after offering them the contents of their medbay, which Khiyosh had practically leapt at.
Obi-Wan flopped backwards, hissing when the Darksaber jarred his hip and send numbness shooting down one leg. He unclipped it and set it to floating overhead, unable to not smile at its contentment at being touched with the Force once more. And then Rizzo flung herself at him, thumping heavily on his stomach as he groaned, but the levitating Darksaber above them never once wavered.
He heard Cerasi’s laughter before she skidded to a halt right beside them and piled on, followed by Khiyosh and Nield.
“I swear, my heart stopped beating when Rizzo mentioned your magic!” Cerasi exclaimed, nearly slapping Nield in the face with her flailing hands.
“You’re telling me,” he muttered, the Darksaber still lazily spinning above.
“But it went okay, right?” Rizzo asked, needling his belly with her sharp chin.
“Ow, Riz,” he grunted, “get your bones away from me.”
Cerasi laughed, pulling the smaller girl into her arms. “It could’ve gone so badly,” she whispered.
“But it didn’t,” Nield said, tucking himself up behind her. “I think that’s the best it could’ve gone.”
“Is that optimism I hear?” Khiyosh drawled. “Report to my medbay right now, Nield; there's something wrong with your head."
“Hardee-har-har,” Nield muttered as they laughed, and Obi-Wan could practically hear him rolling his eyes. “Think you’re funny, do you?”
“I’m a regular comedian,” Khiyosh snickered. “Gotta keep my patients entertained, don’t I?”
“That’s one reason to stay outta of your medbay,” Nield muttered.
“If it works, it works,” Khiyosh shrugged.
Approaching footsteps had him craning his neck to look. Pohl was slowly making her way over with Leezal’s help, and Rod waved when she noticed him noticing. Metzizi wasn’t with them, but Obi-Wan knew the younger girl needed time on her own to come back to herself, and then she'd be right back in the thick of things.
Not all of the Young took to fighting well, their competency born out of necessity, and Obi-Wan was just relieved that now, the Babbies wouldn’t even have to try.
“Lookit you,” Rod said, “all ‘em leaders, like a heap of sitting convors.”
“It’s over, Rod,” he said, offering her a smile. “It’s finally, finally over.”
They had a week of peaceful rebuilding, Nield almost gleeful about using his Pre-hoes and Pre-wheelbarrow to mark out what would be the first of hopefully many, Melidaan fields. The Darksaber was reluctant, at the start, to clear the overgrowth from potential farmland, but even it couldn’t deny the Babbies the joy of tripping over themselves to be the first to play on the freshly bared grounds.
Cerasi took Rod and Pohl to what remained of the Halls of Evidence, to compile what they could of Melida and Daan’s histories.
“It’s written by the victors,” Pohl said softly, “I know, but we shouldn’t forget how we got to this point and what led us here in the first place.”
“Can’t repeat it,” Rod agreed.
“Compiling all this will take…a while,” Cerasi said, her smile painted. “And we have our own stories to tell, each and every one of us.” She huffed. “There are few enough left that I think we can spare the time to tell everyone's stories.”
“There’s got to be consistency in the recording for it to be a fair telling, though,” Obi-Wan pointed out. “And you have to decide what to do when there are differing opinions of the same story.”
Pohl frowned. “What do you mean?”
His mouth twisted. “That first negotiation, between Melida, Daan, and the Young, mediated by the Jedi. Safe to say every single one of those involved would have a different perspective.”
Pohl and Rod looked at each other. “We’ll think of something,” Pohl said.
Cerasi smiled at them. “I’m sure you will.”
And then the Mandalorians came back.
“Really?” Rizzo demanded, blatantly unimpressed with her hands set on her hips.
Myles grinned, shrugging. Fett was practically radiating exasperation, even through their beskar armour. They'd commed them to warn that they were on the way, at least.
“You’re rebuilding, right?” Myles exclaimed. “We brought more medical supplies, and other stuff you can rebuild with!”
Leezal made intrigued noises at the tools they’d brought, and Khiyosh pushed their way past him, headed unerringly for the Mandalorians' medbay. Nield went absolutely feral over the selection of seeds and grain, snatching them out of the Mandalorians’ ship and cackling as he ran towards their fields.
“I’d apologise for Nield,” Obi-Wan said dryly, “but I think you brought it upon yourselves.”
Fett jabbed their thumb at Myles. “It’s all his fault,” they said immediately. “I’m just here to contain the fallout.”
“You couldn’t control ‘em?” Rizzo demanded.
“You wanna give it a try?” Fett demanded.
“You married ‘em,” Rizzo said dubiously.
“That’s ‘cause you love me, cyar’ika,” Myles cooed. "Who wants to learn about animal husbandry?”
Cerasi bit her lip. “What’s this going to cost us?”
Myles’s expression softened. “Nothing, ad’ika, ori’haat. We told you before that you would well be within your rights to ask for remuneration, given what Pre's actions. There are no conditions, no bargains or petitions. We offer you our knowledge freely.”
“Freely?” Cerasi echoed, glancing at him uncertainly.
The Force resounded with Myles’s sincerity. Obi-Wan nodded, and even the Darksaber grumbled out its agreement.
Myles gave them a cheeky little smile. “Well, if you were feeling especially grateful and wanted to throw in the dha’kad’au-.”
By this time, Obi-Wan felt like he could safely roll his eyes at the man. “No.”
“Could we borrow it?”
“No.”
“How about a rental-?”
“No.”