Chapter Text
Myles stood waiting while the non descript shuttle landed in front of him, just off to the side of where the Mand’alor’s corvette had finished loading and was now waiting.
They’d actually put off this contract for nearly a tenday.
Confidentially, he knew why, and it was the only thing that could have kept Jango tethered planetside when there were credible sightings of Death Watch and a contract from a planetary ruler to get rid of them.
Jango had wanted to go early, but then when Myles’ beloved had returned to him the next night, Myles had discovered why his attitude had suddenly turned toward patience.
Patience was not, for the record, one of Jango Fett’s primary virtues.
But Jaster Mereel was still alive, and he was still alive because one night four years ago the Ohnaka Gang showed up (incongruently, mysteriously, bizarrely, and thus in a clearly Manda-ordained fashion) and saved the Mand’alor from a Death Watch trap.
And the Ohnaka Gang had called in the debt.
Nine days ago.
The debt was to take on Ohnaka’s ward, ‘a precocious lad’ (they’d had to look up the Basic definitions, there) who was capable in most respects, but needed a new perspective and whatever other combat training the Mand’alor saw fit. There had been three kidnappings so far this year.
Myles wasn’t entirely prepared to see what he saw disembark from the shuttle.
Hondo Ohnaka, the swaggering Weequay pirate came first, hailing him with an arm flung wide and a wide smile, his eyes covered by his goggles, and appearing for all the galaxy to be half drunk on alcohol and simultaneously half drunk on himself.
It was rather the way he’d swaggered onto the battlefield on Korda VI. Myles had watched the videos. He’d also, pertinent to their current situation, had a little redheaded child by his side at the time who could jump in a manner that belied any claim at being truly near human.
Myles had reviewed the video closely, and both he and Jango figured the little redheaded humanish child was probably the ward in question who was too smart for his own good, but not smart enough to avoid being kidnapped. They weren’t at all sure how old he had been at the time, but he would maybe be old enough to face the birth of his warrior self now, and perhaps it was time.
And then Myles Skirata watched the other being emerge from the shuttle, his swagger only a little less than that of his guardian.
A red headed, male presenting near human exactly as tall as Jango, but with more silk, leather, and sex appeal.
The child had clearly grown up.
And if one was going to forgo armor, that much black leather was a good look. He was long, lean, and had a reasonable number of weapons, including one obvious trophy.
Though one wondered how a young warrior pirate who let himself get kidnapped three times in a row also managed to best a Jedi.
Or perhaps it was less of a mystery; the pirate oozed sex appeal and looked like he was on the prowl. Sex was an excellent way to get someone’s guard down, and predatory beings as pretty as that one usually knew how to wield that weapon well. Undoubtedly how he got one over on the Jedi.
And though Myles could understand why someone would want to bed the being, he was less clear why they’d want to kidnap him.
Grudges against pirates, or his gang in particular?
Maybe.
Myles took a deep breath and reached back for his irritation, reminding himself that he and Jango were exclusive, and he didn’t need to mess up their dynamic by inviting a baby pirate to their bed.
No matter how much fun he might be.
“Well, well, well. Captain Hondo Ohnaka and son. The Mand’alor has stayed the mission for you,” he greeted.
Hondo blustered in a gracious way, and Myles only nodded. He needed to get something out there in the spoken place between them before ugly rumors would start aboard the ship they’d all be on together for more than a week.
“That a trophy you know how to use, child?” Myles asked, nodding down to the lightsaber clipped to the young pirate’s belt.
Ohnaka the Younger’s face transformed from light awareness to full focus seduction with the sweet smile to match. When he spoke, it was with a crisp, perfect, Core World accent that in no way had Myles expected.
“If you’d like to find out, we can test how much beskar is in your armor,” the pirate offered, sounding for all the world like he was offering a courting spar with hard fuck to follow.
Hondo only laughed and clapped him on the back like a proud parent. Whenever Hondo spoke it was a booming, boisterous thing, and this moment was no different.
“Have all the fun you can manage, my boy! And learn everything you can. Comm me when you feel like it.”
Immediately Myles watched the confusion cloud the young pirate’s face, and a sneaking suspicion began to dawn on the Mandalorian.
He waved the younger Ohnaka on even as the elder just turned around and made for his own shuttle. Perhaps he’d forgotten something? Like his child’s bag?
Even pirates had luggage, right?
No, of course pirates had luggage. They were known for stealing luggage, so they had their luggage and your luggage, both.
“Come on, child,” Myles said, adding the diminutive in the hopes of giving himself a little mental space to how attractive the young warrior pirate was. “The mission is waiting for you to say goodbye to your parent.”
Now the young warrior was truly startled as he looked around for his parent. When he spoke, it was with arms akimbo, and high drama, both.
The two were obviously related.
“Hondo! What the hell? You need to collect the debt!”
The older pirate took the landing ramp at a clip, then tossed a mid-sized duffel a surprisingly long distance toward them. He hit the door close panel while he smiled and waved.
“Remember! Have fun!” the Weequay Ohnaka said as the doors slowly shut.
The Humanish Ohnaka was silent two steps in front of him. Myles had mercy on him.
“He didn’t tell you? You are the debt. We’re training you, adorable one. Get your ass moving and grab your luggage.”
Silently, the warrior did so, slinging the duffel’s single short strap over his shoulder before turning back. His face was surprisingly calm and placid and had none of the animation of before, which was understandable, but also none of the animation he might expect from a precocious teenling who’d just been unceremoniously dropped off in the manner Myles’ had just witnessed.
In silence Myles showed him to his bunk in the slightly less full bunk room, showed him the refreshers, the training room, the lounge space, the rules for the karyai, and the food from the kitchens that had been brought for him. And then when he was finished with that, Myles showed him to the Mand’alor’s quarters, as he’d been instructed.
He did send Mereel a one line head’s up on the quiet.
“Pirate didn’t tell the child they were staying.”
And all he could think about in the silence was, ‘poor kid.’
Silas watched in silence over the datapad he was no longer reading as the disreputable pirate’s son silently slung a duffel bag up to the bunk across from him. He unpacked a few things and looked through what was packed in entirety, as if cataloguing them.
So he was either a little anxious about his things, or he hadn’t packed his own bag.
If it was the former, he had nothing to worry about. No one would touch his stuff, leastways his weapons.
If it was the latter, that was troubling. Either he hadn’t packed his bag because he couldn’t be trusted, or because he had no sense of personal responsibility, or because he hadn’t known he would be staying.
If Silas were a betting being, which he wasn’t, he’d put credits on the last.
The little pirate had an air about him. Shocked horror, maybe.
So if he was correct, which he mildly hoped he wasn’t, but experience was teaching him he probably was, that fucking coward Ohnaka hadn’t told his own son he’d be staying long term with someone else.
Poor kid.