3.09 Family and Training
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The furnace whispered its surrender. The heat faded, the air cooled, and in my hands, I cradled the fruit of fire and will—a crystal, born of my defiance. This one had been forged with nothing but my strength of will and desire. I was still disappointed that the first attempt had cost me one of the two crystals I’d gotten from the crystal cave on Ilum, but with a replacement now in my hand I accepted the price I’d had to pay.
There had been another attempt before this one as well, where I’d tried to temper my rage in shaping a crystal, pushing other strong emotions that weren’t associated with the Sith into creating the lattice of a crystal. However, that attempt had produced a flawed crystal, one Observe made clear was unusable in a lightsaber. I had placed it in my Inventory on the chance that one day it might have a use, but I was uncertain if such a day might ever arrive.
This crystal was forged in blood and rage, tempered in the fires of my refusal to yield. It was the reflection of my war—not against an enemy, but against the galaxy itself. Against what it demanded I become. It had taken days of constant effort, the third such effort inside half a month, but in the end, my efforts had been rewarded and as I held the crystal up, placing it between my fingers, I failed to see any sign of a flaw. Still, I had to be sure.
Artificial lightsaber crystal (miniature)
An artificial lightsaber crystal created by Cameron Shan.
This crystal, while capable of being used as a focus for the Force, is too small to be used as the single focusing crystal within a lightsaber.
HP: 15
Rarity: Unique
Value: 5000 Credits
Energy Value: 500
Attuned Users: Cameron Shan (100%)
Special Features:
Grants a minor boost to the usage of Force powers that a Force user demands the Force help them with.
...
My brow rose at seeing the slight boosts this artificially created crystal granted me, and curious about the differences I pulled the remaining crystal from Ilum from my Inventory.
Ilum Adegan Crystal (miniature)
A crystal from the caves of the planet Ilum.
This crystal, while capable of being used as a focus for the Force, is too small to be used as the single focusing crystal within a lightsaber.
HP: 5
Rarity: Uncommon
Value: 3000 Credits
Energy Value: 300
Attuned Users: Cameron Shan (100%)
Special Features:
Grants a minor boost to the usage of Force powers that work in concert with the Force.
...
It was interesting to see the differences between the two crystals. The Ilum crystal sang with harmony—a melody of millennia, a hymn of the Force as it wished to be. My crystal roared—a symphony of defiance, raw and untamed, its notes jagged and sharp.
The fact the artificial crystal was worth more than the natural one was an odd discovery, however, days of effort to make the crystal didn’t suggest it was worth considering creating crystals for revenue. And that was before I considered how much my writings and holomovies were making me.
The Energy Value of the crystals, and other objects that had it listed, was still something I’d yet to determine the purpose for. It only appeared on objects that held strong connections to the Force, yet the more obvious possible uses – such as trying to store the Force inside them, or using them as focusing crystals for the Force had failed to achieve anything. I’d used some of the crystals I’d found on Dantooine when I’d visited there many years ago with Fay, as other than using one for the focusing crystal in my shoto lightsaber, and another for Padmé’s lightfoil, they’d served no purpose until now. I was uncertain if I might ever learn the reason the Interface listed Energy Value with objects connected to the Force, and I was not going to commit more thought to discovering its purpose.
My thoughts right now were more on the fact Observe gave no hint the crystal I’d created wouldn’t work in a lightsaber, and trying to contain my excitement, I pulled the various components – those that had survived the battle with Maul and those I’d had to purchase as replacements – from my Inventory. The small greater krayt dragon crystal and the Mantle of the Force were also taken out. Holding the Mantle in my hand, and knowing this would be the last time in a long time that I could do so, I used Observe upon the ancient Force crystal.
Mantle of the Force
(Unique Force Crystal)
One of two legendary Force crystals linked with Revan.
While the origins of this crystal have been lost to the ages, the potential it possesses has not.
HP: 20
Rarity: Unique
Value: 50000
Energy Value: 1000
Attuned Users: Cameron Shan (100%)
Special Features:
Enhances the benefits of any other crystals used in a lightsaber.
Grants a small increase in the potency of an attuned user's Force abilities.
...
It had taken far longer than I’d expected to attune Revan’s former crystal to me entirely, and when I’d finally managed to do so, I’d not yet gotten Mechanics [Lightsaber] to the required level to allow me to add it as a fourth crystal to my old lightsaber. That restriction was gone now, and I was curious as to what boosts it brought to the two main crystals I would be adding to my new blade, and my ability to focus the Force through it.
I placed a clean, silk towel on the ground, ensuring that the various components didn’t bring even a speck of dirt into what I was about to begin. This towel was one I’d been given years ago by Fay as a way to help clean and maintain my lightsaber, and to rest the components if I ever disassembled my blade to make alterations. I had everything I needed to create my lightsaber, though the casing I was using this time wasn’t the one I intended as the final design.
For that, I would need to travel to Mandalore. One of the smaller teeth from the dragon I’d killed for my verd’goten – yet the tooth was still longer than my palm – would be used for the hilt. The inside of the tooth would be hollowed out and the components placed inside. The tooth would be coated externally in beskar, preventing anyone from destroying my blade as Maul had done on Naboo.
I knew many would see my usage of Mandalorian Iron in my lightsaber’s hilt as a sign that my loyalties ran stronger with the Mando’ade than the Jedi, but that choice had been one I’d come to over the last year and a bit. If I had to choose, my loyalty lay with my fellow Mando’ade and not the Jedi, nor the masters they failed to question in the Republic.
That said, I had no intention of leaving the Order just yet. Staying a member of the Jedi offered many benefits that I intended to exploit, including potential access to the Archives with a focus on the Holocron Vaults. Dooku had ideas there, but I could think about those later. My focus now, as I made sure each of the components I would be using was clean and ready, was on building my new weapon.
I took one final look at everything that lay before me and then closed my eyes. I stretched out my arm, placing my organic hand above the towel, and after taking a deep breath to centre myself, called forth the Force. I felt it flow through me, understanding my desires, and moving toward what lay on the towel. My breath caught in my throat as I felt my connection to the crystals I would be using – even the dragon pearl – as the Force brushed over them. I’d never experienced that before, providing yet another reminder that Natural Selection had been the correct choice.
From the Ilum crystal, the connection was gentle and soothing. It was as if the Force was melding with me, granting me the ability to flow with its desires and help bring forth the path it wished for. From the crystal I’d just created, the Force was more energetic. Not turbulent, but definitely primal. It desired control or for me to dominate it and guide it to help create the galaxy I wished for. The Force in the synthetic crystal bore hints of my Force presence, in much the same way as Raven did, yet without the higher intelligence the living starship possessed. From the pearl, there were lingering hints of animalistic mentalities, yet it was the Mantle that drew my focus.
I could sense my presence within it, yet the way the Force flowed with, through, and around it was different: something unique. It felt as if it wished to work with other crystals, to help them become something greater as it, in ways I failed to truly understand, altered the very Force that slid through it. This aligned with everything Observe had stated, yet being able to feel and experience it was an entirely different matter than simply knowing it was happening.
Understanding now instinctively how the crystals responded to the Force and me, I created the weapon I wished to build in my mind’s eye. I knew in my soul how the crystals should align, and how the various technical components would be placed around them. Understanding my desires and working with me, the Force shifted, and I felt everything that was to be part of my lightsaber lift into the air.
I took things slowly, not wanting anything to be misaligned, and had the crystals and components float around each other, finding the perfect positions to create the most powerful weapon. This task, the creation of a lightsaber, could only be done by one skilled in either using or working with the Force. The Jedi and Sith were the obvious choices, but I felt others, such as skilled Shapers, could create a weapon of similar potential. To create a weapon of this magnitude demanded more than a connection to the Force—it demanded mastery. Precision. A will unbroken and unyielding. This was not an instrument of peace or war. It was a monument to power. A singularity of purpose that could rival the stars themselves.
Time dissolved, a casualty of my singular focus. The Force bent to my will, shaped by my purpose, moulded by my command. There was no partnership here, no harmony—only control. Each component, each crystal, moved where I demanded, the galaxy itself aligning with my design.
Eventually, uncertain of how much time had passed though it felt as if I had only just closed my eyes, the last piece slid into place. This was the configuration I needed, the one that would work best with me, the Force, and how I wished to use it. I moved the temporary hilt forward, sliding the assembly inside it, and then sealed the hilt with a latch that could only be opened by someone using the Force. Others could attempt to build a lightsaber, but only one skilled in the use of the Force could create a hilt for which the latch to gain access to the crystals and components was stored internally.
I opened my palm, and the hilt glided toward me. My fingers closed slowly around it, taking ownership of my new lightsaber, and as I felt the Force react happily to my creation, my eyes opened so that I could see what I’d forged.
I couldn’t help but smile as if I were a youngling in a candy store as I took in the weapon I’d created. The hilt might not be the final one, but the familiar curved nature of it and the simple pommel felt comfortable in my grasp. This weapon was one built by and for me, and I now felt complete.
This blade was as much a part of me as my mechanical arm was, more so even. The parts might not be made of flesh and blood, but the blade was an extension of my will. I turned the hilt over, marvelling at what I’d created. It was smooth, with the ignition switch being stored internally.
Once the final casing was ready, I’d be adding other options as well, all of which would also be stored internally. Well, all but one of them. The only external extra would be an in-built DNA scanner in the grip. That was to ensure that even if another Force user activated the internal switch to ignite the blade if their pattern wasn’t stored in the hilt then the blade would fail to ignite. The other features, such as the ability to work underwater, or alter the length of the blade on whim, would be internal. They would only work if my hand grasped the blade, so none could interfere with my weapon, nor turn it against me.
I stood slowly, careful to not let the hilt slip from my grip, and quickly moved into the standard opening stance of Makashi. Without trepidation, as if I knew the blade would work perfectly, The blade ignited with a whisper—a predator’s growl echoing across the ages. The sound curled in my ears, primal and alive. It was not a weapon. It was a heartbeat, a howl, a promise. I smiled—a predator’s smile—as the glow bathed the room. This was no Jedi’s weapon.
“Interesting,” I muttered, my gaze fixed on the blade’s crimson edge. The red bled into the darkness of the core, consuming the light. It was not a deviation—it was an evolution. A mark of what I had become. The change must have come from the crystal I’d created that now lay at the heart of the weapon. The black light at the blade’s core, which seemed to consume all light around it, darkened the red of the edge, but even so, I knew many would see this and assume more deeply that I had turned to the Sith.
I should’ve seen this coming to be honest. Almost every Sith blade – be they of the Banite line or one that came from before Ruusan – had borne a red artificial crystal at its core. Why, when I’d used the same process, should my blade be any different?
Now, there were some Jedi who used a red blade, but those crystals were naturally occurring ones. Much like the one I’d found on Dantooine that I had used in the creation of Padmé’s lightfoil. Those Jedi with such blades were rare, with only black being rarer. In theory, the fact other Jedi had wielded red blades should absolve concerns from the Order, but I knew for a significant faction, it would only increase their distrust of me.
Jon Savos and Master Belfarr had always been the two most vocal voices against my presence in the Order. Others, such as Masters Windu and Piell had grown more accepting toward me, though I knew they still harboured reservations about me and my intentions. The newest voice to speak against me was Sia-Lan Wezz.
The former friend had turned, choosing to speak negatively about me because of what had happened to Serra and Master Drallig. That was disappointing as while we weren’t that close, I had enjoyed her friendship, and watching her movements while we sparred. The girl was very blessed in ways that I could appreciate. Yet for all that, I was fine with losing her friendship.
She and the others could say what they wanted. I would deny it, of course, but it was amusing that they were right that I was a threat to the Order. Just not, perhaps, in the way they believed. The path I lay on was different from the Jedi, and so long as they made no move to prevent me from travelling where I wished to go, then I could ignore them for now. In the future, as war swallowed the galaxy, I knew I would find myself across the battlefield from the Jedi at times, but that was far enough away that I didn’t allow it to concern me greatly.
I stepped forward, guiding my new blade through one of the base velocities of Makashi. The movement was, as it had been for years, perfect. Yet now, with the Force flowing freely and a blade crafted by my intentions, the action was smoother, perhaps even easier and more efficient. The blade slid around, moving so easily and accurately that it was as if it could sense and anticipate my intentions and desires. This blade was an extension of me, and moved in perfect alignment with my actions, letting the Force flow through and around us.
My smile grew wider, threatening to encompass all of my lower face, as I worked through more of the velocities of my base form. My feet shifted, bringing in the Ataru footwork I’d adopted into my personal style. My movements became easier, more fluid and graceful as the Force shifted with me, accepting my intentions, and acquiescing to them.
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For the first time since Naboo… no, since my rebirth in this universe, I felt complete. I’d never understood just how much of a part of someone their lightsaber was until this moment. Around me, the world fell away as I moved through various velocities. Nothing else mattered for the time being, not Anakin or others I cared deeply for, or my slowly developing plans for the future. All that existed was myself, my lightsaber and the Force.
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I pulled back, avoiding the fist that rushed toward my face, yet as the hand opened, I understood what was to happen but didn’t react in time. A second later I was flying through the air, landing with a thud in the dirt around me.
“Osik!” I spat out and slammed my fist into the ground, angered at again failing to stop Simvyl from taking me down. Yes, I’d agreed to not draw on the Force heavily while we sparred, and yes he had become a far stronger warrior since Naboo – when he was still as good as most of the Mando’ade – but this was getting fucking annoying. What made it worse was the pleased smirk the Cathar had as he moved toward me.
“That’s seven-six to you,” he says as he extends a hand. “As much as I’m enjoying taking you down, I can tell something is bothering you.”
I grunt in annoyance even as I take the hand. “Perhaps you’ve just gotten better than me over the last week,” I snapped back, though it would be clear to even a youngling that I don’t believe my words.
Simvyl sighed. “Cam, in the time since we first met, I’ve seen you fight hundreds of times, and sparred with you more times than I can count.” My mind instantly supplied the number, revealing to be north of seven thousand, though some of those were spars that bled from one into another so might not count as individual spars. “Yes, ever since Naboo I have grown stronger by joining you and Anakin in your training, and I am grateful for you helping me become an even stronger warrior, but don’t lie to yourself. For each step forward I’ve taken, you’ve taken a dozen more at least. I barely manage to score a single point in our spars and yet all morning you’ve been off. A hair too slow, a fraction late in responding. Even a blind, deaf, and dumb gundark could tell something is bothering you.”
I look at Simvyl carefully as I consider his words. Since we first met on Zonama Sekot he’s matured, and while still young at twenty-one, he has evolved into a powerful and skilled fighter. He is someone I consider a good and trusted friend though I know I’ve spent more time since Naboo training Anakin than interacting with him. He has never hinted at being upset about this and worked hard to join our training when and how he can. Yet for all that, I know that he still has some way to go before he reaches his peak and becomes one of the greatest ever Cathar warriors.
I grunt in annoyance at his words and kick the ground at my feet. “It’s complicated,” I mutter as I watch the clump of dirt I just kicked go flying away, “and has much to do with where we are.”
We landed on Mandalore about a week ago, and I quickly sought out the Mando’ade metalsmiths so that they could create the hilt I desired. However, it turned out that my exact idea wasn’t feasible, and they suggested something slightly different. Instead of creating a simple coat of beskar to go over the tooth, the metalsmiths told me they could infuse the metal into the tooth, making the entire thing stronger and allowing the natural colour of the tooth to remain, though enhanced by the distinct ripples of beskar. I was overjoyed at their suggestion and asked them to create it, and while it wasn’t yet finished, they assured me it would be but another day or two until I had a weapon worthy of a true Mando’ade in my hands.
Word of what I was creating leaked to the two most powerful figures in the sector, and over one dinner Dukes Adonai and Torrhen – though both barely used the Republic-created titles for themselves – had asked me about the weapon. Between the pair of them, they controlled nearly seventy per cent of the sector and had the loyalty of nearly sixty per cent of the people. The rest, while not openly backing the pair, chose to follow decrees they passed, suggesting one or both could attempt to become Mand'alor.
Neither had however and while they both said it was because they felt unworthy of the title, I knew there was more to it. There was already a reigning Mand'alor, Jango Fett, though he had no interest in claiming the title, or at least using it to unite the clans. Instead, he had devoted himself to bounty hunting, becoming, unless something had heavily altered in this timeline, the template for the Clone Army and using Kamino as his base of operations white he raised his son, Boba.
Jango had become Mand'alor when his adopted father and the last to claim the title through strength of arms, Jaster Mereel, was betrayed and killed. Jango had avenged his father’s death but afterwards turned his back on his people. Tor Vizsla had styled himself the secret Mand'alor and ruled via the Darksaber, and while Jango had killed him, I knew that Pre had the blade and was working to become the next Mand'alor. However, like Adonai and Torrhen, he didn’t seek out Jango and challenge the bounty hunter to single combat.
There was a good reason for this, as from what I’d seen of his fighting, Jango was a greater warrior than any of the three. Because of that, until Jango died, or some new and unexpected challenger emerged who could defeat and kill Jango, there would be no Mand'alor to lead the people.
I didn’t know for certain that Jango was on Kamino, beginning the training of the clones, but given many other warriors – names such as Vhonte Tervho, Kal Skirata, and Dun Marod who had all fought for me on Naboo – had gone missing, I felt it was a safe bet that he was there. The project was, as was always intended by them, under the control of the Banite Sith. The question was, with Sifo-Dyas dead, who was the puppet that Sidious had ordered to take control of the project?
I was heavily interested in the clone project, but knew that turning up on Kamino without an excellent reason to head to such an isolated system, would draw the suspicion of the Kaminoans, and through them, have the Banite Sith know that I knew of Kamino. Such a move risked exposing that I knew more than they thought I knew, and as I knew I was far from ready to take on either of them, never mind both or with Anakin in tow, then the longer they remained unknowing of the extent of my knowledge, the safer it would be for me and those I cared about, and it was two such people that had left me distracted all morning.
As I’d known would happen, the first night I was back on Mandalore, Bo and Naz had dragged me to bed, wanting to make up for our time apart. I had happily indulged those needs, though their suggestions that I challenge the dukes and attempt to become Mand'alor myself were ones I ignored and avoided. I wasn’t strong enough, at least not without the Force, to defeat Adonai or Torrhen, to say nothing of Jango.
“Complicated as in dangerous, or complicated as in involving your females.”
Simvyl’s insightful comment drew my thoughts away from the future of the Mando’ade, and I chuckled at how easily he’d hit the nail on the head. “Where females are involved, is it ever anything but both,” I responded, drawing a snort of amusement from him.
I turned and looked to where I knew Keldabe lay. Somewhere in the city, with HK and R2 as escorts, Anakin was being led around by my two lovers. I knew that Anakin would be heading to a Mandalmotors design facility later today – Alor Dred had allowed my request for Anakin to research some of his ideas at Dred’s company’s facilities, though on the promise that if the boy wished to have his designs made, that Mandalmotors had an opportunity to consider helping – but beyond that he was at their tender mercies as to what they’d do and where they’d go.
Fenrir was further to the south of me, enjoying himself deep in a remote forest. I’d left him there two days ago, letting him be the alpha predator he was, and I’d felt semi-regular bouts of delight from him. No doubt that meant that he’d either made a fresh kill, defeated a challenger or even both.
Simvyl and I had headed out to this open field so that we could spar and so that I could take my mind off the offer Naz, and less enthusiastically, Bo had made last night after our latest evening of carnal pleasure. However, it seemed their offer was haunting my thoughts and distracting me from the spar.
“They seek offspring?” My head snapped back to Simvyl, shocked at him knowing what the ladies wanted. He chuckled at my reaction. “I may not be Human,” he explained, “but the mating dance has many similar actions regardless of species.” He took a long sniff of the air. “As usual their scent is all over you this morning. Add in that you all are over the Age of Responsibility, what I now know of how important offspring are to Mandalorians, and that through Anakin you have shown yourself to be a good father, is it any wonder they wish to bear your progeny?”
I smirk at his words. “You are a touch too diplomatic and formal about their request, but you are right.” I turned around and looked toward Keldabe, to where the two women who had taken space within my heart were. “I’m not opposed to having children, nor with them being mothers to my kids. It’s just…”
“You fear for their safety because of the war you have made clear you know is coming?” I nodded but kept my focus on the city hundreds of miles away. “Understandable, but illogical. You are a warrior, Cam, an alpha in the most animalistic sense. Deny it you might, but you seek this war and look forward to it. That means you also want to establish your dominance over the coming darkness, which you believe will be perhaps ten years from now.” I nodded again. “Then why are you afraid of bearing younglings with those you love? If you deny yourself the chance now, then as the war grows closer and the danger increases, the chances your offspring will be capable of surviving decreases. It is both logical and primal that you have your children now so that when the war comes, you have prepared them for it as best you can.”
I grunt in annoyance at the wisdom in his words and begin walking toward where Raven is parked. “You’re right.”
“Of course,” he responded with a smirk. “But I feel there are other concerns you have about taking your women and having them bear your progeny.”
I fought back the image that formed in my mind of Naz and Bo, my cum leaking out of their bodies after I’d impregnated them. That was something I didn’t need to see currently, not even in the deeper corners of my mind. “The Jedi,” I said slowly, responding to his inquiry. “If they discover I have children, they will seek to test them, and if they display aptitude with the Force, will want to take them to the Temple and deny me access to them. And of course, the fact that, while not a requirement, most Mando’ade would be expected to marry those with whom they share a child.”
We were within sight of Raven now, and I moved to a small crate I’d brought out, knowing there were chilled bottles of water inside. As I reached the crate, Simvyl spoke up again.
“I can’t speak for Lady Vizsla, but we both know that Bo-Katan has about as much interest in marriage as you do in becoming celibate.” I choke at his blunt, but arcuate comparison. “Even with the emphasis that Mandalorians place on family, she’s something of an outlier.”
“True, but Naz is another matter, and not just because she might like the idea of being bound to me,” I say as I reach into the crate. “Her father… well, it’s clear he dislikes the Jedi, and me even more so. She was engaged to the heir of another clan, and while that is over, I believed that the heir is still interested in her, so taking Naz as mine would cause issues with that clan as well as Alor Pre.”
Simvyl caught a bottle as I tossed it to him. “Are any of them strong enough to challenge you for her hand?”
“Pre perhaps, but I know I can take him,” I say as Simvyl take a sip of his water.
“Then it doesn’t matter,” He said after his sip, “as much as there was a time when I would’ve felt insulted to say this, Mandalorians are not unlike the Cathar. We might claim to be civilised and obey expected Republic norms, but we are a warrior people, as are the Mandalorians. For our peoples, it is strength or arms, both personal and clans, that matter and not who has the highest office, or who holds the most credits.” He grunted and shook his head. “Perhaps that is the failing of the Republic,” he muttered to himself, but his words reached me regardless. “If they dislike your arrangements with Lady Vizsla and Bo-Katan, then they can either challenge you about it and lose, or know their place and mind their tongue.”
“Is this how Cathar society works?” I asked before drinking some of the water in my bottle. I could’ve said more, but I’m interested in what else Simvyl has to say. I’ve spent much of the morning going over the matter of children with Bo and Naz in my head, and I find that I’m enjoying having a male to speak with. Simvyl has, without me realising it, become my closest male friend. Hells, with Darihd dead, he is possibly my only male friend. That is both amusing and slightly concerning.
Simvyl smirked, exposing his fangs. “To a degree, yes. But then all cultures work along similar lines. At least where the influence of the Republic hasn’t twisted their ideals. To those in the Core and worlds like them, power comes from credits and political influence. On the more remote worlds, or those home to species and cultures like the Cathar, Zygerrians, and Mandalorians, sentients understand that while credits and influence grant some control, true power belongs to those with the strength to take it. That, when push comes to shove, the galaxy belongs to the warriors and not those who seek peace and understanding.”
My head tilted as I accepted and agreed with his logic. The Core is flawed and corrupt, something easiest to see on Coruscant but present elsewhere. What amused me about his statement was how, even if he would never know it, how close some of his ideas about what true power was and what it meant aligned closely with those of Adas.
“As for your concerns about the Jedi taking your progeny, I feel there is little for you to be concerned about.” My brow rose questioningly at the certainty in his voice. “Mandalorians dislike the Jedi, thus I’m sure they have ways to falsify the records of the Force potential of any born into their culture. If you are still concerned that the Jedi might seek out your children regardless of the test, I suspect Duke Adonai in particular would be willing to ensure your name is not on any public records regarding the parentage of the children.”
I looked at him, impressed with the insight. “Such a simple deception wouldn’t fool the Jedi or Sith, and the moment they learn either of the ladies are with child, they will move to take the baby, knowing it's mine. It won’t take them much effort to take either, no matter how hard Bo and Naz would fight, they’re no match for a Jedi Master or a Sith Lord.” I smirked as I finished my bottle and then used the Force to levitate the crate. “It’s not exactly a secret how close I am with the pair.”
Simvyl chuckled as we moved to enter Raven. “No, it certainly isn’t,” he said, “I believe half of the city has heard your couplings over the last few nights.” A wide grin spread over my face at the idea I might have kept others up while Bo, Naz, and I partook in carnal desires with each other. “Still, while you are right that neither of them would be a match against a Jedi or Sith, we both know they would not face such a threat alone. Their clans, and perhaps much of the sector, would take up arms against any attempt to take one of their children or interference in Mandalorian affairs by the Jedi or Republic.”
I didn’t reply immediately, instead working to ensure the crate was onboard and settled on the floor. Simvyl made it sound as if the Mando’ade would declare war against the Republic if the Jedi took any children I potentially had in the future. I, however, doubted that would be the case. Oh, I’d expect their clans to seek vengeance, but only them. That said, the idea of Bo and Naz launching a two-woman assault on the Temple, and doing considerable damage to it, was quite amusing.
“Thank you for your counsel,” I said once the crate was secure, and I had asked Raven to close the ramp. “You’ve helped me see the path I might take. Though I warn you that any lack of sleep you get from tonight onwards is your own fault.”
He laughed good-naturedly at that and patted my shoulder. “I shall ensure I have aids to block out external sounds then. As much as the glances I get from others because of your behaviour amuses me, I need my beauty sleep.”
“That you do,” I snapped back with a grin. He smacked my shoulder as we both laughed at the joke though before anything else could be said or done, the comm unit in my arm beeped for attention. A simple tap opened the channel, and a small hologram of a familiar person appeared. “Osto, what can I do for you this morning?” I asked the heir to Clan Ordo.
“Cam,” he replied, making clear instantly that this was a social call, “just wanted to check in with you and Simvyl. We’ve got another game of Meshgeroya planned for tonight.”
I smirk at the revelation. “We’re game, but I thought you’d be tired of losing so much,” I responded, commenting on the fact that in the five games that we’d played so far, Osto had always been on the other team, and the score was four-to-one in my favour when it came to victories.
Meshgeroya was the Mando’a name for Limmie, a popular sport played throughout the galaxy. Amusingly, the name translated into ‘The Beautiful Game’, which fit well as the game bore a lot of similarity to football from my former life. The biggest difference, beyond the size of the playing area, was that it was far more violent, at times bearing more similarity to rugby than football, and thankfully had none of the more recent ‘improvements’ brought into football that had slowed things down and sucked some of the enjoyment from the game.
The rules of Meshgeroya weren’t too different from football, so I took to the game easily, and since that first game, Simvyl and I had always found time to play it with the Mando’ade around our age. Beyond the building camaraderie that brought forth, it helped Simvyl become further accepted by the Mando’ade.
“Today will be the day you fall, defeated and broken at my feet!” Osto proclaimed dramatically while pumping his fist in the air. A moment later we all laughed at his comment, and he then continued. “I just wanted to be certain. This evening Gar and Tor will depart on assignment.”
I nodded, remembering that Gar Saxon told me that he was, along with about twenty others including Rook Kast, Bryn Tyri, and Tor Vizsla, heading to the Gaia system. There they’d help the Lokella train their warriors for future raids against various slaver groups, and advise on ways to improve planetary and system defence.
There was something oddly poetic about Gar heading there to train the Lokella when it had been his father who had led the first assault from Decca the Hutt that attempted to re-enslave the, at the time unnamed group. He had long accepted that my killing of his father was honourable, even the actions of his father were not, but I still at times found it odd how easily Gar and I had become, if not friends, then comrades in battle.
Gar was aware that many Lokella wouldn’t be happy to have a Saxon present on Mtael’s Gift, but he was unconcerned by it. He had chosen this assignment aware of that issue, and like any true warrior would face the challenge head-on. I’d believed him for the most part, but still used the Force and Observe to confirm his honesty on the matter.
What was interesting, at least to me, was that Tor Vizsla, the son and heir of Pre and Naz’s older brother, would be joining Gar and the others. Since the assault on Keldabe at the start of the most recent civil war, Tor had become a vocal opponent to the Death Watch, so much so that Observe didn’t register it among his loyalties, though he retained a strong loyalty to his father. Tor’s hatred toward Death Watch would infuriate Pre, as that man intended to rebuild the Death Watch in his image and, after either defeating Jango in combat or learning the bounty hunter was dead, proclaim himself Mand'alor. Though perhaps not as much as how close I was to Naz, or that through her Tor and I were becoming comfortable in each other’s company.
One day, based on the quest I had for him, I knew Pre and I would face off in battle. If, as was the most likely option, I was forced to kill him in that battle, it would be interesting to see how Tor and Naz responded to that. I expected Naz to be sad but accepting, even – if we had children by then – that I proved her choice in taking me as her mate. Tor, however, was going to need watching, which was why the growing friendship with him was a useful thing in that regard as well.
“What time will we play?” I asked Osto.
“The usual,” He replied.
I checked with Simvyl and got a nod, confirming he was interested in playing. “Then we’ll see you then,” I said to Osto before closing the channel. I started heading toward the cockpit, Simvyl walking with me. “I guess we’ll have to pick up Fenrir earlier than I expected.”
The Cathar chuckled. “I’m sure he’s going to love that.”
I laughed. Fenrir was going to hate having his hunt cut short, but I knew we wouldn’t be spending much longer on Mandalore. The beskar metalsmiths assured me that the hilt for my blade would be completed by this evening, and I wanted to depart from the planet by tomorrow night at the latest.
Anzat was to be the next culture that I was to train with. Simvyl had expressed interest in learning from a race known to produce some of the most dangerous assassins, blood trackers, and hunters in the galaxy. Anakin, however, wouldn’t be joining this training. He was too young, and I didn’t want him around a species that, even if they didn’t do so to every outsider, were known to feed on the lifeforce of others.
Now, only the most feral of Anzati tried to feed without thought, but I wasn’t going to place Anakin, someone with the highest Force potential in the galaxy – if not of all time – into such a place. He would remain on Raven, guarded by Fenrir, HK and R2. I’d see what I could go about coming back to train him when I could, but regardless I’d be leaving detailed instructions of what he should do and when; along with permitting HK to gently enforce my rules.
Of course, before we could go to Anzat, I had to gather up my oddball family and say goodbye to friends and lovers. Perhaps, if the timing was right, leave one or both with the gift they desired.
… …