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Remastered: Memoirs of a Mandalorian.


Gestahlt

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Preface:

I'm Gestahlt and for the past few years, I've been writing fan-fiction specifically dedicated to SWTOR. Memoirs of a Mandalorian was my largest project and leads into a very long story arc about Siana Daue, so if you like those kind of things then welcome aboard and if not, see you in a different thread.

 

For first time readers, I'll say this much: I learned about Mandalorians by writing through the eyes of one. You won't find this to be a Karen Traviss carbon copy, but you also won't find it to be without homage paid to a woman that, though controversial, did add elements to a previously empty archetype. Love her or hate her, she did that much.

 

For return readers, the remastered version is me trimming the fat or making certain parts shiny. You won't run into a "Koga shot first" moment, but I do intend to tweak and adjust certain scenes to better fit the vision I had at the end (since you know how it ends, anyway). Skim or read, up to you, but the experience should be a little different.

 

Anyway, I've rambled on long enough. I will probably do an update 1-2 times a day, simply because I have everything pre-written and I don't want to flood people that haven't read yet. Questions, comments, critiques - please, leave them.

 

I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

 

Part I -

01: Smile.

02: True Mandalorians.

03: Lineage.

04. Ambition.

05. Perseverance.

06. Blood and Honor.

07. End of an Era.

08. Verd'goten.

 

Part II -

09: War.

10: Stories.

11: Half Truths.

12: Bitter Medicine.

13: Half Kill.

14. The Ring.

15. Second Chance.

16. Taking Point.

17. The Struggle.

18. The Siege.

Edited by Gestahlt
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Chapter One: Smile.

 

I remember the first time I saw my father smile.

 

He was a strong man, by any standard of brawn and character. While the former seemed to me far more important for the majority of my life, I learned in later years that it was the latter which truly made a man worthy of praise or respect.

 

As with all Mandalorians, my father dedicated himself to whichever craft he had on hand. Were he to be given a blaster, he would be a marksman. Were he to be given a starfighter, he would have been an ace pilot. For three hundred years we had been without a Mandalore, which left us but with Mandalore the Preserver’s final command: persevere.

 

And so we did.

 

It took two centuries of Daue men and women to discover how best that might be accomplished, but it was my great-grandsire, Regimus Daue, that realized it was tilling the land that might provide us with the ability to survive in a changed galaxy. Centuries ago, our ancestors had lived by agrarian standards, and it appeared that the circle had come full term at last.

 

The was were over and our people were scattered; however, those of us that could find our way back to that true path did so with varying interest. From what I have been told or gathered from past accounts, Grandsire Regimus was a man that was in no way fond of the idea of farming; however, he did that which was necessary for our bloodline to persevere.

 

I have heard it said in passing that a Mandalorian is as good with a hoe as he is a blaster. Keeping in mind the number of shoddy farmers I have met in my day, I believe it would be safe to say that I’d rather those people be given chance to prove that adage true. In many ways, I believe, Grandsire Regimus fell into that category. He was the last of our family line to aspire to greatness through combat: who actively sought violence and thrived on chaos. Long before him Ancestor Roga had been killed in battle against the (in)famous Jedi general, Revan. Odd though it may seem to be an impetus to guide people through life, from Ancestor Roga to Grandsire Regimus, the men and women of Clan Daue tried to live by that example.

 

Thankfully, in the end, they gave up the pursuit.

We became farmers.

 

No doubt, part of my father’s strength must have come from his agricultural background. I never knew h im to be angry, violent, or even an unpleasant person. But when he was working in the fields; that was the only time that you could see he was content. Content, I believe, is the best way to describe my father’s disposition. Happiness seemed too excessive for him and apathy too dire.

 

He did not smile when he sewed the land with future bounty; he did not sing songs or even hum. He simply worked, and in working he completed that which he felt our family required; that which Grandsire Roga had set out for him. I would find myself at times marveling at his ability to so completely give himself over to the tasks at hand, and with each day hoped that I might have that level of dedication. I do not believe that even now, so many years later, that I have that ability.

 

Nor has any man or woman I have ever met since then.

 

On the day that my father smiled, we had been working harder than ever within our fields. Three weeks had come and gone without a droplet of rain; more importantly, there was none upon the horizon. Unperturbed by this, my father instructed us to continue planting and so we did. The rain, he said, was coming.

 

My fifth birthday had only recently passed. I was not so old as to doubt my father, but I certainly wondered why it was we were working so tirelessly without any relief from the drought in sight. Nevertheless, I, like everyone else, worked without complaint. There was never a cross word nor a thought to stop that which we were instructed to accomplish.

 

I believe that it is when working that a Mandalorian family is at its closest. In times past this was seen by tightly knit clans fighting against outside forces, but that was part of a legacy we did not inherit. The enemy was no longer Republic troopers or crafty Jedi, but weeds, insects, and all manners of destructive critters. I did not brandish a blaster, only a small hand shovel. There was no beskar’gam (Battle armor made from Mandalorian iron) to be found upon my body, only thread-bare clothing that my mother had created for my older sister long ago was now mine as I struggled to become the woman she was.

 

The others worked faster than I did; I have no shame in admitting that. Even with my fiercely loyal mutt at my side I could not do much more than dig holes and plant seeds at about half the pace that they were.

 

As I think back on it, the dog probably slowed me down more than he helped. He knew how to start digging; it was the stopping that he couldn’t quite grasp. But for whatever trouble that stray may have caused me, I loved him with all of my being. His name was “Bird”, and although he was larger than me then, he never seemed to realize that. Bird was my first true and loyal friend. In later years, he would also be my first true and loyal ally.

 

But I suppose that all that is important in mentioning him at this juncture is to say that we were a terrible team back then. Despite that, we worked our damndest to see our goals completed.

 

The benefit of youth is an indefatigable body and spirit. By the time that I had finished my work, I felt no different than I did upon waking upon. Bird and I raised across the fields and through the woods that shielded our home from the nearby Gao’Mi River. Knowing that he had no place inside of her home, my mutt gave me an affectionate lick on the cheek and then bounded off to wherever it was mutts went whenever their companions had no use for them. I, on the other hand, went inside, uniformed I n the grit and grime of a day’s work and feeling every the Mandalorian for it. The way that they looked at me when I came inside informed me that I had every right to feel that way, as well.

 

From my father to my mother, older sister Astra, and brothers Cassir and Polus, each looked at me with something far better than love. Their eyes were filled with respect.

 

 

We ate a healthy dinner that night. After we finished, my sister, mother and I cleaned up the dishes while my father and brothers made certain that the house would be secured for the evening. Even in times of peace, a Mandalorian’s mind is always preoccupied with what could happen, and the best way to prevent any negative outcome must be to be positively sure that all has been done to preclude those realities. When both sets of chores were done we once more joined and my father took to regaling us with another story of our ancestors.

 

It was a story I had heard before, but I loved it each time that he mentioned it. To us, our ancestors were the “heroes” of all times and though I am certain that they were greatly exaggerated over the centuries, they nevertheless still hold a great deal of importance as to how I view my role in this galaxy.

 

This evening’s story was of how Ancestor Roga and his brother Crussus the Strong managed to besiege a Republic prison camp and rescue their cousins and uncles from it. The Republic had been slovenly enough to rely on Onderon’s native beastmen to guard the camps; it only took a bit of distraction before the untrained beastmen were attacking the very shadows while Ancestor Roga and his brother led our relatives to safety.

 

Doubtlessly it is a silly thing to admit, but the characteristics that Ancestor Roga exemplified are that which I have looked for in men ever since hearing those stories: strong, resourceful, clever, and fearless. The ideal Mandalorian man: that which would be able to defend his people, clan, and family without a second’s pause. I now know that these men do not exist in reality; that every person has flaws and no person can truly live up to a lofty notion or an ideal, but as a girl all that I cared about was when I heard of Roga’s exploits, they made me feel joy.

 

My brothers and sister had heard these stories countless times and hardly seemed to pay attention to them. My mother was a quiet woman that concerned herself more directly with her family’s present situation than the past. This made me believe that the stories that my father shared; the ones that I devoured more ravenously than the food on my plate, were meant only for me. When considering that my father was a man of few words, having the notion that he spoke to me and me alone was far greater than any mundane affection other parents may have shown their children.

 

I went to sleep in a better mood that night than I usually did. The chirping of insects outside mixed with the cool wind that made its way through my window was a recipe for deep sleep, and I accepted it willingly after my long day of hard work. My sister and I shared a room and bed, greatly reducing the space needed for our family of six to fit into our small home. Nuzzled against her, I always felt safe. The difference between a Mandalorian woman and a Mandalorian man is purely one of physiology; given the chance to protect her loved ones, a woman will fight just as fiercely as a man if not more so.

 

Astra would have died for me and I for her.

As with all things, time would prove this to be true.

 

Normally, I could sleep from the moments my eyes closed until Astra called my name, but on that night I was awakened by something outside. It was a quiet sound that pulled at the inside of my mind and willed my eyes to open. Imagine, if you will, a string being placed within a person. Now have it tugged on, and continue to tug on it until the person moves without realizing that they were. That is the best way in which I can think to explain the sensation.

 

It continued until my eyes opened and even then, went further to encourage me to rise. Astra’s arm was over me, but when I shifted she did not awaken. I slipped out of bed and made my way out of the room and into the next. The feeling was so compelling that I followed it further still, until eventually I found myself standing at the door to our home and looking outside into the darkness.

 

It was the blackest night I had ever seen in my short life.

 

My natural desire was to turn and run back to Astra, but even at that age I was beginning to understand the self-reliance that Mandalorians are bred to exemplify. To turn away in fear was to act as a coward and to act as a coward was in no way to bring honor to the name Daue. I balled my little fists and moved out the door, not for a moment thinking as to why it may have been open. My walk came to a sudden halt when the sound of grass at my side being disturbed filled the air, and I froze up in terror.

 

The feeling of Bird’s tongue against my hand brought me out of my catatonia. I gave him a shy smile which he answered with a soft whine; together we set out to investigate just what the sound was that had so enraptured me. Understandably, a scared little girl became a bit braver when there was a mountain of a dog next to her. With my hand on Bird’s back we moved silently and with great skill until eventually we were at our fields. The darkness of the night was pierced then by a luminescent ray from the moon, which bathed our crops in its beauty and created such an awe-inspiring scene that I felt my breathe leave me. More startling than any of that though, was what was happening in the center of the field.

 

Even bathed in shadows and moonlight, I could make my father out. That tugging that I felt had brought me to him, and I was suddenly embarrassed that I had not been able to identify it sooner. It was his presence; his feeling that guided me to him. I watched him kneel in the middle of the field, his rugged appearance made just a hint softer by the moonlight as it washed over him.

 

He plunged his hand into the soft earth that we had previously tilled. When he drew it up, dirt and grit tumbled through his fingers as he held his hand to the sky. The clumps of dirt fell from his hand, describing a descent that seemed to tumble carefully and with purpose from his rough, sturdy hands. He did the same with the opposite hand, then placed both of his hands together and plunged them as a knife into the soft soil. I had no idea what he was doing and my first thought was to run over and ask him – but that presence told me to do anything but, so I remained where I was.

 

The sky slowly began to darken. Where once the moon had lorded over the crops, now did dark and fat clouds materialize. I drew closer to Bird, who looked up as though enraptured in the same manner that I was. We knew that the sky was clear before; where did the clouds come from? I looked back to my father and saw that he had lifted both of his hands to the heavens, from which a mighty crack of thunder emerged. Now, while I am quite certain that what I believe happened and what actually happened could be two different things, I can only speak to what I remember.

 

A beautiful ray of light descended from above. It was powerful and fierce, raw and mighty, and struck the ground with such force that a small breeze was created in the wake of its manifestation. Bird’s ears flattened; my fingers and toes curled. The flash of lighting lasted for but a third of a second but is emblazoned within my mind even to this day. I feared that it may have stricken my father, but what followed was so unexpected that I could not be bothered to move.

 

It began to rain. It was not simply raining – it was a downpour. Fat droplets of rain struck me with such force that I winced, and Bird let off a little groan. We both began to retreat from our voyeuristic position, but just as my feet touched against the now soaked ground, I saw my father stand and begin to turn about in the rain. It was then, with a few rays of moonlight still upon him, that I saw he was doing that which I had never seen before: he smiled. It was an expression far too beautiful for words, and I have lived my life hoping that I might see something similar before I expire. I have seen a star nova, in fact, and that hardly approached the brilliance of my father’s smile.

 

It was a breathtaking experience, shared between him and nature, and by proxy me for being fortunate enough to be there. I slipped then and fell, the splash of my fall enough to draw his attention to my direction. Far too frightened to see if he actually saw me, I turned and ran back to our home, with Bird plodding behind me. I will say this: I was a fast. Before I knew it I was back inside and Bird was panting next to me. It took me several seconds before I realized that Bird shouldn’t be panting next to me and I promptly kicked him out of the house despite his whining protests.

 

Dogs belonged outside. Daughters belonged in bed.

 

My mind was filled with the thought of my father’s smile, so stunning and unrestrained. I returned to Astra’s bed, soaking wet and covered in mud, but once more did not awaken her. Just as I had been pulled into awareness by the sensation that I couldn’t describe, I later learned that Astra could sleep through a volcano’s eruption so long as that eruption would not endanger any of her loved ones. I nuzzled back into place and received a squeeze from my sister for the effort. She gave me a soft snore of recognition and a murmured complaint, before slipping back into deep slumber.

 

I lay in bed, thinking over what I had seen. From my father’s odd actions to the smile that he had given. Each second that passed seemed to only replenish the image in my head, which kept me from forgetting just how wonderful it had been. I smiled in return to the thought. Perhaps one day, I would be able to make my father smile like that? Not even Cassir or Polus could claim that honor.

 

I am uncertain as to when I fell asleep, but I only know that I did. My dreams are also a mystery to me that night, but the reason for my waking was not. I felt something soft hit me in the face and was roused from my sleep with a start. Astra glared at me and hit me once more with the pillow, an action that caused me to wince before I rolled out of bed on the opposite side and looked at her with abject bewilderment. Her cheeks were red with anger and her eyes were narrowed. I actually thought that for a moment she was going to attack me. To my credit, I didn’t back down.

 

“Why are you hitting me?” I spat out at her, my confused and tired voice mixed with irritation.

She pointed at the bed. “You’re too krelling old to be having accidents in my bed, Siana!”

 

My embarrassment abated when I looked to the bed and saw what she was indicating. Surely enough there was moisture in the bed, no doubt a stay over from my running through the rain. I thought to explain away the events by saying that I had been outside, but I knew I would only get into more trouble for going out without another to go with me. I remained tight lipped on the matter and blushed.

 

“I’m sorry. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“You’re krelling right it won’t happen again,” Astra snorted before she threw the pillow at me. Even though it was a soft object she managed to weaponize it in that action and I staggered backward as I caught it. “Now change the bedding and for the love of the Preserver, you had better not tell me what that is on your legs.”

 

I looked down and saw that the mud had dried and caked. Although I couldn’t help but want to laugh I knew that doing so would gain me another of Astra’s glares.

 

“You’ll do my chores for a week,” she ordered. “Now go clean yourself up before mother sees you. If you make her angry then you’ll really make me angry.”

 

I didn’t bother to ask her the logic in her statement, I simply abided by her command. Bowing my head apologetically I scampered out of the room and toward the refresher. I could stomach the teasing Astra would give me for what she thought was my accident. I could do her chores without a complaint. Had she told me to wash her unmentionables, I would have even done that. Because while she may have thought she knew what was going on, she was absolutely oblivious. They all were. I had seen my father smile.

 

And no one could take that away from me.

 

“Disgusting,” she called after me.

“I know!”

Edited by Gestahlt
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Chapter Two: True Mandalorians.

 

In many ways, I am quite certain that people would not see my father as a “true Mandalorian”. Neither he nor my mother made any real effort to teach us the language, although when we would use slang to deride it, we were often reprimanded. I once made the mistake of telling a boy that he was a “moron’ika”, and when my father heard me he slapped me so hard in the mouth that my ears rang for two days after. It was odd to not be taught the language yet be forbidden from mocking it. In many ways, it made me resent Mando’a and the people that spoke it fluently all the more.

 

I understood certain words, naturally, but to use them would mean I would reveal myself to be all but a foreigner to the language. Things like ori-jate (“Very good!”) and k’uur (“Hush!”) were learned in passing, often from elders of the clan, but when I spoke them they came out more like songs than words and often time were stammered, or worse yet mispronounced. When a fellow Mandalorian heard me attempt the language they often developed a slightly embarrassed look, which in turn kept me all the more from wishing to speak.

 

According to my father, being a Mandalorian was about more than knowing a language. It was a way of life that transcended simple rules and went further still to define a man and his character. He informed us that if we wanted to be “true Mandalorians”, then we would act in a way to bring honor to the Clan Daue, and whatever we did would surely be what a Mandalorian would do. There were times when I wished that my father was more like the others, who fought and raised all forms of hell, but as I am now older I know that he had only one goal in mind: ensuring that the Clan Daue did not fade away as so many did around us.

 

I had very few occasions to see my father’s armor, and even less chances to see him actually wearing it. Once a year he allowed me to polish it with him, refitting and refurbishing parts of it that had worn as it waited to be adorned. There were times when I would see my mother and father look at their armor and then exchange glances, almost as though to relive something that I could never understand. I would later discover that there was much more to the youth of my parents than farming, but at the time I simply thought it was their desire to live out something they never could. Their longing gazes were never lost on me.

 

Although we did not exemplify every one of the actions in the resol’nare, or Six Actions, my father did make sure that we knew them. I had heard him several times speak Mando’a, usually with fellow clanmates, and although I always found the language ugly, I envied him for being able to. Still, whenever I brought it up to him he refused to teach me it. He said that like with many things in life, should I really wish to learn it then I would on my own. Like most people would do, I learned the “bad words”, but the joy in that was short-lived. The present condition of my family took precedence over it, and so I abandoned my learning almost as quickly as I began it.

 

I have never considered myself to be the ideal Mandalorian.

 

The first time that I can recall seeing my father wear his armor is when the twins Cassir and Polus were preparing for their verd’goten, a warrior’s initiation rites into adulthood. Although I will always consider Cassir and Polus to have been siblings to me, I believe it is necessary to point out that they were not blood relatives. Zabrak children that had been orphaned in a raid on their village, my father took them in and raised them as his own sons. He said that they were fortunate to have each other and so when the time for their initiation came, they were to complete it together.

 

My father’s armor was beautiful. Like many men of the Clan Daue he knew the secrets to smelting Mandalorian Iron and used the inner beauty that I knew was within him to create armor that simply defied words or explanation. As I think of him now, with the glistening, blue armor of his catching against the sunlight, I am moved to tears. How anyone could deny that my father was a true Mandalorian is beyond me, but to see him was to know that the might of Mandalore was not shattered even though its children may have been lost within the galaxy.

 

I often found myself watching Cassir, Polus, and my father practicing for the upcoming trials. I was seven at the time and growing ever closer to my own rites. I knew that once I became a true woman of the Mandalorian people, that I would be expected to do more than I was at that moment, but I could not help but be excited. My mother was an excellent teacher in many ways; I had once seen her throw my father in a demonstration of a self-defense technique, but although I loved my mother I did not particularly like her. She was my superior and I respected her, but there was something missing from our relationship that I have now come to understand as warmth.

 

Sala Daue was a cold woman. Far colder than any blade I have ever held in my hands. Her severity was a testament to her life though, and as I grow older I know that people will feel the same of me. Where my father was a quiet person, she was a silent one. Where my father was introverted, she was standoffish. I often wondered if she would have been happier without her children, but even as a child I knew that it was a foolish question. Without her children, a Mandalorian woman is nothing. The only way that we can persevere is if we continue to populate the galaxy, which means that severe women like my mother must produce young Mandalorians like me.

 

This was why the training that I went through, and that which Astra had already completed, were so vital for young Mandalorian women to understand. One day I would be the one teaching my children, and my husband would be preparing them for their eventual rites. I took pride in that idea even as a child, and could not wait until I was one day able to fight alongside my future husband, who undoubtedly would be far too good to be true. The same work ethic that had earned me respectful stares following our days in the fields was applied to my training, and I made certain that when the time came I would be prepared.

 

The night before Cassir and Polus were to undergo their rites, we all ate dinner early so that they could get additional rest before the big day. Although father did not make mention of it, I knew that he accepted less food so that his sons could have more. It was a silent sign of respect that I envied the moment I saw it – they were no longer children, they were going to be men. I am uncertain which of the twins I liked more, but I know it would be a lie to say I liked them equally. Cassir was a clever while Polus was stronger and quieter. Between the two a single powerful Mandalore could be made if only they had been born as the one and not two.

 

Father’s story that night dealt with Ancestor Roga and his duel with a Jedi Knight by the name of Valo Arris. It was one in a series of duels that would eventually culminate into an epic showdown; a story that showed how resourceful and bold the warriors of Clan Daue should be. While I had once sat in Astra’s lap during these story sessions, I had since grown too old to do so any longer. I was a young Mandalorian woman in my mind, and as such I had to present myself as one. Astra and my mother sat with their legs crossed: so did I. They looked intently at my father to absorb his every word: so did I. I may not have been able to learn Mando’a, but I would learn how to be a true Mandalorian.

 

“It was a misty evening,” my father began in his deep and rumbling voice. Cassir and Polus, who normally were more than eager to avoid stories of the past, nevertheless listened in. “The war on Onderon had been going well for the Clan Daue. Perhaps too well. The Republic, beaten and battered as it was, had turned to the Jedi for assistance. The Jedi, who time and time again sacrificed themselves needlessly to protect those that could not protect themselves.”

 

My father’s voice dipped a notch then. While I cannot speak for all Mandalorians, I can say that I have found the Jedi to be an extremely confusing aspect of our culture. We are supposed to hate them, this I know for a fact, yet by the same token we constantly seek them out and are defeated by them. Even Mandalore the Ultimate, who many view to be a man far larger than life, knew that he would eventually fall at the hand of a Jedi should they enter his war. I have been told that we are a masochistic people, but I do not know if that is entirely true.

 

Yes, we seek out defeat, but we do not necessarily covet it. My father’s views on the Jedi were never made completely clear to me, but he seemed to take offense if we dared to insult Revan or even Valo Arris. In his opinion the Jedi that Roga fought were honorable warriors, and so I suppose it makes sense that they should be respected. After all, if we were to demonize the Jedi that defeated our people, would that not in turn make us look all the more insignificant? It is something that has caused me pause on numerous occasions, and a question that even now perplexes me.

 

In any event, my father’s story continued. “Roga, along with Cassus, were stowed within the depths of the mist, waiting for the Republic and their saviors to cross their path. They had selected a path against a hill, permitting them excellent advantage over the Jedi when they finally arrived.

 

“They launched their attack when the Republic had nearly passed them by. Cutting into their middle, young and brave Mandalorians rushed forth to destroy their startled foes. As expected, the Republic fell apart at the first sign of combat. In the mist they could not see one another and like frightened children they could do little more than cry out and beg for help. By the time that the Jedi entered the fray their detachment had almost been entirely routed. But when the Jedi did enter the mix, oh… it was something to remember.

 

“They say that Valo Arris was a mountain of a man, a rarity. Most were little more than twigs; boys that swung glowing swords and used magic to defend themselves. He brandished a wicked lightsaber that cut through flesh as easily as it did the mist, and sent many stalwart Mandalorians to early graves. Roga, who knew that his men could well be slaughtered if the Jedi was not checked, sped forth on his speeder and met the Jedi in combat.”

 

This was always my favorite part of the story – it was the part that my mind played over and over regardless of how many times I heard it.

 

“Roga and the Jedi met in several clashes, vibroblade against lightsaber. Where one struck, the other parried. Where one thrust, the other dodged. Their speeders met and broke time and time again, each round becoming all the more impressive as they battled. It was not until Valo dismounted Roga that the two took to fighting on the ground, where once more they met in combat. Roga, summoning the courage of a Mandalorian champion fought with his every fiber against Valo, whose power came from their Force.

 

“While Roga and Valo fought, Crussus was hard at work finding a way to assist his brother. He saw his chance when Valo broke from combat to refresh himself and without warning, Crussus unleashed cover fire for Roga to take advantage of. There was no doubt that Roga would die if he continued to fight Valo, but he knew that if he did not find a means to stop him then all would be lost. He tossed a grenade toward the Jedi and ran for his brother’s position. Valo may have escaped the immediate blast of the grenade’s detonation, but by the time that it had cleared Roga was back amongst his men and the Mandalorians were retreating.”

 

And that was it. There was no miraculous victory. There was no great showing from Roga. In that he had not died while fighting Valo there was cause for celebration, but my father was never one to embellish a story. He could have said that Roga fought the Jedi to a standstill, but to what avail would that be? If nothing else, it would only further disgrace Roga by saying his actions were not ‘good enough’.

 

I now understand why it was that my father chose that story to tell on the eve of Cassir and Polus’ verd’goten. He wished for them to see that even against unlikely odds, two brothers were capable of standing against a dangerous foe. At the time I did not grasp that concept.

 

Unfortunately, neither did Cassir and Polus.

 

Cassir returned from his verd’goten. Polus did not. When I looked on Cassir, who had become a man in every sense of the word, I saw that he had changed. He was stronger, he was more driven, and he was also tinged with a sadness that I could not understand. I had lost a brother, yes, but I had not lost my twin. In later years Cassir told me that losing Polus was no different than having to cut off his own arm. The deeper meaning to that would be revealed to me shortly thereafter.

 

I wanted to cry when I found out that Polus had died. I wanted to throw myself down and demand that the news be taken back and proven not to be true. But at the age of seven, I did not. My mother did not cry; my sister did not cry. I could not cry.

 

The lesson that I learned from my brothers was a simple one and one that I still live by. One can live as a true Mandalorian. One can die as a true Mandalorian. Although Cassir passed where Polus failed, I never considered one more authentic a Mandalorian than the other.

 

Live or die, a person’s status as a Mandalorian does not depend on what someone else says of them. It depends entirely upon whether or not that person is willing to give their life for the pursuit of being a Mandalorian. Cassir was a true Mandalorian. Polus was a true Mandalorian. Astra was a true Mandalorian. My mother and my father were true Mandalorians.

 

I knew that when my time to be tested came, I would be a true Mandalorian as well.

That was what the Clan Daue needed, and I would never let my family down.

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Chapter Three: Lineage.

 

I never doubted that I was my father’s daughter. Mandalorians are known to adopt children in order to continue the culture, thus there are some families that are composed entirely of people that do not come from the same bloodline. Cassir and Polus were obviously not blood relatives, and Astra looked almost the spitting image of my mother. Even from an early age people noticed the striking similarities between my father and me. If I sat in quiet contemplation, I was told that I was making “his face”. I had only seen my father smile once, but I hoped that when I did, it was similar to his as well.

 

But there was more to our similarities than our personalities. Like my mother, Astra had hair that was as red as the dawning sun. My father and I both had brown hair, drawing a clear distinction between which parents we favored. Astra had a face that my mother once said was “meant to weep”. It was an odd thing to hear a mother say to her daughter, but she later went on to explain that those who were beautiful often found themselves trapped in untenable situations. Children would be born; children would die. Husbands would go to war; husbands would die.

 

I asked her if I would weep as well, and she replied:

“You will have disagreeable days.”

 

I was comfortable with that. In fact, I was a little relieved to know that the men of our clan would not be hounding after me as they did Astra. Although we all lived in a relatively close area to one another, there was little reason for we Mandalorians to travel to see each other unless a child had passed their rites, or perhaps a wedding was announced. For the most part we kept to ourselves, working in as peaceful a manner as possible, until one day a Mandalore emerged to galvanize us as they had in the past. This meant that when Astra began to come into her own, the young men of our clan had to concoct excuses to spend time around her.

 

It was amusing, if nothing else, to see her send away suitor after suitor. My father refused to intervene in the proceedings and on more than one occasion I had seen Astra physically expel someone from our property. She was a strong and fiery woman that naturally attracted the warrior spirits of our people.

 

But when it came to me, I was certain that I would forever occupy the synapses between passable and attractive. I was not the tallest of the girls my age, and I did not have any of the makings that one would usually associate with a desirable mate. Perhaps I was harder on myself because Astra was such a paragon of beauty, but at the time I compared what I had to what she did and found myself severely lacking. In the mind of a child, after all, it did not matter that I might one day mature into those traits. What mattered was that I had not to that point.

 

Had Polus not died, I believe that my parents would have been more dedicated to getting Astra to leave our home and start her own family. We never spoke of Polus’ death – in fact, when we did speak of him it almost seemed as though we were waiting for him to walk back through the door at any moment. Our memories were of the many times he would fluster himself while trying to keep stride with his brother, and although we laughed each sound was tinged with sorrow. I would often catch my father glancing at the seat that Polus had once occupied; his look no different than how he eyed his armor. Times past – things lost.

 

It was my mother’s decision not to push Astra out of the nest that truly surprised me. While my father may have been the head of our household, my mother’s presence was one that kept us moving. My father was the rooster that crowed as the sun rose to get everyone’s day started. My mother was the sun. But where she normally would have been the impetus that my sister needed to leave home, she was just as loathe parting with her daughter as my father was. I never heard them speak of it, but I knew that my mother’s silence was her way of holding on to her daughter. She did not want to lose another child. I did not want to lose another sibling.

 

At the age of ten, I was beginning to anticipate my own rites of passage into adulthood. Astra had passed hers, Cassir had as well. If I looked at it mathematically then I had a two out of three chance of not dying. Sadly, children did not think in terms of mathematically equations and to me the fact that one of my siblings had died was reason enough to be terrified. I used that terror though to train myself better and harder, and even once managed to throw Cassir who had been assisting me in close-quarter combat maneuvers. The look of astonishment on his face was testament enough to my aptitude. Far from embarrassed, he was proud that his little sister had been able to surprise him. We laughed after, though I saw no reprieve from his far greater expertise in the rounds that were to follow.

 

After one of the training sessions that I had, in which Astra and my mother showed me how to properly tend to assemble my blaster rifle without looking at it, we were informed that guests were on the way. As was previously stated while visits were not frequent they were also not so uncommon that it was a reason for alarm. As we all set to getting properly attired, my mother made certain to note that it would not be a situation in which Astra was being courted yet again.

 

Good, I thought. I couldn’t stand to see another gawking boy try his best to be a man!

 

My father and Cassir went out to meet our guests. They both wore their armor, as did my mother and sister. As the only member of the household that had not yet passed into adulthood I felt sorely out of place, but made no mention of it. The time would come when I was worthy of having my own set of armor. There was so much to admire about the armor of others. Each nick and scratch spoke of a battle; each charred mark that was buffered down meant that a near-death had been passed. The colors alone were beautiful: my father’s blue armor, my mother’s black armor, my sister’s green armor, or my brother’s red.

 

In times past, I had been told, the Neo-Crusaders of the Mandalorian Wars used the colors to designate a person’s rank, but as time had gone on that convention fell along the wayside. The armor became a more personalized aspect of the Mandalorian, and as such the colors designated their favored aspects more than anything about rank or position. I always cherished my mother’s armor the most; the metallic luster of the polished, black ore simply came across as intriguing to me. Perhaps when I was to make my armor, I would take note of hers.

 

As the youngest member of the family, I knew what my role in the upcoming meeting would be. I was to attend to the needs of others: to ensure that their stay in our home was as enjoyable as possible. When I was younger the duty was taken on with a great deal of pride, but predictably as I aged and grew closer to becoming an adult, I began to resent the people that made me handle their every chore. Regardless, I shouldered on through that frustration. More important than anything else was the need to look and act as a Mandalorian.

 

The sun was setting by the time that my father returned with our guests. Walking arm-in-arm with my father was none other than Uncle Valgor, my father’s older brother. I had few occasions to meet my uncle, but when I did I knew that I was to show him as much reverence as humanly possible. After Grandfather Dasius passed into the afterlife, it was Uncle Valgor that became the head of our clan. He was a very large man, taller than my father and with a presence that expanded as far as the eye could see. While my father rarely smiled, Uncle Valgor always did. The smile couldn’t necessarily be considered pleasant, but it was prevalent. Like my father, Uncle Valgor wore purple armor.

 

Further behind my father and uncle was Cassir and then a slew of men I had never seen before. Their armor was varied in colors, some bright and others dark. Each of them had the swagger of young Mandalorians though, eager to test themselves against the fires of an enemy that would never emerge. My father had dedicated his life to protecting our family; my uncle had dedicated his life to rekindling the fading flames of our people. Both men believed in their causes and respected each other not to enforce them upon the other.

 

All things considered, I liked Uncle Valgor.

 

While the men had been on their way back to our home, my sister, mother, and I found time to prepare an appropriately sized meal. People may have loved the romantic notion of Mandalorian heroes fighting through hails of enemy fire, but they also loved the idea of being able to eat a full meal without having cause to worry. We may not have been able to provide the former, but my father’s hard work and diligence ensured that we were never wanting for food. The men returned to a feast and I took special pride in knowing I had a hand in preparing it.

 

The adults spoke Mando’a for most of the evening, laughing and cheering over whatever tales they were sharing. Astra seemed to understand them more than I did, so I simply reacted to whatever she did. If she laughed, I laughed; if she smiled, so did I. The best thing that I could do was keep my head down and eat. I only truly had a reason to look up whenever someone slipped into Basic.

 

“She’s almost an adult now, isn’t she?” Uncle Valgor asked as he set down his cup. He sat at the head of the table, a position that my father usually occupied. I looked up from my meal and to my uncle, whose warm smile revealed that he had already been influenced by the spirits that were coursing through him. “Ge’vard, are you excited to become a warrior?”

 

Ge’vard or “almost-a-warrior”, was a title given to people in my position. We were no longer children, but we were not adults either. I looked to my father before I responded. He nodded slightly, so I spoke.

 

“Of course, [/i]ba’vodu’alor[/i],” I answered. I hated speaking Mando’a, and more importantly, putting those words together was about 60% of the Mando’a I knew. It was a bit of a puzzle: ba’vodu was uncle and alor was a leader. Uncle Leader? I was unsure if I had put the words together correctly or if they even made sense. Uncle Valgor gave me a smile and laughed. I assumed that he was amused if nothing else.

 

“I’ll never understand why it is you keep our language from your children,” Uncle Valgor remarked to my father. “In times past, that would be a very serious problem.”

My father frowned. “Times past are times past, brother. My children can learn the language if they wish to – I live to ensure that they live to make that decision for themselves. Nothing more.”

 

There was no trace of hostility on my father’s tongue and I knew that my uncle expected no less from him. I looked toward my mother, but found that she was as devoid emotion then as she always was. An uneasy silence was beginning to spread across the table then, and I was uncertain as to how to alleviate it. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed one of Uncle Valgor’s men looking at Astra, but her attention remained on her food. She was very good at ignoring the interests of others.

 

Uncle Valgor leaned back in my father’s chair. It creaked under the weight but did not falter. I always found it odd that Mandalorians could eat, sleep, or simply live in their armor. I could hardly remember when Astra first wore her armor, but in seeing Cassir I knew that it was an art form learned. Initially he shuffled and stumbled, but with time he had learned to walk and then run in it. Now he, like the others sat with ease. “Do you remember the times past, brother?”

 

“I do.” My father answered solemnly.

“And you, sister?”

“I do.” My mother answered just as coolly.

 

But I knew nothing of them. My father’s stories always dealt with distant relatives, never his personal exploits. I had always assumed that he was a farmer all of his life, but as my uncle mentioned it I could not help but look at my father’s armor. There were scars on it; scratches and burn marks decorated it just like everyone else’s. When we spent time polishing it, I had always assumed that they were simply there. I did not consider how they had come to be there. Without thinking, I spoke.

 

“Tell us a story, ba’vodu’alor?” The question left me before I could stop it. The others that were in attendance to our meal slowed in their eating and looked in my direction. I shrank inward but kept my eyes on my uncle, who in turn looked back at me with a degree of pensiveness not usually on his face. He cracked a grin and looked to my father.

 

“Valgor,” my father said in an almost warning tone.

“I know,” my uncle replied without needing to be informed of what was to follow. “I don’t think there’s any harm in telling your daughter about the first time you saw Sala, is there?”

 

It was very rare that my father was embarrassed, but when the comment came up he gave an almost worried look in my mother’s direction. The smile that she offered in response was cool and well-maintained, nearly as out of place on her face as my father’s look was on his.

 

“I think this is an excellent story to share,” my mother said.

Father shook his head. “I don’t.”

“I do,” Uncle Valgor said. “You’re outnumbered.”

 

“Your mother was a beautiful woman,” Uncle Valor began. His words were drawn to a quick halt when my mother cleared her throat.

“Was?” She asked, almost offended.

 

Uncle Valgor grinned. “Is,” he corrected. She nodded and so he went on. “So beautiful in fact that men from all over would come along just to have the chance of meeting her. Your father and I often would go out of our way to arrive at her doorstep, sometimes clearing dozens of extra kilometers just for the chance to speak with her. The way word carries it, the same can be said for one of her daughters?”

 

“Unfortunately,” Astra remarked. She caught the eye of one of the men that had been staring at her and glared. He broke eye contact with her and looked away bashfully. It took every ounce of self control that I had not to laugh at him.

 

Uncle Valgor chuckled and clasped his hands behind his head. “Now, you may be wondering why it is that if both your father and I would visit your mother that it was my little brother that ended up with her.”

 

“Father’s very charming?” I offered. My defense of my father only caused him to groan and shake his head. Uncle Valgor laughed.

 

“I wasn’t there for Sala at all,” he explained. “In fact, I was only there because…”

“Valgor,” my father protested half-heartedly.

Cassir laughed and chimed in. “He’s already brought us this far in the story, dad. You may as well let him finish.” My father shook his head and looked to my mother, whose chilly smile remained in place.

 

“Let me just say now that your dad, when he was a young man, didn’t have a competitor out there. I count myself lucky that we didn’t have to meet in the battle circle when our father passed.”

 

My father became uncomfortable with the praise. “I believe you overstate my prowess.”

“Only to cushion the blow,” Uncle Valgor replied.

 

“Your dad – the same one that could wrestle a boma into submission, or outshoot an assassin droid – was completely terrified when it came to speaking with your mother.”

“I wouldn’t say terrified,” Father complained. My mother’s smile broke as she spoke.

“I would.”

 

A thin layer of laughter emerged from those present. I looked between my mother and my father and for the first time saw them as they actually were – a couple, two people that were joined in more than the fact that they were together. I began to wonder just what they had been through together before we were born. Expectantly, I looked back to Uncle Valgor.

 

“Now, even though your dad was terrified of speaking to your mother, that isn’t to say he was any kind of coward. There were other guys that wanted the chance to speak to her, but the more of them that showed up the more that your father sent packing. I once saw him fight two men at once to keep them from approaching her.”

My father furrowed his brow. “You also didn’t mix in.”

“It was your fight,” Uncle Valgor cracked.

 

“Needless to say,” Uncle Valgor went on, “it was only a matter of time before your mother decided to take matters into her own hands. She wanted to get married and your dad was just chewing up every other contender that might have been a suitable choice. I personally think that every hut’uun that your dad licked wasn’t worthy of being with your mother anyway.”

 

Cassir took interest in that. I watched his face light up as he looked at our mother. “You would have married someone other than dad?”

“Of course,” she answered. “But your father made a more compelling argument than the others.”

Astra added in. “How’s that?”

“If you impatient whelps would give me a second, I’ll get to that.” Uncle Valgor shifted in his chair again and sat forward. He looked between my mother and father, who shared fleeting glances, before continuing on.

 

“One day your mother came out of her vheh’yaim and walked on over to us. You know what that is, don’t you?” I knew that he was speaking to me, so I absently nodded. At best I compared the word to shack, but I knew that wasn’t exactly correct. Not wanting to take up more of Uncle Valgor’s time, I did not ask for further clarification and so he continued.

 

“I’m going to spare you the details on how she walked, but I’ll just say she caught our attention immediately.” That bit of information was more than I needed to hear, but it made my mother offer a smile I’d never seen from her before. Small, quiet, and filled with pride. She was reliving the moment as Uncle Valgor spoke of it.

 

“We figured that this was it. Well, I hoped it was anyway – I had my own courtship to worry about. So she comes up to us. I can feel your father’s fear at this point; he was three-shades away from passing out.”

Father grunted. “Enough of that.”

“I’m just being an honest storyteller here, vod’ika.” My father’s disdain only made Uncle Valgor smile bigger. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think it was going to leave his face and become its own person at the rate it was growing. “Your mother came to a stop right before us. Looked at me. Looked at your dad. And before either of us could speak, popped him right in the nose. Broke it.”

 

At hearing that we, the collective children, looked up in amazement.

“He deserved it,” Mother said emptily.

“I did.” My father agreed.

 

“She said: ‘If you’re going to chase off every man that comes my way, then you had better be man enough to approach me on your own..’ I tell you this in all honesty; your mother was a scary lady. The same way that Astra has Cadim over there afraid to look at her, is the same way that she had your father.”

 

At being mentioned, Cadim, the young man that had been trying so desperately to draw Astra’s attention, all but lost the color in his face. He began to deny the accusation, but even as the words formed we were laughing so intently that nothing came out other than stammering refusal.

 

“Maybe he should take notes then,” Astra remarked humorlessly. I grinned at my sister and was rewarded with a sly one in response.

 

Uncle Valgor continued. “So your dad’s standing there, blood dripping from his nose, and looking into the angry eyes of a woman that he knew he was in love with. I was about to propose to her just to get him to muster up the courage to speak, when he said that he’d prove his love to her. Alone, he’d bring down a Republic shuttle and give her its cache. If he failed, he wouldn’t be worthy of her respect.”

 

I could see Cassir’s eyes widening as he heard the story. I knew that he was thinking of how he would impress his future wife; it was the same thought that I saw on the faces of most of the young men present. When Cassier spoke, I could almost hear doubt in his voice.

 

“Did he manage to do it?”

“Of course he did!” Uncle Valgor cheered. Mother’s smile became just a bit warmer; Father looked just a bit less embarrassed. “And that’s why we’re all sitting here right now. Back then, your dad was really a force to be reckoned with.”

 

“He still is,” I said, almost defensively. “Father’s the best shot that I’ve ever seen.”

“That, I do not doubt, ge’vard.” Uncle Valgor’s voice was steeped in an interest that I did not grasp at the time. “That, I do not doubt.”

 

The rest of the meal was completed with intermittent though empty conversation. In addition to the young man that had been introduced as Cadim, there were others that I had met before. There was a saying amongst Mandalorians that family is not defined by bloodline, but I was always mindful of those that shared a visceral ancestry with me. My cousins Ryk and Vasmus, for example, were each certainly of my blood. Ryk was tall and lanky; Vasmus short and stout. The majority of the other men were of varying familiarity, but as I did not know them already I attempted to remain out of their way. After eating there would be drinking and when there was drinking young men tended to act foolishly.

 

With the adults save for my mother now outside, I assisted in packing away whatever extra food we had to give to our guests. In our culture, supplying guests with rations was a great sign of respect and as Uncle Valgor was our clan’s leader, a good deal of pride had to be taken in ensuring that he and his company of young men were well taken care of. My mother and I rarely spoke directly to one another, more often than not because there was little we had to say. When it came time for training, I trained. If I had chores to complete, I completed them. But the sight of her smile was enough to draw me out of that routine, and as I finished tying off a package I turned toward her.

 

“Did you know that you loved father the first time you saw him?”

 

As surprised as I was to actually ask the question, Mother was just as surprised to hear it. She looked away from the food stuffs she was packing and gave me a look more akin to what I was accustomed to: pointed, cold. “Of course not,” she told me. “The first time I saw him, I thought he was an idiot.”

 

“You married someone that you thought was an idiot?”

“No. I married someone that proved to me that he was worthy of considering.”

 

The logic in her words was too earnest for me to deny and I nodded. I knew that the time for my marriage was not so far away that I should consider it a fairytale; however, it was not so close that I gave it serious thought. Just as my mother took once more to wrapping food, I spoke again.

 

“Do you think that Astra will ever find someone that proves her wrong?”

“You mean someone that she will want to marry?”

“Yes.”

“I should hope so.”

 

But there wasn’t much conviction in the words when my mother spoke them. Astra was her first born and as she had only given birth to two girls, that made her the most important child as far as I could tell. I never resented Astra because of my mother’s favoritism, and instead assumed that was the way it should be. She was much more like my mother than I was, anyway.

 

“Does she have to get married?”

“No one has to do anything other than die,” Mother said bluntly. “But if she wants to live a happy life, then yes she will have to become married. Women that run away from that fate end up old and alone.”

 

I busied my fingers by working on another parcel. “Is a woman’s only purpose truly to have children?”

My mother shrugged. “Some women don’t think so. Some think they can best serve their people in the battlefield, or acting as doctors or who knows what. I think that the best you can do is having children and making sure that they are raised as proper Mandalorians. The Six Rules agree with me.”

 

“But we don’t live by the Six Rules,” I pointed out.

“I said they agreed with me; I didn’t say they were why I felt that way. If nothing else, I’ve done that service to our people.”

 

In hearing these things, I was being shown a part of my mother that I never considered. I didn’t think of her as a happy person, but by her own admission she was. She believed we were proper Mandalorians – that I was a proper Mandalorian. “Do you think that I will ever get married?”

 

“Of course I do.” I’d never heard my mother answer a question so quickly, but after she did she looked pointedly at me. It was as though she was seeing me for the first time. “In a few years you’ll have grown into yourself.”

 

“And if I don’t?”

My mother set aside the last parcel of food and clapped her hands together.

“Some women are destined to end up old and alone.”

 

Those were hardly the words I wanted to hear. As an adult I can understand that my mother was telling me not to worry about “what if”, but as a child I took it as face value. She did not explain herself further and moved outside of our home to join the others. I fought the urge to cry, thinking that I had been cursed with being ugly, and after managing to get my emotions in order, I followed after her.

 

Bird the Dog was the first one to notice me; I believe because I still smelled like food and had the highest yield of giving him it when he begged. Feeling all sorts of awful, I patted him on his head and looked about the gathered people. How could I possibly die alone when I had so much family? My father would always love me; Cassir and Astra would always be there for me. I knew that Astra would never marry either, because unlike the others she understood that the men we were destined to be with had died long ago – the gallant champions of father’s stories.

 

I wandered out further away from our home and saw that Father and Uncle Valgor were in the middle of conversation, my mother completing the picture as she accepted a drink from a younger Mandalorian. Cassir spoke with a few of the other young men, no doubt sharing with them stories of his verd’goten. I did not wish to disturb either of them, so I went further still until I saw that Astra was watching two men currently in the middle of a grappling contest. Bird the Dog and I came alongside her.

 

“You and that horrible mutt,” she muttered as we took our position. Despite her grumping, she gave Bird a pat that he returned by lapping at her hand. As with the other adults, she held a bottle of ale in a hand. She looked at me and I believe saw that I was still distressed over whatever mother had said to me. “What’s the matter, sis?”

 

“Nothing,” I lied. “Can I have some of that?”

 

Astra looked as though she was ready to deny me the request, but after she glanced in mother’s direction she handed the ale over. “One swig.” I complied with her directive.

 

I’ve never liked beer, but it seemed like the ‘adult’ thing to do at the time. The moment that the bitter fluid was in my mouth I wished that it wasn’t, and as a novice to drinking I made the single mistake that everyone does – I forced myself to swallow rather than spitting it out. Surely enough, the beer went down the wrong pipe and I was suddenly coughing into my hand. My face was flushed; Bird even yipped to draw my attention.

 

Astra took the beer back and chuckled. “You’ll get used to the taste eventually.”

 

“Ugh,” I protested as my voice returned to me. “I hope not!”

 

We continued to watch the men grappling. One of them was a man whose name I did not know, but the other was Cadim. His fiery red hair stood out against the night as he fought to overwhelm his opponent. While I did not think he looked like much of a man when he was sitting, when he fought there was a good deal of intensity that sprang out into the air. It made him seem much more masculine.

 

“Why are they fighting?” I asked.

“They believe that the winner will have the honor of marrying me.”

 

My eyes widened. “Astra.”

“Of course I won’t marry him,” she laughed.

 

“Then why are you letting them do it?”

“Because I’ll give the winner the chance to prove to me he’s worthy of being considered.”

 

The words so closely mirrored Mother’s that I could not help but look back in her direction. She had a hand on Father’s shoulder, a rare laugh leaving her at the behest of something my uncle said. I did not want to imagine that one day Astra would be like that with Cadim or anyone else. If Cassir left with those young men, or if Astra married Cadim, who would I be left with? Bird?

 

In the middle of the gathering, surrounded by all of my family, I came to understand something.

 

I, Siana Daue, was already alone.

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Chapter Four: Ambition.

 

Uncle Valgor and his men remained with us for an additional three days. Throughout it, I would often see my uncle attempting to convince my father of something, but never had the courage to approach them and find out what it was. After my revelation that I was effectively alone amongst my family, I entered a predictable depression that greatly caused me to retreat from those around me. No longer was I a part of their general collective: I was an observer watching their lives progress from the outside.

 

Despite Astra’s protestations in regard to Cadim and his attractiveness, the two began to spend more time together. I was so used to seeing Astra reject men out of hand that when I saw her smiling at what one said, I felt personally betrayed. There was no doubt that she would one day leave me to be with him, and that I would be that much closer to losing even the tertiary comforts that I might have taken in knowing she was close by.

 

With Bird the Dog as my only true companion, I tried my best to remain out of eyesight. My training did not end simply because we were entertaining guests though, and as expected some would watch as my mother instructed me in some of the more advanced techniques that a Mandalorian should know. Begrudgingly I complied with her directive to ignore the others and focus only on her. I still had a bit of anger with how she’d spoken to me last night in my system, and mistakenly I believed that this would in some way further hone my acuity.

 

As my mother was quick to show me, it did anything but.

 

I’ve often heard of people saying how they enter “berserker rages”, or any number of foolish notions that place the concept of losing oneself in the fight as a positive trait. I do not doubt that there are more experienced, better, and smarter fighters than me in the galaxy – I have had the privilege of meeting several of them and living to talk about the encounters – but one thing that I know for certain is that anyone that allows sheer anger to drive them will end up losing more than they gain. This lesson was almost driven home for me when my mother came within a hair’s breadth of breaking my arm after I attempted to muscle through her defenses. Worse yet, after she released me from the hold she told me to try again. It was hardly my most impressive day of training.

 

The session could have gone longer, but I suppose that my mother did have some sympathy in her heart. After it ended, I retreated back to my tree and sat beneath it, a hand as always positioned on Bird’s back. The more that I thought over the session the more that I wanted to cry, but in crying I knew I’d only further shame myself which made me even angrier, and thus made me want to cry all the more. It was a vicious cycle that placed piping hot tears in my eyes, waiting for the chance to fall but refusing to do so.

 

The last person that I wanted to run into that day was Cadim, but as fate would have it he was just the one to approach me after the showing. He always seemed ready to give some form of shy smile, a quality that may have been endearing if I didn’t detest him, and with my arm now overwhelming me with pain I had little occasion to suffer him beyond the most impersonal of greetings. Sulking and angry, I wiped my eyes before nodding.

 

“Your mother’s a real fighter,” he said with what I supposed was his most personable grin. When I only glared at him, he increased it even more and proved me wrong in my initial assumption. “When you make that face, you look just like your sister.”

 

I bristled under the sound of his voice. “Are you going to marry me too?”

 

My question was spoken without any hint of levity, yet he chuckled in the face of it. I tried my best not to look at him; shame and anger did well to prevent me from being able to do anything other than grump.

 

“I wouldn’t worry too much about that. She won’t let me get more than three words in edge wise.”

“She usually won’t let anyone get more than one in. You’re three times as lucky as the others.”

 

Again he laughed. “You’re quick with numbers. Siana is your name, right?”

I didn’t answer him. He stepped closer and then knelt across from me. Bird’s eyes opened and he gave him a warning growl, but did not rise. Most people would have backed away from a dog the size of Bird growling at them, but Cadim patted him on the head.

 

To my surprise (and chagrin), Bird didn’t bite him.

 

“You have an amazing dog. Strong, loyal. If this is the kind of man you end up looking for, I’m pretty sure you’ll be even harder to please than your sister.”

 

“You don’t believe that you’re strong or loyal?” I asked the question with a feigned degree of innocence, but after it escaped me so too did a little glare. Cadim chuckled and took his hand away. “Why do you keep laughing?”

 

“Because I know what you’re going through – it’s what I went through a few years ago when some di’kut was sniffing after my sister.” The word that he chose di’kut was one of the few ‘bad words’ that I knew. It translated at best to ‘idiot’, and whereas I would have never used it, I did not see a reason to disagree with it being applied to Cadim. I must have smirked just a little, because he grinned even more. “I thought he was a real shabuir.”

 

“What’s that?” I asked. I was still angry, but Cadim had a way about him that did encourage you to let down your guard. Still holding onto a bit of rage, I refused to look directly at him or give him the satisfaction of seeing me smirk again.

 

“It’s like calling someone a jerk, but a lot meaner.” He paused then and looked gave a clever smirk. “I don’t know if you know anyone that would fill that role?”

“I can think of someone.” I chimed. Cadim laughed again.

“I bet you can.”

 

I could feel even more of my anger dissipating and it almost distressed me. I was supposed to hate Cadim because he was taking away my sister, but with each word that he spoke I found that he was easy and fun to talk to. His voice was smooth and gentle, yet at the same time strong in the way that Bird was. It was like hearing someone say in the nicest way possible that they would be able to protect you, and at the same time knowing that it was true. I hated it. I hated that I liked him.

 

“I really admire the life that your family has carved out here,” Cadim said as he sat down and petted Bird again. This time, Bird did not even attempt to growl at him. Apparently he liked him too.

 

The concept of admiration was not something I had ever heard from others in regard to our family. Amongst the Clan Daue we were an extreme: if not for the fact we were directly related to Uncle Valgor I believe we might have even been persecuted to a degree. While Grandfather Regimus’ decree was minded by all, none had settled down quite in the fashion that we did. They were nomads, moving from location to location – we were settlers, producing from year to year.

 

So to be told someone admired us was not only startling, but confusing. I could only think of one thing to say.

 

“Why?”

 

“Well,” Cadim began with a pause that told me he was either thinking of how to best say what he felt, or how to best lie. I was overly critical of him then and looked up to see if he gave away any tell-tale signs of deception. When he spoke, I noticed that he did not appear to be lying. Perhaps he was just very good at it. “You know what you will eat tomorrow and where you will sleep. Your dad’s done a lot to make sure that you can live like this, and it’s a goal to aspire to.”

 

“Aspire to?” I asked the question as though he had told me Bird had five legs. “If you want to be a farmer all you have to do is start tilling the land.”

 

Cadim smiled softly. “It takes more than that, Siana. Your dad earned his place in this clan when he was my age. If I tried to do it now, I’d be cast out – be declared dar’manda.”

 

My father had earned his place? I knew absolutely nothing of his childhood. In fact, the story about my mother breaking his nose was the only glimpse I had into the fact that they weren’t always married. Curious as I may have been about what Cadim meant, I didn’t want to reveal that I knew less than him about my family. I instead focused on the tail end of his sentence, the word that he said with such derision and contempt.

 

Dar’manda, those that were no longer considered Mandalorians. In many ways he was correct and my family should have probably been cast out, but it had never been brought up to us and I never feared that it would be. Whether we were seen as ideal Mandalorians or not, we knew that we believed in the Mandalorian way and lived to ensure that it was continued. But with what Cadim had hinted at, I had to wonder whether or not we would have been outcast if not for my father’s exploits, whatever they may have been.

 

“How are you going to earn your place, then?” It was the most oblique manner I could think of bringing up what my father may have done without admitting that I did not know. Cadim leaned back against his hands.

 

“Fighting, mostly. Your uncle has some revolutionary ideas and I think that if they’re given legs, they may take us into a new era of Mandalorian Society. That’s why he came here – to ask for your father’s help in seeing it come to life.”

 

“Revolutionary ideas?” I repeated the phrase cautiously. “What are you talking about?”

 

Cadim hesitated. I saw it in his eyes more than on his face. “Probably better if I let your uncle bring that up tonight. All I can say is that when it’s all said and done, I hope that I deserve a family like the one you have – like the one your sister deserves.”

 

He meant those words. I could hear it; I could see it. There were a lot of Mandalorian men in the galaxy and most of them were good, but the few that I had come in contact with generally had an obnoxiously jocular nature to them that made me think they saw their wives as nothing more than components in their legacy. Cadim seemed to care about Astra and while I hated him for what he wanted to do, I did not hate him for who he was.

 

“Do you know why I named him Bird?” I asked the question to end the silence that was settling over us. Cadim nodded.

“I was wondering it just now, actually.”

“Really?”

“Nope. But now I am.”

 

I almost felt a giggle leave me. It almost made it out of my throat before I wrestled it back down. “It’s because when I found him, he was in a tree.”

 

Cadim’s laugh said all that it needed to. He thought I was telling a story!

 

“It’s true,” I protested. “He was in a tree!”

“How, in the name of the Preserver, could a dog get up a tree?”

 

I clapped my hands together and then expanded them. “By flying, of course! That’s why he’s Bird the Dog!”

 

While I had thought that Cadim’s voice was smooth, when he laughed it was both rich and charming. I instantly understood why Astra liked him, and furthermore, felt that I did just a little bit as well! He had tears in his eyes by the time he finished laughing, and I could not help but giggle just a bit in response to his mirth. It helped me forget my anger and shame; it helped me forget that I was supposed to hate him.

 

In the blink of an eye, I had come to like Cadim.

 

We continued to talk into the evening about things that ranged from the nonsensical to the obnoxious. Cadim was not much older than Astra, but had already taken part in several tribal conflicts. His stories weren’t told with the same depth as my father’s, but they had a level of personality to them that worked well with his general vibe. I’m sure that it isn’t difficult for a person to imagine a young girl developing her first hopeless crush, so I’ll skim over those details and instead say that I liked him very much. Particularly when he would try to sneak a lie into the middle of his stories.

 

“You’re lying,” I would say with an almost serious edge to my mirthful outbursts. “That didn’t happen!”

Cadim, always surprised when he was caught in his fib, protested spiritedly. “Wait, so you believe that I could defeat a wookie in a wrestling match, but not that I could make him say ‘uncle’?”

 

“Of course not.” I challenged amidst my laughter. “Maybe you can beat a Wookie, but you can’t make one speak Basic!”

“Well, he said it in Shyriiwook, then!”

“You can’t change the story. Now I can’t believe any of it. You’re such a liar!”

 

It was embarrassingly silly, but in that conversation I found myself liking Cadim more than anyone I had ever known in my life. By the time that we were finished laughing, it took all of my self control to keep from hanging off of him girlishly as we made our way back to the house. Bird, who normally walked beside me, made an effort to walk between us so that he could be near the two people he liked.

 

When we entered the house, I could feel that something was different. Outside many of the men that had come with Uncle Valgor were sitting on the porch or on the grass, while a few more were inside the house. Astra was on the outside of the happenstance meeting, so I stood beside her. I did not mind that Cadim stood on the other side of me. Without knowing it, I had done exactly what Bird did outside.

 

In the center of the room, my father and mother sat opposite my uncle. Father’s face was drawn as ever in a contemplative manner, while Mother was stern yet supportive in her presence at my father’s side. Cassir was still closer to them, a designation that filled me with wonder. Just what was going on?

 

Astra looked between Cadim and me and gave a little nod. I returned it and instinctually took her hand. The small squeeze she gave it reassured me, if nothing else.

 

“Times are changing, brother,” Uncle Valgor said. His voice was no longer as merry as it had been before, but there was a depth to it that implied he was not being critical – serious, but the meeting wasn’t hostile. “Grandfather Regimus did the best that he could for his generation. He ensured that our clan wasn’t swallowed up into the pointless fighting that decorated the galaxy. We’ve grown stronger since then; bolder and more numerous. Clan Daue is now one of the largest Mandalorian clans in this part of the galaxy.”

 

“And if we do what you wish, brother, that will soon change.” My father’s voice was just as strong as my uncle’s, his conviction not at all folding under the pressure from above. “Pointless fighting will only further divide our people and shatter our base.”

 

Uncle Valgor lifted a hand as though to command the room. “This is far from pointless, Decimus. All over the galaxy, other clans are solidifying power bases. If Clan Daue does not move now to secure its position, then we run the risk of being consumed by the malicious chaakar that are already galvanizing.”

 

The news that was being discussed was important, but I was just happy that I knew what chaakar meant. “Bastard” was a good thing to know how to say to someone, after all.

 

“Answering their violence with more violence will only increase the power of the storm,” my father replied. “The best way to prevent this from spreading is to keep our heads down and wait for these hounds to tear each other apart. When a Mandalore is named –“

 

Uncle Valgor snapped his fingers. “Brother! When a Mandalore is named? How long has it been since we have been without one? The Preserver told us to persevere, did he not? We will be swallowed in this storm if we don’t move against it first. In this system we are more or less established, but there are still contenders for our ancestral holdings. Clans Vace and Hundar are already mobilizing against one another. The victor of that conflict will be poised to move on our territory.”

 

Mandalorians fighting Mandalorians? While I knew that it was not an impossible notion, it was one that I did not expect to hear about. In our home it had always seemed that the world was steady and calm. What my uncle was saying implied anything but.

 

“What are you proposing, aliit’alor? That we wait for the victor to be announced and attack him while he is weak?” My mother’s inclusion was without any sign of support, but also lacked derision.

 

Uncle Valgor took her question at face-value. “No. To do that would leave us fighting against an enemy that knew we were coming. What I am saying we do is ally with Clan Vace. They’re the likely loser in the competition and will need more assistance. Once Hundar is removed, we can turn on Vace and be rid of them as well.”

 

“Treachery,” my father muttered.

“Logical,” my uncle answered.

 

Mandalorian honor was not something that was earned by being conventionally “honorable”. Treachery was fine so long as it was done to a positive end: if you betrayed someone and advanced, more the better for you. You deserved the victory because they were foolish enough to fall for it. Of course, failed traitors were treated as dogs and often cast out. It was a high stakes game to play. Like all high stakes games, it meant either big winnings or horrible losses.

 

“Our brave men are ready to meet with Vace now and offer them support. But there are others in Clan Daue that look up to you, brother, for what you did in the past.”

 

“That was a life time ago, Valgor.”

“But its effects are still being felt!”

 

Another reference to my father’s past. I looked up to Astra, who gave me a slightly worried look. If she knew what they were talking about she did not reveal it to me, buts he did squeeze my hand again. I was glad to have her there. I was also glad that Cadim was.

 

“I cannot give you support on a cause that I do not believe to be right,” my father stated.

“If I were your Mandalore you would.”

 

It was a statement that nearly robbed the room of its breath. Although my uncle had not declared that he was seeking the title of Mandalore, even I knew that it was being implied.

 

“You are not my Mandalore, brother,” my father stated.

“I am not your Mandalore,” my uncle repeated. “Yet.”

 

And there it was; the confession that would remove all doubt from the room. While the title of Mandalore generally came with the ceremonial helmet, there were those that dared to gain the right through brute strength and aggression. It rarely ended well for the person to begin the movement. I now understood what Cadim had been speaking of earlier. I looked up at him and he nodded his head. This was the revolutionary idea.

 

“Times have truly changed, brother. The stakes are higher than ever. Whoever wins these skirmishes; whoever claims these victories will become the most powerful Mandalorian in the galaxy. His will shall be that of the Mandalore.”

 

“You covet too much,” my father warned. “You climb too high. Brother, this violence will consume you and everyone that follows after you!”

 

Uncle Valgor stood, the room’s eyes moved with him. “Do not pretend that you never wanted this for Clan Daue. I heard the words come from you before. You had a vision; foresight and a tactically sound plan!”

 

“As I said, that was a lifetime ago. I was a foolish boy.”

“And what has truly changed between then and now?”

“I do not wish to be a foolish man.”

 

The tempers in the room were flaring and my father was not backing down. I knew that if much more was said then there would be no way to avoid the two men coming to blows. I wanted to do nothing more than stop them, but as little more than a child I didn’t have the position to speak out. Even Astra, who seemed just as concerned as me, dared not leave her position.

 

“I will go with him.”

 

The statement came from a source I did not expect to hear from; a source that I’d never have imagined would speak out in opposition to my father. Sala Daue, my mother, stood. “Siana’s training is near completion. If you will accept me, aliit’alor, I will serve you. I may not have my husband’s support, but there are members of our clan that will answer my call to battle.”

 

It was a bold move, but my mother had found a way to wedge herself between the two brothers. She was right; there was not much more that I could learn from her and she did not seem ready to have yet another child. This meant that for the first time in a long time she was without any direct duty to her children, which freed her to act as a warrior. Uncle Valgor hesitated at the suggestion, not because he doubted my mother’s prowess, but because he had not expected her to speak out anymore than I had.

 

“Sala,” my father began, but did not finish. They were partners after all; it was not that he ruled over her or she him. “This is…”

 

“What I should do,” she finished for him. She looked squarely at my uncle. “Will you accept me into your ranks? Though I am older than I once was, I am also more experienced – wiser.”

 

Uncle Valgor found his voice. “Please, sister, you’d never need to sell your worth to me. I can see that you’ve kept up with your training; these children each speak to your aptitude and I doubt they’ve even a fraction of it. You are correct, if you were to join, more of the conservatives might agree with our vision.”

 

Cassir stood up as well then. “I want to go with her. Uncle Valgor’s right; if we don’t strike out now, we’ll only be swallowed up in the abyss.” I understood why he said it immediately: he wanted to receive the same kind of acclaim that my mother had. Since losing Polus I had not seen him appear more driven than he was in that moment.

 

Although my uncle may have been an ambitious man, he was not a cruel one. “I will not force a son to disobey his father’s desires.”

“But I’m a man in my own right!”

“And still his son.” Uncle Valgor’s voice was stern.

 

I looked at my father’s face then and for the first time saw that he was without an answer. He wanted to stop Cassir, I know, but Cassir had become a man and deserved the right to win his own acclaim. Likewise, he wished to stop my mother but she was doing what she believed was right. I saw his eyes flit toward Astra, and glanced up in time to see her demurely shake her head. She would not be going with them. That was perhaps the only comfort he could take from the incident.

 

“Cassir is right. He is a man,” he conceded with pain on his voice. “If he wants to fight for Clan Daue, I will not stop him. I do not need to speak to my wife’s decision, as that is her own.”

 

It was a complete defeat for my father. If he offered himself in the place of either my mother or my brother, he would be implying that they were less capable than he. If he changed his mind and went as well, he’d be showing that he was wrong in the first place. My father was no saint: he had pride, just like any man. With his hands tied by the circumstances he simply allowed things to progress as they would.

 

“We’ll be leaving for Vace territory in the morning then,” Uncle Valgor said. “If you change your mind, brother, you will be my right-hand.”

 

“May your exploits bring honor to Clan Daue,” my father answered in what I supposed was his least offensive manner. Uncle Valgor left, followed by most of the men that had been with him. Cadim gave my sister a meaningful glance and then patted me on the shoulder before leaving as well.

 

No one moved for several moments. I looked at Cassir, who seemed uncertain of himself, to my mother who was entirely sure of what she had done. My father’s grim reservations acted as the perfect division between them.

 

My mother broke the silence when she looked to Astra. “Siena’s training is nearly completed, as I said. I expect you to see her through the rest of it.”

 

“Of course, mother,” Astra replied. I could hear a small degree of sadness in her voice, but she kept it from her face. I squeezed her hand just a little bit more. “I will teach her everything that you taught me.”

 

The room began to approach silence again and I could think of nothing to say. Should I hug my mother? Should I congratulate Cassir? Should I comfort my father? They were all so very different in their mindsets. Why couldn’t we go back to the fields and till the land? That was simple. It was easy.

 

It was the way I wanted life to be.

 

“Sala,” Father said her name as he stood up. “Valgor’s being a fool. I know that you gave him your word, so I can only ask you –“

 

“Take care of Cassir,” she finished once more for my father.

“And yourself.”

 

There was something unspoken between them that I could see but not understand.

 

“Siana, Cassir – help me prepare the provisions for your travel. The weapons should probably be treated before sending everyone off.” Astra’s tone was a bit tighter then, as though she were trying to mimic my mother’s. Cassir nodded and moved toward the cache; I followed once Astra started to move.

 

We had always been diligent in keeping our weapons in vintage condition, which made me suppose Astra just wanted us to busy ourselves with something or another. Half way through cleaning out the stock of a blaster rifle I remembered that I had forgotten one of my spanners upstairs. I went to retrieve it and witnessed something that I had never seen before.

 

Mother and Father were still standing in the middle of the room, but they no longer were at an arm’s length from one another. My mother’s head rested on my father’s shoulder; my father’s arms were around her. I watched them hug for an entire minute before I realized that they were not closed to finishing. It was the first sign of affection that I had seen openly between them, but even as a child I knew they were doing more than embracing.

 

Sala and Decimus Daue were saying goodbye to one another.

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Chapter Five: Perseverance.

 

I imagined that if the land could cry, it did so when my mother and brother left with Uncle Valgor’s regiment. That morning we awakened at the same time that we always did and made certain that everything was in order. The night before we had worked nearly into the early hours of the morning to ensure that everything was in place, but in gathering to piece over them once more we gave ourselves a little more time together. It would be the last time that we were all together for quite some time, after all.

 

Cassir promised me that he would send regular updates once they were established in Vace territory. To hear him speak of the future it sounded as though he expected to become a champion in his own right. Considering all of the time and effort I had seen him put into his training I did not doubt it, and told him that if he became lazy in sending me updates I would hunt him down and beat him. It was an empty threat that displayed affection more than anything else, and after I said it I made certain to hug him. Young Mandalorians did not have very high life expectancies.

 

Following Cassir’s well-wishing, I was given a chance to address my mother. Four days prior I had believed that I hated her, but as I looked at her standing there with her glistening black armor and her repeater slung over her shoulder, I realized that I loved her more than words could express. She was, after all, the woman that had given me life. Even in our most bitter of times she cared for me and protected me. I wanted to smile at her, but I found that the courage to do so was buried deep within my heart. The thought of hugging her was all but forbidden.

 

She stared at me. I stared at her.

And that was all there was to it.

 

“Make sure that she remains diligent in her training,” my mother said to Astra. The nod that she received was all the affirmation she’d require. I recalled that I had seen Mother and Father embracing the night before and wondered if I would again. They shared nothing more than a look, a nod, and with that my mother was walking off with Cassir in tow.

 

I did not know what it was, but something told me I would never see her again. I tried to muster up the courage to hug her one final time; to tell her that she was everything I wanted to be, but it was not there. Astra’s hand fell to my shoulder and I turned toward her and cried. There was nothing more to say of the matter.

 

It rained for nearly two weeks following the departure of Mother and Cassir. In that time, Astra informed me of the very real fact that Mother was not the fiercest taskmaster around. When I trained with her in the past she had always known just when to stop to prevent me from injuring myself. I suppose it made sense – she had trained three children before me. Astra on the other hand had never before had anyone follow her word and so I was as much a test for her as she was for me. Unfortunately, regardless of which one of us failed I was the one to feel the pain of it.

 

The rain was too bloated to farm, so my father remained indoors. He tried his best not to show us his sorrow, but when I came trudging inside in need of some form of medical assistance, I often caught him looking at where mother’s armor had once sat next to his. Stubble was forming on his chin already and he made no effort to shave it away. I had the good fortune of having a brutal drill instructor to occupy my time: my father had only his memories to fill the void between waking and sleeping. We no longer shared stories when dinner time came; there were no longer trips into the field in the middle of the night. Until my mother returned, it was as though my father had gone with her.

 

To Astra’s credit, there was ingenuity to my sister’s madness that would have been admirable had I not been the one to suffer through it. Each morning she awakened before I did and left to complete some task of another. It was not until the following week’s end that I was given witness to it. No longer was it raining but my father still had no desire to till any land. When I left in the morning he was sitting in his chair: when I returned at night he was still there. It was on a morning that I left that Astra revealed to me what she had been creating.

 

I had never seen an obstacle course before, but once I did I understood what it was. If a fish sees water, it knows to swim: if a bird is pushed out of a nest, it knows to fly. Astra’s clever machinations had created a rudimentary though functional course that would have me climbing, jumping, swinging, or vaulting. The trees near our home had been repurposed for this and in all, I knew that I had a good deal of work to complete before I was going to be able to accomplish my task. On top of the combat training, marksmanship, and survival lessons I had, the obstacle course introduced problem-solving and endurance.

 

My sister was trying her damndest to ensure that I became the ideal Mandalorian.

 

I hated her for it.

 

The days following Uncle Valgor’s march were the hardest of my young life. I awoke in the morning, prepared for my ever-approaching verd’goten by doing calisthenics with Astra, worked the fields with her until midday, and then returned to preparing for my verd’goten with one of the several training routines she had for me. When she fought she did not hold back; when we practiced shooting she did not give me easy targets; when I had to track something she made sure to leave almost no clues behind. Each day that I went to bed I was exhausted, and each day that I awoke I was sore. Through it all though, I kept a single concept in mind. I had to persevere; we all did.

 

One day, perhaps it was because I looked as though I was ready to collapse, Astra said that we could go swimming for our daily routine. Any that have been forced to choose between running six kilometers or having the chance to swim should know that even though both are aerobic, one of them is a treat. Although Astra made certain to have me brave some of the stronger currents initially, by the time that we normally would have been ramping up my training she allowed it to taper off. She wanted to relax. So did I.

 

“Are you going to marry Cadim?”

 

I don’t know why the question escaped my lips, but it did. Perhaps it was the mixture of fatigue and soreness, or the fact that he had been on my mind nearly as much as anything else. I was aware enough to give a negative twist to my tone, but the way that Astra smiled revealed that she either did not hear it or did not care about my perceived derision.

 

“Now why would you ask a silly question like that?”

“Because if you don’t, then I will.”

 

Astra grinned at me and dunked my head under the water. Even though I was growing stronger, I was hardly a match for her. She let me back up after I made a show of struggling. “And just who are you to go taking my man, huh?”

 

“So he’s your man now?”

“More mine than anyone else’s,” Astra warned playfully. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I didn’t.”

“But you changed your mind.”

“Yep.”

 

At the time I had expected Astra to view my pronouncement as something of a threat, but I now understand that she truly had nothing to concern herself with. I was her gawky kid sister, nothing more.

 

That was a factor that I had actually been thinking over as I thought of Cadim. My body was changing then, slowly but surely. I was slimming down in some places and blossoming in others. Adolescence, I have been told, is perhaps the most violent process that person’s body goes through: factor in the regiment I had and you can imagine that was nearly thrice as painful. I was forced to consider a duality of attractiveness that I still struggle to maintain: I had to appear feminine enough to attract a mate, yet strong enough to protect my family. My mother was a shining example of these traits, as was my sister. Each day that passed, I only hoped that I would follow in their steps.

 

On that day I came to realize that I was not as gawky as I may have once been, but I was still nowhere near as developed as Astra. I suppose that part of that can come from the fact I never felt (and still do not feel) that I measured up to my sister, and the other part was simply the byproduct of hormonal imbalances. Whatever the case may have been, I did try my best to ensure that at the end of the road I would emerge as more than an ugly duckling. After meeting Cadim I greatly desired to deserve a man like him, and as my mother had said there were only two paths for women: happiness or loneliness.

 

“I guess I changed my mind about him too,” Astra said and effectively pulled my thoughts away from my own insecurities. She motioned for me to follow her and sat on the bank of the river, her feet still in the water. Like any younger sibling, I copied her. It felt more adult to sit the way that she did.

 

I sat beside her quietly, the topic at hand one that neither of us wanted to directly address. Cadim may have been fun to think about, but in thinking of him we were confronted with the grave reality that at that moment he was properly fighting for his life against members of Clan Hundar or whatever foe Uncle Valgor had decided to throw his men against. When I thought about it I drew my legs in and hugged them to my chest.

 

“I think everyone’s alright,” Astra said, almost comfortingly. When I glanced at her I saw that she was looking in the water, so I lowered my eyes. “Cassir’s going to send us a message saying that Cadim’s already killed ten men.”

 

“Which means he’s actually killed four,” I joked. Astra chuckled and nodded.

“He’s such a liar.”

“The biggest.”

 

This was the hardest part of warfare, I would come to learn. Being the one that sat behind and waited to find out whether or not a loved one gained acclaim or was sent to join with the afterlife. I did not want to think of my mother or Cassir dying, but at the same time I wanted to imagine that they were both leading the vanguard and claiming as many kills as possible. High stakes, high risks. I would do anything to have them back, yet wanted them to return as champions.

 

I dug my feet into the soft silt and thought of when I had seen Father digging his hands into the soil. It seemed like a life time ago, yet hardly more than five years had passed. “Do you think he’ll be okay?”

 

“Dad’ll be fine,” Astra answered without having to ask who I meant. “You have to think about it; he hasn’t been without mom for nearly twenty years now. Takes some getting used to, you know?”

 

I nodded my head and placed my chin on my knee. “He just seems so sad.”

“He is,” Astra stated. “But he’ll get over it.”

“How do you know?”

“Because that’s what we do.”

 

I had to admit she was right. We Daue were all about persevering in the face of resistance. Just as Mother was forcing herself to overcome whatever obstacles were in her way, Father was going to have to push aside his anguish and dejection. I wanted to believe that everything would work out and that before I knew it they would be back together. But that sinking feeling I had when she left returned once more and I knew that I’d find no reprieve from it.

 

“I’m scared.” I confessed.

“Me too,” Astra said. I looked at her once more and found that she had abject sincerity on her face. She wasn’t lying to me; this was a side of Astra that I didn’t know existed. “But we can’t let Dad know that and we certainly can’t let it stop us from doing what we have to do. Mom and Dad have been through a lot more than clan warfare. She’ll be fine.”

 

Yet again my father and mother’s histories were mentioned, but I knew absolutely nothing of it. I recalled that Astra had looked nearly pensive when Uncle Valgor mentioned it before. If ever I would be given a chance to explore the depths of their history, now would be the time.

 

“Why doesn’t Father ever talk about his youth?”

 

Astra was silent for a minute. “I guess you’re old enough to hear some of it.”

“Some of it?”

 

“Don’t be greedy,” she warned me. “When I was born, Dad and Mom were just starting to settle down, but they weren’t always that way. Grandfather Regimus told the Clan Daue to settle, but Dad thought that he knew better. He wanted to make a name for himself – for the Clan Daue.”

 

I tried to imagine my father as a young man. He had always seemed solemn to me, but I suppose that was because I had never seen him anything other than it – and now, depressed.

 

“After he married Mom, they had me. This meant that Mom had to stay at home and raise yours truly, while Dad went out to gain more praise for the clan. He joined up with a band of mercenaries or pirates – I can’t really remember which, and quickly became one of their best men. As you can imagine, we Mandalorians are leagues ahead of the dreck that usually fills those outfits, so Dad was a shoe-in for a captain.

 

“Unlike the folks in his company that wasted their money on frivolous things, Dad saved up his credits and sent back only enough for Mom and I to survive. I was too young to remember anything directly, but from what I’ve heard we didn’t live in the best areas. Not that it mattered; Dad’s plan was to buy us enough weaponry to start an army of our own. We managed while he went around, robbing freighters, fighting the Republic and local militia – you know, all of the things he says that other heroes did.”

 

It was a good point for my sister to bring up. My father’s stories detailed the same exploits, but he never spoke of his own?

 

“Uncle Valgor signed on with him for a few missions and before long the Clan Daue had a nice little nest egg saved up, yes? Of course, Uncle Valgor wasn’t very frugal with his spending, but you know how he is – he wants this now, no matter what they are. They were twin terrors – Hellhounds, people called them. More beast than man! Wherever they went, chaos and violence followed. Dad was a brilliant strategist and Uncle Valgor could get things done. By the time that I was about three, the Hellhounds were feared by nearly everyone in this system.

 

“When Grandfather Dasius died, everyone thought that the Hellhounds would take over the system. With Uncle Valgor at the lead they could do whatever they wanted; attack whenever they wanted to and do it as a clan rather than a company of thugs. But that didn’t happen. One day, after a mission, Dad returned home to mom and I with Cassir and Polus, little more than babies at the time.”

 

She paused when she said Polus’ name, but I didn’t expect anything else. It was sad to think that in the upheaval of recent events he had almost been forgotten, but I suppose that was what my mother meant about the pains of beauty – so many loved ones to lose.

 

“He never told me why it was that he quit, but I know that it had to do something with how he came to adopt Cassir and Polus.” Astra gave a thoughtful shake of her head then. “Whatever it was, it made him want to settle down and start a family, so here we are now.”

 

I was having an extremely difficult time reconciling the image of my father was a fierce warrior. True, he always had a silent nature of command about him and even Uncle Valgor seemed to respect that quality, but he was a farmer, not a mercenary. If he was that good at hiding who he was, I had to wonder just how much of my father I actually knew. Was it possible that I didn’t know him at all?

 

“What happened to the credits he saved up?” My question was more one to break the silence than one of interest. By that point I was too focused on the identity of my parents to really care, but silence was the last thing I wanted to hear. I believe Astra picked up on that, because what she said next was so outlandish it drew me out of my stupor.

 

“He bought Mom a really big ring with it,” she said. “If you saw it up close, it’d look like a star sparkling.”

 

I had never seen my mother wear jewelry – in fact, the word itself meant very little to me. I looked up at Astra and saw that she was trying her best to conceal a smirk.

 

“Why would he buy her a ring?”

“Because he wanted to show her that he loved her, of course.” The explanation was given matter-of-factly.

“I’ve never seen Mother wear a ring.”

 

Astra clapped her hands and stood up. “That’s because she lost it when we were crossing this river to build our home, you see? If you come out here at night you can see it sometimes, glowing deep down in the bottom of the river.”

I couldn’t help but protest that notion. “You’re such a liar!”

“About some things,” Astra admitted. She gave me a clever grin. “But not all of them. Now let’s get back home. Your day’s vacation is over.”

 

I stood up as well and dusted some of the silt off my body. “You’re going to work me to death.”

“Only if you’re lucky.”

 

That night when we ate dinner I couldn’t help but look at my father more closely. Since he was normally clean shaven I would not have normally noticed it, but as his beard grew in I could see tufts of white hair where brown should have been. His face was so drawn, tired in a way that I couldn’t understand. To his credit he had started working the fields again, but we didn’t have so much work that it should have sapped him to the degree that it did. Even the way he chewed his food seemed to be without life, like it was an action that he completed out of necessity more than desire.

 

How was it possible that the downtrodden man that was sitting at the head of the table was a man that had taken on an entire Republic shuttle by himself? I could not wrap my head around it, yet I knew that it had to be true. Uncle Valgor had no reason to lie and Astra’s story only further added veracity to the claims. Whatever silent strength that my father had though, was diminishing with each passing day.

 

There was rarely any talking at the dinner table, and I saw no reason to encourage it that night. With three chairs that had once been filled now empty, it felt almost impolite to have a discussion without them. Astra broke the silence a few times by mentioning the growing seasons, but other than give noncommittal grunts or respond with a few words, my father had little to say. Even if he was not the warrior that he had once been, it broke my childish heart to know that he was no longer the man he had once been either.

 

Was I supposed to tell him that things would be okay, or challenge him to live more like he once had? In both cases I felt I would be stepping outside of my station and since Astra did not make an effort to do either I supposed she was correct in being reserved. She was, after all, my guiding light. But I couldn’t sit by and do nothing as my father wasted away before my eyes. After I had put away our dishes and tidied up the house, I went to bed and began to plot. There had to be something that I could do to make my father feel better.

 

Astra and I no longer shared the same bed, although we were still in the same room. While I could have taken Cassir or Polus’ bed, I didn’t feel that it would be appropriate to do either. I instead slept on the floor while she used the bedding as her senior age merited. With my thin blanket pulled over me, I tried my best to think of a solution to the problem at hand. It was when my mind began to enter the realms of sleep that an idea struck me.

 

Now, as I look back, I understand that it is rarely a good thing when an idea manifests in the realms of sleep, but as a child I thought it was a sign of brilliance. Astra had said that her story was only partially false, which meant that some of it had to be true. There was a possibility that Mother’s ring was still in the water and that I could get it for my father. If he had it, perhaps he’d remember the good times and forget the sadness of the day. It was truly brilliant, how could anything go wrong? I was a strong swimmer. True, I had never swum at night but it was not as though I had to see very much anyway. If the ring glowed like Astra said, it would be easy enough to obtain.

 

The only difficult part to my plan would be waiting until Astra had fallen asleep. I heard her enter the room a few minutes after my plan came about.

 

“Goodnight, sis,” she said to me.

“Goodnight,” I replied.

 

I waited until I heard her snoring – she denied that she did it, but I assure you that when she snored it sounded like a windstorm was trapped in her nose! After several minutes of her nocturnal choir, I crept off of my bedding and made my way into the hall. Five years before I had done the same, but that time I had not known why I was doing it. This time around, I had a plan. I was going to give my father a reason to smile again.

 

Our sitting room did look empty without my mother’s armor being on the wall. For so long it had been a fixture that seeing it absent was no different than when Polus had not returned from his verd’goten. I did not want to think that my mother had met the same fate, but that sinking suspicion had not left me. I could understand why my father would be so depressed over her absence and that only further strengthened my resolve. I had to do this because if I didn’t, my father would be swallowed up in his own grief.

 

When I made it outside there was a cool breeze waiting for me. Bird the Dog groggily lifted his head and looked at me as though he were irritated that yet another adventure was to begin. I never made him come with me, so why he was irritated was beyond me. Needless to say, the moment that I left the porch he yipped and followed close behind. We were on a mission; I the commander, he the soldier.

 

The moon shone down on the river as we came to it. The water looked murkier than usual, but I supposed that was because the sunlight was no longer illuminating its depths. As I had rationalized in the realms of sleep, if I was to find the ring I would be able to see its glowing from the surface, anyway. I walked down the length of the river, my eyes constantly skimming for any sign of luminescence but finding little to nothing. It was still possible that Astra had made the whole thing up – she was nearly as bad as Cadim when it came to lying.

 

There was also the very real notion that I did not want to go into the water. During the day our river was like an old friend, but as I saw it at night there was a dark and mysterious edge to it. I didn’t know what was in there and I didn’t want to find out. If I couldn’t see the ring then I would have to call off my mission and go home, right? It may have been disheartening to fail at something I set out to do, but there was no reason to splash around if it accomplished nothing.

 

I hated myself for thinking that way. I had gone to the river to help my father and I was letting fear misguide me. Bird’s presence as always acted as a deterrent from cowardice, and just as I was prepared to forsake my plan and simply leap into the water to forage for the ring by hand, I saw a distant glimmer downstream. It could have well been the moon reflecting off of water, but I doubted it. My mother’s ring was down there and I was going to retrieve it for my father.

 

I kicked off my shoes and took a running start. Bird the Dog barked and ran behind me, as though to indicate that he would be entering not long after I did. I splashed into the water and instantly felt the cold chill of its touch wash over me. A gasp left me as my body acclimatized, before I took in a deep breath and dove into the water below. This was the best thing that I could do for my father, I knew. The sound of Bird splashing into the water after me only further helped me believe that to be the case.

 

It wasn’t a lie when I said I was a strong swimmer – when you spend all of your free time training different muscle groups, you develop a knack for most physical exercises. Of course, this was further improved upon by the simple fact that I generally liked the water. I could hold my breath for about two minutes before I started to become lightheaded, and another one before I needed to come up for air. Later that number would nearly double, but for a ten year old it was not such a bad feat.

 

The murkiness of the water had not alleviated when I opened my eyes. I could see what was directly in front of me, but the rest was cloaked in the shadows of the deep water. I searched for any sign of the glowing ring, feeling as best as I could and trying to ignore the squishy undergrowth that played against my fingers. Thinking about it now I’d never go feeling around in a dark river unless I had to, but I suppose that is a lesson learned from experience.

 

My three minutes were up and so I pushed off the ground and swam back to the surface. When I remerged I gasped and allowed my straining lungs to fill with oxygen once more. Bird was still paddling in the water, but he seemed much less willing to dive. I gave him a little grin and then dove back into the water.

 

Again I searched for any trace of the ring and again I was rewarded with nothingness. When I came back up Bird was on the shore and barking up a storm. I was of half a mind to see what was bothering him, but as I began to look in his direction I saw the glowing again. It was closer and this time I knew where it was.

 

“Stop barking or you’ll wake everyone up!” I snapped at Bird. He whimpered and then started barking again. So maybe I wasn’t the commander – or at least, not a good one.

 

I plunged back into the water, my body by now used to the depths. In my mind I had charted where the ring was and swam with greater speed to get to it. Surely enough, as I made my way closer to the glowing object I could see its sparkle through the darkness. A piece of kelp brushed my leg as I moved inward and grabbed it. It was difficult to believe that I was going to be able to rescue my father.

 

And that’s when I realized that the kelp was doing more than brushing my leg.

 

At first it felt like something was tugging me backwards, almost as if to test what would happen. That sensation was soon replaced, though, when I felt a tentacle slide over my leg and forcefully yank me away. Startled as I was, I knew that the greatest mistake I could make was scream and allow the water that was around me to rush into my mouth. I balled my hands into fists and tried to swim to the surface, but the tentacle was joined by another and I was pulled back down.

 

I had another minute and a half before my air reserves were going to be lost. As I turned about, I saw the bulbous eyes of an octopus looking back at me. It was the largest one I had ever seen; easily as big as me and with enough arms to weigh me down with ease. I shoved and panicked, but it hardly seemed to notice. I felt the small teeth on its tentacles piercing my skin, and kicked out sharply. It pulled me closer, so I used the hand that was not clutching my ring to jab my thumb directly into its eye. We Mandalorians learn how to fight at an early age, and I was using whatever it took to escape from a watery grave.

 

Panic would be an understatement – I was terrified. If I couldn’t escape from the mass of tentacles that were holding me down I was certainly going to die. The thought of adding to my father’s grief only further weighted me down though and rather than think of that I focused on the fact that I needed to get air. I twisted my thumb in the octopus’ eye until it released me and retreated a step. Freed from its grasp, I surged up to the surface and broke the water with a gasp and a cry of shock. I don’t know what I said, but I know I said something.

 

The octopus wasn’t done with me yet, why would it be? It caught hold of my ankle and pulled me back down, while at the same time rising toward the surface so that it would wrap more of its tentacles around my body. The muscular strength of an octopus is something that a person cannot appreciate until they have one wrapped about their body – even an adult male would be hard pressed to escape one. I struck out again at it but it was hopeless. The octopus began to position itself so that it could sink back into the water and drown me.

 

That was when I heard Bird enter the water again. We were still close enough for him to see that I was in trouble, and my dog was not about to let me die without a fight. He splashed about and snarled, and then seized hold of the octopus in his jaw that could all but lock once it had what it wanted. The feeling of Bird’s teeth must have been more threatening than my feeble punches, because the octopus released me and turned its attention to Bird. I struggled back to the surface to get air, then looked to see that the octopus was preparing to sink with Bird. Just as he had saved me, I refused to abandon him to the horror of drowning.

 

I entered the water again and slid the ring’s gem through my fingers. Using it as a weapon of sorts, I struck the octopus several times on the side of its head, then jabbed it again in its eye I had previously injured. It released Bird, who scrambled away and broke for the shoreline. I knew that if I was going to survive I would need to follow after him, and so on his heels I swam as fast as I could. The octopus released a screen of ink that coated the area about us and made it even more difficult to see. Bird made it the shore first and turned back for me. I felt the river’s silt in my hand before that familiar tug caught hold of me.

 

“Run, Bird!” I demanded, wanting nothing more than for him to escape even if I couldn’t. It was a silly sentiment in retrospect, but Bird was my truest friend and losing him would have been more than I could stomach: even if it meant I had to die in the exchange. Not very logical, but children rarely are. I was, after all, swimming at night in search of a ring.

 

Once more I was pulled down, and this time I didn’t have the fortune of avoiding the taste of water and ink in my mouth. I watched as the moon faded into a watery blur above me and knew that even if I managed to fight the octopus off, eventually it would win. I twisted and turned, swiping at it as best as I could with the ring and praying that I could at least wound it badly enough that it would remember me for the rest of its life. One of the tentacles draped over my neck and I felt it constrict. I kicked outward with both of my feet and broke the surface again for air, only to be dragged down. The glimpse of the shore showed me that Bird was nowhere in sight.

 

Struggling against an octopus is an extremely taxing activity, and I was already close to collapse. I struck for its face with the ring again, but it evaded. Furious and terrified at the same time, I used whatever adrenal graces I had to pull back and strike at the octopus again. This time when I hit it, I caught its good eye and effectively blinded it. It released me and I was given the chance to grab just a bit more oxygen before I was pulled down again. My lungs were sore and my body ached; there wasn’t much fight left in me.

 

They say that when a person dies, she sees a light at the end of a tunnel. I started to see that light, though in all honesty I believe it was more from oxygen deprivation and my body slowly shutting down. I could hear my heart thudding in my ears and knew that it was only a matter of time before everything was over. I broke free of the octopus for what I knew to be the final time and gasped for air. This was it.

 

I heard Bird’s barking again and prayed that he wouldn’t jump back into the water after me. The world was no longer making any sense; I saw spots before my eyes and the octopus’ strength was too much for me to deny. As I sank back into the water once more I felt the octopus roll again and begin to fall to the bottom of the river. This was to be the end of my story: the last thing I would see was that blurry moonlight streaming down through the river.

 

I had given it my all to survive: done what any Mandalorian would have. I protected Bird (my family) and deserved a warrior’s death. For a ten year old to come to that realization should speak to how certain I was of my death, and although I refused to stop struggling I knew that soon I would no longer be able to. I had nothing left in me.

 

The statement that your life flashes before your eyes is not a false one. Mine did. Granted, at the age of ten there was not much to flash about, but what did was as meaningful to me as possible: the first day that I met Bird, when Astra showed me how to do a cartwheel, Polus chasing after Cassir because he tied his shoelaces together, Mother showing me how to field repair a rifle, Father smiling, Cassir's adulthood ceremony, Cadim's jokes.

 

But the thing that people often forget to mention is that you also see the things that wouldn't ever occur. I would never see Bird again; I would never again see Cassir or my mother. I would never get to experience love, or have my own family. I would never see my father's smile again. No one would ever find me, lodged at the bottom of a river with whatever scraps the octopus didn't devour of me.

 

I would never become a woman.

 

The sound of splashing again met my ears, and I recall my most strenuous thought being that I didn’t want Bird to die with me. But just as I was ready to see my canine defender come to my aid, I instead felt myself being dragged out of the water. The octopus struggled to prevent it, but against my savior it could not apply enough weight – I had, after all, injured it in the struggle.

 

I was pulled out of the water and placed on the ground. My lungs were filled with fluid, but I could distinctly make out the figure of my father as he hoisted the octopus into the air and slammed it to the ground. There was such power and drive in him when he did it that the cephalopod actually bounced before it released me and slithered back into the river. I struggled to cough, but could not. My eyes closed.

 

My father told me that it took him nearly a minute before he got me to cough up the water that was in my lungs. I recall the acrid feeling of my throat after I’d done so, but not the revival itself. As he lifted me in his arms, the white parts of his beard were all that I could see. I don’t know why, but that was what stuck out in my mind.

 

“Have you lost your mind, girl?” He asked me, his voice a mixture of anger and concern. I could hardly keep my eyes open, but I saw that worry was on his brow. “Why would you go swimming, alone, at night?”

 

“I wasn’t alone,” I whispered. “I had Bird.”

“And a good thing that you did,” my father snapped. “If he hadn’t of gotten to me in time, you’d…” He didn’t finish the sentence. I didn’t want him to. He hugged me closer to his body.

 

Astra was just leaving the door as we returned home. I could hear her shouting and yelling, but the words all seemed like a stream of one sentiment of disapproval. Father told her to get me some blankets and she complied. My blood was flowing naturally again and I could feel the ring in my hand. As Astra set to drying me off, I coughed and held my hand out to my father.

 

“I wanted you to have this.”

 

My fingers uncurled slowly and a bit of the water I had been grasping slid down my hand. In the center of my palm was a golden band, etched with writing that I certainly could not understand. My father took it from my hand and looked at it as though it were some ancient relic. His eyes moved to Astra, and then back to me.

 

“What does it say?” I asked the question sheepishly. Astra continued to towel me off.

 

For a moment I thought that my father didn’t hear me, but as I prepared to speak again he looked up and smiled. It wasn’t the smile that I had seen him give so long ago; this one was sad, but just as beautiful.

 

Ner cyar’ika, gar ka’rta cuyi’ ner runi. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum..” He ran his finger over the surface of the ring again. “My beloved, your heart is my soul. We will know each other forever.”

 

It was the most beautiful thing I had ever heard someone say. A look that I had never seen on his face appeared then, as he looked between my sister and me. I now know what it was and can understand why he revealed it: shame. While he had been moping my sister and I were trying our best to carry on. He did not say that he was sorry for it, but we did not expect him to. All that mattered was that he changed. We were of the Clan Daue; we did not sulk, we persevered.

 

My father patted me on the head as he stood up. “Make sure that she gets to bed soon,” he said. “We have a long day of work in the morning.”

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Chapter Six: Blood and Honor.

 

Six months after my ill-fated midnight swimming session, we received our first recording from Cassir. I had just turned eleven and was two years away from my verd’goten. My father was much closer to how he had been before my mother’s departure and worked the fields without us when Astra said that I needed to increase my training if I was to “ever have a chance”. I know now that she was only looking out for me, but I cannot help but feel my abdominal muscles tighten whenever I think of her grueling sessions.

 

I do not believe anyone in my family went through the preparation that I did and while it seemed excessive at the time, as I look over the course of my life I understand why that was the case. More than Astra’s inexperience, there was an urgency and method to her madness that had not needed to be there with any of the others. For so long the Clan Daue was divorced from warfare that the verd’goten while challenging and potentially deadly was more a ceremonial rite of passage than a marker for one’s battle readiness. But at that moment Mother and Cassir were in the deep of Vace territory, and the potential for that to spill back our way was very real.

 

Astra was forging a warrior. She wanted to make sure that I was her masterpiece.

 

Unfortunately, most smiths do not deal with organic materials. When they heat them and bend them, the materials don’t actually feel the manipulation. For example, if you were to give iron the chance to scream at you, I doubt that it would be quiet as you made it complete its seventieth crunch. So no, I was not the most gracious recipient of my sister’s good intentions. In fact, I was a downright terror.

 

“I hate you so much right now!” It was one of the nicer things that I shouted at her, and when I did it I was given the pleasure of having her place her foot on my chest so I’d have to struggle to complete another crunch. I grabbed for her other leg to pull her support out, but she shifted and gave me a mean little smirk as she looked down at me.

 

“Little Miss Octopus Wrestler thinks she’s so tough, right? Well. Keep it up! This isn’t going to be over until you can’t go any further!” My heart sank when I heard her say that. While every day was hell, the days that she made sure that I hit the wall were by far the worst. I had more or less mastered her obstacle course by that time, so she no longer used it as the ultimate measure; climbing and jumping, swinging and running, were now the warm up rituals to my day. Even with an hour of stretching after I got done with everything, there was no way to get away from that lactic burn.

 

Those were the easy days.

 

Days like this meant that all of my exercises were going to be put into one power session. I would be given a break to rehydrate, but after that it was right back to the grind. The irony of it is that I burned so many calories I could have eaten the fattiest junk food in the galaxy and not have gained an ounce. Unfortunately I had no idea what fatty junk foods were as a child, and so it was an opportunity lost. I was battered, sore, and disoriented, but I was damned fit! There’s no workout routine like the one a worried Mandalorian will give her charge when she feels that her life may soon be on the line.

 

To her credit, Astra never made me do something that she could not do. When I was told to jog somewhere, she was running backward right alongside me. If I had to climb something, she was already at the top to make certain that I wasn’t cheating and skipping a ledge or two. I think that in a way the fact that she could also do it actually made me resent her more. Why couldn’t she be one of those lazy trainers that you laughed at because they could never do what you did? I didn’t even bother to say that something was impossible because my sister was the type of person that led from the front. I knew it could be done because she was doing it.

 

I also think that in letting her see how crazy her regime was, I was actually helping whatever future nieces or nephews I had. Perhaps they’d be spared a few extra two-a-days. Just the thought makes me tremble.

 

By that time, my father was beginning to take more of a hand in my training as well. Just as I had seen Cassir and Polus transition from my mother’s tutelage to my father’s, I was slowly being broken of Astra’s hellacious routine and given over to Father’s guiding care. He was no less strict than she, but his purpose was of a more manageable nature. My body was being honed into a weapon, but I need to know how to use it. Astra had done a good job teaching me marksmanship and close-quarter combat techniques, but my father was the one that really took me on my first survival lessons. I had learned to track or hide, but I had not learned how to survive.

 

Usually we simply waited in a position for a long time – far longer than I would have normally – and watched the woods around us. Just when I thought that my father was wasting our time so that I might catch my breath, he’d point out some different form of wildlife that he had known was coming. It never failed; time and time again he could spot an animal before it even knew where it was going. I had to assume that my father’s expertise came from the life that he led so long before I was born. It was somewhat mystifying to see this part of him, and I was glad that I could.

 

His beard had been shaven off, thankfully. Whatever weight he had lost in his depression was put back on in the form of muscle, and he was leaner and more driven than I had ever seen him before. My mother’s ring was worn around his neck on a chain, its presence at times reflecting off the sunlight and giving a glow that reminded me of the first time I had seen it. When she returned, it would be the first thing she would see. What better welcome home present could she be given?

 

“Your first instinct is always the correct one,” my father explained to me one day when we were sitting in a tree. When we were out in the wild he rarely had anything to say to me – or at least, less than he normally didn’t have to say to me. Considering that these woods were completely foreign to me, I had all the more reason not to expect him to speak. So when I heard his voice I paid close attention to it. He was soft spoken, but always assertive. “If you think that a position isn’t well defended; don’t remain there. If you feel that you’re not alone; you aren’t. Your gut’s going to tell you whatever you need to know. Your brain’s going to try to explain it away.”

 

I nodded. “So don’t listen to my brain?”

“Of course you should listen to your brain,” he corrected. “Just not when it disagrees with your gut.”

 

At that moment my gut was in more pain than any other part of my body. Those crunches were going to be with me for the better part of the week. Before I could speak again my father held up his hand and I stopped speaking instantly. He lowered the hand and pointed toward the distance. What I saw was something that I had never before encountered.

 

It was a beautifully authoritative creature. Alone, against the woodlands, it would have been imperceptible if not for the fact we had the vantage point of the tree tops. Its fur was sandy, yet the brown bands on it made it blend well with the forest floor. There were two sets of eyes on its head and a series of teeth that looked more like something that belonged in the mouth of a shark than a feline. Its stride was smooth and commanding, and with each step that it took I could see a rippling of muscles beneath its pelt.

 

The creature stopped and lifted its head into the air, sniffing inward. I was certain that it would spot us, but rather than come our way it instead headed in another direction. Whatever the cause for its decision may have been I was glad. Even if we had heavy repeaters I would have felt overwhelmed in confronting something so impressive. As it turned to leave, I noticed that its tail was split and completely hairless. They swished about for a moment, before they vanished behind some shrubbery.

 

“What’s your gut telling you right now?” My father asked me.

“To get the hell out of here,” I answered.

 

Not surprisingly, we did just that.

 

On the way back, I questioned my father on just what we had seen.

“A predator,” he answered. “That feeling you had when you saw it; remember it. It doesn’t matter what type of predator something is so long as you know it’s a predator.”

 

His explanation was simple and understandable. I knew exactly what he meant by the feeling. Yes, I had been entranced by the creature but I also felt abject dread when I considered that it might see us. It was a pure and cold feeling that raced up my spine and told my brain that there was something amiss. The creature hadn’t been hunting us and yet I knew that I should be wary of it. That was all I needed to know.

 

Astra was waiting outside for us when we came home, and I could tell from the smile on her face that there was good news. I hustled in my step and ran up to her, half expecting her to tell me that Mother and Cassir were home. The news that I received instead was almost as good. We had been sent our first transmission from Vace territory! I turned and told my father, who despite his normally sedated nature, sped up just a little bit more as well.

 

While our family made sure to keep basic working equipment, we did not have any of the fancy technology that I would come to enjoy later in life. More often than not we had no reason to pay attention to our holo-player, and while it was kept functional with the same diligence we showed our weaponry, it was nearly as ceremonial. Astra had pulled the flat surface into the middle of our sitting room, and as we all entered hit the switch to begin the playback.

 

I almost clapped with joy when I saw Cassir’s face materialize on the blue-green transmission. It had only been half a year, but he looked much older than he had before. He was stronger now; more tested. The transmission did not detail all of his armor, but I could see there were a few new scars to it. Normally I would have been concerned, but the fact that he was smiling said all that I needed to know.

 

Sorry that it’s taken me so long to send you guys a transmission. After we met up with the Vace we had to scramble to help them prepare their defenses against the Hundar. Uncle Valgor was right – this planet is really changing and there are clear lines of influence on both sides. It’s crazy to think that when you guys get this you won’t be hearing the blaster fire or explosions that we do, but… wow! It’s amazing!

 

My brother’s exuberance bordered on childish, and I couldn’t help but giggle as he related to us all that he had been through. I glanced at my father and was relieved that he looked at peace with what he was hearing.

 

Mom’s taken on a command position for the Vace auxiliary forces. I’d always heard that you and she were excellent fighters, Dad, but on the first day she took out seven Hundar alone! Uncle Valgor said that if you’d come with us this would be over in a matter of days, but I guess I’m lucky that you didn’t. If you did, what chance would I have to get some honor, eh?

 

“We’re moving deeper into Vace territory tomorrow; Uncle Valgor thinks that if we can position ourselves properly then everything will work out when the time is right. They’re not really shoddy fighters, but they’re not really all that impressive either. They’re good people. I hope that when all of this is over, we can all join together as one clan again.

 

That was wistful thinking and even I knew it. I could see a smile forming on my father’s lips when mention of my mother came about, and Astra’s hand on my shoulder tightened just a bit.

 

Everyone’s started calling me ‘Farmboy’, but I don’t really mind it. This farmboy, after all, has three confirmed kills to his name already and is going to make that double in a week. Astra’s loverboy only has two. Guess we were doing something right on the farm, weren’t we?”

 

At the mention of Cadim, I smiled, which meant that Astra must have been beaming. When I looked up at her I could see a bit of color on her cheeks and grinned. She flicked me on the ear and pointed back to the screen. Apparently she knew something was coming that I did not.

 

Anyway, I’m going to let you guys hear from Mom for a bit. We miss you a lot! If everything goes well, we should be back home before the year’s over. I’m not making any requests here, but if you happened to have some bantha steaks ready for me when we got back, I wouldn’t be upset about it.

 

“Steaks,” Astra complained, her affection hardly kept from her voice. “We’re working the land and he wants steaks!”

 

Father’s voice was just as mirthful, though he tried his best to hide it. “A man likes to eat.”

 

The transmission fizzled and flickered for a moment, before my mother’s face appeared on it. Unlike Cassir, she didn’t look as though she had aged at all – in fact, she was more vibrant and animated on the transmission than I had ever seen her in life. There was the making of a smile on her lips and although it didn’t manifest fully, I was certain that everyone else saw it as well. Wherever she was, she was doing something that she liked doing.

 

Decimus, you had better be eating properly. I don’t want to come back and find skin and bones waiting for me. Astra, you’re going to kill your sister if you keep working her as hard as you are. Siana, do whatever your sister says – even if it kills you.

 

We could do nothing more than gawk at each other in amazement as Mother effectively explained what we were all going through. I suppose it made sense; she knew as just as well as we knew her. I heard my father murmur some half-hearted denial, but nothing more came from him. Mother looked away from the recorder for a moment and then back to it.

 

I’ve been told to inform you that Cadim has four and a half kills to his name, not two. – Now they’re arguing about how someone can have half of a kill. As Cassir informed you, I have been made commander of the Vace Support Group. We’re doing mostly sniper work, Decimus, so you can rest easily. You’d think that these people had never been under sniper fire – when one of them falls, another pops up to see what happened. I almost feel bad adding them to my kill count.

 

She paused then. Her smile flashed for a split second, but I knew that I had seen it.

 

But I am going to. Only thirty more until I catch up to you, Decimus. Don’t expect me to stop there. ” The teasing glibness of my mother’s voice was from an era I did not understand, but I could see why my father had fallen in love with her. I wanted to know this woman just as much as I wanted to know my father when he was younger. If Cassir and Cadim were any indication of what Uncle Valgor and Father were like, then I am certain it must have been fun to work alongside them.

 

I am going to end this call here. I love you all. Siana, be prepared for a renewal of my training when I return.

 

And just like that, the transmission ended. I waited several seconds and hit the replay button. No one complained and so we watched it again and again. Be it Cassir’s grinning or Mother’s micro-smile, we were drawing more sustenance from that footage than we had from our food for a week.

 

Somewhere, far away, I knew that my mother and brother were thinking of us just as we were of them. With each person that they killed our family gained more honor, but more importantly they were saved from having to face another combatant. I wanted more than anything else to be able to be with them; to be worthy of my own armor and my own stories. When we had finally finished watching the transmission, Astra put the holo-player away and we ate.

 

That night when I laid on my floor mat, I did not think of the pain that was in my body or the fact that the next day Astra was probably going to ignore my mother’s command. I thought of that creature I had seen with my father; its glistening teeth and its hateful eyes. It was a creature that had been perfected for what it was; its every fiber was meant to assist its body in performing acts of predation that far exceeded the limitations of most.

 

I wanted to be that creature – I wanted to be that fierce. I wanted people to feel me coming and know that a predator was amongst them. My mother and brother were more than likely fighting at that very moment, and they were exchanging the blood of their enemies for the honor of our clan. When it was my turn to join a conflict; when I was called to arms, I desired nothing more than to be the Mandalorian that made others feel terror.

 

Astra shifted in the bedding and didn’t begin to snore. These two things told me that the galaxy’s most infamous snorer was not yet asleep. I sat up with the help of my elbows and looked at her.

 

“Why didn’t you go with them?” I had never thought to ask the question until that point. When she chose to remain I was relieved, but Astra’s presence did not make a world of sense to me. She was older than Cassir and more experienced in combat. Why would she stay behind, when she could have gained acclaim alongside her future betrothed?

 

Astra turned over in her bed and looked down at me. “Because if I left, who would teach you?”

 

“Father could teach me,” I said.

 

“No, Dad can show you how to become a Mandalorian, but he can’t teach you.” She laid her head back down. “There’s a saying that you should train your sons hard, but your daughters harder. Do you know why that is?”

 

I didn’t answer, so she went on. “Sons are meant to die; daughters are meant to continue. Dad can show you how to hunt, kill, and fight – but he can’t show you how to be a Mandalorian woman. Your day of testing is fast approaching, Sis. By the time that you become an adult, you need to know so many things. You need to be prepared to sacrifice everything for your family if need be.”

 

It was the first time that I heard my sister speak of sacrifice, but I knew what she meant at once. By remaining behind she had ensured that she would not be given the chance to gain the same honor that Cassir was at that moment. I began to wonder if she resented me for it – if she felt that I was her anchor.

 

An apology almost escaped my lips, but as it began to manifest I swallowed it back down. What was I going to apologize for? Having an excellent older sister? I would have to show her my gratitude, not simply state its existence. I would become the great predator that I had seen in the forest. Iron didn’t complain when it was forged and neither would I. I’d do whatever it took, I’d listen to Astra just as my mother had told me. My verd'goten was in a year and a half. I refused to fail.

 

A Mandalorian woman’s first armor was her spirit, the second set she gained after her verd’goten. I wasn’t going to let anything stop me from becoming the best Mandalorian that I could be. Luckily, Astra wouldn’t have it any other way.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Chapter Seven: End of an Era.

 

By the time that the next year and a half had passed, neither my mother nor Cassir had returned from Uncle Valgor’s expedition. We received updates infrequently of how things were progressing, and much to our dismay they were not going quite as well as initially projected. Uncle Valgor had been wounded in battle and many of his men lost in a foolhardy charge that to this day I suppose was his attempt at capturing the esteem of his brothers. The expeditionary force was placed on the defensive and there were rumors that Vace would surrender to Hundar.

 

Even if not for Cassir’s messages though, which he attempted to deliver with as much verve as possible, we would have known that things were changing in the war. Refugees from engagements were moving closer to our home, and while we tried to feed and shelter some of them, the tide continues to grow at such a rate that it became obvious we needed to turn others away. The violent storm that my father had mentioned was brooding on the horizon, and we could only hope that our family could weather the storm.

 

I had grown another meter in the interim of the expedition’s departure, now standing at 1.67 meters. While nature and biology ensured that I would continue to grow, Astra was the driving force behind my development. When the refugees began to arrive she made sure that I was at all times prepared for moving, and sometimes woke me up in the middle of the night to be certain that I could move silently out of the house. I told her that as long as we didn’t head to a river I would be fine, but my jesting only caused her to frown. She was scared. I was scared. The difference was, she was the one that we were depending on.

 

It was late autumn when we heard that the Clan Daue had been dealt another harrowing defeat. I had been outside, practicing my knife training with a displaced soldier by the name of Fendar, when a disheveled man from the north arrived with the news. I quickly retrieved Astra from the kitchen and told her we had another visitor. She prepared for him a meager helping of food and met him at the door. I had not recognized him, but she did.

 

“Vasmus,” she gasped as she helped him find a seat. Once I heard his name I recalled that he and his brother Ryk had been amongst the youths that left with Uncle Valgor. His face was covered in soot and there was a good deal of scaring to his armor. I excused myself from the training session with Fendar and looked to my sister. I was hers to command. “Go find Dad and tell him that Vasmus is here.”

 

I acted without hesitation. The wind was hard to run against that evening, no doubt an aspect of the approaching storm. I ran with all of my might, arms pumping and lungs laboring, until I saw my father working in the field. We had allowed several of the refugees to stay on as hired hands, exchanging food for services. His works looked up and gave me varying degrees of salutation, but my focus was singularly on my father. I called out to him and he dropped his hoe, and then ran over to me.

 

“What is it?” He asked.

I took a moment to catch my breath and then pointed back at the house. Before I could even get a word out, he was already moving for our home.

 

When we returned home Astra had removed some of Vasmus’ armor and was applying bacta to his wounds. He looked up first to my father and gave him a tired nod. It was a nod I would come to understand in years later to be the expression one had when they realized they were on death’s door. Despite his acceptance of that fate though, Astra worked tirelessly to stabilize him.

 

My father knelt beside Vasmus. I had never seen someone as battered as he was, so I hung back. Foolishly, I thought that his weakness might actually be contagious.

 

“Vasmus, what’s happened?”

“Ambush,” he began and then shook his head. “We were ambushed.”

 

“By the Hundar?” My father asked.

“By the Hundar and the Vace.”

 

The latter part struck each of us with a severity that could not have been prepared for. I gasped, Astra slowed in her mending, and my father clenched his jaw. He placed a hand to Vasmus’ cheek and willed him to look into his eyes.

 

“Tell me what happened.”

Astra interjected. “Dad, he needs to rest.”

“After he tells me what happened!”

 

It was very rare that my father raised his voice, and I understood at once that he was beyond concerned. After all, not only was Clan Daue now in a precarious situation, but mother and Cassir were amongst those that were in the field. Vasmus struggled to think and then nodded.

 

“Aliit’alor, your brother, told us to assist the Vace in protecting their western region. Intelligence told us that the Hundar were preparing for a big offensive there, and if we could cut them off then we’d effectively have smashed them in a blaze of glory. It was the kind of battle that the clan leader always wanted for us to experience.”

 

We all listened patiently, waiting to hear of what happened to our loved ones. It was a sad day that any of the Clan Daue died, but the Mandalorian generalities that family did not matter as much as the clan is something I doubt anyone truly believes. Vasmus had not been the one to hold my hand through storms, or who taught me how to shoot. That was Cassir or my mother. It was only logical that we should care more about them.

 

“Commander Sala moved her auxiliary forces into position back in a collection of trees. You know, a crow’s nest,” he paused and rubbed at his throat. “Could I have some water?”

 

“Siana.” Father and Astra spoke at once. I complied.

 

With the water nearly spilling out of a cup, I lowered it to Vasmus’ mouth and allowed him to drink. His thirst must have been great, because no matter how much I tipped the cup he made sure to swallow it all up. Once I had done he smiled up at me, a dejected expression that showed thanks. I nodded and quickly retreated to stand behind my father.

 

“I was assigned to the clan leader’s squad: I didn’t get to see too much of what happened up there, but I can guess.” When no one moved to stop him from continuing, Vasmus went on. “We’d been expecting the Hundar forces to be surprised, so Commander Sala put most of her men on the offensive. I’m sure that she had an escape route – she always does, but… I don’t think she was prepared for them to hit her position as hard as they did.”

 

I saw Father’s jaw clench once more and placed my hand to his shoulder. Astra tried her best to look strong as she wrapped Vasmus’ wounds.

 

“They wanted her. I mean, she’d been sniping them for a year now. By the time that we realized her position was being attacked, the clan leader’s forward guard was already taking casualties. We had prepared to catch them by surprise, so most of our heavy gear was left behind. It was frantic fighting, but…”

 

“My wife,” Father began. “My son. What happened to them?”

 

Vasmus was quiet for several seconds. It was the most gut-wrenching pause I had ever experienced in my life, and I would never wish it upon anyone else. We all knew that it was possible Mother or Cassir could die, but we placed it form our minds. Nearly three years worth of worry was suddenly brought to the fore and it was eating away at us. I stood as strong as I could for my father – for Astra.

 

“I don’t know,” Vasmus finally said. “Cassir had been with us in the clan leader’s group, but broke ranks when we found out that Commander Sala was under attack. We tried to offer them as much support as we could, but when the Vacian forces swarmed us, it was all too much. I can’t swear to the fact, but I can’t imagine anyone surviving everything that they were throwing at their position.”

 

I was waiting for Vasmus to continue with the story and say that against all odds he saw my mother emerge from the smoke and ash, but he fell gravely silent. I thought back to the micro-smile she had given us when she first reported back from the frontlines, and felt my knees grow weak. Everything in me wanted to collapse and begin to cry, but I managed to hold on. It was impossible that my mother, the Mandalorian matron, had been killed.

 

I didn’t want to believe it – I couldn’t believe it.

 

Vasmus looked between us and lowered his head. “I’m sorry. If I could have done anything to save her, I would have, but…”

 

“It’s alright, boy. Sala knew what she was doing when she went to battle – it’s as fitting a death for a warrior as anyone could ask for.” I had never heard my father sound so cold, but there was sincerity to the edge of his words. He didn’t blame Vasmus at all and he did believe that my mother died as she would have wanted to, but that did not deny the grief I knew he felt. He was too strong to show us it though – I know that he had vowed never to let us see him despair again.

 

“I can’t say what’s going to happen now,” Vasmus muttered. “I heard report that the Clan Leader’s pulled back to Wesmer province, but there aren’t enough of us left to assist that position. If I were you, uncle, I’d look into arming these refugees you have here and preparing for what’s coming.”

 

Father took the suggestion and nodded. His voice was heavy, bitter. “I told Valgor this would happen,” he said when he stood up. I took a step back and looked up at him. “Can I count on you to help protect the remnants of the clan, Vasmus?”

 

“With my life, uncle.” Vasmus stated.

 

I looked from Vasmus to my father. “Are we going to leave our home?” I asked, my voice awash in sadness. It was hard enough to comprehend that my family members had died, but for some reason the thought of leaving our home was nearly as painful. It didn’t matter if Mandalorians were a nomadic people – we weren’t. My father shook his head without needing to think, much to my relief.

 

“This is where we make our stand,” he answered. “After we have some defenses set up here, I’ll go around and gather those that are willing to fight. This home will be our base of operations.”

 

Vasmus nodded with complete agreement and spoke again, obviously hoping to temper the bad news with a bit of good. “Two days from here I know where there’s a weapon cache. If you’ll lend me some men we can get it and come back. I don’t know how long it’ll be before the Vacians and Hundarii make their way down here, but when they do we’ll need everything we have to hold them off.”

 

My father looked to Astra then. “Gather some supplies and men and go with your cousin to this cache. He’s right – while our stockpile is decent, we’ll need more if everyone is to be outfitted.”

 

I do not know what Astra said in response; I only know that she replied. While they went about the business of preparing our home for defense, I found myself swimming in a maelstrom of grief. It didn’t seem possible that one minute my mother could be alive in my mind and the next she was dead. Shouldn’t I have felt something? Shouldn’t I have known that she was dead? She was the woman that had given me life; how was it fair that the only way I’d know that she passed was if someone told me?

 

I’ve given the speech to men and women time and time again, how we should grieve but take joy in the fact that our loved ones have fallen in battle. I know them to be inherently empty words that actually provide little more than shame for feeling what any sane person would. At my current age I do not take much joy in having to tell anyone the news or hear it, and just on the cusp of adulthood I certainly did not want to imagine that my mother was in a “better place”. I wanted her here with me.

 

I could hear the others talking and further strategizing. This river would be defensible, or that valley would have to be abandoned. Some of the field hands were experienced soldiers and could fight for us; others were changeable and didn’t seem like the sort to trust. While I heard what everyone was saying I did not comprehend it. It was not until I heard Astra saying my name that I realized they were speaking to me, and more importantly, that I had cold tears dripping down my face.

 

“Sis, I need you to help me with the travel provisions.”

 

Travel provisions? Was I really supposed to care about travel provisions? I wiped my eyes and fought to see through my sorrow, but it was a difficult task to complete. Astra needed me and I was only going to bring shame to my family if I didn’t get it together. I swallowed down a sob and nodded, then followed her in as she moved ahead of me. Before I left my father’s side I felt his hand take hold of mine, and I looked back to see what it is he wanted.

 

The pain that I was showing on my face was hidden deeper within him. If not for the look in his eyes I would not have known it was even there. He did not speak and instead squeezed my hand to express all the affection that he could muster at the time. It meant more to me than anything else in the world, and ashamed that I was acting like such a child I turned and followed quickly after Astra.

 

We worked in silence. I was still in a state of disbelief and Astra was fighting to keep herself from entering one. Travel supplies for a small group were easy to come by, especially when we had yai’yai, a specialized food group that was high in calories and low in density. It would give a person the energy they needed to get from point A to point B and was a common component in most field rations. I knew that Astra did not really need my help in gathering the provisions. She just wanted me to be away from Vasmus.

 

“Aren’t you sad?” I asked emptily. I knew that she was – I could see it in her eyes, but the fact that she hid it so much more effectively than I did was infuriating. Why was she such a better woman than me? Why did she grasp our culture in a way that I could not? I wanted her to be upset so that I had an excuse to be upset, but she mechanically divvied up the rations.

 

She gave me a very short look and then went back to work. “Of course I am,” she told me. “But that isn’t going to make this get done any faster, is it? The time for crying is behind closed doors, Sis. You need to pull it together.”

 

Had she yelled at me, I would have had an excuse to run out of the house and cry somewhere, but she didn’t. I don’t know if it was because she knew that was what I wanted to do, or she simply didn’t see a reason for being harsh with me, but in either event I had to accept what she was saying like an adult. We were in crisis mode, and there was no time to sit around and mope.

 

After the kits were readied, I helped her carry them to the door. “Do you think Cadim is alright?” While I did care greatly for Cadim, he had understandably been lower on my priority list than Mother and Cassir. As my brain began to play over the reality that most of the men I had met were now to be numbered amongst the dead, I found it difficult to wrap my head around it. They had all been so strong – so imposing.

 

Astra’s response was a practical one. “I hope not,” she said. “But if he isn’t, worrying about him won’t bring him back.” There was a noticeable lack of compassion to her words; a tone that indicated she was more interested in the present than my childish questions. I picked up on it, but still I continued.

 

“What about Uncle Valgor?”

“I wasn’t there, Siana,” Astra said plainly. “I can’t tell you what happened.”

“I asked you what you think,” I protested.

“And I told you to help me with this. Now do what you’re told and stop wasting time!”

 

I had thought I wanted to hear her be upset, but as I heard her voice crack I realized I was horribly wrong. The sternness with which Astra spoke was not at all like what I had become accustomed to from her. It was staunch and unrelenting; devoid affection or exception. In that moment, she sounded more like my mother than she ever had in my life, and I could feel my tears brimming again. Embarrassed, I preemptively wiped at my eyes and tried my best to hide the return of my weakness.

 

When we returned outside, Father had gathered up the men he wanted to go with Vasmus. They were mostly the men that had come from our area, the ones that I knew he trusted. Fendar was numbered amongst them and he gave me a sympathetic smile as I looked at him. I tried my best to return it, but knew I had failed from the sadness that crossed his face.

 

“Two days there, two days back,” my father repeated to the men that were gathered. “We’ll start setting up the area’s defenses now. If we’re lucky the Hundarii and Vacians won’t be coming this way for a week. Winter’s almost here, and if we start getting snow I doubt they’ll bother to march until next spring. That’ll give us all the time we can ask for.”

 

“If it snows,” Vasmus repeated.

My father looked at him and spoke without doubt. “It will snow.”

 

Before everyone left, my father took Astra and me aside. I watched them just as I had watched my mother and father before she left those years ago, and could feel sadness welling inside of me again. I didn’t want Astra to leave – I didn’t want her to vanish into memories just as my mother had. Once Father finished telling her his instructions she turned to me. I had been too scared to approach my mother when she left, but I wouldn’t let that happen again.

 

I hugged her. Even if she was covered in her armor, I took what warmth I could from her and held on with all of my might. I imagined that she was Mother and that if I could hold her strong enough – long enough, that she would not be forced to make a march that I knew to be doomed. I had felt that upon Mother’s leaving; however, I did not know if what I felt when Astra left was because I was sorrowful or if I actually did think she would not come back as well.

 

“I love you,” I whispered to her.

“I love you too, Sis. We’ll be back before you know it.”

 

I highly doubted that it would be before I knew it, but I did believe that she meant it. I finally convinced my arms to release her and she mussed my hair before shouldering her kit and moving off with the others. I watched them until they were in the distance and then looked back to my father.

 

“We have a lot to do here,” he said as he motioned to the area about me. I had expected him to tell me how he felt about Mother’s passing, but he did anything but. The way he spoke – the way he looked, it was the same manner that he had been speaking with Vasmus in. I wasn’t being addressed as his daughter; I was being spoken to as a Mandalorian. “We’ll need to have a few men bring down a few of those trees in the woods and have pits dug out. The cache’s mines are going to be vital in preparing.”

 

I stared at him, stupefied as he spoke. I understood him well enough and nodded, but I found it hard to believe that he was talking to me as though I was his equal. Was I supposed to respond to him? Was I supposed to wait for him to finish saying everything? Put on the spot like this, I didn’t even know what my name was. I wanted to curl up and cry somewhere, and yet he was applying pressure to make sure I did just the opposite. I had to throw my shoulders back and stand tall. I had to think, act, and look like an adult.

 

“Come with me and I’ll show you where I want the mines laid.”

“You want me to do it?” I asked in disbelief.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

 

If I was going to survive – if my family was going to survive, then I had to do what I was told. I nodded with as much strength as I could muster in response to my father’s directive and accompanied him as he detailed the areas we would be fortifying. In all, our home was in an advantageous place that I have come to believe he always expected to act as some kind of fortification. We were uphill so no one would sneak up on us, and with our vantage point we also had a superior firing range should we spot a distant enemy.

 

The fields could be turned into trenches; the river was a natural barrier against invasion from the west. While I knew that a person could easily cross it if they wanted to, to do so would give us enough time to snipe off anyone that thought they would get the drop on our base of operations. The woods were always a danger, but by the same token they could be converted into lookout and scout positions. If need be, they could be set ablaze and the enemy cooked alive within them. These things I was told with a rapid-fire pacing as my father explained to me the intricacies of combat. We would require watch towers to ensure that no aerial raids were coming, and the bunker he had built beneath our house would need to be expanded if we were going to accommodate the other warriors we had taken on.

 

There was definitely a storm on the horizon. Just as I felt the wind brush against my face, I could also sense the approaching chaos. I do not know if I should blame Uncle Valgor for what happened. Perhaps if he stayed where he was we would have been able to easily repel any invaders, or if he had not challenged my father so openly my mother would not have gone out as she would. But in that moment I realized the lesson that my mother tried to teach me those years ago – the lesson that I bristled under.

 

It didn’t matter whether or not something if might have happened, all that we needed to concern ourselves with was what did happen. There was now a war going on and the Clan Daue was in its most vulnerable position ever. The odds were certainly against us if Vace and Hundar were working together, and although I wanted nothing more than to make them pay for what they had done to my brother and mother, I could not forget that thinking like that was what had gotten us into so much trouble.

 

As though my father knew that I was coming to understand the ways of a warrior, he turned his attention to me. “So what do you think we should do, Siana?”

 

I wasn’t quite certain how to answer. I knew that attacking preemptively was a mistake. While defense would be nice, no Mandalorian would want to be stricken and not strike back. There was only one answer that seemed right to me – my first instinct. I didn’t question it and responded with confidence.

 

“We should persevere,” I said.

“So we shall.”

 

We made our way back to the home. Bird the Dog began running alongside us, seemingly aware that something in the air had changed. I still wanted to cry, but I had learned how to keep it buried deep inside of myself. The walk came to an end when we were at the porch.

 

“So are you ready for tomorrow?” My father asked. I looked at him without bothering to mask my confusion.

“Tomorrow?”

 

He placed his hand on my shoulder and nodded. “I can’t afford to look after my daughter in the coming times, Siana. I’m going to need a Mandalorian warrior at my side.”

 

But that transition required an act that I didn’t know if I was ready for. I opened my mouth in disbelief and then closed it. The denials that were welling up in me were weak; far weaker than the crying I had done previously. The Clan Daue needed me to act like a Mandalorian woman now, not a child. I had to sacrifice; I had to be willing to lose it all if it meant helping my people. My mother and Cassir had done that in the north.

 

The least I could do was continue that legacy.

 

“I’m ready,” I told him. I was scared and he knew it, but I managed to hide it just as he was whatever he was feeling. He gave me another pat on the head and then entered our home. I looked to Bird the Dog and sat down on the porch. When he nuzzled his head against me, I laid my head down and cried into his fur. I got rid of everything that I was holding onto: my fear, my sorrow, my grief, and my anguish. I emptied myself completely of these things, because I could not afford to carry them with what was on the horizon.

 

This was to be the last time that Siana Daue cried.

Tomorrow, I would become a woman of the Clan Daue.

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Chapter Eight: Verd’goten.

 

I had never been in this part of the forest before, and I knew that I would have to rely on the few tools I had to survive. My father had given me two weapons: a dagger that I now wore about my neck on a thin cord, and an antiquated blaster rifle that he said my mother had used during her verd’goten. I knew that the dagger was not the sharpest, nor the rifle the most accurate. I was going to have to rely on the only other thing I had at my disposal:

 

My training.

 

This was what the last ten years had been all about; this was what everything came down to. Every sacrifice that my mother and Astra made culminated at this point. The legacy of the Clan Daue depended on my ability to be resourceful and bold, and as I refused to do anything other than continue that legacy I knew that there was but one option. I was going to survive and complete my initiation.

 

Father gave me a single directive before he left me in the middle of the forest: kill the most dangerous creature that you can find. The meaning behind it was simple and powerful. I could be the type of person that didn’t look for a challenge and killed a rabbit, or I could be the type of person that hunted down a worthy opponent and slew it for the honor of my family. Both options could be seen as Mandalorian choices: being clever and focusing on the words ‘can find’, or being brave and focusing on the words ‘most dangerous’.

 

As a member of Clan Daue I knew that I could only select the latter. To do anything but would be a disservice to those that had come before me and greatly diminish their sacrifices. A crying girl had been left outside of the forest: it would be a strong woman that emerged from within.

 

I did not know where I should look; I knew only that I should look. The forest was foreign to me and I felt through it as a blind person might a new room. There were vague similarities to the one near my home: the trees were similar, the shrubbery could be considered related, but for every similarity there was also a stark difference. To further compound the situation I felt a constant cold chill racing through the area. I had nothing but a thin tunic and a pair of pants with which to protect myself from the elements. The trace amounts of sunlight that streamed through the treetops told me that it was not yet noon. The best I could hope for was that I completed my mission before night fell. Then, the cold would become unbearable.

 

Futilely, I tried to convince myself that I needed only to worry about the present and not what was going on outside of my verd’goten. I wanted to believe that I could rise above my concerns and focus only on that which pertained to my graduation as a warrior, yet with each second that passed I found my mind pulled back to the outside world. How were we going to be able to overcome the combined might of the Vacians and Hundarii if we had already lost most of our warriors? How would we be able to avenge Mother or Cassir if we didn’t have tools with which to fend off the invading tide?

 

The chirping of birds penetrated my awareness, but did little to draw me away from my thoughts. At that moment, Astra, Vasmus, and the others were marching in search of supplies. Father was back at home, preparing it with his workers for whatever was to come our way. All of my life I had thought that we would continue in Grandfather Regimus’ steps, and in a matter of months that had changed. We were at war, and there would be nothing that could change that until the land was saturated with blood once again. Clan Daue no longer needed farmers, it needed warriors.

 

I would become a warrior.

 

I came to a sudden halt as I heard something in the distance. It was a minute rustling that slipped through the din of the forest and touched my ear. When I looked in the direction of the sound I saw a shrub moving slowly, and then saw the head of an iriaz emerge from within. Although they were naturally native to Dantooine, Grandfather Regimus had imported some of additional food supplies for roaming Mandalorians and the predators of the forest. It looked at me, bleated once, and then took off in the opposite direction. An iriaz would not do for my kill, anyway. Even with its spiraling horns and powerful legs, it was more game than opponent.

 

Somewhere in the forest there was an adversary worthy of my skill and when I found it, I would emerge victorious. I had not been given any food rations when I left, but I knew which things could be eaten from the forest floor. Mushrooms were always dangerous, but they also supplied the most nourishment if properly selected. Berries, also, had a good deal of toxicity to them, but the rhymes that my mother had taught me assured me that there were some that were harmless.

 

Red and blue; nature’s wealth. Red and black; depletes your health.

 

When I had learned the song I thought that it was childish and silly, but thinking of my mother singing it then made me feel a bit warmer. I knew that if I thought for too long on her though, that I would become distraught and lose my focus. Unwittingly I began to hum the tune to myself and by the time that I realized I was, was too engaged in the activity to bother stopping. It made me feel less scared. It made me feel more like a Mandalorian.

 

I tore a strip from the bottom of my tunic and used it to fashion a pouch. Carefully, I collected the berries that I saw that were not poisonous and picked up a few that were. Their utility would come in handy later, but that was something that I tried not to concern myself with for the time being. As I walked, I popped a few of the healthy berries into my mouth and chewed soundlessly. I’d need my energy not only to stay alert, but also to keep warm. Until noon rolled around I was going to be doomed with cold, and when evening fell I’d be shivering for certain.

 

At the latter end of autumn, animals were beginning to search for hibernation chambers. This meant that the larger creatures like bears and tigers were more than likely already sleeping, although the possibility that some were still foraging for their last meal presented itself. It was wise to remember that I may have been a hunter, but that I was also potentially one of the hunted. There were creatures in the forest that not even a squad of Mandalorian veterans could overcome, and if I drew the attention of any of them I was surely going to die.

 

After the berries had all been eaten, I used the pouch I had created to crush up the poisonous one I’d found. Once they were made into a paste, I unsheathed my dagger and stabbed it into the pouch. With the bag folded around my hand, I coated the dagger as best I could and then removed it. The faintly red and black sheen attributed to the blade was all that I could hope for. If I had to use my dagger I was more than likely going to die, but the irritant that the poison offered might give me a second longer to prepare for that eventuality. With the pouch now empty, I placed it in my pocket and resheathed the dagger.

 

Walking about aimlessly was going to burn away my entire caloric intake. I decided to climb a tree and see if I could spot any signs of potential predators or larger fauna. The forest was sparse in one direction, but I knew that there was also less chance of encountering anything within it. Any predator that was still around would be lurking deeper in the forest, and the only way to get to them would be braving the shaded groves and praying that I saw them before they saw me. If it was the other way around, I was doomed.

 

I descended from the tree and made my way toward the darkened patch of woods. If I ran I’d burn too many calories, and if I walked I’d become too cold. Jogging proved the best means of movement, and it also gave me just enough awareness of my surroundings that if I needed to sprint away I could without my muscles being cold. By the time that I made it to the woods the sun was higher and thus they were just a little bit brighter. Shadows still lurked, but I could at the very least see where I was going.

 

This was a world different from any I had seen before. While the majority of the forest was unknown to me, the deeper parts of it were unprecedented. I stood still and looked around, admiring the majesty of the wilderness. Once more the chirping of birds sounded, and as I looked up a pair flitted over head and deeper into the darkened area before me. There was a certain degree of vibrancy – of life, to that secluded patch of trees that I could not have anticipated until I stepped within and although I knew I was going to encounter shadows, I did not expect for those shadows to be bursting with life.

 

My right hand fitted against my rifle’s stock, no doubt an attempt to bolster my resolve as I began walking forth. Somewhere in this part of the forest, I knew, was my quarry. The only problem was that this was not my territory; I had no advantage when it came to the hunt. While some may have continued to search, I instead thought back to the iriaz I had seen. I had to do more than aimlessly wander about. I needed to do more than think like a Mandalorian. I needed to be a Mandalorian.

 

The dagger that hung around my neck was removed and I turned my attention to a nearby tree. Noon was fast approaching and the most time I would have to work with light had arrived with it. I used the edge of the dagger and began stripping away pieces of bark, bit by bit. It was going to take hours before I had even come close to completing what I wanted, but preparing seemed better than wasting time hopelessly searching. With long pieces of bark on hand, I sat against the tree and placed my rifle to the side. What was to follow was nothing short of mind-numbing.

 

When I was doing it I did not want to think about braiding the bark into rope, so now I hardly want to revisit the moment. It is safe to imagine that a thirteen year old, working with little light, and afraid that at any point in time an animal would leap out and eat her, was hardly the most careful of workers, but I was the most driven. With the light that noon gave me I continued to toil at my task, carefully braiding and pulling as my mother had shown me countless times in the past. My plan was going to require more than a simple thin piece of rope, though. It needed to be tough and thick enough to stop a moving target. This meant that every fiber had to be braided again, and each piece of length strengthened with a solid knot.

 

My fingers bled; my eyes hurt from straining against the darkness, but I did not give up. Once I had finally completed a respectable piece of rope, I wound it over my shoulder and began with the length back into the lighter parts of the forest. There were still iriaz around; I could feel it. I laid the rope against the ground and tied one end against a tree, then stepped away and allowed the other end to remain slack. My stomach growled, but the berries that I found had to be put to better use. I ground them up with my hands and smeared them along the surrounding trees, then placed the remnants on the floor. To sate myself I licked at my stained fingers, but that did more to whet my appetite than appease it.

 

Now was the time to wait. I had been waiting for thirteen years to become an adult; I told myself that I could wait another few hours. If there were any iriaz about, which the dropping I had seen and the scent on the air told me there were, then they would have to be drawn to the happenstance smorgasbord that I created for them. If luck favored me it would not be a buck that made its way past me, but perhaps a young doe or even a fawn: anything that wouldn’t take too much of a struggle to bring down. Crouching behind a tree, I tightened my hold on the rope and tried my best to be patient.

 

I thought again of our home, which was now absent everyone but my father. The thought of our dinner table, once so full and gay, did not leave me without bittersweet memories, but the accumulation of tears brought with them tinges of joy. They were remembrances to cherish, in which our family had been complete and whole. There were dark days ahead of us, yes, but there too was a brightness in the past that could help guide us through them.

 

I did not need to think of Astra marching with others, because I could remember when she had shown me how to fish. I did not need to think of my mother’s death, because I could remember when she taught me the rhyme I’d used to identify berries. Father wasn’t a warrior – he could still be a farmer, tilling the land with as much dedication as anyone. Cassir and Polus didn’t need to be dead: they were still my older brothers, fighting endlessly and yet at the same time expressing their love. I didn’t need to be terrified, because I was doing what they all wanted of me.

 

Another pair of birds flew over head, this time chattering more gaily than the previous had. I broke away from my memories and saw that in the distance an iriaz was sniffing the air. More than likely it caught my scent, but more importantly it was enjoying the promise of berries. The few that I had gathered were perhaps some of the last in the forest, and with the wind flushing the forest with their scent; it had to be a draw. It was a bit larger than I would have liked, but not so large that my plan was doomed to failure. So long as it took my bait, I would be in business.

 

The chirping of the birds was all that punctuated the low, doleful whistling of the wind as it wound its way about me. The iriaz could easily turn around and render my plan useless. Furthermore, if it did then I would be without any means of recovering the time lost. I had to hope that luck was on my side and that it would come my way. I remember grinding my teeth as I waited and hearing my heart in my ears. More than anything else, I needed this to work. My clan needed it to work.

 

I almost cried with joy when I heard the soft galloping of the iriaz’ hooves against the ground. My trap had worked in enticing it. With the berries a few meters beyond me it was going to plod as quickly as it could to the bounty. My fingers were alive with energy as I drew my breath in and counted the sound of each clopping stride. The closer it came, the more I prepared myself for impact.

 

And then it was in position.

 

I pulled with all of my might against the rope and brought it ripping up from the ground. The iriaz was in mid stride when it was caught and its hind legs struck soundly against the cord. I heard it bleat in dismay, before it toppled over. There was still struggle to it, and I could feel the rope sliding away from me. I dug my heels into the ground and pulled back, every trained muscle group I had responding to my call. The crunches that Astra forced on me came back as my core strength proved to be enough to further upset the iriaz’ balance, and after bucking again, it fell onto its side. I had to act and I had to act quickly.

 

With the animal disoriented, I lifted my blaster rifle and rushed to its side. It was getting back up when my rifle’s stock descended upon the side of its head, crashing with enough force to cause it to bleat again before toppling back down. Still it struggled to rise, and still I hit again. I did not want to kill it, but the animal had to be subdued. With the third strike it remained down. I checked its breathing and then quickly set to the next part of my plan.

 

It would be a lie to say that I was not grinning from ear to ear at that moment. I used the end of the rope to the Iriaz’s back feet together, and then undid the knot by the tree and drug it behind me. The conditioning and training that I had been through made it seem like the act of dragging a 45 kilogram animal was not at all a difficult thing. When considering I barely weighed more than that at the age of thirteen, it went a long way to explain just how vigorously I had trained. The unconscious critter slid against the ground easily, and I took my prize back to the darker part of the woods.

 

I did not stop where I had been before. Loitering on the outskirts of the shaded grove was not going to get me the results I wanted. Each meter that passed as I moved deeper into the woods seemed to imply a new level of bravery. It was when I could no longer see the lighter forest that I stopped and set to work once more. Nearby trees were robbed of low-lying branches. I used my dagger to get the healthiest stakes possible and pinned them into the ground, then after cutting my rope in half, tied one end of it to the iriaz’ forelegs and the other to its hind. I checked its breathing to make sure that it was still alive, and then slipped back into the darkness. Rather than wait on the ground floor, I climbed another tree and removed my rifle from my shoulder. It was another waiting game, but I knew this one would not take as long.

 

The iriaz slowly began to awaken, its bleating at first disoriented and then alarmed. It struggled against the stakes, but I had been smart enough to wedge them deep into the ground so as to prevent its surging muscles from purchasing any real hold on the earth. I watched it struggle feebly and could not help but feel some degree of sorrow. I made the mistake of looking into its eyes and saw that they were large and innocent, pleading in despair. To prevent that from going any further, I looked away and tried my best not to listen to its frantic bleats of protest.

 

I wondered if the iriaz had a family somewhere. I wondered if it was foraging so that it could feed its young. I knew that I should never identify with my target, but it was easier to be told that than to abide by it. My smile went from wide to dim, from dim to nonexistent. It was truly pathetic to hear it struggle, and I was only glad that eventually it exhausted its strength and lay still once more. I used the scope of my rifle to make sure that it was still breathing and then scanned the darkness again.

 

That rifle was in no way a work of art; in fact, I am certain that it was probably the worst one I had ever held. My mother did well to keep it up to date, but as I held it I could already tell it wasn’t properly fashioned and more than likely had been handed down to her from her mother. An heirloom was nice to look at, but much less utile when a person was waiting to shoot something and claim their adulthood. Yet in thinking that some time ago my mother had been in a similar position, thinking a similar thought, with the same brought a smile to my face. I thought of that small smile she’d given in the holo-recording and pressed the stock to my shoulder once more.

 

I was going to become like her, no matter what it took.

 

Something happened that completely changed my surroundings. Where once there had been the sound of birds flying about or small fauna rustling for food, now everything was silent. Only the wind dared to play through the area, and even then it brought with it a distinctive chill that seemed separate from the temperature about me. I looked back to the iriaz and saw that it was struggling again. When it bleated, there was urgency to it that denied its previous attempts to escape. It was not content to surrender; it thrashed so mightily that I could see its bones beginning to strain against muscle. I looked through my scope and instantly understood what had happened.

 

That coldness that I had felt, the chill that was carried on the wind, was indeed caused by something different than a drop in temperature. The sun was beginning to set and the woods were much darker; however, I could make out the outline of something moving toward the iriaz. Slowly and with purpose it prowled; its body low to the ground. Each shadow that it passed presented a band of beige fur to my eye, and to counteract the shade I flicked on my infrared input in the scope. That primal chill became just a bit colder: I was scared.

 

Sneaking as it was, the nexu was within a dozen meters from my bait. I could tell from the tension in its haunches that it could clear that distance in a single bound. I remembered seeing a similar creature with my father, although to my credit this one seemed to be an adolescent. Just as I was out hunting to become an adult, so too was it. I felt myself seizing up with fear as my finger refused to fit against the trigger of my blaster rifle. Was the weapon reliable enough to fire and clear the distance? If not, could I get off another shot before the nexu lunged for me?

 

There was always the choice to look for something else to kill, but my gut told me that I was meant to fight this animal, this time. I watched as its twin tails lashed contemplatively behind it. The iriaz was almost free of its bonds and something told me the nexu was waiting for it to break free so that it could pounce on it. I had to assume that it delighted in taking its prey on the run. The intelligence in that alone was enough to fill me fill even more dread, but I knew I had no other option but to continue. I fit my finger against my trigger and breathed in.

 

It doesn’t matter the type of predator it is, so long as you know it’s a predator.

 

If failed in this, I was going to become the prey. The iriaz was almost free and once it stood I was certain that the nexu would snatch it up and flee. Despite the cold chill that washed over me I could feel sweat beading on my brow; running alongside my head and dripping against my tunic. I took in another breath and forced myself to look at the nexu. My trembling finger was brought into line and I squeezed the trigger.

 

Nothing happened.

 

I heard the click of the trigger moving, but did not see any flash from my rifle’s muzzle. The nexu looked up instantly at the sound and through the scope I could see that its glistening teeth were pulled back into the same malicious smile that the other had. So eager was I to set to hunting that I forgot to do the most important thing that any Mandalorian could: make sure that my weapon was functional. Not that it much mattered at that point. The nexu saw me and knew that I was going to be a more interesting kill.

 

Unless you have had a jungle cat rush at you, I don’t believe it is a describable experience. The nexu tensed for just a second before it bounded into the air and toward me. I had begun to stand in the tree and the impact of its striking the tree was enough to dislodge me. Rifle and all, I fell to the forest floor and landed with enough force to jar my senses. It was instinct and muscle memory alone that told me to roll away as I hit the ground, for the nexu finished swiping at the tree and leaped down to land before me. It circled to the left and I lifted my hand to my dagger. I no longer had the ability to be afraid: I was in fight mode.

 

My encounter with the octopus so many years ago had taught me that I had the fight in me to survive; however, it also revealed to me that fight alone was not enough to survive. There would be no Bird the Dog to rescue me: my father was not going to be there to see me through this. The nexu’s teeth were so large and spread apart that as the rising moon caught against them they reflected light. It lowered its torso and gave its hindparts a bit of a wag as it prepared to leap again. I knew that it was faster, stronger, and more agile than I. The only thing I had to work with was my mind.

 

The nexu lunged for me again. I dove to my left and unsheathed my dagger. The swipe that the predator unleashed in my direction tore into my shoulder and instantly caused my tunic to run red with blood. I knew that I wanted to panic, but I held myself together long enough to fight off the sensation. My knife-fighting lessons had taught me long ago to hold the dagger so that it was against my forearm, rather than how one might hold a sword. The nexu was playing with me; I could see in its four-eyes that at any given time it could bring our fight to an end. That sadistic glint in it was all that I had going for me. As far as it knew I was just a little girl with a bloody shoulder. It didn’t know that I was a Mandalorian – that I refused to die.

 

Against it batted at me. This time when it did, I stepped closer and swiped outward with my dagger. The movement was enough to brush against the side of its face, and open just a bit of the skin hidden beneath its fur. It gave me an irritated shriek and rose to its hind legs to pounce on me. I rolled against the ground, using my good shoulder to my advantage. I felt its claws dig into my leg, but I pulled myself away. Now bleeding from my shoulder and leg I knew that I should have given up fighting, but my adrenal impulses were too great. The pain of training had prepared me for this: my armor was my spirit.

 

I scrambled for another tree and began to climb it as quickly as I could. The nexu snorted beneath me and began after me, effortlessly climbing as I tried to outrace it. I used my dagger to cut a branch, then dropped to the ground with it. The nexu fell after me. When it turned about to bite me, I thrust the branch forward and into its mouth. I can’t speak to just how much bite force a nexu has, but I can assume it’s much greater than that of even the most vicious dog. When the nexu snapped down, the branch stabbed up through the roof of its mouth.

 

I’ll never forget the roar that it gave me then. I could feel my bones turning to jelly from fear, but I didn’t give up my fight to survive. Hobbling as I was, I made my way over to the iriaz and began cutting at its ropes with my dagger. Just as I freed its legs, the nexu came back for me. In what I have to assume was an act of my ancestors looking down on me from above, the iriaz kicked outward just as it came inward, and jammed its sharp hooves into the nexu’s face. It was hardly enough to stop it, but the moment the nexu turned its hatred on the iriaz gave me time to act.

 

As I had expected, the nexu could devour the iriaz in a matter of seconds. I listened to the sound of bone and sinew being torn asunder under the pressure of its jaws, mixed with its own feral roaring as it gorged itself. With little time on my hands, I ran back over to my rifle and looked down at it. The fastest that I had ever field stripped a rifle before was within 45 seconds. Losing blood and frightened, I knew it’d be near impossible for me to hit that mark again.

 

With little light and jittery nerves, I tried to think of my mother telling me how to complete the actions. The nexu was still eating and I could hear that the iriaz was no longer struggling. The takedown pins popped out quickly, and the rifle fell into two portioned halves. I had to make a split decision: the malfunction was either in the upper or the lower partition. My gut told me to look for the upper, so I did. I checked the chamber and was about to move to the lower when I decided to see how the energy convergence port was holding up. What I found inside nearly stunned me.

 

Glistening against the moonlight, my mother’s ring was wedged in place. My father must have expected me to check my weapon like any smart Mandalorian would have done and found it, but as I had been in such a hurry to prove myself I had not even given it a second thought. I slipped the ring onto my finger and felt its cool, metallic surface calm me. It was just as cold as my mother’s voice had been when she told me how to do a field repair. Don’t panic – focus. I could almost hear her voice on the wind that brushed by me then.

 

I glanced over my shoulder and saw that the nexu was near finished with the iriaz. I had mere seconds to complete the reassembly. My hands no longer shook though, and my mind was surprisingly clear. I inhaled and began fitting the pieces of the weapon back together. The stock was the last to slide in to place and the pins attached. I turned around just as the nexu rose from its position and began to prowl for me again. I knew that the weapon did not have the stopping power to simply fire blindly at the nexu, so I would have to wait for the right time to strike.

 

The nexu gave me another of its smiles, though this time it was far more menacing. The remnants of blood and viscera from the iriaz caused a red tint to be applied to its teeth, and as it parted the shadows toward me I knew that this would be my last chance to overcome it. I can say with pride now that my hand did not shake; that my eyes did not move away from it as it made those strides for me. Live or die, I was going to do it like a Mandalorian. There was no fear, because I was ready to accept the consequences of whatever was to come.

 

Seeing all of those teeth open toward me was like something out of a nightmare, but I refused to give into the primal fear that I felt. I knew that I had only one shot and that if I didn’t take it at the right moment then I was going to become a meal for the jungle cat. I found strength in thinking of my family and the pride that they would have had if they saw me at that moment.

 

I, Siana Daue, was a warrior.

 

When the nexu lunged for me, I narrowed my eyes. My finger compressed the trigger and I remember thinking for a moment that I had made a mistake in placing the rifle back together. The thought was soon dispelled from the muzzle of my blaster rifle was projected a single, red bolt that tore through the air and struck the back of the nexu’s throat. The flash from the blast was enough to light the area. I could see the madness in the creature’s eyes as it prepared to descend upon me, and I knew that it could see the determination in mine.

 

The nexu slammed into me. At first, I thought that I had failed and it was going to eat me, but though the force of its body was enough to pin me down, it did not move after that. I lay with the deceased predator on top of me and breathed in and out slowly. The blood that escaped its wound; the life energy that fled from it… I could feel it wash over me. In claiming its life I had become the predator. I luxuriated in that sensation for several minutes.

 

At last I managed to free myself from the nexu and looked over the battle scene. My arm was bleeding, my leg was torn, but I had won. I ripped the sleeve of my tunic off and tied off the wound on my arm. The one on my leg was treated by removing the lower half of my pant leg with my dagger, then wrapping it tightly. I didn’t feel happy or excited. I wasn’t even afraid anymore. Passing from childhood to adulthood felt like waking up from a long sleep.

 

I was alive. That was all that mattered.

 

With my dagger as my guide, I began to pry the nexu’s teeth out of its mouth. While I knew that there was no need to bring back the entire beast, I had seen people take trophies form their defeated enemies before. In the moonlight I could see just how impressive the adolescent nexu was, and was all the more proud of myself. Alone, I had killed it. No child could do that; no mere person. Only a Mandalorian was strong enough – smart enough, to accomplish a task like that.

 

Once I had the nexu’s teeth in my pouch I fashioned a walking stick from a nearby branch. The art of killing the animal was only the half of it. Now, I had to find my way back to my father. I did not know which direction to walk in, but I knew that if I did not walk I would die from blood loss. It was a cold enough night already, and the thick blood on my clothing told me that if I didn’t move soon I’d simply fall asleep and not awaken again.

 

It was not until I had left the shaded forest that I realized precipitation was falling from the sky. Flaky and soft, the snow that decorated the area brought with it another cold wind. I recalled that my father had told Vasmus it would snow, and knew that the Clan Daue would be safe for the winter. With my walking stick, I plowed onward and continued through the forest, forever searching for a sign of my father.

 

I found him standing by a tree, our family’s speeder at his side. When he saw me making my way over to him I noticed moisture come to his eyes. His little girl – the last of his children, had emerged from her verd’goten. He was smiling and this time, the smile that he gave was meant only for me. It was filled with pride and joy, and did more to alleviate my pain than the medical kit he had brought with him did.

 

“Your mother would be so proud of you, Siana,” he told me as he finished cleaning my wounds. The kit had with it enough bacta to stabilize my blood loss and encourage me to produce more blood, but it would be a week before I was back to top condition. Once I was placed inside of the speeder, he entered as well and draped a blanket over my shoulders.

 

I hugged the blanket closer to myself and closed my eyes.

 

“When Astra and Cassir passed their verd’goten, I told them that I would answer one question for them.” My father’s words carried with them a seriousness that I had never heard before. He was naturally a stern man, but when he spoke then it was as one adult to another. “You can hold off on asking me a question or do it now. That choice is yours.”

 

I understood then why Astra and Cassir had known more about my father than I did. It was not that he hid the information from me, but that I had not yet earned it. Now, with a pocketful of nexu teeth and a blanket fighting the cold, I had joined their ranks.

 

There were millions of things that I could ask about: Grandfather Regimus, my father’s youth, why he had not gone with Uncle Valgor, what would happen to our family in the future. I had before me the chance to ask anything, and yet only one thing came to my mind. I hugged the blanket to myself more.

 

“A few years ago I woke up in the middle of the night,” I began. My father’s attention rested on me, undivided. “I had this… feeling to find you and so I did. When I saw you, you were sitting outside in the field and were putting your hands into the dirt.” What I was to say next felt foolish, but I didn’t want to let the chance to know what I had seen pass without being answered. “And then you made it rain, Father. How did you make it rain?”

 

My father did the unexpected then: he grinned. “You weren’t very good at sneaking around back then, Siana. I knew that you were out there – by the Preserver, a blind man could have followed the trail you left behind.” After he finished speaking, my father looked me in my eyes. “I didn’t make it rain, Siana – I can’t, and I doubt anyone can do that. I asked it to rain, just as I asked it to snow.”

 

I was not satisfied with the answer. “But how?”

“I can’t really say,” my father admitted with a bit of shame. “It’s just something I have always been able to do. I listen to the wind and speak to it in return, and sometimes it grants me my wishes. It’s a system of barter.”

“Bartering,” I repeated. “What does it ask of you in return?”

 

I’ll never forget my father’s answer, because I knew it before he said it. He began the speeder’s engine and I felt warm air rushing out to protect me from the cold.

 

“It asks only that we persevere,” he told me. “Through all that is to come, Siana, we have to persevere.”

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Chapter Nine: War.

 

My father was an excellent farmer, but Commander Decimus was a phenomenal leader. True to his predictions, the Hundar-Vace Coalition did not cross into Daue territory with the onset of snowfall. In that span of time we were given freedom to prepare for the coming storm and did so without relenting. I understand now that the occupation of a farmer only makes sense for a soldier: it keeps the mind focused upon the same principles. Just as a farmer must be diligent and disciplined, so too must a commander. We were his crop now and he was as attentive to us as would have been any potential harvest.

 

Those that had not gone to fight with Uncle Valgor were, for the most part, as committed to farming as my father had been. They were not the most violent or adventurous sort, but Commander Decimus’ earnest call for action had managed to draw them from their outlying communities. Order was established and regiments formed. There were veteran fighters who had been just as wild as my father in their younger days. These people were given the distinction of captains. Captains Aden, Holgar, and Setarin each commanded the respect of everyone beneath them. Underneath them were the squad leaders, of which younger but experienced Mandalorians such as Astra or Vasmus were designated. The youngest of the warriors fell within their squads.

 

Against the bracing cold of winter, we drilled and prepared for the approaching battles. Each Mandalorian was a competent warrior, but we had not learned to fight as a cohesive unit. Commander Decimus was mindful of this and quickly established a series of standardized commands that we were to learn. Hand signals, I found, were both interesting and frustrating to learn. You did not have time to recall what one meant, you had to know it and respond instantly.

 

A hand to the left of squad leader’s head meant that there was an ambush approaching: a hand to the right of the squad leader’s head meant to stop. If she jerked her thumb over her shoulder, well, we knew to retreat – immediately. There was no time to second guess or look to see what someone else did. We all needed to be prepared, and we all needed to know our heads from our asses. If we didn’t, then we were only placing our squad mates in danger.

 

When we were not drilling in the snow, we were being rotated to help with digging trenches. The Commander’s view was that if we were always working together then we would form even tighter bonds. Much to my delight I was assigned to Astra, who worked me as tirelessly as she did anyone else. I was shown no favor, nor did I expect to receive any. I was no longer a child to be coddled; no longer her little sister to be watched over. I was a soldier like the men and women next to me, and I earned my place with hard work and dedication.

 

I could state that it was pride in my people that motivated me to train as fiercely as I did, but that would be a lie. I wanted to be the best soldier that I could be when it came time to visit my vengeance upon those that had so harmed my family. I wished for more hours to be in the day so that I could work harder and longer, and the more that I accomplished the more I wished to see done. Even in the week after my verd’goten, when I was still injured from my fight with the nexu, I made my best efforts to fight through the pain.

 

Little by little, day by day, my family’s home was transformed into a stronghold. The fields were turned into a series of trenches to protect us from aerial raid, while the forest was filled with various traps designed to slow or even obliterate an enemy force. Several kilometers downwind from us was a land bridge through which an army could march; Commander Decimus had fortifications built nearby to offer support in the event of a raid. With little less than six months we could not become lavish with our defenses, but they were sturdy and relatively reliable. Through blizzards and freezing nights we worked. Some fell ill, but still others grew stronger.

 

While our homestead was converted into a worthy battleground, my father was not for a moment at rest. During the day he was Commander Decimus, but at night he worked on a separate project. There was no longer any “free time”; if you were not working to strengthen your body then you were working to strengthen the base. With the vast majority of Clan Daue’s warriors lost in the face of Uncle Valgor’s defeat, the rest of us had to pick up the slack. There were days when I would forget to sleep and still others where I would pass out and be near comatose as a result. Astra forced me to be more mindful of that and ordered me to take short naps on occasion.

 

The culmination of my father’s hard work was shown to me one day after we had finished digging pits in the forest. At the bottom of each pit was aligned a series of spikes. It was hard work to dig through frozen ground, but with machinery and sheer willpower we managed. I was fatigued, but satisfied to know that I had not another drop of energy in me. It was when I was returning to camp that he called me aside.

 

“You’ve been working harder than anyone else, Siana,” he told me with a trace amount of pride on his voice. “A shame it would for such a brave warrior to be without a proper symbol of her status.”

 

While I was prepared to say that it was nothing more than my duty, the latter part of the comment caused me to pause. Before I could question him further, he indicated a crate upon which a blanket was draped. I removed the blanket and saw glistening under it a brand new set of armor, a mixture of beige and white. Not only could I work like a warrior, but now I could look like one.

 

I was still growing and my father took that in mind when he outfitted my uniform. It was sleek and heavy, yet gave off enough room for me to move freely and without inhibition. There was still room for me to grow into it, and although I was uncertain that it would fit in all areas, I was more impressed by the craftsmanship than anything else. While most people would have been drawn to the helmet with its polarized visor and multiple visual systems, I at once paid attention to the shoulder pauldrons. Using the nexu teeth that I had collected, my father outlined the edges with them to give my armor a sharper and more ferocious look.

 

Like any Mandalorian, I was going to have to learn to wear my armor.

 

It was not necessary that we train in armor, but I did it out of a desire to further learn how best to move in it. When Astra saw me, with my brand new armor and self-satisfied grin, she couldn’t help but take a shot.

 

“Looking good,” she quipped. “Maybe one day you’ll even have a scratch on it.”

I couldn’t get a word in before Fendar chimed in after her: “She’d have to be ready for the frontlines first.”

 

The members of my squad: Fendar, Loktun, and Darol were like brothers to me. Fendar had come to us following the initial defeats that Uncle Valgor faced in the North and was instrumental in my training before my verd’goten. He was easy to talk to and generally reminded me of Cassir. Loktun and Darol were both distant cousins that were roused to combat by Commander Decimus’ call. They were well disciplined and took directions without question. Not surprisingly, as the youngest of the squad, I received the most flak.

 

We did not always get along. There were times, in fact, when we various members of our squad or of different squads would almost come to blows. Sometimes to resolve the tension Commander Decimus or a squad leader would order that the two people arguing settle it in a fight. Hidden tensions were a killer, but two people that fought said everything that needed to be said. If you won the fight, you won the argument – you’d still hug your brother or sister after it and say that you loved them.

 

I had my fights. I won some. I lost some. But I never hated anyone because of them.

 

My newfound position in the clan did not go without notice. Children that were a few years away from their verd’goten looked at me training with the others as though I was a mythical creature. They could easily see their fathers and mothers fighting as they were because they were older, but I was fresh from my verd’goten and looked not much different than they did. Before I had my armor in fact, one of the older clan members had called me ad’ika, a term often used for children. I hit him so fast that he was taken off balance and then followed up with a kick for good measure.

 

In the end, I lost that fight, but in defending my honor I won his respect. No one made that mistake again: they knew who I was.

 

More than anything else, I wanted to have stories to tell the children as I had done to me when I was younger. Those that fought with Uncle Valgor had tales of Vacian cowardice and Hundarii incompetence, and I felt just a little bit of jealousy when they wowed groups with them. I knew that in time I would have my own stories to tell, so I used their brilliant storytelling to give me cause to develop my own. I wanted to be able to captivate the minds of my juniors and win the respect of my seniors by speaking of my bravery. When the winter ended, I knew that I would be given that chance.

 

Slowly, we began to be able to read one another with an almost mechanical efficiency. When we did our physical training in the morning, we were in synch. When we ate, we were in synch. When went to sleep, we were in synch. The military discipline of Clan Daue, I believe, was on par with some of the Republic’s more distinguished regiments. We may not have had all of the weaponry and support that the Coalition did, but we were each champions in our own rights. Our strength would be in our efficiency and dedication.

 

Untested as I was, I couldn’t wait until I had the chance to prove what a warrior I was.

 

So it was that when the cold winds began to abate and the ice on the ground started to melt, that our squad was sent out to begin preparing for any signs of Vacians or Hundarii. No doubt that had expected us to have suffered through the cold winter and be weaker targets in the spring. After all, our bravest warriors were numbered amongst their kills. They were in the superior position and could pick off our holdout regime at their leisure. Thinking like that was only a natural conclusion for them.

 

It was also their gravest mistake.

 

We received word from Captain Setarin’s scouts that a contingent of Coalition soldiers had been spotted making their way toward the land bridge. As they were the ones hunting us, we had the advantage of being on the defensive but for the most part they had the advantage of surprise. Both sides were well rested, which left the fate of the battle up to who could impose their will with the least amount of effort. From what the reports related to us, the Coalition did not expect us to put up very much of a fight.

 

At the head of their march was none other a Vacian captain named Kogus. Although I had never before met the man or heard of him, Fendar informed me that he had been at the Battle of Traitor’s Reach – the same battle in which his clansmen had betrayed my mother. I became singularly focused on claiming his life for myself, but Commander Decimus refused to send our squad out to meet him. He said that it would be better to let them wear themselves down first on our defenses, and then swoop around and cut down those that remained.

 

Not surprisingly, I was outraged. The possibility that one of the men responsible for my mother’s death would be killed by anyone other than me brought me no joy. I attempted to bring the matter up to Commander Decimus, but as I had become aware during the winter when he gave an official command it was not one that I had any hope of getting him to change. His word was that of my leader, and I was out of place for daring to question it. I swallowed the bitterness of my rage and did as I was instructed.

 

Along with several other squads, we were sent to wait in the forest for the call to attack. It was a clear day and while we could see out of the forest, it would be difficult to see us in the shade. With my visor set to infrared vision, I could make out the distant figures of the Coalitions’ men moving for the land bridge. Once or twice, one even moved into range of my rifle. Each time that one did, Astra lifted her left hand back to stop me from taking the shot. I knew that just as much as I wanted to kill them, she wanted to twice as much. Perhaps she was gesturing to herself as well.

 

In addition to the soldiers that marched under Captain Kogus’ command, there were two battle tanks taking up the rear of their progression. Without a doubt those weapons would be invaluable to the Coalition’s planned assault. My father made a show of placing token regiments near the bridge. When the enemy engaged them they were to put up a small fight and then retreat back toward our base. Hopefully the arrogance of the Coalition forces would send them on the offensive and our trap could be sprung.

 

I distinctly remember not feeling fear as I waited for the call to attack. In coming battles I would know panic, terror, and horror, but as a virgin to war I didn’t comprehend that the training drills we had completed were but a small taste of what was to come. Kogus’ men continued to pass by us. I fit my hand against the blaster rifle I had been given. Although I said that I wanted to use a carbine and get “up close and personal” in the fight, Astra refused it and instead gave the role to Fendar. When the time came to battle, I knew I’d get my chance to do prove myself.

 

The sound of combat began not long after the majority of Kogus’ command marched past us. In the distance I could see the explosions of fighting and then heard across the com-link a call to retreat. We were to wait ten seconds after it to engage. By the time that I hit six in my head, I heard Fendar stand up beside me.

 

OYA, ALIIT DAUE!” He shouted.

 

And then the world became alive with combat.

 

I responded to Astra’s hand signal to move forward without needing to ask in which direction she wanted us to go. Crouched low as I was, I kept my blaster rifle level with my side until were within range. Kogus’ men had turned at the sound of Fendar’s shout, but were not prepared for the volume of fire that met them when we surged out to meet them. They had, after all, expected to find cowardly children hiding under the veil of a farmer. What they were introduced to instead was nothing short of a war machine.

 

Despite the sounds of combat that raced over my head, the only thing that I heard was my own breathing. I dropped to my knee when I was in range of the enemy and fit my rifle’s stock against my shoulder. My visor lined the shot up for me, but just as the reticule illuminated that I had one of the Coalition’s men in my sights, I hesitated and pulled up, discharging a shot just above his shoulder. He turned toward me, but before he could lift his weapon Loktun dropped him with two well placed shots to his chest. I felt his hand on my shoulder give me a pat, before he continued forth and went after the soldiers in the clearing.

 

I had the shot but I didn’t take it. Why did I hesitate – worse yet, why did I move my blaster away from the target? I knew that I could have taken his life: he was unawares when I sighted him, yet my finger refused to pull the trigger so long as my reticule was on him. I slowed my advance and tried to convince myself that the hesitation was a byproduct of simply being unlucky, but I knew that was hardly the case. There was a part to war that I had not yet learned, because it could not be taught.

 

I had yet to kill a man.

 

My contemplative state was shattered when the sound of an explosion to my right threw me to the ground. Everything went silent, and then a shrill cry pieced my ears. While I had heard an explosion before, I had never before been the target of one. Completely disoriented, I tried to remember how to use my legs and for a moment feared that they were gone. I began to struggle to my feet, my nerves frayed. Astra was at my side in a second and helped me up. I flailed a bit once I was on my feet.

 

“Are you alright?” She asked, her voice muffled by her helmet.

 

I nodded to her and took a testing step forward. Nothing ached, and other than my adrenal rush I didn’t feel like I was too bad off. I glanced over my shoulder and saw that three meters from me, an explosive had taken out a tree. I could have easily been that tree. War was not the place to lose one’s nerve.

 

“I’m good,” I told her. I was still shaking, but I knew that if I didn’t get back into the fight I never would be able to. She remained beside me, the blackness of her visor hardly concealing the worry she felt. I was still her kid sister, even if I walked like a Mandalorian. “I can fight, Astra.”

 

“Are you sure?”

“Damn sure.”

 

She knocked on the side of my helmet and then jerked her head toward the battlefield. When she started to run out to meet the others, I was right behind her. The source for the explosion became apparent when I saw that one of the tanks was turning about to fire at our new position. Kogus’ men were falling back from the bridge, but took heavy losses as the defenders turned on them to harry them across.

 

It became more than evident that they had been expecting us to fold under pressure. It also became more than evident that we were going to make them regret that. Caught between the bridge defenders and the forest attackers, Kogus’ men could only retreat back the way that they came if they braved our line of assault. I lined up for another shot and this time shot the leg out from a soldier. I knew that it wouldn’t gain me much credit, but it was better to take him down than leave him open to attack one of my brothers.

 

Captain Holgar’s voice crackled over my helmet’s intercom. “We need those tanks neutralized, now!

 

No sooner had his command gone out than did another one bombard the forest. I heard shouts of pain rise up from behind me, but to make my way any closer to the tanks would put me directly in the line of Kogus’ men’s suppressive fire. Even if we had them pinned in, they were making sure that they took as many of us out as possible. The Heads-up Display on my helmet flashed with Astra’s name followed by the word “Squad”. This told me that the command would be only shared amongst our group.

 

Fall back to the forest line and regroup. We’re going to try to take out the right tank out.

“Roger that, squad leader,” we all affirmed.

 

Once we had returned to the shelter of the trees, I looked toward the others. Loktun’s armor showed a bit of wear and tear, but otherwise they all seemed fine. Fendar punched me in the shoulder, an action that made me take a step back.

 

“Well look who’s got her first battle scars!” He cheered. I looked to my shoulder and saw that the bomb’s shrapnel had indeed marked my armor just a bit. Without knowing it, I had acquired my first mark as a warrior.

 

Astra lifted her hand to stop us from conversing. The sound of battle was still raging behind her. “Keep your mouths shut and listen up. Like Captain Holgar said we need to take one of those tanks down. I want Darol, Loktun, and Siana to give us cover fire. Once we have an opening, Fendar and I will go for the throat.”

 

I listened as the others affirmed but did not speak initially. Astra looked at me again.

 

“Siana, do you understand?”

I nodded, but didn’t speak.

“I need to hear you say you understand.”

 

The previous fearlessness that I experienced was fast disappearing. The battle scar on my armor may have been neat to look at, but it also meant that I had come dangerously close to dying. More importantly, if Astra and Fendar went in, there was a good chance they’d be killed. I tried my best to shelf my apprehension.

 

“I’ve got it, squad leader,” I said.

“Then let’s move it out!”

 

Before returning to the fight we made sure that our rifles were charged and then swung into position. Astra’s name once more appeared on my HUD, though this time “Forest-All” was in parenthesis beside it.

 

We’re moving to intercept the right most tank, I’m setting it as our primary now.” After she spoke her helmet transmitted the coordinates of the tank in question. On the HUD a small map opened, a red dot indicating just where she was speaking of. “Give us as much cover fire as you can.

 

Vasmus’ voice responded. “You’ve got it. Hit them with everything you’ve got!

 

We were cleared to move. As Astra had indicated, Loktun, Darol, and I moved first into position. The other squads were already firing on the Coalition’s men, which greatly took pressure off of us as we moved. Once close enough, I knelt and assumed the proper shooting position. Shooting blindly didn’t bother me at all: if I hit someone incidentally it wasn’t necessarily difficult for me to swallow. Our suppressive fire opened a direct path to the left, which Fendar and Astra took advantage of.

 

My breath caught in my throat as I watched Fendar and Astra move for their target. Loktun and Darol were faster shots than me and provided them most of the cover; for the most part my shots warded anyone away from melee range. Despite the fact that the battle was going in our favor, I knew that a life could be ended in a matter of seconds. I didn’t want Fendar to die. I didn’t want Astra to die even more. All I could hope for was that one of them would make it to the tank before its crew was alerted to their actions.

 

Astra’s heavy repeater came alive as she placed herself within distance of the tank. Although most small arm fire did little to deter one, her weapon fired enough rounds at a fast enough pace to place dents in its armor. The tank predictably began to turn. I unleashed as many shots as I could at the side of the tank, but my bolts did nothing to it. Watching the gargantuan vehicle turn in my sister’s direction was the last thing I wanted to do.

 

I saw Captain Kogus’ personal guard moving to escape our fire. The tanks were distracting the majority of our attention, which gave him the perfect opportunity to retreat. I recalled what Fendar had said, that he had been partially responsible for my mother’s death, and for a second considered chasing after him. If he escaped, someone else could and probably would kill him. I had the chance and the opportunity. Just as I began to shout a battle cry, I was brought to a halt by an unexpected event.

 

The sound of a powerful shot tore through the air and before I knew it, Loktun was thrown back into the ground. He cried out in pain and I turned away from Kogus and to him. The smoldering hole that had been opened in his armor told me everything that I needed to know. Loktun’s name appeared on my HUD.

 

I’m hit!

 

He coughed as he tried to sit up, but I could hear the wetness in his voice. From the sound of it, if he didn’t receive assistance soon then he would drown in his own blood. Both Darol and I looked in the direction of the blaster bolt and saw that it had come from the Coalition soldier that I clipped in the leg. He may have been slowed, but like any Mandalorian worth his salt he was not going to remain out of the fight because of it.

 

Kogus was no longer a threat and I couldn’t keep track of Astra’s mission. She was supposed to disarm the tank – my job was to get rid of this threat to our squad. Darol moved to shoot the wounded soldier, but lost out in the exchange. I heard him grunt as a blaster bolt pierced his chest armor. I do not doubt that the soldier picked the other two off before me because he knew I was the least experienced. He could smell my indecisiveness.

 

I trained my rifle to the fallen one as he moved his weapon in my direction. At the distance I was at there was no way that I could miss him. There was less than a second for me to make my decision: either I shot him, or he shot me. The glinting of sunlight against his visor instantly brought to my mind the image of the nexu with its malicious smile, salivating at the thought of finishing me off. There wasn’t time to think; there wasn’t time to rationalize. I had to do a single thing before he did. I had to pull the trigger.

 

I did.

 

The soldier’s body lurched before a crimson pool escaped the wound in his head.

 

I got him!” My shout was far giddier than it should have been, in retrospect. But I didn’t care – I had killed a man and protected my squad mates.

 

Just as I called out my shot, I heard the tank explode. Astra and Fendar came running back to our position and instantly took to dragging Darol and Loktun back. I picked myself up and helped carry them backward. With the destruction of the tank, the other tank’s crew abandoned their vehicle and ran with the fleeing masses of the Coalition’s forces.

 

We had turned the Coalition back. Clan Daue was victorious!

 

By the time that we made it back to base, Loktun and Darol were both in critical condition. We handed them over to the medical staff and prayed that they made it through the battle. There was, of course, no shame in dying in combat – but we had so many more conflicts left ahead of us. I was still too filled with the exhilaration of my first kill to contemplate how I could have prevented their injuries.

 

I thought back to the message my mother had given my father, when she had almost joked with him. “30 more and I’ve caught up to you,” she had said. I did not know how many kills my father had – I didn’t know how many my mother did before she died, but I did know one thing.

 

I lifted a hand to my pauldrons and ran my finger against the sharpened nexu teeth. My thumb ruptured and I sucked in before sliding the finger along the inside of the pauldron used to cut me. That was my first mark – my first step as a warrior.

 

One.

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Chapter Ten: Stories.

 

The night following our victory over the Coalition’s expeditionary force, we partied.

 

Certain that the Coalition had not anticipated our spirited defense, Commander Decimus gave us leave to conduct a relatively civil victory rally. While I know that he would have preferred we remained disciplined, I think he was also keenly aware of the reality that victories were a rare treat and it was better to give us something to look forward to when times were difficult. Our reserves of alcohol were brought out and rations were doubled. I think the fact that we had captured one of the Coalition’s tanks probably also played a part in why the commander was in such a good mood. We had, after all, had a commendable victory.

 

True, the scale of the battle was in no way decisive for the overall war, but it was more than nothing. Several of our men had been killed, even more wounded, but the losses on the Coalition’s side were much graver. The Coalition still greatly outnumbered us and had superior weaponry, but if the day’s battle was any indication then the members of Clan Daue were going to give the Vacian traitors and the Hundarii dogs a run for their money.

 

What would have been a chilly night was turned quite warm when soldiers began to light bonfires. Our celebrations were tinged with sorrow for those that we lost, but their sacrifices were seen as all the more cause to cheer. They had become champions of our cause; proven heroes that had fought and died for their clansmen. Most areas of the compound were bathed in the warm glow of fire. Songs were sung in Mando’a and the more intoxicated people became the more prone they were to sing them even louder than the previous round had been. Overall, it was an extremely happy occasion.

 

But I fought to avoid the merriment as though it were a plague.

 

It may have been difficult to find a dark spot to sit in, but I did just that. With my back to the medical barracks that we had created, I watched a friendly spar that was taking place downhill of me. For all of my life I had romanticized the notion of winning a battle, yet once I had been part of one I found that my stomach was sour and my mind would not relinquish its hold upon all that had gone wrong. I rubbed my index finger against my healing thumb and looked to the ground.

 

Why had I not killed the Coalition soldier that had nearly ended the lives of two of my squad mates – of two of my family members? Had it been Mother or Cassir there, would I have been the cause for them to die all over again? Worse yet the soldier knew that I was the least threatening. Yes, I had found the impetus to kill him, but by then the damage of my foolishness was already felt. Neverminding that the man I had shot at could have killed even more people had Loktun not been there to correct my error, I simply couldn’t comprehend that I had so horribly failed my mission.

 

When we returned to camp, I made certain to avoid Commander Decimus. I may have claimed a kill, but it did not feel prudent to brag about it when my weakness had nearly cost two lives in exchange. Those that were now engaging in the festivities had earned their gaiety through acting as Mandalorians. Push had come to shove, and for far too long I acted like a child rather than an adult. I felt that I did not deserve my armor, my weapons, or even the designation of being a warrior.

 

The worst part of it all though, was that I had a story to tell. I had survived a battle – hell, a mortar had gone off just behind me. The children of the compound would have looked up to me with pride had I told them that, but though I could have I knew that I lacked the words to do it. I didn’t deserve their praise, because I hadn’t earned it. The series of fortunate events that kept me from being one of the people that the bonfires were lift for had not been a result of my training. Any of them could have done it. Anyone could have tagged along behind her comrades and soaked up a victory passively.

 

I saw a girl sitting on her father’s shoulders as they watched one of the spars. Her position was no different than mine: I watched the battle, but had I ever really been a part of it? The more that I thought of it, the more melancholy I became, and the more I hated myself for not being what I thought a warrior should be. I was so lost within my lethargy that I missed it when Bird pushed his head against my hand. The whimper that he gave me spoke to his concern, but other than pat him absently I could not think of anything to do. I wasn’t going to do what I wanted to do, that was for sure.

 

I was never going to cry again.

 

I picked up a nearby stick and pitched it down the hill. Bird gave me a warm yap and then raced after it. While most dogs would have brought the stick back, I knew that Bird would content himself with rolling around on the stick or trying to eat it for the next thirty minutes or so. Worse yet, I knew that he knew how to play the game: he simply chose not to. His antics did earn from me a very small smile as I hugged my legs to my chest.

 

“What a dumb dog,” Astra said as she came to stand alongside me. I instantly broke my hold on my legs and lowered them so as not to seem as weak as I know I appeared. I looked up to her, but as I did she sat down and gave me a pat on the knee. “How’re you holding up?”

 

The smile that she gave me seemed like one that any clansman would give another, but there was still attributed to it just a bit of warmth that I knew she reserved for me. “Fine,” I lied.

 

I know that lying to my sister was a pointless task: she could read me without even having to blink. I was, after all, the little girl that at one time had hidden in her arms when there were thunderstorms. If there was anyone that knew me it was her. She continued to look at me for a few seconds and then directed her eyes to the spar. “It was a good battle, wasn’t it?”

 

Her segue was not lost upon me, and I was thankful that she did not expose my lie. I heard her take a swig of from her cantina and was not surprised that in lowering it she was forced to let off a little hiss.

 

“It was,” I agreed emptily. “You did a good job in leading us.”

“All things considered,” she said. I expected her to yell at me then for getting Loktun and Darol injured, but she instead pressed her cantina against my chest. “Drink up.”

 

I had once been given a sip of her beer and nearly choked to death on it. The memory came back to me with such clarity that I couldn’t help but blush. Then I had practically begged her for a taste. Now, she was offering me it freely. I lifted my hands to the cantina and then shook my head.

 

“I don’t really deserve it.”

“Why?”

“Because I didn’t fight like a warrior.”

 

It brought me no pride to say those words; in fact, I wanted to crawl into myself and die. “If I had been braver,” I continued, “Loktun and Darol would be fine. I had a clear shot on the guy that hit them and I choked. I went for his leg instead of his chest.”

 

I preemptively flinched in preparation for her denouncement, but the only thing that she did was nod.

 

“It’s hard to pull the trigger,” she told me. I had been so engrossed within my own world that I forgot she had also not been in a battle before that day. Not only did she have to quickly overcome her fear, but she also had to command us through ours. I felt extremely childish when thinking of things in that manner. “But you did do it, and in the end Loktun and Darol are alive because of your ability.”

 

“I fixed my own mistake,” I protested.

“Which is a lot better than letting that mistake fix you. There was a lot going on out there, Sis.” She tapped the cantina and then jerked her thumb upward. “Now drink up; you’re hogging my booze.”

 

She gave me a warm smile that managed to penetrate my dejection. Timidly, I lifted the cantina and tilted my head back. Just as before the taste of the bitter fluid in my mouth was nothing to celebrate, but the moment that I swallowed it I knew that I was not going to gag again. I definitely gasped when I lowered it and tears came to my eyes as the spiced fluid worked through my system, but I didn’t gag! I handed the cantina back to Astra, who chuckled and stood up.

 

“Now come on. You’re missing out on the celebrations by sulking up here. Do you really think Loktun would want you to not be dancing over the fact that he’s alive?”

Astra’s smirk gained one from me, and I was soon standing as well. “I guess if you put it that way…”

 

There were aspects to being an adult that I still had not grasped, because they simply came with time. Children rarely had time to dance and while I knew that I should have been able to do what the others were doing, I could not from simply nervousness. There was nothing provocative to the dancing; it was a lively display of our vitality in the face of death. With the firelight illuminating the area for those that did dance, I was given the freedom of watching others dance.

 

Astra attempted to pull me into the midst of the dancers, but I shyly declined and stepped away. Over the laughter and singing of the others I could hear her call me a chicken, but other than smile meekly I wasn’t prepared to do anything. Hardly to my surprise, as soon as she was amongst the others they tried their best to be the ones to spin and jump alongside her. In many ways, I think that our style of dance was an exercise more than a show of delight.

 

My sister was like aflame and the men around her moths. They could not help but be drawn to her: she was in the prime of her life physically and militaristically a proven fighter. I often think back to seeing her bright red hair nearly glow as she twisted and turned with the others. The stomping that they gave off was nearly as loud as the blaster fire we had survived through earlier, and it only grew louder as those in the audience began to stomp their feet and clap in cadence with the songs that were being sung.

 

Lethargic, melancholy, downtrodden, or dejected – no person could withstand the vibrancy that came from so many people sharing their cheer. I may not have had the courage to dance with them, but I could feel the vibrations of the stomping and hear the rhythm of the clapping. The chaos of the dancing in front of me was breathtakingly beautiful. Men swung from the arms of men, women from women, men from women, and women from men. There was no order to it other than that they all wore bright smiles on their faces and laughed as they moved between partners. I clapped as well, overcome with the energy of the moment.

 

I felt something tap me on the shoulder and turned only to hear a laugh to my side. Without needing to look I shoved my elbow backward and was rewarded with the sound of hearing Fendar chuckle as he was moved by the nudge.

 

“I see that your sister found you,” he called over the din of those around us in their revelries. I had to fight to hear him, but raised my voice as well.

“Obviously!”

 

Fendar looked over to my sister then and nodded his head. “Why don’t you get in the mix?”

“Dancing isn’t my thing.”

Fendar grinned. “Then what is?”

“Not dancing!”

 

The deflection gained me another of his grins, which made me smile back in response. I really did like Fendar; he was smart and incredibly funny. There was an easygoing nature to him that made me wonder how he had been so completely detached from his killing, but I supposed that in time all people learned to just shelf their grief. More importantly, he was attractive in a way that I would come to appreciate more as I grew older. When he gave me one of his boyish grins, I’d be lying to say that I didn’t melt just a little inside.

 

“Well, I’m going to dance,” he told me. “If you’re too scared to do it, then that’s on you!”

 

I glanced to those around me and saw that there were no looks of judgment on their faces. We were all here to have fun, after all. I took in a shallow breath and followed after him. Fendar held out his hand to me and gave me another clever grin, which encouraged me to take the hand. He was strong – far stronger than I had imagined, as he pulled me further into the circle. I had watched the others long enough to know the general flow of things, although with so many taller people crowding about me it was a little daunting to get into the groove of things.

 

Fendar caught me by my forearm and spun around with me, then twisted me and allowed momentum alone to move me out, before bringing back inward. I was disoriented enough in simply being there, but his advanced moves did more than enough to confuse me. Despite how awkward I knew that I had to look, I gave myself over to the actions and was surprised when I felt him release me and Astra take my arm. She cocked her eyebrows at me as she smiled, then spun me around just as Fendar did.

 

I cannot properly describe the way in which the energy of one person flows into another in the midst of a dancing circle, but I was entirely engrossed in it. No sooner had I gotten used to dancing with one partner, or in one particular way, than was I spun to another and given a chance to learn their particular movements. In many ways, the gestures were like personalized handshakes. My throat was beginning to become sore and my head hurt from the laughter as I saw Astra effortlessly spin Fendar away from her and move onto another target. There was aggression to the dancing, but it was extremely fun.

 

It was as though the act of dancing transformed us all into one, single Mandalorian. The audience became the heart, whose beat filled us with the necessary energy to go on. Each person beside us was a different organ, working together to produce the functions necessary for life. The dueling nature of dance partners switching was akin to lungs compressing and inflating. Everything was so colorful; so alive. I may have been the odd girl out in all of it, but everyone made me feel as though I belonged.

 

Eventually I had to escape from the circle. I may have survived my first battle, but I didn’t have the mental endurance to keep up with everything that was going on. I looked back to see where Fendar was and found that once more he was dancing with Astra. I felt a pang of jealousy at that, but didn’t allow it to darken my mood too much. We may have both been adults, but I was certain he didn’t see me as anyone of interest.

 

The duality of that idea bothered me though, and although I tried not to let it sink in further, as I walked I found myself approaching dejection once more. How was it fair that I was old enough to die alongside, but people still didn’t see me as being their equal in all areas? I knew that in some places Mandalorians wed when they were young, but those marriages were generally between two freshly minted warriors. Fendar was much closer to Astra’s age than mine, and although I may have greatly desired his grins, I also knew that I was in no way a contender for my sister. I was still changing, but she was an already completed product of Mandalorian living.

 

I thought about returning to the circle to wash away my approaching dejection, but I feared that in doing so I might contaminate the others. Closer to the building that had once been our house, I could see another fire had been started and some older members of our clan were sitting around it. No doubt, the rowdiness of the younger generation was something they didn’t need to put up with. Across from them were a collection of children, who sat in and listened to whatever stories they were being told.

 

I had once been in their position – and to be honest, when I was there I knew where I was supposed to be. As an older warrior you were someone to look up to. As a younger warrior you were someone to respect. As a child you were someone that looked up to and respected everyone, but what about those like me that had just passed their verd’goten and had nothing to their names? I’d scrambled through a battle. I didn’t deserve to sit alongside any of the older soldiers, but I wasn’t tested enough to really connect with the other group yet either.

 

Despite my better wishes, I approached the house – now known as Command, with as much stealth as I could muster. When I heard the voices of the others, I slowed down and listened to what was being said. As I had expected, it was another story. The children that sat down were enraptured by it, and the admiration that they felt was something that I greatly desired to experience for myself.

 

It was Captain Setarin that spoke for the time being. I had very little occasion to speak with the commanders, but Captain Setarin always seemed exceptionally grim to me. He was older than my father, but lacked the ability to lead due to various injuries he had received as a youth. According to Fendar, the captain was kept up more from the grace of stimulants and engineering than his own body’s will to go on. Still, he was a sound tactician and more importantly, knew how to tell a good story.

 

I listened to him regale the children with stories of his exploits as a pirate, when he braved Republic space to harass whichever local government was in his path. I had a hard time reconciling the gray-haired, crease-faced countenance of the old man with the idea that he had at one time been young and dashing, but as I had also once thought similar of my father I knew not to deny him the benefit of the doubt. The children certainly ate up everything that he had to say, and I was smiling just a bit as well.

 

More important than how we reacted though, was what I saw upon the face of my father, or Captains Holgar and Aden. They were reliving the events through Setarin’s words. Even if they had not been there, it was a time period that they had all survived through and one that each held dear. The brotherhood and camaraderie that they knew was something that I wanted to have one day.

 

Bird barked at me and drew my attention away from the story. After taking so much effort to be stealthy, the damn mutt had effectively blown my cover. I hushed him with a wave of my hand, but when I looked back I saw that my father was looking in my direction. I thought to pretend I hadn’t seen him and walk on by, but just as I got the idea he waved me over. It would have been rude to ignore him. Muttering about Bird, I closed the distance between us.

 

“This is our youngest warrior,” he said to the children. “Siana. She survived her first battle today.”

 

Through the winter many of the children had seen me and come to understand that I was a warrior, but in hearing that I had lived through a battle their eyes brightened. I saw Captain Setarin give me a respectful nod, and I returned it with a salute.

 

“First one’s always the hardest,” the captain told me with fondness to his voice. “Scary as all get out, but that rush is what you need to get through it. Savor it, warrior, because in days to come you’ll wish you felt it that purely again.”

 

If I found it difficult to believe he had once been young, I was shocked to hear that he had too been afraid. I muttered something, probably an agreement, and tried my best not to reveal just how nervous I was to stand as I was: between children and adults. Bird nudged my hand.

 

“She has a story to tell us, too.” My father said.

“I do?”

 

My cheeks darkened. I didn’t want to tell the children about my battle – about how scared I was or how I’d almost let two people die. My father’s nod was indicative of the fact that he expected me to speak, but I had no words to share. He pointed at me.

 

“Tell them about what you wear around your neck. How’d you get that again?”

 

I lifted my hand to my neck and felt the thin cord on which my mother’s ring hung. With my back to the children I couldn’t help but smile at my father, who gave me a little smile and nod of encouragement in return. I turned around and looked to the children, who all watched me as stars did the moon. Focused, attentive – alert.

 

“You see this?” I asked as I pulled the cord out from my armor so that my mother’s ring could shine against the warm firelight. “This was my mother’s ring. Her name was Sala Daue and she was a brave warrior. Her ring was lost a long time ago, but I found it.”

 

For the first time, I didn’t feel sorrow when I spoke of my mother. Yes, she was dead, but when I told a story and included her in it, it was as though she gained life anew. These children would keep her name in their heads, and so she would go on to live through them, as she did through me. That realization was perhaps the nicest I had felt all day, and although the dancing circle may have warmed my mind; this one warmed my heart.

 

One of the children, a blonde with freckles, rubbed his eye and looked at me. “How did you find it?”

 

I thought back to Astra’s story and all that came with it. Bird pushed his head against my hand, so I patted him once for measure. “Well, I wasn’t much older than you are now… my sister told me that my mother’s ring was lost, and I decided I was going to find it. I snuck out late at night and Bird…”

 

I began to recall the event and saw that there was much more interest in the eyes of the children. I truly was someone that they looked up to, because I was what they would become, just as Astra was what I hoped to become some day. They would ask me questions in the middle of my tale and I would stop to answer them, often having to think hard on just what it was that I had done at the time. When a nonsensical question came up, I’d crack a joke in response and we’d all laugh.

 

The description of the cold water – of the octopus and its fight with me, were almost as frightening to repeat then as they were when they happened! But I animated the actions; I moved my arms or held them out wide to indicate sizes and encourage more interest from my captive audience. They called Bird over and gave him an endless tide of petting when I related how he bravely jumped into the water to fight the villainous octopus. Slowly, the numbers of those in attendance to my story began to increase until I couldn’t help but notice.

 

Older clansmen, those that I had looked up to or listened to, were now engrossed with my tale. I saw Astra’s delight in hearing me share my tale, and had to fight to blush when I saw that Fendar was just as engaged in my story.

 

The cheers that came when I mentioned how my father had come to my rescue were so great that I think he may have even become a little embarrassed for all the attention he received. To finish it all off, I held my mother’s ring up. Everyone applauded.

 

As it turned out, I did have a story to tell.

And it was a pretty damn good one, too.

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Chapter Eleven: Half Truths.

 

Loktun recovered. Darol did not.

 

During the funeral service for our fallen brothers, I told myself I would not weep. In addition to Darol, three other men were killed in the confrontation between our clan and the Coalition’s forces. When you hear news like that – that four soldiers were lost on one side and fifty on another, it makes it seem as though everything is okay. In the sobering light of the next morning, I knew that that was hardly the truth. One casualty was one too many. Those were four lives that were over: four brothers that we would never again see.

 

I cannot speak to how every Mandalorian funeral is carried out, but I can shed some light on how the Clan Daue performed one. If the body was recovered, such as with the men that died during the Battle of Land’s Bridge, each body is lain out for all to see. The soldier is kept in his armor and whichever mortal wound that claimed is life left on full display. That was the last testament to his bravery: a gaping hole in the chest; the half of one’s head that had not been blown apart. We did not deny what we had happened to our champions, we instead immortalized them for it.

 

Unless the Mandalorian expressly stated that he wanted one of his clansmen to claim his weaponry, it was buried in his grave. Our belief was that when a Mandalorian died, his soul would go on still to fight greater and more inspiring battles. For a father to give his son a weapon was a sign of absolute love, for that would be one less weapon he had at his side when he fought within the afterlife. It is an odd thing, to move from warfare to eternal warfare, but it engendered within us a sense of purpose. We Mandalorians were meant to fight. We would literally die for the honor of doing it forever.

 

I suppose that in a way, the notion that we are meant to be fighters is why so many Mandalorians found my father’s views to be difficult ones to grasp. When I was told as a child that we were destined to join a never-ending battle, I asked him how we were preparing for it by tilling the land. His response was, as always, straight to the point and yet surprisingly profound: because soldiers need to eat too.

 

But the man that stood at the head of the funeral at that moment was not a soft spoken farmer informing his wide-eyed daughter about the afterlife. It was a stern commander that called the attention of his subordinates; a man whose presence demanded the unmitigated respect of those beneath him. Our lines were divided by position in the clan’s hierarchy. Closest to the fallen men were the captains, followed by the lieutenants, and then the rank-and-file soldiers like me. Behind us were the children, who would be given a chance to view the dead only after everyone else had.

 

Commander Decimus spoke to us about the horrors of war and how with every brilliant victory that we gained, so too would we experience a horrific loss. He detailed to us how even if we knew that our fallen brothers were in better places, that ultimately it was we who would suffer their absence. They had given their lives for us, and the least that we could do was ensure that their sacrifice was not an empty one. Hearing him speak, it sounded as though he was interring his own flesh and blood, and as the clan leader I knew that in many ways he was doing just that. While my father may have loved me, Commander Decimus loved all of us.

 

There was no room for favoritism in clan affairs.

 

After the commander finished with his address, the others that knew the fallen were given a chance to speak. For the most part they were references to how brave or heroic a member of the clan had been: how they had overcome many obstacles to prevent their brothers from coming to harm. At times a pained laugh was taken from us as we thought of a soldier’s antics. At other times, we all fell silent and commemorated the loss. Astra spoke of Darol, detailing how he had been a personality too large for this life. I admired my sister’s ability to speak without showing her inner turmoil; to act without revealing her sadness.

 

A final viewing was then given to those in attendance. One by one, we were each given to visit the remains of the deceased. Tokens were left all of them, many of which were tucked into armor or placed within their hands. When my turn’s squad turn came to pay our respects, I couldn’t move. I did not want to be close to Darol, whose life was lost as a direct result of my incompetence. It would have been easy for me to slip away, but Astra refused it.

 

I looked into her eyes, silently pleading for her to show me mercy, but she would have none of it. At the time I believed that she was punishing me for my weakness, but I now understand why it was she made me see what happened. It was simple enough to state that our actions hurt others, but actually seeing it brought a new level to that reality. I began to choke up when I saw Darol, pale as ash and with a blue tint to his lips. He almost looked as though he was asleep, and in disbelief I placed my hand to his cheek. He was cold and unbearable stiff. If I failed to act as a Mandalorian again, Astra wanted me to see what could happen.

 

Next time, it might be her on that slab, or my father. Next time I might be the one being forced to give a speech about how much I loved a person that had died. Astra forgave me as her sister, but as a squad leader she had to make certain that I understood what I had done. I kept my tears in check.

 

When the children were given a chance to view the bodies, many of them cried. To hear their wailing mingling with the sadness of the air was almost too much for me to stand. I began to sniff, but Astra shot me a heated glare. I didn’t have the luxury of crying – I didn’t have the right. Once everyone had been given their chance to view the fallen, the members of the given squad were assigned to carry him to the mass grave. This would become the fallen soldier’s new squad – his new unit.

 

I stood over Darol and fought not to cry as I looked down at him. Loktun was still in the hospital, which left Fendar, Astra, and I to carry him. Astra made sure that I had to carry him by the shoulders, thus forcing me to look down at what I had done one final time. It was a cruel thing to do to be certain, but her persistence in driving home her point was exactly what I needed.

 

“May the sons of Mandalore move from this world into the next,” Commander Decimus ordered from his position at the head of the funeral. He saluted and all in attendance did the same. Under the sound of their saluting I lifted a hand and covered my mouth to conceal a gasp. Looking at Darol was more than I could stomach, but Astra’s stare told me that I had no choice. “Ni su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum!

 

The phrase that the commander said translated to “I am still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.” It was the command that we had to prepare our bodies to be moved to the mass grave. When he called out the name of one of the fallen men, then we would move him from his platform to the grave. I forced myself to grab hold of Darol’s cold shoulders and kept from letting my tears fall. Fendar looked no less sorrowful than I did, but he held up under the pressure better. Of course, his pressure was not in knowing that he was responsible for the death of a brother.

 

“Faros,” Commander Decimus stated. The members of his squad carried him over to the grave and lowered him into it. One they had done so; each murmured a soft farewell. The squad leader took the fallen Mandalorian’s helmet and placed it on a stake, marking him as one of the braves that now filled it. I felt my stomach beginning to roil – I sincerely feared I would vomit.

 

“Varin,” the commander’s called was answered with another body being added to the grave. Once his helmet was added to the stake, the next was called. “Jadonir.”

 

And then it was our turn.

 

“Darol.”

 

I did not think that I would be able to find the strength to keep from breaking down if I tried to lift him, but despite my great fear when I lifted, he moved easily. I moved with the others to carry Darol gracefully over to the appropriate burial ground, and then lowered him against the side. He rolled, limply, down the pit and came to rest alongside the other corpses. To his right was his weaponry. I looked down at him as his lifeless eyes gazed back at me. My cheeks were wet, but I did not utter a sound of sorrow when I spoke.

 

“Goodbye, Darol,” I whispered. “I’m sorry.” Before departing I gave him a salute and followed after Fendar. When I looked back, I saw that Astra was kneeling alongside the pit. She did well to mask her distress; she was always good at concealing how she felt, but I knew that behind her stern face she was torn up as I was. She fit Darol’s helmet to his stake and said something that only he would know. Just like that, Darol Daue was no more.

 

Despite how stern Astra had been with me during the funeral, when it was all over she hugged an arm around my shoulder and gave me a kiss on the side of the head. I understood what she was saying: she never wanted to lay my helmet on a stake. There was to be more festivities to commemorate the dead, but I needed to get away. I excused myself from the company of the others and walked aimlessly away from the compound. If I was going to cry, I wanted to be alone when it happened.

 

I thought of the small funeral service that my mother, Cassir, and the other members of Uncle Valgor’s expeditionary force had been given. There were no speeches or long dirges. We had simply stated that they were going into a better place and left it at that. I knew that to delve deeper into it would have broken my father’s heart, and while he was still holding strong after all of it, there were changes to him that could not be denied. His heart was colder and I could not blame him for it.

 

The dirges that came from the somber celebrations were not lost upon me as I walked. With no one around I was free to cry, and so I did. Like an idiot, at first I told myself that I would only weep a little bit and let it go, but as soon as the floodgates were opened the tears would not stop coming. Each breath that I took became harder to grasp and each sob went deeper into my chest. I hated myself and vowed that under no circumstance would I ever allow another brother to die if I could help it. I would jump in front of a missile if need be, if only to prevent having to bury someone else I loved.

 

I stopped when I came to the tree that I had found Bird in so many years ago. When I told Cadim that I found him a tree, I had not been lying. How he got up there was a mystery to me, but he definitely appreciated his position. Further down the path were the outposts where members of the clan that had paid their respects earlier were now watching the horizon. As I had no intention of speaking to anyone, I looked up at the tree and began to climb it. Once I was seated on a branch, I allowed my tearful reserves to deplete themselves.

 

What I truly feared, what really made me cry, was the possibility that Astra would die because of me. I told myself a thousand times that it would never happen, but the more that I thought of Darol the more that I knew it could. I visualized her falling from my hands and tumbling down into a pit. I imagined that in the same pit were Mother, Cassir, and Cadim. The danger of fear is not that it addresses a perceivable threat, but rather that once unleashed it colors everything in its stain. I had killed the man that killed Darol, but it didn’t make a difference. He was still dead – I didn’t have the ability to change that.

 

I leaned my head back against the tree’s trunk and thought over the battle again. Was there a way that I could have saved Darol other than kill the man that I had shot in the leg? Everything had been happening so quickly. In training we worked to simulate the intensity of combat, but there was no way to accurately prepare the mind for live action and the rush of battle. The scars on my armor spoke to the fact that things did not happen in an orderly manner. All it took was a snap of the fingers and a person could die.

 

The report of the blaster rifles played in my head as I replayed the battle. Fendar and Astra were brave enough to take on a tank alone, and yet I had been incapable of shooting someone center mast. Loktun was fast enough with his blaster to pick off a kill for me, and yet I was incapable of doing it myself. I had so much more to learn about being a Mandalorian, but so little time to do it in. What concerned me most was that even after I had stopped thinking of the chaos of battle, the sounds of combat still rang out in my ears.

 

Was I going crazy?

 

I heard the sound of blaster fire increase and looked around my tree. To my dismay, crimson bolts streamed through the air as two men chased after a third that moved on a speeder bike. I knew that all of our men were supposed to be inside the base and for a moment thought that it was all a ploy to draw us out; however, when one of the blaster bolts struck the speeder and the man atop it fell forward, I knew that there was more to it. A plume of flames shot into the air as the speeder hit a tree, and the man that was knocked off of it struggled up to his feet.

 

I touched my hand to the side of my head, but recalled that my helmet was back at the base. Worse yet, my weapons were also missing. The explosion should have drawn the attention of the outpost, but by the time that they were in the area I was certain that the man being chased would be captured by the Coalition soldiers. My vantage point from the trees showed me that the ones chasing after the fallen man were catching up to him quickly. He turned and shot at them once, then came to the river within which I had fought the octopus.

 

I had to do something. Had I not just vowed to refrain from letting someone die while I watched? I began to scale down the tree, taking two branches at a time, until finally I swung off the lowest and landed at a crouch. I pushed myself up and started running toward the man as he dove into the river and began to swim across. I was still wary of going near the river, but when someone’s life was on the line I knew that I hadn’t the choice to pick and choose between what I was to do. Yes, it may have been a trap, but part of me was hoping that it was. If I died right there, I wouldn’t have to worry about being the cause for anyone else’s death.

 

The only weapon that I had on me was my dagger, and it would do little when placed against people with superior firing range to me. The swimming man cleared the distance of the river and stood. I had by then broken into the lightly populated woods that separated our previous farmstead from the river. I arrived to their edge in time to see the man take a bolt to the back. He let off a groan and fell down; his blaster rifle fell beside him.

 

I heard one of the Coalition soldiers cheer as he identified that he had made his shot. They paused to consider whether or not they should clear the river. There was a chance that the blaster bolt had been enough to end the man’s life, but something told me not to look at it with such a dispassionate view. For whatever reason he had been running for our base: it was only appropriate that I should help him the rest of the way if I could.

 

I scrambled across the clearing between the tree line and the fallen man. Not having expected me to show up, the Coalition soldiers were stunned for only a second before they began to fire across the river at me. I grabbed under the man’s shoulders and began to pull him backward. He groaned pathetically, reason enough for me to keep from giving up. Half way to the tree line and with bolts flying past me, I ran back to the river and grabbed his blaster rifle, slung it over my shoulder, and narrowly avoided being singed in the shoulder for my effort. It was obvious that the shot that hit the man had been a lucky one: they were going to need to cross the river to stop us.

 

I returned to the injured man as the two soldiers splashed into the water. If they made it to the other side before I got him into the tree line then we were doomed. If, by chance, we could make it and I could set up then we were still probably doomed, but there was a sliver of hope. The man groaned with pain each time that I pulled him, but I refused to slow down. He would eventually get over his pain. It’d be much harder to get over a blaster bolt in the head.

 

By the time that we made it to the tree line I looked up and saw that the Coalition soldiers had made it across the river. A bolt struck my pauldron with enough force to make me fall down. I reached out for the man’s chest armor strap and pulled him with me behind a tree.

 

“Whoever you are,” I muttered as I placed my good shoulder against the tree. “I really hope that you’re not a jerk.”

 

I unslung the blaster and placed it into position. Blaster bolts hammered the trees nearest me, but the two soldiers were not willing to rush blindly into what could have been an ambush. I popped up from behind the tree and compressed the rifle’s trigger three times. The spray of shots did not strike either of the soldiers, but they came close enough to prevent them from advancing. When I moved back behind the tree and crouched, I heard the tree’s trunk take on several powerful shot. It wouldn’t stand long under direct attack.

 

The sound of fighting had surely alerted the outpost, but I had no idea how close they were or how long it would take them to send support. The soldiers began to advance warily, and I took that opportunity to swing around once more. I thought of the Coalition soldier that had killed Darol and squeezed the trigger. The man approaching from the right lurched, his head leading the way as he struck the ground. I actually wondered to myself if headshots should be worth one point, or two.

 

A cry of rage emerged from the remaining Coalition soldier. I compressed my trigger but felt nothing happen. The battery was dead on the rifle. This was bad.

 

I threw the rifle down and huffed in frustration. There was still no sound of support coming and the Coalition soldier was almost to me. My ward was unconscious, but I saw that he was still breathing. With nothing left to do, I stepped around the tree with my palms exposed. The soldier paused in his advance.

 

“Giving up, ad’ika?” He asked me. He had the sort of smug amusement on his voice that you’d just love to wipe off with a backhand. Fortunately for me that was the plan.

 

“I don’t know how you Hundarii boot lickers do things, but we Daue don’t give up, shabuir.” It was a word that Cadim had taught me – a word that he said applied to a situation just like this. “Unless you’re afraid to get your shebs handed to you by a ‘little kid’, why don’t you put that rifle down and show me what you’ve got?”

 

It was a lot of trash to talk, but I had no idea what else I could do. He could have very well shot me then and there; I hadn’t a helmet and he couldn’t miss me even he wanted to at that point. But to drive my point home I did the most obnoxious thing that I could think of. I smirked.

 

The sound of his blaster rifle being thrown down directly preceded his battle cry. If nothing else, I had to admire him for wanting to beat me to death with his hands rather than taking the easy kill with his rifle. He was larger than me, more experienced, and more than likely trained to kill Daue. I was smaller, weaker, and more than likely going to die. But I didn’t back down.

 

He hit me with enough force to spin my world around, then slammed his shoulder into my stomach and carried me into a nearby tree. I lifted my legs and clenched them on his sides, the pressure enough to gravely injured his ribs, but to deter me from further the constriction he hit me with in the thigh and forced my leg down. I felt his hand move for my throat, his fingers strong enough to squeeze the life out of me without effort.

 

“Got anything else smart to say?”

 

I let my knee do the talking.

 

The collision of my knee against his groin with forceful enough to make him gag in pain and double over. I coughed in an effort to catch my breath, then ripped his helmet down and slammed my knee directly into his nose. Blood sprayed from the injury, but as he wobbled backward he did not fall down. If I was going to take him down it would require more than a few dirty tactics. Hadn’t I trained for situations like this before?

 

I needed to do something to gain an advantage; something to give myself an edge over someone that was clearly a superior fighter than me. I tried rushing him, but he lowered himself and tossed me effortlessly over his body. I struck the ground, my injured shoulder taking the brunt of the damage, and began to rise only to have him kick me directly in my chest. If not for my chest armor I would have been disabled then and there, but instead I was sent rolling away from him and came to a halt just in time to avoid him knocking my head off with a kick. The air whooshed past my head as I lifted my hands to catch his leg and shoved backward, but once more he flailed and steadied himself. Before I could attack again, he connected swift uppercut into my abdomen, then punched me across the face with so much force that I was sent skittering away in a turn.

 

I hit the ground hard and felt his boot apply itself to my rib. He wasn’t holding back for a second. I rolled away and tried to regain myself, but I felt him grab the back of my shirt and toss me toward the river. My fear of its depths came back then as he dragged me along the ground, then shoved my face into the water. I placed my hands against the muddied silt along the sides, but could not push myself up. To show his sinister nature, the man did it for me.

 

He spat directly in my face.

 

“Not so smug now are you, ad’ika?”

 

There was no reply that I could come up with. I began to scream as he shoved my head back into the water, and felt some of it rush into my lungs. I struggled again against him, but the more I fought the louder he laughed. He pulled me up again and allowed me to gasp, then laughed and shoved my head down once more.

 

It was as though the octopus had taken the form of the brute that was now torturing me. The sadistic satisfaction he took from it was written all over his face. I wasn’t strong enough to break his hold, and each time that he dunked me I knew that I was even closer to death. I felt myself blacking out and gasped when he pulled me up again, some of the water spilling past my lips.

 

“Ready to say you give up?”

 

This time, I spat in his face.

 

“Your loss,” he chuckled.

 

I knew that I wouldn’t be able to survive another round of dunking after the one he was giving me. Each time that he did it he made sure to hold my head down for a little bit longer; the seconds filling me with agonizing pain as my lungs strained. I saw spots before my eyes, and suddenly stopped struggling. My hands slipped against the silt and I went limp.

 

He held me down for an additional three seconds before he pulled me up. I coughed much to his delight. Whatever he was going to say following my cough though, never made it past his lips. The hand that I had slid against the mud – the one that seemed so feeble and weak? In one swift motion I ripped my dagger from my side and stabbed it into his leg. The roar of pain that came from him told me that I had only a few moments to recover myself and prepare for what was to come.

 

I crawled along the muddied banks as best as I could. When I got back up to my feet the stars in front of my eyes had faded, but there were still enough to keep me from feeling confident with what was coming my way. The Coalition soldier ripped my dagger from his leg and tossed it aside.

 

There was one lesson that I had left to use. If it didn’t work, then I was surely going to die.

 

I could see the anger in the man’s eyes – the rage on his voice, but I needed him to be livid. Despite how strained I may have been, I called out to him as I stood up straight.

 

“Tell me, hut’uun, when I kill an aruetycate dar’manda piece of Hutt filth like you, does that detract a number from my kill count? If so, I may just let you win. It’s bad enough your girlfriend over there has sullied my record.”

 

I wanted him livid and that was what I got. I wasn’t surprised that my ploy worked – who would be able to tolerate a smart-mouthed brat calling them a traitorous, soulless coward? He came at me like a hurricane, full of bluster and rage. When he was close enough to me to strike, I turned my back to him and caught hold of his hand, just as my mother had done to me the day that I fought her out of anger. Using his momentum to my advantage, I completed my turn and slung him over my shoulder and into the river.

 

This was where our fight was going to have to be decided.

 

I dove in after him, my fear placed aside as the contest entered its final legs. The Coalition soldier struggled to hit me, but I dove deeper and used my experience in swimming to my advantage. When I came up, I wrapped my arms under his armpits and clasped them behind his neck in a nelson, then clasped my legs about his back. It was the same manner in which the octopus had grabbed me, and as I took a breath in I could not help but hope that it worked.

 

The Coalition soldier was stronger than me, but he was also heavier. With him trapped on his back, I pulled down and then kicked out before wrapping my legs around him again. He surged and thrashed in an attempt to get free of me, but other than exhaust his own energy he did little to get me to release him. I had increased my time underwater to be within the three minute and thirty second range. I didn’t know how long he could hold his breath, but I prayed that it wasn’t much longer.

 

I felt his desperation fueling me as I tightened my hold on him. When finally I felt myself becoming lightheaded I let go of him and surged back to the surface. He broke the water when I did, but after I took two deep breaths in I was pulling him back down into the water. Just like the octopus had, I refused to give him time to reorient himself. My head may have been swimming, but I knew what I was doing. He took delight in nearly drowning me, hadn’t he?

 

I was going to let him experience the same thing before he died.

 

We broke the surface again, but I could feel that the soldier’s energy had all but left him. The wound to his leg was bleeding heavier than I thought it would, and I found myself hoping that I hadn’t nicked his femoral artery. I wanted him to suffer – I wanted all of the Coalition dogs to suffer. We went down one last time and I made an effort to kick my legs and take us even further down. I felt him go limp.

 

For another twenty seconds I kept him underwater, unsure if he was faking as I had been. When nothing changed, I released him and saw him float back toward the surface. I swam up after him and threw my head back once I breached to catch my breath. The soldier continued to float, face down in the water. I was certain that he wouldn’t be getting out of the water again.

 

Just as I made my way over to the shore I glanced over my shoulder. The soldier bobbed once in the water, and then suddenly vanished beneath it. Had he dove inward I would have been concerned, but the fact that he was pulled down by his feet told me all that I needed to know. I left the river and its protector to their meal, and made my way back to the injured soldier who’d pulled me into this mess.

 

“You had better not be dead,” I complained as I fell to my knees beside him. I could finally hear the support troops arriving, but by then the most they could do was give us a ride back to the base. My lungs hurt, I was certain that the soldier had popped my jaw out of socket, and it felt like two ribs were broken. If nothing else, I told myself that I would get to unmask the soldier before anyone else did. I lowered my hands to his helmet and wrenched it off. What awaited me caused my eyes to widen. I let out a bewildered gasp.

 

“Cadim?”

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Chapter Twelve: Bitter Medicine.

 

I have come to understand that there is a Golden Rule to Mandalorian Medical Care: if he can make it through the first night, then he should be okay. It was all that we had been told when Loktun and Darol were placed into the field hospital and it was repeated when Cadim was brought to their care. While I do not doubt the skill of our doctors, I believe that most of the healing is done by the Mandalorian himself. If his will is strong enough and his desire to live keen enough, then he will stabilize. The pain killers were just an encouragement to get better; they were not the cause of it.

 

I refused to leave Cadim’s side after he was placed on a cot. Our equipment was rudimentary, at best, but he was given as much care as possible. Seeing Cadim’s face was no different than envisioning Darol arise from his grave. To further add to that comparison, it was not lost upon me that the cot that Cadim now rested on had at one time been Darol’s. I had to assume that because Loktun lived and Darol died that there was a 50/50 chance Cadim would pull through. Perhaps it was foolish, but I believed that my being at Cadim’s side would tip the scales in his favor.

 

Much to my relief, I required relatively little medical assistance. A bit of salve was placed on my ribs to prevent the fractures from becoming more severe and my shoulder was wrapped, but overall Doctor Renasin said that he saw no reason why I should not be able to continue fighting within a week’s time. I thanked him for his advice and placed my pauldron back on. In most cases I would have been quick to ignore his advice, but it now gave me a convenient excuse to be near Cadim.

 

It had been three years since I had last seen him. His face had been harder in that duration of time: a scar now moved between his left nostril and his lip, almost creating a dimple even when he lay without a facial expression. I did not find it to be an off-putting look at all; in fact, I distinctly recall thinking that the scar and the stubble on his chin were authentically Mandalorian. He looked a bit malnourished, but that could easily be fixed with good eating.

 

A phantom of the sorrow I had felt over losing him lurked in the back of my mind, ever-ready to once more invite me to imagine that he would not make it through the night, but I refused to entertain the thought. I had vowed to myself that I would not let another person die, and in my mind I had the ability to make sure that proved to be true.

 

The sound of my father and sister entering the hospital tent drew my attention away from Cadim. It was becoming harder with each day to distinguish between my father and Commander Decimus, but the look of concern on his face answered that question for me even before his hug did. The embrace was quick and I hardly had time to return it before he had pulled back to look down at me. The words didn’t need to leave his mouth; I knew what to say.

 

“I’m fine,” I stated. “The doctor said I won’t need much more consideration.”

 

I felt Astra’s hand on my shoulder for a second in a comforting pat, but her attention quickly shifted to Cadim. The way that she looked at him was in a manner that I had not seen on her face for quite some time – since Cadim had left for the north, in fact. She was surprisingly quiet as she approached the side of the bed across from me and placed her hand to the back of his. My eyes lingered on that touch.

 

“And Cadim? Is he going to be alright?”

I looked away from their hands and to the side of Astra’s face. “If he makes it through the night,” I began. She nodded her head to indicate that she knew the rest of what I had to say. When she looked back to me, I could still see lingering traces of her affection for Cadim. I understood why it was there, but I didn’t like it.

 

Of course, I knew that I couldn’t let her know that.

 

“And you, Sis. How are you?”

“Fine,” I repeated. Obviously her attention had been so focused on Cadim that she had ignored what I said. I sat back down by Cadim’s side and placed my hand near his on the cot, a subconscious ploy to lay just a bit of claim to him. If Astra noticed, she didn’t seem to mind.

 

“Has he said anything?” My father’s voice was almost wistful and I knew that he had to be thinking what I did when I first saw Cadim’s face. If he had lived there was a possibility that others did, and if there were others still alive then perhaps those that we had funerals for were not all dead. Cadim, after all, was not.

 

I shook my head in response to the question. “He was unconscious when I found him and he hasn’t been awake since.”

“Two more kills to your record,” Astra remarked. Her thumb moved over the back of Cadim’s hand and for a moment I saw his eyes shift. It may have been an awful thing to think, but I hoped that he would continue to sleep until she left. I did not want her face to be the first thing that he saw. To my fragile psyche, that wouldn’t be fair. “You’re really off to a brilliant start.”

 

“I did what I had to do,” I said with feigned humility. It would be a lie to say that I wasn’t ecstatic in what had occurred. Were it not for the river I surely would have been killed by the Coalition soldier, but fate had placed me on familiar terrain. With my bare hands I had claimed his life, and that went a long way to banishing the stain of my previous trepidation. “You would have done the same.”

 

Astra nodded. My father placed his hand to my shoulder. “Nevertheless, it was a brave thing you did, Siana. You set a good example for the others.”

 

That was the closest that a Mandalorian could come to being called a hero. In Mando’a, we are noticeably absent the word “hero”, and most of our insults deal with traits that strip away qualities of being a Mandalorian. As I have come to understand it, for the most part the language is built up generalities and ideals that a person should aspire to, thus the absence of hero only means that every Mandalorian should be heroic. But when my father told me that I had set a good example – that I was something for others to aspire toward? That was as good as it could get.

 

“Doctor Renasin said that I should take a week’s worth of rest,” I told my father as he was already in such a good mood. “With your permission, unless you want me to keep up my training, I’d like to stay here with Cadim and make sure that he’s alright.”

 

“I’d say you’ve earned that,” Father stated. He looked to Astra, whose attention was still on Cadim. “Do you object to her remaining by his side?”

 

I watched the worry on Astra’s face recede as she was put on the spot. She looked from my father, to me, and then back to Father. When she spoke, her voice was a notch softer than it had been before. “Not at all. It’d be good if he has someone he knows close by when he wakes up.”

 

There was no denying that just as my fledgling feelings for Cadim had matured over time, so too had Astra’s much more involved ones. I did not like the way she looked at him, but I also knew that things were different this time around. I wasn’t her kid sister – I was a warrior and I had earned three kills. It was no longer such an empty dream to think that Cadim might like me; particularly because I was the one that saved him from death. Still, seeing her hold his hand and stroke it with her thumb did not assist my confidence.

 

“Has anyone told Fendar the news?” I asked obliquely. I had seen the way that Fendar and Astra interacted, and although I knew it was not as genuine as what she and Cadim shared, the introduction of his name was my most obtuse way to introduce their relationship into the environment. “I’m certain he and Vasmus would love to hear about the return of one of our brothers.”

 

“Word’s already spread,” Father said. I do not doubt that he could see the animosity growing between me and my sister, but he also did not intervene. At the time I had been so focused on Astra that I did not bother to conceal my envy, and Astra was so focused on Cadim that she did not notice it. Father had the best vantage point and I thought his inactivity meant he was unaware. I believe now that a more plausible explanation is that a man brave enough to dive into blazing fire, is less than willing to move between two Mandalorian women.

 

Two minutes passed before my father again patted my shoulder and reminded me to send him any word on Cadim’s state. The moment that he woke up, my father wanted to know about it. I agreed to keep him updated and was forced to sit quietly as Astra continued to hold Cadim’s hand. I thought of touching his other one, but I lacked the nerve to openly display that level of affection. Fleetingly my finger tips brushed the skin of his hand, but I dared not tenderly stroke him as Astra was. My impetus was a burgeoning creature and at that point it was too fragile to be put to a showing against my sister.

 

But I didn’t want to let her win. I was no idiot. If Cadim saw Astra when he awakened then they would fall in love again. Astra’s influence over the men of our clan was nearly unchallenged: to her credit, she never used it to her advantage, but she certainly could have. I thought back to the dance, when she had managed to take Fendar’s attention away from me, and chewed the inside of my lip. True, I had left the dancing circle on my own, but she did not need to claim his attention. She couldn’t have every man that I had feelings for – I wouldn’t let her.

 

“So how do you think things will go with you and Fendar now that Cadim’s back?” The question was asked in the same tone as the one before it. I put emphasis on Fendar’s name, but tried to keep my voice sweet. I would never be able to prove it, but I believe I saw her flinch just a little. Perhaps my imagination was getting the better of me; perhaps her conscience was getting the better of her.

 

When Astra spoke though, her voice was devoid any of the shame I had anticipated. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Siana.”

 

It was an obvious ploy of innocence, but I was feeling bold enough to address her feelings if not my own. I gave her a little smirk, almost to indicate that everything being spoken of was jesting. “Oh, come on. I’ve seen the way that you too look at each other. The way that he is when you’re around, and how you are when he is. When you two danced, I saw how his hands –“

 

“Enough,” Astra ordered without room for argument. She looked away from Cadim and to me. My mouth opened again, but she glared. “If you won’t heed my words as my sister, then do so as my subordinate. I don’t want to hear another word about that while I’m here, do you understand?”

 

I had absolutely no counter to her command. She was right on both counts: I was her younger sister, and I was her inferior in rank. I hadn’t any recourse and so I grew quiet. The way that Astra looked at me then was a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Perhaps she was beginning to pick up on my protectiveness, but she did not make note of it.

 

It was a defining moment in our relationship. Militaristically she had come to accept me as a woman, but in our personal life I was still viewed as a child. That Astra even needed to wonder if I had intentions for her love interest; that the very thought dawned upon her at all, was indication enough that our dynamic was changing as well. I did not miss the fringe amounts of sadness that cropped up in her eyes at the realization, but at the time I was too focused on my own insecurities to pay it any heed.

 

We continued to look at each other, quietly, for more time than I know how to quantify. It could have been a minute; it could have been an hour. I believe that the look we shared then never truly ended, in all honesty. The only thing that brought our attention away was when Fendar entered the tent.

 

“The Octopus Wrangler saving the day once again,” Fendar said to me as he gave me a pat on the back. I looked away from Astra and up to him. I smirked just a bit and looked back down.

 

Much to my surprise, Astra had removed her hand from Cadim’s.

 

“I do what I can,” I attempted to respond in as cool a voice as I could.

Fendar grinned. “Well, you do it well.”

“I try.”

 

As shameful as it may be to admit, I tried to think of a way to push a confrontation between Fendar and Astra, but nothing came up in my head. Fendar approached Cadim and placed a hand on his shoulder.

 

“I can’t believe he made it,” he said with much less jesting in his voice than usual. “Handsome bastard always knew how to get himself out of a tight spot, though.”

 

I watched Astra’s face carefully in those moments when Fendar and Cadim were close. She noticed my expression and gave me one that I could not read accurately: annoyance, or perhaps disbelief. Whichever it was, it motivated her to stand.

 

“It’s probably best that we not crowd him,” she announced. “Siana can stay here, if she wants. I think Loktun can use some company.”

 

Fendar rubbed his neck and then nodded. “You’ve got it, boss.”

 

I wasn’t so childish that I didn’t know what Astra was doing, and I instantly felt it was an unequal response to my given stimulus. She knew how I felt about Loktun’s condition, and furthermore, she knew that I should have been attending to him as I was Cadim. To draw that comparison in my face and then indicate that it was up to me whether or not I left Cadim’s side? Oh, it was a burning strike. I had greatly underestimated my sister’s wit, and my fragile psyche paid for it.

 

“I’ll be over there later,” I almost murmured.

“Good job again,” Fendar said as he gave me a pat on the back. I looked up only after they were leaving and noticed that Astra made more effort to keep distance between herself and Fendar than she had in the past. She was no fool; I had to give her that.

 

I continued to sit by Cadim’s side throughout the night. At one point Vasmus brought me some food and we chatted about the funeral services. He took from them something different than I did. They made him proud: glad to be a Mandalorian. One day he wanted to be buried in a grave, and although I knew it was very likely that he would be, I told him that I didn’t want to think about it. The rest of the meal was done in silence until eventually he said he needed to head to bed. I thanked him for the conversation.

 

Our only other visitor that evening was Bird the Dog, who came whimpering in near midnight. He had undoubtedly missed me at supper and at long last tracked me to where my scent was. I patted him on the head and he sat down beside me. I liked having company that wouldn’t talk.

 

Because the first night of Cadim’s recovery was so important, I did not want to fall asleep. I had not been there for Darol when he died; I refused to let Cadim pass in the same manner. But although I had good intentions, a day filled with crying and fighting was one that took a toll on my body. I told myself that if I laid my head down against the side of Cadim’s bedding for a moment that I would be fine. I then convince myself that if I closed my eyes I could rest them for a moment.

 

Before I knew it, I was asleep.

 

I don’t think that I dreamed that night. At least, I don’t remember what it was. When I awakened there were a few hints of early morning light streaming through the tent. The chirping of birds caused me to stir, and for a moment I did not know where I was. I felt a blanket on me, and I had been hugging Bird in my sleep. It was only after I blinked and sat up that I remembered why I was there, and quickly had two conflicting thoughts race to the forefront of my mind.

 

I hoped that Cadim had not died in my sleep.

I also hoped that he had not yet awakened.

 

At a glance I could tell that he had not awakened. I could not be so sure that he was alright.

 

Other than the fleeting touch that I gave his hand with my nail when trying to bolster my courage in dealing with Astra, I had not touched Cadim at all. Seeing him in Darol’s bed had given me a certain level of fear, and that fear translated to the fact that the last time I touched Darol he was cold and lifeless. Cadim was still alive, I believed, but I did not want to touch him and find out otherwise.

 

But allowing fear to dictate my actions was what the old Siana Daue did, not the new warrior. Not the woman that Cadim would see when he awakened. I moved my hand slowly from my side toward Cadim’s hand. I hesitated as I lowered my hand, and then completed the rest of the touch. If he was cold, then I would kill myself then and there. Much to my relief, he was not.

 

A soft sound left his mouth when my hand touched his. He then stirred just a bit. Before I had time to take my hand away from him, his eyes opened and I was given view of the clear blue eyes that I had not seen in years. Recognition dawned on his face instantly, and he narrowed his eyes to make sure that he was seeing the right person. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper.

 

“Astra?”

 

As you can imagine, that was the last name that I wanted to hear come out of his mouth. I balled the hand that had been on the back of his into a fist and pulled it away. “No,” I said. “Siana.”

 

I should have taken the comment as a compliment, but I wasn’t necessarily in that mindset. When he awakened I wanted him to say my name. I didn’t even think to imagine that as he had changed in three years into a different person, I must have grown to look more like my sister. I was, understandably, less than pleased. He didn’t seem to notice.

 

“No way,” he challenged as he struggled to sit up. It took him a moment, but he got to his elbows, at least. “When I left you weren’t much bigger than a shrub.”

 

I don’t know if it was his ridiculous method of measuring my height, or simply the fact that I could see the outline of his smile, but I quickly lost my will to be angry with him. “People grow, you know. If I hadn’t, who would have saved your sorry butt from those Coalition soldiers?”

 

It was then that Cadim noticed my armor. A fact I knew due to the manner in which his eyes widened. “You’re kidding me. You did it?”

 

“Alone.” My pride couldn’t be contained without giving off a winsome smile. “I guess this shrub has grown more than you thought.”

 

Much to my delight, I could see that he saw me as an actual warrior. His initial disbelief or confusion could be overlooked: when he was informed of what I was and what I had become, it was more than obvious that he respected me. Trying to keep from blushing is like trying to prevent a sneeze. The harder I worked at it, the more powerful it’d become. I looked down to Bird as an effort to hide my cheeks and gave my stupid, girlish smile to the floor. “Bird, tell Cadim hello.”

 

Bird’s inclusion into the conversation came about as he hopped up on the bed and started licking Cadim’s face. It was more than enough incentive for him to sit up so he could push him away. His laughter was like music to my ears and I couldn’t help but smile all the more idiotically

 

“Bird the Flying Dog, get away from me,” Cadim ordered. After Bird had his fill of Cadim’s face, he barked and plopped down.

 

A part of me wanted to belay telling my father or Astra that Cadim had awakened. The longer that I kept him to myself, the more likely he was to appreciate me for the woman I had become. I knew that when Astra entered the picture the same affection that she showed for him might appear on his face, and while I was willing to concede that I may lose him I didn’t want to expedite that reality in any sense.

 

Much to my chagrin, but the betterment of our cause, Vasmus arrived with my breakfast. When he saw that Cadim was awake he tossed it to the table and made his way over. The two embraced like brothers.

 

“It’s damn good to see you again,” Vasmus confessed.

“You took the words out of my mouth,” Cadim agreed.

 

Initially I attempted to keep my position at Cadim’s side, but I could feel that it was a futile endeavor. The moment that Vasmus went and told the others that Cadim was awake was the moment that more people would pile in. Worse yet, as I looked toward the food that I was brought I saw Bird snatch it off the table and begin to devour it. Things were not looking up.

 

True to my belief, Vasmus’ report instantly brought new faces into the tent. Commander Decimus entered first, followed by Astra and Vasmus again. There were undoubtedly more people that would have wanted to see the newly returned brother, but I understood that those three had the most purpose for being there.

 

“You look well,” the commander said as he drew alongside Cadim’s bed. He inoffensively moved me aside without a glance, and I accepted that my connection to Cadim was severed. I tried to catch one more glance from him, but my father’s handshake quickly took his attention.

 

“Thank you, sir,” he replied. Before another word could be spoken from him, Astra leaned over and embraced Cadim. Much to my disdain, when he returned the hug it was in no way with the platonic intent that he had shown Vasmus. Their embrace ended and he stared up at Astra, who looked back down at him with a warm smile on her lips. Just as I had suspected, their romance was rekindled in a moment’s notice.

 

I was less than pleased.

 

Commander Decimus took the seat that I had used the night before and sat down alongside Cadim. He placed a hand to his arm and looked directly into his eyes. “Where have you been? We sent scouts out during the winter, but they didn’t see any signs of Clan Daue outside of this region.”

 

After a moment to gather his strength, Cadim sat up and removed the few bio-meters that were on his body. They beeped in protest, but when Doctor Renasin came in to check on them he was waved off by the commander. Cadim scratched at his chin. I heard the crisp scratching of nails against stubble and thought back to how handsome he’d been when he was asleep.

 

“We’ve been pinned down in Yaedan since Commander Valgor made his move there,” Cadim stated with no lack of frustration. “We tried to get word out to you, but every scout that was sent out ended up being hung outside of our gates. Vacian scum have lowered themselves to being the dogs for the Hundarii. We were worried that they’d get the drop on you before word reached.”

 

Vasmus stepped up from behind Astra. “When the commander made the call to retreat, a few of us headed back here. It may not look like it from inside this tent, but we’ve built a damn fine base.”

 

“Not look like much inside this tent?” Cadim laughed and shook his head. “Brother, at least you have medical staff. We erected a barracks to protect against the elements, but it’s all but become a hospital. Food’s scarce, the weather’s terrible – how those cowards can survive the north I don’t know.” After he finished speaking, Cadim looked over to Bird’s now finished meal. “Even your dogs get food. I shouldn’t complain though, from what we could get out of Wesmer, Commander Sala isn’t doing much better.”

 

The room went silent. I wanted to believe that I had misheard Cadim, but I knew that I had not. The warmth that rushed over me; the sound of my heart beating in my ears; they were too real for any of this to be a dream. I couldn’t find words to speak, but I knew that I wanted to. Thankfully, Commander Decimus was there to field it for me.

 

“Commander Sala – my wife?” His tone dipped back into the uncertainty I had seen on his face when we brought Cadim into the room. Six months had passed since we believed that my mother had died, and in many ways we were just now overcoming the shock of that loss. Cadim nodded his head. “Sala’s alive. Are you certain?”

 

“As certain as I can be that she was alive when I left Yaedan,” Cadim answered. “The Vacians broke her position and took a good deal of her men, but they’ve been holed up in Wesmer for the winter. Snuck us a few furs and blankets to help us get through it. I can’t imagine how they pulled it off, to be honest.”

 

I looked away from Cadim and to Astra. The animosity that was building between us was forgotten when our eyes met. Our mother was still alive – the loss that we felt could be forgotten!

 

“Siana, get the man some food.” Commander Decimus ordered. I did not want to miss out on hearing anything else about the conversation, and so I opened my mouth to protest. When the commander looked back at me I saw that there was a grim finality in his eyes. I hesitated and then nodded in an effort to comply. Whatever he wanted to ask Cadim, he didn’t want me to be there to hear.

 

I ran as fast as I could back to the mess, and had a plate prepared. No sooner had the calorie enriched scoop of eggs and crushed cornmeal been added to my plate than did I run back and into the tent. Vasmus had pulled up another chair. He rose to take the plate from me, but I shouldered past him and presented it to Cadim with a bright smile. He returned the expression to me and took to eating eagerly.

 

“How did you make it down this far?” My father asked. Yaedan was a province of mountains and valleys. It was generally avoided due to its cavernous and dangerous terrain, little fertility, and the dangerous wildlife that roamed its treacherous steppes. It made sense to hide an army in it only because no one would be foolish enough to blindly venture in after them.

 

“We’ve been trying to re-establish radio contact with this area, but we’ve had no luck,” Cadim said between greedy chewing. I poured him a cup of water, but as I prepared to hand it over to him, Astra took it from my hand and did it. They shared another look, before Astra glanced back to me with an almost threatening narrowing of her eyes. So perhaps our animosity wasn’t completely forgotten.

 

“A few weeks ago we started picking up signals from the Vacians. They’ve been preparing to mobilize against you for awhile and sent a forward guard to feel you out. I’m guessing by the fact that you’re still here that you survived it.”

 

“Easily,” Vasmus remarked.

 

“We figured that you could withstand that, if you were still in the region – or at least, evade it. But when we started picking up transmissions that a joint strike force was being prepared Commander Valgor gave us the call to send a squad out to get word to you.” Cadim finished off his water and set it aside. Astra filled it without a word. “I’m the only one that made it from that group, I guess.”

 

“We’ll not let the sacrifices of the few be forgotten,” Commander Decimus said. “Do you know the logistics of their attack? Who or what they’ll be sending our way?”

 

“From what we gathered, most of the ground soldiers will be coming from the Vacians. The Hundarii are going to be sending additional tanks and airspeeders.” The latter part of that comment was not at all lost upon the commander, who I saw almost grimace. We had very little defense against aerial assailants.

 

“We should probably abandon this position and move for the hills,” Vasmus said warily. “I know that we’ve built a fortress, but I don’t know how we’re going to be able to hold off a protracted assault.”

 

Cadim cleared his throat. “If I may,” he began. “The Hundarii think that we’re defeated up north. If you’re willing to withstand their siege, we might be able to sneak around their rear guard and hit them at their core. I can’t swear to anything, but I know that Commander Valgor thinks it could be a successful move.”

 

“If Valgor does that, the Hundarii are certain to turn back on him. I wouldn’t doubt that they’ll abandon their siege and we can roll them up from behind. Wesmer will simply have to wait to be assisted.” Commander Decimus spoke of both possibilities without the fondness that I usually found on my father’s voice.

 

“That still raises the problem of holding out against the airspeeders,” Vasmus replied. When he didn’t speak out to prevent the potential sacrifice of my mother’s position, I looked to Astra. She remained silent.

 

Commander Decimus cleared his throat. “Astra, I have some… associates up near Fiarro. If I give you the coordinates, can I count on you to retrieve some anti-aircraft weaponry?”

 

“Of course, sir,” Astra nodded. They began to speak about the location of the area and what was expected; mundane things that could have well been a shopping list. The lack of passion in their voices – the readiness with which they seemed to be abandon the pressing topic of Wesmer and my mother’s position, truly infuriated me. I couldn’t keep my peace.

 

I knew that I shouldn’t speak out, but I couldn’t help it. I was, after all, a warrior. “What about helping my mo – Commander Sala? You said that her people are in dire condition, shouldn’t we make it a priority to relieve them?”

 

It wasn’t fair of me to make my father state that he was willing to abandon my mother, but at the time I didn’t think anything of it. As far as I was concerned, the only thing that mattered was getting her outside of the godforsaken Wesmer lands and back home. I could feel her ring pressing against me, its cold presence not at all different from her smile.

 

“It would be too risky and costly,” Commander Decimus answered drily. “If Commander Sala has held out this long, she can hold a little bit longer. We need to worry about breaking the back of our enemy more than saving the neck of our –“

 

“Family,” I finished the commander’s sentence impetuously. “We don’t have any proof that this plan will work. Astra, tell him that we need to help Mother.”

 

To my disbelief, Astra pulled me back by my armor and glared down at me. “You’re speaking out of turn, Siana. If Commander Decimus believes that we need to focus on breaking the Hundarii Siege, then that’s what we’re going to do.”

 

At that point I knew that I should have kept my mouth shut, but I was too upset to bother with protocol. In my immaturity, I believed that Astra was abandoning our mother just to spite me for my feelings in regard to Cadim.

 

“If Commander Decimus thinks that we shouldn’t help Mother, then he’s wrong. And if you agree with him, you’re wrong too!”

 

My vision went black for a second after that. I felt myself staggering back and didn’t realize until it was too late that Astra had punched me in the face. By the time that I was starting to move back for her, Vasmus intervened and wrapped his arm around me, effortlessly moving me away.

 

“Let’s get some air,” Vasmus suggested. I glared hotly at Astra, who looked back at me with no less frustration. Once I was outside, I broke free of his hold. “Just clear your head.”

 

I was horribly embarrassed. Not only had I spoken out against my father and leader, but I had been redressed by Astra and then removed from the meeting. Cadim had seen it all – I knew he felt I was still a child. Uncertain of what to do, I went to see Loktun for a less than a minute and then returned to the thoroughfare. I had not been standing for more than a second before Astra left the tent.

 

Our eyes met and I knew that something awful would happen if she said anything to me. I should have been the one to look away, but I didn’t. I felt that I was right – that she was being unreasonable due to her jealousy.

 

“Siana, I don’t know what’s gotten into you,” Astra began, “but it’s ending right now. Just stay away from Cadim until I get back from Fiarro. We can talk about all of this then.”

 

“We don’t have anything to talk about. You can’t order me not to be near him; the commander said I could keep watch over him until he’s better.” I was certain of myself when I said that; sure that I had blocked off Astra’s superior rank. Yet despite my confidence, when she began walking toward me I subconsciously took a step back.

 

She placed a hand to my shoulder and looked me directly in the eyes. I’ll never forget the sternness to her gaze. “I’m not ordering you to do anything, Siana. I’m asking you as your sister.”

 

It wasn’t an unreasonable request. In fact, it was a downright sensible one. But the clarity that I have now was not the clarity that a hormonally imbalanced teenager did. The world mattered only for the moment and at that moment I wanted to make Astra feel as badly as she made me feel earlier. I slapped her hand away.

 

“Then you’re not my sister.”

 

The hurt that flashed on her face was so genuine; so heart-wrenching, that even in my impetuous teenage angst I regretted what I said. Unfortunately, regret for me meant that I was not wrong but rather that the other party was trying to make me feel bad, which only steeled me all the more. I could even make out a trace amount of tears in her eyes, although she was far too strong a woman to let them materialize beyond that. When she spoke, her voice was damp with hurt, but carried its sternness all the while.

 

“Is that how it’s going to be, Siana?”

“Yes, that’s how it’s going to be, squad leader.”

 

And so, that was how it was.

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Chapter Thirteen: Half Kill.

 

I awakened the next morning at the same time that I always did. Although I had been given a week’s time to rest in order to recover from my injuries, I knew that the sooner I awakened, the sooner Astra would come and apologize to me. We had never before had a serious fight, and never one that came to the level of anger that the one the night before had. True, I had told her that she was no longer my sister, but that was only because she had not acted as one. It was not my fault that she hit me; if she had agreed with me I wouldn’t have the need to backtalk. At any moment she would come bursting through the doors and hug me, begging me for forgiveness. Graciously, I would accept.

 

Astra never came through the door.

 

When fresh sunlight began to peak through the windows of my tent, I became concerned. If Astra had to leave in the morning then she should be making her rounds soon, otherwise there would be no way that she would make it to Fiarro in time to complete her transaction. I had taken to sleeping in my armor, a part of our battle readiness protocol, and needed only to pull my boots on as I moved. Once I was out the door, I hopped in order to tie my laces while at the same time keeping forward motion. Surprisingly, I had no idea where to look for her.

 

In most cases Astra would have been in the field or with us in the barracks, but as we did not have orders to work in the field, nor did I see her in the barracks, I had to assume that she was visiting Cadim before she came to see me. It was quite possible that upon realizing she had to choose between her sister and his love she went to inform him of her decision. What a fool I was to think that was anything more than a misguided fantasy. I was in for a rude awakening.

 

Understandably I did not want to enter Cadim’s tent just yet. I had been thrown out of it last time and even if I had the commander’s permission to be there, I did not want to see that he saw me as a child. Nevertheless, if Astra was going to terminate their relationship for me then it only seemed right that I could meet her half way. The faster that I moved, the more likely it would be for me to run into her as she made her way out. I made it all the way to the field hospital and did not see her. Perhaps she was still in with Cadim?

 

As I walked toward Cadim’s tent I was only glad that I was becoming used to wearing my armor. No longer did I have to shuffle or overcompensate for my steps. I had once thought that I was without it in the field because I simply did not feel it on me, in fact. The confidence that it gave me encouraged me forward, and as I came to Cadim’s tent I pulled the flap back slowly and peeked inside.

 

There was no one immediately visible. I carefully craned my head to the side and peered deeper in, where I found Cadim’s cot but no sign of him. Just as I prepared to step away from the tent I heard the sound of breathing and peeked back inside once more. There were two things that I could have found.

 

For the sake of my sanity (and teenage desires), it was not the less becoming of the two.

 

While he probably should have been in bed, Cadim was not a man that sat around and waited to improve. I watched him continue to do his press-ups with an almost voyeuristic interest, incapable of looking away. I had become more than accustomed to seeing men exercising during the winter when we had our PT indoors; however, the sight of Cadim doing it stirred within me something noticeably unique. I assumed that it was simply my juvenile crush having evolved to the next level, and did not for a moment think that it might have had something to do with the fact I was maturing in ways I did not realize. Whatever the reason for the feeling may have been, I did not want it to stop. I continued to watch him.

 

I heard someone approaching the tent from the distance and began to pull away. In doing so, I let the flap go too soon and it made a soft, nearly imperceptible slap against the tent before folding back into place. That minute sound was enough to alert Cadim though, who sat up and called out.

 

“Who’s there?”

 

Did I stay or did I run? His voice sounded strained, which meant that either he was working out harder than he usually did, or Astra had not been gentle when it came to letting him down. Whatever the cause may have been, I opened the flap and stepped inside, a shy smile on my face.

 

“Hi,” I said as I attempted to think of an explanation. As I did not believe it would be prudent to admit I had been watching him work out, I instead spoke more directly to the point. “I was just hoping I might find Astra here?”

 

Cadim smiled when he saw me and stood up. In that simple gesture I could see that his muscles moved with a sleek, seamless ease that could only be gained through years of proper training. He pulled a black shirt back over his body and concealed the bandages that were on his shoulder. “You missed her by about an hour, I think. She should be on her way to Fiarro.”

 

I thought that I misheard him at first, so I canted my head. “Where did you say she is?”

“On her way to Fiarro. The commander wanted her to pick up some anti-air weaponry, yeah?”

 

So I had not misheard. Astra had decided to leave without apologizing to me. I was far more hurt than I should have been given the circumstances, but I did a good job of not showing it. I needed just a second to make sure that my voice didn’t relate any of my wounded pride, and spoke in as soft a tone as possible.

 

“Well, thanks. I should let you get back to whatever you were doing.”

“Don’t be silly, Siana. Come on, sit. I just had some ab stuff left anyway. Easier if I have someone to hold my feet for me, right?” To indicate that he was being serious, he laid down on the ground and drew his legs up. I thought to decline, but after a moment of indecision moved over and knelt before him. Once I had done so, I placed my hands on his feet.

 

I was feeling much glummer than I had anticipated feeling. Even when I told Siana that she was no longer my sister I felt better than I did in knowing she had left without me. Rather than sulk I tried to pay attention to holding Cadim’s feet steady. He rose completely and fell, twisting his body in corresponding angles from left to right in order to increase the isolation of his muscles. Having seen him shirtless, I knew that it was not a wasted effort.

 

“So how are you liking life as a warrior?”

I listened to the strain on his voice and smirked a little. “Isn’t that kind of like asking a caterpillar how it feels to be a butterfly?”

“Or a moth,” Cadim joked. No sooner had he begun to laugh than did I release his feet and let him fall back just a bit from the overexertion against a now much less pressured area. “What! It’s the same thing.”

“A butterfly isn’t the same thing as a moth.”

“What’s the difference? Two wings, antennae, legs – sounds like they’re the same to me.”

 

I instantly recalled why it was that I had given Cadim the benefit of the doubt as a child. He was easy to talk to and never missed a beat in conversation. I managed to push Astra from my mind and focused on what was good about the situation: Cadim was here and so was I.

 

“One’s pretty and the other isn’t,” I warned. “Are you saying that I’m not pretty?” I made certain to follow the question with a teasing smile. Obviously I did want to know the answer, but I didn’t want him to tell me flat out. If the answer was negative, there’d be no coming back from that.

 

If Cadim picked up on my interest, he was too skilled a conversationalist to show it. “I think you were a cute caterpillar as a kid, and you’re a cute moth as an adult. Who’s to tell me that a butterfly is pretty and a moth isn’t, huh?”

 

It wasn’t the answer that I was looking for, but it was an answer. Being ‘cute’ was like being ‘funny’. They were both desirable qualities, but only if they came with something else. When I was ten I was cute; I didn’t want to be cute at the age of thirteen. Yet to imply that I saw a problem with the qualifier would mean I had an answer in mind, so I gave him a little shrug and held his feet down for him again.

 

“I think you’re a skinny caterpillar,” I remarked glibly.

“Yeah,” Cadim answered, “but I’m working on it.”

I wasn’t going to argue with that.

 

“How do you get half a kill?” There were a number of subjects that I wanted to bring up to Cadim, but few that would not end with me blushing. The question asked was one that had been on my mind since I heard my mother mention it. Knowing that she was still alive – still fighting, made me wonder how she would have reacted if she knew Commander Decimus chose not to rescue her.

 

Cadim paused in his sit-ups and blinked. “Half a kill?”

“Yes, in a holo-vid you said that you had four and a half kills. How do you have half a kill?”

 

He stared at me for a few more seconds, then cracked a grin. “Oh.” Rather than complete his set he placed his hands down and leaned back against them. “Funny story there.”

“I think I’m the one that gets to decide if it’s funny?”

“Okay, story that may be funny,” Cadim corrected. “You were a lot nicer before you had that armor.”

I smiled. “That’s what they say.”

 

The smile was false – my sincerity was not. It was true that after I had passed my verd’goten I was beginning to become a different person. In many ways that was good, as Cadim’s presence showed; however, there too was the very real fact that I had burned bridges I never would have thought possible.

 

“What else do they say?” Cadim asked as he set back to doing his sit-ups.

“That you have a story that you think is funny.”

 

If nothing else, I had learned to keep him laughing. After the next set was finished, Cadim stood up and so I did as well.

 

“It was back when we were with Commander Valgor; when things were going good,” his qualifier to the statement came with a bit of a frown. I knew that the appropriate thing to do was pay close attention to his story, and so as he sat down on the bed, I made sure to sit in a chair. “We were really beating the pants off of those Vacians back then. It was hard to get a clean kill, especially with how fast your mother shoots.”

 

Not surprisingly, I smiled at the compliment. Cadim continued without needing to make note of it.

 

“So I’m racing Cassir to get the next kill and this Vacian goes streaming past us on a speeder-bike. I mean, if his own mother was in the way he would have run her over to get out of the way. Cassir took a shot – missed. I shot and grazed the guy’s bike. He swerves, hits a tree, and goes up in flames. Cassir said it wasn’t my shot that killed him, but I said it was my shot that killed his bike.”

 

“So you got half a point,” I finished with a shake of my head. In the torrent of emotions that had come up when both my mother and Cadim were revealed to be alive, I had not taken the time to ask after Cassir. “Do you know if Cassir made it out of that battle alive?”

 

Cadim’s expression darkened a bit and he shook his head. “He didn’t. Hundarii sniper caught him when he was moving for your mother’s position.”

 

I was only thankful that I had already cried over Cassir’s fate; if I did it then, I would have further embarrassed myself. Hearing a story of Cassir’s bravery did well to bolster my spirits though, and as I thought of him I could not help but smile. “He died like a Mandalorian, then.”

 

“Without a doubt,” Cadim agreed. “When I’m back up to speed I’m going to ask the commander to assign me to your squad. Astra said you were a man short?”

 

I wondered if she did that to indicate my weakness, but I refused to believe she was that malicious. Rather than let silence overcome us, I decided to share my own story. A story that I had not spoken of since it occurred.

 

“That was my fault,” I confessed. “During the Battle at Land’s Bridge, I hesitated and didn’t kill someone fast enough. One of our brothers, Darol, died as a result.”

 

I could have added in a plethora of excuses or reasons, but for the first time I did not feel the need to. It could have well been the understanding look in Cadim’s eyes, or that I wanted desperately to unburden myself of that grief, but as I told him what happened I saw that he did not for a moment judge me.

 

“The first time is always the hardest.” The statement was given as Cadim rubbed his chin. “It’s hard to realize the power that pulling the trigger has until you have to do it. When it isn’t a training session; when it’s live ammunition that you’re firing, then you understand what war is about.”

 

I nodded.

 

“But you killed the guy, right?”

“I shot him in the head,” I said drily. “Just like the one that was chasing you.”

“And you’d kill another one?”

“I’d kill a thousand of them.”

“Then your squad mate’s death was not in vain. You understand what it means to kill now.”

 

I had not thought of it that way. I had come to terms with the fact that I was responsible, but I never thought to honor Darol for giving me that strength and opportunity. As I had shown at the river I was now ready to kill a man, brutally if I had to, and that change was all the result of seeing Darol vanish into his grave.

 

A much more focused look settled on Cadim them, as though he was pulling up something he had been fighting to conceal. “You shouldn’t fight with your sister, you know. She cares a lot about you.”

 

I didn’t want to be lectured, least of all about Astra, but as I opened my mouth to reply I didn’t feel any words come out. What could I really say to defend myself? I decided to go for the only one that I could say without feeling guilty.

 

“She treats me like I’m a kid. I’m a warrior.”

Cadim shook his head. “I don’t think she treats you like a kid at all. When you were a kid she mothered you. Last night, she treated you like a warrior.”

 

I frowned at the recollection and felt the area that she’d punched pulsate with a phantom pain. I may not have needed to tell her she was no longer my sister, but she did not need to hit me, either.

 

“And you think that she’s right? That we should abandon my mother?”

“I don’t think she said that.” Cadim’s voice was soft, but his tone firm. “She said that it wasn’t your place to argue against your father’s orders, and she was right. There’s more to the position of being a warrior than saying you’re an adult, Siana.”

 

“Adult or not, she’s still my mother.”

“Do you think she’d want you to disrespect your father on her behalf?”

 

I liked Cadim more when he was telling jokes. In fact, I liked him more when he was doing anything other than being right. The last thing that I wanted to be was wrong, and Cadim wasn’t making it easy for me to avoid feeling that way. There was no way that I could deny he was correct. Even Astra, who had taken on the surrogate role of my mother, stated that being a Mandalorian woman meant sacrifice. As an ideal it seemed noble, but it was painful to think of my mother sacrificing herself.

 

Before I knew it, I felt Cadim’s hand on my shoulder. It was as strong as I had imagined it, and although my pauldron separated us, it still felt as though he were touching me. I blushed and looked up, uncertain as to what I should say.

 

“I know it’s hard to be a fresh warrior, Siana. Hell, it’s damn near impossible. You want to prove you’re as tough as the veterans, but you don’t feel like anyone notices it. You’re lucky in that your family is there for you. It makes you special.”

 

Hearing the word ‘special’ from Cadim was akin to hearing ‘good example’ from my father. The key difference was that while the latter made me feel like a good soldier, the former made me feel like an attractive woman.

 

“I don’t have to prove I’m an adult,” I muttered. My verd’goten had done that, had it not? The nexu teeth on my shoulders were proof enough to my aptitude as a fighter. “I know I’m an adult.”

Cadim frowned just a bit. “It’s about more than saying you’re an adult, Siana. Yes, you earned the right to be called an adult when you passed your verd’goten, but do you believe you deserve to be called one? Adulthood is about action, not words.”

 

I took his words to be a challenge. It could have been the feeling of his hand on my shoulder, the look in his eyes, or even the fact that I just wanted to prove that I was indeed an adult.

 

That was a week of firsts. I had killed my first man. I had attended my first funeral. I had my first fight with my sister. And at that moment, I decided that I would be able to cross one more off my list.

 

Cadim was going to be the first man that I kissed.

 

When it happened, I thought that everything was going well. I caught him by surprise, no doubt a result of my sudden shift in positioning, and for a brief second I thought that I felt him giving himself over to it. I did not know how to kiss; in fact, I had only seen it briefly between people. But there is an instinct to greet another person with one’s lips that is hard to overcome, and in that clumsy manner I tried my best to show that I really was an adult.

 

Thinking back on it, I have to feel sympathy for Cadim. He could not have expected me to do it, and once he did he was faced with the decision between forcibly removing me, and trying his best to talk his way out of it. For the sake of my fragile ego he chose the latter, and to this day I am thankful to him for it.

 

“Siana,” he protested as he finally managed to move me away. My face was flushed with heat, while his was torn between confusion and embarrassment. “What are you doing?”

 

I was on a high then. It was a sensation I had never before felt. “I’m showing you that I am an adult.”

 

“You don’t do it this way,” Cadim said hastily as he prevented me from reaching in for a second kiss. “We’re like family. You don’t go kissing family.”

 

“Astra’d be like family to you as well.” I know that my voice was hotter than usual, because Cadim tried his best not to look perturbed by my impetuous answer. “It’s okay if she kisses you though? She wasn’t much older than me when you met her. What’s the problem?”

 

“I wasn’t engaged when I met her.”

 

It was a statement I had not been expecting. All of the courage I had gathered up left me at that and I stood dumbly in front of Cadim. Breathlessly, I asked the only question on my mind. “What?”

 

“I’m sorry,” Cadim told me as he lowered his hands form my shoulders. “I didn’t mean to lead you on in any way. Before I left I promised Astra that when I returned I’d have gained enough honor to be worthy of her hand. This morning, she told me that I had done just that.”

 

If the initial statement was the knockout punch, then those words were the blows to my ribs. I stood there, horribly uncomfortable and yet incapable of moving away. It was not fair that through all that I had done, Astra still managed to win him over. I was the one that fought to save his life – I was the one that dragged him out of the river. If it wasn’t for me he would be dead, and still he picked Astra?

 

“You don’t even know her,” I snapped. “You knew her three years ago, but she’s changed – just like I have.”

 

Poor Cadim was in an uncomfortable position. “I know her well enough to know that I want to be with her forever, Siana.” Ever the gentleman, he tried his best to assuage my unfounded fears. “I was hoping to tell you this later, after the two of you made up.”

 

“We’re never going to make up,” I spat.

 

“Siana,” Cadim said my name with patience that only further irritated me. “I don’t think that this should be a reason or us to grow further apart. I’m not marrying your sister to distance us; I’m trying to bring everyone closer together.”

 

What he said made sense. We could have been a squad composed of three people related by blood or marriage. But I didn’t see things that way then, and I thought he was trying to pull something over on me. I was still horribly embarrassed and incensed at the knowledge of Astra having ‘won’ in our war that had never even had a remotely plausible outcome of my achievement of victory.

 

“You’re right.” My concession came as a surprise to Cadim, evidenced by his fleeting smile. “I shouldn’t let this come between us. You have always been my friend and I just made a mistake.”

 

My practical approach to things really seemed to please Cadim. “It’s alright.”

“I mean, in a way this works out for me anyway.”

“How’s that?”

“Well, now that she has you, I guess that means she’ll leave Fendar alone. Maybe I can marry him?”

 

It was one of the nastiest things I have ever done in my life, but when I said it I genuinely thought I was doing the right thing. The kind of lunatics that spout “If I can’t have him, no one will” would have been proud of how warped my mind was. I saw Cadim’s face drop as I spoke, and I made an effort to seem surprised.

 

“Wait, do you mean she forgot to tell you about that? But you know her so well?”

“You need to leave, Siana.” Cadim’s voice was testier than I’d ever heard it. “Now.”

 

I had nothing more to say; no additional card up my sleeve. The hurt and anger on his voice and face told me that he believed some of what I said, even if it was just a small amount. When Astra came back, he’d probably have lost himself in his anger and would call the whole thing of. A week or two later and he’d be thankful to me for exposing her little secret. We would be friends then, and eventually more.

 

The mind of a thirteen year old is a terribly dangerous thing.

 

I excused myself from Cadim’s tent and made my way back to the barracks. I may not have been the one to bring down Astra’s relationship with Cadim directly, but my little quip would surely be the defining point in why it’d go off course.

 

In a way, I’d just gotten my first half kill.

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Chapter Fourteen: The Ring.

 

While the mind of a teenager may have been a dangerous thing, it was not necessarily a nonfunctional one. Following my disagreement with Cadim I had not gone back to see him, which greatly diminished the only reason I had for resting for a week. Without anything to do other than enjoy the company of my own misery, I instead translated my frustration into incentive to exercise. Much to my surprise, the injury that I had believed to be benign did cause me some discomfort. Normally I would have slowed down, but that day I did not.

 

By midday the dull pain in my shoulder had become an inferno. Not so foolish as to continue working an appendage even when it was on the verge of collapse, I finally had myself examined by Doctor Renasin. Predictably he was upset that I had not heeded his advice and told me that for the rest of the week I would have to keep my arm well rested. For all of my life I had been told to do one thing or another. The thought of doing absolutely nothing was a nightmare.

 

Time crawled by slowly after that. I did not realize how many things in my life required the usage of my shoulder until I was forbidden from it. Most of the day was spent in exercise, and the duties around the compound were for the most part maintained by older Mandalorians that were no longer in their prime, but still assisted the war effort however they could. For a displaced soldier like me, the world did not have much to offer. Due to my rashness I had even ended any potential there was to speak with Cadim. There was only one thing left for me to do.

 

I had to assist with raising the children. At first, I saw this as something akin to a rite of passage. One day I would have children of my own and the sooner I learned to deal with them, the better. I had earned my stripes as a warrior and I wore my armor like one. It felt odd yelling at people that were almost the same age as me, but for the most part they obeyed my directives and tried to learn from the little experience I had. There was little to learn from them and even less I could teach with a wounded arm, but for an hour or two a day I had something to focus on.

 

The problem was that after those two hours, my mind was allowed to wander.

 

I had been incapable of looking my father in the eye after I spoke out against him, and much like Astra he had not taken the incentive to speak with me. I learned only after my conversation with Cadim that the entirety of my squad had left with Astra to Fiarro. I had not felt so alone since the night before my mother left to the north, and thinking about her still up there – cold and alone, called back to mind what she said about the fate of women. I did not take much succor from the irony in the situation, and wished she were back if only to give me someone to speak with. I had done a fairly good job of burning bridges.

 

That was when I began to think. It was a slow process and one often riddled with the backtracking, equivocating, and self-apologetic ranting of a child seeking to deny fault, but not even I could rationalize everything as being someone else’s fault. Bird the Dog became my companion again – wherever he had been over the past few days must have been less amusing than following me about as I contemplated my actions. I tried with a clear head to think about all of the ways that I had been wronged. It was a difficult thing to accomplish.

 

Two days after Astra and my squad had gone to Fiarro, I felt downright wretched. I missed her and I feared that I might never receive the chance to apologize to her again. After all, how often do we say things only to have them be the last things we ever get to say? We were in a time of war and Astra was leading a relatively small force to an unknown destination for supplies. Who was to say that she wouldn’t be ambushed, or that the team wouldn’t be attacked by some of the wilder beasts that roamed the hills of Fiarro? In addition to being dangerous the mind of a thirteen year old was also extremely imaginative.

 

I had been wrong. Everything that I said came out as poorly as possible. When I told Astra that she was not my sister, I just wanted to say she hurt my feelings. When I said that my father was wrong, I just wanted him to know I cared about mother. When I stared at the starry sky at night, I tried to imagine that the stars would take my remorse and transform them into protection over Astra. If I never had the chance to apologize to her it would kill me. I knew that I should have been there with her and Fendar.

 

And poor Fendar, oh, I’d used him in a foolish ploy to upset Cadim. I lacked the courage to go and apologize to him, but Fendar had done nothing to deserve my misusage of his name. Even if he and Astra had been romantically involved, which I had no proof of; it was not something that I had any business discussing. I would come to learn years later that estranged spouses might even take on lovers, if only to maintain some semblance of their ability to feel. I had been a downright fool and the more that I thought about it, the worse I felt.

 

After five days of Astra’s absence, it began to rain. With each raindrop that fell I feared that Astra had been harmed in an innumerable amount of ways. Having fought the Coalition soldier at the river I knew that they were stronger than we gave them credit for. I had escaped with my life due to a superior knowledge of the terrain, what if Astra and Fendar were attacked and didn’t have that same advantage? Would they die, and we’d never hear of them ever again? Thoughts like that kept me awake and the longer I was awake the more I thought of them.

 

I do not know if it was the lack of sleep or my steady worry, but by the sixth day of Astra’s journey, I began to clutch my mother’s ring. It never seemed to heat, no matter the temperature, and kept a continuous and cool feel that reminded me of my mother’s voice. I don’t think that I was crazy, but I was hardly in the best state of mind. The only thing that I knew was that once Astra returned, I had to apologize to her. She may be angry with me for a bit, but it would be better to get that over with than let our relationship sour any more.

 

The seventh day came and went without any sign of Astra or Fendar. After the stars were well within the sky, I sought out my father and found him sitting with a few of the captains. They had been discussing how to best withstand the siege from the Coalition. When my father looked up from the maps they had drawn, I knew that he was Commander Decimus.

 

“It’s been seven days,” I said. “Shouldn’t Astra be back by now?”

It was the first time I had looked at my father in quite some time. The way he regarded me told me more than enough: Astra informed him of my angry outburst. It was like I was a different person – that I wasn’t the daughter he’d rescued from the river.

 

“When your squad leader returns,” he stated firmly, “she returns.”

“I’d like to search for her.”

“No.”

“But I c—“

“The answer is no, Siana. You’re dismissed.”

 

I’d never been dismissed by my father before; I’d never been spoken to like that in front of others, either. Like a fish out of water my mouth opened and closed, and I hurriedly turned about and left. He hated me, I told myself. They all hated me because of what I had done. Instead of returning to the barracks I climbed the tree that I had found Bird – the one from which I spotted Cadim in his race to freedom. It allowed me to work my shoulder slightly and at the same time got me away from everyone else. That’s where they wanted me anyway, wasn’t it?

 

Sitting in that tree, I began to understand why it was that so many people enjoyed war. It was a terrifying thing, but there was no need to apologize once it was over. If you shot someone, they died. You didn’t have to worry about how to tell them you were sorry, or worse yet, if you would ever get to see them again. In the thick of battle the only thing that mattered was that you kept going forward and that the person at your side was someone you could trust. I had that with Astra, Fendar, and Loktun. I was being an idiot to jeopardize it all.

 

After all, had it not been Astra that sacrificed her chance to go to the north to train me? She could have very well been the deciding factor in the fight to save mother, or killed the sniper that attacked Cassir. I felt disgustingly small and wretched by the time that I fell asleep. When I awakened I could only hope that Astra would be back and that I could tell her how much I was sorry for what I had done.

 

They returned on the eighth day. Somehow, I managed to sleep through the sound of the speeders moving in their supplies, but when I climbed down from the tree I was rewarded with the sight of new weaponry being distributed to everyone that was nearby. I clutched my mother’s ring again, anxious to find Astra and put the whole spat behind us. I found Fendar, but Astra was nowhere in sight.

 

That was a meeting that I would not be in control of.

 

I felt pressure on my bad shoulder and turned around, completely surprised that someone had grabbed me. When I looked up to see who it was I found a less than pleased Astra glaring at me. I had never seen her so angry with me before; so completely enraged. I had to assume she saw Cadim before I found her.

 

“I can explain,” I said weakly, but the words had not completely left my mouth before I was shoved backward and against one of the crates that had been used to transport the weapons. I may have had a week’s worth of apology in my head, but it didn’t matter if Astra didn’t give me a chance to explain it.

 

From the looks of things, she had no intention of letting me do that. Her face was still dirty from travel and her armor had a few dings on it that could have come from combat. I was alert enough to see her punch coming, but not fast enough to evade it entirely. The force behind it caused me to turn my head to the side. I deserved to be hit, there was no doubt, but I wasn’t going to stand by for much more abuse.

 

“I can’t believe you’d do this to me,” Astra snapped as she circled me to make sure that I couldn’t make an escape. Those around us had by that time turned their attention to the spectacle. “Do you think that my life is a plaything for you to manipulate as you will, Siana?”

 

I had never seen Astra that angry before. I had never seen anyone that angry before; not even the Coalition soldier. The words that I wanted to say weren’t coming out as I had planned for them to. In fact, with every strike that I had to avoid, I was beginning to lose my nerve. “Astra, I just want to talk with you!”

 

“I don’t talk with children,” she snapped back at me. “I especially don’t talk to children that I’ve given my life to, only to have them try to ruin mine with their lies.”

 

When she said that, I paused in my stride and stared at her. “I didn’t mean to do any of that.”

 

“Like hell you didn’t, Siana! You’ve been walking around like the world’s supposed to open at your feet! You think you deserve things that you haven’t earned: respect, honor – because you don’t understand them. I don’t know how you managed to pass your verd’goten, but with the way you’ve been acting I almost wish that you hadn’t.”

 

If anyone had the desire to mix in to the situation and break things up, they didn’t after that. I was hurt in a way that I had never felt before, and as a teenager I didn’t understand that it must have hurt Astra twice as much to say them. I stared at her dumbly.

 

“It’s not so nice to hear what people have to say is it?” Astra’s tone had not lightened; the fact that she saw tears in my eyes only seemed to strengthen her resolve. “All you do is stand around and cry. You fought in one battle and hesitated in it. Because of you, we had to bury a brother. But rather than learn from that and grow up, you did what a child would do – made excuses and felt better. You selfish little brat, if you had died in that goddamn river then we’d all be better off.”

 

Each word struck me with a force I couldn’t comprehend. They were so fierce, in fact, that to this day I still feel their sting. It was like losing my mother all over again, although this time she chose to die rather than look at me. I tried to find the ability to open my mouth and apologize again, but my lips parted I felt a gasp beginning to form. I was ashamed; humiliated. Astra had exposed me to be much less of the adult than I thought I was.

 

She didn’t need to spit on me to let me know how she felt. In front of everyone gathered, she sneered and stated just how she felt about me. “You disgust me, you pathetic little girl.”

 

If ever I had shown strength in my life, it was in my ability not to cry when I heard her say that. Oh, I wanted to – in truth, I’d be lying if I said that a tear didn’t roll down my cheek. I clutched my mother’s ring with all of my heart and watched as Astra turned away from me. She didn’t feel that I deserved to be looked at; that I was just a little kid playing at being a soldier. It was the saddest point in my life, and yet the eyes of others on me did something that I didn’t expect.

 

I do not know if it is an alchemical change, but having a person witness your disgrace can change a person. More importantly, having an entire group of them do so can turn a sorrowful cry into a rage so blinding that we forget just who we are and what we are doing. From the depths of my sorrow I began to feel angry. Each pair of eyes that I saw focused on me, or hidden behind masks, was like another witness to my lack of courage in the face of Astra’s anger. Further back, I could see my father watching and doing nothing to come to my assistance. They all thought what Astra said and it made me hateful.

 

It made me stupid.

 

I said a word then that I had only heard when the rougher, older soldiers were drunk and didn’t know I was around. It was a word that although I didn’t understand, knew that I should never say. Whatever it meant, whatever its purpose was, as it left my mouth I could feel that I had just crossed into a new world. Of course, an impetuous and embarrassed thirteen year old doesn’t think in terms of consequences for her actions. As the last syllable left my mouth, everything went still.

 

Someone dropped the crate that he had been holding. Astra came to a dead standstill.

 

She turned around to face me, slowly. The sting of my tears in my eyes was red hot, but through them I could see that her rage was no longer worn on her face. No, it had become a concentrated pool of hatred that shifted between her left and right eyes. Not since the nexu attacked me had I seen something so malicious, and when she began to step forward I clutched mother’s ring to keep from stepping back.

 

“What did you just say to me?”

I didn’t dare repeat myself.

 

“That’s a grown-up word, Siana.” Astra’s voice had a surprising cool nature to it. “When you say grown-up words, you face grown-up responses. Are you ready for that?”

 

“I am an adult.” I told her with as much force as I could muster. She did not seem to notice that I was trembling.

 

“That word you just said – that thing you just shouted at me? It offended my honor.” After she finished speaking, Astra looked to all of those around her. “Do you agree that she’s offended my honor?”

 

The responses were unanimous. I felt smaller than ever as I heard them wash over me. From beneath the veil of my fear I spoke in a voice low enough that only Astra could hear me. “Astra,” I started. “I…”

 

“We’re beyond words,” she told me. “You claim that you are a warrior. I am a warrior. You have offended my honor and by proxy the honor of my clan. I could kill you right now and no one would be able to intervene.”

 

I do not know which scared me more: the thought of Astra fighting me, or the fact that she had already stated she would kill me if she did. In both cases I was being pitted against something I never imagined. Life did not seem quite so pristine when it was going against you, and at that moment it felt that everything in the world hated me.

 

When Commander Decimus stepped forward those that were in his way cleared a path. I looked away from Astra and toward him, but found that his expression had not changed at all. I had absolutely no idea what would happen.

 

“Astra Daue is correct,” he stated. “Siana has offended her honor. But we are in a time of war and the death of either of you would only further harm the Clan Daue. We must strive, at all times, to remain unified in our goals.”

 

I was uncertain as to how to take the proceedings. For the time being, they seemed better than having Astra kill me.

 

“That being said, honor must be protected. As both women admit they are warriors, there is no argument that can avoid conflict at this juncture. It is here and now that I declare they both enter the battle circle, and do not leave until one has capitulated to the other.”

 

I felt ill at the thought. While we soldiers had been put into fights in order to break up tensions, it had never been within the battle circle. Whatever happened in there placed the worth of a person’s honor on the line, and whoever emerged victorious was simply the clear and decisive superior. I wanted to beg Astra not to accept, but before I could speak she did so.

 

“I accept,” she said hastily.

 

What should have been an apology had now devolved into an honor duel. I still had the chance to step away from it all and accept that I was weaker than her, but there was more to it than that. If we fought and I lost, I would still show that I was a warrior. If I walked away from it, it would be clear I was still a child. I looked at my father but found that Commander Decimus was unyielding. When I looked back to Astra, I saw that her eyes were narrowed and her jaw set. You had better not cry, she seemed to be saying. I had only one choice.

 

“I accept.”

 

Everything moved quickly then. The murmur that went through those gathered, children and adults alike, was a wave that quickly culminated into our being placed in the center of a field, the circle outlined by people spreading it to properly accommodate us. There was nothing to it but flat ground. When Astra entered it, she began to unstrap her chest armor and tossed it aside. I did the same, albeit with much less desire.

 

Commander Decimus stood outside of the circle. Once we were both free of our armor, he spoke again. “The rules of the Battle Circle are simple ones. You may not intentionally kill or cripple your adversary. Neither combatant may leave the ring until one is defeated. You may use only the weapons that are stated by the senior. If any of these rules are violated, you become dar’manda, without exception. As Astra is the senior, she may select the weapons of choice.”

 

“Fists,” she said without needing to think it over. “But I don’t think taking her honor is going to be enough. If I win, I want my mother’s ring.”

 

“No,” I protested.

 

“It is so allowed,” Commander Decimus said over me. “And you, Siana, what is it that you want?”

 

What did I want? At that moment, I wanted not to be standing across from my sister in a dueling circle. I wanted her to look at me with love and adoration again, rather than hatred and contempt. I wanted my father to not be a commander and for our field to not have become a warzone. I wanted my mother and brothers back. I wanted a lot of things, but none of them seemed achievable.

 

I clenched the ring one more time.

 

“A second chance.”

 

My response seemed to take Astra by surprise. Although she never stopped glaring at me, I saw a vague softness come to her features for a moment.

 

“The match will continue until one of you surrenders or is rendered unconscious. Are you ready?”

 

Astra spoke instantly. “Yes.”

 

I looked over everyone in attendance and saw that their eyes were on me. When finally I looked back to Astra, I lowered myself into a combat stance and nodded my head. “I’m ready.”

 

“Begin.”

 

And so it did.

 

Astra and I had sparred before, countless times in fact when I was younger. I had believed myself to be close to her equal at the time; at times landing hits that she had not seen coming. Astra had taught me everything I knew, and so I even thought that in some regards I could sense what she would do before she did it. But when she approached me then, I was hit with a very cold and dark reality. She may have taught me everything that I knew, but I did not know everything that she did.

 

The first time that she hit me, I thought that I would vomit from the pain that raced through me. I swayed and staggered away, but before I could bring my hands up to defend, I felt her knee strike against my ribcage. I was winded on the spot, and hit the ground only to feel her kick me once, twice, and a third time in the stomach. Unlike my fight at the river, this time I had no trick up my sleeve – I couldn’t pull a knife, or dive into water. The only thing that was ahead of me was a world of hurt.

 

I started to stand, shakily, when she shuffled forth with a straight kick. I did my best to block it against my arm and pushed back out at her, but no sooner had I moved forward than was her hand around my throat and one of her feet behind mine. She shoved outward and released, slamming back into the ground. I rolled out of the way of her elbow as she dropped to a knee and tried to strike my chest. Hastily I struck out and caught her with a punch against the side of her face, but the pain that may have filled her only fueled her all the more. She grabbed me and lifted me, her superior strength displayed as I was tossed over head.

 

I coughed as I pushed myself up. Astra did not give me a second to recover. The sound of her running across the ground was all the warning I received. She swung at me, but I ducked beneath it and struck her in the abdomen. The power behind the punch was much weaker than it should have been, but my injured shoulder was not hurting as much as it had before either. When I tried to punch her again she caught me by the shoulders and pulled me forth, then lifted her knee to not only wind me, but flip me over the leg.

 

There would be no underestimation from her; she knew exactly what I was capable of. When I slammed into the ground I grabbed her leg and pulled outward, she was taken off balance but landed on her hands and kicked out, her boot catching me in the nose and instantly sending a crunching sound in my ears. The gushing of blood told me all I needed to know, and I retreated weakly with a startled cry. My show of weakness gained me no mercy.

 

As I think back on the fight, I have to wonder if Astra did not always want to fight me. I was her anchor for so long and she had missed so many opportunities because of me. She certainly did not hold back on me out of kindness.

 

She attempted a one-two punch combination and while the first strike landed, I dropped to my knee and avoided the second. Using my smaller center of gravity I grabbed for her legs and ripped upward. The strain on my shoulder was immense, but the payoff was that Astra was taken off her balance. She hit me in the back, but I slung her forward and was quick to follow up by wrapping my legs around her neck. The scissor hold that I applied was one of my last ditch efforts to keep from being hit again. She had reach, strength, and technique over me. All I had was that I could move faster.

 

Astra’s face began to turn red and I could see her rage swelling all the more. She slammed her hands into the ground and wrenched her head. I feared for a moment that she would break her neck, but rather than try to turn her body alone, she instead turned both of our bodies. She ended up on her abdomen, and I was in for a world of pain. I applied more pressure, but she pressed herself up slowly. Bent over as she was, she grabbed me around the waist and then pulled herself free. I tried my best to hit her in the face, a few of the strikes even landing, but by then it was too late.

 

She slammed me down. Hard.

 

I felt her turn me onto my side, but by then the match was already decided. Her knee struck me again and again in the ribs, each time drawing a cry of pain from me. I forced my hands up into her face, my thumbs aiming to gouge her eyes. I felt connection made, but she began to fight with my arms until she had pinned them and could straddle me. That was when the pain really started.

 

I know I cried out something, but it must not have been surrender – she didn’t stop, and no one came in to stop her. She hit me in the face. Again, and again, and again. Each time that she did it I felt her anger grow a little brighter; saw her eyes narrow a little more. She was ******* with rage and I was the justified target. I don’t know when she stopped hitting me. I just know that eventually she did.

 

I felt my mother’s necklace leaving my neck, but I was too weak to stop it from being taken. I believe I muttered for her to give it back, but by then the match was decided. I slipped into a deep, dark sleep.

 

When I awakened, I was sleeping on a cot. My head roared with pain and my body ached more than it ever had before. Each of Astra’s hits had been like being shot. I could barely open my eyes – the end of the fight had not been a kind one, but as I did I saw that Astra was sitting beside me.

 

I was understandably worried when I saw her, and started to move away, but she moved a hand to my shoulder and stopped me. Through all of the pain I felt – pain that she had inflicted – I could still be calmed when she touched me. More surprising than the fact she sat next to me, was the look in her eyes.

 

I began to cry.

 

“I’m so sorry, Astra.” It hurt to speak and breathing through my nose was hell. But I meant those words when I said them, and I was alright with being a weeping, bawling mess.

 

She lifted her hand and brushed my bangs. “I know,” she said softly. It was the same way she’d spoken to me when I’d been afraid as a child. The same way that I imagined she would always speak to me when I was in need.

 

Through my tears, I tried to speak with some degree of self-respect. It was not as successful as I had hoped. “I still want you to be my sister.”

 

“You couldn’t change that even if you wanted to.” Her smile was flawless, and if not for the fact that a few of my hits had managed to bruise her face as well, would have been as beautiful as always. “You’ll always be my little sister, no matter how great of a warrior you become.”

 

I tried to get up to hug her, but the act of moving reminded me of just how strong she was. Those hits weren’t going to go away over night.

 

“You need to rest up,” she said. “I didn’t mean to hurt you this badly, Siana, but you…”

 

“I know,” I cut her off. “I didn’t mean anything I said, ever. I thought… I don’t know what I thought. I didn’t mean to ruin things for you and Cadim.”

 

Astra placed her hand on my shoulder. “You didn’t, Siana. I was upset with you for the attempt, not for the result. We’re still going to be married.”

 

Much to my relief, when I heard her say that I did not feel even the vaguest trace of jealousy. Perhaps she had beaten the brat out of me, or I’d simply come to realize that my sister meant more to me than a lofty dream. Whatever it was, I could accept that. She held the ring out to me that she had taken, the ring that I’d pulled out of the river.

 

“You can have it back.”

 

I shook my head. “I want you to keep it. It’s a wedding gift.”

 

She smiled at that. Her smile made me try to smile as well, but the pain in my jaw came back with a vengeance.

 

I meekly asked her, “Are we okay now?”

 

That was when I saw her hesitate. I had come to learn that any sign of hesitation was a dangerous thing.

 

“I’m going to be transferring you to a different squad,” she explained carefully. “I love you, Siana, and I can never stop being your sister – but as your squad leader…”

 

She seemed to almost be in pain when she spoke. I was already in enough pain; I decided to lighten her burden. “I understand. I’ll earn back the right to be in your squad.”

 

We were silent after that. When the passing of seconds became a minute, Astra patted me on the shoulder as she always did and stood up. “Get better. I think you’ll like some of these toys from Fiarro.”

 

I watched her begin to walk away and sat up. I reached out, the pain in my side unbearable, and grabbed her hand. When she looked back at me my battered state said all she needed to know. Carefully, though not necessarily painlessly, she gave me a hug. I returned it.

 

As she made her exit from the room I said the only thing that I could think of. I had lost my mother’s ring, broken several ribs, shattered my cheek, broken my nose, bruised various parts of my body, and probably further injured my shoulder, but I had also regained my sister. It seemed like a fair enough trade to me.

 

“I love you, Astra.”

“I love you too, Sis.”

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Chapter Fifteen: Second Chance

 

The surprising thing about Mandalorian culture is that “winning” and “losing” hardly have anything to do with being a warrior. The only advantage to winning, in most cases, is that the victor gets to go on and battle further. It is the act of engaging another, of pitting one’s strength against another, which truly determines the worth of a Mandalorian. There was no doubt that Astra had defeated me, as everyone knew she would, but I did not receive any repercussions because of it. I had fought and lost. In the eyes of the veterans the matter was resolved, and to some of my comrades I had even gained authenticity.

 

I was given two days to recover from my injuries before being placed back into the field. The looming threat of the Coalition’s siege could not be forgotten and with each day that passed we were worked all the more diligently in preparing our defenses. Now without a squad, I filled my time with assisting in unloading and assembling weaponry. Astra had been more than successful in her negotiations: in addition to acquiring anti-air weaponry, we had also received two additional tanks and a speeder. In all, our ragtag army was beginning to look like it might have a fighting chance.

 

Positions in squads became tighter and I knew that if I was not assigned to one soon, I would be part of the defenders at the base with the next battle. While there was no shame in defending, there was also no inherent honor in it. I wanted more than ever to prove myself; not only so that I would be seen as a warrior, but so that Astra would feel she hadn’t wasted her life in training me. The only way to get into an advance squad would be to ingratiate myself with a member of high command and hope they gave me the chance to prove myself. I was lucky in that I knew the commander… somewhat.

 

I knew that my father was disappointed with me: I had seen that much on his face when he officiated over my fight with Astra. More than being shamed by my actions, he was ashamed by what I had come to represent – a spoiled brat, incapable of divorcing herself from the delusions of grandeur she had. I suppose that I reminded him of his brother, whose own vainglory had nearly cost our clan their existence, and wished nothing to do with me until I overcame that flaw. There was an obvious way for this to be accomplished, and so as I watched my former squad mates and the other soldiers venturing out on patrol, I remained back at the base and assisted with the assembly of weapons.

 

Allow me to be clear on this: there is nothing dishonorable about assembling weapons, cooking for soldiers, tending to the children, or mending the sickly. Each has a vital role in any society and particularly that of the Mandalorians where we depend so much on the readiness of our people. That being said, I was not quite as libertarian with my views after my fight with Astra. I was willing to accept my punishment, but that did not necessarily mean that I had to like it.

 

Not every Mandalorian is born strong or remains that way. While we are a hardy and capable people, there are individuals that through their own cunning or bravery manage to function without the full range of their bodies. One such person was a technician named Keller, who was neither the tallest nor the strongest of our group. At the age of thirteen I stood only a head shorter than him, while most of the Daue men were at least two heads taller than me. He was wiry of build and frail of appearance, but his mind was a sharp one. We respected him for what he could do.

 

And what he did, it turned out, was upgrade weapons. The semantics to the weapons were easily reproduced and we were given orders to assemble them with the new adjustments. Along with Saurek, a much more typical male of our clan, Keller led the efforts to configure the Fiarro weaponry before we were besieged. He often spent his time muttering about the shoddy craftsmanship of the armaments, but given how many we had been blessed with he devised a method of salvaging some and enhancing others.

 

The clicking and clacking of weaponry being placed together in an endless repetition brought to mind the recollection of my mother guiding me through the process. I no longer felt her ring around my neck, and although I had freely given it away there were times when I wished I could hold onto it just for a bit more courage. She had been so patient with me, calmly showing me what I did wrong and how to fix it. I wonder if she would have been impressed with me for being able to strip my rifle in the dark during my verd’goten, or if she’d have been irritated that I had not thought to check it before.

 

I had to admit she would probably be both.

 

“You’re slowing down there, Little Warrior.”

 

I knew at once that Keller was referring to me and gave him a pointed glare after I heard him. The look was not a necessarily genuine one, because for all of his teasing I knew that Keller did not look down on me. The title may have been a reference to the fight, but in a way it was more an acknowledgement that I had braved it, rather than that I had lost it.

 

“I don’t think you should be calling me little anything. I’m still growing – I can’t say the same for you.”

“Oh ho,” Saurek chimed in after my retort. “The rookie just nailed you with that one.”

Keller made a show of not being perturbed. “If her sister has her way, she won’t be growing much longer.”

“If you keep talking about it, you and I can meet in the circle.”

It was Saurek that answered my quip. “And she’d probably win this time, too.”

 

Keller laughed. Saurek laughed. Even I had to laugh. I may not have liked being kept from the field, but I nevertheless did my part in our war effort. If nothing else, I was given a chance to fire off some of the weapons before anyone else did, and although Keller told me he would give me the sign when he was clear of the blast radius, on several occasions I’d shoot just to see him scramble away.

 

Saurek and I usually laughed at that. Keller generally did not.

 

What stood out most to me about my service with the technicians was when Keller deigned to show us the latest of his experiments. I had earned my armor when I became an adult, but every adult would later go on to customize their armor specifically. Some outfitted wrist gauntlets with flamethrowers or missiles; others upgraded helmets to read specific vital details. When it came to Keller’s machinations, I could hardly understand them then – and I still can’t quite understand them now.

 

“When you’re old enough to play with the big dogs, I’ll give you one of these.” It was Keller’s way of saying that I’d never get to have one of his upgrades. The most impressive one that he had made to that point was a protective overlay that greatly increased the energy absorption of a piece of armor. It was short lived and shorted out after contact, but from even a close range it could save a person’s life.

 

“I am a big dog,” I challenged.

“You’re just a kathhound.”

 

And like that, I went from being the “Little Warrior” to the “Kath”. It wasn’t a particularly endearing title, but it was one that would have to do. As far as I was concerned it didn’t matter very much matter what two spanner-jockeys called me, because soon I’d be back in a real squad and fighting real enemies.

 

You can imagine my frustration when Fendar referred to me by the moniker.

 

We had just finished with another series of modified repeaters when the soldiers came back from patrol. By that point my bruises had mostly healed and with them, so had any hard feelings I felt for Astra. To the repeated irritation of Keller I made my way over to her.

 

“Any signs of Coalition soldiers?” I asked.

“Not a one,” Astra replied. “I’m beginning to think they’ve given up the attempt.”

“And we brave soldiers,” Fendar continued, “are destined to a life of boredom, Kath.”

 

There was a clever little smirk on his lips when he said the word, and I instantly looked back at Keller. Never the fool, Keller had positioned himself behind Saurek and thus outside of my irritated glare. When I looked back at Fendar, I punched him the shoulder for good measure. “You’d better not call me that again!”

 

“Preserver, her bite is worse than her bark,” he joked and retreated behind Cadim. Since our spat I had not made peace with Cadim; now did not seem like the time to do so. I quit my pursuit and looked back to Astra.

 

“Have you heard anything from father?”

“About you?” She asked. I nodded. “Just keep working.”

It was not the answer I wanted, but Astra never lied to me. So I did what she asked of me.

 

I had the energy. Keller had the brains. Saurek had the strength. With the three of us working on a task we managed to perform things much faster than they normally would have been done. I was hungry to get back into the field and was afraid that if I slowed down, I would never have my chance. One week bled into two, two into three. By the time that the fourth week was approaching it had been nearly two months. Our weaponry was in excellent condition, but we still had not seen a single Coalition soldier.

 

That was all soon to change.

 

The scouting reports poured in like a landslide. The more of them that arrived, the more evident it became that there were three distinctive forces making their way toward us. One was headed by Captain Kogus, the failed commander of the assault on the stronghold; a second was commanded by a Vacian commander named Vexius, and the third and final arm in the assault was led by the Hundarii General Masaeron. Between the three were more soldiers than our compound had any hope of repelling. We had prepared for a storm, but this was a monsoon.

 

The approaching armies were a constant source of gossip amongst the men and women in the encampment. We had prepared as best we could, but from the sound of the machinery that would be meeting us there was little that would be able to stand in their way. Keller, Saurek, and I would often discuss it, with varying levels of interest.

 

“So what are we going to do?” Keller asked.

I didn’t realize the question was for me until I looked up from a blaster rifle. “Why would I know?”

“Because your sister is a squad leader and your dad is the commander?”

“Maybe someone should remind them of that,” I muttered.

 

Those words had not completely left my mouth when Fendar came over to our workshop. “Kath,” he said. I turned and looked at him with my best angry face. “Commander Decimus wants you at this meeting.”

I blinked. “Why me? Keller’s in charge here.”

“I don’t know why, I only know he wants you. Bad enough they have me playing messenger.”

Keller waved his hand disinterestedly. “I didn’t want to attend any meeting anyway.”

 

I didn’t know what to do other than comply with a nod. When I looked to Keller and Saurek, it was the latter that answered.

 

“Maybe they remembered.”

 

We hustled back to the command center and I found that there were a few people already inside. It called to mind when I had returned with Astra from the river and Uncle Valgor and his men was speaking with my father about the war. That felt like several lifetimes ago. I reached for my necklace and felt nothing. Perhaps it truly was several lifetimes ago.

 

Fendar nodded his head once we entered. I instinctually moved to stand beside Astra. To my surprise, Cadim stood next to me. The meeting continued as though I was not present. Only once did I see my father glance in my direction.

 

There seemed to be two popular ideas that floated around before the captains. Captain Aden believed we should retreat to Fiarro and wait for the Coalition to disband. Captains Setarin and Holgar, predictably, did not share his view.

 

“If we’re going to die, then we die like Mandalorians,” Captain Setarin stated hotly. “Mandalorians don’t run and hide – we don’t cower in the face of death.”

 

Captain Aden blustered under that. “This has nothing to do with cowardice. If we do not retreat, then we will be overwhelmed and destroyed. They have too many men and vehicles. We would survive a day, a week, and then what? Are you willing to see your child die for your ideals?”

 

“I’d sooner see my child die a Mandalorian than live a coward,” Captain Holgar thundered. “In death, we serve our clan the best that we can. I haven’t gotten so accustomed to this life that I’m afraid of losing it, Aden. Have all these years of soft living—“

“Don’t you dare question my ability, Holgar!”

 

“Enough.”

 

Commander Decimus held up his hand after he spoke and the room grew silent. “There are those here that would have us retreat strategically and gather our strength.” After my father spoke groans came from one side of the room, agreement from the other. “On the other hand, we have a group that believes we have gained as much strength as we ever will, and that if it is not enough then our time in this life has come to its end.” The reaction occurred again, but in reverse.

 

“Are there any amongst you that feel there is a third option – a way that these two dire extremes can be avoided?” The commander looked over those gathered, his face grave with somberness. “If not, then I will be forced to choose now from the offered suggestions.”

 

I looked between Astra and Cadim, who both seemed to be torn over what they should be experiencing. Three years ago I had seen this same situation and watched it tear apart everything I loved. I did not want to live through it again. I cleared my throat and stepped forward.

 

“I have an idea,” I said. I could feel Astra’s discomfort.

 

Captain Aden looked at me and then back to Commander Decimus. “I think that newly minted warriors of questionable worth should not be given the floor,” he said. “Particularly not those who still have the bruises from a beating on her face.”

 

I caught the look of derision in Captain Aden’s eyes and knew that it was shared amongst the others present. His words were harsh and cruel, but they had merit to them. I had hardly done anything to prove myself worthy of speaking. I saw the commander look at me and felt my resolve faltering.

 

“She deserves a chance to speak,” Cadim said from behind me. “If not for her bravery, I would not be here now.”

 

“That bravery, I believe, is what has her working with technicians,” Captain Aden drawled. “I do not believe we have enough time to entertain the folly of children.”

 

This time it was Astra’s voice that spoke up. “She has worked tirelessly with both Keller and Saurek and proven herself to be a capable Mandalorian. Call her a child again, Captain, and with all due respect I will be the one that kicks your ***.”

 

There was no doubt that Astra meant her words, and when I looked back at her she gave me a very small smile. Having those two at my back was more than I had anticipated, but I did not know if it would be enough. When I looked back to Commander Decimus, he was still studying me. Captain Aden was just on the verge of responding to Astra’s challenge when he spoke.

 

“What would you do, Siana Daue?”

 

I was on the spot. I knew what I didn’t want to do: I didn’t want to die. I didn’t want my family to die. I didn’t want my clan to die. I didn’t want Aden to be right about me, or for my father to always be ashamed of me. I didn’t want to be afraid anymore, and I didn’t want to let my mother remain in Wesmer because we couldn’t protect her.

 

My mother, who at that moment was probably cold and without anything save for a few men to fight against an army. My mother, who had carried on a fight long after others would have given up. My mother was the answer to the question. I spoke without hesitation.

 

“We persevere.”

 

To my suggestion, both sides of the room began to fume. Only Commander Decimus and those behind me were silent.

 

“She’s speaking in generalities!”

“We persevere against what? Three armies?”

“Precious time wasted on this one!”

 

Commander Decimus lifted his hand and they fell silent. “Go on.”

 

I looked back to Astra for support. She gave me a nod. I did not know why I was being given the chance to prove myself, but I had a feeling it had something to do with her. The murmurs of disbelief that floated around the room were hardly the most ambient sounds I could think of, but I would have to make due. I thought of how to best explain myself.

 

“When I was younger, I fought an octopus…”

“This isn’t the time for a story,” Captain Holgar began.

The commander silenced him with a glare.

 

“Continue, Siana.”

 

“I remember being afraid… because it had so many arms. Whenever I broke free of one arm, another one would grab me.” I let the memory wash over me again. “As a child I didn’t know what to do, so I thought of two things – I could either try to run away from it, or I could fight and die.”

 

I would like to imagine that I had been innocent in saying what I did, but the challenge I sent was not one so coy that the captains didn’t understand it. I did not care though. I had to make my case – I had to prevent them from being right.

 

“But I understand now that I had another option; an option that I didn’t grasp then because I was too entangled in the moment. I could have fought the tentacles instead of the octopus. If I removed those from the fight, what would be left?”

 

“A bloated head,” Vasmus said from his corner.

 

“Exactly. I could have killed a bloated head.” I agreed. I stepped a little deeper into the room then and looked pointedly at Commander Decimus. “But I had been lucky then. Because even though I did everything wrong, my father came through and saved me. In the end, it was his help that kept me from dying. He had the strength of a Mandalorian man – the strength of a clan, inside of his body. Mandalorians do not give up; we do not retreat. I think that we can fight the Coalition and we can win.”

 

Now, I don’t want to seem as though I was some master tactician. I was far from it. I had no idea as to how we could fight, but I knew that we could. After I spoke the room once more erupted into disdain, but I remained focused on Commander Decimus.

 

“And just how will we fight these tentacles? We don’t have the manpower to field three armies.”

“We don’t have the manpower field one and defend our base!”

 

Fortunately for me, where I was lacking in knowledge – Astra was not. “Then we don’t field an entire army. We break ourselves into a coordinated, swift squads and attack a particular point. If we can defeat the weakest of these ‘tentacles’, then we not only bolster the morale of our men but also expose the latter two.”

 

“And from there,” Cadim added in. “We can push them with everything we have. If the base can hold long enough, I will return to Commander Valgor and have him send his men down to meet us. A two pronged attack against either the Vacian position or the Hundarii position will give us more of a chance.”

 

Captain Aden did not like the sound of this. We were forming a plan – a plan viable enough to succeed. “This is childish foolishness and idealism, brothers. What will come of this plan? More needless death. We mustn’t allow their exuberance to cloud our judgment. How do we know that Valgor is even in the position to assist us?”

 

“Because my brother would not forsake me – just as I will not forsake him,” Commander Decimus stated definitively. “If we retreat, the Coalition will turn its attention back on Yaedan and Wesmer. We will bear under the brunt of their attack, and our gallant clansmen will see that the Coalition is defeated.”

 

I could hardly believe that my suggestion had gone through! Of course it would need to be fine tuned and worked over, but at least we had a real plan of action. I bowed respectfully to the commander, who returned the gesture. When he looked up, I saw a sparkle of my father in his eyes. He didn’t only approve of my plan as a soldier: he approved of my actions as his daughter.

 

To the credit of those who had been defeated in the discussion, none raised a fuss – now we had a course of action, and we would all make sure it worked. It was agreed almost unanimously that Kogus would be our target: he had proven to be incompetent and would probably be the least defended of the three.

 

“Astra, I want you to be my vanguard commander on this,” my father said. “Vasmus, you are her right.”

“By your command,” they each replied.

“Have your men ready to march by first light in the morning. You’ll need to cover a good deal of ground.”

 

At hearing mention of Astra gathering her men, I knew that there would be a chance for me to break away from the technicians. I liked them well enough, but I needed to be back in the mix of things. With Cadim once more leaving for Yaedan that meant that yet another spot was opened, and if she was shuffling ranks then there was no reason why I couldn’t go.

 

I made my wake back over to Astra, smiling expectantly. She did not seem quite as mirthful.

 

“Your plan may see us through this, Sis,” she said plainly. “But I can’t take you back into the squad.”

 

My heart dropped without skipping a beat. Just as I opened my mouth to accept my fate, she continued.

 

“With thinking like that, I need you to be heading your own unit. Get Keller and Saurek and tell them to suit up. I need you on point when we’re out there. If Keller’s gadgets are half as good as you’ve been telling me, then your squad’s going to be a deciding factor in all of this.”

 

I wanted to leap over and hug her, but I knew it wouldn’t be proper. Instead, I gave her a firm salute and then gave one to Cadim. He returned the salute to me and gave me a smile that I had not seen in quite some time. I returned it and knew that we were back to being friends. Things were looking up.

 

This, I knew, was my second chance.

I wasn’t going to let it get away from me.

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Chapter Sixteen: Taking Point

 

There are few honors greater than being the Mandalorian to take point in an assault. It is a symbol of bravery and undying resolve: of courage in the face of near certain death. More than likely the soldiers beneath me would die in a blaze of glory and I would fall with them. If I did not die I would have an impressive story to tell: if I did die, people would speak of my actions for generations to come. Many people outside of our culture would have seen being placed on a suicidal mission as some form of punishment, but I felt reborn from the assignment. Without a doubt this would be my proving ground and I was not going to let it go without a fight.

 

By the time dawn was approaching we had already made it into position. Kogus’ army moved sluggishly, no doubt due to the many tanks that they had behind them, which left us with little to no reason not to strike them fast and hard. Reconnaissance had been correct in their assessments: the Coalition’s forces were spread into three separate armies and each arm was moving at its own pace. When we launched our attack the airspeeders under General Masaeron should have just been moving into position. While we could do nothing to prevent their bombs and payloads from claiming the lives of people back at the compound, we could certainly make sure that each death was met with ten from our opponents.

 

The collection of woods that we chose to use for our ambush was densely populated and gave very little room for our enemy to progress except for as a straight line. Most commanders would have expected an ambush in an area with high hills and dense cover, but Kogus seemed to believe that we were dedicated to waiting for his siege. After all, we had been certain to move under cover of night and since word of their approach came our scouting parties were drawn back. They were going to pull up and bombard us, and there was nothing that we could do. At least, that was what we wanted them to believe.

 

This time around, I was incredibly nervous. Not only did I understand just how quickly a life could be taken in battle, but I also knew that there were people relying on me. Men like Keller and Saurek did not often get a chance to fight, and now that they had one I did not want my inexperience as a leader to hold them back. There were dozens of men or women that could have been placed ahead of me as command, but when I informed them that they were in my squad they both took the news with gratitude. What was important was that they were once warriors and so again would they be. This was not only my chance to show my sister and father that they had not wasted their lives on me: it was all of our chances to show our ancestors that we would not fail them.

 

Kogus’ men are almost in position,” Astra informed us over the communication link. “Kathhounds, get ready to open them up.

 

I cringed just a little as she used that term, but once it was assigned to us there was no way I’d be able to get out of it. My left hand was held in the air, fingers balled into a fist. When I lowered it, the soldiers under me would know that it was time to attack. Theoretically we could have attacked the motorcade at any time and it would have had the same result, but if we wanted even the faintest chance of victory without death then it would have to come at just the right time. In the tree above me was Keller, his sniper rifle trained on his target. To my right was Saurek with his heavy repeater already warmed.

 

Time passed agonizingly slow then, as I watched each soldier march past me and saw their tanks moving into position. The best that we could do was hope that we would be able to jam their tanks into a single position so they’d lose range of motion, while at the same time giving them only a single direct in which they could fire. Keller had been quick to explain to me the radial attack patterns of the tanks, but I knew so little about the specifics that other than agree I did not know what else to say. What was important was that he said they wouldn’t be able to maneuver well, which could turn this into a killing zone if we did everything perfectly.

 

In the middle of the procession I saw Captain Kogus, astride his speeder. I did not know the man except for from his name, but as he was one of the people responsible for my mother’s stay in Wesmer, I would do whatever I could to make sure that before I died his life was the one I claimed. If we hit them with enough munitions then we would at the very least give Astra and her company an easy time in cleaning up. Kogus continued ever closer and I began to hold my breath. The HUD in my helmet read his position: -20 meters, -15 meters, -10 meters, -5 meters…

 

I lowered my left fist.

 

Astra had not been a fool when it came to ensuring that my group went in first. While anyone could have pulled off an attack from the front, our group had something unique to our initial attack: technicians. Keller’s sniper rifle may have been just as reliable as anyone else’s, but where others took one shot, his opened an entire salvo. Position on the trees along both sides of the forest were countless rocket launchers, and with the compression of his trigger they each came to life in an array of firepower the likes of which I cannot properly describe.

 

There was a possibility that Keller could have taken Kogus with his shot, but personal shields and preparation may have been more than enough to save the Captain. Instead, Keller’s shot impacted soundly with his speeder-bike and caused it to stall out. Before the captain could give his orders, the array of rockets were striking along the ranks of his men and filling the air with an array of plumes that climbed toward the sky. The confusion of the moment was only enhanced when Kogus began shouting in panic to his men that they were being attacked by a force far larger than they actually were.

 

“Oya aliit Daue!” I shouted.

The wave of shouts that backed me were like waves crashing against rocks.

 

From their positions in the trees, the troops under my command began to fire upon the left most portion of Captain Kogus’ procession. They returned fire, the tanks that were not blocked annihilating vegetation and man alike in an unfathomable array of explosives. I ran free of my cover with Saurek close at my side. This time, I was the one using the carbine, and I intended to get as up close and personal to the enemy as I possibly could. I heard the piercing scream of Saurek’s repeater come to life before all around me the spray of blaster bolts opened the enemy lines for me.

 

I had never felt the rush that I did at that moment when we converged upon the Coalition position. Without the option to stay at range with so many using explosives on the trees, we could only continue to surge forth. Along with a few of the younger warriors that we had recruited, I met with the Coalition’s soldiers head on.

 

There are those who are well versed in the arts of war and will say that my actions were foolish – childish, even. After all, if we kept our position in the trees even if we were systematically exterminated we could last longer against the enemy force. But to that notion I have to reiterate that our goal was to capture honor and that while none of us wanted to die, we did not necessarily fear it either. I certainly feared death itself, but the act of dying was something divorced from the end result to me. I suppose the best way to describe it is: I am not afraid of falling, but I do not want to hit the ground.

 

As it turned out, that sentiment was shared by most of my clansmen.

 

With the butt of my carbine I struck the side of a Coalition soldier’s armor, then hit him in the center of the chest. He fell and without even needing to look down, I unloaded a series of shots into his prone form. All around me similar actions were occurring and I could hear the battle cries of both Clan Vace and Clan Daue meeting it as feverish a battle as our own confrontation was.

 

The disorientation of the Coalition forces could only last for so long and as they drew themselves back together I knew that the second stage in our plan was moving into place. With our frontrunners having landed their strikes, Vasmus and Astra would next be leading their men forth, surely enough as I noticed an increase in Vacians about me, I soon too found that there were new Daue soldiers joining the mix. It was a bone-shattering battle royale, and we had to give it our all if we were to escape from it alive.

 

Saurek,” I said into my communication link. “You and I are going to take out the tank cluster.

You’ve got it, leader.” He replied.

 

If not for the fact that a Vacian bruiser came charging at me with his rifle held over his head like a club, I would have allowed myself to smile. It was the first time that I had heard anyone refer to me as a leader and it felt surprisingly accurate. Of course, the more pressing matter of the gargantuan man and his happenstance melee weapon came into play and as I did not want the last words I heard to be Saurek’s – no matter how wonderful they sounded. I ducked low and sprang forth, bowling through his legs and landing in a roll. When I turned around he was falling, and a few shots from my carbine made sure that he wasn’t going to get back up.

 

When a battle is at its thickest, the pressure is also at its highest. Just as when we danced and I felt the nature of everyone coming together into one sweltering sensation, I could feel the intensity and ire of both sides of our conflict form a single agent of chaos. To break the poetry of that down just a little bit: everywhere was the sound of death, and I was fighting to make sure that my violence wasn’t swallowed up by anyone else’s.

 

I’d like to think that I did a pretty good job.

 

Saurek and I began for the tanks. It was a difficult process to move through the Vacian line, but with each soldier that fell we made it just a step closer. There were times when I would have to beat someone back with my carbine only to have Saurek take a shot, or when one would miraculously drop with the expert marksmanship of Keller as the culprit. We forged through them though, joined at several times by various members of separate squads. More than once I saw a brave soldier move where I would have been only to find the mist of his blood in the air a moment later.

 

We had made it nearly to the tank position when I looked in Kogus’ direction. Previously he had been hiding behind his men, but it seemed something akin to a warrior’s spirit had blossomed within him. More importantly, from what I could see Astra and her men were closing in on him quickly. The moment that Kogus died I knew that his tanks would be put into retreat and so I ran even quicker. That was until I saw Astra fall when one of Kogus’ guards shot her in the leg.

 

Astra’s down!

 

The cry reverberated over the communication link with such clarity that I was forced to stop. Saurek said something to me, but rather than continue on my course for the tanks I instead broke away and ran with all of my speed for Kogus’ position. I jumped planted my left foot and faked to the right to avoid a charging coalition soldier, and dove over one that attempted to tackle me. The faster that I moved the more direly I knew that Astra’s situation was becoming. If she had the chance to kill herself and Kogus at the same time she would do it, and I knew she would much rather prefer that be her end than one where she died as a victim to his blaster.

 

“Oya manda!” I shouted with all of my heart and came crashing into Kogus’ side. It was not the smartest decision I had ever made, but it was the only one that was on my mind at the moment.

 

Captain Kogus was a large man, but I hit him in just the right spot. I managed to encourage him back just enough for the hill behind him to do the rest of the work. We both fell down the hill then, rolling and jouncing as it we both hit branches and rocks in our fall. By the time that it came to an end I was thoroughly disoriented and I felt my blaster rifle leave my hands. The incline was too great to climb back up without a good deal of effort, and I knew that Kogus would be up in a matter of seconds unless he’d died in the fall.

 

As luck would have it, he did not.

 

I began to scramble for my gun, but I felt his hand grab my leg. I turned over onto my back and kicked out at him, but just as I struck he grabbed my other leg and squeezed down. Excruciating pain ripped through me as his powerful hands all but shattered my bones. I cried out in agony and grabbed hold of a rock, then threw it directly at the center of his helmet. It was enough force to get him to let go, but as I got back up to my feet he was bearing down on me again. Like any warrior, even if I knew I didn’t stand a chance, I put up a fight.

 

Snarling as I was, I tried my best to achieve a better position against him, but he was in no way a slovenly fighter. He drew me into his knee, then grabbed me about the abdomen and effortlessly hoisted me over his shoulder. It was such a swift motion that I did not realize I was moving until I hit my back against a branch and was dragged back by my armor into a headlock.

 

“You Daue scum think that you can make a fool out of me,” he snarled at me with no lack of hatred. “You think that just because we Vacians didn’t keep our word to you that we’re dogs. Is that right?” He tightened the headlock, causing me to gag as I clawed at his hand. “But you were going to betray us anyway, weren’t you!?”

 

If we were sitting down and peacefully discussing things I may have been able to rebut, but as that was not the case I instead focused on what I could do. I struck out his ribs once, twice, and then slammed my hand down against his groin. I will never claim to be a clean fighter, but after at the very least encouraging him to let me go I spun around with a punch directly into his visor. It hurt like hell to do that, but the punch did make him take a step back. Unfortunately, that step gave him the leverage to tackle me to the ground. As we fell I lifted my knees so that the weight of his body on me would bring discomfort.

 

It wasn’t a long term solution, but it let me crawl away from him again.

 

When I got up I pulled my dagger out and held it in front of myself. It was no different than when the nexu paced about me: the dagger was for show; I wasn’t going to be able to outfight him with it. The gesture itself made Kogus laugh.

 

“What is this, a joke?” What truly concerned me was that despite the fact I could see blood on his face from where his helmet had shattered; he hardly seemed to be discomforted. “You’re too small to be a real warrior – probably someone’s bastard kid that’s playing at hero. Well here’s your chance, kid. Why are you shaking?”

 

The grin he gave me was in no way a mirthful one, and as he stepped forward I realized that I was indeed shaking. I swiped outward at him and looked up toward the hill we had fallen down. That he laughed at me when I struck at him was more than enough reason to be certain he could outfight me, but I was not about to surrender. The sound of a mighty explosion filled the air.

 

Tanks are down!” I saw the name Saurek flash before my HUD. That directly preceded the actions that were to follow.

 

Kogus lunged at me, no doubt certain that his army was defeated. I stabbed for him, but he effortlessly swatted my dagger side. Rather than swing at him again I threw the dagger and turned about and began to climb the hillside. It was quite possible that the others would come for me, but I did not know if they would be able to do quickly enough. My fingers were just digging in for my second handful of dirt when I felt Kogus grab me by my legs and drag me back down. I whirled about and threw dirt into his cracked visor, but he pressed down on me to prevent me from moving further.

 

I could hear the rage on his voice and feel his body shivering with anger. He had been given two chances – there was no doubt that even if he survived the Coalition was going to remove him from his command. I grappled with him as best as I could, but I could feel my helmet coming undone. Once it was removed, he gave me the darkest grin I have ever seen in my life.

 

“A trophy worth taking,” he sneered. I lashed out at him, but he was far stronger than me. I could hear the sounds of people shouting in my helmet, but did not know if they were asking me to call back or if they were telling me that they were on their way. In either event I had a more pressing matter to attend to, and it was not one that I wanted to think about.

 

Violence, I believe, is a natural part of Mandalorian life. Yes, we of the Clan Daue had taken to something more peaceful, but even in times of peace we trained ourselves as warriors in the event that one day our violence would be unleashed upon the world. Clans Daue, Vace, and Hundar were not so different; in fact, I am certain that we were all being driven by the thirst to survive. But there are actions of violence that are far darker than those we are born with, and there are actions of violence that should not be spoken of – and never experienced.

 

I do not believe that what motivated Kogus in his actions was in any way related to his being a Vacian, or the previous desire he had spoken of. He was in flamed with rage and I was the focus for his hatred. He was going to die – we both knew that, but before he died he wanted to make certain that his legacy would live beyond the blaster bolt that claimed him. He could have killed me, but in doing so that would have been a single mark in the face of the Clan Daue. No, his intentions went further than that, and as I began to realize what they were I could only scream and struggle all the more passionately.

 

Throughout my life I have tried to come to terms with what Kogus had in mind. Not because I wish to understand him, but because I want to excuse him for his plans. I know that within us there is a beast of discord, but generally that beast requires blood and nothing more. The past rationalization I made for him was one of m any that I thought of after the events that were soon to transpire did, but in each retelling I come to the simple realization that Kogus was a bad man, and that his was a heart far beyond understanding. I could see that he hated me, but not even hatred alone could motivate a man to act as he did.

 

He could have turned and fled for his life, of this I have no doubt, but his need to live out a final conquest against an enemy was far greater than his need to survive. I could feel parts of my armor falling slack against his motions, and the more that I struggled the more intent he was upon his goal. The same spirit that had seen me fight through the octopus’ tentacles reawakened in me, but as I began to lash out more harshly he struck me with such force that I was forced into a pacified stupor.

 

Just as with the octopus when I realized my struggling was futile, there came a cold reality that I was incapable of overcoming Kogus’ machinations. We were within enough foliage to prevent us from being seen from ease at any angle, and truly there was nothing I could do to change that. I resigned myself to a fate that I had never been prepared for, because no Mandalorian would wish to think that another Mandalorian was capable of it.

 

I think that was perhaps the worst part of it to me: that I had given up. We Mandalorians can fight and die; we can fight and live, but we never fight and surrender. I can think of a thousand reasons why I should have kept fighting, but only one reason why I didn’t: I was terrified. I was ashamed of myself then – I am ashamed of myself now. But I cannot redact this from my story, nor can I hide that at that point in time, I was nothing more than a scared, defenseless child.

 

I can remember the smell of the area and the sound of my breathing. My heartbeat was so loud then that it threatened to drown out each breath I took, but my breathing was matched by the labored sound of Kogus’. It is an odd detail to remember about such a horrific episode, but as the moments ticked away I can even distinctly recall the manner in which sweat dripped down his bloodied face and came to tap against mine. It was as though my brain was seeking to protect me: it was searching for a way to make me focus on anything other than what was in front of me; what would soon occur.

 

He looked me in my eyes. I looked him in his.

 

I will never forget the rancor in his eyes. It was almost sad in a sense, so completely engrossed within its need to be hateful that it abandoned any trace of its own humanity. Even the nexu had seemed more sentient than he did then. He was willing to do whatever it took to hurt me, and I was simply without recourse against him. Was it a power struggle? Was it something more? I do not know. I have spent time in libraries all about the galaxy researching the topic, and even now I am without a concise answer.

 

He said one thing to me.

“Long live Clan Vace.”

And then all I saw was red.

 

For a moment I feared that what was in front of me was the sensation of being dehumanized; perhaps my mind blanking out what was occurring. The smell of freshly spilled blood washing over me though was too familiar, and the vapor of pulverized bone floating about in the air did well to bring me back to reality. Kogus had been holding himself above me, but he slumped forth without a sound as the hole in his head began to pour out what blood had been previously pumping through his body.

 

I pushed him off me and scrambled away as best I could. Above me I saw Keller making his way down the hill, with his sniper rifle in hand. By the time he made it to the bottom of the hill I had not yet placed all of my armor back on completely. He looked down to Kogus and then back to me.

 

“Siana,” he began.

“I’m okay.” I answered.

 

That was all we had to say about the matter. Once I had completely refashioned my armor, Keller tried his best to keep concern from his voice. A few hints of it escaped through, but I was thankful for the effort. He informed the others that I had been located and reported that Kogus was dead.

 

I recalled the reason that we had fallen down the hill. Rather than tempt Keller to ask me what had happened, I instead started back up the hill. “How is Astra?” I asked.

 

“Wounded, but she’s going to make it,” he said. “Casualties on both sides were high: they’ve lost, but we’re hurt.”

 

I thought of the men that had died and could not help but feel saddened. If the tears that were forming in my eyes were for them or me, I did not know. Keller was kind enough not to ask. We continued up the hill in silence after that. Keller with a question he wanted to ask: me with a question I didn’t want to answer.

 

When we made it back to the top of the hill, I could see that it had indeed been a bloody and brutal battle. The losses on our side were much heavier than they had been at Land’s Bridge, but we were also without the threat of one of the arms. True, it was the lesser of the three, but it made a difference. I saw Astra being carried away and rushed over to her.

 

“Good fighting out there, Sis,” she told me as I came into range. I hugged her. “I’ll be fine.”

“I know,” I whispered. She returned the hug and I fought the urge to cry into her shoulder. I wanted to remain strong, but all of the fear and shame I had accumulated was more than I could keep back. If Keller had arrived a second later then I would have been an entirely different person.

 

Although Astra never addressed it, I think that she knew something happened. She did not chastise me for weeping and held me long after I had stopped crying. When finally I was ready to pull away, she even held me just a little bit longer. She whispered a single question to me.

 

“You’re okay?”

I nodded.

 

Finally, I managed to pull myself away from her.

 

“Good,” she said. “Because they’re going to need you even more now. Vasmus has command of the operation, but you’re the one that plotted this all out. Make sure that we fight them – and that we win.”

 

It only made sense that Vasmus would take command. I glanced in his direction and then back to Astra. “I don’t know if I can do this without you.”

 

“Of course you can,” Astra reassured me. “Vasmus is battle-hardened. It’s time for you to show that you are as well.”

 

I could have blubbered on about how I needed her by my side, but as I glanced down to the wound in her leg I knew that it was futile. It was miraculous enough that she was not screaming; the bolt had fractured her bone. If she could bear up under the pain, I had no excuse not to do the same.

 

“Trust your instincts and you’ll be fine.” Astra ruffled my hair and offered me a parting smile. “If nothing else, they’ve gotten you this far.”

 

I tried my best to return a smile to her, but the torrent of emotions that I felt was difficult to master. As Astra limped away with the assistance of Fendar, I looked to Keller. Behind him were Mandalorians gathered around Saurek, giving the technician pats on the back. I knew that was what he always wanted and did not want to take away from his moment of joy.

 

Keller and I continued to stand there. When Saurek gave me a wave I knew that I should go over and join him. I felt Keller’s hand on my shoulder and stopped. I was hardly surprised to see the look in his eyes.

 

“Siana,” he said as comfortingly as possible. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I nodded. “I am.”

 

Mandalorians are not the type of people to sit down and share their feelings. Although I did not confide in him, the fact that he was letting me know that I could was perhaps the kindest sentiment I had ever received from one of my brothers-in-arms. I gave him an appreciative smile.

 

And that was the last I heard him mention it. He shouldered his sniper rifle.

 

By the time that we made our way over to Saurek, Vasmus and the others had gathered as well. I listened to Saurek excitedly explain how he had used the positioning of the tanks to set off a chain reaction of explosions, but felt my attention pulled away to Vasmus. He was a capable fighter and a loyal Mandalorian – I had no reason to doubt him. I touched his arm and he looked toward me.

 

“What is the plan now?” I asked. He seemed to think over how best to reply to me, and then gave me a cool shrug.

“The new plan’s the same as the old one: we kill Vacians.”

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Chapter Seventeen: The Struggle.

 

I quickly came to understand that our merry band was not quite as merry without Astra in the lead. Vasmus was in no way an incompetent leader, but his was a style of leadership that demanded quick actions with little thought. Changes to the structuring of the squads were made and for his valiant showing against the Coalition’s tank forces, Saurek was given a promotion to squad leader. That the promotion came with a demotion to me was not at all met with hostility: I was willing to step aside if it meant giving Saurek a chance to prove himself.

 

Surprisingly enough, I was comfortable with following for the time being.

 

The battle with Captain Korgus’ forces had been a definitive victory for Clan Daue, but it had not come at an easy price. While our spirits were an indefatigable resource, the bodies that came with them were not.

 

I do not know how many of us there were at the height of our community, but by all accounts we were the largest of the clans upon the planet. Had Uncle Valgor’s men not been ambushed and defeated, we would have been capable of meeting the Coalition at a 1:2 ratio. Unfortunately, the nexu’s share of our manpower went with my uncle on his doomed campaign and were either slaughtered or forced into hiding. This alone reduced our number dramatically, but there was still more to be considered.

 

If we were to place all of our available men into the field, it was possible that we might match either the number of the Vacians or the Hundarii; however, the rigors of war are not bourn upon the shoulders of warriors alone. Those that could potentially fight were kept in fields and repair shops, constantly working to upgrade the defenses of our fortress. Furthermore, there was the garrison of stalwarts that awaited the siege so they could repel it and buy us more time to fight. When these things were factored together, it only further dwindled the amount of soldiers that could be in the field.

 

And then there was the battle that we had just fought, where although we vanquished Captain Kogus’ forces, we nevertheless exhausted our own forces. It had been a costly battle in both the element of surprise and sheer manpower. Time and terrain were on our side, but the sluggishly moving armies of the Coalition could not be forgotten. We were a ragtag team of expeditionary soldiers against a legion of foes.

 

From that point on, it was certain to be a struggle.

 

The redistribution of forces was not done solely to establish Vasmus as the new leader of the vanguard. His view was one that dealt with less bulk in exchange for more efficiency in movement. The squads were broken again into smaller cells and each given a specific area to harass. Although we could be given the call to change our objective and assist another region at any time, it was better that we know our patches of terrain so that when the Coalition’s forces made their way through it we could strike them quickly and move on retreat.

 

Initially there was a predictable backlash against Vasmus’ tactics. Many felt that our stealthy attacks were cowardly: that we were abandoning the valor of battle for the comfort of subterfuge. In his first showing as a leader in his own right, Vasmus addressed those claims directly.

 

“Then think me a coward and tell it to your children. But that you will have children to insult me to says enough as to the value of this plan.”

 

And in that way, Vasmus reminded many that we were fighting for more than personal glory – we were fighting for the honor of our clans. The most important thing that we could do was continue to buy them time. The bombardments over the fortress had already begun and the longer we kept ground troops from arriving, the better. I did not want to think of how scorched the earth would be when I returned home. I made myself focus on the present, and in doing so removed the phantom of dread that would have otherwise compromised my ability to act.

 

Just as Vasmus was a natural selection for leader, so too was Saurek an ideal candidate for becoming a squad leader. The change in power from my hands to his was handled seamlessly, and although a childish spat of pride did make me resent him for a day or two, he never sought to establish himself directly as my superior. It became more a matter of two friends sharing a title, rather than one subjugating the other. I had been even and kind with him when I was in charge, and he returned that as best he could.

 

The pettiness of politics had to be forgotten in the face of the approaching Armageddon.

 

But although we had become smarter in attacking the Coalition, so too had their forces become wiser in dealing with our antics. Attacking them in densely forested areas was dangerous enough, for rather than risk being overtaken they would simply unleash waves of flame against the underbrush and let the ensuing fire flush out any Dauen clansman that may have been within the area. Commander Vexius was no fool: he had learned well from the two defeats handed to his subordinate.

 

While we worked on stalling the forces that accompanied Commander Vexius, the base was left to handle General Masaeron and his Hundarii soldiers. Although I was never given the chance of seeing the opening salvos, I have been told it was as though the heavens came crashing down and the stars were at the command of the Hundarii general. For days and nights they shelled and attacked our stronghold with everything they had, and through it all we managed to stand firm. It does me proud to think of the brave men and women that fought to survive through the siege. Even if the stronghold was to fall, their sacrifices would live on forever.

 

Vasmus’ decision to turn us from a standing army into a guerilla attack squad necessitated that changes in munitions be made. My carbine was exchanged for a sniper rifle, and alongside Keller and others in my squad I worked with tireless precision in picking off however many soldiers I could. It was not that we were given any advantage from actually killing them: whenever a sniper was sighted, the groups were forced to halt and sweep the area. By the time they found our nest we would be long gone, but it continued to buy us valuable time.

 

Soldiering in this manner may have been effective, but it was also filled with lulls in activity. There would come times when a designated target might hunker down and leave us with nothing to do. More importantly, once the siege was erected against our stronghold, we were effectively cut off from supplies. To fill the void of time, we would often assign pairs of soldiers to hunt for game while the others waited out the enemy until they took to moving again.

 

Fall had come at long last and with it so too came the chill of winter and the promise of snow to follow. Captain Kogus’ forces had not been vanquished so long ago, but already our rations were depleting even with the supplement of game birds or local fauna. To compensate we were often given to reducing the amount of food that we could eat per day. The caloric intake of a Mandalorian is near religious, but in hard times concessions must be made. Sluggish or not, we had a duty to accomplish and it could not be forgotten for the simple pains of hunger.

 

My birthday came without a word from anyone back in the stronghold. I knew that sending a transmission in or out of the compound was difficult enough, but part of me had hoped that Astra or my father might have sent word back to me. There was no doubt that Astra would be incapable of assisting us in the forest: once her wounds were healed she would undoubtedly become a commander for the base’s soldiers. Although it was an honor, it nevertheless left me feeling somewhat abandoned.

 

I was filled with that feeling of dejection as I lay within tall grass, watching a collection of Coalition soldiers through the scope of my rifle. I could have taken a shot several times, but in killing one of them I would do nothing more than encourage them to move. For the time being they were keeping their position and there was no reason for me to hurry them along.

 

Saurek cleaned his rifle, while Keller took to carving a branch with his dagger. I had come to realize that in addition to being insatiably talkative, Keller’s other irritating quality was that he could not seem to keep his hands still for a long period of time. As a sniper he was an excellent shot, but assign him to watch a target and you could set your chrono to the amount of time it would take him before he took a shot at someone. If it came between having to listen to him chatter and carve, or being forced to move several kilos to clear ourselves from suspicion, we begrudgingly accepted the former.

 

“You know why they call it pi, right?” It was a question that had no real purpose, and I groaned almost as loudly as Saurek’s stomach was at that point. To stave off talk of food we had encouraged Keller to talk about things. Of course, his decision to speak in turn led him to a topic that no one wanted to hear – for two reasons.

 

In his increasingly tired voice, Saurek replied. “No, but I’m certain you’re going to tell us.”

 

“It’s because if you were to lay a strip on any circle and calculate its circumference, then divide that by its diameter, you end up with a number,” Keller went on to explain without bothering to stop to hear if we actually cared further. “It’s a number that has no end: 3.1415…”

 

And he kept going. I did not know if he had memorized the formula in his head or if he was actually doing the math to pass the time, but the sound of his voice droning on and on was enough to lull me into a partial stupor. When mixing the cold with my hunger there was little to keep me from finding an escape from reality, and whenever it presented itself I grabbed it if only for a moment or two of solace.

 

I thought of my past birthdays, when I had something to look forward to other than cold nights and the threat of Keller talking my ear off. It was a time different than simply not being hungry or irritated: in the past, each year of my life brought me closer to something. I had been striving for a goal that I had by now achieved, and that the age of thirteen was behind me I was uncertain how I was supposed to handle the passage of time. Was the next important day in my life when my life ended?

 

For a moment I thought to ask Saurek how he dealt with passing his verd’goten, but as I looked in his direction I saw that he was fighting hard enough to keep from snapping Keller’s neck.

 

“…919530…”

 

I saw no reason to add to this burden.

 

Still, I missed having something to work forward to. We may have been fighting to stave off the Coalition, but win or fail that would happen regardless of my age. Eventually either we would die or they would: the least important thing was my age. The world seemed to be without any real guiding force except to keep the war going after one’s passage of the verd’goten, and while that may have seemed like a romantic notion as a child I could not help but wonder how it was that brave men like my ancestor Roga, or even Mandalore the Preserver, had been able to rise day after day knowing that the only thing they would find was more of the same.

 

Perhaps that was why they rushed headlong into battle, because they knew that the labors of life did not ever become easier. We may have won battles, we may have lost battles, but at the end of the day I would be a young woman hiding in grass no matter what happened. I knew that I was being unnecessarily macabre, but it was the first birthday I experienced in which I realized there was no goal – no end point.

 

“If you say the word pi one more time, Keller,” Saurek finally began to grumble as he had reached his limit. “I’m going to rip your head off your scrawny little neck, shove it all the way up your hindparts, and pry your eyes open just so you can see how badly I’m going to kick your tailbone in.”

 

The comment caused Keller to come to a stop. “Well if you didn’t like it, all you had to do was say so.”

“I don’t like it,” Saurek said quickly.

 

Keller waved his hand dismissively but did not speak again. He often made a show of being upset: it would last five minutes before he was yammering again.

 

There was a report between Keller and Saurek that I had once shared with members of my immediate family. I knew that it was vain to think that I had a closer tie to Astra or my father than anyone else, but it was a thought that comforted me in the darkest of hours. I wondered if a similar thought kept my mother safe – if it was what she fought to relive once more.

 

The night was starless on my birthday, but through the tree branches I could make out a clear and brilliant moon. Knowing that my mother could see the same moon as me, four years after we last spoke, was in itself something of a comforting thought. We could share that, if nothing else. Her strength to keep fighting had not wavered and so I knew that mine should not either.

 

But was that not the problem?

 

My mother had lived her life like a Mandalorian. When her clan leader gave the call to battle, for whatever reason, she answered it. She lived her life for her children and at that moment was fighting for the idea that we would survive because of his sacrifices. But in the end she was in the same position as me: looking through a sniper rifle and hoping that the enemy would make a mistake. I heard Keller begin to talk once more and looked back through my scope. It may have been better to resign myself to my fate.

 

“We’ve got motion,” I said in an attempt to break through Keller’s monologue. It was not the first time that our group had moved, but whenever they did I was forced to report it. If they began approaching a certain portion of the forest it meant that they were going to try to move, and that we had to stop them however we could.

 

Saurek pushed away from his tree and lifted his scope to judge their distance. “They’ve got another good two kilometers before they’re in the killing zone. A few of them probably just want to get their legs warmed up for the night.”

 

“Preserver,” Keller snorted, “I wish I could warm my legs. At least back at the compound we had the fire to keep us warm.”

A predictable snort left Saurek. “With all the calories you burn yammering, I’m surprised you ain’t broken a sweat yet.”

 

I zoned the two out and continued to watch my quarry. Just as Saurek said, it was more than likely nothing more than a simple warm up exercise. The winds of winter were fast approaching and while I was given to shivering, I knew that there were others that handled it worse than I did. The Coalition soldiers were by and large more comfortable when dealing with the cold, but I suppose the breed of cold that we have is different from what they are accustomed to. I am told that hail is the most common form of precipitation in Hundarii and Vacian lands. By contrast, while we may receive snow, most of our winters are filled with frigid days and glacial nights.

 

I was not looking forward to hunkering in the cold when winter arrived.

 

The soldier in my sights crouched for a moment and then stood back up and walked toward his comrades. My heart began to fall as he turned around, but I knew that it could be a diversionary tactic. The advantage that a sniper had was surprise; if they could fool one of us into giving away our position, it would be only a matter of seconds before rockets and bolts were flying in our direction. My finger may have itched to pull the trigger: the grid on my HUD centered in on the man’s neck with a 95% accuracy rating, but I knew I should not take the shot.

 

I began to wonder what the soldier was thinking at that moment. His life was in my hands and more than likely he had absolutely no idea that he was a centimeter away from death. I could pull the trigger and end him: end everything that he would become and everything that he would have done. It was a powerful feeling, but it did not come without its drawbacks. In knowing that I could end his future, I also knew that I could change his past. I highly doubted that he was in our territory because he had an aversion for Dauen men and women. More than likely his clan leader gave him a call and so he answered – just as we all had.

 

Even Captain Kogus had stated why he fought us: he felt that we had betrayed his people, and in a way he was correct. My father had told Uncle Valgor that treachery begot treachery, and yet Uncle Valgor ignored him. Now we were facing nearly certain doom and the only people that we could blame was ourselves.

 

Of course, thinking of Captain Kogus did not at all make me feel better. Until that point in time I had not thought of many things involving war, and that in particular was one that kept me awake at night. Keller’s arrival had been timely and I thanked the Preserver for that, but I did not know how I would have been able to go on had he not. There was no one to speak to about it, and even if there was I would have been too embarrassed to do so. If sleepless nights meant keeping my dignity, I would suffer through them. The only people that knew about it were me, Kogus, and Keller. One of them was dead and the other was a man that though talkative was wise enough not to bring it up again.

 

Was that what I had to look forward to in the future? More near death experiences or worse? At the age of six I had not worried about either, yet at fourteen I was now wary of any passing shadow or rustling in the night. My mortality was a fragile thing and while Mandalorians were taught to race it as fiercely as they could, I do not know how we should view what had been on the horizon. If all I had to look forward to was the depravity of mankind, then I was even less willing to go on.

 

Perhaps the soldier in my crosshairs was the lucky one – perhaps I was the one that hadn’t any power. For if he died, then he would never have to experience the hardships and the pain. He would not need to know the toil or the misery that was life. There were so many downs and so few ups, after all. The only thing I had to look forward to was the past: my only happy memories were the thoughts of a family that had been shattered by war. How long would it be before a blaster bolt finally killed Astra, or a bomb landed on the command center and removed not only my father from life, but also the home I had once known?

 

Much to my surprise, I did not cry. It was not that I was not sad, or that I did not want to cry, but there were no longer any tears left in me. That realization was a bittersweet one, for although I had always hated how easily I wept, it had been a sign that I was still capable of feeling. Now there was only a harrowing emptiness that ran through me with the same dolorous chiming as the wind rustling through the fading trees. War had not bred within me a flower: it had created a weed. I was a contemptuous and wretched growth that had no purpose other than to strangle the life from others.

 

And with a single pull of the trigger, I could remove the life from the man in front of me. It would be so easy – so unfathomably easy, to both alleviate his pain and bring to an end his happiness. We could easily make the run from our nest to another section of the forest. Perhaps Vasmus would be upset with us, but I was beginning to feel that there was little reason to listen to Vasmus either. What would really come of it?

 

I could end up like Saurek: past my prime and clinging to glory by whatever scraps I could get. I could end up like Keller: a social pariah that chattered to himself because no one wanted to hear him. I could end up like Cadim, who now ran through the wilderness if he had not already been captured, or I could have ended up like mother and be cold and estranged from those I loved. The potential outcomes were all bleak and empty.

 

It was a struggle to want to keep going. It was a struggle to find a reason to take in another breath and then let it out. Why did I continue, when inevitably the end goal would always be the same? I could affect a change now.

 

All I had to do was pull the trigger.

 

It was then that something unexpected occurred. With my nerve all but built and ready to end the man’s life, I saw the HUD on my screen shift. In the uppermost corner, the name “Astra – Base” scrawled across my vision.

 

“Happy Birthday, Kathhound,” I heard her say in a distorted voice. The scramblers from the Hundarii position must have been strong – I would not have expected to hear from her at all. As close as I had been to terminating the soldier, I relaxed and spoke in response to my helmet.

 

“I thought you forgot,” I admitted with a tinge of my concealed sorrow floating away from me. “Thanks.”

 

Hearing Astra’s laugh surprised me: it was a warmth that I had not known for quite some time. “How am I going to forget your birthday? I’ve spent the last five something years preparing you for it!”

 

I could hear explosions in the background, but they were distant. The fighting was still going on, but the lack of panic in Astra’s voice soothed me just a bit. “You’ve got a point,” I whispered. “It’s different without you out here.”

 

Astra was silent then. I waited to hear her voice and then spoke carefully. “Astra?”

 

“Sorry,” she said hastily. “The Hundarii were doing their daily bombing run. They lower their scramblers for a few minutes before and after, so I took the chance to contact you.”

 

“Instead of Vasmus?”

“Someone else can contact Vasmus,” Astra chuckled. “I wanted to tell my sister happy birthday.”

 

I did not need a present or a new lesson in martial arts to mark the day: hearing Astra say those words to me was nurturing enough. I knew that if I thought too long on it I would get choked up, so I tried to push forth in the conversation.

 

“How are things there – with the Hundarii and all?”

“Tough,” Astra quickly answered, “but manageable. Keller’s anti-air magic is keeping them from hitting anything major, and the soldiers are going to the front regularly to keep them from advancing on us.”

 

“I miss having you out here,” I confessed. “The soldiers are lucky to have you leading them.”

“I’m not leading them,” Astra said. “In fact, I won’t be leading anyone for awhile.”

 

It was difficult for me to reconcile the notion of Astra with the lack of ability to lead. While her blaster wound had been gruesome, I had seen people recover from worse. She could have cybernetics placed in if need be – cloned flesh could be flown in, couldn’t it? There had to be a way to keep her from becoming a sideline soldier.

 

“Your wound wasn’t that bad.” I gave voice to my thoughts, although I tried to sound jocular there was a doubtless level of despair to my voice. “We need you out here – I need you.”

 

“It isn’t that, Siana,” Astra said. Her voice was different then, I could not quite read it. Perhaps it was the distortion, or simply that she was speaking in a way I had never before heard. “When I returned to base, Doctor Renasin gave me a full bio-physical. He wanted to make sure that I hadn’t gotten an infection.”

 

Infection was a gruesome killer. While we had antiseptics in our med-kits, there were always dangerous bacterium that could resist even the most preventative of medicines. I had seen gaping holes torn into the flesh of people from the silent killers of infection. I did not want to see that happen to Astra.

 

“You’re sick?”

“No,” Astra said. “I’m going to become a mother.”

 

It was similar to when the grenade had gone off near me during the Battle of Land’s Bridge. For a moment everything went silent, and then as sound came back to me I felt a rush of emotions. All of the dejection and torment that I had felt moments before melted away and in its place was a new emotion, raw and unrestrained. I could instantly identify the sound in Astra’s voice, because it was bleeding into my own: giddiness, happiness.

 

“What? How? When?” The words left me without any supporting sentences. Thankfully, Astra understood exactly what I meant.

 

“Before we left for the frontlines, Cadim and I were married by Dad. I don’t think that you need me to explain to you where babies come from, do you?”

 

“Mom did that before,” I said with a mixture of embarrassment, irritation, and sheer exhilaration. “But you and Cadim – a baby?”

 

“Hey, congratulations!” Keller shouted loud enough for my helmet to pick up.

 

“Tell Keller I said thank you.”

“She says to shut the hell up, Keller.”

“Siana!”

“—Believe me, Astra. If you heard what he’s been talking about, you’d agree.”

 

I was so overtaken with my joy that I felt blood tingling all through my body. The white-hot excitement that came with Astra’s news was so brilliant that it did well to banish the doubts I had previously felt.

 

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about the wedding before we left,” Astra said uneasily, “but I didn’t want to upset you before our march.”

I knew her meaning immediately. “Upset me? I’m so happy for you! Do you know what you’ll name him?”

“Why are you so certain it’ll be a boy?”

“I think Father’s had his fill of female Daue for a lifetime.”

 

We both laughed at that.

 

“We’ll worry about names later,” Astra said as her laughter came to an end. “Anyway, I should get going before the scrambler comes back up. I hope that you’re taking care of your hounds.”

 

“The hounds are being as well taken care of as this forest allows,” I answered glibly.

“That bad?” She asked.

“Even worse.”

 

There was a pause then. I knew that Astra wanted to be back out here with us, just as much as I wanted to be back home with her. In that situation, only one thing could really be said:

 

“Love you, Sis.”

“I love you too, Astra.”

 

And then the communication link went dead.

 

I sat silently for a moment after that, filled with the aftershock of Astra’s news. I was going to become an aunt – Astra was going to be a mother! I did not have a shred of doubt that she would be able to pull it off: she had raised me and would only be able to do even better the second time around.

 

Saurek and Keller both seemed to have absorbed just a bit of my happiness. Although we did not have any fire to keep us warm, that joy was like a flame in itself. It protected us against the biting cold and reminded us of the warmth that waited for us when we returned home. They had as much reason to celebrate as I did – a new member of the Clan Daue was a new family member for all.

 

“So what’s she naming her?” Keller asked.

“Why do you think it will be a girl?” Saurek’s voice broke in before mine could.

Keller shrugged. “Cadim doesn’t seem like a guy to produce sons.”

“I bet you wouldn’t say that to his face,” Saurek challenged.

“Why not!” Keller scoffed. “There’s nothing wrong with girls!”

 

As the two of them took to bickering (for at this point I had come to understand it was how they expressed their love for one another), I felt my mind go on a journey. It left my body; it left the soldier whose life was still in my scope; it left the forest and the squads that roamed; it left the war zone and fell upon my home, where Astra and her future child were to be protected and sheltered. For all of the ills in the world: for all of the horrors I had seen and was yet to see, there was a beauty within that concept that banished even the darkest of shadows in its light.

 

When I returned my attention to the fore I noticed that the soldier was still in range of me. A moment prior I had been willing to kill him to end his suffering, but now I could not help but imagine what he would be missing out on if I did. There would be misery, but there too would be joy. He may have a child on the way – or he may have had several waiting for him back at home.

 

I switched off my scope and sat up; the frigid air was like a blanket and shifted on me after I moved. No longer was I weighted down by it though: it was just a reminder of my being alive.

 

There was still more to look forward to in life. I would be able to see Astra’s child be born and perhaps even help raise him or her when their verd’goten came around. I would be able to teach them the things that Astra had shown me, and help them whenever they were in need. I would be a good aunt, because Astra had shown me how to be a good Mandalorian woman.

 

And then, maybe, one day, I would have my own child. Maybe I would have several! I would be able to teach them as I had been taught, and they would in turn go on to teach their children as well. The options were limitless, because the future was always in motion. It was simple to be bogged down in the pains of the present, but the glowering light of the future was all the more appealing.

 

I looked over my shoulder and saw that Keller and Saurek were still arguing. I could not help but smile at the sight of them.

 

We were all in for the fight of our lives, but the struggle was not something we needed to hear. It was the act of struggling that proved we wanted to live: that we were willing to prevail where others had failed. Watching Saurek place Keller in a headlock, I gave off a giggle. It was a sound I had not heard from myself in quite some time, yet as it left me I couldn’t help but do it again.

 

“You know what I want?” I managed through my giggling.

Saurek looked up from his hold on Keller. “What’s that?”

“Pie.”

 

Saurek’s groan could not prevent Keller from wrenching himself free and holding up a finger as he began to ramble.

“The funny thing about a pie is, if you divide its circumference…”

 

Preserver. It felt good to be alive.

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Chapter Eighteen: The Siege.

 

There is an aspect of these memoirs that needs to be told; however, I cannot speak of it personally. While we worked our guerilla warfare against the Coalition from the cover of the forest, their forces inevitably made their way toward the stronghold. Although we managed to stall Commander Vexius’ soldiers from adding into the melee, it was General Masaeron’s Hundarii veterans that claimed the initial victories for the Coalition. Fresh and well rested, the Hundarii descended upon the battle-weary Dauen front with an unyielding temerity. In the first few days of combat, we were handed resounding defeats.

 

This dark period in our history, in which the stalwart champions of Clan Daue were pushed to the brink of extinction, is referred to only as the Siege. While we Mandalorians greatly encourage the retelling of a story, the Siege has become an event so steeped within misery and bloodshed that there are few willing to speak freely of the horrors they experienced. There are those that I could ask, but I am loathe to hear their answers. There are others that I have asked, but they only give me a dark and distant stare.

 

The Siege was a horrible event, but like all horrors it must be explored if we are to understand the entirety of the Clan Wars.

 

It took me several years to find someone that would be willing to discuss the Siege with me. Long after it had occurred – long after the Great Clan War had come to its end, I happened across a couple that I had not seen since my childhood. It was rare that I might encounter a member of Clan Daue away from our planet, but as I have come to find as time wanes so too do the nomadic origins of our people return. They were on a quest of their own and in the sea of unfamiliarity it was nice to find someone that I could trust.

 

The husband and wife, Arestes and Maeda respectively, had been veteran soldiers before the Siege occurred. As former members of Uncle Valgor’s campaign much of the stronghold’s defenses fell on their shoulders. We freely spoke of things leading up to the battle itself, but as it began to approach I could feel them turning away from me and growing cold. Rather than encourage them to shut down completely, I instead accepted when they offered me a dinner at their home. It is very rare, and near heretical, for a Mandalorian to turn down a meal offered by another.

 

That is one convention I have no problem abiding by.

 

When we arrived to their home, I found that their youngest child had become a warrior in her own right. Lyth, but a girl when last I saw her, was now nearly four years past her verd’goten. I did not recognize her immediately, but I could see in her eyes a glint of familiarity that played upon my heart. As a family we ate our dinner, the meal far less important than the oneness it represented amongst us. I was fairly certain that if I allowed the chance to pass me that I would never have my glimpse into the Siege and thus my story would forever be incomplete.

 

So I asked them one final time what had happened during the Siege.

 

They did not shun me initially. Their faces turned cold and their expressions darkened, but unlike in times past they did not immediately change the subject. When they spoke, it was in a voice detached. I began to understand that the reason why people did not speak of the Siege was because they did not want to be the people that lived through it. Whatever had occurred, it had uniquely broken a part of nearly everyone that encountered it. It was as though they were speaking of an event that happened to someone else, a lifetime ago.

 

“That was a very blood time,” Arestes began.

Maeda agreed. “The bloodiest that I have ever seen.”

 

It was a glimpse into what had occurred, but nothing more. I understood their pain and dejection, yet from it I could not properly extract information or details. But to force their hand further – to make them relieve those horrific moments, would be a task far crueler than I was capable of. I relented in my questions and I saw them visibly relax.

 

“I suppose it does not matter what transpired,” I lied. “You survived it.”

They both gave me a look that spoke for itself: Did we really?

 

I was invited to stay with them that night and did so out of a lack of desire to sleep in the confines of a ship. The decision was not one I would regret for near midnight I heard a soft knocking on my door. As anyone that has survived a war would have done, the first thing I did was check to ensure that my blaster was nearby and then that its safety was not engaged. There are some scars that we wear but others cannot see – scars that mark us for who we are, even when we wish they did not.

 

“Come in,” I said.

The door opened.

 

The anxiety I felt when that door opened was the same as the anxiety I have felt for the entirety of my life. It calls to mind the primordial fear of a rustling bush or a trembling tree. That there is something I cannot see intently focused on me forces a desire for protection that saved me in the Wilds and has nearly cost innocent bystanders their lives on countless occasions. When I saw a hand, palm exposed, appear through the side of the door I knew that the person understood my plight.

 

I relaxed visibly.

 

“I’m sorry if I awakened you,” the voice said as its owner slid further into view. The couple’s daughter, Lyth, had been surprisingly quiet throughout the evening. I had seen her give me a few vague glances, but never actually include herself into the story. “I just wanted to talk.”

 

“A whisper awakens me,” I chuckled. While I am no telepath, over the course of my life I have learned to read a person fairly well. The manner in which she would not meet my eyes – the way that her hand lingered by the door. She was fighting against the desire to tell me something and the fear of doing so. On young men it was pronounced with a forceful tone of voice, but when Lyth spoke she truly did whisper. “Please, come in, sister.”

 

And so she did. I was quite uncertain what it was this young woman had to tell me, but I knew she greatly wanted to do so. I managed to give her an encouraging smile, and she returned it fleetingly.

 

“You probably don’t remember me,” she said meekly.

I did not want to admit that she was correct. I was certain I had seen her before, but did not recall ever exchanging words. “Of course I do. We are both survivors – you and I.”

The answer caused her to smile. “Yes, we are.”

“Then why would I not remember you?”

“Because the girl I was is not the woman I have become.”

 

It was not the first time I had heard that sentiment, nor would it be the last. Just as I had been forged by that war, so too had others been broken in its fires; there were women who would never become mothers for fear of what they had experienced – men that would never become fathers out of shame for what they had done. I did not pass judgment as I heard her speak, though. If I would not recognize her for who she was, then I would have to consider who she had been.

 

Her black hair and green eyes were familiar, but they did not speak to me of anything in particular. She was paler than most of our clansmen, but that could be accounted for by the fact she did not work on the farms as we had. The sad nature of her smile was not at all like what I had seen before. I had to evade it if I was to recall who she was – I had to look beneath the surface of her pain.

 

“I was a little girl the first time we met,” she confessed with another of her dry chuckles. “We all looked up to you. When you told us your stories, we lived them through you.”

I should have felt horrified in not remembering the girl, but as she specified that bit of information I immediately had a flash of acuity. “After the Battle of Land’s Bridge?”

“Yes.” Her amazement managed to shine through her dejection. “I remember every word of it – your struggle against the octopus.”

 

That had been the first story I ever told: a story that I held so dear that it had not been told many times after the first. When she said that, I could not help but think back to the glow of the fire and the warmth that it basked us in that night. There had been a blonde boy with freckles – Qiras, was that his name? He asked more questions than I could answer, but his inquisitiveness kept me alert and focused on the story’s minor details.

 

“You sat near the boy, Qiras,” I wagered. I could distinctly recall a little girl now, with green eyes and black hair, who clutched a small doll in her hands. Lyth nodded.

She blushed as she spoke, her voice nearly aflutter. “I did. Qiras is one of the Ge’verd Te’raysh, you know.”

 

I was not at all surprised by the sorrow that I heard on her voice when she said Ge’verd Te’raysh – the Ten Little Warriors. The brutality of the Siege could not be completely understood without mention of them, and while few would speak directly of the Siege, we had all come to learn the names of Ge’verd Te’raysh.

 

. “Xemona, Zahana, Walara, Fesima, Anara, Codaris, Thorne, Yana, Actim, and Qiras.” Lyth repeated the names without needing to think. She repeated the names as though they were spoken through her by their previous owners. The sadness that was on her face made perfect sense to me then. As with all those who had survived a tragedy, the young woman’s guilt for prevailing where her friends did not was oppressive.

 

I patted the bed beside me and she slowly made her way over. When she sat down, I placed my hand on the back of hers. “It isn’t your fault,” I told her. “You survived – your friends would be proud of you.”

Although I cannot be certain of it, I believe they were words she had never heard. She turned to me and gave me a hug, and I returned the gesture readily.

 

“You wanted to hear their story – our story,” she said to me in a whisper. “I’ve never told it before, because no one has ever wanted to hear it… but I believe that if I do, then they will be remembered and honored.”

 

The strain in her voice was so great that I could only pat her on her back until she had recovered herself somewhat. Once she did, I allowed her to depart from the embrace and looked comfortingly to her. “You needn’t speak of it if you do not wish to. In all of my travels, none have been capable of doing so.”

 

But she did not accept the honorable out I had given her. Lyth, for all of her supposed weakness, was a stronger woman than she gave herself credit for. “Xemona, Zahana, Walara, Fesima, Anara, Codaris, Thorne, Yana, Actim, and Qiras,” she said to me once more.

 

“I want to tell you my story, big sister. I want you to know who we are.”

 

And so I listened.

This, she informed me, was the story of the Siege.

 

 

_____________________________________

 

 

 

 

At first, we did not know what was happening. We were all playing outside – something that our mothers hated, but never stopped us from doing. Our verd’goten were so far away then that it didn’t make sense to make us train, and as the world was already a dark enough place I guess they didn’t see a reason to keep us from having a little bit of fun. So yes, we were outside when it began. And when it did, we didn’t really know how to respond.

 

The ground was moving. It wasn’t like an earthquake, which I had experienced once before. No, it was like the ground was moving because the air told it to. We had survived through bombing runs already. Your father’s decision to build bunkers and trenches saved us countless times from those. And then there were Keller’s turrets, do you remember those? They had a little chime on them whenever they picked up the approaching sound of a speeder. We used to sing a song to them. In fact, we were singing it when the ground started to shake:

 

Here they come, once again

Airspeeders, zooming in.

Turrets go boom, they go boom.

I sure hope this is over soon!

 

Hah, morbid wasn’t it? But that was the world we knew. I think that our happiness actually gave our parents something to look forward to: if we could find a way to enjoy our lives, then so could they.

 

When the shaking started, I thought that the turrets had forgotten to turn on, but they never had – and never would. So I ran to my mother and she told me to go inside. I normally would have disregarded what she said, but when she spoke to me I could see it in her eyes that she meant it. I ran hurriedly back to our house and hid inside of it. My mother was close behind me, but half way to the house she stopped and looked out over the distance.

 

Captain Setarin was shouting at Adagar and Adagar was moving as fast as he could. You knew how Captain Setarin’s voice was – so bitter, yet loud. He was cursing up a storm for Adagar to move faster, and that poor boy was moving as fast as he could! Once Adagar climbed to the top of the tree and looked over the side of our walls and then shouted something back down. After he did, I saw my mother’s face turn white. She ran back to our home.

 

“Stay put,” she commanded. I didn’t dare disobey her.

“What’s wrong, mom?” I asked.

“They’re here.”

 

I know that you guys were fighting out in the Wilds then. You held Vexius’ men at bay, right? Whenever we heard how you had managed to chase him off, we cheered! I really did want to be like you – you were so like us, and yet not. But even though you gave it your all, what could you really do to stop the storm? Yes, you prevented it from coming at us full force, but it was only a matter of time before they showed up.

 

My mom and dad were armed and ready to defend the fortress before I had time to ask them what I should do. Your father was already prepared as well – Old Decimus, what a man he was. When he walked we all knew that we were safe, and together with Captains Setarin, Holgar, and Aden he led the soldiers out into the field. I was just about to go out after them my dad turned to me.

 

“Stay here,” he said.

“I want to go with you,” I answered.

 

He shook his head at me. “You’re not yet a warrior.”

“But I can fight!”

“Then defend our home.”

 

I took that order with pride. I understand now that he didn’t expect the fighting to go the way that it did, and that the thought of protecting our homes was not quite as realistic as it would later become. When he left, I stood on a crate and looked out the window as he moved. I saw them all vanish out the gate then. They were going to beat back those Coalie bastards and make sure they didn’t ever show their faces again!

 

I heard the fighting – we all did. It was distant at first, but it became closer as time went on. I wanted nothing more than to see what was happening, but as a soldier I had been given my post. I had to protect our home, no matter the cost! So I stood on that crate and continued to watch for them to appear again. That was when I heard the sirens and this time, there was no song accompanying them.

 

The ground where we had previously been playing was sent into the sky when a bomb struck it. I had seen explosives before, but when they had gone off I always had someone to share my giddy giggling with. Something about that day told me that there was no reason to be giddy or giggling. The air felt darker; the wind colder. I didn’t want to sing anymore – I didn’t want to dance in the bunkers. I just wanted my parents to come home as quickly as they could.

 

I saw something in the distance that I had forgotten when I was rushed inside; something that I was never without. The doll that my mother had made for me when I was a child sat on the ground that I dropped her. I knew that I had to protect the house, but I was also certain that if I left her she’d be hurt.

 

It’s weird to think of, but that was the first time I really had to make an adult decision. Would I follow orders or would I follow my code? I couldn’t leave behind anyone, and to me that doll was as much a Mandalorian as any friend I had at the time. So I made an executive decision – or as an executive a decision as a kid can make – and sprang out the window and ran for my doll.

 

I hadn’t taken more than twenty steps away from my house when I heard the most ear-piercing sound in the world. The world was really quiet after it, and then there was a flash of heat. I turned around and saw that the house I had been ordered to protect – the home that I had come to call my own, was now smoldering in flames from an airspeeder’s payload. I did not know if I should be thankful for what had occurred or if it was my fault for leaving the building, but I knew I had to get my doll now before anything bad happened to her.

 

I snatched her up as another airspeeder approached. The turrets were firing off a hundred shots a second, but the Coalies were bolder than usual. All around us there were fires and that sound of screaming in the distance only grew louder. I looked down at my doll and suddenly realized I had no idea where to go. She was missing an eye and a leg, but at least she wasn’t dead, right?

 

That was when I felt something hit me. Hard. So hard in fact that I was thrown from the ground. I didn’t know what to think at first, but when I looked up I saw your sister looming over me. Astra gave me a look to see if I was okay, and then she snatched me up just as I had my doll. One of the turrets struck an airspeeder and it exploded against the other side of the wall. Astra shielded me with her body and then carried me without slowing to the bunker.

 

“Your friends are inside,” she told me. “Stay here!”

 

So I did. This time, I knew I had to.

 

We all looked up to your sister then. She never looked like she didn’t know what to do – never stopped for a second to think because she always had a plan. She told us not to look out of the widows and to keep our heads down. Without waiting to see if we complied she ran back out into the village. I know that she was looking for more people to pull into the bunker.

 

There were a lot of us in the bunker. Most of the adults had gone out into the field, but there were some that stayed behind. Doctor Renasin was there; he looked much less composed than Astra. I don’t think that he was scared; I just think he wanted to be out there, but he made sure that we didn’t abandon our position as I had in our house.

 

I hugged my doll to my body and waited for the fighting to end, but it kept going. Even after Astra brought more people into the bunker, there was no sign that it would ever stop. I looked to one of the newly arrived boys – Qiras, the one you mentioned earlier. He was four years shy of his verd’goten then, but he already thought he was a warrior.

 

“I want to go out there with you,” he told Astra.

She didn’t bother to humor him. “No.”

“But I’m almost a warrior,” he told her.

“Not if you’re dead.”

 

That was the first time that we considered that we might die. As children we believed ourselves in a world apart from the war and the warriors. We thought the bombs were meant to scare us, not kill us. But when Astra said that, the shield of invincibility died away. I cried – I know others did too.

 

“We’ll need you all to grow strong and avenge us if we die,” Astra said after we started bawling. Of course, the logic in it worked. Odd thing that revenge is – it’s horrible to consider, but if anyone is to get it you want to make sure it’s your finger that catches the Hutt-loving bastard that took away your loved ones. So we huddled together in the bunker and we waited for the fighting to die down.

 

I fell asleep with my doll in my arms.

 

When I woke up, my mother had me in her arms. I saw tears in her eyes and asked her what was wrong, but she only shushed me and told me that it was all fine. I was worried that my dad had been hurt, but later I saw him helping the wounded back into the village.

 

We had lost a lot of men that day: nearly half of those that went out into the field didn’t make it back. There were some children that lost both of their parents – I was lucky enough to have mine with me.

 

Your father was dragging Captain Holgar in when we left the bunker. Mom told me to stay outside, so I did. I peeked into the doorway and saw that they were trying to rescue Holgar, but it was no good. The Hundarii blasters had torn him to pieces, and the mess of a man that was left wasn’t going to be rescued. Your dad had to pull Doc Renasin off of Holgar when he wouldn’t revive. We all said a prayer.

 

But there was more to the deaths than just fathers and sons. Brothers and sisters also died. Qiras, who had been so eager to go out into the field, lost both of his siblings to the Coalie offensive. It was the first time that we had experienced a defeat and it was a terrifying thing. I suppose we could call it a victory – those lives lost bought us another day to survive, but it was no simple task. Those that came back were all covered in blood, and I heard Old Decimus telling Captain Aden to prepare the turrets on the walls.

 

The Coalition had never been close enough to use them before. I knew this was bad.

 

I remember going to sleep in silence and waking up to the sound of battle. The second day of the Siege looked like it would be just as gruesome as the first. Instead of meeting them in the field, this time Old Decimus said we should wait for them to tear themselves apart on our defenses. I could hear the explosives going off and the turrets firing at wild, but the fact those two things never ended told me just how many of them there were out there. By noon, they had made their way to our walls and the soldiers were ordered back into the field.

 

Astra stayed with us and this time, she didn’t have to leave us to find survivors. She told us stories of her childhood to pass the time, but each time a bomb went off I knew she was wondering whether or not our position would be overtaken. Night was approaching when the fighting began to wane, but didn’t die out just yet. As the others were enthralled with a story I took my doll and snuck up the stairs to see what was happening outside.

 

The fighting was inside of our base – worse yet, it had become it. There were fires wavering in the wind and smoke billowed from each patch of flames. Where the enemy had broken through our walls, we had taken to patching up the holes by adding their bodies to it. But even with all the bodies being stacked as they were, there were still more on the ground. I didn’t want to look at the faces, because I knew that I would know them, but I was afraid that if I didn’t I wouldn’t see my parents again.

 

I could see vermin moving over the dead bodies, eating what they could. I wanted to vomit but I had not eaten all day, so there was nothing to give. I began to pull back into the bunker when I noticed something familiar on the ground.

 

I shouted for my mommy, but she didn’t get up. I shouted for my daddy, but he didn’t move either.

 

Before I could call out to them again, Astra pulled me back into the bunker. I turned to her and cried. I didn’t want to think of my parents being dead – I didn’t want to see the way those rats were eating them.

 

When the third day came, I didn’t know what to do with myself. I wanted to believe that I had been dreaming and my parents were alright, but they did not return for me. I cried and I cried.

 

The Coalition had been driven back enough to give us a time to recover but there was little that we could do. While Old Decimus fought in the fields, Astra commanded us at home. I believe that your sister’s presence was all that kept the men fighting. If they had to look back to their children they would not have been able to fight as mightily as they did, but in knowing that she would protect us – well, they gave it their all.

 

I heard that the fighting on the third day was just as bad as the second, but I couldn’t find it in myself to care. I wanted my mom and my dad and neither were ever going to come back to me. Even though he always said he was too big to hang out with kids like me, Qiras gave me a hug and I gave him one back. I didn’t let him go for the remainder of the day and he didn’t seem to mind.

 

But it was that night that we found out just how badly the Coalition wanted their victory. I didn’t know what was happening to me until I felt my leg being pulled. As with most of the orphans I had been placed in the main room of the home to prevent us from feeling alone. So when the Coalition’s soldiers snuck into our base at night, I was one of the first people that they saw. I screamed and fought back as the Hundarii tried to take me away, but I was too small to stop him.

 

That was when Qiras and Actim moved in to action. They threw themselves on the Hundarii, little champions that knew they had to protect their sister. I managed to get away from the soldier, but when I did he turned and shot Actim. The moment that Actim went down, Astra and the others came out of the bunker, but by then it was too late. Qiras was shot just as Actim had been, and the Hundarii retreated into the darkness.

 

While I had been lucky enough to escape being taken, there were others that had not been so fortunate. Throughout the night we heard their screams of terror as the Hundarii attempted to draw us out and into the trap they had waiting. I tried to cover my ears, but I couldn’t forget the looks on the faces of those I had seen killed – nor could I stop hearing the sounds of blasters.

 

Old Decimus kept everyone inside the gates though and had extra guards posted to make sure no one else made it in or out. He said that if we went out into their trap we’d only be sacrificing those that had not been taken. That night was the worst of them all – it was the night that broke many of us. Having to hear their sorrowful cries, or their gasps until finally they were quiet. The Ge’verd Te’raysh were born on that day.

 

Xemona, Zahana, Walara, Fesima, Anara, Codaris, Thorne, Yana, Actim, and Qiras.

Xemona, Zahana, Walara, Fesima, Anara, Codaris, Thorne, Yana, Actim, and Qiras.

 

My friends. My family. Taken into the night and never seen again.

 

The fourth day, they didn’t come back quite as strong as they had before. We were all tired from staying up that night, but when they could have landed their killing blow they did not. It turns out that you Kathhounds were out there making quite a mess, huh? Oya, when we found out that the Hundarii were getting their hindparts handed to them from the Wilds, we knew that we had at least a glimmer of hope. And you know, that’s all a person really needs to go on.

 

After that, the fighting became infrequent. While they hunted you guys down, Old Decimus made certain that the wounded were treated and the dead accounted for. I saw my mom and dad for the last time that day, being buried along with all the others that had died. The smell of death was strong then, because we did not bother to take down the Hundarii corpses. They were festering while our loved ones were given the sweet resting place of good soil.

 

That day I was adopted by my mom and dad – the two you saw out there. There were so many families that were broken then, it only made sense that new ones be formed. Sons without fathers. Daughters without mothers. We were forged anew from that. I may not have become the woman I was meant to be, but they made certain that I didn’t stop trying to live.

 

But the battle was not over. When you guys finally had to give up the fight, we were left with the very real fact that the Hundarii weren’t going to give up without giving us everything they had. And so they did.

 

We could all see the fighting this time – I refused to hide in a bunker any longer. If we were going to die, then I wanted to die seeing Mandalorians fight the way that they knew how. Old Decimus took his men into the field and Astra commanded the few that stayed behind. The fighting was so intense – I don’t think a second went by when there wasn’t blaster fire. They kept fighting and took down our turrets: they kept fighting and burned down our walls. I was so afraid, but I knew if I looked away then everyone I loved would die.

 

I saw Astra kill three men that day without having to look. I saw Adagar get sniped from the top of his tree and go plummeting to the ground. I saw men and women give their lives to prevent the Hundarii from breaching our village. I saw Old Decimus fighting with everything he had to keep their tide back. I saw brothers die for brothers; sons sacrifice themselves for their fathers. The more that we pushed back, the more the Hundarii approached. We may have taken five of them for every one of us, but we were dwindling.

 

They started to pull back slowly. We kept chasing them. When finally they had been pushed out of the village the soldiers gave chase. Your father was at the lead, firing with everything he had as they moved away. They had made it no further than the outside of the village when from their ranks emerged something that we had never before seen.

 

General Masaeron.

 

I didn’t know what to call him at the time other than a monster. He was bigger than any man I had ever seen before – bigger than anything I could imagine. He looked so smug as he stared down at your father, who was a large man in his own right.

 

Mandallian Giants, they call his people. Big. Green. Evil. I couldn’t think of anything in the world that could stop that monster, but as he approached your father he did not back down.

 

We climbed trees, scaled walls, or sat over the dead Hundarii to get a better view of what was to follow. I could feel Astra’s tension as your father stared down that monster of a man, for what daughter wouldn’t have been afraid? We all saw Old Decimus as our leader and we didn’t know how he would be able to defeat that thing.

 

General Masaeron charged your father. Your father charged right back at him. It was like seeing the moon fight the ocean – two forces of nature that couldn’t be stopped so long as they held to their element. General Masaeron was a powerful fighter – you know, the kind that looks to end a fight with a single blow. Your dad on the other hand was swift and used his training to land hits that may not have been as damaging, but added up.

 

Back and forth they went, man against man. We kept expecting to see Old Decimus fall in the middle of the field, but as he fought we felt that glimmer of hope returning. He should have been defeated in two minutes – in three minutes – in four! But he kept fighting. We started to count their engagements in rounds then. I had never before seen such determination or power in a fight. Your father would not give up, no matter how hard Masaeron hit him – and Masaeron would not stop swinging no matter how much your father withstood.

 

One round became three – three rounds became nine. By the sixteenth round we did not know how your father could keep moving, but he dug in deeper than ever and did just that. It was like the very land upon which he stood refused to let him fall and so he had to keep moving. For everything that Masaeron offered, your father had an answer.

 

There came a point when Masaeron realized the fight was not going his way. He threw a flash grenade at your father, but in doing so left himself open. I don’t know how he did it – I don’t know how your father was able to pull through it, but I’ll be damned if Old Decimus didn’t strike that filthy Hundarii bastard down. It must have been a blow that could shatter stone, because it brought Masaeron down like a rockslide.

 

And then there was silence. Then there was a pause. The Hundarii had placed all of their hopes in General Masaeron. To see him defeated was too much for them. One by one the Hundarii tanks began to pull away from our walls. They retreated back into the forest.

 

We cheered as they ran away. Astra ran out to your dad – we all did. It had taken everything he had to defeat that Hundarii bastard, but in the end he had won. They had taken many lives with them – shattered many families. Great men fell those eight, harrowing days.

 

But our clan did not fall.

Clan Daue did not fall.

 

And that, big sister, was the Siege.

Edited by Gestahlt
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  • 1 month later...

Damn you Geshalt! You rewrote it?!

 

Haha Welcome back man, I'm a fan but I never got to meet you, so hello. I was reading your original before they reset everything and locked me out. I left off finishing the "Siege" chapter. Which happens to be where you left off.

 

Well I'm sure re-reading will be worth it, i'm sure it's better now. Which is saying a lot cuz I was really enjoying it. Anyway, thanks for reposting, I was legitimately worried I would never be able to finish it.

Edited by eliholman
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