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cienie-isengardu · 2 years

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My RepCom Musing: Skirata and Vau (and Mird)

One of the things I love the most about the Republic Commando book series is how diamentrally changed the relationship between Kal and Walon (or at least, on Skirata’s part as Vau always seemed to me more steady in his approach to Kal? There is really a serious gap in what we know about them from books and from before Kamino).

We started Triple Zero with Skirata’s sentiment about Vau and Mird alongside the line of “I would kill them both wihout any regret”:

The smell hit Ordo long before he reached the meeting room. It was a familiar blend of wet wool, mold, and a pungent oily musk.

Skirata reacted visibly. He straightened his right arm by his side out of old, old habit and let the blade slide into his hand, fall a fraction until the handle touched his palm, and then snatched it

"Kal 'buir, it would be better if I shot it," Ordo said. He put a restraining hand on Skirata's arm. "I won't let it near you."

"I've often wondered if you're telepathic, son."

"I can smell the strill, you have your knife ready, and we're meeting Sergeant Vau. Telepathy isn't required to work that one out."

[...]

"If that thing's going to accompany you on jobs," said Skirata, "you'd better keep it under control, or find a use for a strill pelt."

He drew up his arm and flicked his wrist before even Ordo could react. The three-sided blade shaved past Mird and thudded into the polished pleekwood floor a pace ahead of it. The knife vibrated to a standstill.

Mird squealed, leaping sideways. Ordo stepped between Vau and Skirata ready to defend Kal'buir in yet another confrontation with the man he loathed.

But Skirata just turned to fix Vau with a stare that said he wasn't joking. Vau stared back, his long hard face suddenly a killer's again.

"It's not the strill's fault," Skirata said. He walked a few paces forward and pulled the knife from the floor. The strill backed away from him, lip curled back to reveal its fangs.

"But you have your warning, both of you. We need to get this job done, and that's the only reason I haven't gutted both of you already. Understood?"

"I've moved on," said Vau. "And it's time you did, before I end up having to kill you."

Despite the aminosy, both men managed to work together and even the book ended with something close to (temporarily) peace between them:

Vau squeezed into the seat in front of him and powered up the speeder. He reached behind him and passed Skirata a datapad. "Perrive's pad. Enjoy its contents at your leisure, net. vod. So, a drink or a fight? What's it to be?"

"Walon, you're very lucky I'm too tired." Skirata pocketed the datapad, another little treasure trove for his Null boys to play with. "I'd just slap you."

"I need to make my peace with Atin."

"He'll still kill you after he's had a good night's sleep."

"The brief unity of triumph, and then back to the fray. Crushing, isn't it? The victories seem so insignificant compared with the size of the war."

"Doesn't mean we shouldn't try," Skirata said. "It's only what individuals do that adds up to history."

"We've written ours, then."

It was one of the few times that Skirata found himself staring at Vau's back without feeling the urge to reach for his knife. "Tell you what," he said. He took out the disabled remote det from his pocket. "Why don't we swing by the diplomatic quarter and pick up that nice green speeder? Perrive's not going to need it now. Can you still hotwire a speeder?"

"You bet," said Vau.

Then we have True Colors in which Vau robbed a bank but due to circuments were left behind by Delta Squad (on his own order). Skirata did not have any idea that Vau risked his life for money to support Kal’s quest to save clone commandos from the Republic. Still he went out of his way to save a man he wasn’t truly close to.

"I think we need to change course," he said. "Go ahead, then, son."

"I mean we need to divert to do an extraction." Skirata sighed. Okay, they were on Republic time, and he was on Republic pay even if the clones weren't. It had better be our lads. I hate every second I spend on civilians. He trusted Ordo's assessment of necessity, and turned to go back to the cockpit. Ordo simply held out a crackling comlink.

"It's Delta," Ordo said. "They had to bang out of Mygeeto in a hurry, and Vau got left behind."

Skirata grabbed the comlink, all the bad blood between him and Vau forgotten. He motioned Ordo back to the cock-pit, mouthing do it at him.

"RC one-one-three-eight here, Sergeant." It was Boss. "Apologies for the interruption."

Skirata slid into the copilot's seat, trying not to imagine how badly things had gone if Vau had been stranded behind enemy lines. He was an escape artist. "Where are you?"

Then Kal and Ordo proceeded with difficult search for Vau:

"He's been out here for four hours, Kal'buir." Ordo activated his helmet's infrared filter, adjusted it to its most sensitive setting, and cast around on a square search of a twenty-meter grid. "If he's dead, I might still pick up a temperature differential, but it's unlikely."

Skirata paced the imaginary grid with slow, silent deliberation, sweeping a handheld scanner across the surface to locate holes and fissures, and then scanning for temperature changes. Ordo suddenly wondered if he'd been tactless, and that Kal'buir might be upset at the thought of Vau being dead. The two men had been at each other's throats ever since he could remember, but they also went back a long time, including all those years training clones on Kamino, erased from the galaxy and dead to all who knew them. "I'm sorry, Buir" he said.

"Don't be." Skirata checked a readout on his forearm plate. "I'm scanning for metals. This detects twenty meters down."

Skirata might have been genuinely unmoved, interested only in the proceeds of the robbery. For once Ordo couldn't tell, but he doubted it. Skirata felt everything on raw nerves. They paced slowly, leaning against the wind, and Skirata seemed to be cycling through his comlink frequencies because Ordo was picking up spikes on his system. Vau might have left a link open. It was worth trying.

[...]

"Don't laugh, son," Skirata said, "but I'm going to try something old-fashioned. Just like you talked your way past the picket."

He stood with his arms at his sides and yelled.

"Mird! Mird, you dribbling heap, can you hear me?" The wind was drowning out his voice. He clenched his fists and tried again. "Mird!"

Ordo joined in calling the stall's name. He almost expected to see a patrol closing in on them, but his helmet sensors showed nothing.

"Strills can stand cold," Skirata said, pausing to get his breath. "And they've got better hearing than humans. It was worth a try." He tapped his forearm controls, adjusting his helmet's voice projector to maximum. "Mird!"

How would they even hear the animal if it responded to their calls? Ordo was about to go back and start using the ship's sensor systems to probe deeper into the ice, but he heard Skirata say "Osi'kyr!" in surprise and when he turned, the snow was shaking. The thin crust broke. A gold-furred head pushed through like a hideously ugly seedling, a thick layer of white frost on its muzzle.

"Mird, I'll never curse you again," Skirata said, and knelt down to scoop away the chunks of ice. The animal whined pitifully. "Is he down there, Mird? Is Vau down there?" He hesitated and then rubbed the folds of loose skin on its muzzle. "Map the tunnel for me, Ord'ika."

[...]

Skirata broke out his ration pack. He never imagined he'd give Walon Vau his last energy blocks. Here he was, worrying about a chakaar who'd beat his men badly enough to put them in a medcenter, when he had his boys, Jusik, a pregnant Etain, and now Besany Wennen to fret over, and they all deserved his efforts a lot more than Vau.

[...]

Skirata had gone after Vau at least twice in his life fully intending to kill him. His instinct, funny thing that it was, now focused him totally on saving the man.

And finally, the turning point in their relationship:

"Drink this," Skirata said, lifting Vau's head with one hand and holding a beaker of the cube-sweetened hot water to his lips. Mird gave Skirata some grudging space but spread it-self down the length of Vau's frame. "Get it in your gut, Walon, or I'll have to heat your innards by shoving a blaster down your throat."

Vau coughed, splashing a fine spray of spit in Skirata's face. "I'm going ... to tell everyone . .. what a soft chakaar you are, Kal."

Well, his cognitive functions were just fine. No confused rambling there; Skirata ticked one more symptom off the first-aid list. "Can you feel any injuries?"

"Not yet... you look worse than me . .."

"Come on." Skirata slopped more liquid into his mouth. He felt wrecked now. "Get this down you."

"Tell Delta?"

"Okay, yes." Vau had a few saving graces: he knew his lads would be worried sick about him, and that they needed to know he'd been extracted. "Will do. Now what the shab was worth nearly freezing to death for?"

"What the shab," Vau said hoarsely, "was worth nearly... killing yourself... to save me?"

"I wanted your armor. Better environment seals than mine, obviously. You could survive a sarlacc in that."

Vau actually smiled. He didn't do that often. He had very even, white teeth that proved he'd had a healthy and well-fed early childhood. "Birgaan ... take a look inside ..."

Ordo's voice cut into the ship's comlink system. "I'm heading for the RV point, Kal'buir. I've informed General Jusik that Vau's inboard."

"Good lad," said Skirata.

"Good lad," Vau chorused. "How much did this sub cost you?"

"Shut up and drink."

Skirata waited until he'd forced three beakers of diluted energy cubes down Vau's throat before giving in to an animal curiosity that overrode every weary ache and pulled muscle. He untied the bundle. As the contents spilled across the med-bay deck, there was only one word he could spit out.

"Wayii!"

Vau made a coughing sound that might have been laugh-ter. He didn't get a lot of practice at that. Skirata was transfixed by the tide of valuables, so much so that his hands were shaking when he unfastened the backpack's assortment of pouches. What spilled out stifled any further comment. He knelt down on the deck, knowing his old ankle injury was screaming for a painkiller but far too engrossed in sorting through the booty to give it any time.

There was a lot here. A lot. Hundreds of thousands of credits' worth. He stretched out his hand and rummaged cautiously. No-millions.

Skirata started making a mental inventory almost without thinking about it. Old habits died hard.

When he glanced over his shoulder, Vau was watching him, eyes half open as if he was nodding off. Mird kept guard, snuffling occasionally.

"Except for the inside pocket," he said, "you can keep the lot."

"What do you mean, keep the lot?"

"I'm not a thief. I took what was rightfully mine. The rest is... a donation to your clone welfare fund."

"Walon," Skirata said quietly, "this is something like forty million creds, at least." Stunned or not, he could always com-pose himself enough to carry out a blisteringly accurate valuation. "You nearly died to get it. You sure about this? You're still in shock. You..."

"Sure."

"Sure?"

"Sure."

"You liberated it for the lads? Walon, that's..."

"I liberated it to cover my shebs," Vau said.

Skirata nodded, suddenly unable to meet Vau's eyes any longer. "Of course you did."

"If the only items missing ... are from the Vau deposit box, then it narrows down the suspects." Vau reached out for the beaker and managed to get it to his lips. He spilled a lot of it, but that was okay. He was recovering fast. "Just made it look like good old-fashioned random thieving."

"Your dad couldn't touch you even if he did work out that you'd come back."

It was clearly one admission too far for Vau. He was definitely embarrassed, not angry. "Look, Kal, when you were surviving on dead borrats and gravel and playing the working-class martyr, did nobody teach you how to steal like a professional?"

Vau usually didn't have to do much to get Skirata fighting mad: breathing was normally enough. This time Skirata simply knelt there with his chin lowered, struggling to find the right words to tell Vau he was moved by his generosity.

"Thanks," he said, fidgeting with a spectacular aurodium ingot. "Thanks, ner vod"

Ner vod. He'd never called Vau brother without a good dose of sarcasm. Forty million creds went a long way with Skirata.

"But remember my men, too, Kal. If they need help when the time comes ... I expect it to be given."

"Walon, this is for every clone who needs help. Not just my lads. I'd buy out all three million of them if I could."

"As long as we understand each other."

From on this point, Walon and Kal will work closely to find and capture Ko Sai and during that time Vau refused to abort mission even if anything bad is gonna happen:

Vau's voice was a whisper in the helmet comlinks. "All clear this end. Ordo's ETA is fifty minutes, Jusik's two hours."

"What's Delta's?"

"Five, maybe six."

On a mission like this, with so many unknowns, that lead might evaporate.

"Might lose our signal, Walon. The abort point is..."

"I don't do aborts, Kal. I'll wait here until the oxygen runs out. That's two months ... at least."

"I hope you brought a holozine to read, then...."

"Oh, I won't be bored. I'll be counting your proceeds from the robbery."

Vau always knew how to wind him up, but making it obvious was as close as the man could ever come to being friendly.

At this point there is a real change in how they interact, like yes, Vau still likes to wind Skirata up, but he is more openly friendly about that and Kal in return, is less irked by the jabs. Of course, Vau is still sarcastic and does reality checks with Kal almost all the time (being the one down to earth to Kal’s passionate nature), but whatever had differed them in the past didn't matter as much as it did in the previous book.

Their relationship became even more close during Order 66, as they had their holy mission to find a cure / give a freedom for clones. Interestingly, the book provided Scorch’s POV, when Kal and Walon together honored the dead soldiers on anniversary of Battle of Geonosis:

For as long as Scorch could remember, Skirata and Vau had been at loggerheads about everything from tactics and how to motivate troops to the color of the mess walls, sometimes to the point of fistfights. But the war seemed to have softened their outlook. There was no affection between them - not as far as Scorch could see - but something kept them together as brother warriors, tight and secret.

Neither of them needed to be here. Vau's bank raid-and they didn't talk about that, no sir-had probably netted millions. They were men with a mission, driven by something Scorch didn't quite understand.

The line: There was no affection between them - not as far as Scorch could see - but something kept them together as brother warriors, tight and secret is especially interesting because Kal was pretty close with Mij and Rav as far as we could see, yet it was Vau he spent most of time with through the whole book series. Arguing back and forth, doing illegal stuff, and even Vau playing the double-agent act for Jedi (something he told Skirata right away) did not strain the trust that kept them together:

For a moment, Skirata's natural suspicion tugged at his sleeve and said: Yeah, good idea, get all the gang in one place, and warn Vau so he can tip off Zey. Not knowing now who he could and could not trust got to Skirata in a way few things ever could. But that was their aruetyc game-divide and rule, sow distrust, set Mando against Mando by adding a little poisonous doubt to the mix.

If Vau's set me up, and this is some clever double-double game, then I'm going to take my time killing him.

The trouble with war-gaming double-cross scenarios like this was that there was no logical point at which to stop. It was layer upon layer, ft could drive you crazy. Skirata knew Vau all too well after being cooped up on a Force-forsaken stilt city on Kamino for years; if he was the double-crossing kind, it would be a first time for him. But... Skirata shook it off as best he could.

Mandalorians needed to learn to stick together, to look after one another and let the rest of the galaxy find its own fall guys to do the fighting and dying in their place.

"If you don't feel comfortable having me at this meeting, Kal, just say so." Vau squatted down to pet Mird who had finished inspecting the makeshift dock and trotted back to report with a series of grumbles and whines. "Just because I'm good at this slippery two-faced stuff doesn't mean I enjoy it, and if there's another unfortunate coincidence, I wouldn't want to be seen as the leak."

Skirata wasn't sure if he felt ashamed or amused at hearing his very thoughts laid bare, but the comment made his gut flip for an irrational moment either way. "How long have you been the only telepathic Mando, then?"

"Long practice, overfamiliarity, convergent thoughts..." "We've both known each other long enough to realize what the stakes are."

[...]

"How do you lie to a Jedi Master?" Laseema asked. "Without him sensing it, that is?"

"I didn't," said Vau. "I said I'd tell him if I found Kal doing anything to help the enemy. The minute that this little shabuire opens a comlink to any former Death Watch personnel, I shall gladly turn him in."

Skirata paused for a moment, then managed to laugh. "Do I know any?"

"No, but they're the only group I'd really call my enemy. So I didn't lie, and I was genuinely emotional enough for him to believe what his Force senses told him he wanted to believe."

Vau never had betrayed Skirata and vice versa and this trust really turned into something more than just an understanding or common goal. Skirata’s view of Vau changed dramatically, to the point he not only respected him for skills but even considered Vau as a member of family (while never forgetting Vau’s past brutality toward his trainees):

"I'm ready," Atin said. "We all are. Is Vau there?"

"Yeah ..." It was still thin ice, even if hostilities between the two men had been shelved for the duration. "Want to talk to him?"

"No, just tell him that the war's over between us. It really is. Back home, we start anew. Cin vhetin."

Vau heard anyway. Skirata put the link back in his belt.

"I only ever did it to make sure they survived, whatever happened," Vau said. "I'm not a sadistic man."

"Yeah." Skirata didn't want to restart that fight. But he knew he'd take his knife to Vau, just like old times, if he so much as raised his hand to those lads again, and yet somehow that coexisted with a respect and ... yes, affection. Vau was family, too. "I've got to catch up with the rest of my boys. Go keep an eye on the ladies. I'll even trust you with my grandson now."

"Oh, I'll build a nest, then," said Vau, and stepped off the quay onto the hull.

And then, once Palpatine issued Order 66 and Vau had his moment of raw clarity about Jango’s hidden goal. Kal for the first time probably understood how little he truly knew Vau and finally made a peace in an officially way with the man:

"Now do you see? Do you?" Vau hissed the sibilant like escaping steam. Mird cowered on the floor, whining softly. "I'm sick to death of your sentimental twaddle about Jango betraying us by letting Kamino use his genes. He did it to stop the Jedi. He did it to create an army strong enough to bring them down. You drone on about the injustice of unelected elites, my little working-class hero-well, now they're gone. Yes, it cost our boys' lives, but the Jedi are gone, gone, gone. And they won't be killing Mandalorians again, not for a long time. Maybe never."

Vau was white-faced and trembling. Then he seemed to shake himself out of whatever alien persona had taken hold of him, adjusted his collar, and tugged down the sleeves of his flight suit. He was the ice-cold patrician again. Skirata still couldn't summon up any love or guilt about Jango, but suddenly it made sense, and he knew in his guts that it had been about a lot more than five million creds.

I should have known. Why demand a son as part of the fee? Jango lost everyone he ever loved or cared about, time after lime.

And the Jedi had still killed him in the end. If Boba was anything like his father in more than looks, then he'd have a monstrous sense of vengeance boiling up in him now, and no Jedi to take it out on.

"You never told me what you got up to on Kamino in the time before the rest of the Cuy'val Dar showed up," Skirata said, trying to look as if he'd taken the outburst in stride. "So what else are you going to tell me?" Shab, they might not have been best buddies from birth, but they were as close as two Mando'ade could get. Vau owed him some honesty. "You were the galactic freestyle dancing champion, too?"

Vau didn't meet Skirata's eyes for a moment, but he glanced at Jusik. "I could have been at Galidraan, but I wasn't, and I never forgot that. Not my fight. Should have been my fight."

"And you could have been dead, now, too. Bard'ika, if you don't know-"

"Oh, I know what happened at Galidraan," Jusik said. "I know Jedi wiped out Jango's entire army." He paused. "And I know Jango killed Jedi with his bare hands, too, because I once talked to a Jedi who was there"

Vau nodded approvingly. "See, if you want to take out Jedi," he said, "only the likes of Jango could really do it. Only his clones, trained by him, and by men and women like him. That's why he knew it had to be done. He couldn't take them all down alone, but he knew an entire army of Jangos could."

Skirata thought of the abuse he'd heaped on Jango. He knew the man; he'd fought with him, in every sense of the word, and he'd also had comradely moments with him. The thought that he might have done him a disservice was one burden of guilt too many. He shut it out. If Jango had been playing the long game, Skirata had never caught a whiff of it. He knew it wasn't all about the credits. He'd seen Jango cradling Boba in the early days, and that man wanted a son as much as any man ever had. So Skirata hadn't looked for any motive beyond that. It was the only motive Skirata would have had.

"I stand corrected," said Skirata. How do I apologize? Where do I even start, with the osik I have to deal with now? "So I was wrong about Jango."

And now I know why Shysa wants Jango's legacy to live on at any cost.

Vau shrugged. "I let him down once." Vau would never shake off that feeling of having failed, the legacy of his vile father. He'd instilled it into his clones, despite himself. "But I never let him down again."

"Don't beat yourself up. I should have been at Galidraan, too."

"I know," said Vau. "That's why I chose you for the Cuy'val Dar."

Skirata grappled with the stomach-knotting realization that he really didn't know Vau half as well as he thought he did.

He chose me. Shab, he chose me.

"Okay, Walon, answer me this, will you? No osik. Did Jango want me on the team?"

"We discussed all personnel fully."

"Don't talk like some shabla administrator to me. Did he want me?"

Vau wavered for a moment. Outbursts and wavering in one night; it was all revelations. "You know Jango. He could get his downs on people, and then he'd see sense. Does it matter a shab now?"

"No, Walon, it doesn't." Skirata knew he was everything Vau said-thug, thief, killer, uncultured oaf, and way too emotional. But he knew how to fight-anything, anytime - and he knew how to love. It was as much a survival skill as using his blade or knowing how to construct a vheh'yaim for shelter in the field. That's the gift. That's what both my fathers taught me. He held out his hand to Vau. "Walon, whatever we've said or done to each other before this moment, it doesn't matter. Cm vhetin. A fresh field of snow."

Vau looked at him blankly for a moment. Maybe he knew how precariously Skirata balanced on the edge of his resources right then, but that craggy humorless face softened for a few telling seconds.

"Cin vhetin." Vau grasped Skirata's arm in a vise-like grip. "Mhi vode an, ner vod."

Vau seemed purged. He slapped his thigh plate, and Mird trotted after him into the galley.

At the end of Order 66, we can see how far Skirata’s view of Vau and their relationship in general has changed:

Vau turned to Mird. "Shovel," he said. "Fetch, Mird'ika. Shovel."

Mird wheeled around and raced toward the homestead. Skirata was glad he hadn't shot it. It was a remarkable creature, and there were few of them left. They were all in this together: clone deserters, ragtag civvies with nowhere else to run, disillusioned Jedi-and a strill.

"Do you think he knew, Kal?"

Skirata went on digging. Vau totally upended him when he showed his decent side, and made him ashamed of all the years they'd spent hating and fighting. "Who?"

"Sev. I never told him I was proud of him, and I was. Did he know I loved him every bit as much as you love your boys?"

Skirata knew that pain well. Did Etain know? Had he ever made up for the things he'd called her when she first told him she was pregnant?

"I know he did Walon," Skirata said. Vau had never had a father worthy of the name; all things considered he'd done his best to be one himself. "I know he does. He's missing. Missing men often get found. Our missing men will be found."

Vau nodded silent. He was the picture of regret, but whether that was for his relationship with his trainees or his life in general, Skirata had no idea, and thought it was a bad time to ask.

[...]

"What are you going to do with that?" Vau asked.

Skirata turned the toy over in his hands. "Give it back to Kad'ika when he's older, of course. In the meantime, it's comforting me. Crazy, isn't it? The hard old Mando merc and his cuddly toy."

He felt he'd done pretty well to get this far without breaking down again. He'd had enough of crying. It wore him out; it pounced on him when he least expected it. It was the kind of sobbing that was dry and painful, just convulsions in his chest and a terrible pain behind his eyes and in his throat.

Part of the ongoing pain was not being with Darman to comfort him. The poor kid didn't have the experience to deal with that kind of bereavement, even if he was with Niner.

Who am I kidding? I still can't deal with it, and I've been watching people I love die all my life.

Skirata struggled to get his breath. "I've got to go back for them. The longer we leave it, the harder it'll be for everyone. I can't even comm him now."

"I know," Vau said. "You'll understand why I need to go visit some Wookiees for a while, then. Study trees."

"Oh, I understand. Need any help?"

"If I know I can call on you, that's enough."

The three years of war changed Skirata’s perception and feelings about Vau in 180 degree and “I would happily kill Vau and his stinky strill” processed into this:

Skirata heard something rustle in the undergrowth. His first thought was that it was Mird, but the strill was with Vau, light-years away in the Kashyyyk sector looking for leads on Sev. After long years of hating Mird, Skirata now missed the animal, and much as it surprised him, he missed Walon Vau, too. He thought of all the times he'd drawn his knife on both of them, and bitterly regretted years spent on infighting when there were so many real enemies around.

And this is it. The strained comradeship turned into a very special bond that glued two so differently shaped Mandalorians into an almost inseparable team. And Kal is missing Vau - a man who is gonna argue back and forth with him and will not stand back nor fear his rage, who mercilessly is gonna call him out for every decision driven by sentiment, weakness and softness and who is as stubborn as Kal. This is a man that Kal trusts and whose opinion matters, as Vau is one of the few people Skirata constantly discusses what is going on and I think this speaks a lot about Skirata as a character but also about the weird, harsh and so permanent relationship between these two men. Mando bond at the best!

#star wars #kal skirata #walon vau #walon vau and kal skirata #mird #republic commando #My RepCom musing #with a lot of quotes sorry #long text #i have a lot issues with kal and the book narrative but for this one i'm grateful #to see the progression of kal and walon friendship #they are the golden duo #of the whole book series

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bylightofdawn · 8 months

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WIP Sunday aka guess who lied?

Well, my writing muses are back in the swing of things and I managed to write enough of a scene that doesn't contain too many spoilers.

Uh....context, two of Jaster's people disappeared down in the undercity tunnels tracking down Death Watch. One of them got kidnapped and now they're trying to track them down before it's too late.

Minor story spoilers and characters below the cut. As always it's rough as always. I'm also going to link to a choose your own adventure style poll I posted earlier today asking people how they would like to see the fate or our favorite traitorous Mandalorian Montross.

They all rendezvoused near the closest entrance to the underground warren of utility tunnels that Vau and Myles had disappeared into. A pair of armored CSF guardsmen were waiting there with the promised massiffs.

Jaster had brought a couple of articles of clothing that belonged to Myles as instructed and the guardsmen immediately presented them to the beasts so that they could get a really good whiff of his scent.

“We will cover more ground with two of them, this place can be a bit of a maze.” The Mirialan with dusty purple skin and startlingly bright green eyes explained as he pat his massiff affectionately on the head once the beast had gotten the scent.

“We have forwarded the most up to date holomaps to you; if you get separated or lost, it is wiser to stay in place and wait for rescue.” The near-human who was paired up with the other massiff informed them.

“Thank you, officers. If you’d just give me a moment to speak with my people?” Jaster asked politely as he tapped the side of his helmet to indicate to the gathered Mandalorians that he wanted them to activate their internal comms and as an added level of privacy, he slipped into Mando’a.

Yes, it was exclusionary, but there were certain orders he didn’t exactly want the CSF officers or the Jedi to overhear.

“Everyone knows their mission, we are trying to find our missing people but we are also not going to let Death Watch squirm their way out of this. Stun them if you can but if you only have a kill shot, you take it.”

“Why are we even bothering with non-lethals here?!” Kyr demanded hotly.

“Because we have outside witnesses here, but it’s also come to my attention that Death Watch’s recruitment tactics are more deprived than any of us ever assumed. They are prone to kidnapping the witnesses of their raids and brainwashing those children into following their doctrine.”

That news had a ripple of unease traveling through the gathered Mandalorians.

“I know to some of you, that might not matter, but it matters to me. I’m not saying all of these people are innocent; that’s why we need to figure out the difference which we can only do if they are still breathing.”

“Afterward, we will interview and examine the survivors and anyone we can prove has been kidnapped and brainwashed; we’ll try and get them the help they deserve and the rest can rot in some deep, dark hole in the ground to never be seen again for all I care. Either way, we’re not letting the Republic have a say in it and us not massacring everyone we meet will make that negotiation a little bit easier. Understood?”

He seemed to direct that last question toward Kyr in particular.

“Fine, let’s quit wasting time.” Realistically, Kyr knew that his man was probably dead but until he saw the body, he wanted to hope that they were still alive. And he wanted revenge against Death Watch and he was going to have it. Hang Jaster Mereel’s high-minded ideals, the only good Death Watch member was a dead one.

Thankfully for everyone involved, Jaster and Kyr were splitting up into two teams with the majority of Clan Ordo’s warriors going with their leader.

It took them twenty minutes to track down Walon Vau whose pace had slowed to a crawl courtesy of the blood loss. Arla was the one who ended up stumbling upon him and she cried out for Mij as she tugged the man out of a nook he’d shoved himself into.

“Came across a Death Watch patrol, I think we might be getting close.” Walon panted breathlessly when they set up a parameter around their wounded comrade. When Mij pulled his bucket off, the man’s face was pale and bloodless.

The gut shot was revealed soon enough and was bad enough to have the doctor cursing up a storm as he started an emergency IV to help restore some of the blood that had been lost with Walon’s stubborn traipsing through the tunnel system.

Normally, even a glancing blaster wound like this would have cauterized the wound site, but the man had apparently reopened the wound in the process.

“You’re an idiot, Walon Vau.” Arla hissed at the man as she doubled up his discarded utility belt only to hold it up to his mouth. “Bite down, we don’t want to announce we’re here with you singing like a shriek-hawk on their doorstep.”

Vau gave her a gimlet look but obediently bit down on the leather of the belt much to Mij’s visible disgust.

“We have drugs for that, you know.” Mij pointed out laconically and pushed some narcotics into the port of the IV he’d set in Vau’s ungloved hand. “If you want to suffer nobly, so be it.”

The wounded man glowered at him and Mij could see the moment the pain meds hit his system because the fierceness of that glare softened and his eyes went a little glazed over as his face went slack.

“Jaster, he needs surgery.”

“I know, can you move him safely?” He didn’t point out that if they were close enough to the Death Watch base that Walon had to hide from their patrols, they needed to get their wounded as far away from the front lines as possible.

“I can try recauterizing the worst of the bleeding and we could probably carry him out on a stretcher but that’s going to put us down two bodies.”

“That’s fine; we’ll take that chance. You return to us once you’ve handed him over to emergency services because we might need you later.” Jaster didn’t miss how Arla pushed some of the lank, sweaty hair back from Vau’s forehead with a surprising amount of gentleness he never expected.

The two of them had always seemed to have a bit of an adversarial relationship, but maybe he’d missed something.

“Alright, Arla? Kal? Hold him down; I don’t want him flopping around like a fish when I’ve got a cauterizer in his guts.”

Kal and Arla switched positions, with Kal bracing Walon’s shoulders down and pinioning his upper body while the woman practically knelt on the man’s thighs to keep his legs in place as Mij performed his field surgery as quickly as he possibly could.

The poor horrified Mirialan looked at the lot of them like they were savages.

#el writes #wip sunday #seeds for the future fic #fanfic snippets

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