A Match for the Mandalore

Jennet



We reached Canderous’s friends without incident, much to my relief. I’ve fought my way out of tough spots far more badly injured, but I never like having to fight with a headache. And this was a doozy. If it hadn’t been for my healing abilities, I would probably be in a coma right now. As it was, I was sure I had been concussed, and badly, when Canderous had hauled me out of the cantina. My head wouldn’t feel like a Bantha had stomped on it now, and I would never have remained unconscious so long otherwise.



I was feeling a bit apprehensive about all this. I didn’t really know who this big, craggy, growly-voiced guy was, beyond the name he had given me. If it’s even his real name, for that matter, although I was pretty sure it was. He was definitely left of center on the Light/Dark side struggle – I’d checked his aura as soon as I’d opened my eyes – But he wasn’t dark. He was actually on the light side, if not burning brightly, and there were red streaks in his aura that indicated some very, very bad things. But he seemed sincere, and if he really did have a ship that could get me out of here, I didn’t mind being flexible. And he had saved my life.



I also wanted to get to the ship quickly because of the promised kolto. It’s not as good a cure as my own internal healing, but it’s a lot more immediate and easier to explain. Canderous here might look like a big dumb thug, but he was smarter than he let on, and he most definitely was a warrior. He would know how long it takes to get over a big bump on the head without medical assistance. Luckily, he’d been too busy getting us the hell out of the cantina to notice just how big a dent was in my skull at the time. But if I didn’t get some kolto to cover my tracks fairly soon, I was going to have to start pretending to have a headache, and believe me, it’s harder than you think.



We entered the ship, me walking a few steps behind, holding my hand to my temple in a show of post-battle pain. As soon as I entered, I felt my spirits sink. Oh, fer shit’s sake, the place was riddled with Jedi. I counted six before I blocked myself entirely. What’s this guy doing here?



“Everyone, this is Jennet Jax. Found her in a cantina, kicking the ass of a platoon of mercenaries. She’s in a bit of a bind, and an incredible fighter. I brought her along, thought we could use her in this crusade of yours.”



I waved at the assembled crowd, moaning a little and clutching my head with a show of intense, not entirely feigned, pain. “Hi,” I managed a battle-weary tone. “Sorry to impose. Got any kolto?”



A huge blue Iridonian with kind eyes said, “Come here, we’ll get you patched up in no time,” and led me to the infirmary. He broke open a kolto pack, and I snatched it from him before he could touch me. I plastered it to the back of my head, and sighed in relief. The familiar tingling sensation prickled along my scalp, and I felt the bump, significantly smaller than when Canderous had seen it I was sure, begin to shrink, then disappear. The Iridonian, Bao Dur I think he said, handed me a couple of pills and a glass of water. I took those gratefully, and drained the glass thirstily. I groaned in satisfaction of one suddenly free from pain.



“Better?” Bao Dur asked, amusement in his eyes.



“Shit yeah.” The tingling had intensified to a low burn, then was gone. I tossed the used kolto pack back at him, and he caught it, smoothly dumping it into the incinerator in the same move. I smiled at him. “Thanks a lot.”



“No problem. Let’s get you properly introduced to the rest of us.” I followed him out to the main cabin, where there were seven people, including Canderous, and three droids crowded around. A woman in a red robe and a veil over her eyes unfolded a spare chair for me, and I sat, flashing her a smile. She smiled back warmly. With a small shock I realized she was blind. So how the hell did she know I had smiled? Well, maybe she didn’t and was just being friendly. I dismissed it, filing it away mentally for something to figure out later.



Then a gorgeous, poised woman with dark red hair and the straight-backed but relaxed stance that marked her as a warrior of considerable talent, spoke. “Welcome to the Ebon Hawk, Jennet. I’m afraid you’ve caught us at a …trying…time.” Her voice was honey running over a steel blade, but I could feel the burning brightness of her, even blocking as I was. I found myself wanting to follow that voice anywhere she lead. I internally shook off the feeling. She was not only a powerful Jedi, I was certain, but without a doubt the leader of this gang. “I’m Ladria Windbreak.



“This,” she indicated a tall, handsome, dark-haired man with deep brown eyes and a careless smile, “is Atton Rand, our pilot. You’ve met Bao Dur, engineer,” Even looking at him across the room, the Iridonian was big. Well over two meters tall, pale blue skin, four short horns spaced evenly over his skull, tribe tattoos peeking over the collar of his shirt, and the gentlest eyes I have ever seen. And a Jedi. Interesting. He smiled at me with genuine warmth. I smiled back, involuntarily charmed. There was some sort of probe hovering about a meter behind him. I’d noticed in the infirmary that it seemed to follow him around. “And Probe, his constant companion,” Ladria said. The little ball of metal beeped in a friendly sort of way. I nodded back and smiled.



“Mira Starr,” another redhead, lighter, bright as new copper. She smiled, a quick, tight, assessing expression. My eyes widened as I registered the name.



“Oh my Gods, really? The Mira Starr? Girl, you are such a legend around here! It’s an honor to meet you,” I said sincerely. Mira Starr was the most kick-ass bounty hunter on Nar Shadaa in decades. She didn’t look any older than me, but was much taller, standing only five or so centimeters shorter than Atton. She was slim but hard-bodied and definitely looked like she could handle anything.



“Likewise,” she answered rather shortly. She didn’t look any more welcoming, but at least wasn’t outright hostile.



“Visas Mar,” Ladria continued, and the red-robed beauty that had given me my chair bowed slightly. I inclined my head back, returning the respect given. She stood about Mira’s height and held herself like a queen. “And Disciple.” Wow, another looker, this one blond, not quite as tall as Atton. He was a bit of a puzzle. He had a strong body, burlier than Atton’s slim but well-muscled frame, but was not as barrel-chested and broad as Canderous. His stance and relaxed air of competence indicated he could handle himself in a fight, but he had the dreamy blue eyes of a scholar. He was standing closest to me, and made as if to take my hand. I stood to avoid it, and smiled brilliantly. He settled for a courtly bow, and murmured “Enchanted.”



I’d never heard anyone talk like that, and suppressed the urge to laugh. He was so dignified and proper, yet friendly as a stray Gizka. I couldn’t laugh at him, it would be, well, mean. I bowed solemnly back instead, and hoped he didn’t see my mouth twitching.



“You’ve obviously met Mandalore.” He stood, arms crossed, a surly look on his face. I wasn’t really surprised at it, and didn’t take offense. Most Mandalorians are uncomfortable around anyone but their own kind. Then it hit me – Mandalore? I looked up at him, astonished, and he shot me a fierce look, willing me to silence. I blanked my face, and gave him a minute nod. I saw his shoulders relax very slightly. Another thing to file away in my untidy mental datapad.



“This droid is HK-40,” I had noticed the assassin droid almost as soon as I boarded and was still puzzling why something like that was with these people. He obviously was an older model, and I hoped to Gods they kept him in check.



“Welcoming statement: You look like a capable meatbag. Inquiry: Does my master need me to kill her?”



Ladria sighed wearily. “No, HK-40, I order you not to harm her. Can you stop with the killing thing?” For the first time, this incredible woman seemed, well, normal.



“Resigned obedience: as you wish, Master. Hopeful inquiry: perhaps you might need me to kill her later? Proud statement: I could do so in various and efficient ways if you so require.”



I looked up at Canderous; his mouth was twitching. He seemed to find the droid hilarious. I grinned, and he started, then smiled back like he hadn’t meant to.



Ladria scowled and said firmly, “No, HK-40, you will not be required to kill our guest. Now shut up.”



“Resigned obedience: As you wish, Master.”



Ladria looked at me and said, “Sorry about him. We found him on board, and I had no idea what he was. I stupidly fixed him, partly to hone my repair skills, and well…he is an asset in battle, and hasn’t killed anyone I didn’t want him to. So far,” she said in resignation.



I gave her my best reassuring smile and said, “No problem.”



“This little guy is T3; he’s our maintenance droid,” more friendly beeps, “and Go-To.” I noticed she didn’t mention his function, and filed that away too. Go-To didn’t speak, or beep, and I decided not to acknowledge him either.



“So,” said Ladria, eyeing me kindly, “how can we help you?”



I took a deep breath, and recounted my story as I had told Canderous. I wasn’t sure at all I wanted to be among a pack of Jedi; I’d spent my whole life avoiding them. All but Canderous here were of the Order and I knew they would make me sooner or later. That’s why I avoided anyone touching me; it’s harder to shield if there’s physical contact. If I stayed, I’d have to come clean, and I was so used to keeping a low profile amongst the Force-sensitive that I wasn’t sure I was ready to stop. Plus, I would be damned if I let my parents down and became one myself.



I’m much too old, I reassured myself fiercely. They wouldn’t train me anyway. But what else would they do with a Jedi trained Force-sensitive, I wonder? Jennet, you’ve gotten yourself into a fine mess now.



“So…” I concluded, “Mandalore got me out, and brought me here. If you’re heading anywhere I can buy a ship, I’ll be out of your hair in no time. I can pay for my passage,” I added hastily.



Ladria looked at me thoughtfully, and the rest of the assembly seemed to be quietly watchful. Finally, she spoke. “I’m afraid we’re not heading anywhere useful to you,” she said, that honey-and-steel voice regretful.



I felt my hope of leaving this Godsforsaken planet deflate. “Well,” I said brightly, “Too bad. I did promise Mandalore a sparring session, though. You ready?” I looked over at him, and he nodded. “Thanks for the kolto,” I said generally. “It was great to meet you all. It’s – amazing – to find truly nice people in this shithole.”



There were murmurs of farewell and regret all around, and I made my way through the crowd, following Canderous to the cargo hold. Bao-Dur objected, claiming he had too many parts laying around here and in the garage for us to effectively spar.



“Would it be too dangerous for you to do this outside?” he asked in that soft voice.



“Nah, I’m pretty sure after the cantina thing there’s not many left that will try to bag me. Not today, at least.” I said.



Canderous and I headed toward the hatch, and to my horror everyone seemed to follow. I groaned inwardly. Shit, I’m going to have to throw the match. I better be good enough so he doesn’t catch me. But I knew in my heart I was screwed. No way I was going to display my Jedi training to these people; I’d be made before I could throw the first punch. But if I didn’t, I’d probably lose; Canderous was more than twice my mass and a likely a damn fine fighter, especially if he really was the Mandalore. He was quick too, astonishingly so for a man his size. I’d seen it in his movement and had gotten flashes from him as we had made our way to the ship. How the fuck am I going to pull this off?



We faced each other, and stretched. I decided to use basic Mandalorian hand-to-hand combat. I had been taught well, and it would be a mark of respect to Canderous to fight in his natural style. If I was lucky, he might be just arrogant enough to accept my defeat at face value. We slowly started circling, and watched each other carefully for an opening. He came at me fast, and I stepped aside, grabbing his arm and using his own momentum to flip him. He anticipated that, and had his feet under him, wrenching himself upright almost before I had let go his arm. His leg shot out, and I stepped closer, avoiding the leg and aiming a punch at his stomach, ready to spring back as soon as I connected, while at the same time bumping hard sideways with my hip to try and throw him off balance. They usually don’t expect that, but no, Canderous was on his toes. Before I hit flesh, he sharply heaved his body around, trying get a handhold, his foot attempting to tangle my ankles. I was almost shoved off my feet, but managed to hang on.



I used my gut punch instead for leverage, knowing I wouldn’t get in a good blow but needing to regain my center of gravity. I shoved hard off his abdomen, letting my body fly backwards, flinging my head back and pushing hard with my feet against the ground to propel me into a walkover, coming up fast and dropping back into a defensive crouch. Anyone else that might have at least partially knocked the wind out of; he looked almost bored. We exchanged moves for a while, assessing each other, and suddenly, I saw him do almost exactly what the merc at the cantina had done. Deliberately, he shoved at me, with his body held exactly the same as that idiot dead mercenary. It was an ungraceful move, completely unworthy of any Mandalorian. I knew what Canderous was doing; he was trying to trigger me into my fight mode. Ah shit, he wasn’t buying this at all.



Fine then: I’d give him some of what he was looking for. I grabbed the arm as I had done then, pulled it sharply forward and swept my foot behind his ankle. And it didn’t budge. His foot was immobile; I might as well kick a landing strut on a docked ship. The bastard had baited me, and I’d walked right in to it. Well, I was trying to lose, wasn’t I? He kicked backward, and my leg went wide. I hopped on my other leg, letting it follow the first, sliding to the ground and jackknifing my body around his legs, grabbing anything I could get my hands on and yanking. He fell, but not on top of me. I sprang at him, and he snagged me and rolled. Now it came down to strength and weight, and he had both. A brief struggle and a good show of squirming on my part, and he got me pinned down, his mass solidly keeping me pressed to the ground. Suddenly, one hand was at my throat, the other holding my wrists over my head in a crushing grip, and he looked furious.



“What the fuck is your game, kid?” he roared in my face. I looked at him as innocently as possible with his big hand squeezing my neck.



“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” I wheezed. I tried for a vanity play, what the hell. “Damn, you’re good, big guy.”



He was having none of it. Not taking his hand from my throat, he hauled me upright. Quick as thought, he picked me up, and dragged me by main force into the Ebon Hawk. The crowd behind us followed, fascinated, I’m sure. I was in deep shit, and I knew it.



He strode with quick angry steps to the main cabin, sat down with me firmly in his lap, and held me as tightly as any restraints. I struggled briefly, just to see if it would take him off guard, but unsurprisingly, I was stuck. He was an unmoving wall, and I was his prisoner.



“Now,” he growled, “You’re going to explain to me why you threw that fight.”