A Match for the Mandalore

Canderous

Jarxel arrived, with six honor guard in tow; Dax, Kelborn, Xarga, Tagren, Zuka, and, amazingly, Kex. I gave Jarxel a ‘what were you thinking’ look and he shrugged. I was going to have to talk to him. Jennet was pleased to see Dax. Dax, I noted, was pleased to see Mira. There were introductions, most of which were unnecessary, but no one but Dax had met Jennet. My men looked her over carefully, dubious looks on most of their faces, but they all bowed, giving her the respect of my Mate, even Kex. I gave them a look of approval, then took Jarxel aside.

“Why in the name of hell did you bring Kex?” I asked irritably. “He’s a bitter broken man who hates me.”

“He might hate that he can’t fight anymore, but he’s loyal to you,” Jarxel defended his choice. “He respects that you didn’t back down when he protested that you made him quartermaster. Moreover, he hated Cressa on sight and would love nothing better than to put a sword in her back.”

“All right.” I allowed. “I’ll give him a chance. But if he turns on us, it’s your head. And I’ll let Jennet take it.”

“Is she really that good?” Jarxel asked skeptically, glancing at her small form with Dax looming over her.

“She’s really that good,” I confirmed.

“I never thought I’d see the day you’d admit a woman could best you in battle,” Jarxel observed.

“Hell, my friend, anyone can be beat by the rawest recruit if they aren’t careful,” I said, grinning. “You know that. But when it comes to fighting, I’d bet on Jennet.”

“I suppose,” Jarxel agreed reluctantly. “But I can’t wait to see it.”

We rejoined the group, and both camps gathered around. We quickly brought them up to speed on my end of it, then turned to Jarxel.

“Report,” I ordered.

“As you know, the party arrived two days ago. We’ve constructed barracks for the guests, the Elders in one, the rest in the other. I’m afraid Cressa has moved in to your quarters; the Elders insisted.”

I gave a low growl, and Jennet narrowed her eyes.

Bitch.

Right with you, Wildcat.

“When Dax and his party arrived yesterday, they reported where you were and that you had found your Mate. The Elders were understandably skeptical, but after he had told them what he had seen between you, agreed that there was enough evidence to warrant testing,” Jarxel continued. He looked at Jennet. “Did you really go crazy when Dax gave you stim, and Mandalore got it out of you, drawing on your own abilities?”

At Jennet’s nod, he looked thoughtful. Without comment, he turned back to me, and continued his report.

“Cressa protested that she was your wife, and no outlander woman could claim Mate. The Elders are in favor of her, but are agreeing to test you and Jennet.”

I nodded, it was what I had expected. “What is Cressa’s proof?”

“She has a contract, with what seems to be your signature. She claims that you two got separated during a fight on Taris and she fled, thinking you were dead. She’s also very charming, and trying to win over the men.”

“I’ll just bet she is,” Jennet muttered under her breath. “And you called me a whore?”

“How long was she with the colony?” I asked, giving Jennet an amused look. She smiled reluctantly back.

“About a year. She spent most of it, as far as we can tell, ingratiating herself with the populace. She only claimed she was your wife when our party arrived and told them you had taken the helm of the Mandalore.”

“I wonder where she’s been before that,” I mused.

“Probably whoring with another Exchange boss,” Jennet said, just loud enough that she could be overheard, if anyone tried. I saw Kex grin briefly, then stifle it. Dax chuckled.

“Cyar’ika,” I admonished half-heartedly, “You’re not helping.”

Jennet gave me her best wide-eyed innocent look. “But I don’t want to help her,” she said sweetly.

Atton snorted; most everyone else, including my men, chuckled.

Disciple spoke up. “Will the Elders allow me to authenticate the contract?”

Jarxel looked dubious. “I don’t know. They don’t like jetti much, but they do allow that you are honorable foes.”

“Let me take care of that,” I said firmly. “The jetti are closer to extinction than we are now; it’s time to mend differences.”

There was a rumble among the honor guard, except Dax, and Jarxel looked amazed. “You would think of allying with the Republic?”

“I would think of survival, and rebuilding our race. We cannot win against the Republic, but we can be an asset to them, on our terms. There are still battles to be won.”

“As a puppet of the Republic?” Jarxel snarled.

“As an honored ally,” I shot back. “We would have honor and respect again, and a place. What do we have now, but a scattered populace, with most of us sunk in dishonor and petty thievery? I would change that, and make us a force to be reckoned with again. We can do it, with help, and the Republic is in a position now that they would take our help, with thanks.”

Jarxel thought about that for a while, then nodded slowly. “I suppose that makes sense. Convincing the Elders might be trickier.”

“Leave that to me, and Jennet, and our friends.”

“As you say, Mandalore,” Jarxel said.

“Now,” I said with satisfaction, “my plan.”

“About time,” Jennet muttered. She was irritated I hadn’t shared it with her yet. I just grinned at her, and she narrowed her eyes again.

“I’m not going to like this, am I?” She asked resignedly.

“Oh no, Wildcat, you’re going to love it,” I said confidently. “You’re going to get Cressa to challenge you.”

She brightened considerably. “Ohhhh, goody!” Then she paused. “How am I going to do that?”

“Just be yourself, cyar’ika. It won’t take long, trust me.”

We made our way through the jungle to a short distance from the entrance to my base camp. Just before we were in sight of it, I halted the party and Jarxel assembled the honor guard. He led, with three of the guard to each side. In between, Jennet and I were at the head of the party, Ladria and Atton behind us, Bao Dur and Visas following, Mira and Disciple bringing up the rear. We approached the entrance, and I saw a man detach himself from the guard, hurrying away, I assumed to alert the welcoming committee we had arrived. We were saluted by the guards, and marched our way into the main body of the camp.

We entered the camp to a buzz of voices. Everyone was assembled, the warriors lined up in ranks, the visitors grouped in front of them. Someone had even found a drum and was playing a welcoming cadence. As our party and the visitor’s approached each other, the beat stopped with a flourish. The crowd hushed; dead silence fell over the grounds. I spotted Cressa just behind the three Elders, dressed in armor as befitted a warrior. Her dark eyes sparked with malicious anticipation.

Jennet had seen her too. Her face didn’t change, but she stiffened ever so slightly. She had her hand on my arm, in formal escort posture. I felt it tighten a bit.

Well, she said honestly, I can’t fault your taste. She’s certainly beautiful.

So are Spice flowers, but they’re just as poisonous. Wait ‘til you get to know her, I answered with a growl.

Cressa was attractive, outwardly. Standing in stocking feet only about five centimeters shorter than me, she towered over Mira and Visas, both tall women. She was muscular, as most warriors are, but not unattractively so; she was still curvy where it counted. Her face was a little sharp for my tastes, but with high cheekbones, dusky skin, a pointed chin, and dark flashing eyes. Her hair was long, a dark sable brown, and tied back with a ribbon in an attempt to look innocent. I would have snorted, but held myself in check. Wouldn’t do to be antagonistic right away.

I glanced at my wildcat. She was looking cool and composed, her short blond curls framing her face in a soft halo, her lovely brown eyes veiled. I heard her compare her own heart-shaped face and fairness to Cressa’s exotic beauty.

Cyar’ika, I admonished, you are more beautiful by far.

You need your eyes checked, she answered grumpily, but I could hear she was pleased.

We were both in full armor, shined to parade ground perfection, and Jennet had her swords comfortably sheathed on either side of her. Her blaster was holstered low on her thigh. I had the helm of the Mandalore under my right arm, my blasters just so, sword sheathed on my back. The rest of our party were also armed and dressed in their battle best.

Jarxel barked attention, and the warriors snapped to, arms held in respectful salute. I returned it, and they returned to parade rest. The Elders approached, and I inclined my head respectfully. The lead Elder nodded back. He was at least a hundred years, but straight-backed and hale as a man forty years his junior. His face was barely lined; the only outward appearance of age was his hands, which were twisted and unable to grasp a sword or blaster properly, and his pure white hair. His gray eyes were sharp and penetrating. The others, a woman with dark hair only lightly streaked with white, and another man, completely gray haired but unbowed, looked equally hearty

“You are Canderous Ordo, the one who has claimed Mandalore?” The head Elder inquired.

“I am.”

He looked sharply at Jennet. “And this is the outlander woman you claim as Mate?” His voice was just short of scornful.

“I am his Mate,” Jennet said. “I am Jennet Jax, daughter of Draguel Jax and Miranne Organa.”

I started at that. Organa? As in the Onderon Organas? Cousins to the Queen of Onderon?

Unfortunately, yes. My mother was required to cut off family ties when she was taken as a Jedi. I’ve never bothered to reestablish contact, though. The Queen wouldn’t know me from a Lagarotz Dragon.

Interesting, was all I could think of to say.

“I am Elder Gregor Lund,” the head Elder said. “This is Elder Evana Farr, and Elder Drane Barta. We are glad to find more of our kin under your leadership. Your reputation is impressive.” Elder Gregor said graciously.

“I thank the Elders for their compliment,” I answered gravely.

“Yet,” Elder Gregor said with a frown, “it seems you will cast aside your wife, in favor of an outlander woman. This would be bad enough, but she has not even met your kin, or proven herself among us.”

“This is not entirely true,” I said calmly. “She has proven herself to at least six of our people, not including myself. This group of friends I traveled with, as well as Daxon Ondi and his companions, can testify to her worthiness as a warrior, and as my Mate. As to casting aside a wife, the only wife I have ever had is dead on Malachor V; I buried her and my four children myself.”

“How can you say that, Canderous?” Cressa stepped forward, standing close by the lead Elder. Her voice was low and musical, at its most persuasive. “I have the marriage contract here. You saved my life on Taris; I thought you were dead, or I would never have left you there.”

“I saved your life, true…by allowing you to leave instead of murdering our boss and your lover, or face your own treachery,” I said coldly. “Show me the contract, and I’ll prove it the lie it is.”

“This outlander woman has cast some sort of jetti spell on you, it’s obvious,” Cressa said smoothly. “I can forgive that. I only want us to be together, as we were meant to be. Surely you don’t want to rebuild our people with this…person,” her face showed her contempt.

“I want what is best for our people, yes,” I said. “Jennet is my Mate; there can be no better choice. She will bring honor and peace to our ranks.”

“Peace? See how she corrupts you? What Mandalorian would want peace?” Cressa said hotly. “We are a strong people, forged in iron and battle. She has made you soft.”

“I don’t think so,” Jennet said quietly. “I have found it takes more strength to maintain peace than war. I know what it is to glory in battle. Yet look what war for battle’s sake has brought your people - to the edge of extinction.”

I squeezed her hand warningly, and she subsided with a scornful look at Cressa.

“There is some truth in what Cressa says,” Elder Gregor said forcefully. “This outlander claims she knows battle, yet preaches peace. It is said she is jetti trained – the very foe that turned the war against us and destroyed our planet. You would foist our greatest enemy on your own people?”

“I would bow to our traditions and take as my wife my proven Mate,” I corrected. “Choose your tests; we can prove what we claim.”

“I am Jedi trained, yes,” Jennet interjected. “But I am more than that – both my parents were Jedi; they left the Order so they could marry. I myself am not, and at this time have no desire to be one. I want it clear who and what I am, least anyone feel I have been less than honorable. I am willing to submit a family history, in so far as I know it, if you so wish.”

There was a ripple of voices at her announcement. Some were nodding at her honesty, but none except the men escorting us looked pleased at her admission. I glanced over at Dax. He looked calm and unsurprised, as did the rest of the honor guard, and I realized she must have told them the full story, or at least enough of it for Dax not to feel betrayed in his trust of her. I silently thanked the Gods that Dax was a reasonable man.

Elder Gregor looked at Jennet, his eyes unreadable. She met his gaze unflinchingly. After a moment, he spoke.

“We appreciate honesty and courage; it seems you have both. However, your jetti ties do not help your case. I find it nearly impossible to believe that you would truly be the Mate of any Mandalorian.” He said in measured tones. “Most of what can prove you a Mate could be explained by jetti Force ability.”

“As I said, I am not a fully trained Jedi,” she said calmly. “It is true that Jedi can sometimes see the possibility of future events, sense each other, influence weaker minds, even talk to each other mentally if needed and high enough ability. It is difficult to discern the difference of Force manipulation and the bond of Mates.” She continued to look Elder Gregor in the eye, her face at its most respectful. “I would point out that Canderous is not Jedi. My ability to sense his thoughts and presence could not be because of my training. Nor could my ability to sense and use his battle ecstasy. It is also impossible for a Jedi to use the Force through a non-Force sensitive without another bond at work. I would suggest that Canderous submit to a metichloride test to prove he is not Force sensitive enough to be influencing my own abilities unconsciously.”

Her suggestion brought a gasp of indignation to the Mandalorians. To even in such a roundabout way that I might be Jedi material was shocking. I had to give her points for courage and creative thinking.

Ladria spoke for the first time, and stepped forward to bow to the Elders. “I am Ladria Windbreak, former General of the Republic, and Jedi.”

There was another rumble of recognition. No Mandalorian would be unaware of the person responsible for carrying out the destruction of Malachor V. Her utter calm in the face of the hostile camp was impressive. Ignoring the glowers around her, she continued.

“The war with your people ended fifteen years ago. I have many regrets about my part in it, especially the destruction of your home world, and the decimation of a proud race. To claim I was merely following orders would not be worthy of me, and an insult to you. I would submit that it was a difficult decision to carry out, and I have regretted every day since my role in it.”

She looked around the hostile faces, serene but authoritive. She stood straight-backed in front of Elder Gregor, her eyes boring in to his. “The Jedi are on the verge of extinction, the Republic is collapsing. There is a greater threat over all of us now. The mission the Mandalore has helped us with has stopped the worst of the damage, but the battle is far from over. Will you allow me to explain this threat?”

Elder Gregor looked her over, and nodded. “You were a worthy foe during the war. It could be said that our own arrogance brought on our destruction. We will hear you out.”

Ladria explained the mission, and the continuing threat of the Sith, projecting her voice so all could hear, yet seeming to only address the Elders. There was silence when she had finished. She allowed a moment to absorb the information, then addressed Elder Gregor again.

“Forgive me for my question, but how much outside contact have you and the refugees you lead had since the end of the war?” she asked quietly.

“Very little,” Elder Gregor admitted reluctantly. “We have been isolated, with only the occasional foray out for supplies and very few visitors, all of those accidental. We sent out parties regularly to try and find more of our people, but until three weeks ago were not able to locate any. Unfortunately, most of the ships we escaped our home world in were severely damaged in flight, and what we salvaged were not long-ranged. We had few technological supplies and fewer people trained well enough to build long-range transport or communications. It took us nearly five years to get to a point where we were beyond simple survival, the last ten have been spent trying to establish outside contact.”

“I understand,” Ladria said gravely. “If you can accept the word of one who once was your enemy, the five hundred in your care are unaware of what is happening elsewhere in the galaxy. I would gladly prove it in any way you deem appropriate; I understand if you cannot accept my story without proof. However, Mandalore has been out in the galaxy, and knows how dangerous this threat is. He chose to put aside differences for the greater good, and ultimately, the good of his people. I see this as an honorable act, and esteem him highly for it.”

There was a murmur of approval among the crowd.

Ladria continued, “I would hope that when the business of the Mandalore’s Mate is settled, we could continue discussions on how we could work together to neutralize this threat. The Mandoa are great warriors and would be welcomed as a worthy ally of the Republic. This would not be oppression of your people; it would be one power to another, united against a greater threat. There are still battles to be fought; we need all the help that can be found.”

The Elders looked skeptical, but impressed, if unwillingly, with Ladria’s dignity and authority. Elder Gregor looked at her contemplatively for a moment, then nodded shortly. “We will consider your request.”

“I thank you,” Ladria said with a small bow. Shifting gears, she said, “As to Jennet’s suggestion, I offer our services in the test. I can tell you that as a Jedi, I do not sense enough Force ability in Canderous to explain the bond he and Jennet share. I do not expect you to accept that at face value, and offer the test as a way to prove it.”

“The Elders will bear witness to this test, if it proves necessary.” Elder Evana spoke up.

“Of course,” Ladria answered.

“This is acceptable,” Elder Gregor said with a short nod. “However, there is still the matter of Cressa to be addressed. She claims to be wife to the Mandalore, it has not been proven otherwise.” He looked at me with a glower.

“She has not produced the contract,” I said implacably. “Let her show that, and it will be proved a lie.” I motioned Disciple forward. He strode to my side with a bow to the Elders.

“I am Disciple, Jedi and historian. I have spent my life in archives. I can authenticate any contract this woman produces,” he said with respectful authority.

The Elders studied Disciple a moment, then conferred among themselves. Elder Gregor came forward. “We agree. Cressa, give me the contract.”

Cressa handed it over, blank faced. Disciple took it almost gingerly, as if afraid of catching the malice of the woman it came from. He studied it a moment, his face absorbed. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a set of small tools. Grasping a computerized magnifier and strange looking stylus, he touched the paper with it in several places, peering through the small lens. Finally, he looked up, careful to keep his face calm, but with a gleam of triumph in his eyes.

“This contract is a fake,” he said decisively. “Look here, this should be a hologram; it’s cleverly done with laser engraving, but not a holo. The colors are slightly wrong as well, and the inscription here…” he pointed to one of the seals on the paper, “it’s correct, but if I use this stylus, it smears. It should not do that if it was engraved properly. This part was printed with ink, not engraved.”

He handed back the contract with a grave bow. The Elder looked nonplussed. After a moment, he turned sharply to Cressa.

“What say you to this?” he barked.

“Canderous gave this to me for safekeeping,” she said, convincing anger in her eyes. “He arranged the marriage; he tricked me.”

“Oh, give it up, bitch,” Jennet said irritably. “You’ve lost before you began. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

There was a short stunned silence, then Cressa turned to Jennet, fury on her face.
“You dare talk to me like that, you outlander whore?” she spat.

“What is it with you people and that word?” Jennet said, looking almost bored. “Look, sweetie, you made your play. It’s over, you lost. Now get your shit out of the Mandalore’s quarters and go back to whatever rock you crawled out from under. I’m done here.”

“You’re done? Do you think that my people will accept an outlander slut as the Mandalore’s wife? What chance do you have of being accepted by my people?” Cressa was dangerously calm. “Especially as you spent six months with two Mandalorian men, with no chaperon or witnesses? Oh, yes, Dax admitted it to the Elders; I was there. Do you think everyone will believe you were only partners?”

“Frankly, I don’t much care what anyone thinks. I care what Canderous believes, and he knows the truth, as does Dax. These are the facts: I am Canderous’s Mate. We can prove that. You are a lying, manipulative whore who slept with anyone that could be of use to you, and only wants to claim Canderous for the prestige he would give you. I see no honor in that.” She broke free of our formation, standing toe to toe with Cressa. The fact that she was a good head shorter did nothing to dispel her authority.

“I’ve had it with being judged by the fact I’m not one of you. That goes for you too,” she said fiercely, spinning to face the Elders. “I understand this is unprecedented and confusing; hell, it’s been confusing to me too. You think I’m just dying to live with a bunch of people that are suspicious of me because I’m not born one of them? Not likely,” she said, scowling.

“But I care what happens to you all, partly because Canderous cares, but also because I don’t like to see waste. You’re an honorable and strong people; you deserve to survive. I’ve liked what I’ve seen in Canderous, and Dax, and the others I’ve met so far. But even if you never accept me and I have to live with hate and fear and contempt, I’m still not leaving, because you are Canderous’s people, and where his is, I am.”

She turned back to Cressa, determination and authority in her stance. “So, bitch queen, get your crap out of my quarters, or I’ll get cranky.”

With that, she spun away, walked with considerable dignity away from the fascinated crowd, and headed into the interior of the camp.

“Mira, Visas, Dax, Kex, to me,” She called over her shoulder. Exchanging puzzled looks, they hurried to catch up. I followed, the entire assembly behind me. I could hear Atton trying desperately not to laugh. A glance over my shoulder caught a glimpse of Ladria, face serene as always, but a light of amusement in her eyes; Bao Dur was swallowing a grin. Disciple looked a little bewildered, but entertained. The rest of the honor guard were stone-faced but I could tell Jarxel was laughing inside.

All right, don’t let me look stupid here; which way is your quarters? Jennet called to me.

Over there, to the left, that door, I answered, giving her a mental picture. I had an idea what she was up to and had to bite back a blast of laughter. There’s a hidden room; I can guarantee Cressa’s found it. I gave her another mental image.

Thanks.

Her impromptu guard at her heels, she strode purposefully to the door of my private quarters.

“Mira, Visas, with me. You two,” pointing at Kex and Dax, “Make sure she doesn’t get in.” She jammed a thumb over her shoulder at Cressa. “I don’t mind if you have to get rough, but she might like it so try not to.”

Dax and Kex nodded respectfully, delight all over their faces. Kex even went so far as to smile. I hadn’t realized he knew how. “Yes, runi riduur Mandalore,” they said in unison.

Cressa wisely stayed put, glaring at both of them.

Jennet smiled brilliantly at them, nodded, and disappeared inside with Visas and Mira. Sounds of rummaging emerged, and a short crow of victory as I felt Jennet locate the hidden room. Shortly, the three women emerged, their arms overflowing with clothing, a few bags, and various female possessions. The three of them unceremoniously tossed everything out on to the grass at Cressa’s feet.

“My packing skills are a little rusty,” Jennet said brightly.

Cressa glowered, and in three long strides was nose to nose with my wildcat, face deadly calm.

“You insult a guest of the Mandalore,” she snarled. “Regardless of our dispute, you show poor manners and no knowledge of our ways.”

“There is no dispute; you made your play for power and were caught in a lie. It is you who insult the Mandalore, and his Mate,” Jennet said coolly. “As for being his guest, you were not invited here.”

She spun on her heel to leave. Cressa, her face contorted with rage, grabbed her arm. Without seeming to break stride, Jennet yanked herself free, grabbed Cressa’s wrist with her free hand, spun and swept Cressa’s legs out from under her. Before anyone could blink, she had her sword at Cressa’s throat. It was all I could do not to start cheering.

“Don’t touch me,” Jennet said in a deadly voice.

Cressa glared up at her, unable to move with the razor edge of Jennet’s blade at her throat. “You attack me?” she snarled. “Is this how you show your respect for a people you intend to rule?”

“As I recall, you grabbed me first, but I’m willing to give you a chance,” she moved her blade away, allowing Cressa to get up. “From what I understand of Mandalorian law, your action allowed me to defend myself; I had perfect right to kill you.”

“You’re twisting law to suit your own needs,” Cressa sneered.

“Wow. You certainly would know all about that, so you must be right,” Jennet said, smiling.

“What would you know of honor, or our laws?” Cressa spat. “I can give you a lesson in that; I challenge you, Jennet Jax. May you die by the laws you mock.”

“I was so hoping you’d say that,” Jennet said pleasantly.