Archive of Our Own

Jaster first registered that he was squeezing something, not managing to wrap his hand completely around it. He was laying down, definitely still sore. A thick arm, he was pretty sure, was what he was grabbing onto and trying to choke. From someone or something warm-blooded.

“Steady there,” a warm, full voice said.

Jaster managed to screw his eyes open to see someone above him. They looked plain human besides the patches of lemon yellow skin and silver sclera.

There was a small, likely bemused smile on their face.

“Well met, Jaster Mereel,” they greeted.

Jaster narrowed his eyes. It wasn’t an openly hostile greeting, but that didn't necessarily mean this person was safe.

“Well, perhaps not well met, considering how much I needed to use from the first aid kit to ensure you could wake up,” they added.

“And who is it that I have the honor of meeting in this not-entirely-well way?” he asked, not hiding how wary he was.

The person’s expression widened in some mild form of pleasant surprise in response to his not-quite-joke. They brought a hand behind him and sat him up before responding.

“Ghuts Fett, she. Head of my clan and the judicate for district seven here on Concord Dawn,” Ghuts Fett, apparently, explained.

“If you’re the judicate then saying you’re head is rather redundant, isn’t it? Or did Concord Dawn change its system when I wasn’t looking?” Jaster asked, the husk of his voice turning into a cough part way through.

Ghuts grabbed a cup of water from a small table as she laughed, offering it to him.

“No, we haven’t. Not everyone who makes an emergency trip here knows that though,” she affirmed.

“I’m afraid that while I’m familiar with how things are set up here, I’m not too familiar with the districts individually nowadays,” Jaster prodded.

Ghuts was showing him respect as another leader, treating them more or less equally. Her power was less than his but they were almost certainly in the seat of her power.

She probably wasn’t aligned with Death Watch, but if she was neutral enough, there were a number of scenarios where she would still turn him over to them. The True Mandalorians ignored places like Concord Dawn even beyond what their small scope had to, so they wouldn’t factor in, at least.

“My spouse is a journeyman,” Ghuts continued, apparently willing to listen to his request for information, “Ruusvail has gotten a bit busy since unwillingly becoming constable, but the area’s strong enough that he can watch over the farm for me during the flood season.”

Jaster nearly choked on his water at that.

“Ruusvail? Ruusvail’s a Fett now?” he couldn’t held but ask.

Ghuts’s smile was decisively impish – his old subordinate, always calm and serious, had apparently fallen for his opposite – with a mischievous gleam in her eye. “Mhm. He’s taken the kids into town to pick up some things. Arla’s a nosy little eight-year-old and Jango’s quite observant for a six-year-old, so we’re keeping them away from you until you can hide downstairs. They’re good kids, but kids aren’t tight-lipped,” she explained.

“I see,” Jaster said, processing.

Ruusvail had children now, and a new clan. And unless something insidious had happened, he himself was in the hands of allies.

“What of my commandos?” he asked.

“Left already. No one was as badly hurt as you but Death Watch was on your tail. The better off ones are playing bait while the others get your medics and a proper transport. I’d say they’ll retrieve you day after tomorrow.”

There was a window, further down the wall, letting in orange-red light. It was probably sunset, then.

“Thank you,” he said.

“Of course,” Ghuts replied, “no way I’d leave a man like you out at the mercy of those like Death Watch.”

“Is that the usual judicate stance around here?” Jaster asked.

“Well, most of us will openly point out that an agricultural planet like us does better when we can trade our food, instead of needing to tribute it to crusaders. But no one’s particularly involved until someone crashes into their district,” Ghuts said.

That was promising. Perhaps, if he got a bit more of a foothold in this part of Mando space, he could take build a relationship with Concord Dawn. Ambivalently favored was far from the worst sentiment he’d turned into a proper alliance.

There was a snort beside him, and then Ghuts was taking his now empty cup from his hand.

“You really are the big picture type like he said. Bit too much. Should have known he looked up to a worrier,” she continued.

“And what do you think I’m worrying too much over?”

The smile on her face was definitely amused now.

“You don’t have to worry this much over whether Concord Dawn is an ally or not. Especially not right now. Sentiment is worth more than your type is willing to plan for.”

“My apologies, perhaps I’ve been around too many mercenaries lately, been gone from here for too long,” Jaster said diplomatically, doing his best not to hesitate as he constructed his response.

Ghuts snorted again. “That will do for now.”

She took the cup across the room, putting it down into what Jaster assumed was a sink before walking back towards him.

“Now, are you feeling up to moving to the bunker now? Or do you want an hour of proper napping to get the energy for the trip?” she asked.

“Bunker?”

“It’s downstairs, of course,” Ghuts said, dodging the actual question he’d implied.

Jaster wanted to trust her, and there was more about her to trust than distrust, but he hadn’t survived and built up so much by avoiding paranoia. He could do with another vote of confidence.

He looked around the room, hoping for something to tilt his trust either way.

There was a screen in the corner to his right. A basic coms terminal. It had three screens, all showing multiple alerts. Ghuts didn’t say anything as he took a few long moments to read the words so far away.

Unauthorized atmospheric traversals. Breakage of Civil Neutrality Protocols. Activation of response protocols. Maps of recorded traversals and path. A new alert popped up, asking to be opened, about stay at home order progression.

“Death Watch is already here, huh?”

“Looks like it. Your commandos led a different group away, and then these ones showed up an hour ago. So I’d like to be able to truthfully tell these jerks that there’s no one but my family in my house,” Ghuts said.

“How badly damaged is my body?”

“According to the one field medic, if you don’t bend your torso until next week, you’ll live.”

He definitely needed to hide, in that case. Given the muffled pain he could feel that indicated a lot of pain medication, he would have trusted her even if he didn’t get the instinctive sense she was telling the truth.

“Let’s go, then,” he acquiesced.

Ghuts helped him off of the bed and through the house – a normal farm house by all means – to a closet near the back rooms. She leaned him against the wall before grabbing something low on the closet’s wall. A plank popped up. Ghuts tore it upwards to reveal an inset handle in the metal underneath. She lifted it up to reveal a staircase dropping into darkness, so steep it was closer to a ladder than most staircases.

A light flickered on, illuminating a story and a half drop, by Jaster’s estimation. At least the handrails went down all the way.

Ghuts helped him down the first few steps until he could grab the handrail.

It took a frustrating two minutes for him to make his way down the stairs, feeling his steps through the sensation of cotton balls, every other one making him feel like the was a stone statue on a watership.

He hit the bottom and let himself fall back against the wall of a narrow hallway with a grunt as he kept his body stiff and straight. Ghuts followed mere seconds later.

The hallway wasn’t really wide enough for two adults their size to be next to each other. Ghuts had to angle herself as she helped him down the hallway. It was still definitely faster than he’d be able to do on his own right now.

The hallway went on for a while, definitely enough that the bunker wasn’t under the house at all.

The duracrete around them was cool but surprisingly dry. It must have been thick.

After a few minutes of shuffling forward, they came to what was clearly the bunker.

A large room with two doors. Probably to supplies and a bathroom. The room they were in had cots, a mat with cushions around a table, a higher workbench type table, a rack of weapons, a kitchenette, and not much else.

It was significantly warmer.

“Six cots?”

Ghuts shrugged. “Our family, plus two extra.”

“That might be the only typically Concordian thing about this place,” Jaster commented, keeping his tone observant and neutral.

“Do you trust me?” Ghuts asked, looking him straight in the eye as they stopped their walk partway across the room, “the way you would trust your gut and get things right every time as a constable?”

So Ruusvail had even told her about that.

“Haven’t had any reason not to,” he replied after a moment, keeping his own gaze directed right at her.

Ghuts hummed, seeming to mull it over a moment before smiling slightly.

“Jango couldn’t stop screaming himself awake for a week straight last year, until we started planning this, after dreaming of black monsters finding and massacring us. After we were the only ones adequately prepared for a drought and earthquake in the district two years ago, after ignoring another set of dreams, we’ve learned to listen. Ruusvail has been more confident about it then me,” Ghuts said, expression steady in a way that Jaster knew meant she was watching every aspect of his reaction.

He wasn’t quite sure what he was showing though. It had been a while since he’d run into anyone else who could do something like him. Dealt with something like what he dealt with. And no one from his own culture had ever numbered among them.

“I think you should rest a bit more,” Ghuts said, voice gentler than before, drawing him out of his whirling mind.

“Right,” he agreed.

She got him down on a cot and left him with a glass of water and a comm.

Jaster waited for her steps to fade down the hallway before letting himself really relax into the mattress. He held onto the comm and just breathed for a few moments.

He’d left Concord Dawn in Ruusvail’s care after caring for his junior for years. And now here he was, back on Concord Dawn, in Ruusvail’s care. He wondered what the kara had in mind for them now as his eyes fell shut.

He opened his eyes with the awareness that there two more sets of eyes on him. He turned his head to the side to see a miniature version of his old subordinate being held close by an older blond child with a patch of yellow skin over their left eye, both of them watching him over the edge of the cot.

Jango and Arla, his mind figured out, reminding him of his situation.

“Hello,” he greeted, voice rasping.

“Alor!” a voice called in response.

The children startled, turning. Jaster looked with them across the room to see Ruusvail standing up and making his way across the room.

“How are you?” he asked as he drew near.

Ruusvail was certainly older than the last time Jaster had seen him, but he was still quite recognizable. His calm warm eyes still managed to shine despite the dull, dingy lighting, oddly timeless from Jaster’s memories.

Ruusvail grabbed a cup of water and helped him sit up, offering the drink to him. Jaster drank gratefully. Injury convalescence was always a dehydrating pain.

“Rather suspected I’d being seeing at most one of you when I woke up,” Jaster said, before Ruusvail could ask him how he was.

Ruusvail’s face flinched, just barely pinching in displeasure.

“We’re under siege. They saw you land around here and Ghuts had to use a slugthrower and flashbang to get away. They don’t know about the bunker but they know we’re all on Fett land,” he explained.

Jaster was glad he still remembered enough of the man before him to make out the displeasure under the calm tone.

“That Tor Vizsla is a piece of work,” Ghuts chimed in from across the room.

“You fought off Tor Vizsla with a slugthrower and a flashbang?” Jaster asked.

“Mhm,” Ghuts replied.

Jaster looked back over at Ruusvail.

“You found a good spouse,” he pointed out.

The corners of Ruusvail’s mouth turned up in a small smile. Jaster smiled back, more openly.

“It’s quite warm,” Jaster said after a moment. It was significantly warmer in the bunker than when he went to sleep, and he doubted the extra body heat could explain the difference.

“They’re burning the fields,” Ghuts told him with a growl.

Jaster couldn’t help but tear his gaze towards the sound of fabric suddenly shifting.

Jango was gripping the sheet of his cot, hands shaking from the force of the grip, looking down.

“It’s fine, Jan’ika. It’s fine,” Ruusvail murmured softly, drawing his child to himself, a comforting hand around the boy’s shoulders.

“But the fields’ still burnin’,” Jango said, muffled through his father’s clothes.

“And we’re not. That’s always the most important part, Jan’ika. We’re fine, okay?” Ruusvail reassured.

“For the next five days, at least,” the other child, Arla, chimed in, bright in the way that a sibling teasing another without realizing how inappropriate they were being could.

But, well, if they had five days of supplies then they really were fine. If his commandos were coming back within two days they’d certainly need less than three after that to beat back Death Watch and extract them.

“Arla,” Ghuts said, not a hint of reprimand in her voice but making Arla duck her head in pouting shame nevertheless.

Ruusvail lifted Jango into his arms as the child clung to him tighter, a small but light smile on his face.

Well, if Ruusvail was so unconcerned, then the bunker must really be safe enough to just wait out the siege for rescue.

Ruusvail and Ghuts wouldn’t let him actually work with his injuries. The only duties he was allowed was keeping the children company with games and stories and a bit of tutoring. It almost irked him from how little he could do physically, but he was usually paying more attention to feeling the awkward mix of embarrassment and warm pride at having the duty of watching the children. Most in Mando-adjacent cultures considered child-rearing fairly communal, certainly, but most – including the culture on Concord Dawn Jaster knew – kept with the idea that if a parent directly present they were in charge of the children. To let another behave as the primary caretaker when the parents were present usually implied a large degree of intimacy between the caretaker and family.

Jaster knew he didn’t have that relationship with the Fetts, and that this was a pragmatic decision from the extenuating circumstances, but the normal context couldn’t leave his head. Especially since he might have actually had such a relationship with them, in another life, one where he hadn’t been exiled and watched Ghuts court Ruusvail and have them get married and approve his subordinate’s parental leave, coming over to check on the new family and growing a relationship with them.

But that wasn’t the life he’d lived.

He’d been exiled for over a decade now. He and Ruusvail knew each other in dust trails they were only just refreshing. The others had perhaps known him through stories or not at all. He certainly wasn’t close enough to be teaching Arla arithmetic while her parents chose to go into the storage room to check and arrange supplies.

And yet, he was doing so. And making sure it didn’t show on his face.

He focused on the kids instead. Arla was very good at math, Jango did best with word problems. They tried to compete with each other a bit until they were distracted with the novelty of learning or a game again. It was, as children often were, fun, despite the circumstances outside their self-imposed confinement.

He was left at the table later that night when the children were put to bed though, having him do that would of course be far too much.

Ruusvail brought a bottle of tihaar out from the back room as Ghuts finished making sure both children would stay asleep.

“So, young one, how were my boots?” Jaster asked, harkening back to the last time they’d seen each other.

“The second I get a single competent subordinate with some experience, I’m retiring for at least a decade,” Ruusvail replied instantly, definitely having said this before.

Jaster laughed, keeping the sound as quiet as he could.

“Only a decade?”

“Duty’s duty. But duty’s best performed well-rested,” Ruusvail said, as though it were simple.

It was very like the man.

A hand wrapped around Ruusvail’s neck, trailing up to his jaw in a moment, tilting his head back so Ghuts could kiss her spouse.

Good to see that someone else could really appreciate that side of Ruusvail.

“Sabbac?” Ghuts asked him with a grin after lifting her face from the impromptu spousal affection.

Jaster nodded his head in agreement.

Ghuts produced a deck from a pocket and started shuffling as she sat down. Ruusvail poured her a glass as well.

“So,” Ghuts commented as she started dealing, “is it true that Ruusvail once got stuck in a bafa bean bin trying to keep up with you on a chase?”

Ruusvail groaned as Jaster tried to hide the reflexive grin breaking out on his face at the mention of the Buidin-Makko fraud case.

Then he thought better of it, and let the grin show as he gathered up his cards to launch into the story.

Jango was laying across his legs, fiddling over his last few math problems while Arla read a book on her pad across the room with Ghuts, already done, when a pocket started vibrating.

Jaster was reaching for his comm after only half a second.

The ID was for Mardruk. Jaster answered.

“Mand’alor,” she greeted him with.

“Mardruk. Report.”

Ghuts was already rushing across the room to help him sit up.

“Protracted battle. We’ve got sturdy lines across the Fett farmstead. We can continue the battle or retreat. Connection encrypted.”

“Do you have the house covered?”

“Where the house used to be? Yes. We have a line extending ten meters beyond the clearing where it was. Structure is over eighty-percent burnt.”

Ruusvail was already gathering the children and putting emergency packs on them, Ghuts was grabbing three more for them all.

“Underground. We’ll come up from where a closet in the back used to be if safe.”

“Back of house is very collapsed. Would take at least seven minutes to clear debris. Alternate routes available?”

Jaster looked over at Ghuts.

“Secondary exit goes to about the communal well we’re in charge of, to the south-west. We’d need to crawl, though. Drag you.”

“Do you have access to the communal well?”

“Negative. Give us seven minutes.”

“Takes three for us to reach primary exit.”

“Roger. Over.”

The line cut off and Ghuts was immediately lifting an arm over her shoulder, helping him up.

Ruusvail let them enter the hallway first, Arla wrapped around his back and holding Jango in front of him.

The corridor felt much shorter this time, with the extra urgency of finally getting back to his people and knowing there was a battle above them.

They reached the end of the corridor and Ghuts leaned him against the wall. Jaster knew he could stand on his now, but even after two days rest he was in no shape to run down hallways and found himself leaning quite heavily on the duracrete.

Ghuts climbed the ladder and unlocked the hatch before trying to open it. A wash of ash sprayed down, making Jaster screw his eyes shut. Ghuts started coughing as the door thudded completely closed again.

“They’re definitely not done yet,” she informed them horsely.

Jaster reached into his pocket and pulled out his comm.

It was down at 9% battery, annoyingly.

“Mardruk,” he called as soon as his line connected.

“Sorry, ‘Alor! We were ahead of schedule but these fuckers noticed and we need another two minutes with the extra hands going towards defense,” his aide explained.

“How’s the rest of the battlefield?”

“Uh- oh we’re apparently getting reinforcements. Brix and Leeoh’s units have driven their opponents away, so they can speed up retreat for us.”

“Roger. Over.”

Ghuts started tapping out the seconds with her foot, clearly keeping track for the last two minutes.

Jango whimpered behind them. Jaster looked over to see the child clinging to Ruusvail even harder.

Ruusvail started murmuring, saying it would be all right, they were all fine.

Right, Jango was stars-touched too.

Jaster felt like he should be comforting the kid with their commonality. But he was simply drawn to the truth, noticing lies where others couldn’t and picking the correct path when there was no way to tell. Stars-driven instincts he felt in his conscious daily life. Jango apparently dreamed and had to live with the memories.

“The stars haven’t abandoned us yet, little one,” he decided to say. Jango looked at him out of the side of one eye, still clinging to Ruusvail. “That’s how we all got here together, with safety a few meters away, remember?”

He certainly couldn’t feel anything wrong with Ghuts waiting for his commandos. They were almost out of the situation.

Jango bit his lip.

Another spray of ash fell down on them with a groan, followed by a crash.

“Small warnings go a long way,” Ruusvail pointed out as he coughed through the cloud swirling around them.

Jaster was already grabbing onto the handrails and pulling himself up as straight-backed as he could be when Ghuts called down, “tell it to Death Watch.”

Ghuts grabbed his arm as he approached the top, taking half his weight to make the last steps twice as fast. A gloved hand grabbed him next, directing him away from the hatch as Ghuts stayed behind to collect her children.

“’Alor, we’ve got a shuttle. We’re doing good above planet, so once we’re all loaded we can get out of here. Death Watch won’t be able to keep up. Most of their forces are down here,” Mardruk yelled over the sounds of battle.

“Good, let’s go,” he yelled back.

There was indeed a shuttle in the clearing outside the burnt remains of the house. Jaster let himself be led up the ramp until he could grab a handle on the side of the doors. Mardruk left him to run back into the battlefield as he turned around.

Three other commandos were almost at the shuttle with the Fetts. The one painted gold was definitely Pil. The one in brown and green might have been Silvern or Freem and the one in various grays could have been any of the Viklums. It was too hard to tell in the chaos of battle.

Ghuts got to the shuttle first, quickly turning around to wait for the others. Freem was next, followed by Ruusvail and the children. A black figure rose from the smoking field just as they got everyone on the ramp.

Ghuts pulled out a cut-off slugthrower from her back, where Jaster hadn’t even known she’d stashed one, and held it up, hands steady.

The Death Watcher was flying closer. They drew a hand from their side ahead of themself.

Ghuts didn’t wait and shot.

The enemy didn’t go down, of course, not with proper armor against metal. But unlike a blast, a slug had weight. Jaster could actually see a bit of dent in their helmet as they involuntarily turned in the air.

The few seconds they needed to right themselves and regain altitude was more than enough for the rest of the Fetts and his commandos to get up into the shuttle proper and start shooting at them.

Freem grabbed him away from the doors and half-dragged him to a bench with netting. The shuttle took off as the doors began to close.

Ghuts walked alongside the bench on the other side of the bay to get to her family at the back wall. She immediately stooped over once she reached them, practically trapping her children with her as a barrier from the farmstead battlefield they were leaving behind as she grabbed the netting behind them and drew them into a hug.

Ruusvail bent over to complete his spouse’s embrace, wrapping the family neatly in a completed encampment against the wall.

A torso appeared in Jaster’s view, blocking the sight.

“Mand’alor,” a voice said.

Jaster looked up to confirm it was Kigo Viklum in front of him, holding his kute and armor set, neatly folded with the helmet on top.

He had been a little worried it had been lost in the shuffle. Jaster took it from Kigo, letting xem see a satisfied, promising smile grow on his face.

Jaster rolled his neck and shook out his hand before knocking on the door.

It opened a moment later.

“Ruusvail,” Jaster greeted.

“Mand’alor,” he greeted back with a respectfully nodding head.

Ah. Jaster should have seen that coming.

He shouldn’t have come in his armor.

“May I come in?” he asked.

“Of course,” Ruusvail agreed, stepping back from the door.

Ghuts was looking over the children laid in one of the bunkbeds.

“My apologies for the lack of beds,” he said.

Two cots really wasn’t enough for a family of four. But there wasn’t much more room in the main communal quarters. It would have to do until they made it Krownest tomorrow.

“We’re unexpected guests, you’ve done more than enough,” Ghuts dismissed.

“Still,” Jaster said, taking the further seat as Ruusvail sat on the chair closer to his family, “it is because of me and my conflict that you are without home for now. We will take care of you until you can be housed again, Judicate Fett.”

“Is that a suggestion that we move on from Concord Dawn?” Ghuts asked, a bit of steel in her voice.

“If you’d like. It would be shorter. But there’s more than a few that have responded to Death Watch’s method of chasing me by answering my call. We will honor that response and routing Death Watch out from Concord Dawn,” Jaster promised.

“I’m District Seven’s judicate,” Ghuts answered.

“And Barklo is still too green to be constable for another three years, at least,” Ruusvail added.

Jaster nodded in recognition of their decision.

“We’re leaving a vanguard to keep pressure up on Death Watch. Then the rest of who’s available is regrouping on Krownest. We’ll plan and likely launch the counter attack there. Once we’ve driven them off you’ll be able to return home.”

“Local knowledge is usually key to this sort of thing,” Ghuts pointed out.

“I’m still a Concordian local,” Jaster pointed back.

“Number of roads have changed since you left, though. Couple of landslides too,” Ruusvail countered.

“You have children.”

They did actually pause at that, for a fraction of a second.

“It’s our children’s home too. The least we can do is help the fight to take back what’s been taken from our children. Even if that’s not by being on a direct battlefield,” Ghuts said.

There was stubborn lively fire running through her spine up to her eyes. A matching, glacial pressure was in Ruusvail’s.

They’d make good Mandalorians, Jaster couldn’t help but think.

“Then you may join the cause, if you wish.”

“Clan Fett will help you will take back and keep Concord Dawn, Mand’alor,” Ghuts answered, a sharp, satisfied smile on her face as she declared political alliance.

It really did look like the planet wouldn’t be staying out of the civil war anymore.

“See you,” Jaster said as he split from Mardruck and Kigo after getting his food, giving them a small nod goodbye.

They’d stopped eating dinner together months ago, after Kigo’s sister had gotten fed up with them working through every meal. That had worked better than their multiple promises to each other to stop working when they weren’t supposed to.

If there wasn’t an emergency that made them have dinner while having a meeting, they weren’t allowed to have a meeting during dinner.

Jaster glanced around the base’s main cafeteria, spotting the Fetts after a few moments.

Ruusvail and Ghut’s plates were only half-finished as they focused on feeding their children, Jaster noted as he drew near.

“May I join you?” he asked as reached the table.

Ruusvail was spreading sauce on the small protein ration bar in a bid to get Jango to eat it.

“If you’d like,” Ghuts answered him, merely side-eying the slow way Arla was eating.

“How have you all been settling in?” he asked.

“Well enough, though we can leave whenever needed,” Ghuts replied easily before chomping on her bread.

“We’ll leave in a week or so, as far as we can tell. But if the others run into trouble on their way here we may delay.”

Jaster took the bottle of tihaar on his tray he’d brought with him to the cafeteria and put it in the middle of the table.

“Long day?” Ruusvail asked from beside him, before Ghuts could say what she’d opened her mouth to say.

“Not too long.”

“Would have been Gharkhin tihaar, if that were the case,” Ruusvail agreed.

Ghuts closed her mouth as a considering look came over her face.

Arla slurped up the last of her soup loudly before putting her head just above the table, looking at her brother intently.

Jango was slowly but determinately chewing through the last of his ration bar. And he still had a bit of soup to finish.

“Did you take the kids out?”

The compound was fairly secure, with a good amount of snow around it to play in.

“Yep. There were a few snowball fights.”

Jango started slurping the last of his soup. Arla didn’t wait for him to finish before leaving her seat, circling around the table to stalk behind her brother. As soon he finished, she pounced, grabbing Jango’s arm.

“Come on, Jan’ika. Captain Kule,” she said with the whining but bossy voice some young children could use.

Jango grabbed his napkin and shoved it over his face as his sister dragged him off the bench, managing to get it back onto his tray before they were too far away.

Jaster watched them dart off out of the cafeteria, commandos easily dodging them with more than one sign of amusement.

“So who won the snowball fights?” he asked.

“The snow, of course,” Ruusvail answered.

Jaster let out a small laugh at that. Ghuts smiled, sharp and proud and definitely entertained as she launched into a tale of the children’s adventures of the day.

“Come in,” said a voice, unexpectedly young and sniffly.

Jaster opened the door to the Fetts’ temporary quarters.

Jango was sitting in one of the beds, blankets wrapped around him like tent turned into a poncho.

“Where’s your family, Jan’ika?” Jaster asked softly, closing the door behind him as he stepped into the room.

“Arla got mad so dad took her outside. Mom went to get you, told me to stay.”

Ghuts had left her child behind to go get him? There was a very short list of reasons for her to do that which made sense.

“What happened?”

“Dream,” Jango said, burying his face down into his little fortress of blankets, confirming Jaster’s suspicion.

Jaster took out his comm and shot Ghuts a message saying he was waiting for her in the room. Once it had loaded, he put the comm back in his pocket on vibrate and crossed the room.

“Do you want to talk about your dream?”

“No,” Jango said, voice almost petulant as he raised just his eyes out of the blankets’ safety, “it was scary.”

“Okay. Do you want me to stay here until your parents come back?”

Jango’s brow furrowed and the child didn’t answer for a few moments.

“Dad said you were like me.”

“I’m a little stars-touched as well, yes,” Jaster agreed. He wasn’t exactly like Jango, and probably not in most of the ways Jango was looking for.

“Does it help to have people with you?” Jango asked before ducking his head back into the blankets fully.

“That… doesn’t depend on being stars-touched. It’s upsetting, right? It upsets everyone like us sometimes, when others wouldn’t be upset. Like most people, I like to have company when I’m upset though.” Which was a bit of a lie, but Jango couldn’t tell lies like him so it should be fine to leave his own preferences regarding people for another time.

Children were more likely to need comfort from others even if they were or would grow into the sort of people who didn’t like much company when upset.

“Dad holds me from behind until I go back to sleep,” Jango said.

“Would you like me to hold you until he gets back?” Jaster asked.

The blankets moved in such a way that Jaster could tell Jango was nodding. He took off his boots and climbed behind Jango on the cot.

He drew the child in as much as possible, trying to get a good grip around the girth of the blankets without squeezing Jango too much. Hopefully this was the sort of thing Ruusvail did for Jango.

A part of the blanket moved up a little, like Jango was trying to grab at his arms.

“What do you do with your nightmares?” Jango asked.

“The stars don’t speak to me in my sleep. When I’m awake they whisper if things are right,” Jaster explained.

“Oh,” Jango said, sounding crestfallen, “that seems better than dreams.”

“It has its own drawbacks. I spent much of my childhood learning to deal with them.” or dealing with the consequences of them, rather. Seven-year-olds had to face a lot of consequences against scamming trade conglomerates when they didn’t have enough proof for the law to make an arrest, even after public denouncements.

“I don’t think I can learn though,” Jango said, voice almost apathetic with its resignation.

“You will. It will all be fine,” Jaster promised. He was pretty sure at this age Jango needed more certainties than conditional-filled nuanced discussions.

Jango was silent.

“And until you do, your parents will be there for you, okay?”

“I know,” Jango said, a little petulance managing to break through the exhaustion in the child’s voice.

Jaster readjusted his hold over the pile covering Jango, settling in more.

“Unless they die. They were supposed to,” Jango said half a minute later.

It took Jaster a moment to connect the dots and pick a way to respond to that.

“But they’re alive. Because of you. And they’ll stay alive.”

“Are you going to stay alive?” Jango asked.

That was a trap, somehow. Even without the stars whispering about how loaded the question was, Jaster was pretty sure he would have been able to tell from Jango’s tone alone.

Had Jango seen him die in a dream?

“I always take as many actions as I can to keep myself alive,” he answered, technically truthfully. He put himself in many situations and positions where his survival wasn’t guaranteed, but he did then maximize his chances of survival once he assured his goals were met.

“You should keep people closer then, when you get older,” Jango said.

So he’d died in a dream when he was visibly older and alone, to some degree. He filed the knowledge away.

“Of course, that can be very useful for staying alive,” Jaster agreed.

The not-actually-a-grip around his arm tightened.

“Things are really dry and cold when the blond man takes over,” Jango added, voice pitching almost like a whisper.

“Okay,” Jaster agreed.

“And the throne room is too wide. Too many lights needed.”

“Okay.”

“And droids are too easily hacked.”

“Okay.”

“I don’t like a step around the room. A lot of people die in those sorts of rooms.”

“Okay,” Jaster said again, this time with a bit of a smile. It sounded like Jango was talking about his dreams more broadly now, not just the one that had upset him so much tonight.

“Don’t die, people will be sad. Mom and dad will be too.”

“I won’t,” Jaster promised.

“Can you-” Jango started, before the door flew open with a manual pull.

There was Ghuts, in the disheveled but straight-backed glory of a parent who’d rushed across a compound in under five minutes.

“Hello,” Jaster greeted.

“Hello,” Ghuts responded, voice calm underneath the panting.

“Jango and I have been talking,” Jaster said.

“Is that so? Did you enjoy your talk, Jan’ika?” Ghuts asked as she crossed the room, voice already soft for her child.

The blankets shifted as Jango moved to show a bit of his face.

“I guess.”

“Do you want to go back to sleep now? Or stay up a little more?” Ghuts continued.

“… I want to sleep with Arla,” Jango said after a moment.

“Alright, she’ll be back soon,” Ghuts reassured Jango, slipping onto the cot herself.

Jaster was going to slip out to let her replace him, but Ghuts instead wrapped an arm over his, hugging Jango from a different spot. She gave him a look that sent a clear message that he shouldn’t move until the other two Fetts were back.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“Does Jaster have a fever?” Jango asked in a way that the child clearly thought was secretive.

That got a smile on Ghuts’s face. Jaster could feel an amused one grow on his own.

“No dear, he’s a quarter togruta, he’s supposed to be warm,” Ghuts explained.

“Oh,” Jango replied, still trying to be secretive, “it feels nice.”

They both did their best to not make noise and silently laugh at how cute a child could be.

Ghuts started humming a tune. It was one Jaster didn’t know.

Almost two minutes later, the door slid open, calm and programmed.

Ruusvail and Arla were back.

“Oh,” was all Ruusvail said.

“Why’s he here?” Arla asked, tone pure confused curiosity.

“Just to talk,” Jaster answered when it looked like Ruusvail and Ghuts were going to mull over how to answer for a few seconds.

“Oh, okay. Mom, can I sleep with Jango tonight?” Arla continued, apparently satisfied and ready to move on.

“Since you both want to,” Ghuts said, unwrapping herself and getting out of the cot, tugging Jaster’s arm instead of letting it go.

Arla quickly took off her coat and shoes as he slowly untangled himself and climbed out of the cot as well.

She almost dived onto the cot, prying herself into Jango’s tent and rearranging them until there were two squirming lumps under what looked more like covers. Ruusvail turned off the last lamp, leaving only a nightlight, as the two lumps almost merged and stilled.

“Thank you.” Ghuts more mouthed than whispered the words.

“Of course,” Jaster mouthed back.

Ruusvail walked across the room to them, keeping half an eye on the children. He opened his mouth to speak when Jaster’s pocket started to buzz.

Jaster took out his comm and checked the message.

“You two still intend to join us on our Concord Dawn operation?” he asked, looking up at them.

The somewhat relaxed, warm faces in front of him hardened within a second.

“Of course,” Ghuts said without hesitation.

Jaster nodded. “Good. The last group we were waiting for has met up with the blockade we set up. We’ll be moving out tomorrow. You should rest now.”

“Of course. We’ll be ready as soon as,” Ruusvail said, “you should rest as well.”

“I’ll take a nap in a few hours,” Jaster replied, knowing better than to not satisfy Ruusvail’s implied concern.

“Then we won’t cut into your rest and let you go,” Ghuts insisted, “Good night, Jaster.”

“Good night.”

“And thank you,” Ghuts added, voice soft, as Jaster began to turn around.

Jaster paused for a split-second, registering the equally soft smile on Ruusvail’s face – the only one even partially visible in the low light – before nodding in acknowledgement and making his way out of the room.

The Fetts really were a proper clan.

“ Where are they running to?” Jaster asked, barking out a demand, really, as he charged into the coordination center at the back of the bridge.

Kriffing Death Watch jostling his old shoulder. He hated being placed up for battles.

“ They’re likely to go for district nine along the Nig Run Road or along Purik Creek across the district . Unless they decide not to chance unfamiliar roads and scatter in the fields, ‘Alor,” Ruusvail called back from the “local advisor” section they’d made for the Fetts.

“What about Shiv Pass? Isn’t that also an option?” Jaster asked.

“Rockslide two years ago. Road’s still out and signage is good enough any newcomers know to avoid it,” Ghuts explained.

“’Alor, new update,” Shina Viklum called.

Jaster turned towards her terminal on the other side of the ring in time to see Silvern show up on the screen.

“ Silvern,” Jaster greeted.

“’Alor,” Silvern responded immediately, promptly going into a report, “we’ve spotted about two thirds of their forces in district eight going along a side road, and the remaining third have scattered. There’s a map with updated coordinates.”

The file had already finished uploading. Jaster pulled it up on the main strategy table.

Ruusvail was already there to confirm.

“They’re going for Purik Creek. Do you have anyone north of Pulser Village?”

Jaster switched the view to add their forces in green dots.

“Here,” Ruusvail said, pointing a little south west of one squad, “this is young Baro’s farm. There’s an entrance to a flood culvert that empties out into Purik Creek. Built it five years ago and it gets cleaned out thrice a year.”

“Shina,” Jaster said.

“Understood,” she replied.

“I’ll call young Baro,” Ghuts said, already turning back to her comm terminal, “get ‘em to meet them outside.”

“The tuber stand routine?” Ruusvail asked.

“The tuber stand routine,” Ghuts confirmed.

Well, if that was anything like old Baro’s corn stand routine, things should be fine. Especially if young Baro was anywhere near as stubborn as old Baro, with the family’s traditional anti-razing grudges.

It was very impressive, though, Jaster had to note as young Baro’s picked up the comm call, just how many people Ghuts had memorized. Just all the other judicates and prominent aides would have been enough. Jaster was fairly certain now that she knew the comm codes for half the people in her region.

Jaster saw Shina looking back at him with a questioning look. He waved his hand to motion it was fine. If she wanted a detailed explanation of the local play-by-play, they could do it later.

“Silvern,” Jaster called as he continued looking at the map.

“Yes, ‘Alor,” Silvern answered.

“Send Dorn Squad to these coordinates ASAP for the culvert route. They’re the vanguard, muck up the wheels. Have Besh Squad follow them up. Esk squad and the nearest ten specialists follow Death Watch’s tails. The rest of you need to be setting up a net to get those that scattered.”

“Yes, ‘Alor,” Silvern answered, even louder than before.

Jaster nodded and Shina cut off the call.

“-They’ll look like they flew through a tarpit,” he heard Ghuts say.

“No, they won’t take offense to the blaster resistant hat, you old imp. Now I know your hip doesn’t like the day before it rains so start walking,” she continued a moment later.

She laughed and rolled her eyes at whatever was said on the other end before hanging up.

“Young Baro’s got your commandos covered,” Ghuts said as she swiveled around.

“How old in young Baro?” Shina asked, clearly still trying to catch up.

“Over sixty now, right?” Jaster mused.

“Sixty-two,” Ghuts confirmed, “although as far as Baro’s feeling about it, we’re still at fifty-nine.”

Jaster snorted. Just like old Baro.

“ Has there been any word from district nine yet?”

“Not directly,” Ruusvail said, “but the non-existent, out-of-work protector chat says they’re surreptitiously not investigating any claims of closed roads with locals rehashing ray shields aggressively.”

“So Judicate Niv can’t officially contact me without getting in trouble, huh?” Ghuts mused.

“Tell Silvern that we should avoid crossing into district nine or staying in there as much as possible,” Jaster ordered Shina.

“’Alor!” Norbi Viklum called from across the coordination center. He turned to look at her. “Most of the Death Watch who scattered in district eight have jetpacks!”

W ell, kriff.

And it hadn’t rained in a week. They didn’t want another round of burning. Letting Death Watch burn the fields with their backpacks wouldn’t make the locals like them very much. Using their standard anti-jetpack measures were even more likely to start fires. Which would make them even less liked. And Jaster was unwilling to let Death Watch go here.

“Um, Mand’alor,” Ruusvail said, somewhat tepid, of all things, drawing Jaster out of his non-productive brainstorming.

Jaster raised a brow in question.

“There’s an EMP in each field and by each residence,” Ruusvail continued.

“Pardon?”

“Got it passed three years ago. District eight reported complete installation last year. Each town has one in their common hall too. Minimum allowed range is twenty meters,” Ghuts elaborated.

He’d come up with the idea, pushed for it, when he’d been a journeyman protector. It had never gained much traction, and he’d only suggested the common halls.

“Ruusvail used to ramble about you a lot when we were courting and I got him drunk.”

Jaster delicately avoided commenting on how Ruusvail’s face got redder at that.

“The passcodes are the district number followed by lot code,” Ghuts continued, “we’ve been prepared for this war to stop ignoring us completely for a while.”

They had, at least, the Fetts had prepared. The entirety of Concord Dawn was another story. However, their obvious preparation certainly explained the overall more cooperative attitude than had been expected. Jaster did his best to school his expression. This wasn’t the time to look greedy or excited like he wanted.

Stars above, when was the last time Jaster had run into people who could improve his ideas?

Jaster watched Silvern and Mardruk walk away to relay his orders before turning himself.

Ghuts was talking with the judicate for district eight. Ruusvail was half a step behind her on one side, Freem on the other. The other judicate seemed to be neither hostile nor particularly welcoming. Rather, they were more or less ignoring Freem, as if to say his presence was worth remarking on.

Casual acceptance without much engagement. It was a much better place to start then he usually got, at least when True Mandalorian influence started with violent fights.

Jaster made his way over to the group.

The conversation stopped as he drew near. Freem gave him an actual bow, the Fetts gave deep nods, Ruusvail’s a little lower. The eighth district’s judicate looked at the Fetts for a moment before following suit with a slightly shallower nod.

“Judicate Prig,” Ghuts introduced, gesturing at her peer before gesturing back to him and turning to Judicate Prig, “Judicate Prig, may I introduce Mand’alor Jaster Mereel. Hes all around.”

“Mand’alor Mereel, hm?” the old man mused, “that’s what those True Mandalorian folks call you?”

“I am Mand’alor to all who answer my call,” Jaster replied. So district eight had no intention of joining him yet, but would work with him if he wasn’t forceful, was it?

Judicate Prig nodded, apparently pleased with his answer.

“But there are some who take offense to that, who ran through here the past few days,” the man continued.

“Yes. If you’d like any of the bodies for your own processes, we will give them to you. Otherwise we’ll handle disposal quickly.”

“Oh, I don’t care much for the bodies, so long as there aren’t many more of them. Least you could do for an aging farming community like this would be to keep the miscreants chasing you from coming back into our fields, wouldn’t it? They are right across from our roads still, after all.”

So they’d be allowed to set up encampments in the district and use it to launch counter attacks. That was better than Jaster had expected.

And the practicality of the decision was refreshing. It really had been a while since he’d been on Concord Dawn.

“Of cour-” Jaster began.

He stopped talking to grab the judicate in front of him and tear them both a half step to the side as the stars yelled at him from behind their veil.

A blaster bolt streaked past. Jaster heard it ting off of a helmet, accompanied by a surprised by not seriously injured “oof.”

Jaster barely managed to take one hand off of Prig when Ghuts shot a stun blast at the Death Watch attacker who had come out of an alley on the side of the square.

Ruusvail handed her a net pack without looking as soon as the blast hit and made the attacker stumble. Ghuts didn’t need to look either as she immediately loaded it up and fired.

The shock net wrapped up everything but one arm. The Death Watcher only tried to move once before instincts convinced them to stay still instead of getting shocked a second time.

“Well, I suppose one more doesn’t count as many more. You’re safe for now,” Prig pointed out in a joking grumble.

Jaster didn’t answer as a few commandos rushed around them to capture the Death Watcher, nor as Silvern directed people to search for any other stragglers they needed to take care of. He was two busy watching the two figures still in front of him.

Gloriously efficient. Aware and self-possessed and not afraid and so competent from the combination.

Ghuts Fett and Ruusvail Fett were beautiful.

Jaster carefully undid the flap of the pouch under the table as the outcome of this game of dejarik’s outcome became obvious.

“I have a question for the both of you,” he said.

Both Ruusvail and Ghuts paused their movements and looked at him for a moment. They turned back to the game and rushed through the last few moves that gave Ghuts the win, tying their little tournament.

“What is it?” Ghuts asked, clearly able to tell this was a serious conversation but not making judgements yet.

Jaster pulled out his gifts, laying the two pieces of armor on the table, side by side.

Ruusvail’s body stiffened in shock first. Ghuts managed to look up at him first, eyes wide with surprise.

“You’re serious?” she asked.

“Yes,” Jaster answered, voice calm but heavy, “I’d like to court you both.”

“These are opisthene pads,” Ruusvail said, almost like he didn’t mean to say it.

“Yes,” Jaster answered again.

With the way this relationship might start, vambraces would be too much. A smaller piece of armor was more appropriate. But armor that went on the back of the hand, so close to a vambrace, showed his seriousness all on its own.

They’d driven Death Watch off Concord Dawn and stabilized it more or less. The Fetts were only going to be on the True Mandalorian flagship above the planet for another two days. Which was survivable for them all if they rejected him.

Ghuts looked over at her spouse, who was still stuck looking at the courting gifts.

She cleared her throat quietly.

Ruusvail’s spell was broken, letting him look at Ghuts immediately, eyes wide with more amount of emotion than type of emotion.

Their heads tilted at each other slightly, hands twitching, for several seconds.

Jaster looked down at his attempt at claiming them while they communicated silently.

The Mereel crest stood out starkly against the warm yellow background. The equally black spikes running around the edge of the pads were stylistic and thankfully had come out correctly, so that they could be recognized as the mythosaur tusks of the True Mandalorian sigil within two seconds of looking. A somewhat subtle, but still loud and strong claim.

If worn.

Jaster looked up to watch his two intended continue their unspoken conversation.

Ruusvail cleared his throat and turned back towards him.

“Why us?” Ruusvail asked.

“You’re both strong, competent. I like you and being around you, I’m excited whenever you’re near. I like it best when you laugh or tease and I want to make that happen more often,” Jaster answered, the words flowing out naturally despite how unpracticed they were.

Ruusvail looked at Ghuts after a second. Ghuts stared at him for a moment more before turning to look back at Ruusvail.

Jaster did his best to ignore how well he could feel his heart beating against his ribcage.

Ruusvail’s head moved, almost imperceptible. Ghuts turned back to him.

“All right,” she said, a small smile growing on her face, “let’s see where this goes, then.”

Ruusvail reached out and grabbed his claiming gifts.