Chapter Text
Jaster had been fascinated with the Jetti since he was an ad, and being the history nerd that he was, he couldn't help but be all the more fascinated with their shared history. They were so similar, like opposite sides of the same coin. Both warrior cultures, changed and driven by similar aspects, and surviving despite many attempts to annihilate them.
Jaster couldn't help but think their two cultures could do so much together. If only they could get past that shared history. Or more accurately, if only they could find the Jetti. The idea, originally, was to find as many Jetti as they could after the temple burning and offer sanctuary, aid if possible. However, when the flames died down and the rubble was cleared. No one found any trace of them. Everyone knew there were survivors, how could there not be. But no one could find them.
So began the hunting.
This was easier said than done. If a Jetti didn't want to be found, then they wouldn’t be.
There were ways around this of course. It is said that when a kará touched ad is born, other star touched can feel them, that's how Jettí find younglings and steal them away. Very rarely are any of the Jettí actually seen stealing the ad, but everyone knows. if an ad just sometimes up and disappears anywhere, chances are the Jettí are to blame. Not that any of the families actually claim their ad was stolen. No not at all, it was usually a friend or neighbor who reported an ad missing, and over half of the time, the buir were gone too. This led to the question, ‘were the Jetti stealing whole families? Or were they all going willingly?’ and those were only the ones who were reported. Whole communities often ended up missing, and despite their best efforts, even the best bounty hunter couldn't track them.
Most of the physical Jetti sightings happen around big catastrophic events as well. Like the poor things just can't stop themselves from trying to help. Rubble shifting just slightly to allow those trapped in an underwater mine shaft to escape, people miraculously healing when they should have died, crops growing even after the land had been destroyed.
Jaster commended their dedication but couldn't help but worry that they would wear themselves thin trying to help others before they could be helped themselves.
Just one more reason he had sent out the comm that there was the open bounty on Jetti, so to speak.
The downside to hunting Jetti is that, after a while, the Jetti caught on to what Jaster's Supercommando’s were trying to do. Whether due to past history or new experiences, Jetti sightings dropped even lower. They were skittish. And like with any scared animal, bad things can happen when they get backed into a corner.
To date there have only been two accidents. Jaster was involved in the second one, unfortunately, and it lost him a good portion of his favorite blaster. Jaster found the poor little thing backed into a corner in a dusty alleyway behind a cantina on Tatooine, after shutting down a slave ring. Blond hair shaded a rust color due to blood, what looked like a baby clutched to his chest, Jaster had spooked them, and his poor blaster had met an untimely fate. It wasn't the Jetti’s fault by any means, and Jaster should have known better, but the heat of the moment and the desire to steal the little Jetti away had overruled any common scene Jaster might have had at the time.
The biggest mistake Jaster had ever made was letting the little Jetti hear that they were actively hunting them. It was later understood that “hunting” was probably not the best word to use. ‘Saving’, ‘absconding with’, ‘integrating’, anything would have been better than telling that single Jetti that they were hunting them.
Which technically they were, just not to kill them.
The little Jetti had escaped, along with the baby, and what Jaster believed to be several former slaves, given where they were. All in all, Jaster was disappointed not to have been able to put a tracker on any of them.
It was in this revelation that a new group was formed. The best of the best. The Guild.
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Jango didn't like hunting Jetti. Things always seemed to happen when he did. His first time out he broke his leg, the second time he got stranded. And it was looking like this third time he was going to kill his bounty.
He understood that it was an honor to be chosen for this team, that only the very best could even attempt what he was doing, but still. He could understand his buir’s plan, but if the Jetti didn't want to be found, did not want help, why should he keep trying?
It had not been the plan, when Jango had taken this particular bounty, for things to go so sideways. First off, the idiot on the puck was not an idiot, and had led Jango on a merry chase through the trash heap this particular town calls a shipyard. Secondly, he lost sight of the bounty, and third he was almost crushed by a falling engine while chasing the bastard. So no, Jango was not happy, and things had not gone exactly to plan.
Dragging his tired carcass out of the trash heap was almost as bad as chasing the guy through it, but it had one added benefit.
“Dammit Anakin! You could have been caught! Someone could have seen!”
The hushed scolding that was heard as he was leaving was very helpful. Mostly because the idiot he had been chasing was coincidentally named Anakin.
Peeking around a towering pile of metal gave him one of the most beautiful sights he possibly could have asked for on this backwater little planet. There was his bounty. Head bowed, face red with shame, pouting like it was his real job. Hands fisted at his side.
The other voice however was what truly captured his attention.
It was an angel. It had to be an actual angel.
Hair like a flame. Voice like the chiming of a bell, even as it was scolding the other. And when he turned, Jango caught sight of the bluest eyes, alight with passion. The hottest flames, any Goran would tell you, burned blue like that.
“The younglings are more important than some scrap metal! You could have been recognized by the Guild Anakin! Do you know what that would cause!”
“Mass Hysteria.” Anakin muttered at the same time as his mesh’la reached out to grab his ear, twisting it painfully if the look on his bounties face was anything to go by. Jango could almost sympathize.
Even watching the mesh'la drag his bounty off was worth it. And if his mesh’la was traveling with his bounty, there was certainly the chance he would get to see him again. After all, Jetti traveled in packs to protect ad, as they had found out, which meant that Jango would almost certainly see his mesh’la again. If it killed him. The fact that they had a group of younglings was an added bonus. Ad were the future after all.
Maybe Jetti hunting wasn't so bad.
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Two weeks later, Jango had successfully tracked and observed both his bounty and his mesh’la riduur. Even if they didn't know it.
There were three adults. The bounty Anakin, his mesh’la; who was apparently called Obi-Wan or Ben, and a third with blond hair pulled back in a tight braid, he had heard the name Feemor thrown around a few times. Then there were the ad. There were five. One Tougruta and one who looked similar to his mesh’la, were the older ones and three ad’ika who couldn't have been more than three. They were obviously well cared for and well protected. Aside from the first day Jango had not seen the ad without at least two of the adults.
The younger ones would be fairly easy to integrate. The older ones would be subdued and when you integrate a family, they usually do best when they realize how well the ad’ika do, how much better it would be for everyone to comply, to integrate. Then they can be together again. Families always integrated the fastest. And regardless of the idea of ‘no attachment’ that used to be so prevalent amongst the Jetti, Jango was fairly positive that this group was, in fact, a family.
Jango had decided, ultimately, that everyone was going to be darted with the hypos he kept ready and then put in carbonite for the return trip. No need to be trying to escape before they were ready after all.
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Obi-Wan knew someone was watching them. He had felt it since Anakin had tried to dodge that bounty hunter in the junkyard two weeks ago, and the more he searched for whoever it was that was stalking them the harder it became to focus on it. They needed to get the kids to the Path and get them clear before he could investigate. He would never risk his Padawans or the new younglings. Ever.
Even Feemor trusted him enough to know that. That's why his brother often brought him along on finders' trips, even if it meant dealing with Anakin's dramatics, or his own brand of bad luck. These younglings were well worth the risk. And when they got home, they would be cared for, trained, and raised in the way of the Force. Not necessarily as Jedi, that path was not for everyone, but they would never know the pain of being shackled to a corrupt Senate. They would never feel the shame of not being able to help so many of the beings and planets that begged for it. They would never be used as cannon fodder in wars that were not theirs.
Feemor must have felt his mind beginning to slip to that darker place it sometimes went to, because he wandered over and ruffled his hair. “It’s alright little brother,” Feemor sighed, gently nudging him towards the tent they had set up, well camouflaged and shielded, “go cuddle with your padawans, get some sleep. Tomorrow we will head home.” Obi-Wan might have done just that, except no sooner had he turned, then a glint of metal caught his eye. He kept his pace, whistling a short tune. It was a code, Anakin and Feemor would know. They were being watched. The barrel of the blaster followed him.
Feemor tensed before suddenly a dart pierced his neck. Obi-Wan spun, reaching for his brother before he could even think about it, gasping as he dodged more darts, “Fee!” dragging Feemor behind a tree with the Force, hoping it would keep him from being hit any more. Who knew what was in those darts.
A yelp was heard from inside the tent, then almost like watching in slow motion, darts pierced it from all sides. The younglings! Not the younglings. Obi-Wan would never again see the bodies of those he holds so dear laid strewn across the floor, he had ensured it the first time, he would not allow it to happen out here in the middle of nowhere either.
He could have screamed when the Mandalorian stepped from inside the tent, blaster at the ready. Flashbacks of his visions creeping at the edges of his vision, green and gray paint replaced with white.
Obi-Wan snarled and stalked forward.
He prayed to the Force for forgiveness for failing his family again, before he attacked the bounty hunter.
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Jango was having a very successful hunt this time. By calling in Myles and Silas, he was able to not only track but ambush the Jetti camp. Not an easy feat. It was, however, easy enough to sneak into the tent, well camouflage though it was, it had a front entrance and a back entrance. He would have to show all of them how to prepare a tent correctly after they were integrated, because while two entrances were great for getting out quickly, it only worked if the attacker was coming at you from one side only. Not all sides. Definitely not if an attacker was planning to sit in said tent and wait their prey out.
Sliding into the back of the tent, into the darkest corner, he sat back to wait. The little ones - hopefully - wouldn't know that beskar’gam muffles the force around someone, making it easy to wait till everyone in the tent was settled before carefully darting each person. The last ad, the one who looked like his mesh’la tried to grab the blaster from him, but the moment he touched it there was a strangled yelp, before the ad dropped, twitching like he was shocked. Hopefully he wasn't too badly hurt, though Jango couldn't tell what he might have done. He darted the ad anyways just in case, before marching through the front of the tent.
He had seen the blonde, Feemor, go down, so all that was left was his mesh’la.
The red blur that attacked him was a pleasant surprise. His mesh’la’s eyes flamed neon blue and were those fangs! Mesh’la didn’t begin to cover it anymore! Obi-Wan had successfully ticked all of Jango's boxes and he didn't even know it! And the fight! Oh, what a glorious fight! Jango could tell that Obi-Wan was trying to get him as far away from the tent as possible, away from the ad. 'He doesn't realize that Myles and Silas are here yet.’ Jango thought to himself, dodging a kick to the chest, before a hit connected with his shin. He didn't really feel it because of the shin guards but still. It had to have hurt, because hitting beskar with bare anything has to hurt, but Obi-Wan skittered backwards away from him, just for a second his eyes cleared, before the neon glazed them again and he pitched forward.
Jango could admit, if only to himself, he was enjoying this fight. It wasn't often that someone pulled out all the stops when fighting him, even other ramikad, it just didn't happen.
This just cemented in his head that his atin cyare mesh’la would be the best riduur. He was already a protective vod, and buir, and he was a hell of a warrior. Obi-Wan would be the solution to all of their problems. He would draw the Jetti to them. Jango wouldn't have to go hunting anymore. They could lock down the entry points. They could be done with the so-called Republic.
With Obi-Wan as his, they could accomplish everything his Buir had set out to do. Then he could focus all his attention on securing Obi-Wan as his and integrating the ad quickly into their aliit.
Eventually his dear mesh’la tired, all it took was one misstep, and Jango was on him. A quick dart to the neck and it was over. Cradling Obi-Wan in his lap as he the dart finally took effect, watching as those glazed neon blue eyes faded back to normal fire blue before closing, was well worth the teasing he would get later from Myles and Silas. Hoisting himself up, never letting go of his prize, Jango turned towards his friends.
“Thanks for the assist.” he nodded towards where the other two had already brought the ad out and laid them on stretchers to be brought onto their ship. The Jetti’s ship would be towed and then later used as a lure more than likely. “Where is the third adult?” he asked, carefully laying Obi-Wan next to the red-haired youth who had dropped earlier, pleased when the lines on Obi-Wan’s face smoothed. He couldn't resist and ran a hand over both of their fiery heads, pushing the hair back. He was such a cute buir! Jango was internally cooing. He couldn't wait to get his new family integrated.
“Behind the tree, confirmed hit, with at least three darts.” Myles chuckled before tensing, “you need at least four for full effect you nerf herder.” the Jetti, Feemor, said with a strangled growl, before a flash bang went off right in front of the three Mandalorians.
“That's for targeting my little brother,” Feemor hissed, before shoving all three bounty hunters into the closest tree. He didn't have the power to keep them there long unfortunately, but it was enough to get them away from his unconscious family. Stepping backwards but never taking his eyes off of the three Mandalorians, Feemor aimed a light kick towards the closest fallen, which happened to be Anakin. “Ghuuh…” came the mumbled response, “Fee? Whas’ ap’nen?”
“Anakin get up. Get up now!” Feemor urged, kicking a little harder, the Mandalorians were getting up and Feemor couldn't hold them much longer. They needed to get out of here. “Please Anakin your emergency beacon. Just hit it!” Feemor urged, desperation coating his tongue, sweat dripping into his eyes as he struggled to keep the Force steady around the Mandalorians, keeping them away from his family.
“Yes Anakin,” one of the Mandalorians shouted from where Feemor had them shoved, sitting up a little bit straighter, “hit your beacon, we would love to stock up on this trip.” it sent a chill up Feemor’s spine. Stock up. What could they possibly mean, stock up. Feemor was shaking apart, and Anakin still hadn't moved. Stall Feemor, just a little longer.
“What do you mean stock up?” he asked with trepidation, not expecting the answer he got, definitely not from the person it came from.
“Well easy enough.” a different voice chimed, before Feemor felt a sharp sting on his back. Another dart. Then another. The drugs taking almost immediate action on his already weakened system, he fell to his knees, keening from the mere idea of his poor family being killed in front of him like he just knew they would be. Poor Obi-Wan had shown him the visions he used to have, he didn't think he could handle that. He would fall.
“We try very hard to reach a quota per standard rotation on how many Jetti are rescued and accounted for. There is the data list you see. You in particular aran’ika, I have been looking for you since you destroyed my favorite blaster.” Jaster chuckled softly before moving closer, “This group in particular, you have ensured that they have ‘stocked up’, they have exceeded their quota and will be well rewarded” Jaster smiled, reaching up to remove his buy’ce, “Which if we set that beacon off, we might just get even more lucky and save a few more of your people,” he knelt down a bit closer to Feemor, carefully putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him into a more reclined position, “What do you say cyar'ika?” a hand ran gently through the tangled mess of hair that had come out of Feemor’s braid, gently moving it behind his ear, making Feemor arch into the touch, “Why don't we save some more of your people together Feemor?”
Feemor was grateful that the drugs took him before he could respond or do anything else that might embarrass him more than he already was. What a sad fate, he thought to himself as black overtook his vision, 'the potential to sell out my whole family for a few hair pets and some gentle words', and he almost did it.
Jaster smirked, before looking back towards his son and his men, still running his hand through the soft blonde hair. “Two of you start hooking up the extra ship, the other will help me with placing our newest vod’ika in carbonite.” with a groan the other three stood and split off to begin their assigned chores.
This was a good hunt, but the journey wasn’t over yet.