Chapter Text
Satine stood, waiting by the port, as a ship landed.
It hissed and steamed in unpleasant ways, and there was a particularly dangerous crunch as it landed. Rust painted the sides, and the plating was poorly welded on.
Satine doubted they ever would have even seen such a ship in their youth. She had walked a hundred times down the worn steps from her father's palace, across the tiled walkway to climb up into the hull. She could not remember a time when that ship had been sleek and elegant, nearly silent in its take off.
The first time she had stowed away in a ship with Obi-Wan, she had been terrified of the clunky nature of the ships, and had nearly tried to jump off the ramp when she heard the engine grinding away. It had taken Obi-Wan fifteen minutes to explain to her that this was an average amount of noise for an engine to make, albeit amplified by them hiding so close to it. She had felt stupid. Like a child learning to walk all over again. But over time, and many ships later, she learned these ships were far sturdier than she'd given them credit for.
The platform lowered a few moments after the landing. Bo-Katan walked down the plank.
She was taller than Satine remembered. Perhaps taller than herself now. She wore no armor, as was the law now, but she was allowed one unarmored guard with a blaster. She carried a bundle of cloths close to her chest. Satine hardly dared breathe, watching them.
Slowly, Bo-Katan strode across the long walkway, eyes flicking from side to side.
The enormous dome built to protect her people from the radiation was finished, but the city had only been under construction for two months. Already thousands were moving in, desperate to be in the center of regrowth and hope for the planet. They lived on barely cured foundations in tents, and built their homes around them.
The government building was hardly than a series of temporary housing units and a plain concrete base at the moment, but Satine stood as tall as she ever had. Sundari would prove itself in time.
Bo-Katan reached Satine at last, and she stared at her with sharp eyes, and she did not bow.
“Sister.” Satine said, gently.
Bo-Katan did not reply, but merely tucked the bundle a little closer to her chest.
Satine's hands itched, but instead of reaching for the bundle she raised her arm and motioned.
Two men brought forth a box and set it between the two sisters.
Bo-Katan knelt, and slid back the lid with one arm. She stared at the contents, and her eyes widened. She picked up a helmet with a white owl painted across the forehead.
To Satine's surprise, her face twisted into a snarl. She had hoped Bo-Katan would be pleased. After her father had estranged her, he had stripped of her armor. In exchange for raising Korkie, Satine had promised to return it, and restore her to the family. But she had also included their mother's armor. Her old armor.
Bo-Katan tossed the helmet down in disgust.
"So you too have given up our people's ways for good." She spat. "I do not know what I expected. Haran. "
"I have put away that which poisons our people so we might continue to be Madalorian. Not dead." Satine replied. Despite herself, an edge grew in her voice. "It killed our mother, our father, it killed millions of us in the past year. It has haunted us for thousands upon thousands of years-"
Bo-Katan sneered. "All it will take is one fool, one fool to kill you and take your place. And you would leave yourself unarmed and without your beskar."
"Defense is an entirely separate thing." Satine said, her voice growing louder. "We will defend ourselves-"
"And who will defend you ?" Bo-Katan accused, raising a finger. "Your guards? Shall you watch them die and suffer in your name and not so much as raise a finger-"
"I will never rest until we all are safe." Satine snapped.
"You will die in the attempt." Bo-Katan said, drawing herself up to her full height. She was taller than Satine now, she was sure of it. "And what if your people's defensive is not good enough? Shall you go crying to the jetti again? Shall you mix with the enemies of our people? Do you remember nothing of our histories-"
"That was a horrible mistake brought by the manipulations of our own people." Satine said. She was nearly shouting now, Bo-Katan as well. "Obi-Wan explained-"
"Ah, yes." Bo-Katan turned to the guard as an audience, tossing her arm up in disgust and rolling her eyes. "Obi-Wan. The noble jetti protector. Willing to die for a woman who refuses to fight for her right to live."
" I did not ask him to defend me. " Satine said, hissing.. "He was given his duty by his teacher, and I did my best to show him his own way. He has returned to his people now. He is where he belongs." She nearly snatched a piece of parchment from a servant to her left. "Here is the proof that you are written into the Kryze line again. It will be as if you never left. Now give me the child. "
Bo-Katan turned on her feet, and eyed the paper hungrily. An almost daring look entered her eyes and she snatched the paper away. She tossed the paper into the box with the armor. She looked down at Korkie for a moment, then smirked at Satine. "I am beginning to doubt you are fit to raise him."
Satine suddenly felt nauseous. The dome around them, the dome built to protect them, the one she had spent nearly four months shoving in front of every architect and engineer she could find, was suddenly a prison, a tomb. The gray girder’s pressed at her soul, crushing it down and down and down… Acid spilled up into her mouth and she swallowed it down. A sort of panicked desperation, worse than anything she had felt before rose inside her. And so she spoke with the only weapon she had left, her words.
While Satine had always known the traditionalists would turn on themselves when they had no one else to feed on, she had not expected them to deteriorate so quickly. She’d hoped they’d have two or three years, at least. At this rate they would destroy themselves.
"Why? Because I seek to banish what has destroyed everything I hold dear? There is so little of what remains of what I love. You will not come to live here, and so I give you mother's armor so you might be safe. You cannot provide a safe upbringing for Korkie, and so I will take him in."
"Better to live and danger and know himself than to be raised by a coward!" Bo-Katan said.
"Can you swear to me?" Satine accused, raising her finger. "Can you swear to me he will know no hunger? When your people starve on that moon and the winners of the battle will strip the meat off of fallen foes and enemies alike to smoke and dry? Can you promise me that he will be safe when your people have turned against themselves and show no signs of pausing until they have hunted each other to extinction? Can you promise me that he will be spared when you are overtaken, when the name have shown time and time again they have no interest in taking in foundlings? Can you promise me he will grow up in his family, when at any moment you could be killed? Or will you choose your own selfish desire over what is best for him? If so, this is not your child to raise ." she emphasized.
Bo-Katan’s lip curled.
“Give me Korkie.” Satine said. Her voice was low and tight, but was rich in threat. “Here he will be safe.”
Bo-Katan looked down at Korkie. She ran her finger along his cheek. She shot Satine an accusing look. "You will give him a choice." She said, roughly. "You will not force your… your new ways on him."
"The way of the New Mando'a will be his to choose, or to grow into something new." Satine said. “Would you offer him the same choice?”
Bo-Katan’s jaw locked. Silently, she lifted Korkie and placed him in Satine's waiting arms.
Satine pulled him up against her chest. She tucked Korkie's head underneath her chin, stroking his cheek with her thumb. Her eyes burned. The dome dissolved around her, leaving only her and Korkie and the bluest of skies. She breathed, and though it was a breath of recycled oxygen and exhaust it seemed as sweet as the cool morning air on Kelevala .
“Thank you.” She said in a low voice.
Bo-Katan nodded. After a moment, she picked up the chest and nodded to Satine.
"Goodbye Ruugami’la ." She said, and turned to walk up the ramp back into the ship.
Satine watched as the ramp drew back into the ship. Comforted a whining Korkie as the engine's exploded with sound.
She did not stop watching until it had exited the dome. Swiftly she turned on her feet and sped across the port.
She passed the main hall, her council room, the guards barracks until, at last, she arrived to her own quarters.
They were small, with simple clear plastic windows. Her bed was better than a cot, at least, but it was rickety nonetheless. Her desk was the only real piece of furniture, and that was because there was no temporary desk that held enough drawers for her.
But Korkie was small, by the time his memory stayed with him, there would be buildings of carved stone and steel. Rich carpets, stained glass windows, sleek ships.
Gently she laid the baby on her bed. He squirmed as she unwrapped the blankets that pinned his arms to his side. She grasped each tiny hand, kissing one, and then the other. Then, eyes burning like fire, she pressed her forehead to his.
“Oh, Korkie.” She whispered. “My little one, my littlest one.”
He had been a small baby. All Mandalorian babies were, with generation after generation of female warriors, but he had been especially small. Barely larger than her two hands put together. He had grown so large in the past year, she hardly recognized him. But she would reacquaint herself.
He began to cry, perhaps because he missed Bo-Katan, or perhaps because he was cold after she had unwrapped. Hastily she wrapped him again, patting his back and humming a song Obi-Wan had taught her.
Dearest, darlingest little Korkie. Her sun, her stars and her sky. This was what she had fought for. This was what they had waged the war for. For the hope of the future generations.
Korkie would never grow up feeling less because he was not as talented at killing as others. He would never know hunger or fear as she had. No one would dictate the path of his life. And he would never be forced to bear the pain of his ancestors, to be passed the poison of their past. He would be free, to build his own future in peace and happiness.
Satine continued to sooth Korkie, even as he continued to whine and cry. “Hush, my little one.” She said. “All will be well. I swear it.”