Chapter Text
The Foundlings had all fallen asleep in a pile, except the Kid. He had gone back up to the cockpit with Din and Paz. He wanted his buir more than the pile and Din was okay with this, he worried about the Kid being squished.
He knew that was a slightly ridiculous worry, but the Kid was very small.
“We need to pick a name, for you, ad’ika.” Din murmured. “I was thinking we’d maybe find your people and discover you already had one, but… I think we should pick one. What do you think?”
The Kid merped quietly from where he was snuggled into Din’s cuirass.
“Okay, we’ll think about it.”
Teryn twitched in her sleep and Cuan tightened his arm around her until she quieted. He had a feeling she wouldn’t be sleeping well for the foreseeable future, but for the moment she was resting, and that was good.
He’d been too enraged and terrified, and then just relieved that she was alive and with him to focus his attention on how to introduce the two tribes. But now, with not much time left before they got to Samaki, he had nothing to do but think about but how this was going to work.
They knew that the Covert that had taken him in needed a new place to live, and his Chief had agreed to speak to the Armorer on that subject. He’d told his people that this Tribe was more traditional, more conservative, were deeply protective of their names (hell, he didn’t know the names of almost anyone) and would need separate quarters- fortunately, that was easy, there were several buildings they weren’t using. As for the details- how they would begin to figure out how they would live together, that was beyond his pay grade. Would they want their Foundlings trained separately? What would happen if one of them decided to live by his Tribe’s customs, and not their own? Or vice versa?
And, he looked down at Teryn, what about her?
He’d told Teryn the truth- he didn’t know how his tribe was going to react to him bringing her home. But he hadn’t told them about her. When he’d told her that they wouldn’t consider her helmet being removed by another Mandalorian- one who was supposed to be an ally- to cause her to become dar’manda, that was… well, it was probably the truth. The idea was just so appalling that he’d never really thought about it. Removing your helmet yourself, or losing it in battle was one thing, but that?
The fact that they hadn’t allowed her to even come home to explain her side of the story… that filled him with such cold rage. It was bad enough to have been betrayed by that coward. But then to have that betrayal compounded by her own tribe… and then she’d had to kill him herself.
He was impressed that she’d survived it. He could tell that the mere fact of surviving it had been impossibly difficult, but she’d come out the other side. Battered, bruised in her soul (she still had one, no matter what she thought), but still standing.
But she’d lived outside of the Creed for over ten years. When she’d said she wasn’t auretii, she was just complicated, she wasn’t kidding.
He hadn’t told them about Arkil, either. He wanted to break that news in person, not in a coded communication.
This homecoming was going to be awkward .
She jerked sharply and went rigid, and her breathing suddenly became tight and rapid. “Hey. Mesh’la, it’s okay.” He could see her blinking, and he kept murmuring until she turned to look at him. “Nightmare?” She nodded. “Ger morut’yc. It’s okay.”
She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I think this is going to go on for a while.”
“Probably.” He rested the forehead of his helmet on the side of her head until she relaxed and was able to breathe normally.
She started untangling her hair with her fingers as they dropped out of hyperspace with a jolt. Teryn nudged the Foundling pile to wake them up. The Foundlings all made a scramble for their helmets, and Cuan went up to the cockpit to handle the approach to his Covert.
On the plus side, he thought, he did succeed in his original mission. He did have solid intel about Gideon.
The Talon followed the Razor Crest down and landed in a clearing near two other ships. Teryn stared at the hatch as it opened, and so did the Foundlings. Paz, Din, and Cuan climbed down from the cockpit. Cuan went to the carton that had Arkil’s armor in it- he’d retrieved it from the Talon at the rendez-vous stop so he could carry it out, and stared down at it for a long minute. Teryn came up behind him and rested her chin on his shoulder.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save him.”
“I know you tried everything you could.” He took a deep breath and picked up Arkil’s helmet, and looked at it, running his fingers along the ridges. She squeezed his arms firmly, and stepped back. He carefully placed the helmet on top of the carton, picked it up and slowly headed to the hatch, but stopped to give her one last look. She swallowed, and then let him watch as she arranged her face into the mask that hid any anxiety.
He left the Razor Crest first, followed by Din and Paz. Din carried the Kid, and the Foundlings followed in line. Teryn came last. The group from the Talon had arranged themselves behind the Armorer, and Paz went to her side. The Foundlings all arranged themselves by their buire, and even the littlest ones were wearing their helmets. Everyone, except for the Kid and Teryn. Teryn tried to quietly fade to the back, but Din made a quick motion with his hand to tell her to come to his side, near the front. The only reaction she allowed with a minuscule tightening around her mouth, but she did as he asked.
Cuan went forward to a group of three people, his Chief, a tall woman in dark red armor like his own, a large man who had a hammer on his belt, clearly an Armorer, and a third person, who stood behind them. She looked down at the armor he carried, and nodded. Their Armorer reached forward and picked up Arkil’s helmet, and looked at Cuan. Cuan nodded, bowing his head.
The Chief dismissed him, and he went towards the buildings at the far edge of the valley, where Teryn could see a number of people- some of whom were without helmets. She took a deep breath and the Chief and the other Armorer walked over to the group. Teryn fought the urge to glance at Din. The Chief gave her a sharp look before addressing the Armorer.
“Greetings. You are welcome here, Verda. We understand your journey has been long and fraught. We have quarters prepared for you, so that you may rest and get settled before introductions are made.”
The Armorer nodded. “Vor entye.”
The Chief gestured to the third person. “This is our al’verde, Ademe. She will show you to your quarters, and answer any immediate questions and needs you might have.” Ademe nodded at them all and gestured for them to follow her, while the Chief and the other Armorer turned and followed Cuan’s path.
Teryn gave Cuan’s back another looked before glancing at Din. Din gave a minuscule shrug back, and they followed the rest of the refugees to their quarters.
Cuan trudged to the main part of the complex with Arkil’s armor feeling heavier and heavier with each step. As he passed by people, they realized what he was carrying, and what it meant, and an unnatural hush spread through them.
“Ba’vodu!” a voice called, and he closed his eyes. “Ba’vodu! Where’s Bui-”
A lanky teenage girl came running up, just barely old enough to have taken the Creed, and skidded to a stop, staring down at the carton. “Nayc…”
“I’m sorry, Atriu.” Cuan said gently.
“What happened?”
“We got ambushed on Lutrilla. We were helped by two other Mando’ade, but… his injuries were too severe, and he didn’t make it.”
“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr, advc, ni partayli, gar darsuum, buir.” she said quietly, laying her hand on Arkil’s helmet. “We should tell ba’buir.”
Cuan nodded. “I need to talk with alor, and give my report, but she knows I wanted to see you both, first.”
“Are those people from the Covert that rescued you?”
Cuan nodded. “They needed to move on from where they were hiding. Alor offered to let them stay here for a while.”
Atriu nodded and followed him into one of the buildings. In one of the rooms on the ground floor, an older Mandalorian sat near a heater. He turned his head at their entrance, ears cocked at the sounds, but his eyes didn’t focus. “I hear Atriu, and…. ah, bu’ad. But only one of you?”
Cuan approached slowly. “Ba’buir.”
“Cuan. Where is your vod?”
“He’s marching far away.” Cuan took his grandfather's hand and placed Arkil’s helmet into it.
The older man bowed his head to the helmet, touching his forehead to it, and repeated the remembrance for the dead, adding the name of his son and other grandchild who had been killed in the Purge. Cuan removed his own helmet, and he and Atriu also bowed their heads, as they sat in silence together.
The old man looked up. “Did I hear two ships landing?”
“Yes. We have guests.”
“Hmmmmm.” He cocked his head at Cuan. “More than just guests, I think. You can introduce her to me when they get settled.”
Not for the first time, Cuan wondered if his grandfather was a sorcerer. He always seemed to know just slightly more than Cuan or Arkil had planned to let on. “I need to give my report to alor. We buried him on Jelucan, but they were not able to give him the full rites he deserved, nor did they know him.”
“We will do right by him, ad’ika.” The old man patted Cuan’s cheek. “He had a warrior’s death?”
“Their healer tried her best, but in the end all she could do was sing him to sleep. He wasn’t alone.”
The chief of the Samaki Tribe, Rima, sat in her rooms off the Forge, waiting for Cuan to come make his report. She had taken leadership of the Tribe several years before, when Tuathal Tadasco relinquished his place after he went blind. Their Armorer, Sadet, was brilliant with metal, but not interested in leadership. The fact that this new Tribe’s armorer was also their chief was interesting.
Also interesting was the unhelmeted woman with them. She had armor, though it was unpainted and unadorned, but no helmet. Not something she would have expected to see in this traditional Covert.
At Cuan’s knock, she poured two glasses of net’ra gal and called for him to come in. “Su cuy’gar.”
“Su cuy’gar.” They toasted each other and took a seat.
“Well. It seems you had quite a trip. I am sorry about Arkil.” Cuan nodded. “Start from the beginning.”
“We were on Lutrilla- we’d heard that a warlord was setting himself up there, and wanted to check it out. I’m not sure what caused them to ambush us- it wasn’t Gideon, it was someone else- but they got the drop on us. Arkil was… he was impaled with a harpoon, and went down, and I had a broken ankle, when two other Mandalorians came to our rescue. I lost consciousness, and woke up as they were bringing us to their healer.”
“Their healer wasn’t able to save him?”
“No.” Cuan bowed his head. It was hard to remember that he had lost one precious thing and gained another at the same time. “They buried him.”
“We will honor him tonight.” Cuan nodded in thanks. “Did you have any intelligence regarding Gideon?”
Cuan waited until she’d taken a sip before saying, “I saw him.”
She managed to not spit out the beer. “You what?”
“The reason they had to evacuate Jelucan was because he had found them, and was about to attack. The… one of them was captured by his men, but was able to escape.”
“I see. That person is here?” At Cuan’s nod, Rima tightened her jaw. Good. The more information they had, the better. “Does he have the Darksaber?”
“He does. And he’s used it.”
Rima took a deep breath. Up until this point, the Darksaber rumors had been only rumors. There wasn’t any confirmation that Gideon had possession of it. Now they knew. Now it wasn’t just vengeance that required his death. It was a moral imperative to get the Darksaber back in the possession of the Mandalorians.
“Tell me about the Tribe that you’ve brought here.”
“They were on Navarro, originally.” Rima sucked in her breath. While there wasn’t much communication between Coverts- it was yet another security measure that protected them all, if Coverts didn’t know where others were- the rumors of the massacre of a group of Mandalorians had scattered outwards through the galaxy. In a people who’s secondary pastime was gossip, those rumors had reached Samaki, and they had mourned.
“No wonder they’re jumpy.” She narrowed her eyes, thinking. “Are they part of the remnants of Death Watch?”
“They are.” Cuan took another swig, nodding. “They are extremely reserved. I don’t know most of their names. I’ve never seen any of them without their helmets, except…” he paused.
“Yes. I saw her. What’s her deal?”
He took a deep breath. “She was betrayed by one of them. He removed her helmet and left her behind in order to escape enemies.”
“Do we need to worry about him?”
“No.” Cuan said, flatly.
“And they have allowed her to stay? I didn’t expect that from Death Watch.”
“They didn’t. They didn’t…” He clenched his jaw and put down his glass so he wouldn’t break it. “They didn’t even let her back to tell them what happened. She lived outside for over ten years. She was only allowed back because of Gideon.”
“...I see.”
“She’s….” Cuan took a deep breath and thought about how he wanted to phrase this. “She’s deeply important.”
Rima looked at him speculatively. She and Cuan had known each other for most of their lives. “To you?”
“Yes.” He said, softly. “And to them, even if they can’t bring themselves to admit it.” He looked down at his feet. “She’s their healer- until she came back, they only had an apprentice medic.”
“Hmmmm.”
“I know she is a complication, but…”
Rima waved her hand. “It’s all complicated, vod. Every part of it.”
“There’s another complication.” Cuan took another deep breath. “We know what Gideon is looking for. And they do have it.”
“What is it?”
“A Foundling.”
Rima sat back. So much death over a child? “Well, fuck this guy.”
Cuan smiled. “That’s what I thought you’d say.”
The Navarro Tribe went into the building Ademe led them to. “This building had living apartments. They haven’t been used in decades, at least, but we got them cleaned up… mostly. There’s some furniture, and the power works… there’s a common room over here...”
The Armorer looked around and nodded. It would more than do. The Foundlings all looked at the sky with some trepidation, and she noticed a few of the adults did, too. It had been quite some time since they’d lived above ground, and, she admitted to herself, it was…. strange. After a while the tunnels had felt comforting, not oppressive. They’d been safe.
So much space above them was going to take some getting used to.
After a quick tour, she called her people to the common room. “Unload personal items, and take them to the rooms you’ve chosen, and start thinking about things you might need. For now, we will leave the forge and other equipment on the ships until we have a better handle on the situation.” She looked at Teryn and Tabor. “The medical supplies…?”
Teryn glanced at Tabor and nodded at him. He straightened his shoulders. “I think we should also leave the medical equipment on the ships for now. We have medkits if anyone needs anything.” Teryn nodded in agreement. They’d talked about it, but she wanted him to get more comfortable with taking the lead on decisions, and standing be them.
He’d come a long way in only a few months.
Din picked rooms at the end of the building that had a view of a copse of trees from the window. He felt a little bit bad about taking such a good view when he wouldn’t be around all that much- someone still needed to provide for the Tribe, and that was still his job, but the Kid had made a beeline for the window and sat there, staring at the trees and then pointing.
“Kurshi. Tree.”
“Kur… Kurs...kurshi?”
Din nodded. The Kid smiled and turned back to the window. So that was that. “Let’s go find your ba’vodu.”
They found Teryn in her own room, poking through the box of her things. “Vod’ika? I… I have something for you.” He held out his hand, and in it was a beskar mudhorn signet. She looked at him, speechless. “Alor made it before we left, I hadn’t had a chance to… I understand if you don’t want to wear it, but I want you to have it.”
She took it and stared down at it for a long time, then back up at him. “Vor entye.”
“No. You don’t accept a debt. I should have done this a long time ago. I should have done a lot of things a long time ago.” He looked down. “I know you’re angry that I never tried to find you. I should have… I should have.”
He tried to put his forehead on hers, and she flinched away. She ducked her head lower, so he could touch his forehead to the top of her head. The Kid wrapped his arms around them both as far as they could go.
The Armorer sat down in her own rooms, pulled off her helmet, and rolled her neck. It had been a long, long day, and didn’t look to truly end any time soon. Figuring out how, or even if the two Coverts could integrate was going to take every bit of diplomacy and leadership she possessed. She knew that Din would be leaving soon, and likely taking his ad with him. As for Teryn, that was another question. But it could wait until later.
But her people were safe and that was the most important thing.
As the Navarro Tribe was getting more or less settled, Cuan found Teryn in her own rooms, turning the mudhorn signet over in her hands. He’d politely put on his helmet before coming into the Navarro Tribe’s building. “How’s it going?”
“I think some of the Foundlings are a bit freaked out over the sky, but they’ll adjust.”
“I have someone...well, two someones I want you to meet.”
She gave him a worried look as he led her out, and slowed as people started to stare. She squeezed her hand. “Don’t worry about them.”
“Easy for you to say.” she muttered. She caught the eye of their al’verde, Ademe, and fought the urge to shrink back, and lifted her chin instead. You might not have a soul, but you still have your pride.
Inside, Cuan led her back to the ground floor room, where Tuathal was still sitting, Arkil’s helmet still in his hands. He raised his head, and cocked his ear. “Ah, bu’ad. Who have you brought? I don’t recognize the step.” He set down the helmet, and Teryn sniffed cautiously. The heater was running full blast, and she could smell what was probably a topical medication for aching joints. He was wearing a cuirass, but it was light, and more decorative than functional.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a Mandalorian that she could classify as legitimately old before. Certainly before the Purge.
“Teryn, this is Tuathal Tadasco, my ba’buir. Ba’buir, this is…” Cuan paused, and squeezed Teryn’s hand, while she looked back at him uncertainly. “This is Teryn, from the other Covert. She’s…”
Tuathal smiled. “Gar cyare, I can tell.” Your beloved. He gestured. “Come here, ad’ika, let me get a look at you.”
Teryn paused and gave Cuan an incredulous look, and he shrugged as he took off his helmet. “He knows things. Just go with it. The rest of us do.” He gave her a gentle nudge forward. She stepped forward, and Tuathal took one of her hands in his. “You’re the healer.”
“...how?”
“I can smell bacta and soap. Were you with Arkil?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I couldn’t…”
He shook his head and waved at the seat next to him. “Sit, sit.” She sat, and he cocked his head. “You’re not wearing a helmet.”
“No.”
He reached up toward her face, and she jerked back, pulling her hand away. Cuan inhaled, just as Tuathal stopped, his plam inches from her cheek. He cocked his head and pulled his hand away. “ Oh. Oh, ad’ika, I am sorry.”
Cuan could see her eyes had gone unfocused, and he stepped forward. “N’eparavu takisit, ba’buir, I should have warned you.” He carefully put a hand on Teryn’s arm. “LaarSenaar? Ger morut’yc.” She looked at him, blinking a few times before her eyes focused again. Cuan rested his forehead on the side of her head. “I’m sorry, I should have…”
She shook her head. “It’s…” She wanted to say it’s okay, it’s fine , but it was neither of those things. And they both knew it.
She took a deep breath, and looked back at Tuathal, who had been listening to this with a mixture of sadness and softness on his face. “I’m glad to meet you.”
“My bu’ad gets into scrapes. It’s good to have a healer with him.” Tuathal held out his hands again, and she took one, and carefully opened it up, looking at the bent fingers, and gently massaged his palm.
“Joint pain?”
“It’s not too bad in my hands, but my knees… when the weather gets nasty.”
She hummed a bit. “How did you lose your sight?”
“You don’t beat around the forge, do you?”
She smiled ruefully. “It’s easier than letting people ask questions about me.”
“Not long after we found this place, I was off world when, like my bu’ad here, we got attacked by some Imps. Really, I was too old to be out like that, but pride makes it hard to give up what we love. I was too slow, and a flash grenade shorted out my helmet and burned my eyes.”
She nodded. That would do it.
“Ba’vodu? Who is that?”
Cuan took a deep breath. He hadn’t prepared Atriu or Teryn for this. He knew this was going to be awkward, but…
“This is Teryn, she’s from the new covert.”
Atriu’s eyes fixated on the blue medic armband Teryn was wearing. “Is she the healer that couldn’t save my buir?”