Chapter Text
Jango comes awake with a start, and he immediately knows something is wrong. He is, unfortunately, familiar with the feeling of being knocked out and waking with a head injury, and that pulse of pain on the left side of his head tells him he wasn't sleeping. The uneven hard surface beneath him tells him he is not in his ship, or the Keldabe stronghold.
Knocked unconscious, then. He opens his eyes to slits, grateful for the darkness that surrounds him. He takes quick stock; an ache in his left leg that increases when he moves his foot (not good), double vision (very bad), armor gone (unacceptable).
Someone is going to die for this.
Considering the pattern of aches and pains, he thinks he was beaten while he was still armored, which means the armor was removed after he was knocked out. With that, the memory starts to come back to him in bits and pieces.
He'd been in Sundari on a tip from an old acquaintance, who claimed there were leftovers of Saxon and Almec's rebellion and Death Watch remnants gathering. He'd told Jango there were signs of habitation in the complex cave and tunnel system that begins at the Living Waters, deep under the city dome. Jango hadn't really believed it; the whole thing had been based on nothing more than rumors and paranoia. He'd mostly gone to Sundari because it was a good excuse to check up on the New Mandalorians, who have been getting ideas above their station, with Kryze out and about. Kote isn't keeping nearly a close enough eye on them, too trusting as usual, so it falls to Jango to protect his son's rule.
It looks like Jango's old friend was right, though. The memory of his capture is mostly lost to him, coming to him in fragments; the last thing he recalls clearly is that his armor systems cut out suddenly upon entering a tunnel with a sharp slope. The sudden absence of light, vision, and stabilizers sent him tumbling down the incline. After that, there's just a confused mess of impressions that probably signifies a fight – in which he must have made an ass of himself, considering the outcome.
There are armored footsteps heading in his direction, an unfamiliar tread that echoes strangely in the space around him. It doesn't sound like he is in a regular cell. His heart immediately begins to pound, and unfortunately, the pain in his head pounds along with it.
He doesn't realize there's a ray shield until the hum of it switches off, and that tells him how fucked he really is; he's not thinking clearly if he didn't catch that immediately. His blurry vision shows a rough ceiling above him, and combining that with the knowledge that there's a ray shield, he concludes he's being kept prisoner in a cave. And someone is coming for him.
He forces himself to stay relaxed, fighting not to tense up. The footsteps come closer, two sets, heavy and slightly uncoordinated, plus a sound of something being dragged along the floor. Then there's a thump and a muffled groan, and Jango risks a glance. Two armored figures have just dumped another person in the cave. One of them now takes out something and points it at the person on the floor.
For a second, Jango thinks he's going to watch the other prisoner get shot. But it's a holocamera. They video the person on the floor, then head over to Jango, camera still on. He waits until they're almost on top of him, then surges up to knock into his captor's knees. His left leg flares in agony, crumpling beneath his weight, but he'd been prepared for that, keeping most of his balance on his right leg.
The being swears in Mando'a and almost topples over, but their compatriot catches them just in time, and kicks at Jango. He tries to grab their foot, but his coordination is worse than he thought. Instead, the kick catches him in the shoulder, and he flops over onto his back. More injuries make themselves known, points of sharp and dull pain popping up all over his body. He's been badly beaten.
"Stubborn shabuir1," enemy no. 1 says under their breath, regaining their balance. They point the camera at Jango again, and continue, "I think that serves as proof of identity."
Enemy no. 2 has backed out of reach and is now standing at the mouth of the cave. Beyond them is a sparsely lit corridor, maybe a tunnel of some kind. "Kind of weird that they'd both show up at the same time, though, right? Should we be preparing for an invasion?"
"The Ka'ra2 have provided," enemy no. 1 replies, with the type of fervor in his voice that Jango associates with members of Death Watch. "This proves they are with us, and victory will come to us soon."
Great. Zealots.
Jango tries to gather his energy for another attack, but the enemy is already moving out of reach, and a moment later, the ray shield hums back to life, bathing the cave in a red glow.
Jango moves cautiously, going over his injuries again. His left leg is definitely broken, and the headache and double vision are concerning. His breath comes short, but that just feels like bruised, not broken, ribs.
Why keep him alive, though? And the holocamera… He can't think. The pain in his head is blocking out everything. Concussion, maybe?
He shakes it off. He is alive, which means his first priority needs to be getting out of here. He awkwardly shuffles over to his new cellmate, trying to spare his broken leg. His heart sinks when he spots the copper thatch of hair. Even before he rolls them over to see their face, he knows what he will find.
Kenobi. Stripped of his armor, as well, and bleeding from a gash in his forehead.
Jango wipes away some of the blood to see how serious the head wound is. The bleeding is already slowing, but Kenobi's weak groan shows he's barely conscious.
Jango's hand drifts down, hovering for a long moment over Kenobi's throat.
It would be so easy. Kote would never know.
Jango sighs and pulls back. The kid would be heartbroken, and a heartbroken Mand'alor is bad for the stability of the whole sector. It probably wouldn't even galvanize him into vengeance, like it might do for someone like Fox.
He shakes Kenobi's shoulder, then pats his cheek. "Hey. Jedi."
Kenobi's eyes flutter open, and he smacks Jango's hands away. He tries to sit up and winces. "Just as a heads up, I may throw up on you if you don't move away."
Jango scoots backwards, and indeed, Kenobi leans over and spits out bile. He's been gaining more color since he's been living under Mandalore's unforgiving sun, but now he looks as pale as when Jango first saw him.
Kenobi looks up at him, frowning. "What – what happened? What are you doing here?"
"Looks like we've both been captured by a group of would-be rebels, hiding in these tunnels. You've got a head wound, as do I." Jango speaks softly, taking care in case there is a guard listening, somewhere down the tunnel. He doesn't hold the confusion against Kenobi; head wounds suck. He's still having trouble keeping his own thoughts straight. It might be something worse than a concussion. He doesn't know how long he was out. They both need medical attention, and soon. "They stripped you of your armor, but did they leave you with anything? A hold-out weapon, bacta patches, something?"
Kenobi gingerly sits up further, digging around in the pockets of his kute3. Only then does Jango realize that he hasn't even checked his own. He's really not himself. He follows suit, and comes up with a single stim tab, tucked into a ripped seam.
Kenobi just shakes his head. "Nothing." He spots the stim tab. "Is it just the one?"
Jango nods. He moves to put it back where it came from; best to save it for the inevitable fight.
"Wait." Kenobi holds up a hand. "If you give that to me, I can get us out of here."
"With a stim tab?" Jango raises a skeptical eyebrow. "Do they fuel Jedi magic, or something?"
"My… magic," Kenobi's face twists at the word, "requires concentration, and I can't concentrate properly with this." He gestures at his bleeding forehead. "With the stim, I can heal us both and shut down the ray shield."
Hell, no. "You're not getting near me with your tricks," Jango spits, scooting a little further back. He immediately regrets the action; he doesn't want to give Kenobi the mistaken impression that he's afraid of him.
Kenobi rolls his eyes, then winces as if even that hurt. "Then I'll heal myself, and leave you to suffer, if it pleases you. We'll still have a better chance."
The logic is, unfortunately, sound. Jango reluctantly hands over the stim tab. Kenobi has the grace not to say anything more about it, simply placing it on his tongue and waiting.
"I think they fried my armor with an EMP," he says after a moment.
That sounds similar to Jango's armor suddenly dying on him. He just hadn't been thinking clearly enough to draw the conclusion, himself. "Mine, too." He gives Kenobi an impatient look. "Is it working?" The stim tabs are fast acting, meant for battle.
Kenobi nods, and his eyes do seem sharper, less hazy. "Quiet, please." He closes his eyes and places a hand over his forehead.
Something rises in the air, like static electricity, before dying away again. Jango's breath catches, and he resists the urge to scoot even further away by the skin of his teeth.
When Kenobi lowers his arm, there is a raised, silvery scar under the dried blood, but no wound. He looks less sallow, too; must have done something about the brain injury, as well as the outward wound. "That's better." He looks Jango up and down, his eyes catching on Jango's broken leg. "Are you sure you don't want me to heal you? We won't be getting far with you banged up like that."
"Keep your magic to yourself," Jango grits out from between clenched teeth. He tightens up his mental discipline as far as he is capable of, through the throbbing of his head, but he makes sure to mentally project his revulsion. From the way Kenobi's mouth twists, it's working.
"Very well." Kenobi rises smoothly to a crouch. "Wait here." He slinks over to the ray shield, and stays there a moment, probably doing something Jedi-ish.
A moment later, Jango seriously wonders if he's started hallucinating, because it looks like Kenobi walks right through the ray shield as if it isn't there. There's a surprised noise from someone down the corridor – so there was, in fact, a guard – and then the thump and clatter of a fight with someone in armor.
Time to get moving.
Jango has managed to find his way to the ray shield by the time it comes down, though it's made the agony in his leg sharp enough to almost drown out the headache. Kenobi appears again from out of the darkness, giving him a critical once-over. He holds out the guard's boots and one of their sets of greaves.
"You took their armor?" Jango demands, glaring at him. Does the Jedi have no respect for their culture at all?
"They took yours," Kenobi points out evenly. "And if you're going to move at all, you'll need a brace for that leg. This will do for now." When Jango keeps up the glare, he sighs impatiently. "Or would you rather just lie down and wait for death right here?"
Jango wants to throw the greaves in his face, but practicality wins out. He snatches it from Kenobi's hand instead and sets about strapping it as tight to his left shin as he can stand, clenching his teeth against the pain. At least it's not a compound fracture, he reflects. He won't be able to put weight on it, but it shouldn't get infected. The boots, however, don't fit. He ends up leaving them off.
When he struggles to his feet, Kenobi makes an aborted move, as if to try and support him, but he seems to think better of it before Jango has to snarl at him to keep his hands to himself. That's for the best, because just standing up is enough to suck the breath from his lungs. The headache ratchets up another notch.
Kenobi hands him a plain knife, keeping the guard's blaster for himself. Jango would protest, but he's self-aware enough to realize that he's going to be useless, if it does come to a fight. Damn it. It will take him weeks to recover from this, even with bacta, and that's if they manage to get medical help in a reasonable time frame. Getting old is a bitch.
He blinks when Kenobi returns to his side – he hadn't even noticed him leaving. His vision is reduced almost to a tunnel, the pain in his head bleeding the edges of his vision black.
"The tunnel splits about twenty meters away," the Jedi says, ignoring the way Jango wavers on his feet. "I vote we take the path that leads upwards."
"Makes sense." As Jango forces himself to limp along, using the side of the cave to stabilize himself, he casts about for any distraction he can think of. "Aren't you supposed to have Journeyman Protectors on your tail every hour of the day? Where are they?"
Kenobi pauses, frowning. "What did you say?"
"I said…" Jango starts to repeat himself, but he can't make his tongue work. It feels like a foreign object in his mouth. He almost seems to be floating, and his right arm is tingling. Is Kenobi doing something with his powers?
The world dissolves into static, like a wave coming over him. He's left tumbling helplessly in its wake.
When it finally recedes, he's back on the rough stone of the cavern floor, Kenobi leaning over him, one warm hand on his forehead, the other on his leg. Jango twitches, trying to shove him off, but his limbs don't obey his commands, and he just flops around pathetically. "What the hell," he manages.
"You started speaking gibberish," Kenobi informs him, withdrawing his hands. "And then you had a seizure. I decided you have been in no fit state to make a rational decision about medical care, so I went against your wishes and healed you." He doesn't apologize; he just meets Jango's gaze calmly.
Jango's jaw clenches. He wants to rage at Kenobi, to tell him exactly what he thinks of that presumption, but… can't. He's no expert, but even he understands that a head injury bad enough to lead to seizures is one you might not survive, especially under these circumstances. Kenobi just saved his life.
If there's anything Jango didn't need, it was a life debt to a Jedi, but honor demands that he acknowledge it. "Vor entye4," he forces out.
Kenobi nods slowly. "I went ahead and took care of your leg as well, while I was at it." He points at the silvery scar on his forehead. "This version of Force healing leaves a nasty scar, which, in your case, is now on your shin bone and your brain. You'll still need medical attention once we get out of here, or you might find yourself suffering the consequences later. But for now, you'll be able to walk."
Well, at least he hasn't tried to decline the debt. But Jango isn't about to thank him again. "Good enough for me. Let's get going, then."
He struggles to his feet and heads down the tunnel, not waiting to see if Kenobi follows him – which he does, with a sigh that sounds distinctly annoyed. Jango smirks to himself where Kenobi can't see. There's nothing quite as satisfying as cracking that mask of serenity that Jedi like to wear.
Now that he can think again, though, he can see that his refusal to let Kenobi heal him was idiotic. He blames the head injury; he would never have made that decision if he was in his right mind. Kenobi was right about that. Jango is, first and foremost, a practical man, and he can hate the Jedi and their magic all day long, but being mobile and ready to fight trumps everything. He can feel that his leg isn't quite right, which must be that scar on the bone Kenobi mentioned, but it takes his weight just fine.
There are no more lights along this tunnel, only the faint promise of daylight somewhere above them. As he struggles over the uneven rock, trying not to trip and break another leg, he remembers what he was asking in the first place, before the seizure interrupted. "Where are your Protectors?"
Kenobi clears his throat. "I don't know. Two were with me when I entered the cave system, and I think Mika went down with me when the EMP hit. I don't know about Sev. I'm hoping they both managed to get away, and help is on the way."
Jango scoffs. EMPs don't discriminate. They'll likely find two corpses somewhere in these tunnels, if they look hard enough. "What about the guard you took out? No commlink?"
"No signal down here, except for a local network that I didn't want to risk using." Kenobi reports briskly. "I didn't want to alert our captors."
Of course. Nothing can just be easy. "And their own communications? Anything useful information in their messages?"
"They're in some sort of encryption that I can't break on the fly."
"Show me." Jango holds out a hand, and Kenobi hands over the comm without comment. The messages on the comm are, indeed, written in text that is arranged into words, but reads like gibberish.
"It's not a simple alphabet shift cypher," Kenobi says, taking the words out of Jango's mouth. "The letter distribution is all wrong."
There's something about it niggling at Jango, but he can't figure it out just yet. He gets moving again. "Maybe after we get out of here, we can take our time breaking the cypher and figure out what they're up to. In the meantime, Kote should be coming for us either way. They were making a holovideo of the both of us. They're probably planning to use us as bait for him." And if they want to send that video, they'll need a signal somewhere, which means the two of them should also be able to get a message out at some point.
"Hm."
That simply hum sounds so dismissive, so typically Jedi, that Jango can't help but stop and look over his shoulder. "What's that supposed to mean?" Somehow, he'd come to expect better from Kenobi.
Kenobi shrugs. "We've had that discussion, Cody and I. Since I insisted on going about Jedi business all over Mandalorian space, we knew there was a possibility I might end up injured or captured at some point. We've agreed that he will not abandon his duties for my sake."
Jango stares as Kenobi moves past him without stopping. "And you actually believe that means he won't come? He's still Mandalorian, no matter what ideas you've been putting in his head."
Kenobi doesn't turn to meet his eyes. "We agreed he was welcome to send anyone he liked, but he would stay back. So. Any idea who these people are? Death Watch, Saxon's people, a whole new faction?"
Jango glares daggers at his back, picking his way over the increasingly rough terrain with difficulty, while Kenobi skips ahead with all the grace of a vulptex, as if he can't feel the lack of proper footwear. "A bit of everything, maybe. Dissidents from a number of backgrounds, clumping together."
"Well, if it's just their shared disagreement with Cody's policies holding them together, let's hope they'll fall apart easily once their trap for him fails."
That is too stupid to let pass. "Better to eradicate the whole group here and now than deal with scattered remnants."
"Eradication sounds like a tall order, for two people without weapons or armor."
That won't stop Jango. Dissidents are to be expected. Kote is making a lot of changes to Mandalore and its society, and although the results can't be argued with – increased trade, improved living conditions for clans outside the cities, trees growing in Mandalorian soil – there are bound to be those who don't like his methods.
Hell, Jango is one of them, though he has to admit that seeing Kote's accomplishments fills him with paternal pride. But aside from using the Jedi for far more things than necessary, the kid's latest project – incentivizing the clans to increase food production on whatever fertile land they own – is drawing people away from the mercenary companies. They've already had several arguments about whether revenue brought in now is more important than a decrease in dependency on food imports in the long run.
But Jango has buir prerogative. He can argue with Kote as much as he likes, but that doesn't mean he will tolerate rebellion being fomented against his son.
The tunnel is narrowing, and even Kenobi's pace is slowing. "Cody will be upset to know there are still Mandalorians willing to resort to this kind of underhanded violence just because they disagree with him," Kenobi muses, turning sideways to get past a rocky outcrop.
Jango follows suit. "Kote is overly naïve for a Mand'alor."
Kenobi raises an eyebrow at him over his shoulder. "Does he never remind you of yourself when you were younger?"
Jango sometimes wonders. If not for Jaster's untimely death, if not for Galidraan, would Jango have been that hopeful and trusting? He hopes never to see Kote's shoulders bow beneath the weight of that kind of failure.
A flash of Kaminoan blood painting white walls comes to him. It will always be with me.
He shakes his head. "It's probably innate. Must be accidental; a deviation in his growth tube. I can't imagine the Kaminoans deliberately breeding that kind of wide-eyed idealism into the command batch."
The look he gets for that is withering. "His idealism is paying off, whether you like it or not. Look at Kessel. Just last week, two more mines asked to join the conglomerate and start using Mandalorian mining equipment, even with Cody's stipulation that they stop using slave labor. He is changing hearts and minds, and it's even bringing in revenue for Mandalore."
"He isn't changing anyone's mind," Jango scoffs. "They're just greedy, seeing the other mines raking in the credits with our machinery. He's already had to send troops twice to enforce those stipulations of his."
Kenobi pauses, feeling ahead in the darkness before squeezing through a tight gap in the rock. His voice drifts out of the crack. "And yet, there are fewer slaves on Kessel. One has to start somewhere."
Jango forces his way through the gap after him, the rock scraping his skin through his kute and catching on the zipper. He yanks himself free. "They'll just take the spice they mine to Oba Diah for processing, and you know who will be doing that job."
"Slaves." Kenobi's tone is subdued. "I'm aware. But change on a matter this engrained in society is neither swift nor easy. And killing the Pykes in that first mine would have just seen them replaced with more of the same. Your methods are no better. Besides." He turns back to look Jango in the eye, his face barely visible in the dark. "I didn't notice you going out on campaigns to slaughter slavers when you were Mand'alor, either. You didn't take an interest until it got personal."
"Mandalore can't stand against the Hutts or the Pykes yet," Jango says. "I wasn't about to lead my people into a slaughter." Not again.
Kenobi stops again, and for a moment, Jango thinks it's because of what he said, but the Jedi is stretching out a hand instead. "Oh."
"What?" Jango crowds closer, shouldering him aside to get a look. The tunnel in front has dwindled to a narrow gap, not even large enough for a child to fit through. "Osik5."
Kenobi sighs. "The trouble with natural cave systems, I suppose. Not all tunnels lead somewhere. We'll have to go back. Unless you think it's a better option to wait here for help to arrive."
The weak sunlight still filtering down through the fissure is difficult to turn his back on, even knowing that its promise of freedom is false. But Jango knows the correct answer here. "These cave systems extend for kilometers, and they're like a labyrinth. Without a commlink or locator on us, it could take them weeks to find us, even if they bring an army."
"Then back down it is. I suppose our abductors will be waiting for us by now, if they know this tunnel is a dead end. We should be ready for a fight."
What a gift for stating the obvious. "I'm always ready for a fight." Jango hasn't heard any signs of pursuit yet, but that means nothing. Sound can behave oddly in places like these.
"I'm not sensing anyone, yet," Kenobi says as they make their way back. "Though I've had an odd feeling ever since I first came here. The Force moves strangely down here; I think it's why I didn't get a warning before the ambush."
Cryptic Jedi stuff; just what Jango needed to brighten his day. "Give me the blaster. I'm better with one than you are." And with his headache gone, he can actually aim.
"That's debatable," Kenobi says, but he exchanges the blaster for the knife.
Jango grimaces at the feel of the grip but curls his hand around it anyway. A Blastech pistol, and an old model, to boot. What a piece of crap. Still, it's better than nothing.
When they return to the place where the path splits, Kenobi pauses and holds up a hand, signaling stop in Mandalorian battle sign. Jango freezes in place, dropping his weight lower in readiness. Kenobi stalks closer to the corner, his feet making no sound on the rock. He crouches lower, head tilted, then holds up a hand with four fingers extended.
Jango quietly moves closer, whispering, "If we can –"
Before he can finish, Kenobi takes off at speed, running along the side of the wall and careening around the corner.
Jango blinks at the impossible sight for a fraction of a second before pelting after him; already, he can hear the collision of bodies and the clang of durasteel. "Haar'chak6!" What an idiot.
Kenobi is in the middle of a knot of warriors, keeping their attention on himself as he weaves between and around them at unnatural speed. Jango stays to the side, trying to get a clear shot, but Kenobi keeps fouling up his aim. The only upside to his ridiculous strategy is that he's ruining the enemy's line of fire, as well.
The Jedi throws out a hand, which sends one enemy combatant stumbling towards Jango, giving him ample time to shoot them. His first shot goes wide, but it's enough to help him calibrate his aim with this unfamiliar weapon, and the next bolt hits home in a gap in their armor. They crumple in place. This leaves three more to go, one of whom has now realized that Jango is there and tries to rush him. Jango moves to put distance between them and fires again, getting the shab7 in the throat. Kenobi ducks around his own adversaries and throws out his hands, sending them both sprawling. Jango himself feels a wall of air pushing him backwards. He fetches up against the rock wall, cursing, but he takes the opportunity to shoot twice, finishing the fight.
Kenobi pushes a stray lock of hair back. "Well." He looks down at the corpses.
Jango narrows his eyes, waiting for recriminations. He's heard more than one complaint from Fox about how the Jedi refuses to take a life unless absolutely necessary – and the way he's infected Kote with those sensibilities.
However, all Kenobi says is, "That went smoothly. I didn't think we'd work this well together."
Jango's simmering temper boils over. "Are you kidding? You didn't even take the time to strategize; you just rushed in like you're invulnerable."
Kenobi lifts his chin. "This was the best option. I was keeping their attention on me so you could take them out from a distance. You're not wearing armor."
"Neither are you!" Jango hopes the Jedi can feel every bit of his exasperation.
"I have the Force." Kenobi has the gall to sound nonplussed, as if he can't fathom why Jango wouldn't agree this was the best way to handle the fight.
Jango silently laments that he managed to incur a life debt to someone who is actively trying to get himself killed. To be put in the position of trying to keep a Jedi alive... "Did it never occur to you that we might have come up with a safer idea if we'd put our heads together? Typical." He shakes his head. "Just another arrogant Coreworlder who thinks he knows better than everyone else."
Kenobi's eyes turn glacial, and it sends a thrill up Jango's spine. Finally, that annoying mask is coming off. "Maybe I don't trust your strategizing."
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
"I'm not too impressed with a man who lets his children fight his battles for him." Kenobi's voice has gone snide. Some part of Jango purrs in satisfaction; he always brings out this side of Kenobi eventually. Gone is that aloof, fake-serene look.
"I was under the compulsion of a Sith," he snaps back. "Where's your excuse?"
Kenobi pushes off from the wall, putting them chest to chest. "You weren't under anyone's compulsion when you had them take Kamino."
"They deserved their vengeance." Jango narrows his eyes. "But of course you'd deny them that agency."
"They deserved to be children." Kenobi pushes past him, heading back to the corner. "And you took their last chance for that away when you had them kill for you."
Jango follows him, his blood still up. "That's rich, coming from you. What does your Order do, huh? Indoctrinate kids to repress all their emotions, then put them in the field before puberty has even hit."
"Our younglings learn about the outside world. They get choices. They are taught to channel their emotions in healthier ways than violence and vengeance." Kenobi peeks around the corner. He looks back at Jango and blows out a slow breath. The mask slips back on. "We can fight once we're out of here. Right now, we should save it for the enemy."
Jango grits his teeth. He wants, more than anything, to deck the conceited asshole, but he can't deny they're more likely to get out of this alive if they work together. "Fine. Let's arm up." He turns away from Kenobi and sets himself to the task of stripping the bodies around them of weapons.
Other than the new armaments and a few more dead enemies, they're left right where they started. Jango takes the lead as they head down the second corridor, the one leading down.
It's only a few hundred meters before this one opens up into a vast space, their breath echoing dangerously loudly across the still surface of the underground lake that takes up most of the area. They both automatically soften their steps, even though they're walking on socks. The edge of the lake is lined with mine lamps, but the back of the cave is lost in darkness. There's no telling how far the lake stretches.
Kenobi whispers, "Are these the Living Waters? Are we close to Sundari?"
Jango looks at him over his shoulder. "Where did they get you, if not close to Sundari?"
"We entered somewhere beyond the Keldabe BioDome, though I'm not sure how far we'd hiked before we went down." Kenobi raises an eyebrow. "You were ambushed near Sundari?"
"Yeah. But… the aquifer feeding the Living Waters extends far under the surface. There's no telling if we're still near." Jango presses his lips together in dismay. If their access points were that far apart, and neither of them knows how long they had been unconscious before being brought to that cell, they could be anywhere now.
Forget it taking weeks for anyone to find them; if they don't rescue themselves, it could be months.
He squats down near the water and dips his fingers in, then licks the drops off. "Fresh water. At least we know we're nowhere near the ocean." The water would have been brackish otherwise. These few drops, however, awaken a raging thirst in him, and he scoops up a whole hand to bring to his mouth. The cool water soothes his parched throat in spite of the bitter mineral tang of it, and he takes another handful.
Kenobi kneels down next to him, hesitantly running his fingers through the water. "It's potable?"
Jango rolls his eyes. "No, I like to poison myself for fun. Where do you think Sundari and Keldabe get their water supply? Rain?" It rains about once every month, and most of that is too tainted to drink.
Kenobi doesn't deign to respond, but he takes a drink of his own. Just beyond the edge, the lakebed drops sharply, leaving the bottom invisible even through the crystal-clear water. The lake could be a meter or two deep, or it could be hundreds of meters. Jango only knows these aquifers are vast and sprawling.
When he looks to the side, Kenobi is staring into the depths of the lake as if the answer to life can be found there.
The last thing Jango wants to do is ask and get some kind of mystical answer in return. Instead, he gets to his feet and accidentally kicks Kenobi's ankle in the process. Kenobi startles out of his… whatever-that-was and stands, as well. He takes in the numerous tunnels leading away from the lake and looks at Jango. "Which one, do you think?"
Jango raises a challenging eyebrow. "Your magic can't tell you?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I forgot that my use of the Force stops being repugnant to you the moment you find it useful." Kenobi turns away from him and regards the different exits. His head tilts. "That one." Wholly confident, he strides to the tunnel furthest on the left.
Jango follows him, narrowing his eyes. "What's down here?"
"Shhh." Kenobi slows his steps, creeping forward on socked feet.
Jango draws the DH-23 Outback he took from one of the corpses back in the cell – still inferior to his own custom Westars, but better than the shitty Blastech Kenobi had handed him before – and holds it at the ready. When they near a corner, and Kenobi slows even more, Jango holds him back by the shoulder. Since Kenobi seems to know Mando battle sign, he uses it to indicate he'll take point. Kenobi does appear to understand, because he rolls his eyes and wiggles his fingers near his temple, whatever that means.
Jango ignores him and goes on ahead. Peeking around the corner, he clocks two armored beings in a guard position, with a veritable armory behind them; the small cave is stacked with cases of blasters, ammunition, and who knows what else. His eye is immediately drawn to the blue-and-silver chest plate thrown carelessly into a corner, and a cold rage rushes through him at the sight of his armor treated with such disrespect. He clicks off the safety on the Outback and takes aim.
He doesn't know if it's the noise that alerts them or if they simply spot him, but the guard on the left swears and aims their own blaster. Jango fires before the guard can, only for the other one to shout into their comm, "The prisoners are loose! We need backup!"
The commlink tears itself off their wrist a second later, flying against the wall and bursting apart in a shower of components. Then Kenobi is on the second guard, knocking them down and bashing their helmet against the ground.
When Kenobi steps back, Jango fires into the guard's neck, just to be sure. Kenobi casts him a dark look for it but doesn't comment.
"Hurry," Jango tells him. "Get armored up before the backup gets here."
The Jedi merely holds out his hand, and a silver cylinder flies into his palm. "There we are. Armor is one thing, but this is more important. The crystal's call is what led me here."
His lightsaber. Jango shivers.
He tears his eyes away from the thing and goes to search out the scattered pieces of his armor, putting them on as he finds them. He'll never understand how Kote could walk around for months without his second skin; he should have just killed the assholes who took it from him and have done with it. Jango certainly intends to.
His frown deepens as he examines the pieces. Some of the circuits appear to be fried; most of the electromagnets aren't working, and he has to rely on latches to get the most important pieces to stay in place. The HUD is a lost cause. Reluctantly, he leaves the helmet off so as not to limit his field of vision.
Kenobi's armor appears in similar straights. He foregoes the helmet, as well, but he might have done so either way. Jango hasn't been home often, lately, but he's witnessed several arguments between Kote and Kenobi over the Jedi's so-called forgetfulness when it comes to his helmet. His constant disdain for it, in spite of the unforgiving Mandalorian sun, is why he now sports a nearly orange head of hair, rather than the auburn Jango first saw him with.
It's a lurid mark of disrespect for their culture, right in the middle of their government. Jango hates the color on principle.
His Westars are here, too, thank the Ka'ra , and though the power packs are as damaged as his armor systems are, there are plenty of replacements to be found here. He pulls back a sheet of plastic, checking to see if there's anything else useful in this armory. He pauses when he sees the stack of thermal detonators and explosives.
So, their kidnapping isn't the only plan these terrorists have. He checks the dead men's commlinks on reflex, but it's more of the same: no long-range signal, and gibberish exchanged between them.
Kenobi looks over his shoulder and sucks in a breath. "We should get out of here. They'll be here any second, they'll have us trapped, and a firefight around all of this sounds like a terrible idea."
Jango weighs a thermal detonator in his hand for a moment, considering. Then he puts it back down. The last thing he wants to add to this fucked up situation is a cave-in. He follows Kenobi back into the tunnel, hurrying towards the cavern with the lake. They soon hear footsteps.
Kenobi glances back at him, raising an eyebrow.
There's no cover here; no tactical advantage. They're pinned down. Jango sighs. "Do your thing, Jedi."
Kenobi, to his credit, doesn't rub in the fact that Jango can't come up with a better plan than having him rush the enemy, in spite of their earlier argument about it. He just nods and sprints off. Jango hangs back as they exit the tunnel and enter the larger space near the aquifer. The enemy combatants have arranged themselves in a rough semicircle around the entrance of the tunnel and begin firing immediately as Kenobi shows himself.
Kenobi doesn't even pause. He ignites his lightsaber and deflects the shots as he races directly towards the enemy line, throwing himself into an impossibly high somersault that puts him behind it. It's enough to draw their attention, and the enemy breaks formation.
Blue flashes, a scream sounds, and the scent of burning flesh fills Jango's nose. That smell… He jolts, every muscle tensing, pulse pounding in his ears. His breath comes fast. The battle rages around him in a wash of sound and color. Biting cold nips at his fingers and toes, his boots sliding in the drifts of snow as he frantically tries to find Myles, Silas, anyone. The hum of the Jedi's plasma sword is loud in his ears, and he automatically aims his pistols at its source. His people are dying, and he knows who to blame.
"Jango Fett, do you remember who the enemy is?" the Jedi shouts at him, deflecting his bolts to the side and putting one of Jango's people in between them.
It's such a ridiculous question, it almost gives him pause. Jango tries to circle around, to regain a direct line of fire, but the Jedi circles with him. There's a severed arm on the ground, blackened rather than bloody. The smell of roasting flesh still clings, tainting the air. Myles was cut in half. Where is his body?
One of Jango's people suddenly turns and fires on him, then another tries to rush him. Taken aback at the betrayal, he's left relying on muscle memory, stepping to the side and elbowing their helmet to knock them down. It's the clatter of armor on bare rock, not snow, that brings him back to himself. He's not on Galidraan, and these Mandalorians aren't his Mandalorians.
He swallows hard and redirects his aim. That hasn't happened to him since he overcame the spice addiction. On the other hand, he's never fought on the same side as a Jedi before, except that one time when they were rescuing Cody on Kessel. But he'd kept himself far away from Kenobi's battle with the White Queen, and – no one cut off any limbs then.
"Back with me?" Kenobi inquires on his way past, as he twirls to evade a shot and slices off someone's hand at the wrist.
The smell of it and the scream that follows is enough to nearly send Jango spiraling again. He ruthlessly forces his mind under control, focusing on the here and now. He picks off the nearest soldier with a single shot, and his hand does not shake.
Now that he's seeing clearly again, he can tell they're not doing well. The enemy is regrouping, recovering from the surprise of Kenobi's attack, and the fact that Jango has been dividing Kenobi's attention has done them no kindnesses. The numbers aren't in their favor, either; Kenobi has taken out three of their adversaries and Jango two, but there are still nine left, and who knows how many more on the way. To avoid the increasing barrage of plasma bolts, he ducks behind Kenobi, letting him cover them both with the lightsaber.
Kenobi glances over his shoulder, his weapon never pausing in its protective moving shield. They're being driven back towards the water. "Is swimming an option? How long do you think the lake goes on for?"
Jango almost laughs at the stupidity of that suggestion. Of course, Kenobi didn't grow up in armor. "We'd sink like a stone before we got anywhere. You need a jetpack to swim for longer than a few minutes with armor on, and mine is fried."
"Right." Kenobi is forced another step back, Jango moving backwards with him. They're almost to the water's edge. Kenobi's protection is holding, but it's also keeping Jango from firing, and putting them in a deadlock, neither side gaining much ground.
Jango wonders, with distant ache in his heart, whether Kote will arrive here in force, only to find their bodies. He's not afraid of death, but it's too early to leave his children alone in the galaxy. Boba and Omega are so young, still.
Kenobi glances at him. "There's a pattern to my deflections, Fett. You can learn to fire through it, if you time it right. Rex and Cody managed it in just a few practice sessions."
"This isn't a practice session," Jango grits out, but he takes aim, nonetheless.
Before he can figure out the supposed pattern, one of their attackers gasps, and a hush begins to fall. One by one, hands holding blasters drop, and helmets tilt up. The rain of plasma bolts peters out. It's as if he and Kenobi have been forgotten. One of the enemy warriors takes a step back, nearly stumbling over their own feet. Another soldier follows, their blaster dropped to the floor and forgotten. A third one is the first to break and run.
Jango doesn't need a mystical power to tell him there's something behind him that he's not going to like. He turns to look at the lake and can't help but fall back a pace, himself.
A scaled head has risen soundlessly out of the water, so large that he can barely comprehend it, can't envision how big the rest of this creature would have to be for it to make sense. Sharp, curving tusks glisten in the mine lights.
Osi'kyr8.