Mando'ad
The flight into orbit was a tense one, but unnecessarily so as it turned out, none of the Republic ships placing themselves between the shuttle and Harmony, Seugtai waiting impatiently for their arrival. In short order, they left the system, burning their engines to the limit just in case anyone changed their mind and decided to come after them.
A dozen jumps later, and they were back at Fireshot, some semblance of normality returning to the station, as normal as it could be anyway. Raids were sent out as days turned to weeks turned to months. As time passed, the truth of Zule’s words became clearer and clearer, the Sith’s tactics taking a brutal and unsubtle turn. Where once they had been utterly unknowable in their true designs, now they were as open as a book, and yet that was little comfort. Fresh ships poured forth from Malak’s empire, a seemingly never ending supply more powerful than all save the largest Republic vessels, almost all of which were bespoke prototypes, not production models, forcing the Republic to fall back on the Hammerhead Cruiser time and time again. The Hammerhead was a good ship, but time and time agin they were outmatched and outgunned.
As equally outmatched by the Sith were Spike’s own forces, the aging Battlegroup he commanded taking loss after loss even against small numbers of ships, and though they did manage to capture some vessels in return, the implications of such events happening across the galaxy led to only one conclusion;
The Sith under Malak were going to bleed the Republic dry. Their victory would not come in a single great battle, but in a hundred small blows, each one a pinprick that would eventually find the last Republic fleet crippled, and the entire Core System open and unguarded.
“How many this time?” Spike asked, not turning as the door to Fireshot’s command centre slid open.
“Three Hammerheads and a Forray,” Seugtai responded, stopping beside Spike and bringing up a holo-display, sweeping four ships to the side with an air of finality. “We managed to get away with some of the new Sith blasters, as well as a shielding prototype and three suits of armour, all undamaged.”
“The fuel?” Spike asked.
“Destroyed before we could reach it, local insurgents as far as we can tell. The entire refinery went up as soon as we entered the system, as far as we can tell, there were half a dozen vessels being refuelled at the time, I guess whoever was working against the Sith saw the ships preparing to leave and didn’t want to lose their quarry.”
“We needed that fuel,” Spike sighed, shaking his head. “At least the Sith don’t have it. Have the rifles passed out amongst the best shots, send two for analysis for weaknesses in their design and send a few to the deadrop for the Republic, same with the shield. We don’t have the resources to reverse engineer that level of technology.”
“Already done,” Seugtai replied. “Anything happen while we were away?”
“Nothing of note,” Spike shook his head. “Fire Damage in hangar 7-Delta is still being assessed but it looks like it’s extensive. I’ve been asked to stay out, something about the structural integrity of the floor no longer having the capability of bearing heavy loads.”
“In other words someone called him fat,” Moonstone snorted.
“Thanks,” Spike rolled his eyes, but couldn’t hide the smirk from his lips, a chuckle from beneath Seugtai’s helmet made it clear that he couldn’t keep himself from laughing either.
“Ensign, you have the con. If anything happens, I’ll be in my quarters.”
The devaronian nodded without a word, Spike knowing the man better than needing to get his spoken confirmation as he turned and left the room, Moonstone in tow. Seugtai watched as the pair went, before walking forward, laying a hand on the ensign’s shoulders.
“Is it progressing on schedule?” he asked.
“It is sir,” the man nodded, not looking up from his console. “Parts have been skimmed from what we’ve taken in the past few raids, anything we couldn’t get from that we have managed to purchase using standard back channels and dead drops. It’s all off the books, no one who isn’t involved will know about it.”
“Good,” Seugtai nodded. “Make sure to send repair droids to the hanger, repulsor equipped ones at that. Spike needs to stay away, if he doesn’t, I will hold you responsible, is that clear?”
“Crystal sir,” the man agreed, Seugtai smiling beneath his helmet, before turning and following after Spike.
Seugtai drew some stares as he passed, ignoring all of them as he strode the station’s hallways, many looking away if he so much as glanced in his direction. Each face he saw shared the same emotions, fear, coupled with anger, hatred and, strangely enough, confusion.
He understood the reasoning behind all of them of course, it was hard not to. Not so long ago, the Mandalorians had been where the Sith were, spreading death and terror throughout the Republic, even as far as the Inner Core, something even the Sith had still failed to do. More than one of the crew here would have lost friends, family and loved ones in that war, and Seugtai was a prime target for venting such feelings. Not that any were foolish enough to try anything of course, both his own proven skill at arms and Spike’s protection of him kept any from attempting that, but it didn’t mean they had to like him.
In all honesty, it was the confusion they displayed that amused him the most, never failing to bring a smile on behind his helmet when he caught sight of it. So many of them had forgotten that the neo-crusaders were never the true Mandalorians. A part yes, a vital part that nearly collapsed the Republic no doubt, but they were not the be all and end all. Before they were the neo-crusaders, they had just been crusaders, brought together through common bonds and the history of his species. Yet another thing that people forgot, even the rest of the Mandalorians. Before they were a culture, a people, they were a species, the Taung, and while they may be few and far between now, it was one thing Seugtai would never allow to be forgotten. It was why he had resisted the Neo-Crusader movement, why he had remained as a simple Crusader, clad in the Beskar-lined bone armour of his great ancestors. He was born into the life of the Mandalorian Crusaders, and he would die the same.
He was still musing as he reached Spike’s quarters, the doors sliding open at his approach, the droid controller programmed to recognise and permit him entry. The room was large by comparison to many on the station, as befitted the captains quarters, a large bed taking up one side of the room, looking like a score of standard military cots welded together to accommodate Spike’s size. On the far wall was a desk, numerous monitors showing various readouts, both from the station or from across the galaxy, sifted from the HoloNet, either from public knowledge or backdoor access to some lesser Republic Military installations. In truth, this information was all transmitted directly to the stations communications centre, specialists looking over, categorising and sorting all information that was gathered, but Spike was ever the control-freak, liking to keep a steady stream running at all times.
Spike wasn’t at the desk though, instead staring at the third and final wall in silent contemplation. No battle readouts crossed this wall, no tactical information of any kind. Instead, the wall was filled with weapons of every scope and calibre imaginable, from blasters to vibro-blades, a veritable arsenal of some of the most deadly weapons imaginable and yet ones that would never again draw blood.
Each weapon told a story, taken from fallen allies or vanquished foes to mark their passing, all centered around two near identical weapons that had started the practice; Tarhals’s family warblade, and Tarhal’s lightsaber, the weapon deactivated, though still functional if one was forced to use it. Beside these two blades was one of Spike’s own weapons, the vibro-glaive he had wielded when Seugtai had first met him, beside that a heavy disruptor cannon taken from a Sith Admiral. Scattered throughout the seemingly chaotic mess were lightsaber hilts, all showing the signs of battle. Seugtai could not make heads or tails of any sort of organisational structure in play on the wall, but he knew better than to question another warrior's commemorative process.
“You do your foes great honour, displaying them amongst your allies,” Seugtai noted, moving to stand beside Spike, the dragon towering over the Mandalorian. “You’ve certainly grown past the hatred you had for them when we first met.”
“Oh that’s still there,” Spike assured him, taking a deep breath before sighing, his shoulders falling as if he had just taken a weight off his back. “I hate everything they stand for, everything they fight for, I just...I can’t hate Tarhal. I’ve tried to. To rage and scream at his memory, but there’s only the good ones left, the bad ones suppressed and fading fast. He was a good man once, better than I ever was, he was my friend...my brother. He didn’t get redemption in life but I gave it to him in death, and each of those we now stand against could be the same. How much has the dark side twisted them? How much have they been lied to, or coerced into fighting for a cause not their own? They have to be fought, a certain level of hatred is required for that, but I can’t bring myself to hate the individual. Not anymore.”
“Hatred has no place in a warriors heart, Spike,” Seugtai murmured softly, placing a hand on Spike’s arm. “Anger, rage in the moment, they have their place, but hatred isn’t healthy for anyone.”
“Coming from a Mandalorian,” Spike quipped.
“Yes, coming from a Mandalorian,” Seugtai crossed his arms. “You don’t know much about our culture, do you, Spike?”
“I know enough,” Spike snorted.
“You fought us, you us as warriors,” Seugtai conceded, but I asked if you knew our culture.”
“They’re one and the same,” Spike said bluntly. “Mandalorians live to fight and fight to live.”
“We do, but we don’t hate, we don’t hold onto that. I fought the Republic willingly, and I would do so again if called upon by my Mandalore, but I bear it no ill-will. We fought, we lost, you proved yourself the stronger of us, your Revan led the Republic with even more skill than Mandalore himself, and for that we respect you.”
“I’ve met plenty of Mandalorians who’ve held grudges,” Spike huffed. Cassus for one, others in the Great Sith War. Don’t tell me no one holds grudges.”
“Grudges in war time, yes. But if I held grudges afterwards, I wouldn’t be here now would I, Beast of Ranox?”
The effect was instantaneous, Seugtai feeling a pressure around his throat in an instant, lifting him off the ground. His hand immediately reached for his blaster, but a band of magic surrounded him, pinning his arms to his side, Moonstone appearing beside Spike, her face as enraged as Spikes was.
“Never. Call. Me. That,” Spike hissed, Seugtai clawing at the invisible grip around his neck. “Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Seugtai choked, his eyes bulging beneath his helmet.
For a second, Spike maintained his grip, before relenting, his claw opening, Seugtai falling to the deck, wheezing as he caught his breath.
“The Beast of Ranox was not me,” Spike growled, bending down and looking at Seugtai. “It was my body, but Desolation is no more me than Moonstone is me. I killed him, twice over, do not liken me to him. Do I make myself clear?”
“Crystal,” Seugtai coughed, staggering to his feet. “But, the point remains, you even proved it a bit there. You hold more of a grudge against your own past than I do. I would have continued to serve alongside you even if you were this Desolation, you can’t even stand the name.”
Spike snarled, his hands balling into fists. For an instant, Seugtai thought he’d finally stepped over the line, gripping his weapons in preparation for his final defiance, but the blow never landed.
“You’re right,” Spike sighed, his fists unballing and his shoulders dropping once more, Spike slumping to the floor and looking up at Seugtai. “You know, you’d make a surprisingly good grey Jedi. All the Mandalorians would. You have a better method of compartmentalisation than most of the Order, that's for sure.”
“Now just imagine if we’d won,” Seugtai smirked, before shaking his head, removing his helmet with a hiss of depressurisation, the old warrior looking at Spike with his own eyes. “Just, actually imagine it, Spike. Take away all the hatred you have for the Mandalorians, all the notions you have about my kind, and think what the galaxy would be like.”
“Brutal,” Spike responded in an instant. “You committed enough war crimes to fill a dozen books.”
“And yet for all that, when were we cruel to those beneath our rule?” Seugtai countered. “We fought a war, and we did it without reservation. Your Republic hid in the Stereb cities at Serroco, so we destroyed them. We didn’t do that out of hatred, but out of our willingness to win. But at Tarris, when you attacked and took the world back from us, did you see cruelty? Did you see dead lining the streets for no gain? We put rebellions, but we never raised our arms against those who wished peace. We may have looked down on them, peace is not our way, but there would have been no honour in crushing those who did not fight back, so we left them alone, we put them to work. In victory, do you honestly believe that what you saw in war would have mimicked how we ran a galaxy? Mandalorians prie family and...”
“Cathar,” Moonstone said the single word, Seugtai stiffening at the word.
“Cathar,” Seugtai nodded, seemingly accepting the point Moonstone made with the single word.
“Cathar,” she repeated once more, her stern voice making it seem like she was giving a lecture to a naughty school child. “Your warriors massacred a surrendering population for no reason, they did not fight, they had been defeated, and yet you killed them all. That is the legacy of the Mandalorians.”
“That is the legacy of Cassus,” Seugtai growled, his face darkening at the man's memory. “I hated the man, what he did that day was a stain on every Mandalorian we may never wash away. If that was all we were judged against, then you are right to look on me, Moonstone. I cannot change that, I would if I could. Cassus ordered us to kill the Cathar just to prove we could. If I had been there I would have stood alongside the warrior who placed herself between Cassus and those innocents. Then maybe my helmet would have been the Republic’s rallying cry for war, because remember, Moonstone, it was seeing a Mandalorian sacrifice that brought Revan into the war, he saw her stand against Cassus and took up her calling. Cassus was the cancer, Mandalore the Ultimate gave him too much power and fell under his influence and became a cancer himself. The Mandalorian people, what we are at our core, died that day with that woman, but we will rise from her memory, not that of Cassus Fett.”
He spat the last word, clear venom in his eyes at the memory of the dead Field Marshal.
For a long while, the trio remained in silence, Spike still propped up against the wall, Seugtai moving to sit on the chair in front of the monitor screens, while Moonstone disappeared, reappearing a moment later laid on the bed. Seugtai considered asking her if she actually could feel the bed or if she had just appeared there for show, but decided that the answer would probably just heard his head, as it always did when she tried to explain magi-physics to him.
Finally, Spike broke the silence.
“We’re one hell of a trio, aren’t we?” he chuckled darkly. “An ex-Jedi turned pirate, an old Mandalorian, and a magical apparition of my mother. Sounds like the start of a bad joke.”
“Definitely,” Moonstone agreed. “A Jedi, a Mandalorian and a pony walk into a bar. The Mandalorian says, “It sure is hot in here”, so the pony turns to the Dragon...”
“And says “shut your mouth”,” Seugtai finished with a smirk. “Definitely a bad joke. Best ones always are though.”
Once again, the trio lapsed into silence, before finally, Seugtai stood up, seemingly mentally preparing himself for what he was about to say.
“Now you need to promise not to blow up at me over what I’m about to say,” he looked down at Spike, Spike’s face darkening as he spoke, pushing himself to his feet once more.
“I really don’t like it when conversations start that way you know,” he muttered, before nodding, “go on then.”
“You’re a broken warrior, Spike,” Seugtai began, Moonstone letting out a shrill laugh of her own and cutting him off.
“I think we all know that one.”
“True,” Seugtai continued. “You’re a broken warrior Spike. You can fight, clearly, but you’re fast running out of things to fight for. You have a singular ideal, to preserve the Republic, but deep down, you know that’s not going to be enough forever.”
“It’s all I’ve held up until now,” Spike countered. “Served me well enough for the past few decades.”
“You were a Jedi then,” Seugtai pointed out. “You had a code, your grey code I believe? Emotion, yet peace. Ignorance, yet knowledge. Passion, yet serenity. Chaos, yet harmony. Death, yet the Force. They were something for you to hold to. Something for you to anchor yourself to, and while you still hold to them, without the order behind it, they’re words, they’re not enough.”
“You’re right, I don’t like where this is going,” Spike muttered, Seugtai ignoring him as he pressed on.
“Ba'jur. Beskar'gam. Ara'nov. Aliit. Mando'a. Mand'alor. Six tenants, six words that define my people and our culture.”
“I don’t speak Mandalorian well, but I understood “armour” and “Mandalore”, Moonstone mused.
“Education, armour, self-defense, tribe, or family, language, leader, or Mand’alor. They’re the tenants of the Resol'nare, something we teach to every Mandalorian.”
He paused, but he had committed now, the next words falling like a hammer.
“I believe you should learn them Spike, learn what they are and what they mean. I think you should learn what it means to be a Mandalorian.”
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Was i first to read this chapter? Cool.
Good chapter btw.
10392617
First to comment yes, at best you can be second to read after me :P
I like where this is going
Bajur is Education? Spike definitely got enough of that from Twilight.
10392815
That he did, though through no fault of her own, Twilight didn't know much about Mandalorian education XD
This is the way
I did not see that twist coming. But I'm sure there is some irony in becoming the thing you once hated.
u might want to use a semi colon or two through the Mando Six Tenets, they can act as 'super commas' in certain circumstances...other than that, i think Aung said it best "when we reach our lowest point is when we are open to the greatest change..."
Nice! Spike definitely needs some direction after everything that happened. Sure "Against the sith army" is something, but like he said, it's not enough. From abducted and indicted into the jedi order, to a rebellion against the mandalorians, twice, to a prisoner of the empire he fought so hard to protect, to a cybernetic badass fighting the sith and his brothers, driven mad from the dark side.
He has been through so much with a single motive, and it has finally worn thin.
I welcome the change to "Spike, The Mandalorian"
I look forward to the next chapter. He's going to be great!
10393343
Not a bad shout, will make the changes in a bit
10393917
Nothing wrong with on the nose stuff :P
By which he means they are all him.
Please download Grammarly to fix your spelling mistakes. Otherwise, this was a good chapter.