Ordo
The warship slipped through hyperspace with a practiced ease, its hyperdrive creating a soft hum that echoed round the battle worn hull. Its armour still bore the carbon scoring of its recent battle, emergency integrity shields active in some parts of the ship, while in others crudely welded plates were keeping the ship space worthy. Even those with only the barest knowledge of void warfare would be able to see that the ship had been in a hellish battle, but such was only the beginning.
The ship was old in form, yet advanced in everything else, its systems, weapons and defences all refitted and revamped a hundred times over. It has seen war, fighting for three different factions under multiple different masters during two galaxy spanning wars, and no matter how damaged it was, no matter how battered and bruised it became, it always left the fight, sometimes limping, sometimes fleeing, but nothing and no one had ever caught up to it to make the wounds done to it a permanent addition.
Spike smiled at this, softly running his hand along the command chair of Harmony, remembering everything he had put the ship through, and everything she had done for him.
The ship was decidedly empty after the battle that had nearly proven to be its end, the destruction of the Star Forge and the end of the Jedi Civil War a calamitous event, but once more, she had come through it. With the battle concluded and the war won, Spike’s forces, the underbelly of the galaxy, had been set loose on their own, freed from the organisation Spike had implemented to aid the Republic. Some of the larger and more ancient ships, those Spike had always considered an intrinsic part of the Fireshot Fleet, had been returned to the mighty station, droid or skeleton crews taking them home, but the majority had been kept by Spikes warriors, granted to them for exceptional service. The Republic had honoured his decision, the Republic drawing up Letters of Marque for each ship and their captain, signed and ratified by none other than the Supreme Chancellor himself. With a single stroke, they were pirates and outlaws no more, now considered privateers in the eyes of the Republic, free to continue their way of plunder and treasure, so long as they confined their activities to the Republic’s enemies or those unaffiliated with the Empire. It was a reasonable request, and in a stroke, the Republic had secured itself against the predilections of the scavengers who so often picked at the winner as much the loser after any conflict.
In this, Harmony had of course been different, the vessel belonging to Spike and no other. He had liberated her in the Mandalorian Wars, flown her against her own kind before taking the fight to Revan and his Sith Empire. And now? Well, now he was flying it back to its people. The irony of its return was not lost on Spike.
“I remember this ship,” Canderous spoke as he entered the bridge, the Mandalorian having been pacing the corridors alone since they had left the Lehon system. “You took this above Ranox, didn’t you?”
Spike still smarted at the name and the memories it brought, just another planet to add to the long list of ones that brought back unsavoury memories alongside Maryx Minor, Dxun and Graola, all the places where his shame or agony was first and foremost. Instead of answering Canderous’s question, Spike opted to simply nod instead.
“Thought so,” Canderous nodded. “A prototype if I remember, offered to the Mandalore in an act of fealty. He was fond of it if I remember, your theft put an end to that. Imagine what we could have done with more ships like.”
“Probably still lost,” Spike muttered. “It wasn’t ships you lacked, Canderous, it wasn’t manpower or weapons or training. You beat the Republic, you didn’t match the Jedi, that’s all. Physical weapons wouldn’t have changed that.”
“You’re right there,” Canderous agreed, unphased by talk of losing the war. “We should be coming up on our exit point shortly.”
As if on queue, the navicomputer beeped twice, before the ship slowed drastically, Spike and Canderous swaying forward, though remaining firmly in place with practiced skill. The blue spiral of hyperspace faded instantly, replaced instead with the cold black of space and, hanging in the void before them, a single word.
“Good to see home?” Canderous asked, not looking round as the door opened a second time, Seugtai walking in to stand beside Canderous, the older Mandalorian having also removed his helmet, his leathery green skin standing out beside Canderous’s own skin tone. It was so easy to forget that Seugtai was not a human, likely standing as one of the last of the taung, the original species of the Mandalorians.
So many of his kind had been killed over the years, unnumbered at the hands of the Republic and the Jedi now Spike came to think about it. Reports stated that during the Great Sith War, the vast majority of the Mandalorian horde had been of their kind, and so they had taken the largest number of casualties. By the time of the Mandalorian Wars, they were a smaller percentage, still comprising a vast portion of the Mandalore’s new army, usually as veterans and high ranking officers, placed in the vanguard of the assaults against the Republic. By the time of Malachor V, so few of their kind were left, most believing they had been wiped out, or at least driven to an inevitable extinction. Spike never brought it up, Seugtai giving no outward impression that he was alarmed by his own race's demise. Spike wasn’t sure if that was just bravery on the part of his friend, or if Seugtai simply didn’t see himself as Taung as much as he did Mandalorian. If it was the latter, then Spike supposed he could understand the ease with which Seugtai carried being one of the last Taung. His people’s creed would live on, their legacy would endure, and now, Spike was a part of that, Seugtai’s people growing once more, even as his race dwindled.
“We need to address the Pryss in the room,” Moonstone cut in suddenly, appearing beside Spike. “I don’t know how much of Spike’s physical appearance was known amongst the Mandalorian ranks during the war, or his...specific roles against your,” she paused before correcting herself, “our people.”
Seugtai knows I can change my appearance, take a different name, hide my lightsaber if that is what’s demanded, but...” Spike trailed off, having picked up where Moonstone left off, feeling a pit open in his stomach as the question he had avoided was aired at last.
“Hiding who you are is part of being a Mandalorian,” Canderous mused. “Behind the helmet you could be anyone, but we never force the destruction of one's past. We Mandalorians do not hold grudges easily, and while some may have hated you were you to still stand as a Jedi and part of the Republic, you have joined our way now. That will count for a lot.”
“A lot, but not everything,” Seugtai pointed out. “Canderous and I both know much about your service record, and I think more would, if it wasn’t for...Ranox,” Seugtai almost spoke the word apologetically, looking at Spike before continuing. “We, Canderous and I knew your name as Spike, the Mandalore himself did, as did other high ranking officers, but most simply referred to you as the Beast of the Republic. You’ll stand out regardless of what you call yourself or what colour your scales are, people will put two and two together sooner rather than later.”
Spike nodded in agreement. “Advice then?”
“Come clean, or at least, partially clean,” Canderous answered. “Don’t lie, but keep some of the darker elements out of the public light. You were a Jedi, you were a Republic General, now you’re not, you have joined our creed and that should be the end of it.”
Canderous let out a clipped laugh before continuing.
“It’s strange, normally we Mandalorian’s take in members of defeated civilisations, offering them a chance to fight with us after we have already defeated them in battle. Not many come from a victor to join our ranks.”
“I aim to surprise,” Spike chuckled. “This is either going to go well, or really, really horribly. I hope my lucks changed.”
“You and me both,” Moonstone laughed. “I’ll stay quiet for a while, Spike. Don’t want to add even more glue into the mix.”
With that, Moonstone faded from sight once more, Canderous and Seugtai taking up seats on the bridge, the three working in tandem with the droid brain of the ship to bring it into land. Were the Harmony any larger, such a landing could have proven perilous, Spike had heard of old Command Ships or Inexpugnable’s being destroyed under their own weight when landing as repulsorlift engines failed, gravity destroying the vast behemoths or else permanently grounding them. The Harmony however was far smaller, able to support its own weight with ease, allowing such landings in the powerful warship, or even allowing for in-atmosphere support without too much difficulty on behalf of the crew.
As they approached, Canderous worked the comms system, exchanging clipped words in Mandalorian that Spike struggled to follow along with, but understood the general meaning behind, announcing who they were and their intentions, ensuring that their arrival wouldn’t cause any issues, that clearly coming later when they saw who the ship belonged to.
Spike didn’t have long to ruminate on the upcoming trials, the ship touching down in a clearing just outside a small village. As Spike looked out, he found himself shocked by what he saw, having been imagining brute architecture and defence platforms dotting the area, but instead being greeted with an idyllic looking township, huts and yurts worked into the edge of the forest, small pillars of smoke rising from each of them. Throughout the town moved the people of Clan Ordo, the mish-mash of species astounding Spike. Humans, Rodians, Twi’leks, Togruta, Trandoshans and more besides.
What struck Spike the most however was how few were in traditional Mandalorian armour, such an important part of the cultural heritage of the Mandlorians. Some still were, a few wearing Neo-Crusader plate, others wearing older armour that conformed to the ancient Crusader patterns, but far more simply wore more generic armour, Spike spotting armour of Echani or Cinnagar make.
“We still have enough suits for the population,” Candrous caught Spike’s eye as he looked through the viewscreen, “but it doesn’t do to have every member armoured at all times, not with the Republic breathing down our necks every five minutes ensuring we hold to the truce. If we move as a Clan, we armour up, if we move as individuals, then to hold to the truce we usually forgo our armour. Just yet another thing Revan forced on us that we shall overcome.”
“You don’t hate him, do you?” Spike asked, his own mood darkening at the thought of Revan, now redeemed and serving the Jedi once more.
“Of course I don’t,” Canderous spoke as if such an answer was obvious. “He defeated us in battle, we longed to find an opponent who could best us. I’ve fought against Revan, I’ve fought alongside Revan reborn, and I can say now there is no one I respect more.”
“Daylight's burning,” Seugtai cut in. “Come on, the clan will want to see us, I haven’t been back in some time, much has probably changed and I’d like to see what exactly those changes are.”
With that, Seugtai left the bridge, heading towards the exit of Harmony, Spike and Canderous following after him. Mentally preparing himself, Spike slowed down just enough to be behind Canderous, securing his helmet in place before exiting the ship and heading into the village of his new Clan.
A large crowd had already gathered at the bottom of the ramp, both Canderous and Seugtai being welcomed with open arms, other Mandalorians clearly recognising the pair and celebrating their return. As Spike exited however, new whispers started up, looking at the new warrior with interest and suspicion.
Before Spike could say a word, Seugtai spoke, his helmet amplifying his voice so all could hear.
“We bring with us a new convert, one who has taken his first steps upon our way. I have taken him under my own tuterledge, I can vouch for him as a brave warrior who fought against the Sith from the very beginning of this latest war. He knows our ways well enough, I am proud to call him Ordo. Speak your name, so all may know it.”
Spike froze for a moment, caught like a bantha in a speeders headlights, before raising his own voice.
“My name is Spike,” he spoke carefully, before closing his eyes and continuing, knowing there would be no return from what he was about to say. “What Seugtai says is true, I fought the Sith, and was honoured to fight alongside Seugtai in conflict, it was not my first, nor my first brush with your kind.”
He took one final, deep breath, before continuing.
“At the start of the Jedi Civil War, I was a Jedi Master and a General of the Republic. Before that, I fought in the Mandalorian Wars alongside Revan from the wars beginning to Malachor V. Even before that, I fought your kind in the Great Sith War, locking blades from Empress Teta to Coruscant itself. Your people have stood as my adversaries for as long as I can remember, the Jedi and the Republic pitting me against your kind, and for a while I thought it just, we were right and you not. I see differently now, Seugtai has helped open my eyes, and I hope that despite my past, I can learn what it means to be one with your people, to be Mandalorian.”
For a moment, none spoke, Spike feeling his nerves rising as he saw the number of weapons in the crowd, each warrior possessing at least a blaster, most having far more. Dimly he remembered something Seugtai had said once, ‘Weapons are my religion’, and see this group now, Spike believed it all the more. Finally, just as Spike was about to speak again, another voice rose from the crowd, Spike not seeing who spoke it.
“Cin vhetin.”
The words were unmistakably in Mandalorian, but he didn’t know their meaning, opening a private channel to Seugtai with a thought.
“White field,” Seugtai said without prompting. “Clean slate, it’s a good sign.”
Spike smiled, before speaking once more, running the words over in his mind to ensure they were correct before speaking.
“Vor talyc.”
Spike had been meaning to say a simple thank you, but as he spoke, laughter broke out in the crowd, Seugtai and Canderous joining in.
“I’m glad you accept blood, Spike,” Canderous laughed, the tension disappearing almost instantly.
Vor entye Moonstone’s voice hissed in Spike’s head, Spike repeating the words quickly, his helmet hiding his embarrassed face perfectly. “Thank you, I will not let you down.”
***
Days passed quickly as Spike soon became known throughout the village, along with his past. Most didn’t mention it, or if they did, it was to ask of his experiences in the war against their kind, seeming genuinely interested in picking the mind of a warrior who had stood against them and won not once, but twice. A few, very few but a few nonetheless, steered well clear of him, granting him only angry stares. If they knew the full truth, he’d probably be getting a lot more of those stares, Spike reasoned to himself.
As the third day dawned, Spike exiting Harmony to continue his lessons in the creed of the Mandalorians, a commotion drew his eye, following a flock of Mandalorians towards the centre of the clans village, standing at the back of the forming crowd as more warriors flocked to find the source of the commotion. They did not have to take long, Canderous striding out of one of the buildings, clan in silver Mandalorian Battle Armour, his head bare still, looking around the crowd before raising his voice.
“For too long has Clan Ordo been without a guiding voice! Ever since Alore Elgon Ordo fell at Malachor V, we have been scattered, just as the Clans as a whole have been scattered and listless without our Mandalore! That changes this day! I claim the title of Alore of Clan Ordo, let any who refute my claim step forward now, the dispute to be settled in the ways of old, as our people have done for generations!”
A hush fell over the crowd, before a familiar voice spoke up, Seugtai moving to the front of the crowd, his own helmet also removed, facing Canderous face to face.
“I stand in opposition of this claim, and claim the title for my own,” he spoke clearly, lacking some of the fire Canderous had spoken with, Spike knowing instantly that Seugtai’s announcement had not been a surprise to Canderous, the two likely planning this together.
“Then as our custom, the challenge has been issued! I have been challenged, and so I select that we shall settle this with just our blades, the rules of the Battle Circle to govern our actions.”
The effect was instant, the Mandalorians around them moving back, forming a circle around the two warriors. Hushed whispered passed through the crowd, Spike picking up some of them. Since Elgon Ordo, the Alore who Spike supposed was the leader of a single clan, as opposed to the Mandalore who ruled all of them, Clan Ordo had been governed by no one, a council of elders speaking when mediation was needed, but none possessing the drive required to step up and lead in these broken times. Canderous was different, a war hero and distinguished member of the Neo-Crusader movement. Seugtai was also a well known war hero, though of a far older war, their challenge coming as a surprise but a welcome one.
Still clad in their armour, helmets placed to one side, Seugtai and Canderous both drew proffered Beskad sabers, the single edged blades glinting in the morning sun. Without words, both warriors raised their blades, pressing the flat edge against their foreheads in a salute, preparing for the fight ahead. Spike knew enough about the Battle Circle to know that to kill inside it was considered the height of dishonour, the circle for settling disputes and duels of honour, but he still felt worry grow in the pit of his stomach as Canderous let out a roar, diving at Seugtai as the duel began.
The blades sang as they clashed into one another, sparks flying as they slid apart, Canderous following up with a elbow aimed to smash into Seugtai’s nose, the Taung barely getting out of the way in time before delivering his own strike, spinning the sword in an arc before thrusting forward, the spin forcing Canderous to dodge backwards, unable to predict exactly where the strike would come from. Pressing his advantage, Seugtai let lose a series of wise chops, Spike instantly reading the axe blows he was tying to land, perfectly executed for use with Seugtai’s normal weapon, but inefficient with the blade he now wielded.
Canderous sensed it too, stopping his retreat before surging forward, getting in close with the other warrior and delivering a brutal blow to Seugtai’s face, blood exploding from around the impact. Seugtai stumbled from the blow, canderous pressing his advantage, striking his opponents wrist with the rear of his blade, a cracking sound echoing around the village alongside a roar of pain as the bones broke, his saber dropping from his hand. Before he could do anything else, Canderous swept low, kicking his opponent's legs out from under him, before placing his blade against Seugtai’s throat.
“Yield,” he spoke the single word.
“I yield, Alore,” Seugtai intoned in turn.
As if a switch had been thrown, Canderous offered his unarmed hand, Seugtai grabbing it with his uninjured hand and allowing Canderous to pull him up.
“Are there any others who would challenge my rule?” Canderous thundered, looking around expectantly.
Some warriors looked as if they wished to step up, others glanced towards Spike, seemingly expecting Spike to challenge Canderous. He couldn’t imagine anything worse, the ways of the Mandalorians so new to him that even the prospect of leadership utterly alien to him.
A minute passed, then two, utter silence falling across the crowd before Seugtai raised his voice in a simple chant, soon taken up by every other Mandalorian.
“Alore! Alore! Alore!”
Without even realising he was doing it, Spike found himself cheering along with the others, his voice rising to join the chorus of Clan Ordo.
“Alore! Alore! Alore!”
“My people,” Canderous roared, raising his own voice and instantly quieting all others as they listened attentively. “For too long since the Mandalorian Wars, our kind have languished, listless and without a leader to unite behind! The days of the Mandalorian Wars are over, but the days of the Mandalorian shall rise forever more! I swear to you as your new Alore, that Clan Ordo will stand strong once more, but more than that, I pledge this day that it is we, not any other, who shall find the Mandalore’s mask, hidden by Revan at the end of our great war. I swear this as your Alore, that I shall become Mandalore, and I shall lead Clan Ordo back to the heights of which we have occupied in our long and storied past! Haat! Ijaa! Haa'it! Truth! Honor! Vision!”
The roars of the Mandalorians returned in full force now, Spike joining them instantly, whooping in support of his new Alore and now, his future Mandalore. Part of him felt odd, cheering for a new Mandalore when he had stood in opposition of the prior two Mandalore’s but that was then, he ruminated. He had stood against those Mandalore’s as a Jedi and as a member of the Republic, opposing them was common sense. Now however, standing here, listening to Canderous reignite the fire in a people on the verge of defeat, he finally understood just what a Mandalore meant to the Mandalorians, not just a military leader or supreme overlord. A Mandalore represented hope in its purest, most basic form. Hope of victory, hope of unity, hope for the future. For the first time since before the Spike had marched to war against the last Mandalore, Spike felt an odd sensation, one he had chased for years since losing it, one he had attempted to claim was filled by the Republic itself or by his Syndicate.
Spike felt like he belonged somewhere, instantly knowing that while he had allowed this feeling to slip from him once before with the Jedi, he would never allow such to vanish again. No matter where his path took him, no matter what roads he walked in his uncertain future, Spike was proud to call himself Mandalorian.
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hes finally found his place...
Fuck yeah so keen Spike gonna build mad rep with the Mandos
Darn wish I could like and fave again.
I'm glad that he found somewhere to belong finally.
In this galaxy, it is good that Spike has finally found a place to belong. That is good indeed, and I know that his new place will have considerations of joining him should he ever need the help. Funny how Spike went from a Jedi to now a Mandolorian in all the time he's been in this galaxy... and you know what? I think they are going to be one of his greatest allies in some of the upcoming conflicts maybe even they'll be his friends for long enough to help him see his home and... then help him one more time in it.
I'd note with mild amusement that "Blood-taker" would be a better nickname than "The Beast".
God, this is such an ambitious story! I love the scale and world-building you've made here, and can't wait to see more.
I feel like a dragon would fit in much better with Mandalorians then Jedi
this will either end terribly, with the clan destroyed, or he will actually succeed