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Offshore Job	By : dschinny Category: Star Wars (All) > General Views: 3310 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Star Wars movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 1.2 – Return to Kamino (Day 26)
Jango left the ground-to-air-communication to his co-pilot and concentrated on maneuvering in the weak areas of the radar until Vau had linked controls with him, and the TIVs where flying close enough to appear as a single dot on the screens of the planetary flight control. After the last polite exchange in native language, Tomoe had grown silent while the TIV’s nose pushed through the cloud sheet over the bronze mirror of the sea below and headed for the higher atmosphere. First the deep blue and then the velvety blackness of emptiness surrounded them.
“Are you sad? Why?”
“I’m thinking.” Tomoe felt drained, as if she had taken a written exam and didn’t know if she had passed yet. Her right hand and shoulder felt cramped. Well, she had written a lot but that didn’t explain the tightness in her throat. Jango told her he loved her. Wasn’t that enough? What did it mean at all? She had given up a big deal, but at least she could pride herself to have done a little something. “Isn’t it funny how things I have put off for so long now become reality in no time?”
“You were made for it. You are a beautiful woman.” Jango realized his compliment sounded a little choppy, but he planned to show her his full appreciation when they came home.
He was talking of the twins; she had been talking of her re-construction project that would be completed in her absence. She wouldn’t see results for years. Jango was right; she had to get back to the here-and-now. The assassins’ chest plate pressed on her collar bones, not to mention the other places it pinched or bulked. It had been a statement to Gilamar that she was ready to take on the resol’nare, but it wasn’t made for her or any woman or to sit in a chair. “I’ve got to wear armor, haven’t I?”

Jango agreed without hesitation. “Nothing but top-grade beskar, too. Only the best for my girl... and a sturdy pair of boots to start with.”
He transferred his calculation of the hyperspace-jump to the other TIV before they split their formation to safe distance for interstellar travelling, then he pulled back the lever. Stars became streaks over the cockpit screen.
To her, his voice sounded husky and possessive and with the rapidly spreading distance to what she knew, it was all too much. She unbuckled the seat belt and soundlessly went for the picnic basket pass dinner around and to keep at least her hands busy. The familiar scents and tastes were soothing.

Tomoe had napped in the co-pilot’s chair during most of the hyperspace jump and Boba was sound asleep on the crew-bench, kept safe by a couple of seat belts, wrapped in the blanket that had hidden her weapons from the resort’s chauffeur. From here on, she would be respected for armor and weapons and her abilities to wield them, while the image of the pampered, well manicured lady faded away. Would she miss it? She decided that she had other things on her mind.
It was hours past midnight when they arrived in the Tipoca airspace, a night storm shaking the vessel violently until the TIVs dove through a force field and into the white calm of a pristine hangar. Jango shut down the engine, crossed the flight-deck and readied an anti-grav-slide. Conversing briefly with Vau and Gilamar in rapid Mando’a, he left it to Tomoe to unload her limited amount of luggage. Better not let her stray and see the bacta-tank as her alternative homecoming.
Content that his cyar’ika carried not only her sheathed halberd in her hand but also a serious piece like the slug-thrower over her shoulder, he picked up Boba, sat the sleeping kid on his hip and put the slide into follow-mode. Explanations to the other Cuy’val Dar could wait till fall-in. Their appearance made clear to any by-passer that he was a proud father coming home with his missus. Details would follow after a good night’s sleep.
Was he expecting her to move in with him at once? Tomoe wondered. She had agreed to go back, she was no longer scared by his physical approach, but they were not an item, not officially at least. He told her he loved her, but that she shouldn’t trust him. Never mind, that was a long way to go. She chewed on the crack on her lower lip the sea monster had left. What would the others think of her? That Fett had punched his slave girl back in line to screw her at will while she jumped at his command... and others’, come to that? There, Fett moved past her own tiny flat in full stride. It seemed that the possibility of objections never crossed his mind. She could not throw a tantrum on the corridor, but she could not let him overrun her like that again.
Jango could feel her hesitance and anxiety and remembered the eyebolts were still in the walls of the living room and master bedroom. ‘Oups.’ He halted the slide in front of their door, unlocked it and did the one thing that would divert Tomoe’s attention sufficiently for quick adjustments: passing mommy their sleeping little schemer. She barely managed to lean her pole arm into the corner inside the door before the small one’s arms closed around her neck in half sleep.
‘Gotcha’ Jango grinned as she supported the black mop of curly hairs against her jaw and moved on to Boba’s room. He pushed the anti-grav-slide through the corridor in front of him before he unlatched his helmet and corrected his lapses with the eye-bolts quickly. He stored his armor and the tools and got ready for bed.
Strangely, Tomoe did not resurface to brush her teeth. When he came looking for her, the black formal jacket and skirt pants were neatly folded over the back of a chair, the chest plate on the seat, the slug thrower leaning next to it. Her pair of swords was reunited on the night stand. Cin’ciri had curled up around Boba with her back to him. The two of them had their traditions, alright.
Damn.

Jango went to sleep in his own bed which appeared larger and emptier than ever. But he had to admit that he was a bit tired of night after night sleeping in a pilot-seat or keeping up his attention around the clock because the only thing parting him from unknown enemies were paper-screens and wooden walls which he could kick down without a run-up. Next time they shared their passion, they would enjoy more privacy. He looked forwards to that and yawned with the calm of a sated predator.
He woke at the usual time, luxuriated in a leisurely stretch, flung the sheets aside, and, still in the nude, padded to the bathroom to make himself presentable, a fresh body-glove over his arm. No fatigues - when he was to introduce Tomoe formally at fall-in, full beskar’gam was called for.
Apparently, Tomoe shared his opinion, when she appeared in the tunic and short pants she slept in and passed him on the way into the living room with a low “good morning”. No kiss? She did not unpack or store things in the closet of master bed-room, either. At least five twileks-dancers could have dressed for their modesty in the fresh set of undies that she retrieved from a bundle on the slide before she vanished in the bathroom.
The door locked from the inside with a decent click.
Jango armored up in the storage with a little sigh. Ten minutes later she re-appeared spick and span - including lipstick - and left the bathroom to Boba while she went back into the kids’ room. He watched her knot the skirt-pants around her mid in speedy routine and strap on the chest-plate. She re-adjusted her knife, pushed the saber under her belt horizontally and reached for the jacket.
He stepped in, painfully aware that he could not kiss her without smearing her makeup... ‘that’s worse than wearing a helmet,’ he reasoned, “Gimme a hint, cyar’ika, what did I do?” he nudged his knuckles between hers. She did not withdraw her hand but everything about her was restless and ready to go. Thankfully, she didn’t try to be invisible any longer. “C’mon, make yourself at home, come for me...”
“Nothing... I’ll get used to it... but how can I expect people to respect me... when I lounge around in your bed all morning... like a common whore?” her voice was low but that scolding pitch broke through anyway. It dawed and –shame- she had to get out of her lover’s place at once or she would be caught in the act.
“No,” he protested as the door buzzer went, “We talk... later.” he bit out. He was afraid she had chosen the worst moment to start bitching, but she continued to organize the sleeves of her jacket silently while he answered the door. It wasn’t Vau to see them to the training grounds, but Skirata, accompanied by a clone, who...
Tomoe took a measured step forwards and suddenly there was no air left in the free space inside the door, no area the lightning bolt of her blade could not strike if she drew blank. Not from the looks of him but from his body language she could tell this was not Mereel. Prudii? Unlikely, even in defense against an – assumed - assault, Mereel’s brother had kept his cool. This kid was seething in anger underneath the composure that was probably enforced by his father. Nevertheless, his eyes burned in a dark fire.
“Good morning, Kal.” She said amicably and kept Boba behind her, her left thumb perched on the hand-guard of her saber. It spoke for Skirata that he tried to resolve their issues in a smaller circle. While Gilamar’s grief was based on a semi-public loss of face that she could make up for by a public excuse, her problem with Kal ran deeper. She had actively threatened and hijacked him and she could not say without lying that she felt sorry. She had done so to stay alive when he had failed to guarantee for her safety first-place. Both of them knew that the deal had been an illusion from the start, but a lengthy, one sided excuse would make the degradation worse.
Since Skirata made no move to introduce the boy, Tomoe continued to speak, “I trust you returned home safely?”
“Barely.” Skirata’s blue eyes were icy, his right arm stretched along his body. Their deal was off. He was here to see if Fett had managed to find a solution during his trip. If so, he had to make sure that Ordo didn’t do anything stupid while he wasn’t looking. Junior was even angrier than him, held back not by command but by trust in his father’s experience and reason only. If this woman gave his family trouble again, Kal would put her to rest, no matter if she had had a bad day or a hard youth. No matter what fancy garments and weapons she had picked up on the way - nobody hurt his sons.
Tomoe felt no urge to find out if Kal could drop his knife quicker than she could draw her sword. Her focus came to rest on the fine muscles over his collarbones that would have been hidden by his jacket if he wasn’t keeping his other arm between his son and the entrance. She would know if he started on her. She let him see that she knew.
“I am sorry to hear that,” she emphasized the fact that she thought very highly of him. She did not want Kal or his sons to be hurt, but if he forced a devil’s choice on her, she would always choose her own kids.
“Not your fault that Slave I didn’t unlock full weapon controls.” Yes, he remembered she had neither been brutal nor taken chances that forced him into an attack of opportunity. She had taken a chance just to let him go home to his kids safely. He couldn’t blame her for that, nor blame her for Mereel’s suffering Vau’s and Ward’s brutality. The question was – would it happen again because of her? Or would she play an active part it putting things right? “Now, do we have to take that hull apart looking for an IED?”
“Just a faint,” and quite a successful one, but she wouldn’t linger on that. “How is Mereel?”
“Trying hard to look fit to fight...” – ‘oh,’ there went her hope to turn the conversation into a more positive direction, “...since Ward and Vau threw him into a holding cell two weeks ago.”
“That could necessitate another readjustment,” Tomoe agreed and welcomed his ‘you’re not the only one who made mistakes’ with a nod, “I’ll do what I can whenever it suits his schedule.”
Unbroken, sharp, ladylike, defending her young. Kal gathered her state of mind. Nervous - which was understandable - but with an all new air about her, a deeper confidence that he could not account for. Jango seemed to be a little irritated, but the strings between him and Tomoe appeared stronger than ever. It wasn’t all possessive pride. Beside his trademark real-time risk-gain assessment, Kal saw respect and a struggle for understanding as well. Tomoe had built her means of defense, but at the same time, the necessity to fight had faded.
Being a failure himself when it came to conjugal life, he could see that this relationship wasn’t a bed of roses. But the utter madness he had witnessed, the misery and deceives were aired out. ‘Give them a chance,’ Kal decided. “I’ll relay your offer,” he said with a nod. His shoulder relaxed noticeably and he slumped a little, shifting weight off his broken ankle.
“Good.” Jango nodded. “First day out of house arrest, Ordo?” he inquired over Tomoe’s head. She wondered how he managed to tell the clones apart. The boy inclined his chin stubbornly. “Your home-work was useful to sort things out.” Ordo lifted his head at the rare compliment and Jango wasted no time to top it up with a serious warning. “They are sorted now - tayli'bac, verd’ika?”
Ordo finally agreed, but only because it was what Kal’buir wanted. “Gar serim.” He would not give up, but he would not stand up against his dad. He had to find out what exactly clouded his father’s judgment and watch out for the next assault to resolve the Harada-case permanently. He couldn’t care less about the lippy little jerk the traitor had used to get away. He would shove Boba down the toilet again right after sending the aruetii to haran. Until then, the aruetii had a use to ease Mereel’s pain that resulted from the ruckus she had caused – while he was watching her through the scope of his DC-15.
Jango donned his helmet. Direct order was a wonderful way to hand out forgiveness. She didn’t want to spend the mornings in his bed – well, Tipoca offered plenty of options to make herself useful with the talents she had. If that earned her some public respect among the Cuy’val Dar - just the better.

“Listen up.” Jango stepped in front of the line-up with her, “This is Tomoe Harada. She’s new to military training but accomplished with blades, close combat and chiro-therapy. To get her started, she will assist Sergeant Skirata during the forenoon exercises. When you need her to perform a therapy, call her comlink – any time.” Jango let his gaze run over the audience slowly, and then raised his chin briefly. He had made clear from the start this wasn’t a hearing and so there was no discussion or protest. “Move it.”
‘That was it?’ Tomoe thought and tied her sleeves with a white strap crossing over her back. There were a lot of what-if’s on her mind as she went through the calisthenics like everybody else.
“You can start with Mereel.” Tomoe turned quickly - Kal had a way to move silently despite his limping. “I’ll pick you up after breakfast. Don’t be late,” he tasked her.
People around seemed to relax, no longer regarding her as a stray cat in a pack of dogs, merely bartering whenever the copikla silk poof’s horizontal blade would fall out of the sheath or loose balance during the exercise. Their books were at 60/40. Of course it didn’t, but Tomoe kept rolling her eyes secretly. On the other hand she had to admit that they were pretty laid back… for she had just tried to kill their boss. She wasn’t their running gag?! At least she wasn’t prancing around in a riot of colors that proudly announced ‘I’ve been a tin can.’
“Kyr ge'kaan!” While the ranks down in the theatre below halted and filed out orderly, the exercise on the platform broke up into purposeful chaos, every instructor heading in another direction. “Su’cuy.” Rav welcomed her back with a measured hand to elbow handshake. The girl looked good, a little pale maybe under the flush of the exercise on her cheeks “Shower?” – “It’s okay.” Tomoe shook her head to prevent herself from screaming over the thunder of millions of armored feet. ‘I’ll go with my folks’, she motioned.
Isabet came up behind her, slapped her back and closed the circle against colleagues who had still to make up their minds. This atin’la little inn-keeper’s mandokarla would purge the flaws of their leader the way he needed. Her proven ability to make a lot of very little would cut, slap and screw that shabla or'trikar out of Fett and put him into the right state of mind.
No use to grief for Jas’buir and others long gone in quarrels of old... while the Mando’ade rose like phoenix from ashes. They would be the avant-garde, training the elite of this revolution! Ten millions of them, lead by experienced veterans and an inspired Mand’alor were more than enough to put an end to any aruetyc banking-, mechs- and trade-federation’s separatist notions. With a couple of well placed strikes it was sufficient to take over the whole rotten-to-the-core republic. Mando’ade would no longer fight stinking aruetyc wars, from there on it would be the aruetiise who would tackle the plain jobs for those who followed the noble way of the warrior.
“Welcome home, Tom’ika – you gotta tell us! Sergeant’s room, after dinner?” Isabet proposed.
Tomoe gave Isabet a thumbs-up and hurried to return to the housing area with Jango and Boba. She hung her formal jacket to air, exchanged the sweat band and washed her face before she decided to shed the skirt pants as well and go for working pants and puttees. ‘Silk poof, huh?’ She rummaged through her little necessities box and found her massage fluid. She had no idea what exercising with Kal meant, but after two weeks, Mereel’s muscles would have cramped fiercely in unwilling support of the wrong position.

Meanwhile Jango mended his own business. Appearing unmoved and calm on the outside, his helmet com was patched into the Cuy’val Dar’s channel that was anything but silent. And he had to take his ARCs back and put them to work.
In the doc’s absence, Priest had occupied Gilamar’s time slots in the shooting range. The mere transgression on his patch alone was sufficient to stoke the conflict constantly smoldering between those two, but this time Bralor was unwilling to watch from the side line since she had been left with her own and Gilamar’s RCs on her hands, but no additional space to put them.
Confronted with the issue, Priest’s excuse was that out of pure generosity, he had accepted Vau’s RCs, but Bravo’s icy better-than-you attitude clashed with their own company’s tenet of constantly testing one’s limits to the max. Dred pretended that he couldn’t turn his back on them unless he put each squad into a separate booth - whenever they should have been in the hall for hand-to-hand exercises according to the duty roster. Rav could have put her own RCs there since she got along so well with Gilamar. How she synchronized that wasn’t his problem...
Gilamar’s ranting from the med-bay sort of proved Priest’s point. The only positive factor was that it weren’t the doc’s own boys in the ward. Vau wasn’t a happy camper, either, but Jango reckoned that Walon was saving it for the opportune moment. He could tell Priest had been waiting for years to get a chance to force Vau into a fight circle and put a dent into his Irmenu-upper-class attitude. Full circle, indeed.
“Go have a look into the med-bay before lunch, will you?” Jango mused to Tomoe on the way to the mess hall. To put the facts right was what worked best on Vau, but Gilamar probably wasn’t a 100% safe with his cyar’ika yet. “I meet you there at 1130.” Then he commed Isabet privately and asked her to smack Dred one tonight for Rav and him. “Not for you, but for Rav,” came the prompt reply with a sparkling laughter. The ol’ boy would probably enjoy that tussle enough to put off any less savory plans.
“Let’s have a really quick breakfast.” Jango plopped down beside Llats and Kal. He staked his helmet under the table with the historian’s while Tomoe and Boba had a seat. Good. The conflict between Tomoe and Llats seemed to be resolved. He knew his ARCs were well off with Kal, but he had never tried with Ward. “Me'vaar ti gar?” he asked for sitrep.
It turned out that the historian’s method to keep the kids in line was serious physical training, particular instruction and... reading. Of course he had followed Fett’s curriculum to the letter, yet he didn’t mention that he had saved them their daily ‘Born to serve the Republic’ indoctrination.
Nothing evened out the differences between his close-knit squads and the single minded ARC-buddies like sitting on the floor together in a wide circle while he told them a story of their own descent. Fett was a selfish chakaar, but Llats was convinced that he could plant seeds of his own. Fascinated boys would grow into men who gathered their own information, who would know more than others, who could make their own decisions and be strong enough to live with them.

Boba showed Tomoe how trays and dishwashing was mechanized here, and then sidled up with Kal like he did that every day. She briefly lifted her head to Jango who returned a court nod. Boba was probably better off with her this morning. She remembered what the boy had told her about the “Nulls”: There were six of them. Neither Rav nor any other Cuy’val Dar she knew had such a close, personal connection to their trainees. It looked like Jango had provided her with the most professional babysitter in town.
When she stepped past Kal’s front door, there was little difference to Rav’s quarter on the first look, but as they proceeded inside, it turned out that the inhabitants had cut through some walls to combine several apartments surrounding Skirata’s into suite, a fox’s den with several exits no doubt. Pristine black and white plastoid panels met durasteel welded on site. The place breathed the pure functionality of a control centre, and they had done a pretty good job as metalworkers.
Tomoe couldn’t make out Prudii, but she could tell Mereel apart from his brothers because of his crooked stance. He didn’t seem to be all excited to see her. “Good morning. I’m Tomoe Harada.” She greeted the whole clan. The “Su’cuy” of the young voices sounded weary all around. Her bow wasn’t answered but by one who wasn’t Mereel - hello, Prudii – now she would have to monitor positions to keep that knowledge.
“How are you, Mereel?” she asked directly since he made no move. “Would you like me to have another look at your neck?”
Kal noticed on the first beat that Ordo was taking longer to inspect his side-arm than usual, his eyes locked on their guest. “Ord’ika?” He shook his head lightly as a ‘leave it.’ He was pretty sure Tomoe could feel the blood thirst surrounding the kid, but she made no move to avoid him.
“I’m fine.” Mereel waved off her offer since she didn’t command him. ‘She better doesn’t try that right now,’ he thought with a look at Ordo.
“Alright.” Tomoe instantly knew why. They were a band of brothers and Mereel would not use what his brother hated. She was in no position to force her way in there. “You can always send for me if it gets worse.”
“Move it.” Mereel slung his deece over a shoulder and reached for the helmet. He hated to be singled out. He was in pain nevertheless and needed to withdraw into the familiar surroundings of the HUD and his brother’s voices on close-range com.

Kal took his family to the shooting range and Tomoe learned that there were even more kids requiring his constant attention like the Nulls, boys like Rav’s, organized in neat squads. What was the difference? Certainly not their precision! Both the Nulls and RC’s results walked all over her - but no problem, she told Mereel and Prudii, she was just a beginner. “Can’t remember I’ve ever been that off.” Prudii noted on the Null’s internal com channel, “...and we were to be taken for reconditioning as deviant. That’s not fair.” – “She is not like us, in case you didn’t notice.” Ordo grumbled from another box and tried to concentrate on the task at hand.
“What’s that outside your inner, Jaing?” A’den turned his head from the target. His brother shifted his weight and checked his DC-17 again, then looked up in disbelief and sighted down again. “Eleven hits with just ten shots - you can only dream of that, A’den.” Jaing gave back with a snort. Aden sighted down himself. His ten shots were all in the inner, so close together it made counting difficult. “Not mine,” he attested... They weren’t going to put such lapses on their flawless records, were they?
Two heads turned to the wall parting the booths in the shooting range - “Tomoe?!”

Kal promised to sort it out for them and made the distribution for the hand-to-hand classes, deciding to meet the problem head on. While Boba trained with Mereel to show N-7 he wasn’t up to his usual standard, he put Ordo with his nemesis. Better see what happened while both of their hands were empty than otherwise. Ignoring the change of breathing on the intercom that announced his son’s snarl, he continued to task the boys in front of him. To him, it did not matter that the neat formation fuzzed out with little Boba and Tomoe’s willowy form in the corner. To a Kaminoan, they would stick out like a sore thumb.
Ordo didn’t hesitate to plant his boot on the fact that she was an aruetii and she was not welcome to train with them let alone to his family’s home: her socked foot. ‘Ouch.’ Tomoe notified him with the dot audible. She wiggled her toes. He shrugged a shoulder ‘Suits her right,’ he hit rewind to get a more satisfying response out of her.
The second time, she could no longer blame it on a blunder on his part. “Can we stick to the moves of the exercise, please?” - “More efficiently this way.” Ordo slapped down her objection with a pout that said ‘Wimp.’ – “Expect the unexpected,” he added.
“You can hint it, but save my bones, will you? I’m not using your shortages, either.” Ordo was convinced that he had no weakness. He was bred to be the best. Next time he put his boot down, it felt like he had broken a toe. “Ordo!” He looked up at her boldly, ‘Whatcha gonna do about it?’, his boot stayed planted on her foot firmly.
Her eyes narrowed. She hated hitting children, but this couldn’t continue. She had plenty of options to flaw his exercise as well, but he was a well trained, a strong and talented opponent. ‘Leash out once and an open brawl ensues that ends in the ward for the two of us.’ She thought and wondered ‘For what?’ No matter what, she had to do it now or withdraw from training permanently.
‘What the hell do I have to do to make you kick me back?’ Ordo wondered. He was just waiting for her foot to withdraw and give it a try. It would allow him to unleash the anger eating him from the inside for weeks like a poisonous eel. If she got lucky and smacked him one - that was an acceptable price.
“Stubborn brat,” Moro sighed when woken from her nap by a lightning bolt of pain shooting through her comfortable home, “lemme lend you a hand, mommy.”
Tomoe didn’t withdraw. She didn’t kick him. She stomped her heel. The impulse was so hard he could feel it through his armored sole. He didn’t know that a mat could be kicked out from under both of his feet without a run-up... let alone up-end?! The rules of gravity kicked back in before he stopped wondering. The air was pressed out of the sandwich made from permacrete, a Null and the mat coming down on top of the pile.
“Rules do have a practical use in an exercise.” Tomoe lectured and put her sore foot down beside the other carefully at shoulder width.
Ordo scratched himself off the permacrete and scrambled out from under the up-ended mat with Aden’s helpful hands picking it up on one side, “You okay?” The action had won them the immediate attention of his other brother’s all over the hall, but it didn’t look like she would use her opportunity for further attack while he was down. “How did you do that?” Ordo inquired.
Tomoe felt crimson excitement oozing in her blood stream. “Wanna see how many I can juggle, mommy?” Moro seemed to have found a new game.
‘Thanks, maybe next time.’ Tomoe grabbed Ordo’s wrist and pulled him to his feet, shoving him back into a balanced position before she let go. “Let’s say I can kick harder than you if I choose to. Barefoot.”
Ordo’s eyes strayed briefly before A’den turned over the mat and dropped it with a sound thud. No hole in the permacrete, but he would investigate that treacherous mat later. He had the profound feeling that something in-natural was going on. Now it was his brothers coming for him as if he was needy. No, he didn’t need help – but not because of his superb fighting abilities. No, she had answered his constant provocation like a tigress flattening her young with a paw... then washes it. A wave of heat rushed over his face.
Things didn’t add up - something had slipped his notice and he really wasn’t used that - but he had learned one thing: she felt pain the same way he did. ‘Hmm...’
Standing by, Kal holstered his sidearm unobtrusively. He suspected that he had just uncovered the reason for her confidence; the girl had discovered an all new way to make up for the weight difference to Fett.
The rest of the exercise stayed uneventful drill until they went into free forms.
Ordo had plenty of experience with people who were solid muscle, none of them handicapped by useless weightlifting bulk, but he never met a person as flexible as Tomoe. He wasn’t a Dug and he didn’t plan to practice until he could lift his foot vertically over his head like she showed him in a training mock-up, but her technique was a treasure of fluent grace and detailed anatomical knowledge so he certainly filled his boots. His eidetic memory would enable him to share with his brothers later and sort out the useful content.
Kal announced a fifteen minutes break to rearrange themselves, then they would sit down for technical studies.

“C’mon, Ordo, what did she do?” Mereel caught his brother on the corridor. - “She hurt you.” Ordo found himself suddenly thrown back from his attacking spree into a defending position - “Warming up ol’ stories?” Mereel lifted his wrist. “Breaking into her home… how endearing! She helped me nevertheless, no questions asked. More than that - remember that scene with Ward? Vod, I’ve never seen Fett that pissed. You said you liked her, back then.”
“I was mistaken and you don’t owe her. They wouldn’t have taken you for questioning. You’d be fine by now.” - “Okay, on with your over-interpretation: they were looking for her and you and Kal’buir. So whose fault was it?” - “She started it.” - “Go on, make all the connections: Fett started it. And who managed to anger Fett? Who chickened-out instead of letting her do her job? Me. You wanna kill me?”
“You’re one step too far there. Remember what she did to Kal’buir?” - “That stroll? C’mon, a little fresh air doesn’t hurt.” - “An unacceptable risk.” - “So what was our brothers’ little ride-out under the kaminyc bulging eyes?” - “Harada’s just an amateur, you’ve seen her, she can’t even shoot straight.”
“I don’t plan to let her fight for me again, I just need her put my neck right. She has her uses unless you break something, ner vod. C’mon, give her a chance. What about other vode, want their reconditioning on your hands according to your logic? No? Then stop making an aiwha from a sea-mouse.”
“Alright. But she better does a good job.” Ordo gave a grumbling consent. But Mereel was already on his way and he couldn’t keep an eye on his brother without Kal’buir noticing.

Tomoe had suppressed the limp until the kids were out of sight behind the corner. Of course she wouldn’t be loved by everybody from the start, but she couldn’t fight them all? ‘Bullied by an overgrown five year old - shame on you!’ she ranted inwardly.
“Tomoe?” One of them had come back. ‘Oh, not just anyone – Mereel’, she recognized as he took off the helmet and brushed his short cropped black hair back in a copy of Kal’s behavior. “Can we fix it now?”
“Sure.” She reached for her comlink and asked Skirata to give her a break. It was granted since Kal had to give his company something to do before he could find out where she was and customize her exercises. “I just have to grab my stuff,” she added to Mereel. To perform properly, she needed to be in control of herself and her surroundings, arrange things at will and most of all: feel some peace of mind. For that, she had to take back control of her live. Now.
Mereel hesitated to enter Fett’s quarter while she tried to figure the antigrav slide, feeling very stupid again. “Do you know how this thing works?”
“Sure.” Mereel retorted. He had no doubt that she was ambidextrous and knowledgeable, yet stumbling over the simplest things like the last dikut. Was that how civvie’s were in general? Did she see him the same way? But then, he was no randomly conceived human. He was above-average, Kal told them so on a regular basis. Every record said so - if he wasn’t off the scale. The average clone’s 150% + the Null-deviance above human standards. Then why did he feel so clumsy around her?
Her quarter had been cleaned, but otherwise it looked unchanged as she called on the lights. She leaned her naginata into the corner inside the door and had a brief look around before she invited Mereel in. “Please strip to the waist,” she advised, piled her stuff on the table then locked the door. Last thing she needed was an assault by Ordo while she was pulling on Mereel’s neck. That brother’s hate really gave her the creeps.
She turned around, laid her saber in the bed and looked through her bundles for the blanket as she noted IT. “What happened to your back, Mereel-chan?” she swallowed. Several bluish green streaks were etched into his skin. “That...”
He swiftly turned to her. They were on his upper arms and waist as well. “It will go away,” his hands were up in a ‘keep out’ gesture. She recognized that defiant stare well enough to know that running against that permacrete bar was useless.
She shook out the blanket to give the boy a break then did her checks and invited him to sit. “Blockades down to... here... again.” She prodded his mid back lightly. “You know the routine – cross arms...” She gathered the kid against her chest, pulled and resolved the blockades one by one. Mereel winced at the sound, but the pops didn’t sound as load and ‘clean’ as last time. He stood and rolled his neck. “Better. Thank you,” he decided anyway and grabbed his shirt.
Tomoe studied his movement. “Better yes, but not good yet. Relax, that’s just your cramped muscles acting up. Pace around a little, then lay face down.” Her palm pointed at the padded blanket she had folded half and placed on the ground. ‘Huh?’ She gave him no details, but left for the bathroom.
This new development made him uncomfortable. He felt vulnerable with the bruises on his back. Would she touch them, ask further questions? Ordo was waiting for him to turn up soon. On the other hand, he knew that look on her face when she returned with a towel. It meant ‘I know what’s good for you, son.’ So far, she had never applied force - it didn’t look like she was going to give it a try now – but she had always kept the last word.
‘Mar’e!’ She left his bruises alone, her touch was gentleness impersonated but carried a defined firmness that told him that she knew what she was doing, that there was nothing to worry about in the world. ‘I still have a question,’ his curiosity was revived as the pain was taken off his mind. Was that normal? He hadn’t taken a painkiller. What happened to the mat in hand-to-hand practice had little to do with the physics that went for them. He was the chancier among his brothers, so he would put forwards the question they didn’t dare to ask:
“Are you a Jedi?” he blurted out under his slow steady breath.
“I’m not,” she answered him in tune with her movement. He suddenly wasn’t sure if he was asking for clarification or just to make her tell him something. Her voice it raised his hackles, it was exotic and familiar at the same time. Soft when his father’s was rough. She was different and proud of it, using paint to modify her face further. He could tell it had some effect by monitoring Kal’buir who kept looking at her differently than he acted around Rav.
“What are you?” – “I’m your therapist.” Mildly amused, she stated the obvious and finally, Mereel allowed himself to relax. She made herself smell differently, too. Of plants - he recognized that - but unlike the rotten seaweed clinging to the stilts of Tipoca-city at low tide. The foreign, alluring scent rested on his palate and penetrated his skin. He felt... funny.
Tomoe spread a towel over his shoulders and stood, shifting the weight from her sore foot on her fists. “You stay where you are for another ten minutes. Then you drink this.” she placed a glass beside him. Water, his befuddled mind recognized “Slowly... before you go for lunch,” she reminded him to ease his mind back into the here-and-now.
It didn’t look like she felt funny in any way. The contact with Ordo’s boot had just left a slight limp that disturbed her graceful movement when she moved around unpacking her bundles and storing clothing in the built-in closet of her little quarter. It wasn’t clumsy, no, it was endearing since it reminded him of Kal. Of course he would heed to Kal’buir’s advice... until he had gathered some experience on the case himself. He would mind his proper distance to the dangerous being and enshrine her incomparable image from afar, unknowingly giving it deeper influence - because there was no other.
Every woman in his life would have to compare to the exaggerated ideal forming in his mind. The one he would always want and never reach.
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Offshore Job

Chapter 1.2 – Return to Kamino (Day 26)