A Match for the Mandalore

Jennet

Buying a spaceship is a pain in the ass; don’t let anyone convince you otherwise. Even with outstanding technological knowledge and flight experience, (Atton), ability to read the sales guy, (most of us), intimidation factors, (Kex and Dax) and charm enough to make a wookie smile (Ladria, Visas and Megari), it’s STILL a grueling experience. As soon as the salesman, a Rodian with blue-green skin and an insincere smile, spotted Jedi, he put on aural dampeners to keep from being persuaded. I was rather irritated by the implied insult, myself, but Ladria just raised an eyebrow and smiled. The little man bustled up to us, tentacles quivering, sycophantic expression firmly in place.

“Ah, ladies, gentlemen, how can this humble person serve you today? I am Rahid, and I have good ships, good prices. I see you’re looking at the latest Hawk class model, it is beautiful, yes? And such a bargain, only 50,000 credits, plus registration fees,” he almost simpered, sensing a big sale.

Rodin’s faces are hard to read, what with the huge pupil-less eyes, tubular mobile mouth, and habit of talking fast. They also prefer their own language as their vocal cords and mouth structure make it hard for them to use Galactic Basic. They make great salesmen – among other, less legitimate occupations - because most humans are somewhat prejudiced and don’t pay as close attention to alien languages. Fortunately, as a race Rodians tend to be less than brilliant in the intelligence department, so they don’t cheat people nearly as badly as most of them probably want to. As criminals, they often end up the scapegoat, being slow to see the setup. I’ve met a few very smart ones, but even they admitted their IQ was a rarity among their people. I smiled brilliantly at Rahid.

“I’m looking for a personal long-range ship, with dorm space and at least one private cabin, more than one ‘fresher, and an adequate galley,” I said, gazing at the spanking new Hawk class cruiser with admiration.

“Oh, yes missy, this Hawk is perfect,” he simpered. “Very comfortable, very fast, lots of room. A bargain.”

“More than I want to spend,” I said dismissively, knowing 50,000 credits was at least 15,000 more than the usual list price. If this one was a basic, no frills model, you could take another 5,000 or more off, depending on what sort of engine it had.

I’d already done my research and had a working knowledge of the going rate for a good condition used or new personal ship with long-range capability and enough room to transport both people and cargo. Atton and Bao Dur had helped a lot in educating me. Basically, I wanted something along the lines of the Ebon Hawk, possibly a bit bigger. I expected that when we traveled it would be with at least some of the honor guard and I didn’t relish sharing dorm space or bathing facilities if I could help it. I was a decent pilot, Dax was much better and I assumed Canderous was pretty good too. With our tendency to find trouble, I also wanted something fast, maneuverable, and armed.

Rahid had six new in stock, and about a dozen used. I let Atton do a quick look over of the used and his verdict was that eight of those were barely flyable. We looked closer anyway, to see how much work they would take to make comfortable and, most important, safe. Three proved to appear worse than they actually were, the other five not worth the trouble. We saved the last four decent-looking ones for later. The salesman busily hovered around, naming ridiculously high prices for the new ones, slightly more reasonable for the obviously good condition used, and far more than they were worth quotes for the junkers.

We toured the new Hawk class simply because those types are reliable and can take a beating, as well as being fairly comfortable. And hey, a new ship is wonderful; fewer ‘what the hell were they thinking’ modifications to deal with. They also smell good. When you’re traveling long distances, you literally live on board; I wanted to find something that would suit as a mobile home.

This model was an improvement on the Ebon Hawk as it had one tiny cabin that shared a ‘fresher with a regular four-bunk dorm, and a larger Captain’s cabin with its own decent sized bath facilities. Two more bunks were outside this cabin, with a third miniscule ‘fresher tucked into a corner. It was barely big enough for the average sized Mandalorian male to turn around in, but it was adequate.

I liked this one well enough, and Hawks are almost always a good choice, according to Atton and Bao Dur. Take the Ebon Hawk, they had pointed out. She’s a good ten years old, but was a stout ship that could take a beating, was well armed, and reasonably comfortable for crew to live on. She had a lot more light years in her, despite her adventures. Looking at this new model, I had to agree that it seemed as well-built, spacious, and as comfortable as a small non-luxury class ship can be. She had twin gun turrets, not just one, so defense was better, as well. Atton was happily poking around, opening doors and checking the engine room before heading to the cockpit, his approval obvious.

But I don’t like buying big things without checking out all angles. I also didn’t look forward to bargaining down to a reasonable amount from Rahid’s ridiculously inflated quote. So we checked out all the new ships. I was hugely disappointed with the selection. Two were just slightly more than short-jump shuttles. Two were extremely scaled down; big on weaponry, low on personal comforts. The last one was inadequately armed, had only one big dorm, one tiny ‘fresher, and I knew from unfortunate personal experience the kitchen synthesizers on board were of a manufacture that made everything taste like slightly moldy bread. Ugh.

Wrinkling my nose in distaste at the thought of meals on board this ship, I didn’t even bother to ask Atton what the engines and cockpit looked like. He had trotted off straight away to inspect them. I was taking a step toward the cockpit to let him know I wasn’t interested when he reappeared, a frown of disapproval on his handsome face. He gave me an eloquent look that suggested his opinion of me would crash and burn if I considered hitching a ride on this ship, let alone purchasing. I grinned, and shook my head. He nodded with approval.

Making sure our erstwhile salesman was out of earshot, Atton murmured, “The best so far is the Hawk. Great engines, and I’m itching to see how she handles. If she’s better than the Ebon Hawk, it’ll be a dream to fly her.”

“I agree. But humor me, and let’s see the last four,” I answered in an equally quiet voice.

“Absolutely. But I have to say Bao Dur would love to tinker with the new Hawk. I’d bet within a week he’d have her outrunning anything of its class in the galaxy. As it is, only a Republic scout ship would have a chance of it,” he said, practically dancing with glee.

“Well, fast is good,” I smiled. “And I like the gun turrets; they’re exceptionally good quality. It’s also very comfortable, passenger-wise.”

“Yeah, I figured you’d like the galley,” Atton grinned. “It looks like it could keep up even with your appetite without the synthesizers exploding.”

I elbowed him in a friendly manner and caught Dax and Mira laughing. I grinned back. Ladria, Visas and Megari had been poking around the cabins and dorms, and joined us in the main cabin.

“So what do you think?” Ladria asked politely.

I looked around to see where Rahid was. He was earnestly trying to talk to Kex, who was stoically ignoring him. I stifled a chuckle and quietly repeated Atton’s and my plan. I saw the other three women’s smiles fix a little. I wasn’t surprised that another hour or two of inspecting space ships wasn’t their idea of a fun time. Truthfully, it wasn’t mine either, but I couldn’t see any other way to acquire one.

“How about you guys go on and start your own shopping,” I offered with an understanding smile. “No telling how long this will take, and there’s no need at all for you to have to suffer along with me. If I’m really nice, will you pick me out a few more sets of clothes? Maybe even something a little less...practical? I’m hopeless when it comes to fashion.”

“Of course,” Ladria said, without the slightest hint of the relief I was sure she was feeling. The woman has class. Visas and Megari chimed in their gracious assent as well. I was somewhat surprised when Mira elected to go along with the ladies; I thought for certain she’d want to stay near Dax. But apparently girl time outweighed the joy of listening to the pros and cons of engine performance. Not that I blamed any of them; I would have loved to just let Atton choose something for me, and escaped the tedious business of finding the perfect ship.

But Canderous would kill me if I left the honor guard, and it wasn’t fair to let Atton shop alone without someone to share the chortling over lifter schematics. And it wouldn’t really be my present if I let Atton do all the looking.

Buck up, Jax, I told myself sternly. It was your idea in the first place. And it’s a good one, so quit whining.

The women left with a speed that confirmed their lack of enthusiasm of the finer points of personal transport. Dax and Kex reestablished themselves between me and any possible outside confrontation. Atton all but sprinted toward the next ship. I couldn’t help but smile at his enthusiasm; he was like a child getting to choose a new toy.

An hour and three ships later, I was ready to throw it in and just start the haggle for the Hawk. Although they proved to be in decent working order, none of the three we’d seen so far were even close to being what I was looking for. One was designed for pure cargo hauling with the sleeping berths being little more than mattresses shoved in niches randomly scattered in various cargo holds, garage, and engine room. I almost couldn’t find the ‘freshers, they were so obviously an afterthought. The galley was surprisingly spacious and high quality, though. As for the other two, they were nice enough, sturdy, and relatively comfortable, but had room for only four passengers, and that if the pilot slept in the cockpit. Atton admired the third one especially, and I could see him practically rubbing his hands together, wishing to take it for a spin. But he regretfully admitted it wasn’t what I needed, and we moved on to the last ship.

Atton hadn’t done more than give the used models a quick once-over the first time around, basically checking for obvious damage and level of maintenance. We had checked more closely the ones that he’d initially dismissed, hoping to find something we could fix easily but argue down to a real bargain. We still had three of those in reserve, so to speak, one of which was another Hawk that had obviously seen better days and could have used more conscientious owners, but Atton felt Bao Dur could polish up. I approached this last ship thinking that if it proved inadequate, I’d take a better look at the used Hawk and make up my mind between it and the new one.

“Wait a minute,” Atton said, stopping short. He stared hard at the rather funny-looking ship, his face starting to register excitement.

“What?” I asked, and looked around at Kex and Dax. They both were starting to look interested, and I shook my head, bewildered. It didn’t look that special to me.

“I’ve never seen one, but I think this might be a Falcon class,” Atton said with a hint of reverence. He obviously thought this was adequate explanation, and started to slowly walk around the ship, inspecting the hull and looking for model numbers. Rahid hadn’t caught up yet, so we had a moment without him listening in.

“Oooookay,” I said, exasperated. “Are they anything like Hawks?”

Actually, this did look a bit like the Ebon Hawk, but more streamlined, with the cockpit leading and the body of the ship curving back from it, rather than being nestled in between the two wings. Retractable gun turrets were on either side, and the loading ramp was in the rear, set back a little. It did look sturdy, and someone had taken good care of it, from the looks of the outside. But it didn’t look special to my untrained eyes.

Atton looked at me in astonishment. “You’re kidding, right? Falcons are supposed to be one of the best ships on the market. They’re made by the same people that manufacture Hawks, but they’re the elite class. Fast, very comfortable, and each one is custom-made. Every pilot in the galaxy has heard of them, but I’ve only met one that has ever flown one, and I wasn’t sure he wasn’t just trying to impress the girl he was with.”

“So you’re saying they’re good ships, then,” I said.

“Hell, lass, Falcons are the best of its class out there,” Kex put in unexpectedly. “I’ve always wanted to try one, and I’m not one to care over much about ships.”

Dax’s eyes were gleaming as he gazed at the Falcon. “I would’ve given my right, er, arm,” he said with a quick glance at me, “to fly a broken down Falcon, let alone one in good shape. To find one new...” he trailed off, a dreamy look on his face. He wasn’t the pilot Atton was, but then not many are. Dax was a good one though, and would likely be our primary pilot when traveling. He was obviously smitten with the idea of flying a Falcon.

“Well, let’s take a look,” I said, starting to get excited in spite of myself.

It was fabulous. Much like the new Hawk, it had two cabins, situated on either side of the ship. The larger Captain’s cabin had a good sized ‘fresher, complete with laundry recycle. The other cabin was smaller, and shared a bigger ‘fresher with a five bunk dorm. Three bunks resided outside the larger cabin, with a third ‘fresher of their own. There was a galley big enough for two to work comfortably, three if you didn’t mind squeezing a bit. All the food processors were the best to be found. The common area was large enough to seat twelve, with extra fold-away chairs tucked into a little storage area off the galley, along with two sturdy tables that broke down to compact flat packages. The tables and chairs could all be attached to the floor of the common area with a series of ingenious little automatic clamps.

There was less cargo space than either the Ebon Hawk or the new Hawk cruiser, but more than adequate space for anything we’d be hauling. The med bay had its own lab bench, and the garage was big enough for two swoop bikes or a medium sized speeder, with enough room left over for workspace and a built in workbench. The engine room was big enough to set up a camp bed for the duration of any trip, without having to break it down to work on said engines. The gun cannons were nearly new; they had been upgraded from the originals fairly recently.

Atton practically drooled on the instrument panel when we hit the cockpit. He was careful not to show too much enthusiasm in front of Rahid, though. He immediately checked the hyperdrive and gave me a nod and a wink, confirming it was excellent quality and in good working order. The seats were comfortable and sturdy, everything was in easy reach of even my shorter arms. They even had individual environmental controls. I sighed in pleasure.

“What’s her name?” I asked Rahid, trying to sound offhand and only mildly interested.

“She a good ship, yes? Very clean, runs like a dream. Her name is Soul of the Phoenix,” the little salesman said.

I had a vision of the Mandoa, rising from the ashes of their culture, becoming strong and a part of the life of the galaxy again.

I bought her on the spot.

Okay, I wasn’t stupid. We took her for a spin, with all four of us trying out the controls. She flew beautifully, and Atton was nearly swooning with envy. I haggled and threatened and pretended to nearly walk away from the deal. But I’d made up my mind as soon as Rahid had told me her name; this was the ship I wanted. And in the end, for less credits than the list price of the new Hawk, I was the proud owner of the five year old Falcon class cruiser Phoenix.

The entire process took another hour, but finally we were flying the Phoenix to her own hanger at the Iziz docks. As part of their services, the transport broker will help make arrangements for storage of the vehicles, if the customer wishes. For a surprisingly modest monthly fee, I could park the Phoenix in a private hanger as long as I needed to. Security was excellent, which relived my mind, considering that I wasn’t actually residing on the same planet as the ship. I also had access to maintenance services ranging from simple cleanup to full restoration. I paid extra to have the Phoenix fueled up, provisioned, and completely cleaned, inside and out. Any actual maintenance and/or modifications I wanted to leave to Bao Dur.

Not a bad day’s work, I thought with satisfaction as Atton commed the others and we headed out to catch up. I just hope Canderous likes it.

We still had a couple of hours before we were due back at the hotel. Ladria, Mira, Megari and Visas had put their shopping time to excellent use, and were more than willing to pause for a quick snack break. I was hungry, and had missed lunch. Spotting a street vendor who sold delicious-smelling meat pies, I purchased enough to feed all of us. Munching the steaming savory pie, I proudly told the other women about the Phoenix, Atton and Dax chiming in with enthusiastic details.

“Sounds perfect,” Mira said, smiling at our enthusiasm. I nodded happily back.

“So how are your errands going?” I asked generally.

“I think we’re about finished up,” Ladria said, indicating the satchels all four of them sported.

Megari’s looked to be the most full, which only made sense, having even less than I did when I hooked up with the crew of the Ebon Hawk. I saw she was wearing a new outfit of a casual tunic and breeches with beautifully crafted boots which I bet Mira talked her into. Always pretty, she was especially so with her face flushed with the steam from her meat pie, the new pale blue tunic setting off her gorgeous purple eyes. She looked happy, and I was glad to see it.

“I don’t have much else to do,” I said. “I need to stop at the jeweler’s and pick up my father’s ring, and the tailor wants me to come by for a final fitting.”

“Oh yes, clothing,” Visas said, handing me another satchel. “Here is yours. We hope you like what we chose for you.”

“I’m sure I’ll love them,” I said with a smile. “Thanks so much for doing that.”

Arriving at the clothing shop, Dax and Kex stationed themselves outside the door, having first ascertained that it was the only way in or out. Atton elected to return to the hotel, grumbling about female shopping binges. I thanked him sincerely for all his help and promised that he’d have first shot of taking her for a real cruise soon. He smiled widely, and abruptly kissed Ladria soundly, much to her surprise and our amusement. He said something in her ear that I assumed would have made her blush if she wasn’t so good about hiding her emotions. Waving to the rest of the party, he strode off.

No other customers entered while we five women went about our business. I was quite certain it was due to the forbidding-looking pair standing guard. I made a mental note to tip the seamstress handsomely, feeling guilty for possibly costing her sales.

The rest of the shopping went smoothly, even the irritating boring business of standing still while the tailor made sure my wedding dress hung correctly. I flatly refused to wear the popular style that was so form fitting the bride was reduced to a mincing hobble. Nor had I wanted a bell-skirted monstrosity that had required a durasteel frame that she had suggested when I had been here with Elder Evana; the thing looked like you could hide a swoop bike under it. The dress I had chosen was a comfortable, sleeveless garment made of a silky pale blue fabric that skimmed my body without being overtly clingy. The skirt was draped in such a way that standing still it looked like a simple straight line, but in actual fact allowed me full range of motion. I can’t stand clothes that don’t allow me to move. That’s biggest reason I rarely wear heels, despite my lack of height.

While I was suffering the tailor’s clucking and poking, Megari was browsing the ready-made racks, choosing things to add to her and Danni’s wardrobes. Ladria, Visas and Mira idly wandered around. I had an excellent view of most of the shop in the mirror, and saw them approach a table full of rather racy underthings. To my amusement, with studied nonchalance Ladria sifted through the offerings, chose a few and paid the woman at the counter. Mira sorted through the table with enthusiasm, gathering a substantial collection in a colorful pile. I resolved to check it out myself when the tailor released me.

Megari was still adding to her pile of clothes when I was finally free, so I had a little time to look. I made my choices, and paid as she was stowing the last of her purchases in her satchel. We left, considerably more laden, although I was surprised how compact the capes and wedding dress actually folded down to. I was pleased that the capes I had ordered earlier were ready to go, and the dress hadn’t needed any last adjustments; the seamstress had simply wanted to make certain of the fit. I didn’t mind her being meticulous, even though I really hate to have to stand so still. She had done a beautiful job.

I had dropped off my father’s wedding ring at the jeweler’s as we had left the hotel. I knew Mandalorians didn’t customarily wear rings, and didn’t actually expect Canderous to. I did hope he would understand why I offered it though, and wanted him to have it. I had thought about it for some time after I had emptied my lockbox. I knew my father would have liked Canderous, once he got over him being Mandalorian. However, Dad had been built more like Atton, although a good ten centimeters shorter, and he had had slender, long-fingered hands; the ring might fit Canderous’ pinky. I had estimated how much to size it and hoped I had guessed right. After collecting it, we headed back to the hotel.

Everyone scattered to their various rooms, and I trudged toward mine, Mira, Dax and Kex in tow. My bodyguards refused to let me out of their sight until I was safely in Canderous’ keeping, and I had assured Mira that Dax was free to go once we got there. Canderous and I had gotten a three bedroom suite, so that the honor guard could stay with us and still ensure privacy all around. I knew Mira had taken a room by herself, and that likely we wouldn’t see either Dax or Mira until the next day. I made shooing motions at the pair of them as Kex followed me into the suite. Grinning, they waved back and disappeared down the hall. Kex grunted something I chose to think was a friendly ‘see you’ noise and headed to the room he was sharing with Kelborn and, theoretically, Dax.

“How did your errands go, Wildcat?” Canderous asked after giving me a thorough and toe-tingling kiss hello.

“Very well,” I said enthusiastically. “I have a few things to share with you later,” I added with a suggestive wink.

“Do you now?” He said, quirking an eyebrow.

His grin turned wolfish, and I restrained myself from grabbing him and dragging us to our room. I was hungry; the meat pie had barely taken the edge off. Hmmm. Sex, or food? I was about to ignore the hunger pangs and suggest I give him a private fashion show of my new underwear when my stomach disagreed with me loudly. I sighed.

“Let’s get you fed, Wildcat,” Canderous said with a rumbling chuckle. “I can see your new…outfit…later,” he hastily amended his original choice of words as Kelborn, Xarga, Zuka and Tagren wandered in. I gave him a rueful smile and agreed.

After checking if Kex wanted to come along, the seven of us headed to a nearby cantina that the hotel clerk assured us had excellent food as well as every imaginable alcoholic beverage in the galaxy. Shortly, we were seated and digging in to a most delicious meal. The waiter was a little nervous having six large, fierce looking Mandalorian warriors at his table, but relaxed a little when he saw how much we ordered. Having just put out about half the value of my parent’s estate, I refused to let the size of our bill to bother me.

Dinner was lively enough. Canderous gave an edited version of his conversation with Carth Onasi. I was receiving the full version mentally while he talked and was impressed all over again that he actually knew the man. He did share with everyone his little joke concerning me, and while I didn’t really approve, I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You should have seen him, cyar’ika. He was astonished I was getting married in the first place, and it was so obvious he expects you to be something just short of a Sith Lord,” Canderous said almost gleefully, his chuckle rumbling around the table.

“I suppose that’s better than a cantina whore,” I said sweetly, causing Zuka to nearly choke on his food. The rest of them laughed. Canderous shook his head.

“I’ll never live that one down, will I?” He sighed.

“Nope,” I said cheerfully.

We finished up our meal, and decided to explore the cantina further. The dining area was set apart from the other entertainments, although they had a small Bith band playing quietly in the background. We wandered about, gaining a few dirty looks from other customers that were quickly concealed when one of our party looked directly their way. I thought at first it was because the honor guard insisted on surrounding Canderous and me; six Mandalorians take up a lot of room. Plus none of the honor guard were being particularly polite about getting people out of their way. They weren’t overtly shoving or being verbally abusive. They simply walked the direction they wanted, and expected anyone in their path to move. Unsurprisingly, this worked.

Gradually I realized that the hostility I was feeling wasn’t so much due to our bodyguards’ attitude as the simple fact they were Mandalorian. And, after a moment of monitoring the mood, to my astonishment I understood that many of the people in the room were eyeing me with disdain. I was bewildered.

Why is half the bar looking at me like I sold the Republic to the Sith? I asked Canderous. And the other half like they expect you guys to help negotiate the contract? Wait, okay, I get that…if I didn’t know you six, I might be scared too.

The hell you would, Canderous answered with an inward chuckle. Cautious, maybe.

Do you even know what you look like to someone who doesn’t know you? I asked rather tartly.

Depends on what you mean by that, Wildcat, he replied, amused. And to be frank, I don’t really care. Nor should you.

I thought about that, and nodded. Maybe not. But suddenly, I don’t really feel like hanging around for a drink.

We can leave if you like…

But you don’t think we should. Why? I had caught the disapproval in his tone.

He sighed in my head. People fear and dislike my kind, and for good reason, he said simply. You can leave, and hide from it, or you can face it down. Your choice.

I sighed back. You’re right. We’ll stay.

That’s my girl, he said approvingly.

We found a table, and ordered. I chose wine, and asked for water as well. The Mandalorians ordered several pitchers of ale. The waitress, a pretty Twi’lik with gray eyes and lovely blue-green skin, jotted down the selections and left as hastily as she could. I could feel her nervousness and carefully masked hostility and tried to smile at her reassuringly. She gave me a brief searing glance as she retreated and I tried not to let it bother me.

Our drinks arrived quickly, and I read between the lines that it was a subtle hint to drink up and get out. As I was assimilating this, a large man who looked as if he could take any one of our party on without breaking a sweat approached. He was beefy, practically without a neck, and while he was a head shorter than Canderous he was nearly as broad. He wasn’t, however, Mandalorian; no clan tattoo on his upper arm, which the cut off sleeves of his stretched to the limit shirt showed clearly. His face might once have been handsome, but at some point he’d broken a cheekbone that hadn’t been properly healed; it gave him a slightly lopsided look. Plus his nose had been rearranged so many times that it was wide and flatish, contrasting oddly with the strong square jaw and high undamaged cheekbone.

“I’m sorry, but no underage allowed here,” he said in a calm, almost friendly tenor, much higher than I had expected.

“Huh?” I said, looking around. Then I realized he meant me. I laughed in surprise.

“She’s of age,” Canderous assured him.

I smiled, giving him a nice display of teeth. He didn’t return it. I sighed, and dug for my Republic ID, handing it over. He scanned it critically, relenting when he couldn’t find any sign of it being forged.

“Sorry, miss,” he said, handing it back. “You’re just small for a Mandalorian; I assumed your father didn’t know we were a restricted cantina. Nothing personal.”

“No problem,” I said with a friendly smile. “You have a bar to run, after all. And he’s not my father.”

“Oh,” he said, looking uncomfortable. “Well, enjoy your evening.”

He wandered away. As I was stowing my ID card, I was startled to find a folded piece of paper tucked behind it. Curious, I smoothed it out. In a hastily scrawled hand, it read:

I can help you get away. Get to the ‘fresher and we’ll smuggle you out. Don’t worry, we’ll take care of your captors.

I stared at the paper, not sure whether to laugh, cry, or throw things. I had been blocking the mood around me as best I could, knowing that a good many people in the bar seemed to think I was either being coerced or, worse, voluntarily fraternizing with whom they viewed as little better than animals. While I wanted to scream, I also had to admire the guy for his guts; he really did seem to think he was rescuing me.

“I think,” I said slowly, “We ought to get out of here when we’re done with our drinks.”

“What do you have there, cyar’ika?” Canderous asked, taking the paper from my numb fingers. He read it, and his face blanked.

“I see.” He ran his hand through his hair and down his face. “Well, can’t say I’m that surprised. Brave fellow,” he added as an afterthought. He passed the note discretely to Kelborn, who scowled briefly upon reading it, then went as blank as Canderous. The other four had nearly the same reaction.

“If we try to leave right away, he’ll likely take that as evidence that I am with you against my will,” I said just loud enough for our table to hear. “If we stay too long…well….I just don’t like this at all,” I said a little lamely.

“Nothing we can do about it, unless we want to start a brawl. Not that I mind that idea,” Canderous said with a sudden wicked grin. “But I don’t fancy watching Atton’s glee as the others bail us out of the local jail.”

“Speak for yourself, Mandalore,” Xarga grinned. “I don’t plan on being taken alive.”

“Oh, that’s a real help,” I said irritably.

“Might not have a choice,” Tagren said, starting to grin himself. He pointed with his chin over Canderous’ head, and we turned to see about six large guys approaching the table. Two had vibroswords, the other four blasters, and they looked ready to use them. I slowly eased my chair a little away from the table, ready to grab my swords, and felt Canderous go on full alert.

Let me handle this, I said to Canderous, and after a pause, he nodded.

Give it a shot, Wildcat, he answered, and gave a subtle signal to the others to be alert, but not try anything…yet.

I smiled brightly at the approaching party. “Good evening, gentlemen,” I said in my friendliest voice.

“Miss, you can come out of there,” the one who seemed to be in charge said without preamble. He was nearly as big as the bouncer who had slipped me the note, as were the rest of his companions. He had a nice face, though, and a quick scan of his aura showed me he was honestly trying to help me. Wonderful. “You don’t have to stay with this rabble.”

A low growl only I heard reverberated through my head. I shook it off, still smiling, but casually put my hands closer to the hilt of my blades.

“I think there’s a misunderstanding here,” I said easily. “I’m fine where I am, and my husband would object to losing my company. Let me buy you nice men a drink, I do appreciate your concern.”

“Husband?” he said, clearly thrown. Then he scowled. “You’re far too small to be Mandalorian.”

Why do people seem to love pointing out the obvious? Like I hadn’t noticed by the permanent crick in my neck that I don’t look the rest of the world in the eye?

“I’m not,” I answered shortly. No pun intended. “Not that it’s your business. Now, how about that drink?” I smiled winningly.

He looked at me long and hard, and I stared him down. “You’re either lying, or have incredibly bad taste in men,” he finally said. “Where did they take you from?”

“Look, mister, I’ve tried to be reasonable,” I said, shifting gears and giving him my coldest look. “I am here, having a drink with my husband and his kin, and it’s none of your concern. Go away now, there’s a good fellow.”

Canderous and the others were glaring daggers at the intruders, who were starting to look nervous. But the man with the nice face continued to stare at me, frowning. I scowled back.

“Try to help someone,” he said, not quite sneering. “I never thought I’d see the day when a woman of ours would choose to keep company with this trash. You’re either brainwashed, or crazy.”

I’d had it, and jumped to my feet. Canderous and the others followed suit. The disapproval of the bar in general and these men in particular had been buzzing around me like a persistent insect and I was getting cranky. I’m not used to being hated by otherwise nice people that don’t even know me. At worst, I was used to being invisible.

Nice face’s companions looked like they wanted to back up but stood their ground.

“I am neither brainwashed nor crazy.” I used my calmest, most reasonable voice, but inside I was seething. “You have courage, which is all that is keeping me and these men from challenging you for your insults. We are not looking for trouble. Walk away. Now.”

For the first time, he seemed to notice that I was armed. He took in my stance, my blades, the calm determination on my face, the fire in my eye and suddenly, truly understood I didn’t need or want help.

“Take this outside,” the voice of the bouncer cut through the tension.

I continued to lock eyes with my would-be rescuer. He and his buddies seemed relieved at the interruption, and I smiled in satisfaction.

“No problem,” I said coolly. I gave Nice Face a look that told him I saw his fear. “We were just leaving.”

I threw some credits on the table and stalked past the hostile party. Grim-faced, the Mandalorians followed. I was so angry I couldn’t see straight. Snarling with frustration, rage, and, although I didn’t want to admit it, humiliation, I punched the side of the building hard enough to crack a knuckle. I barely felt the pain.

“Damn it,” Tagren said regretfully. “That could have been fun.”