#you cannot tell me saxon is not THAT kind of fanboy

[hannagoldworthy]

Renegade 3

(Mostly set-up for later plot points, I'm not gonna lie. Darth Gravid makes his first appearance in this story, however, so this chapter's worth reading for him.)

Barriss awoke the next morning to a nudge on her left arm and an exasperated voice in her ears. “Kind of a heavy sleeper, aren’tcha?” Her eyes blinked open to behold the green-eyed Convor woman staring down at her, unimpressed.

“My apologies,” she replied, stretching idly. “What time is it?”

“0800…you’ve been sleeping soundly since 2300.” The redhead shrugged. “I guess people from your planet sleep more, having longer nights and all.”

That was the furthest thing from the truth; her people averaged seven hours of sleep, normally snatched two to three hours at a time while on watch against nocturnal predators, while Barriss herself normally awoke with nightmares about her time on the front lines. The fact that she had managed nearly nine hours of sleep was unusual, but not impossible – she had some rest to catch up on, after all, and Maul had managed to interrupt her for about a half hour the previous night. But, obviously, he had been quiet enough not to tip off their oh-so-discreet guards, and she was not about to say anything that would rouse their suspicions, so she shrugged wordlessly and let the other woman draw her own conclusions.

“Here.” A bundle of cloth dropped on Barriss’s lap. “You’ve only had the one dress for a long time, right? We ladies found a few things that might fit you; nightgowns, day dresses, even a few head-scarves. You can change into those and let us launder the other one, if you want.”

Barriss lifted an eyebrow, and sorted through the bundle; there were a lot of blues and blacks, naturally, but there was a pink bantha-flannel nightgown and a yellow headdress with a paisley pattern for variety. “You just had these lying around?”

“We’re a nomadic militia; there’s not too much opportunity to wear long skirts when we have to be ready to take off at any moment.”

“You have scarves, though.”

“Yeah, well, we might not observe traditional Mirialan customs of modesty, but scarves are good for tying long or curly hair back under a helmet. Not that Ireally have that problem,” she fluffed at her ginger bob with pretended vanity, grinned, and nodded significantly at the bundle. “Go ahead and get dressed. I’m here so that no nasty male-folk offend your sensibilities.”

Barriss felt a smile cross her face that was more a baring of teeth than anything else. “It’s less a custom of modesty than of temperance and humility. We photosynthesize, so keeping ourselves covered prevents us from ‘eating’ too much, and we accumulate markings as our skillset grows, so exposing those unnecessarily can be seen as showing off.”

“Huh…learn something new every day.”

“Indeed. Could you please turn away? I’m nervous about changing in front of anyone, not just men.”

The Mandalorian held her gaze for a moment, testing to see if Barriss was trying to trick her. Then, she turned and faced the two doorways of the small lean-to built into the medbay tent, setting her hands on her hips. “Anyone else who comes in will walk away when they see me.”

Barriss got to her feet, wincing slightly as she stood; the cramps had died down a little, but her uterus was very much still trying to remind her of its existence.

“You all right?”

“Just some issues with my cycle.” Barriss saw an opportunity to needle the Convor Woman’s conscience about the weight comment she’d made the previous day, and took it. “I can get rather bloated; I’m afraid some of these dresses won’t fit me until it dies down.”

The barb hit true; even through beskar, Barriss could sense the rush of guilt. “That sounds like it sucks.”

Barriss chose a navy blue dress, and slipped into it quickly. “It’s actually not so bad this time; last month was pretty harsh,” though that had mostly been the fault of it happening on a Sith Homeworld, in front of two men she didn’t really know all that well yet, with a dwindling supply of painkiller hypos. She’d been able to cope pretty well, and she doubted Savage or Maul had really noticed, but Korriban was not an experience she wished to repeat any time soon for multiple reasons.

“Yeah, I hate that. Like, are you going to punch me in the stomach or not? Make up your mind.” After a few seconds of listening to Barriss button herself up, the woman scratched the back of her neck. “My name’s Bo-Katan, by the way. Bo, if you don’t like the mouthful.”

As she looked over the headdresses, Barriss debated trying a false name, before deciding against it. “Barriss,” she said – it was a common name and Mandalorians obviously did not keep up with Jedi gossip or they would have known about Savage by now, at least, so she doubted they’d know about a relatively minor Jedi General. “But I respond to Doc in medical settings.” The yellow scarf would do for a change of pace, she decided.

“Sounds good, Doc.” Bo-Katan received Barriss’s dirty laundry with a smile that did not reach her eyes. “Do you want me to show you around?”

***

Maul was embroiled in some strategy talk with the Death Watch leader when Barriss and Bo-Katan returned to the medical tent after about a half-hour. The conversation came to a brief halt as the two men looked up to acknowledge them, to which Bo snorted. “Don’t stop on my account, fellas. What’s the plan going into this den of filth?”

The man lying in a cot with a bandage over the left side of his face smirked flirtatiously at Bo. “Mostly, just walk up like we have a right to be there and ask nicely for their assistance.”

“And if we say no?” Bo asked with a playful pout; obviously, these two were involved and not afraid to show it. And that was good, because Maul had been given a new wardrobe as well, and his shirt was open almost to his navel; Barriss had to fight not to be distracted.

“Ask less nicely,” Maul concluded. “But, my siblings and I will tend to that more than you will, so you needn’t worry too much. In the meantime, the doctor has arrived to tend to your wounded.” He looked Barriss over subtly enough that their oblivious hosts would not perceive it, his pupils dilated in a way that made her stomach flutter. “So, my authority is overruled for the time being. I’ll see you at lunch, Viszla?”

The blond man frowned good-naturedly. “If I’m not poked and prodded into indigestion,” he replied. Maul gave him a formal bow and left, studiously avoiding eye contact with Barriss; Bo-Katan winked, and sauntered after him. Viszla watched her go with devoted attention, which gave time for Barriss to quietly collect her thoughts before approaching his bedside.

“If I may?”

Viszla rolled his eyes. “Fine, but no bacta.”

Barriss peered underneath the bandage at the obvious lightsaber burn. “Are you certain? I’m pretty sure that will scar up visibly even with the bacta.” It reminded her of Anakin Skywalker’s facial scar, actually; dark makashi practitioners liked to leave cuts like this near the eye to showcase their skill with the blade.

“Oral antibiotics only,” Viszla reiterated. “I want my enemies to know that I went up against Dooku himself and survived.”

She shook her head; he was very much like Anakin in more ways than one, it seemed. Anakin had bragged for weeks about killing Asajj Ventress, flaunting his injury enough that they had to retreat him several times. He’d been down in the mouth when, like the stubborn Dathomirian that she was, Ventress popped up again, very much alive, in a diplomatic mission to recruit Toydaria to her cause. No doubt Viszla would be just charmed when he realized that, to a trained eye, the scar would out him as someone who had run from a confrontation with Dooku.

But then, saying that would reveal that she had been a Jedi, and that would raise far too many questions. So, Barriss let the boast hang in the air, and began to study Viszla’s chart.

“You’re far from home,” he said after a minute, peering at her with his uncovered eye.

She nodded absently, flipping a flimsi-page. “And looking to get further away, as you have no doubt been informed.”

“Right…you were on your way to Chandrila.” A pause. “Do you want us to drop you off there? We aren’t at war with the Republic; we could sneak you over there, and you wouldn’t have to bother with this little detour.”

Barriss thought quickly; Maul was so much better at coming up with cover stories than she was. “It’s a tempting offer, but I’m afraid I have to refuse. I made a sacred oath when I received these,” she said, holding up her hand to showcase the healer marks once more. “And part of that oath entailed never abandoning a patient unless there is another healer who can continue their care.”

Viszla regarded her placidly. “And I have my medical droids.”

“But Feral does not; he is still recovering from a grievous injury, and still requires physical therapy. And frankly, sir, I do not trust droids in those matters.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “I like a person with their own mind,” he said. “But, I want to be open with you; we will be fighting, a great deal. And, well, no offense, but you really don’t look like a warrior.”

Barriss had never been more grateful for her body’s tendency to gather a little extra weight around the waist. “None taken, for I am not a warrior,” not willingly, anyway, “but I’m a decent doctor. And I wouldn’t mind tagging along for the detour, if you don’t mind my patching up your soldiers after the fights.”

Viszla smiled. “Then it is agreed, Doctor…”

Barriss was sorely tempted to give the last name of Coffee, but she knew it could put Maul into hysterical laughter if he heard. “Just Barriss,” she said. “I haven’t a last name.”

“Doctor Barriss,” he said. “Welcome to the company.”

***

They were… peculiar, these “Mandalorians.” They gave the Dathomirians a tent of their own, with four tiny cots they were expected to sleep upon; and when Savage carefully pushed his and Feral’s beds together so they could sleep in a pile as was the custom between Brothers who were blood relatives, there was a reaction. Not a violent reaction, thankfully, but the masked warriors acted embarrassed around them, and it was weird enough that Feral risked asking one of their assigned watchers about it.

“Oh, that?” Tall, dark, and sharp of features, Rook Kast did not seem the sort of woman who blushed easily, but blush she did. “Well, we uh…we didn’t realize you and Savage were riduure. Otherwise, we would have found a double-wide cot for you.”

Feral blinked. “What is this word, ‘riduure’? I’ve never heard it before.”

She gnawed on one dark blue lip in discomfort; Feral thought it might be painted, but for what reason he could not fathom. “You know…spouses? Husbands?”

He blinked. “You think Savage and I have Chosen each other?”

“Is that what you call it?” Rook shrugged. “I mean, the two of you are very good parents to Merrin, and you make a cute couple…what’s so funny?”

Feral was trying not to laugh too hard, but it wasn’t easy. “We’re brothers. Literally brothers; we are related by blood. He practically raised me.”

Her face scrunched up in confusion. “And you…share a bed?”

“Yes, Nightbrothers do that. We’re not allowed too many pillows or blankets, so it helps us stay warm and cushion each other’s heads with our arms. Frankly, it’s a little lonely with just Savage and me; before everything that happened on Dathomir, we also had our uncle and about a half dozen cousins each night.”

“So, you’re both single then?”

Feral wasn’t sure if he liked the look on her face. “Uh…what does that mean?”

“You’re not romantically involved with anyone currently?”

“…No?”

Rook grinned viciously. “HEEEEY SAXON! HE’S SINGLE!”

“WHY DON’T YOU YELL MY BUSINESS A LITTLE LOUDER, KAST? THEY DIDN’T QUITE HEAR YOU ON KALEVALA!”

The female Mandalorian patted Feral on the cheek. “He’s been wanting to ask your brother out since he laid eyes on him. Would you mind putting in a good word?”

“…Um…?”

***

On their third day with the Mandalorians, the camp was packed up; the fleet was continuing on to their more permanent base on Zanbar.

Maul was allowed to retrieve the turtle tanker, along with an armed ‘escort’ of six Mandalorians. The others were scattered throughout the other Death Watch ships – Feral, at least, could stay in the medbay with Barriss, but Savage had been placed with Saxon’s detachment, and Merrin was under the watchful eye of Kryze’s Nite Owls. They were aiming for the old trick of division and conquest; Death Watch did not trust them, no matter how obsequiously Viszla acted or how valuable their information proved to be. And that was acceptable, for now; Maul had known he was playing the defensive side of this little dejarik game from the start, and he was still in a good position to win it, even if it irritated him to no end.

I’m going to go out on a limb and assume the honeymoon was cut short.

Maul glanced over his shoulder at his fearsome escort; the girl was playing some sort of holo-game on her communicator, and from the looks of things she was having a rough time of it. She would not notice him typing to a ghost on his datapad.

Where the hell have you been for the past two weeks, Gravid?

Oh…around. I didn’t want to disturb anyone, so I spent my time training the mimic butterflies around here to say swear words. The Lurmen were so scandalized.

You could have warned us about the extremist Mandalorian faction camped at our doorstep.

And deprive you of an opportunity to rule the world? My boy, I may have died on the Light Side, but that doesn’t mean I’m not still a Sith. Maul could almost hear the fussy little sniff the ghost gave before continuing. I think, on Mandalore, you have a real chance to influence this war for the better. But you’re going to have to be careful. Lord Tyranus already passed up this same arrangement with Death Watch for a reason.

So Dooku’s Sith name was Tyranus? Subtle. The decrepit old usurper is incompetent. We already knew that.

No, he was ordered to end this in the way he did, just as he was ordered to shoot down a perfectly serviceable apprentice. Darth Tyranus is beholden to someone else, Maul, and I think you know exactly who that is.

Maul’s blood ran cold. Sidious...

Yes. We’ll need to be cautious, here; it’s very likely he left this loose end untied specifically to entice you into a trap. But, if we play our cards right, we can spring that trap.

***

Pre and Bo-Katan picked a tree near their favored clearing on Zanbar, watching silently as their commandos bustled about in the various tasks of pitching camp. Their guests were similarly occupied, the Mirialan with the medical staff and the Dathomirians with their own concerns; Pre saw the large yellow guy smack the orange guy upside the head and begin some sort of petty argument.

“That’ll be about Saxon,” Bo muttered over their private comm channel. “He’s a little enamored, and Kast isn’t a subtle matchmaker.”

He tilted his head fondly at her. “You sound like you have some opinions.”

“Well, you know me.”

“All too well; go ahead and speak your mind.”

She sighed. “They are barbarians.”

“Maul sounds like he’s got a decent education.”

“Educating a barbarian only produces an educated barbarian, Pre. Maul can spout pretty words all he likes, but at the end of the day he’d gladly tear your throat out with his teeth, and his brothers would mindlessly follow his direction.” The convor face turned to survey the medtent, where the Mirialan girl was listening calmly to their medic’s instructions. “And the greenie is very uppity for a released Trade Federation slave.”

“She’s a doctor; she probably got better treatment than most.”

“She was spoiled, you mean. She acts like she’s better than me…”

“She’s not your sister, Bo.”

“She’s two-faced enough that she’d get along well with her. I don’t trust her, Pre.”

“Well, we don’t need to trust any of them. We just need them to get results for us. Then, we execute them and go on with our lives at the head of a unified and strengthened Mandalore.”

The convor face of her helmet stared blankly at him for a few heartbeats before she shrugged and turned to survey the encampment. “I hope you’re right.”

“Have I ever steered you wrong before?”

“Do you want an honest answer to that question?”

“…No.”

“Merrick’s gamble…Concord Dawn…Carlac…”

“I said I didn’t want an answer.”

“Didn’t you say you could fight Dooku with one hand behind your back?”

“I never said I would win…”