#fynta wolfe

Fynta was having the time of her life. She kicked a Nikto in the groin and ducked under the swing of a Trandoshan bouncer, tackling him to the ground with all her strength. The evening had started out with so much promise and it was only getting better and better.

Another bounty hunter came at her with a vibroknife, but as he saw the smirk on Fynta's face he reconsidered his course of action and backed off with raised hands.

Turning around and looking for a new opponent, Fynta was suddenly lifted off her feet. The roar ringing in her ears left no doubt as to who had just picked a fight with her. Haar'chak!

The Wookiee was strong. Hairy arms lifting her up in a durasteel grip as if she were merely a doll. From the corner of her eyes Fynta noticed a worried Aric trying to fight his way through the crowd, but then all she could see was the dirty floor of the cantina coming up to meet her.

The impact rattled her teeth, pushed the air from her lungs so she couldn't even curse, but it didn't slow her down. In one fluid motion she jumped back on her feet and faced her opponent again. The Wookiee towered over her, attempted to grab her, but Fynta was faster, dancing out of reach only to attack with a series of punches.

They traded punches for a while, both of them giving as good as they got, both of them unable to finish the other off. It was only when Fynta realized the cantina had gone suspiciously quiet that she lowered her fists and looked around. The Wookiee did the same.

Most of the fighting seemed to have ended, just as quickly as it had started. Some of the clients were already back to drinking or playing Sabacc, others were watching Fynta's fistfight with interest (and probably placing a few bets on them as well).

Aric was standing next to them with arms crossed in front of his chest, tapping his foot.

Before Fynta could say anything the Wookiee started laughing and those big, wiry arms gathered her into a crushing hug.

~~~

A little later they were sitting together on one of the cantina's big tables, sharing a bottle of Mandalorian black ale. The Wookiee, her name was difficult to pronounce but she seemed nice enough, voiced her appreciation loudly. She seemed delighted with her new acquaintances, and had already ordered a new round for them to share.

Aric pressed an ice cold drink to a dark bruise on his temple. He made a grumpy face, but Fynta knew it was just out of principle. He looked good like this, fresh from the fight, and she made a mental note to tell her husband later.

For now she just refilled his glass with a big grin on her face. “So what was it you were saying earlier?”

“Before you launched yourself at that guy? I was just asking if Mandalorians have any special Life Day traditions.” Fynta raised her eyebrow, about to launch into an explanation, but it was the Wookiee who spoke up first.

Joy. Friendship. Family. That was what Life Day was about. Wasn't this what Mandalorians valued as well? And hadn't this been the most fun ever? What a fight it had been.

Fynta's grin only widened as she agreed and raised her glass in a silent toast. This was indeed the best kind of Life Day for a Mandalorian. Fighting and drinking, enjoying life. Sharing that joy of being alive with your friends (she raised the glass to her new Wookiee friend) ... and your family.

“Do you want me to wrap your thumb?” Altan held out his hand, waiting for Fynta to close the distance. 

Fynta glanced at Caldus, noting how his eyes found the floor instead of hers. He cradled his injured hand close to his chest, tucking the ice pack Altan had scrounged between his body and thumb. Apart from a knot on his head where Fynta had jarred him back to his senses and a bruised shoulder from a stray bolt, the Cathar was in good health.

Still, the ghost of shame in that burning gaze tugged at emotions Fynta thought she’d buried long ago. So, with a huff of derision, she plopped her hand into Altan’s palm and submitted to his medical expertise. Her sole consolation was that the Togruta offered her one of those rare, honest smiles as he set about wrapping the digit. Personally, Fynta had broken it so many times in that she worried the shabbing thing might not go back one day.

”ATTENTION PASSENGERS: ALL GUESTS ARE REQUIRED TO DISEMBARK TO NAR SHADDAA WHILE THE SHIP UNDERGOES MAINTENANCE. PLEASE PROCEED TO THE AIR LOCKS IN AN ORDERLY MANNER. ACCOMMODATIONS WILL BE MADE FOR THOSE WHOSE JOURNEY IS DELAYED.”

The announcement repeated, and Fynta looked away from the speaker to find Altan and Caldus still staring at the ceiling. She snorted a laugh, which brought their attention around, then waved them off when Caldus lifted one, striped brow.

”That’s our cue, boys.” Fynta stood from the couch to gather her bag, leaving Altan kneeling on the floor. Thankfully, her injured thumb wasn’t her dominant hand, a courtesy she hadn't been able to offer Caldus.

Fynta watched the Cathar wince as he lifted his pack. Poor bastard had taken the bolt in the opposite shoulder of the thumb she’d dislocated. She decided to push Altan’s meeting with Solus further up the list of priorities as an excuse to give them all a couple of days to heal instead of jumping straight into the mission.

Bidding farewell to their room, Fynta and company waited in line at the air lock for their chance to enter the bustling masses of Nar Shaddaa. Caldus coughed, his breath ruffling her hair. Altan spared his brother a frown, but Caldus shook his head. “I’m fine, just a little smoke in the lungs. It’ll clear.”

“Drink water.” 

Fynta leaned around Caldus to find the old veteran standing behind them. The grizzled man’s cybernetic eye whirred again, and he nodded. “You won’t find fresh air on this shite moon, but deep breathing and hydration should do you.”

”Thanks,” Caldus answered, brows pulled together again. 

The veteran nodded, then went back to staring at the datapad Fynta hadn't noticed before. She caught Caldus’s gaze, but the Cathar shrugged and widened his eyes like he had no idea why the old man was being nice. In the end, Fynta chalked it up to not everyone being a piece of osik and stepped out onto the dock where she was immediately assaulted with the overwhelming chaos of home.

”I’ll grab us a taxi, then I think we should take the rest of the night off.” Fynta all but skipped to the console to order their ride. Her euphoria didn’t seem to impact the awe, and perhaps revulsion, written on the Beroya brothers’ faces. 

Smog clung to the lower levels where the parking garages were located while speeders zipped above them in no discernable pattern. Altan stared in open wonder while Caldus squinted into the neon hellscape and rubbed the spots above his eyes. When an airhorn sounded a couple of lanes above them, Altan winced. 

Caldus rested his uninjured hand on his brother’s arm. “Did you remember to take your meds?” Fynta noted that the Cathar’s ears hadn't stopped twitching since they stepped off the yacht.

”I think I forgot between the boarding and medical checks.” The Togruta pulled his hood up and tightened the strings until Fynta could barely make out his face.

Caldus sighed and rubbed his hand down his face. “Understandable, but it’s going to be more important on this moon than anywhere we’ve been so far.”

Altan nodded, and Fynta turned to announce that she’d procured their transportation. “The car has a privacy feature.” She looked between the brothers, a pang of sadness that the world she loved was already causing her companions problems. “It shields light and sound.”

While Fynta didn’t know exactly what Altan’s medicine was for, she guessed it tied into his innate ability to sense everything around him. For the first time, Fynta realized what it must be like going from the sparsely populated planet of Rishi to the absolute pandemonium of Nar Shaddaa.

Fynta led her companions to the appointed taxi and glared at anyone who ventured too close. The droids piloting these aircabs took payment up front and didn’t deviate from the pre-plotted course. Naturally, that meant scalpers hovered nearby, hopping from sector to sector on someone else’s cred. 

A particularly burly Weequay ambled closer, but changed direction when Caldus bared his teeth. If it wouldn’t earn her a similar response, Fynta would hug the Cathar for catching on so quickly. A few gave Altan the side eye as well, but Fynta was nearly certain that the scowl on his face meant he was concentrating on something rather than trying to look fearsome.

The taxi settled onto the platform, and Fynta gave the boys a shove to get them moving before anyone else could slip in. When Caldus wrenched open the door, his glare turned on Fynta. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Fynta peeked beneath his arm and smothered her wince. “It’s cozy.”

”No way in hell are we all fitting in there.” Caldus started to slam the door shut, but Altan poked his head in next to Fynta’s. She didn’t miss the way his shoulder brushed hers and how the younger man didn’t flinch away.

”It’ll work,” Altan announced before climbing past them to settle on the bench seat. He never looked back at them, his attention enraptured by the skyscape and flashing billboards that provided this moon with endless light.

Pasting on a grin, Fynta shrugged at the big Cathar and tossed hers and Altan’s duffles into the luggage case on top. “If the Togruta says we fit, who are we to argue?” She slid in next to Altan, who glanced away from the scenery only long enough to confirm it was her, then went back to staring out the window.

Caldus muttered something too low for Fynta to catch before folding himself into the taxi at her side and pulling the door shut. Fynta swore she felt the aircar dip under his weight. He looked painfully stuffed into his seat, which she found odd given Altan wasn’t that much smaller but seemed perfectly content with his half of the car. Granted, with both brothers taking up half, that left Fynta’s hips crushed between them. Not to mention leg room. Caldus took up his and hers, but Altan seemed willing to share what he could. 

Before Caldus could decide he didn’t want to deal with the cramped conditions, Fynta alerted the droid that they were ready to go and the taxi jolted forward. Caldus cursed. Even Altan seemed to shrink into the copious amounts of fabric engulfing his body. 

“We won’t be in the air long,” Fynta assured them, once more resisting the urge to pat knees. 

“This place is a nightmare,” Caldus murmured as he squinted through his window, making sure to angle his bruised shoulder away from Fynta.

Fynta sighed, no longer fighting the smile that had been trying to burst forth since they landed. “This is home.” Caldus snorted, and they drifted into silence.

The ride was longer than Fynta promised, but mostly because her sense of distance on Nar Shaddaa sucked. The taxi dropped them at an identical platform to the one they’d left, the only indication that it was a different sector was the refuse littering the ground and an increase in despondent aliens. 

The Nikto Sector wasn’t a wealthy place despite its deep roots in black market tech and aftermarket cybernetic upgrades. The ones who shopped there had the credits to live elsewhere, whereas the ones who lived there barely had enough credits to travel to other sectors, much less move. Crime lords with deep pockets ruled the streets and kept the population docile with enough scraps to know they wouldn’t find better elsewhere.

The walk to the hotel was tense, and despite their aversion to close proximity, Fynta didn’t miss the way the brothers crowded closer to her with each passing block. Finally, Fynta stopped to announce that they’d reached their destination, only to nearly be trampled when Caldus slammed into her.

The Cathar gripped Fynta’s bicep to steady her, forcing a hiss when his hand squeezed the still healing claw marks. Caldus released her immediately, but his apology faded when his attention snagged on the gaudy entrance Fynta gestured to.

With a devious chuckle, Fynta headed into the lobby to secure their lodging. It took some haggling, a few threats of bodily injury, and someone’s mother being insulted before she and the front desk Neimoidian agreed on a price. Fynta tossed in a few extra for discretion.

“It could be worse.” Fynta stepped carefully over the well-trodden rugs and ignored the way her metal foot stuck to the floor.

Behind her, Caldus stood in the doorway while Altan tried to squeeze around him. “I fail to see how.” Finally, the Cathar relented to his brother’s incessant prodding and let the Togruta through. 

“We could be in that alley.” As if on cue, a fight broke out below. Fynta grinned at the impressive eye roll Caldus answered with. They might be on friendlier terms after the incident on the yacht, but he still didn’t like her.

Altan set his bags on the sofa and turned in a circle. “It has net access, no leaks, and I don’t sense any pests in the walls. Also, there is a market below that we can get easy meals from.”

”See?” Fynta dragged out the word, motioning to Altan. Then, she glanced over at him. “How does that work, anyway? The sensing pests thing.”

Altan tapped one of his montrals. “These give me enhanced spatial awareness, to the point of picking out hollows and blockages in enclosed spaces.”

”Ask him how many times he got lost in caves on Rishi,” Caldus murmured before turning his frown on the bed situation. “I guess I’ve got bottom.”

”Or,” Fynta held up a finger and moved Altan’s luggage to the table. Then, she pressed a keypad on the wall and the sofa unfurled with a cacophony of clicks and snaps. What emerged was a bed that should be big enough for the surly Cathar. “I planned ahead this time.”

One striped brow lifted as Caldus stared at the flat mattress, then sighed and slung his pack onto it. “Don’t know how to thank you,” he answered in a tone dry enough that even Altan chuckled.

Almost a day had passed since that disastrous boarding attempt on the yacht. Caldus still growled, but it rarely turned into a full snarl anymore. Occasionally, Fynta had caught him studying her and pretended not to notice. The Cathar would come around in his own time. 

Fynta swung her pack onto the top bunk since she was the smallest, then faced her crew. “Get suited up, because we’ve got some ground to cover today. Altan, you go in plain clothes.”

”Now that we’re here—“ Caldus eased onto the mattress, wincing when it creaked under his weight. “Care to tell us why it was so important to stay in the Nikto Sector first?”

”Because that’s where my contact has his shop set up.” Fynta stepped onto the mattress next to Altan to reach her bag. There hadn’t been time to clean her plates after the fight on the bridge, and they’d exited in plain clothes so that no one would know it had been them in the armour. She needed to give her gear a good scrubbing eventually. A wipe down would do for now. “We’re getting some Altan-approved gear.”

Fynta expected pushback from Caldus, but the Cathar surprised her again. “Beskar?” He was pulling his own items out, setting his helmet carefully on the bed beside him.

Digging through her pack while standing on Altan’s bed, Fynta answered over her shoulder. “Of course.” She didn’t notice that anything had fallen out until Caldus’s eyes darted to the floor. Fynta looked down to find Altan retrieving a small, stuffed tooka that had seen better days.

The Togruta offered it to Fynta with a tight smile. “Vor entye.” She dusted the pitiful creature off, then tossed it onto the top bunk next to her pillow. “I also gave him an idea of what we were looking for. Solus said bring your current beskar for melting and he will have a couple of other pieces you might like.”

Having finally liberated her armoured plates, Fynta hopped off Altan’s bed and landed with a loud enough clang that both brothers looked at her. Silence settled over the room, finally broken when Altan sighed. “Valk won’t be happy. She gave me that armour.”

Before Fynta could remind her younger friend that he was worth comfortable kit, Caldus grunted. ”Valk will get over it. She and Jos love you, but they never understood you. You’ve always needed lighter plates than that shit they piled on.”

Fynta looked up from buckling her boot to meet those fiery eyes focused on her instead of Altan. She nodded to the Cathar. “Then we agree. New gear for Altan.”

”It’s long overdue.” Caldus stood with his helmet. Crossing the room, he lifted the odd contraption that made Altan’s so unique, flicking the dangling bits that protected his lekku. “Maybe keep this, though. It was fitted specifically to you.”

”I wouldn’t trade this in,” Altan answered as he tucked it into the duffle with the rest of his gear. He didn’t look at Fynta, but she knew the explanation was for her. “I used to get lost when I was a kid. Struggled with right and left, forgetful and easily distracted. It didn’t help that my facial recognition skills were underdeveloped. I wore the mir'shupur on my helmet so if I was ever separated, clansmen would know to get me back to my buir. This was the helmet Valk gave me when I decided to stop wearing the sigil.”

Fynta crossed the room and placed a hand on the front of the helm. “It’s perfect.”

The moment lingered, and just when it would have turned awkward, Altan jumped and fished his comm from his pocket. “It’s a message from Jurr.”

Caldus sighed and slumped onto his new bed while Fynta moved closer to see what the chaotic woman was up to. Jurr appeared first with the sort of grin that usually meant trouble, another girl with dark skin who looked like she’d been taken hostage held against her side. “Hey Altan, look who we found!”

”Is that Mako?” Altan asked no one in particular, then bent closer to the recording.

“No. Fucking. Way.” Caldus stood, joining them as they crowded around Altan’s comm. 

Jurr’s laughter turned maniacal. “While you are off slumming on Nar Shaddaa, we are competing in the Great Hunt!” The one Fynta assumed was Mako gave a tolerant wave and managed to extricate herself from view. 

Caldus snorted and folded his arms. “Small galaxy.” Altan nodded without looking away from the redhead.

The scene shifted to show Torian way too close, and Fynta chuckled. She’d forgotten how much fun that group could be, and decided to make sure their paths crossed again soon for tales of glory and booze. “Be sure to let Fynta know what she’s missing out on. Jate oya'karir vod.”

“Mir’sheb,” Fynta huffed, but she couldn’t stop grinning. 

Stepping away to gather her weapons, Fynta pointed at the comm Altan had rewound to watch again. “They are in for all sorts of trouble, mark my word.”

Caldus huffed a laugh and bumped his shoulder against Altan’s. “Come on, we’ve got a schedule to keep.” 

It took Altan another ten minutes to set up extra security measures, then they were out into the filth-covered streets of Nar Shaddaa. The stale air of the hotel gave way to the humid press of exhaust, fried street food, ozone, and too many beings packed into too little space. Altan lifted his hood and pulled the strings tight.

Merchants shouted for attention, but Fynta pushed past them. The chorus quieted when Altan and Caldus passed through. Not because of their species, but because of how shabbing huge they were together. Caldus cut an impressive figure in his armour. Even without his, Altan stood heads above most of the people in the streets.

Finally, Fynta found the alley that led to the shop she was looking for. A bell rang, followed by the hurried footsteps and boisterous laugh of one of the few people left who had known her father. Solus opened his arms, and Fynta walked into them with a contented sigh. “My girl, you’ve grown.”

”Thank you for seeing us today.” She offered one more gentle squeeze. “Verin sends his love.”

”Bah, he should come tell me himself.” Solus waved for them to follow deeper into the shop. He locked the front door and palmed open a secret passage at the same time. Taking the stairs proved an arduous task, to which he tsked when Fynta gripped his elbow. “Old knees.”

Finally, they reached the bottom without comment from Altan or Caldus, and lights flickered on to reveal a furnace along with racks of gleaming metal. “Come here, ad, let’s check your measurements.”

Altan lowered his hood, then handed his duffle full of armour to Caldus. “You two go find something to do. This will take a couple of hours,” Solus said, pushing greying hair from his face, and Fynta noticed that the geometric tattoos across his nose and cheeks had creased with age. 

“Are you good, Altan?” Caldus asked, setting the duffle down with a clank on one of the work tables. Fynta waited too. While she trusted Solus with her life, he was new to the shy Togruta. If he said the word, they would sit in the corner and watch every step.

Altan looked between the old Mirialan busy with his tools, then back to Fynta, and finally to Caldus. “Go get our other supplies. I’ll comm you when I’m done here.”

“Yes,” Solus agreed. “We have conversations to have and fittings to attend. You’ll both get in the way. Your brother is safe here.”

Fynta offered an encouraging smile to Altan, then turned and headed for the stairs. Solus called after her, pointing to the back corner. “I’ve locked the shop, go out the back.”

Without another word, Caldus strode towards the hidden door and cracked it open to reveal a trash-filled alley devoid of sentient beings. He nodded to Fynta that it was clear, then disappeared. On her way out, Fynta dared to lay a hand on Altan’s bicep. “Try to have fun. You get to choose what suits you this time.” She left with the Togruta’s tight lipped smile burned into her memory.

Caldus waited at the end of the alley. He leaned against the building, arms crossed while watching the people passing by. While he wore his helmet, Fynta had kept hers hooked to her belt. She had practically grown up on this moon, and it felt wrong to hide her face from it.

”Now what?” Caldus straightened when Fynta joined him. The lunch crowd had moved into the streets, grumbling or gambling or staring into space. It was desolate and depressing; it was also as close to home as she’d known growing up.

”Food.” Fynta waited for a gap to open, then slid into it. She felt, more than heard, Caldus behind her. That eerie hush that followed him everywhere. 

Fynta led them to a bistro that had been at least four other restaurants in the time she’d been alive, all owned by the same man. Now, it held a sign flashing prices for noodle bowls with varying mixtures of meats and vegetables. The old market next door would be cheaper than the one below their room, so Fynta decided on lunch, then easy-prep meals for later.

A table opened just as they entered, and Fynta hurried towards it before someone else could take advantage. It was too small for Caldus, but then most things were. He crammed himself into the other side of the booth and tapped the built-in holo to study the menu.

Fynta didn’t bother looking at the menu. She always ordered the same thing at this bistro, a perfectly toasted cheese sandwich and soup. After waving away the server droid for the second time, she couldn’t ignore her companion anymore. 

“You’re staring.” Fynta gazed out the window, but it was difficult to miss those eyes. It was like she could feel their heat whenever Caldus watched her.

When the Cathar didn’t answer, Fynta signed and typed in her order, adding a nerf steak for him since he clearly wasn’t going to choose. “What?” she snapped, though a part of her wondered if the bastard was just getting even for all the times she’d been caught staring. 

“Why did you let them go?” Caldus didn’t comment on Fynta ordering for him, and there was an openness there that she’d misinterpreted as aggression. Clearly, she needed to learn to read Cathar features better.  

Fynta almost pretended not to know what Caldus was talking about, but one thing she had learned was that verbal sparring usually led to the snarling. She was trying to avoid provoking him too much since their truce. “Because Altan would have had to do it.”

Caldus’s head tipped a fraction, ears twitching and gaze steady. For someone who hated being looked at, the man had no problem staring Fynta down. She supposed that was the predator in him. She had a little in her too, so she met his glare with one of her own. “He told me that he wouldn’t kill for me, and I swore not to ask unless it was necessary. There was no way you and I could get to that pod before it launched. So either he’d have to disable it enough to ground it, or cut a vital system. Either way…”

”He’d be the one with blood on his hands,” Caldus finished. His gaze softened, but the nod was as sharp as ever. “Thank you for keeping your promise.”

Fynta leaned forward and lowered her voice, inviting Caldus to meet her or stay where he was. After a moment of hesitation, Caldus joined her. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep.” She knocked her knuckles twice on the table, then sat back. “Remember that, vod.”

Caldus opened his mouth, then closed it, the stripes tugging lines into his forehead. The food arrived, and still he watched her even as Fynta tore into her sandwich. Finally, the Cathar seemed to decide on what he wanted to say when a voice rang out over the crowd. “Fynta fucking Wolfe!”

___________

Once they reached the palace, Verin took the lead as the only one who had ever been there before. The main room boasted the expected sticky floor and slouched drunkards. An odd mixture of decadent fabrics and plush furniture combined with the sort of depravity that made his skin crawl. 

Verin didn’t linger, at least, but turned down the left corridor and up a flight of stairs. They moved unhindered until deep within the palace. Caldus thought that was a serious oversight in security. They were two floors up before running into their first checkpoint. Caldus wondered how big this palace was, and where the Hutt who owned it lived.

”State your business.” The Gammorrean grunted, leaning around to see the hutball game on the screen behind them.

Verin held his datapad in front of its face. Caldus realized he wasn’t sure if the creature in front of him was male or female. The guard blinked at the small screen, pretended it could read, then waved them on. 

Caldus caught a glimpse of Verin’s ticket as he tucked it away. A Pleasure Pass valued at nearly four thousand credits. For all her sneering about the business, Mako managed to snag them a top class entry. 

After counting off the rooms, Verin stopped and knocked twice, paused, then added a third before tapping his datapad against the locking mechanism. Caldus heard movement on the other side and held his arm out in front of Altan to stop the younger man from following. The resulting clang that had Verin stumbling backward from the room he’d entered brought Caldus unending satisfaction.

”Shab Fyn’ika,” Verin huffed from where he sat in the middle of the hallway. “Good thing my buc’ye was still on.”

The woman in question stormed from the room with a heavy bottle raised above her head. She stopped, dark brows raised. “Verin? What the hell are you doing here?” Deep blue found Caldus and Altan, her head tipping back. “And who are these beasts?”

A snarl slipped free from Caldus before he realized she was remarking on their size rather than their species. He still wore his helmet, and Altan was half hidden behind him so she couldn’t have made him for a Togruta yet. Caldus swallowed his retort and clamped his lips shut. 

“We’re here to rescue you.” Verin shoved up from the floor without the aid of those standing around him. “Didn’t you hear me knock?”

Fynta lowered her weapon, then jerked her head for them to move into the room. Verin harrumphed his way inside, while Caldus and Altan followed at a more respectful distance. He wasn’t sure that Fynta could reach his head without aid, but the parts she could reach he’d prefer to keep unassaulted. 

Once the door snapped shut, Fynta dropped the bottle on an overstuffed chair and set about drying her hair. It was only then that Caldus realized she wore little more than a sports bra and shorts. She had the kind of brown skin Caldus remembered seeing on workers who spent their lives in the sun. Her black hair was a matted mess of wet tangles that she attacked with a brush as if it were her nemesis. Caldus also noted that there was indeed a target tattoo surrounding a nasty bruise on her right eye. 

Upon closer inspection, Caldus could pick out the similarities between the Wolfe siblings, though Verin’s coloring was lighter all around. They shared those odd, ocean deep eyes, nose, and both looked to be well muscled and stocky. Caldus couldn’t keep his eyes from straying to the impressive set of abs emphasized by how little she wore. To say nothing of the definition of her thighs and arms. Then, he noticed the cybernetic that replaced her left leg from the knee down and glanced at his brother. Unsurprisingly, Altan’s gaze had locked on that. Caldus doubted the Togruta had even noticed the woman’s face.

“They took my comm,” Fynta huffed, waving the hairbrush now clogged with black strands at her brother. “I was going to get it from Cin tonight so I could let—our contact know that we move tomorrow.”

”Speaking of my lovely wife, where is she?” Verin removed his helmet and leaned a hip on the edge of the table, watching his sister with a warmth that made Caldus realize how much fear the man had bottled up on their trip here. It annoyed Caldus to find common ground with the hunter, but he had to admire Verin's poise. If Altan were in this situation, Caldus would be beside himself with—he shook his head, it didn’t bear consideration.

Still, Caldus couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what it meant to be an adult. He was heading towards his mid-twenties and still felt the need to ask Valk if he could go out for drinks with the guys. Even on this trip, he’d taken a backseat and let Verin make the decisions because he seemed to know what he was doing. Would that be Caldus one day? Would he wake up and find the galaxy made sense?

“She’ll be here soon,” Fynta answered, finally giving up on her hair and tossing the brush in the same direction as her improvised weapon. “She’s getting me some untainted food.” 

As if summoned, another set of coded knocks echoed from the door. Fynta shooed her brother out of her way and tapped the latch button to admit Cinlat. Verin rushed forward to take the bags from the tiny figure who entered behind him. 

Somehow, Caldus had envisioned the famed bounty hunter to be a giant. The larger than life winner of the Great Hunt some decade or so ago. This woman in the red and black beskar’gam didn’t even reach his chest. 

After pressing his forehead to his wife’s helmet, Verin dropped the bags on the table and dug through them. “Have they tried to drug you?”

”Succeeded once,” Cinlat answered, her voice deep and robotic through the helmet speakers. “I found her hunched over the toilet with half her hand down her throat and a fever that would have killed anyone with more brain cells."

Fynta shrugged and snagged a wrapped sandwich from her brother. “Still not sure what that was. It passed all the tests.”

Cinlat made a noise that Caldus couldn’t decipher and turned towards him. “You must be Beroya’s boys.”

Caldus dipped his head out of respect, but he wasn’t ready to join the conversation yet. There was a lot to process in this room. The woman they were joining forces sounded…chaotic. Caldus needed a moment to take it all in and decide if this contract was worth the risks if this was the normal life Fynta led.

Then again, Cinlat and Verin were revered. Even Fynta had a reputation that Mando’ade whispered about. Apart from being a massive brute who could track game, Caldus had no such clout. He would never get any either unless he took risks. Fynta seemed to attract plenty of those.

 Verin invaded his sister's personal space, trying to examine the blackened eye. She batted him away, even going so far as to plant her natural foot in his stomach and shove. The man folded his arms and frowned. “What happened?”

“Zigged when I should have zagged.” When Verin’s frown deepened, Fynta rolled her eyes like the petulant little sister she’d probably been. “It’s the Pits, di’kut, what do you think happened?”

When Verin only huffed in response, Fynta went back to the bag for seconds. “We’ll call it a lesson learned.” 

Caldus heard Altan’s stomach rumble and made a mental note to find something to eat when they were done here. Fynta beat him to it, holding out a wrapped skewer towards the Togruta. “It’s probably a rodent. Helps not to sniff it before you eat.” 

To Caldus’s surprise, Altan accepted, and the skewer vanished into the depths of his hood. Fynta made no remark on the odd behavior, but continued her story while crumpling up the empty bag. “Tomorrow is the auction fight. Once I win, I’ll be taken to the platform where our source says the kids are.”

”You’re sure about this?” Verin’s brows pulled together, a strange expression crossing his face. Now that he was back with his wife and sister, the easy going facade that he’d presented to everyone at the enclave slipped.

For his part, Caldus’s attention perked up at the mention of auctioning off kids. Even Altan had gone completely still, the half eaten skewer dangling from his fingers. 

”I confirmed it when I got here.” Cinlat leaned against Verin’s side, and he slid an arm around her. “It’s the only reason I’m still here.”

Fynta gestured at the two hunters with the remains of her sandwich. “Once I figure out where they are being kept, we can figure out how to get them off world.”

”Can our Friend help out,” Verin asked his wife, before settling his glare on Fynta. “Since it’s kind of her fault we’re in this situation in the first place. She should’ve known better than to give half baked intel to Fynta.” 

Cinlat’s helmet angled as well, and Caldus felt like he was missing an entire portion of this conversation. Fynta threw her hands up, crumpling the food wrapper in the process. “We would've taken the job eventually. I just did the heavy lifting.”

An audible sigh wheezed through Cinlat’s speakers, and Caldus resisted the urge to smirk. “Regardless,” the hunter began. “Yes, I have contacts. Now, we just need to get into the fights so we can offer backup.”

”About that.” Verin gestured at Altan with the hand not hugging his wife close. “It seems our boy here is good at more than sharpshooting.”

At the sudden shift of attention, Altan slinked deeper into his hood. He didn’t edge behind Caldus, though. Clearly, the Togruta wanted to stand alone, he just didn’t want to be perceived while doing so. Caldus flexed his fingers to resist stepping in front of his brother.

”He has a little friend on planet,” Verin continued as if he didn’t notice Altan’s discomfort. That irritated Caldus, though he swallowed his grumblings. “She got us in here tonight and a VIP box next to an exit.”

”Smart girl,” Cinlat commented. 

An alert chimed on Verin’s datapad, a warning that his time with the champion was at an end. The man stood and strode across the room to where his sister leaned against her desk. “We’ll find a way to communicate with you during the fight. Whatever happens, roll with it.” 

“I always do,” the woman grinned back. 

Verin rolled his eyes, then wrapped one hand around Fynta’s neck and bumped their foreheads. “Stay out of trouble until then.”

Fynta chuckled and shoved him away. “Ori’pel.”

With a snort, Verin waved for everyone to head out. Caldus waited until Cinlat was between him and Verin before following, but paused when he realized that Altan hadn’t moved. The Togruta reached up and lowered his hood, dipping his head. “It was nice meeting you.”

”Likewise,” Fynta beamed, surprising Altan into a smile of his own. Then, he covered himself with the hood again and scurried after Verin and Cinlat.

Caldus stared at the woman for a moment longer. Fynta met his visor’s gaze easily. “What’s up, Cabur?” He frowned at the word. Caldus had been with Valk and Jos for seven years. He spoke Mando’a fluently, but word usage varied from clan to clan.

“Good luck, tomorrow.” Caldus ducked through the door before Fynta could answer, straightening on the other side. “Where to now?”

”I’d like to talk to Mako again,” Altan chimed, then more forcefully. “I think she might be able to help us with our communication issue with Fynta.”

”Then that’s where we go.” Cinlat’s voice rasped through the speakers, and Caldus couldn’t help but wonder what she looked and sounded like beneath the armour. Clearly, she used the armour to hide her identity. It wasn’t unheard of, but becoming more rare. Even the official Hunt records only ever pictured the woman inside a completely sealed set of beskar’gam. 

The group walked in silence through the palace, just four Mandalorians looking for a good time. Once outside, Cinlat paused, her vizor tilting up at Caldus, then over to Altan. He saw the moment his claws caught her attention. 

“You Cathar?” The fact that she’d figured it out so quickly had Caldus nodding in agreement before he could stop himself. When she looked over at Altan, her next statement carried more weight. “I heard Jos and Valk had taken in a couple of alien boys, but that is unexpected.” 

Caldus remained silent, so Verin answered. “We aren’t allowed to ask.”

“It was better than being an Imperial slave,” Caldus answered, mostly to spite Verin. While the man had been nothing but friendly, he rubbed Caldus the wrong way.

”That’s fair,” Cinlat answered and didn’t ask for more. The tension in Caldus’s shoulders relaxed a modicum that she didn’t expect the full story from him. 

As they walked, Caldus glanced at his brother every so often, noting that he’d been buried in his datapad since they left. Finally, Altan took up position on the opposite side of Verin, placing both hunters between the brothers. “You’ve done this often. Freed slaves.” It wasn’t a question that required an answer, but Cinlat gave a sharp nod of her helmet.

To his knowledge, Caldus was the only slave freed by Mandalorians. They were allied with the Empire, where owning other beings was not only legal, but a sign of status. Seeing others from a different clan doing so caused an unwelcome bloom of hope in him. Caldus crushed it immediately and changed the subject. “What do we do for the rest of the night?” 

Verin took the lead as they crossed the threshold into the noisy cantina. Weaving through the back hallways with Cinlat and Altan falling behind and Caldus slumping into the rear. “We plan,” Verin answered while looking over his shoulder. Whatever else he might have added turned into a strangled yelp when the hum of an energy blade hovered at his throat. 

Caldus pulled his blaster at the same time as Cinlat and Altan. He might not enjoy Verin’s company, but he’d be damned if the man got himself killed on his watch. A treacherous voice warned that if Fynta was as careless as her brother, then the mission was already a failure. Caldus crushed that thought too. He needed this to work. 

The woman who pinned Verin against the wall was no bigger than Cinlat, with dark hair and angry pale eyes. It was the green beam of energy that held Caldus’s attention, though. “Who are you? More of his lackeys?” Her hissed words were accompanied by a flash of blunt teeth.

Verin’s hands raised slowly. “We might be in the wrong room.”

”Release him, or I’ll add a new hole to that pretty face, girl,” Cinlat snarled. For all her aloofness earlier, Caldus caught the undercurrent of possession. He couldn’t pretend to understand the older couple, but there was no doubt that Verin belonged to her.

”Whoa, what the—“ Mako ran into the room, shoving Altan’s arm away when he tried to bar her path. “Easy, these are friendlies. Sheesh, I leave for five minutes and you’re all ready to kill each other.”

The woman with the energy blade eased back, but she didn’t release Verin. “You know these Mandalorians, Mako?”

”Yeah, well, mostly.” Mako’s brown eyes widened when they landed on the newest member of the group. “No way, you’re Cinlat. I’ve read all about your tactics. Do you mind if I pick your brain a little? This is our champion for the Great Hunt, Noara Naberrie, and I’d love to get a professional’s opinion.”

”Only if she lets my husband go.” Cinlat’s voice remained tight, her blaster still leveled on the younger woman. Caldus appreciated the lack of shake in her hold. 

Finally, the dark haired woman deactivated her weapon and pushed away from Verin. “Sorry, we’ve run into some bad luck with Mandalorians lately.” The hardness in those icy blue eyes made it clear enough what kind of troubles she meant. A hypothesis confirmed when Mako’s shoulders slumped and her mood dulled.  

The woman looked to her friend. “Are you okay with them? I need to—do something.” If she was a contender for the Hunt, Caldus didn’t blame her for being discreet.