[Republic Commando] - 02(144)

And Atin had Laseema on his arm, gazing at him adoringly, even if he did still have a striking black eye from his fight with Vau.

But no Etain, and no Vau. Vau had gone off on another job-unspecified, of course. Darman was still here, though, and that meant Etain was, too, for the time being.

Ordo seemed to be concentrating on the doorway. “What’s your problem, ner vod?”

“Agent Wennen said she would come,” Ordo said. He looked uncharacteristically awkward, seeming for once as if he didn’t know what to do next. “I’ll have a look around. It’s a big bar.”

Obrim watched him go. “Fi,” he said, “do you mind me asking you something personal?”

“I always try to help police with their inquiries, Captain.”

“Seriously, son. Kal talks to me about you all. I never knew how you were… bred for all this. Sorry. I can’t find another word for it. You don’t seem to resent it at all. I’d be furious. Aren’t you angry? Not just a little?”

Fi wished Obrim didn’t make him think. In a way it was much, much simpler on Kamino. It was also easier being alone with only your squad for company on some osik’la planet blowing up droids. There was a clean focus in that. Coruscant had indeed been the hardest battlefield of all, as Sergeant Kal had warned him. But that wasn’t because it was rife with the dangers of not knowing if the enemy was standing right next to you. It was because it showed him what he could never have.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking in the past year,” Fi said. “Yes, there’s plenty wrong. I know I deserve more than this. I want a nice girl and a life and I don’t want to die. And I know I’m being used, thanks. But I’m a soldier, and I’m also Mandalorian, and my strength is always going to be what I carry around inside me, my sense of who and what I am. Even if the rest of the galaxy sinks in its own filth, I’ll die without compromising my honor.” He drained his glass and started on the next one that was lined up on the bar. He wasn’t that fond of the taste, but he believed in being polite. “That’s what keeps me going. That, and my brothers. And that ale you promised me.”

“I had to ask.” Obrim frowned quickly and looked away for a moment. “Did that drink really keep you going?”

He thought of the insertion into Fest months before. “Yeah, Captain. Sometimes it did.”

Fi dreaded where the conversation might take him but he was interrupted by a loud cheer from farther down the bar. Skirata had arrived and was demonstrating his skill in the knife-throwing game. He let fly with his vicious three-sided knife, knocking the other knives out of the woodwork time after time. The bar droid protested.

“He’s way too good at that,” Obrim said, and turned to Fi again to resume the conversation. “Now, about this-“

Fi didn’t want to discuss it anymore. He straightened up and called across the bar to Skirata. “Sarge? Sarge! Want to show ‘em the Dha Werda?”

There was a whoop of “Kandosii!” from the squads. “Yeah, come on, Sarge! Let’s show them how it’s done!”

“I’m too old,” Skirata said, retrieving his knife.

“Nah,” Fi said, and seized the chance to drag Skirata away from the game. “You taught us this, remember?”

Skirata took the invitation and limped over to join the two squads, who quickly cleared a space in the bar. Ordo, Mereel, and Jusik joined them; Corr stood back, uncertain. Troopers rarely got the chance to see the ritual chant, let alone learn it.

“I haven’t had enough to drink yet,” Skirata said, “but I’ll give it a go.”

Without his armor, he looked even smaller among his commandos than usual. The chant started up.

Taung-sa-rang-bro-ka!

Je-tii-se-ka-‘rta!

Dha-Wer-da-Ver-da-a’den-tratu!

He fell into the rhythm instantly, keeping perfect time, taking rhythmic blows on his leather jacket that normally fell on hard armor. He was a battle-hardened warrior like his lads, just older.

Fi winked at him, careful to allow for their difference in height.

Cor-u-scan-ta-kandosii-adu!

Duum-mo-tir-ca-‘tra-nau-tracinya!

Skirata kept up the relentless pace for verse after verse. Fi caught sight of white armor in his peripheral vision and ARC Trooper Captain Maze appeared from the crowd of CSF officers who were watching openmouthed with glasses of ale in their hands.

“Mind if I join in?” Maze said.

Fi had no intention of trying to stop an ARC trooper. Maze slipped into the line next to Ordo and smiled at his brother captain in a way Fi didn’t quite like.

As Skirata always told outsiders, the Dha Werda took stamina, timing, and total trust in your comrades. Complex rhythms sharpened your brain and taught you to think as one. Turn too fast or too late, and you’d get a nasty smack in the face. It was performed without buy ‘cese.