“Bardan, I have a question I can only ask of you.”

He turned and smiled. “I'll answer if I can.”

“How do I tell Darman in Mandalorian that I love him?”

She waited for Jusik to express some shock or disapproval. He blinked a few times, focusing on a nonexistent spot a few meters ahead. “I don't think he's completely fluent in Mando'a. The Nulls are, though.”

“I don't want to declare my love for Ordo, thanks.”

“Okay. Try … ni kar'tayli gar darasuum.”

She repeated it under her breath a few times. “Got it.”

“It's the same word as 'to know,' 'to hold in the heart,' kar'taylir. But you add darasuum, forever, and it becomes something rather different.”

“That tells me a great deal about the Mandalorian view of relationships.”

“They believe that complete knowledge of someone is the key to loving them. They don't like surprises and hidden facets. Warriors tend not to.”

“Pragmatic people.”

“A pity we Jedi weren't better friends with them, then. We could enjoy being pragmatic together.”

“You haven't lectured me on attachment. Thank you.”

Jusik turned to her with a broad smile that could only have come from being at complete peace with himself. He indicated his body with a flourish of his hands: dull green Mandalorian armor in the form of body plates and greaves. The matching helmet with its sinister T-shaped slit in the visor stood on the floor beside him.

“You think,” he said, “that I'll be walking back into the Jedi Temple wearing this? You think this isn't attachment?”

He really did find it funny. He laughed. The two of them were everything the Jedi Order wouldn't approve of. “Zey would throw a fit.”

“Kenobi wears trooper armor.”

“General Kenobi does not speak Mandalorian.” She found Jusik's laughter infectious, and tinged with the exhaustion and frightened relief that was often so evident in Fi. “And his soldiers don't address him as Little Obi-Wan.”

Jusik became sober again. “Our code was written when we were peacekeepers. We've never fought a war, not like this, not using others. And that changes everything. So I shall remain attached, because my heart tells me it's right. If remaining a Jedi means that is incompatible, then I know the choice I'll make.”

“You've made it,” Etain said.

“And so have you.” He made a vague gesture in the direction of her belly. “I can sense as much. I know you too well now.”

“Don't.”

“This is going to be very difficult for both of you, Etain.”

“Darman doesn't know yet. You're not to mention it to anyone. Promise me.”

“Of course I won't. I owe Darman a great deal. All of the men, in fact.”

“You're going to kill yourself trying to live up to them.”

“Then that's fine by me,” said Jusik.

Jusik didn't want to be a peacemaker. If the Force hadn't manifested itself in him, he could have been a scientist, an engineer, a builder of astonishing things. But he wanted to be a soldier.

And Etain had to be one, too, whether she wanted to or not, because her troops needed her to be one. But as soon as the war was over, she would leave the Jedi Order and follow a harder but sweeter destiny.

Skirata set the green speeder down on the landing platform with a certain amount of satisfaction. He'd get Enacca to change the color and make it disappear from the licensing system, but that was routine work for her. She was furious at having to pick up so many of the team's speeders, sometimes abandoned when they had no choice, but a few extra credits would soothe her.

Vau eased out of the hatch on the passenger's side and Mird loped up to him, rumbling and whining happily.

“I'm going to treat myself to a glass of tihaar,” Skirata said. “If the strill wants to sleep inside tonight, it's welcome.”

“I might join you in that drink.” Vau scooped Mird, up in his arms again. “Not a textbook operation by any means, but the men put a decent dent in the opposition in a very short time.”

It almost felt like a civilized relationship. It felt that way right up to the moment the doors opened and they almost stumbled over Fi. He held out both arms as a barrier.

“Sarge, Atin's in a foul mood.” He turned to Vau, who set Mird down on the carpet and removed his helmet. “I don't think you should go near him, Sergeant Vau.”

Vau just lowered his chin slightly and looked resigned. “Let's get it over with.”

“No—”

“Fi, this is between me and him.”

Skirata's immediate instinct was to intervene, but this time he suspected Vau would come off worse, and that had a certain sense of justice to it. While he respected the man's skill and integrity, he loathed him at a gut level for his brutality. And for him, that erased all the virtues in Vau.

He said he did it for their own good: it was to reinforce their Mando identity, to save their lives, to save their souls. His lads even believed it. Skirata never would.

“I've been waiting, Sarge,” said Atin's voice.

Skirata pulled Fi back. Ordo and Mereel, still working on neutralizing the booby-trapped thermal plastoid, looked up, wary, waiting for his signal to get involved. He gave them a discreet shake of the head. Not yet. Leave it.

Atin wore his right gauntlet and his bodysuit. He extended the vibroblade from the knuckle plate and held his fist up at his shoulder, then sheathed the blade.

“If that strill starts on me, I'll take it out, too.”

It was a side of Atin that Skirata had never seen before, but one that Vau had built. It was the little bit of Jango, the gene that said Stand and fight, don't run, another genetic tendency that could be nurtured and developed and trained into something much bigger than itself.

Vau held his arms at his sides and looked genuinely frustrated. Atin never understood why he'd done it. And neither did I, Skirata thought. You save a man from being dar'manda by teaching him his heritage, not by making him into a wild animal.

Vau's voice had softened. “You had to be Mando, Atin. If I didn't make you Mando, you might as well have been dead, because you wouldn't exist as a Mando'ad, not without your spirit and your guts.” He was almost apologetic. “You had to be able to cross that threshold and be ready to do absolutely anything to win. Fierfek, if stupid Jedi hadn't used you as infantry on Geonosis, every single one of my commando batch would be alive today. I made you hard men because I cared.”

Skirata was glad Vau didn't use the word love. He'd have put his own knife in the man's guts if he had. He stood clear, hauling Fi away by his arm, and Atin surged forward to seize Vau by his shoulder plates and head-butt him. Vau staggered back a few steps, blood pouring from his nose, but didn't go down. Mird squealed frantically and went to defend its master but Vau sent it back with a hand command.

“Udesii, Mird. I can handle this.”

“Okay, handle this,” Atin said, and swung a punch.

It was hard to fight a man in Mandalorian armor but Atin, true to his name, was going to do it. His blow caught Vau just below the eye and he followed up with a ferocious lunge to slam him against the wall and press his arm across his throat. Vau reverted to animal instinct and brought his knee up in Atin's gut, driving him far enough back to smash his elbow into his face.

Do I stop this? Can I? Skirata stood ready.

The blow stopped Atin for a few seconds. Then he just came straight back at Vau and charged into him, knocking him flat and pinning him to the floor, pounding away at him with his fists, hitting armor as often as flesh. By this time the noise of bodies and the still's squeals of protest had woken people and Jusik came running just as Atin ejected his vibroblade with a sickening shunk and had it raised, elbow held high, to punch it into Vau's exposed neck.