Chapter Text
Ambling in the Dark
(Is it Enough?)
Obi-wan finds the group of Mandalorians to be surprisingly inquisitive as they transverse the long stone corridors. He’s become a tour guide of sorts, sharing trivial information about the Temple itself and interesting tidbits about various artifacts.
Suddenly, one of the Mandalorians stops to admire a tall tapestry depicting the Army of Light. It’s old and frayed, but the miniature figures of Jedi are clearly visible in the woven threads. The Mandalorian who stopped is adorned in a red cape. Their armor is matte black with the sign of the mythosaur outlined in blue on their chest plate.
Due to the recent non-aggression treaty signed between the Galactic Republic and Mandalorian League of Clans, there has been an influx of news coverage about Mandalorians. Because of this, Obi-wan recognizes the armor as that of the Mand’alor, the sole ruler of Mandalore.
“When did the Jettise give up their amor?” The Mand’alor asks.
Their basic is accented with an outer rim drawl, sounding gruff with sharply punctuated words. However, even with the distorted sound from the vocorder, Obi-wan can tell that they are genuinely curious. Peripherally, he notices that Jango’s force presence radiates fond exasperation. It seems the Manda’lor’s curiosity often derails official proceedings.
“Thousands of years ago,” Obi-wan replies. He gazes at the tapestry but doesn’t see the fabric. Light and shadow ripple in his vision, like ghosts marching away from him. They vanish as he blinks.
He turns to face the Mand’alor. “When the Ruusan Reformation was implemented, one of the Senate’s conditions were demilitarization. The Jedi vowed to dissolve their standing army and laid down their armor as proof.”
For a few moments, his face takes on a bitter caste. “We have long been beholden to the Senate, gradually stripped of our independence over the years. There is truth to the names labeling us as dogs of the Senate.”
The sudden sharp tang of interest and wariness is overwhelming in the force.
In a sudden reversal, Obi-wan smiles charmingly. “I apologize, that was inappropriate for me to say. Do you have any other questions before we move towards the meeting area?”
The force wavers with curiosity, weighty and dense.
Suddenly, tiny footsteps scurry down the hall. A little orange-and-white blur runs across the stone and clambers up Obi-wan as if he were a tree. The little figure comes to a rest draped across his shoulders, nuzzling his cheek with a soft purr.
It’s a baby Torgruta with stubby montrals and large blue eyes.
The Mandalorians startle, hands twitching towards their blasters in surprise. Feemor silently steps between Obi-wan and the group, visibly bulking up to hide the youngling from view. In response, the Mandalorians take a step back, spreading their empty hands to show they mean no harm.
Feemor scans them for a long moment, before stepping aside slightly, returning to his place alongside Obi-wan.
The gentle sound of laughter breaks the lingering tension as Obi-wan cuddles the baby Torgruta. The baby shows a sharp-toothed grin as they pat Obi-wan’s face, eliciting his laughter. The musical sound fills the corridor and the Mandalorians relax fully.
“Hello there, little ‘Soka! What’re you up to today?”
She trills loudly. Obi-wan gasps in exaggerated surprise. “You’re off to the Room of a Thousand Fountains? How delightful! The rhododendrons are in full bloom today, so please enjoy them.”
He tries lift her off his shoulders, but the baby clings stubbornly, chirping inquisitively.
“Together with me? I’m sorry Ahsoka, I’d love to come, but I have important work to do right now. However, if you let me go, I’ll come play this afternoon. How does that sound?”
Ashoka buries her face in his cloak hood, refusing to leave.
Obi-wan adopts a tone of resignation, “That’s too bad. I was going to bring some Tatooine spiced bantha jerky with me as a reward for good behavior, but I guess it’s too late now...”
In a flash, Ashoka tumbles off him. She skips down the corridor trilling cheerfully. Obi-wan watches until she turns the corner, smiling gently.
“I see again that you have a gift for children,” Jango says. “Boba has been asking for you. Perhaps after these negotiations are finished, you might visit Keldabe’ka again.”
Startled, Obi-wan turns to face the group of Mandalorians. A brief look of astonishment flashes across his face.
“I’m sorry, but who is Boba?” He lies reflexively.
Jango Fett laughs warmly. “Mandalorians are a warrior culture. Many of us wear full-coverage armor. Did you think we recognize people solely from their face and voice?” He replies in a warm tone.
“Styles of walking, standing habits, and body language help us identify people. At first, I was unsure, but now I’m certain. You are the silver-tongued Temple Guard who returned my son to me. And,” he gestures to Feemor, “This is your partner from that time as well.”
Obi-wan blinks, a little taken aback by the confident deduction. Perhaps he could lie again, but it would only underscore any distrust the Mandalorians already held. Instead, he smiles.
“Since I am no longer a part of the guard, I am free to confirm that I was the Temple Guard who escorted Boba. As such, the Order felt it appropriate for me to lead these negotiations due to my previous experience with your culture.”
“That will smooth things along,” Jango states, nodding approvingly. His helmet turns to the Mand’alor briefly. “I think a longer tour can wait; would you lead us to the meeting chambers?”
“Of course,” Obi-wan nods. “Please, come this way.”
Eventually, they reach a large room, commonly used for group meditation. Cushions of varying colors are arranged in two semi-circles, facing each other. A single cushion sits between the two groups on one side of the room.
Four Jedi rise to face the Mandalorians as they enter the room. In uncanny synchronization, the Jedi nod in welcome. Seeing them nod rather than bow, Obi-wan realizes that the council had actually read his briefing notes to prepare for the meeting. The acknowledgment feels him with warmth.
“Please, take a seat.” Obi-wan indicates the cushions opposite the Jedi. Once the Mandalorians settle on the cushions, some are sprawled rather casually, Obi-wan gestures to the Jedi Masters.
“Let me introduce the Jedi Masters here today. This is Master Yoda, the Grandmaster of our Order; Master Mace Windu, Head of the Order and High Council; Master Cin Drallig, Battlemaster; and Master Plo Koon, part of the council of Remediation, which oversees diplomacy.”
Each master nods solemnly at their introduction, though Yoda’s ears wiggle in suppressed delight.
“Well met,” says a Mandalorian in dove grey armor with pale teal vambraces. They remove their helmet, revealing a middle-aged man with blonde hair turning sliver and vivid blue eyes. He glances at Obi-wan.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Padawan Kenobi.”
“You as well Duke Kryze,” Obi-wan replies with a slight smile. Kryze’s eyes crinkle in delight.
“I am Adonais Kryze, Head of Foreign Relations. With me are Senior Ambassador, Myles Fett; Head of Military, Kal Skirata; Head of Trade & Agriculture, Jango Fett; and Jaster Mereel, our Mand’alor. the sole ruler of the Mandalorian League of Clans.”
One by one, the others remove their helmets. Kal Skirata is a hard looking man with craggy features and sandy brown hair. Myles Fett is a blue-skinned Pantoran with lavender hair and warm blue eyes. Jango Fett is dark haired and brown-skinned, with golden eyes that glitter fiercely.
Lastly the Mand’alor removes their helmet to reveal a middle-aged man with salt-and-pepper hair and a nose that had been broken more than once. His broad face holds laugh lines and his hazel eyes glint with intelligence.
Without their helmets, their Force presence becomes easier to read. Kryze, Jango, and Myles radiate goodwill and anticipation, whereas Skirata is wary but not hostile. Mereel is quiet in the Force, indicating a man in complete control of themselves and their emotions. Obi-wan can only sense a faint impression of curiosity and gratitude.
“I am Jaster Mereel of Clan and House Mereel. Well met council of Jettise.” Mereel introduces himself again.
He turns to Obi-wan solemnly. “You saved my grandchild, Jango’s child. For that, I am in your debt.”
The Jedi startle at the news that the Mandalorian child was the Mand’alor’s family. They exchanged looks, that incident had greater implications than they imagined.
Meerel bows his head deeply. The other Mandalorians follow suit, bowing towards Obi-wan.
“No debt,” Obi-wan says firmly, feeling his face flame with embarrassment. “Children are precious; they deserve to be nurtured and protected. Instead, you honor us with your presence today.” Habitually, he taps fist above his heart. It’s a sign of acknowledgment from one warrior to another that he picked up on Mandalore.
The steady hum of interest from other Mandalorians increases slightly. However, Obi-wan ignores it, steadily looking at Mereel instead.
Mereel gazes resolutely back, scanning Obi-wan and the other Jedi Masters.
“Since introductions are over, let us begin the negotiation of an alliance between the Jedi Temple of Coruscant and the Mandalorian League of Clans,” Kryze says.
“Ja, let us begin,” Mereel agrees, gesturing to Kryze, who removes a datapad from his bag. He hands it to Obi-wan, who displays the contents above a hand-held terminal.
Once everyone has a chance to glance at the document, Kryze begins to speak.
“In repayment of this debt, we offer terms that align with the previous stated concerns. One, an exclusive trade agreement with the Coruscant Temple, without import tax for the next five years. Two, certain safehouses along the Hydian Way will be designated for exclusive use by the Jedi Order. The number and location determined by their needs. And third, a direct communication line to our intelligence office will be established to cross-check incidents of Mandalorians in Republic Space or vice-versa, Jedi in Mandalorian Space.”
Stunned silence descends upon the group.
“I’m sorry,” Mace begins slowly, rubbing his forehead as if in pain. “But for clarification’s sake, why are you willing to offer such generous terms? Historically our peoples have been nothing but enemies. And more recently,” he glances at Obi-wan. “The incident at Galdiraan did nothing but harm our relationship.”
Skirata slams a fist on the table. “Do not speak of Galidraan, Jetti! You are nothing but the dogs of the Republic.”
“Kal.” Mereel reprimands sternly. With a grumble Skirata subsides, but glares around the room.
“Please excuse him,” Kryze soothes. “He witnessed Galidraan himself, and the sight of Jedi arriving with lit lightsabers is not one easy to forget.” The reprimand is subtle but clear.
“We take responsibility for the previous misunderstanding,” Obi-wan states. “Fortunately, there were no casualties due to the Mand’alor’s wise actions. In fact,” he glances at the Jedi Masters, who radiate agreement, “this incident is proof of our need to establish communication. We can no longer blindly trust the Senate’s fact checking. In addition to Galidraan, there has been other evidence of tampering with other mission requests.”
“So, it’s true,” Jango interrupts, “Coruscant is no longer safe for the Jedi.”
Plo Koon bows his head, speaking through his anti-oxygen mask. “That is correct. Long have we been safe here in the city of lights, but no longer. Our sense of duty held us to our posts long past the time to leave. Thus, we now seek to lessen the influence of the Republic Senate and return to our mandate as a religious order to serve those in need.”
“Bluntly speaking, the return of one child is a small act. Your terms seem overly generous. So, what benefit does this alliance bring you?” Mace Windu asks again, more firmly.
“One good deed does not undo past wrongs,” Mereel states calmly. “Yet, it can open the door to new beginnings. I believe this is a chance to move on from past grievances and forge strong bonds in an unwelcome galaxy.”
He leans forward, catching the eyes of each Jedi Master one-by-one. Mereel is an imposing presence, full of charisma.
“While I have signed a non-aggression treaty with the Republic Senate. It is a toothless tiger in the face of how my people are treated by the wider galaxy. Discrimination, economic obstruction, and other obstacles lie in the way of our prosperity. Only recently have we resolved the decades long war within our own sector, now it is time to face the galaxy.”
He turns to Obi-wan. “I have heard many things about you, Obi-wan Kenobi. Five years ago, your assistance in protecting Alor Kryze and his children showed us determination, integrity, and upholding one’s duty. Just last week, you displayed kindness and gentleness while protecting a child. If you are the standard by which we judge the Jettise, then these terms are insufficient.”
Interest sharpens in the Force as all the Jedi focus intently on the man before them. The Force whispers softly, soothingly, contentedly. This is where hope begins. Obi-wan thinks.
“Unlike my predecessors,” Mereel continues, “I have long believed our two cultures are somewhat similar based on historical analysis. However, Mandalorians have long memories and are slow to forgive. Recently there has been no chance to reconcile. Except through you, Obi-wan Kenobi.”
Mereel looks at Mace Windu, arching an eyebrow. “You ask, what are the benefits? Through this alliance, I believe that we will gain access to more of the Jettise’s services, the Medical Corps and Agricultural Corp, in particular. Concord Dawn may be the only agricultural world in our system, but I have hopes to expand.”
“My ambitions are not few,” he states gravely, “and the Jettise will help me make the galaxy a better place for my people.”
Silence weighs heavily in the meeting room as each person considers what has been said. Like a song in the wind, Obi-wan can hear the Force chiming delicately. It’s light and lively. To him, it sounds like hope.
After that, the meeting proceeds smoothly.
A few hours later, Obi-wan finds it a relief to escort the Mandalorians out of the Temple. As he sees them to the main plaza, a hand gently taps on Obi-wan’s shoulder. He turns around to see Myles, waiting on the steps with a smile on his face.
“Here,” he holds out a small lothcat figurine. “I found this in Boba’s pockets after his small adventure to the Temple. He said you gave it to him.”
“I did,” Obi-wan replied, accepting the figurine. “Though I didn’t expect to see it again. He could have kept it.”
Myles laughs good naturedly. “No, I recognized the craftsmanship. It’s from Sundari, right? From one of the gorans of house Kryze? I figured it was precious to you.”
Shocked by his accurate guess, for a few moments Obi-wan could only look at the figurine. It had been a gift, from one of the forges in a small village just outside Sundari. The beskar is worn smooth by the countless times he’s held it. Its slightly force nullifying properties have soothed him innumerable times over the last few years, especially after his visions.
“Thank you.” Obi-wan manages to say around the lump in his throat.
“No debt,” Myles replies. “Instead, come down to Little Keldabe again. I want to treat you to drinks and real Mandalorian food. Nothing like that tasteless stuff they’ve got in Sundari.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t impose.” Obi-wan automatically deflects.
“I won’t take no for an answer,” Myles grins broadly. “I need to repay the one who rescued my son somehow.”
“Your son?”
“Boba is my child,” he says cheerfully, “and Jango is my partner. As the father, I got first offer for this assignment. So, I was able to beat out all the other ambassadors to come here.”
“Boba really wants to see you again,” he adds meaningfully, “he’s been begging me every night.”
Obi-wan blinked, a little taken aback. “Well, in that case. I might be able to swing by sometime.”
“Oya! I look forward to it.”
A little ways away, Jango calls out to his partner. The other Mandalorians are waiting patiently in the plaza. Myles gives them a wave, turning back to Obi-wan.
“Anyway, it’s time for us to go. Boba’s waiting.” He pats Obi-wan on the shoulder before moving past him, heading down the steps.
“Stay alive, Kenobi!” He calls over his shoulder.
Obi-wan watches the five Mandalorians walk across the plaza under the cheerful afternoon sun. After an hour or so, twilight will come, and night will set in. Amid the darkness, the unknown will no longer be overwhelming for many stand together to light the way.
Ambling in the dark
Who knows what you’ll find
A single light to guide the way
Is it enough? Is it enough,
For you and I?
Yes, it is.
And better yet,
Two is greater than one.