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This couldn’t be happening.
Niner sounded as pained as he felt when he said, “Ordo.”
“I’m thinking,” Ordo automatically answered, internally stomping on the rising panic just as quickly until they were nothing but flickering embers.
Kark. Fuck. This was precisely why he wasn’t interested in this kind of thing; shit would hit the fan earlier than he’d like.
Niner hummed, and Ordo was thankful their helmets were set to internal comms for them to privately express their fuck-up. “Think faster and answer, or we’ll risk offending them.”
“How do you even answer this without offending them?” Ordo curtly retaliated.
“I’m sure other people would have jumped at the chance of being offered their hand in marriage by the local prince,” Niner mused dryly, letting Ordo’s tone slide.
The prince in question wasn’t so much a prince, but the Chief in Waiting of this small island on the coast of Shili. A togruta with high montrals swirled with vermilion sprawled in his throne by his father’s right arm, his posture relaxed and unbothered while long ochre limbs were arranged callously on his seat. The elaborate headpiece worn on his head told everyone present who he was, and his bright green eyes prodded curiously around their helmets, clearly wondering what exactly brought them into his home.
There were several other people who sat on the rattan carpet, three on each side of the room, and Ordo could only guess that they were some sort of ministers who would hold a voice in making decisions for the people.
The Chief’s weathered eyes steadily held his visor, and Ordo felt as if quicksand was steadily pulling him inwards, swallowing him whole.
“Chief Jebat,” Ordo pushed out, comms switched to external broadcasting, and wished for the twelfth time that Bardan or anyone else were here. “I am honoured. For this gracious recommendation. However, I would think that another party would be more receptive to this kind of offer, and—“
“So,” Chief Jebat cut him off, making Ordo snap his mouth shut. The Chief pointed at him with the staff he held in hand, empty fruit shells and metal shards tinkling from the movement. “You are declining my son’s hand.”
Ordo could imagine the wince Niner wore under his helmet.
Ordo’s mind raced with responses that wouldn’t have him declared an enemy of the Bird Wing clan, not when they came here to trade information. Specifically, the group of clones they were looking for was last seen residing here, running from the growing Empire.
The last time Niner heard from Gregor, it was after he escaped the Imperial Training facility. When Niner tried again, there was barely any communication when Gregor hid himself and his friends away from the public, inevitably making them ghosts.
The plan with the Chief was to trade meat for some information. The five adult kybucks they brought with them were still on their ship, fresh and hanging in the freezer they modified for this specific occasion. They researched that it was the highest respect to give the togruta and their clans fresh meat hunted by their own hands, with high encouragement on it being kybucks. Ordo had to learn to use the traditional rifle while pushing down the unconventional feeling of its primitive nature; blasters sullied the animals with the impact, so he heard.
For introductory meetings between the outsiders and the togruta, one or two kybucks were enough. It was to pay respects to the Chief and his people, and Ordo figured the same concept applied if they added more kybucks and made it a big gift for them instead; they were about to be nosy and ask many questions after all, the least they could do was give something in return.
With how he doubled the count, the togs thought he was sending a dowry.
“The amount of your kybucks are lesser than what is required when marrying a child of mine,” the Chief continued, and Ordo swore he sounded amused despite his neutral expression. “The numbers you sacrificed are usually more fitting for my ministers and their children. The Chief in Waiting deserves ten kybucks at least, you see. Seeing as how it is cultural for us to share all that meat with the new partner’s family and friends.”
It was obvious they should have done more homework.
Then again, it was as if the old man knew that marrying their way in wasn’t the intention of their visit in the first place, but decided fucking with them would be more entertaining.
Ordo wasn’t finding this as funny as they made it seem.
Infuriatingly, Niner only kept quiet, content to let Ordo take the lead this time.
“I must admit, I am rather amiable to a partnership between our parties,” the Chief added, wrinkled hand waving in the space between them. “As you say. Mandalorians are respectable people, are they not? I would not believe their authenticity to be mere tall tales when I’ve heard positive things about them.”
This was a test. Ordo didn’t dare shift in place. “They are respectable."
The Chief nodded sagely. “I don’t see how this would not benefit both parties. You are correct. Marriage happens to be the easiest way to make a contract happen, and this connection would be harder to break under any threats that may try to destroy it. Wouldn’t it be embarrassing to go against the other half of your person?” The Chief tutted. “Such disgrace.”
This was definitely a threat.
“My Chief, you are, as the youngsters say these days, taking a piss,” the Chief in Waiting—Parameswara—gently teased his father. He nodded at Ordo and Niner, the broad steel band on his forehead glinting under the planes of morning sunlight that shot in from the windows. “They have yet to reveal what it is they want from us.”
The Chief’s smile turned sharp, his fangs peeking out of his thin lips. “Yes, that would always be the case with outsiders now, wouldn’t it? They will always ask something from us, and they expect us to give it to them promptly.”
This was starting to take a turn he didn’t like. Ordo would have to dig his feet in and rein everything back in place.
“Chief Jebat, I apologise for intruding on your home. But we’re here for a specific reason, and we would appreciate it if we could discuss the whereabouts of your last guests.”
There. Straight to the point.
Niner sighed loudly into his speaker, and Ordo swapped his comms to internal again to snap out, “What now?”
“Nothing. Continue.”
The Chief leaned one elbow against the armrest, his attention drilling on Ordo alone. “And why would you need to know such things?”
“We’re here to believe they’ve sought refuge in your home,” Ordo continued, swapping back to external. The Chief’s court stirred in surprise, baffled that he knew such information. “They’re five clones escaping from the Empire. Our clan believes we can help them, and we’re hoping they’ll still be here for us to talk to them.”
“And what makes you think they would want to talk to you, stranger?” Parameswara inquired mildly. Ordo and Niner came with information that shouldn’t be exposed to the outside world; their guests had the togruta’s oath to keep them safe and away from public knowledge while under their hospitality. This was a breach of privacy, and the togruta were not exactly thrilled that there was a leak in their ranks.
Ordo brought up his mental script for this one. They all knew togruta were the communal sort, and decided tapping on their similarities with Clan Skirata would make this meeting smoother.
“Kinship.”
Parameswara raised a perfectly white eyebrow at that. “Kinship?”
Ordo reached up and unlatched the seal of his helmet before pulling it off. The Chief’s court buzzed again while the Chief and his son stared at his face.
“I’m not the enemy,” Ordo assured them, holding up his free hand. “I only want to talk to them. We have businesses we haven’t settled.”
The Chief leaned back into his throne, considering Ordo again under this new light. “And if they refuse to come with you?”
Ord would be pissed off, for one. Here, though, while the togruta were watching him like hunters waiting to pounce, he merely straightened his shoulders. “Then, we’ll thank you for your time and take our leave.”
And hunt them down himself, if that was what it took.
“How generous,” Parameswara commented, resting his fist on his cheek, a half smile that looked suspiciously impish hanging on his lips. “You’ve wasted your time, then. They left three days ago.”
You mean like you wasted my time. Ordo tried not to grit his teeth. “I see.”
“Would you know where they went?” Niner finally spoke up, pulling their attention to him.
“Are you also a clone?” Parameswara asked.
Niner merely pulled off his helmet, to which Parameswara hummed.
“No, we wouldn’t know where their next destination would be,” he answered, and Ordo pushed down the need to grumble. “They were in a hurry and barely said much, but they were respectful and kind.” Parameswara’s smile turned genuine. “And courageous. We know how it is out there in the galaxy.”
Under the Empire’s reign, he meant. With strangers in his court, Ordo figured they wouldn’t dare say anything outright, but instead do the smart thing and hold things tight to their chests.
Even if they all knew what was really happening out there.
“Would one of them be Gregor?” Niner tried again.
“Yes, one of them.” Parameswara then chuckled. “He’s the most fun of the lot.”
The Chief said something in their language—a dialect of the Shili Islands—to his son, sounding chastising and snarking at the same time. Parameswara only laughed and answered in kind, where Ordo narrowed his eyes at the mischief writhing in the Chief in Waiting’s face.
Oh, Gregor’s fun fun, from the looks of it.
“Now,” Chief Jebat addressed the room, his voice rang clear. “It would seem the clones you’re looking for are not here. I am sure you had to endure a long journey, only to face such disappointment. And so, I would invite you to stay for the night to rest. My people would be able cook the best dishes there are to offer with the kybucks you have generously brought for us.”
Ordo would rather leave now and catch Gregor and his squad before they were further away from him. He tried to say as much to the Chief. “We wouldn’t want to intrude—“
“Nonsense,” The Chief stood up with the assistance of his staff, Parameswara following close as he held onto his father’s arm to steady him. “I insist.”
“It’s fine—“
“You would deny the Chief’s offer?” Parameswara clucked his tongue, shaking his head a little as he helped the Chief to walk away from their thrones. “It would be rather unwise. We’re even cooking for you.”
Ordo didn’t ask for that. He wanted to leave. “We wouldn’t want to trouble you.”
“Pah!” The Chief swatted the notion away as he and his son began their journey out of the door. “Come. One of my men will show you to your rooms.”
The Chief and his son wasn’t obviously taking ‘no’ for and answer. Ordo glanced at Niner, who merely offered him a small shrug before he slid on his helmet.
Well, one thing was for sure, they had to update Sarge to say they’d be a bit delayed.
Ordo sighed inaudibly. He was kicking Gregor’s shebs when this was all over.