The very afternoon the deal with Almec was finalized, Jango Fett and Slave I arrived in the skies above Sundari.
“State your identity and clearance code, or you will be fired upon.” The warning came from Sundari’s spaceport ground crew, and a pair of Vikings scrambled to flank Slave I on either side.
Jango Fett didn’t so much as flinch, transmitting his code without hesitation.
“Jango Fett.”
“Identity confirmed.
Welcome to Sundari, Mr.
Fett.
Please dock at Spaceport Eight.” The ground crew cleared him to land.
Once down, Jango took his second-in-command and a handful of traditionalist Mandalorians and left the spaceport to tour the New Mandalorian-held districts.
Kurt, mid-drill with his sword forms, and Satine, buried in administrative matters, wrapped up their day with a family dinner that evening.
A guard interrupted to report that Jango Fett and his party had already arrived in the city.
“Wait — wasn’t he supposed to arrive tomorrow?” Kurt paused mid-bite, bread in hand.
“He’s probably sizing up our strength firsthand.
Ever since my father died, most other factions haven’t exactly warmed to us — some have gone so far as to say I’m not a real Mandalorian at all.” Satine turned her fork over in her hand, visibly worn down just talking about it.
“Let’s just pretend we don’t know yet.
Eat first.” Kurt didn’t have the energy to overthink it — worrying constantly wore a person down fast, and the food was already on the table.
Little Bo-Katan had no idea what either of them was talking about, and kept eating with her head down.
Once night fell, Kurt vaulted up onto the rooftop overhang and sat, watching the moon.
Not long after, Obi-Wan landed lightly beside him.
“Evening.” Obi-Wan found his footing and looked down at Kurt.
“Evening, Obi-Wan.
Didn’t expect to see you up here — figured you’d spend every day frowning at me and reciting the Code.” Kurt stretched out, settling in more comfortably.
“I do that, sometimes.” Obi-Wan sat down too.
“Maybe it’s because it’s all I’ve ever known — everyone my age grew up the same way.
This is only my fourth field mission, and honestly, I never expected to find a world where an entire culture, an entire shared history, has been locked in over a decade of civil war.
Before this I’d only ever seen it on a holoprojector.
I don’t mean any of this with hostility toward you — I just find it hard to get used to…”
“Sure.
To me it’s just Tuesday.” Kurt cut in, then went for broke.
“Do you like my cousin?”
“—!
What are you talking about?
Jedi can’t fall in love with anyone.
She’s — she’s a wonderful person, but Jedi can’t afford attachments like that.
Though I’ll admit, I never expected to find someone like Satine among the Mandalorians — an actual idealist for peace.” Obi-Wan had entirely lost the thread of whatever he’d meant to say.
Just stuck with the Code telling you no.” Kurt said it flatly.
“I haven’t let myself think that far.
Maybe…
a little, though.” For a moment Obi-Wan sounded less like a Jedi and more like an ordinary sixteen-year-old talking to a friend his own age.
“What about you?
Anyone you like?”
“I’m eleven.” Kurt gave him a flat look — as if being tall for his age somehow changed the math.
“Sometimes I honestly forget that.
You’re calmer, more composed than I was on my first mission — by a wide margin.”
“I’ve basically lived on my own since I was eight.
Used to visit my cousin sometimes, but once she left for Coruscant, it was just me.
Then I picked up my first kid, and after that there was no going back.
What about your first mission — how’d that go?”
“You already carry yourself like a Jedi, somehow, and I’m still learning to become a real one.” Obi-Wan smiled faintly.
“It was an accident, really — Master Qui-Gon overslept, and I ended up running the mission alone.
Turned out fine in the end, more or less.
Do you have any dreams?
Things you want, beyond all this?”
“Forget the rulebook, then.
Rigid doctrine never made anyone a great Jedi.” Kurt looked out at the endless sky above them.
“As for me — I want to get off Mandalore eventually.
See the galaxy.
Help people who need it, wherever I find them.”
“Mm.
I do enjoy flying, actually.
If I hadn’t ended up a Jedi, I think that’s probably what I’d have chosen anyway.” Obi-Wan turned the thought over, imagining another life for himself.
“Obi-Wan, just be who you actually are.
Qui-Gon does exactly that — haven’t you noticed how loose he plays it compared to the rest of your Order?”
“I just want Master to think I…”
“If it’s only ever about what he thinks, you’ll be stuck as a Padawan forever.”
“Fine.
But you’re still just a kid.”
“My cousin likes you.
The Force told me.” Kurt dropped it again, casual as anything, and Obi-Wan — utterly thrown by the sudden pivot — lost his footing entirely and toppled straight off the roof.
“Whoa!” A loud thud announced Obi-Wan’s descent from the second floor.
“You good?” Kurt called down.
“If ‘sore all over but nothing broken’ counts as good, then sure.” Obi-Wan managed, dryly.
That was when Satine’s head poked out below.
“Obi-Wan, what are you doing down there?”
“Checking the grounds for bounty hunter activity — would you believe that?” Obi-Wan started pretending to search the area, dusting himself off with as much dignity as he could manage.
“Hah!
Did you just fall off the roof?” Satine caught sight of his disheveled state and couldn’t hold back her laughter, hand over her mouth.
Kurt, you absolute menace.
Obi-Wan, thoroughly mortified, pulled his hood up and hurried off, unable to face either of them properly.
Satine, for her part, thought the whole thing was rather endearing.
Kurt lay flat on the roof above, watching Obi-Wan’s hasty retreat — and catching him glancing back more than once as he went.
When are these two finally getting married, Kurt mused to himself.
If they had a kid, what would they even name it?
Anakin, maybe?
The night passed quickly enough.
The next morning, Jango Fett formally arrived to meet with Kurt and the others.
“So, Obi-Wan — find any bounty hunters last night?” Kurt elbowed him the moment he saw him, and Satine, overhearing, had to fight down a laugh of her own.
Qui-Gon and Almec, standing nearby, just looked baffled — the three of them had clearly been up to something the night before, and none of them could figure out what.
“Master Fett.” Satine stepped forward as the leader of New Mandalore, making introductions for the first meeting between herself and the traditionalist faction’s leader.
“This is Almec, First Minister of the New Mandalorian government.
These two are the Jedi Masters from Coruscant, and this one is—”
“No introduction needed for this one, Your Grace.
I know him.
Kurt Vizsla — currently one of New Mandalore’s top military commanders, and by results, easily the best of them.
Walked straight into command and personally led the strike that took out an entire Death Watch armory.
Quite the hero for someone so young.” Jango’s approval was plain.
“Though I’ll say — Sundari’s got no shortage of bounty hunters right now, all hoping to collect on either your head, Duchess, or his.”
“An honor, Mr.
Fett.” Kurt cut past the compliment.
“Let’s get to the terms of the alliance — unless you’d rather keep standing around out here all day.”