Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Offworlders rarely came to Jakku. When they did, it was usually the same people- the same bunch of traders who would bring food and water to exchange for useful scrap. But every now and then, a new ship would show up to trade.

Such as now.

Rey watched the unfamiliar ship descended into town and took a moment to thank her lucky stars that she was in town to see it show up. She wouldn’t have to trade for a description of what would happen, and she might even make a little by telling the story.

The ship was a style Rey had not seen before, sleek and baring aerodynamic wings that twisted as it landed. It was painted almost entirely white with only a few bits of gray paint to break up the white. Rey frowned, trying to think if she had ever seen a white ship. Even the imperial ships tended to be gray. Black and other dark colors were preferred by most spacers, since those helped ships blend in with the darkness of space. Rey had heard that only a ship that was well-protected with an overconfident owner would be painted white.

Or perhaps a reasonably confident owner, Rey reconsidered as she watched the ramp open and two armored beings stride out. Their armor matched the ship’s colors, mostly white with gray accents, which suggested that the ship was always staffed with deadly-looking warrior in strange armor. The style of the armor was somewhat similar to the stormtrooper armor Rey sometimes found, but somehow it looked more dangerous and sleek.

The ramp of the ship closed behind the two warriors and they set off, one clearly leading the other. The leader seemed somehow familiar, though Rey had never seen anyone wearing armor like that, and the weight of the armor would change any body language or particular gait she could possibly recognize. They were moving in Rey’s direction. She thought they must be heading for Unkar Plutt’s shop, which she had just left. Unkar Plutt clearly believed so, since he left the shop to greet them. These days, little convinced him to leave the shop, but strangers certainly would. Sometimes it took weeks to sell even good scrap, and a few more customers would make those dangerous time less likely. Unkar Plutt didn’t care if a few scrappers died, but if he entirely ran out of rations, many scrappers would die and possibly hurt his buisness.

“Welcome offworlders!” he exclaimed. “Jakku is home to some of the best scrap in the galaxy. You won’t be disappointed in the options. What are you looking for?”

“We are not here to trade,” the lead warrior said as he walked past the suddenly confused shop owner.

Rey almost thought she could feel the fear that washed over all the listening scrappers and traders. It was the fear of the unknown compounded by a fear of the clearly dangerous warriors. If not to trade, why were they here? Were they going to kill people? Or were they going to enslave people? Perhaps they would take everything the residents had, and abandon the area, leaving everyone to die in the dry wasteland. Or were they going to set up shop and conquer the area, ruling with an iron fist, making things even worse for the workers than Unkar Plutt already did? They had radiated threat the moment they left the ship, moving so easily under the hot sun, on the ever shifting sand, in armor that must be quite heavy. But traders wouldn’t kill anyone, because that would mean less scrap for them to trade for and pick between. Without the certainty that they must behave as other offworlders did, there was no telling what they would do.

But something, her gut instinct, perhaps, told her those fears were unfounded. These people, these warriors, were not here to do violence. They were no threat. Despite the aura of danger around their armor, Rey was certain they would not start any fights, even a small one. Perhaps they would even try to verbally defuse a fight if they saw one coming, rather than letting their blasters speak for them.

The warriors walked up to Rey, as she had somehow known they would, and the leader took off his helmet. He was on the older side, with gray hairs peppering his red-gold hair. Rey could see nothing of herself in his face, but her gut said that they were related some how.

“Do you still go by Rey?” he asked.

“Yes,” Rey confirmed. “Are you my father?”

“No,” the man denied. “I only met your mother a few weeks ago. Which is somewhat embarrassing, considering she is my half-sister. I blame the fall of the Republic for that.”

“How did the fall of the Republic prevent you from meeting her?” Rey asked. “It didn’t change that much, did it?” For some planets, it had changed a lot, but she more often heard any trouble with movement or broken families ascribed to the Empire, not the fall of the Republic. That was a very specific event, she thought. It was, after all, the Empire’s fault that so many things went wrong, that entire species were enslaved, and that planets were blown up.

Her uncle blinked at her.

“It was the Fall of the Republic that caused the death of most of my father’s aliit – your grandfather’s family. And the Republic supported my mother’s family’s rule over our sacred homeworld, whereas the Empire rather disliked us” her uncle said. “But we should talk about family history later. First, we should gather your belongings and leave this planet. It reminds me of my homeworld when I was growing up, but it doesn’t have the excuse of being glassed.”

“Most people don’t casually mention ruling planets,” the other warrior said, punching Rey’s uncle lightly in the shoulder. Her uncle rolled his eyes. “Don’t scare her. Rey, verd’ika, you won’t have to lead warriors or rule anything if you don’t want to. Our homeworld got glassed yet again, so it isn’t very habitable anyways.”

“My home is in the wastes,” Rey said, choosing to ignore any thought that she might be speaking with a member of royalty of a planet that had been glassed multiple times. “It’ll take a bit to go fetch my stuff.”

“Should we get our speeders or do you want to go alone?” her uncle asked. Rey noticed that he was giving options, rather than giving orders. It was a little annoying, since Rey was having a hard time figuring out what he wanted. The only real desire he had shown was to take her away from Jakku. And if that course of action would mean possibly meeting her mother and definitely living with her family, then she

“I’ll go,” Rey answered. “I can meet you at your ship.”

“Sounds good, niece,” her uncle said.

Rey smiled at him and hurried off to gather her belongings.

Before she could reach her speeder, though, she was stopped by the Grandmother of the town.

“Are you certain he is telling the truth?” she asked. “Sometimes slavers pose as family to trick Freefolk into chains.”

“I know it’s true,” Rey insisted.

“Rey, what are the chances that you have family who are royalty?” the Grandmother asked softly. “They are likely lying. Be careful.”

“If they are not telling the truth, then how did they know my name?” Rey asked. “How could they recognize me? And why would they show up in strange armor? They look like they could attack the town and take a dozen slaves if they wanted to, so wouldn’t they do that instead, Grandmother?”

“Perhaps you are right, and they are telling the truth. They do not act like any slavers I have met,” the Grandmother allowed. “But there are a thousand ways to be a slave. Be cautious. If something seems off, trust your gut.”

“I will,” Rey promised. “And I will remember you stories.”

“Go well,” the Grandmother ordered.

“Stay well,” Rey answered.

Chapter Text

It didn’t take Rey long to gather up her belongings. She hesitated over bringing her old Rebel helmet and the few toys she had made and collected when she was younger. But she had outgrown such childishness – or she should have – and it wouldn’t be wise to give her relatives a bad impression. Everything else she wanted to keep was strapped to her speederbike.

When she reached the ship again, she saw that her uncle and the other warrior had waited outside the ship for her. It was only as she got near that the ramp lowered. Rey dismounted and walked her speeder up to the ramp.

“Do you have anyone you want to say goodbye to?” her Uncle asked. “Or someone you want to bring along? We have plenty of room.”

“No,” Rey said. “I’ve said the only farewell I care to. And I never did find someone I could trust enough to grow very close to. The Grandmother is trustworthy, but she’s an elder of the community, not a friend.”

“I think you will have an easier time with finding trustworthy friends on Nu’manda’yaim,” the other warrior said kindly. “Our people take loyalty very seriously.”

“New Manda Yaim?” Rey tried.

“Nu, not new,” her uncle corrected. “And it’s all one word. But you got close enough. The name is actually a joke of a joke.”

“Ah,” the other warrior interrupted. “Kor, we should let your niece get settled before you get into the historic reasons for the name.”

“Right, of course,” her uncle – possibly named Kor – agreed.

He started up the ramp with a gesture for her to follow him. Rey didn’t hesitate to do so. The other warrior followed behind Rey, focus on the desert around the ship and hand on a holstered blaster.

“Ke’slanar,” her uncle called out as the ship’s ramp closed.

Almost immediately, Rey felt a slight jolt of motion as the inertia dampeners kicked in and the ship lifted off.

“What does that mean?” Rey asked.

“Ke means it’s an order and slanar is to go,” her uncle explained. “Mando’a is an efficient language, generally. So, ke’slanar is like saying, ‘Lagos, we’re ready to for take off’.”

Rey’s uncle, it seemed, enjoyed giving detailed explanations of everything. He gave an overly detailed explanation of the lock on Rey’s cabin door (it would check for a chip on a necklace her uncle gave her), as well as a detailed explanation of the room where Rey’s speeder bike was stored (it was a smallish cargo-hold, and it was small because the ship was not for carrying cargo), why she had a cabin with four bunkbeds to herself (the ship was originally a troop-transport, meant to carry 24 passengers and 4 crew members, and Rey was the only current passenger), the name of the ship and the ship-type (it was the Naakla, or the Peaceful, and it was a Kom’rk, or Gauntlet class ship), how they got the ship (permanently and without permission borrowed it indefinitely from Aunt Bo), why this was the only Kom’rk class ship Rey should trust (the rest belonged to the many splinter factions of the terrorist group called Kyr’tsad or Death Watch, which Aunt Bo had been second in command of), and why his Aunt Bo shouldn’t be trusted, (besides being a leader of a terrorist group, she helped depose her sister, leading to her sister’s death). It was a lot, but fascinating. Rey hadn’t ever had someone so willing to fill up the silence with new and interesting information. (Mostly interesting, anyways.) The closest she could think of was the Grandmother, but even she spoke as little as possible in a futile attempt to conserve water. And the Grandmother was a storyteller – it was her job to speak, to pass on knowledge, to guide those younger than her. Rey wondered if it was her uncle’s job to speak so much.

There was a jolt that made Rey sway, even through the inertia dampeners. For a second, she was afraid they were being fired upon, but her uncle showed no concern.

“That was the jump to hyperspace,” he explained. “Come. We will be gathering in the ship’s karyai. It is time for introductions.”

Rey signaled her agreement with a nod, and followed her uncle as he confidently walked through the passages that Rey suspected had been intentionally built to be confusing.

In the short time before they appeared in the karyai, which was a cozy bowl shaped area in the center of the ship, two of the warriors had already shown up. Soon after, a third joined them. All of them had taken their helmets off, and the helmets were set on the table or clipped so they dangled from a hip. They smiled at Rey, and she knew they were being sincere.

“This, as you may have guessed, is Rey Kenobi, now of Clan and House Evaar’la Kryze,” her uncle introduced her. The other warriors thumped their fists against their chest armor. “On the right is Lagos, she/her our pilot,” he introduced the last one to enter. “In the middle, Amis, he/him. And on the left is Soniee, she/her. They are all sword to House Kryze and Soniee joined Clan Evaar’la Kryze after her old Clan made some unfortunate decisions.”

Soniee, Rey somehow knew without trying to remember her armor, was the one to go out of the ship with her uncle. She was a sharp-eyed woman with brown hair, streaked with gray. Amis was tall, with a softness in his eyes that whispered to Rey that he was tired of death, yet would protect his family, including Rey, until his dying breath. His head was shaved, or perhaps he was bald. Rey could not tell. The pilot, Lagos, wore a little less armor than the others, but her eyes had a harshness in them that wasn’t nearly as pronounced in the rest of them. A part of her had reveled in the face of battle, and she had long ago accepted that part. Yet there was more than an echo of the same softness that Rey saw in Amis’s eyes, and Rey knew that Lagos would only fight when it was necessary to do so, prioritizing her family and her people over her bloodlust. Because it was loyalty, above all else, that she – and the others – venerated. Loyalty and love. The three were around the same age as her uncle and Rey wondered how long they had known each other and how long they had been loyal to each other. Were they friends as kids? Were they this loyal when they first met? After a year?

“And I am Korkie Kryze, he/him,” her uncle introduced himself, drawing Rey out of her thoughts, “leader of Clan and House Evaar’la Kryze, and leader of Nu’manda’yaim. You can call me Uncle Korkie, if that’s comfortable to you.”

Rey nodded, but internally she was screaming. She was talking to a planetary leader! Sure, it was of a planet she hadn’t ever heard of, but she didn’t exactly know about that many planets.

And her uncle was so normal. She thought that planetary leaders were supposed to be aloof and untouchable. Perhaps it was different for family. Perhaps it was different on Nu’manda’yaim. Perhaps Nu’manda’yaim was not very populated, so Uncle Korkie was closer to a town leader than a planetary leader. But speaking of the planet, there was the question of the planet’s name joke.

“Uncle Korkie, what’s the joke about the name Nu’manda’yaim?” Rey asked, careful to keep the same pronunciation as Uncle Korkie. She must have done well, since Lagos and Amis seemed impressed. Soniee, it seemed, had checked out and was typing furiously on a device, doing something she deemed very important. Uncle Korkie, meanwhile, was beaming at her and launching into his story.

“First, you must understand that the Mando’ade have always been warriors. For as long as we remember, the sight of Mandalorian warships has struck fear into the hearts of outsiders. And the Mando’ade have a long memory: we have stories that tell of a Coruscant covered in mountains, grassland, and forest, dotted with small towns.” Uncle Korkie said, his voice falling into a storyteller’s cadence.

Rey remembered a story she had overheard, once, of when the Old Republic was young. Back then, Coruscant was already a city world. And that was a thousand years ago. How long ago would it be that a city world had mostly small towns?

“Not once in that time was there a pacifist movement, let alone one that took power,” Uncle Korkie said, and Rey knew his next words before he said them, “not until us.”

“Many Mando’ade were angry, because it didn’t seem uh… Mandalorian?” Rey guessed.

“That’s right!” Uncle Korkie exclaimed. “You hit the center of the target on your first bolt! The New Mandalorians, or the Evaar’la Mando’ade, were met with hostility and confusion from our fellow Mandalorians. We first formed about a century after the Dral’han, when the Old Republic glassed our homeworld and a few others to prevent us from becoming a threat again. Many saw the Evaar’lade as cowards, bowing to the Republic and becoming pacifist to please them. That is not entirely false, but I would say it was more calculated than cowardly.”

Their Clan and House was called Evaar’la Kryze. New Kryze, Rey guessed. Probably because Aunt Bo the terrorist was leading the original Clan Kryze.

“It has been well over a thousand years since Mandalore was capable of matching the might of the Republics,” Uncle Korkie continued, and Rey nearly choked on good air at the thought of matching the might of the Old or New Republics. “After the Dral’han, which happen around four centuries ago, we were incredibly weak. The Hutt saw us as so weak that they tried to raid some of our outlying planets! If the Republic saw that we might be a threat to them, they wouldn’t have hesitated to do it again. And we could not afford a second Dral’han. So we became obsessive about pacifism. Some religious practices were banned, because they were too war-like, and we started to engage with the Republic economically. My mother was considered a good leader, because she wholeheartedly believed in pacifism, so she could extol the virtues of pacifism to the Jedi, who could tell truth from lie, and make them believe it.”

Rey knew about the Hutts. She was pretty sure that they raided lots of planets, even pretty powerful ones. The Republic was very powerful, and Rey had heard that the Hutts regularly raided their outer rim planets. Then again, it sounded like Mandalorian space was smaller than the Republic and most of their people were trained in warfare. It would be difficult for the Hutts to raid a planet where everyone was wearing armor and carrying weapons. And the outer planets would probably have been less effected by the Dral’han, which would explain why Uncle Korkie specified that they tried.

There was also an interesting translation: evaar’la meant new. Their Clan and House was called Evaar’la Kryze, which meant that it was New Kryze, Rey guessed. Probably because Aunt Bo the terrorist was using the name Kryze for her Clan and House. It could also be a reference to the fact that their Clan and House was comprised of Evaar’la Mando’ade, which would mean that Evaar’la Kryze meant the New Mandalorian Clan/House Kryze.

“I’m sure people have done far worse to prevent their planet from being glassed,” Rey offered.

“Probably,” Uncle Korkie agreed. “But to the traditionalists, we were attacking the Manda itself, trying to destroy all real Mandalorians, dead or alive, to finish what the Republic started. So they called us many names. Dar’manda was a favorite, as it means one who has betrayed our people and ceased to be one of us. But when speaking of our group, they tended to call us the Nu’mando’ade. It was an insulting joke, because Nu’mando’ade sounds a little like New Mando’ade, but means Not Mandalorians. Stagnation is death, our oldest stories say, but they refused to change, looking to the past for answers to deal with new problems.”

For all that the traditionalists liked calling the Evaar’la Mando’ade not Mandalorian because of their pacifism, the four New Mandalorians Rey had met were clearly warriors. They wore armor and they moved like they could kill someone with a blunt spoon. If they did not count as warrior enough, Rey did not want to meet what did.

“Now we must skip forward to just before the Fall of the Republic,” Uncle Korkie said. “Specifically the Jedi Purge, when the Republic genocided the Jedi. My mother was dead, my father was dead or dealing with the genocide of his people, and Aunt Bo had just taken control of Mandalore from a Sith Lord named Darth Maul, which put her half of Death Watch in control, rather than the other half of Death Watch. I could read the writing on the wall, and I knew that drastic measures had to be taken. As in, evacuation of as many people as I could from Mandalorian space.”

“Why wasn’t the Rise of the Empire the big concern?” Rey asked. “It sounds like your father – who I’m guessing was my grandfather – was a Jedi, so it was personal, but why did the Jedi Purge convince you to evacuate Mandalorian space?”

“You guessed right. And it was personal, but the Republic falling and becoming the Empire was little more than a name change to reflect the changes that were already happening, as far as I’m concerned. The real change was when the Republic genocided their staunchest protectors,” Uncle Korkie answered. “At the most basic level, you cannot peacefully stand up to someone who does genocide. Violence of that level must can only be met with preventative violence. More specifically, killing the Jedi, their loyal defenders, was madness, unless there were plans to do things the Jedi would not have tolerated. And the Jedi stood by during the Dral’han, so they were would have had to have been planning atrocities worse than the Dral’han, or atrocities against more helpless, less dangerous groups. Before the Republic even fell, a situation like Alderaan was inevitable.”

“So you fled?” Rey asked.

“There was little else I could do,” Korkie said heavily. “Any pretense of harmlessness had been blown away, making pacifying Mandalore more of a priority for the Empire. Aunt Bo did not head my warnings. I suggested to Aunt Bo that she start investing in bunkers for everyone, bunkers deep enough to survive the second Dral’han. She didn’t believe it was a risk, I guess, or she didn’t try to lead anyone after she lost power to because of the Empire’s meddling. And none of the other Death Watch aligned Clans wanted to hear from a Nu’mando’ad. I think I convinced some of the old Haat’mando’ade Clans to build bunkers – those are the Clans who supported a group that called themselves the True Mandalorians, before they got wiped out – but I lost contact with them, so I am not certain they were convinced. I know some had been leaving, ever since the Haat’mando’ade got wiped out, since they felt Mandalorian space had no room for them to rebuild. I hope they did that.”

“More of that gatekeeping Mandalorianness,” Rey noted.

“The Haat’mando’ade were better than Death Watch, but that doesn’t say much,” Korkie agreed. “They weren’t terrorists, at least. But as the leader of the Evaar’lade, I had my people to think about, so I didn’t spend much time trying to convince those who wouldn’t have listened anyways. I feared that we did not have much time before the second Dral’han, after the Republic proved their willingness to genocide even their protectors. In the depths of the Great Archive, there were coordinates of a planet that had been found a few thousand years ago, and a description: fertile, but boring and not strategically placed. I sent a few scouts as we started to prepare for a full evacuation of the Evaar’lade of Manda’yaim, since that was planet most likely to be bombed. They found a beautiful planet, full of grasslands and forest, with few large animals and even fewer large predators. We gathered everything we needed, the Great Archives, the secret stores of Beskar, the secrets of the Forge and of the Mines. I left with the first wave of New Mandalorians and when we landed, I realized that the planet, our new homeworld, needed a name. And I missed Manda’yaim, my home, so much that all I could think was that the world was not Manda’yaim. And then, Amis, trying to cheer me up, said that nobody here would call us Nu’mando’ade. I thought about it and realized that if we named the world Not-Mandalore, if or when we have to interact with Death Watch or other traditionalists and they try to insult us by calling us not Mandalorian, we can laugh in their faces and say, ‘why yes, we are citizens of Not-Mandalore. Where are you from?’ And so the name of our world was born, turning an insulting joke into an actually funny joke.”

“If your Aunt Bo the terrorist was ruling Manda’yaim, why did she let you leave?” Rey asked. “Wouldn’t she want her family on her world? Wouldn’t she want to have the people of her world stay, if only to work for her?”

“Are you going to always call her my ‘Aunt Bo the terrorist’?” Uncle Korkie asked, grinning.

“I’m planning on it,” Rey answered.

“She’s hate that,” Uncle Korkie laughed. “I think I’ll start adding ‘the terrorist’ to her name. But to answer your question, she didn’t really care. She wanted Manda’yaim to be populated by Mandalorians…”

“And she didn’t see you as Mandalorian,” Rey finished. “So she just let people leave?”

“New Mandalorians, yes,” Uncle Korkie clarified. “We brought a handful of traditionalist Mandalorians with us, but those were mostly because a married couple with one New Mandalorian partner decided to go together. And I think it was for the best. As we settled in, without extremists like Death Watch bombing hospitals and kidnapping children, making violence something abhorrent and without the pressures of trying to prevent another Dral’han, we had the room to return to our roots, to wear armor and hunt prey in the forests or the grasslands. We ended up, as you can see by our armor, as a group that Death Watch might see as terrible Mandalorians, with a population that could easily repel Death Watch at its height if they attacked. And we have a spy network which is currently mostly engaged in hunting down imperial remnants. We probably couldn’t have done all that if we had traditionalists sneering at us.”

Something about the spy network was important. Rey just wasn’t sure how, exactly.

“If you want, we can go to the cockpit and you can see where Cuyam, Nu’manda’yaim’s star, is,” Lagos offered. “I can guarantee it will be the first map you’ve ever seen that has Cuyam marked.”

That was also important, for the same reason the spy network was important. There was a third piece, Rey was sure, which would make them all click together. And she thought she might already have it.

Chapter Text

Rey was sitting in the copilot’s seat with Lagos beside her, when they came out of hyperspace. Ahead of them hung a green and violet gem. Rey had never seen so much green before, but she knew enough to guess that all the green was plants. There was so much life. Rey had known, intellectually, that the planet had grasslands and forests, but she hadn’t realized it would be so obvious from space.

But there was the second half of the world: the violet areas. Rey squinted at the world as they approached, but that didn’t help her confusion.

“Lagos?” Rey said.

“Yes?” Lagos said.

“What’s the violet areas? I’m guessing the green is plants, but I don’t know what purple means,” Rey admitted.

“Ocean,” Lagos answered, glancing at Rey to see her reaction. “Water tends to reflect the sky. Most worlds have blue skies and therefore blue oceans and lakes. But since Nu’manda’yaim’s sky is purple, our oceans are purple. Vhedin’uvet, another planet in this system, has a green atmosphere, so large swaths of it look green, despite not supporting any life.”

“Can I go see the ocean when we get there?” Rey asked quietly, trying to wrap her mind around the idea of her, a lonely scrapper, living on a planet with oceans of water.

“Kranak, the city we’re heading to, was built on a mountainous island,” Lagos said with a grin. “You’re going to see the ocean so much, it will become familiar and normal to you. Just remember not to drink ocean water – it’s too salty, so it’ll taste awful and dehydrate you.”

Rey agreed, but felt uneasy about it. Water was life. How could water be dangerous? Then again, air was also important to life, and Rey had experience with bad air of many kinds, air that made her feel sick, air that actually made her sick, depleted air, and explosive air, to name the broad categories. If air could be dangerous, it made sense that water could be too, despite how wrong it felt.

“Also,” Lagos added as the planet filled the entirety of the cockpit’s view, “don’t go too far into the ocean until you know how to swim well. Up to your knees, at most. There are areas that can suck you out to sea.”

“I’ll be careful,” Rey promised.

A soft beep and a crackle announced an opening connection.

“Olarom norac, Naak’la,” a voice said. Rey recognized the name of the ship, Naak’la, but nothing else. Even after crossing the entire galaxy, from one end to the other, there were still many, many words Rey didn’t know. She was barely able to hold a short and very simple conversation on a handful of topics.

“Elek, ‘lek,” Lagos answered the voice. “Me’vaas ti gar?”

Yes, yes, what’s up? Rey translated

“Naas,” the other voice said. Nothing meant everything was going fine.

“Vor’e,” Lagos said, and the connection ended. “That was just air control,” Lagos switched to Basic. “Our ship is well known, since it is the only Kom’rk in the system, as well as Korkie’s preferred mode of transport.”

In other words, Rey thought, they were being allowed past security so easily because the planet’s leader was known to use the ship they were on. It was only a bit of preferential treatment, probably, but it was so much more than she had ever had that it felt strange.

There was the slightest shudder as they entered the atmosphere. Rey had heard the traders complaining about the way ships shuddered so much on entry. They wanted better inertia dampeners, but those were rare and apparently not much better than common inertia dampeners. Once again, it seemed that the Evaar’lade had better inertia dampeners.

Then she spotted Kranak, and all thoughts of technology fled her mind. It was massive. The island itself looked to be around two star destroyers in size, and the city seemed to cover around two thirds of the mountain island, at least on the face they were approaching. The whole city stood some ways from the water, leaving a long and gentle slope mostly free of buildings. The few buildings there were towers, thick but tall, that rose above the cliff were the main city began. From there, the city sprawled up the mountain with tree-lined boulevards. The top of the mountain was crowned in unbroken green.

And on the other side of the towers, past the long, gentle slope, there was water.

Rey could see it moving as if alive. It didn’t slow or stop, and Rey wondered if it ever did. Rey hadn’t understood the warning about the ocean sucking people away until she saw it. It was vast and strange and looked alive. Who knew what secrets it held? She thought she could see people near the water’s edge. They probably knew.

As they neared the city, the purple ocean vanished beneath the Naak’la’s hull. Lagos brought them low, a little ways below the cliff, heading for a large crack in the cliff face. The Naak’la’s wings spun around its body, making its silhouette vertical without needing to spin the cockpit and living area. Th crack – which Rey suspected wasn’t a crack at all, but a carved tunnel – continued for several long, somewhat nerve racking seconds, before opening into a huge, hexagonal hanger roughly three times larger than any Rey had seen in a star destroyer. They had come out into the top half, and the hanger stretched down to the water level and ended in undulating black water. Around the hanger, on metal balconies, there were countless ships parked. Some were clearly cargo transports of some sort that would never fit through the crack the Naak’la had entered through. There were a variety of those, mostly on the top levels. They tended to be spherical, of many different sizes. Below those were three full levels of crafts that looked vaguely similar to a Kom’rk, but more conical or cylindrical. There were two sizes of those. Below them, there were a few more levels of extremely streamlined ships in a wide variety of shapes and sizes. After that, there was just a smooth, straight drop to the water.

Lagos brought them to an empty spot and landed, the wings twisting into their landing position.

“Thanks for letting me watch,” Rey said. “That was really cool.”

“It is, isn’t it,” Lagos agreed with a note of surprise. “Sometimes, even the most amazing things become routine until someone reminds you of the beauty. Now, come. It’s time for you to go see your new home.”

Uncle Korkie’s home was in the center of the city. Rey was pretty sure it wasn’t a palace, but it was huge to her. It was called Kryze’yaim, or the home of the Kryzes. Though it was bigger than any building on Jakku that wasn’t a crashed ship, it still wasn’t too big. All the space was clearly used by members of Clan Evaar’la Kryze. It was, it seemed, a large family. For a second, Rey feared that she wasn’t needed, that the Grandmother was right in some way and that it was a trap. But Uncle Korkie had gone through too much trouble for a lowly prize like Rey’s servitude. Her instinct seemed to be correct, at least so far. Clan Evaar’la Kryze, their family, was large, and they were Rey’s family just as much as Uncle Korkie’s, now. The other Clan members welcomed her warmly and sincerely. They found clothes that fit Rey, several outfits worth, to start her wardrobe. All the clothes were well-made, and would last for decades if Rey was careful. Several Clan members even offered Rey unnecessary things, like wallhangings to decorate her new bedroom and a necklace with a pendant of Clan Evaar'la Kryze's sigil.

And then Rey took a shower in the fresher attached to her new bedroom. A water shower. With water. It was the height of luxury on Jakku, but here it was apparently common. Still, the water flowing down the drain was a little uncomfortable for Rey to watch, so she hurried and tried to waste as little water as possible. It still felt luxurious.

After Rey got out of her fresher, dressed in some of the softest clothes she had ever felt, Uncle Korkie knocked on the door to Rey’s room. Rey went and opened it.

“Looks like you showered. How did you like the water?” Uncle Korkie asked.

“It felt luxurious but also a little wasteful,” Rey admitted. “I know there’s a lot more water around, but…”

“I understand,” Uncle Korkie said. “It’s not the same, but Sundari, the New Mandalorian capitol on Manda’yaim, was in the desert. Growing up we had more than enough water, thanks to the infrastructure my mother had built. But after she died, Death Watch wasn’t careful with the water, and after a fight near one of the largest water tanks, a leak lost a good chunk of our water stores, which never recovered. Everyone but Death Watch had to be very careful with their water rations. After I came hear, it took me a few days to get used to using so much water again, and I regularly took water showers before my mother died. If you’d prefer it, there’s the option of a sonic, since sometimes people prefer the speed. And it might help to know that most of the water is recycled.”

“I think I might use the sonic instead for a bit,” Rey decided, relieved that her Uncle understood. “At least until I get used to there being so much water around.”

“That sounds like a good plan,” Uncle Korkie said. “Now, I came to ask you if you’re up to going out of Kryze’yaim. I have two important places to show you: the Forge and the Vaults.”

“I think I’m up to it,” Rey said. “Which will we go to first?”

“Unless you object, the Forge,” Uncle Korkie answered.

The Forge was far grander than necessary to Rey’s eyes, but by now she knew how sacred armor was to the Mando’ade. The smiths were called Gorane, armorers, for a reason. And so it made some sense that they would put more effort than necessary into the place where their sacred armor was made.

Uncle Korkie lead her to one of the Gorane. The Goran was just finishing a paldron, and they waited respectfully for the Goran to finish, Rey following her Uncle’s lead. The Goran was dressed in armor, and their helmet covered their face, but Rey could sense that they were completely focused on their work.

“Nu’Mand’alor,” the Goran said as they finished the piece. “And…”

“Goran, this is my niece, Rey Kenobi,” Uncle Korkie introduced. “Rey, this is Goran Ordo, they/them, the one who made my armor.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Rey said.

“And you, Rey Kenobi,” the Goran returned. “Outside the Cuyam system and especially when you meet Kyr’tsad, you would be wise to call yourself Rey Kryze. Obi-wan Kenobi was a warrior with many enemies. Most are dead, but some, like Kyr’tsad, still survive in one form or another and remember your grandfather’s name with fear and hatred.”

“I will,” Rey promised. “But, ‘when’? Don’t you mean ‘if’?”

“You have the spirit of a warrior and the power of your grandfather,” Goran Ordo explained. “It is very likely that you will meet the remains of Kyr’tsad, and far more likely than not that it will be by your own choice. Now, Nu’Mand’alor, what is the purpose of your visit?”

“This child of my Clan needs armor,” Uncle Korkie said to Rey’s delighted shock. “Vambraces, greaves, and a helmet, to start.”

“All armor is earned,” the Goran countered almost ritualistically. “How has this child of your Clan earned this armor?”

“For over seven years she has survived alone in a hostile environment, over half of which was before she could come of age,” Uncle Korkie answered.

“A feat many adult, fully trained warriors would find difficult,” the Goran said, which made Rey blush. “Rey Kenobi of Clan Evaar’la Kryze, come forward so we may begin forging your beskar’gam.”

Rey quickly figured out that Goran Ordo said ‘we’, they meant it. Uncle Korkie excused them after two hours of trying on durasteel example plates, trying to copy the stretches and kicks the Goran showed her. Rey ended up taking durasteel gauntlets out of the forge at the Goran’s order, to figure out if she liked the style.

And then, they went to the Vaults.

The Vaults were underground. There was once entrance at the Forge, one at Kryze’yaim, and one that was connected to the deep hanger. Most of the Vaults that Rey saw was a long, hallway carved into light gray stone with small lights running along each of the corners of the hallway, two strips on the ground and two on the ceiling. Often, they would pass large, metal doors that Rey suspected would be near impossible to get through.

“The Vaults are where we store dangerous or fragile things, or trophies from our bloody history,” Uncle Korkie explained. “Here is the Lightsaber Vault.”

They stopped by a door that looked like the rest of the doors, but Uncle Korkie unlocked and opened it. They walked in and Rey stumbled in surprise. The lightsabers were singing sadly or screaming in pain, despite the silence of the vault.

“You sense the sorrow and the pain,” Uncle Korkie noted. “Many of these lightsabers were taken as trophies when Mandalorians fought the Jedi, and they mourn their rightful wielders. Others were taken from dar’jetiise, Dark Jedi and Sith, and their wielders made the Kyber crystals at their heart bleed. Those do not mourn their wielders, but they have not healed from the damage their wielders did to them.”

“So all the lightsabers are going to suffer here forever?” Rey asked. “That’s sad.”

“It is,” Uncle Korkie agreed. “But nothing is forever and I have hopes that perhaps, one day, these lightsabers will be remade anew.”

Uncle Korkie walked over to one of the screaming lightsabers. Unlike most of the others, it wasn’t a simple cylinder in shape. There was a semi-circle of seemingly useless metal that arced from one end of the cylinder to the other. Rey watched curiously as her Uncle brought it back to her.

“This type of lightsaber, with this semi-circle, is unique to the Inquisitors of the Empire,” Uncle Korkie explained. “The Inquisitors were specialized, Force-sensitive Jedi-hunters. As far as I am aware, none of them joined willingly and they were tortured into obedience. The Jedi and the Sith often call their lightsaber their life. And each Jedi or Sith builds their own lightsaber as they build their own life. The Inquisitors were all given identical, pre-made lightsabers to reflect the way the Empire built their lives as tools of the Empire.”

“That sounds awful,” Rey said with a shudder. For all that her life on Jakku had been brutal and difficult, she had at least been free. She had chosen to be a scrapper rather than any of the worse options and none could claim her obedience.

“I know,” Uncle Korkie said with a grimace. “It was a terrible part of a terrible Empire. But I’m telling all this to you for a reason: this is your mother’s lightsaber.”

Time seemed to stand still to Rey. This was the answer to the puzzle she hadn’t figured out. Uncle Korkie met her mother weeks ago. The Cuyam star system was secret and hadn’t been found by outsiders. The main reason people left Cuyam’s light was as part of the Evaar’lade’s efforts to hunt down imperials. The hunters had hunted Rey’s mother, and that was how they found her mother, why Korkie met her mother. That felt… uncomfortable.

But at the same time, they hadn’t hidden it from her. They hadn’t lied. Rey could have put the pieces together. Uncle Korkie might have even told her if she had asked. And he was telling her now. She could have asked. She had just been overwhelmed with learning a new language and a culture she could call her own.

And there was one question she needed to ask now.

“Is my mother alive?” At Uncle Korkie's nod, Rey moved onto the less urgent questions. “Where is she? Can I see her?”

“She is in Kryze’yaim, in the wing for unwilling guests,” Uncle Korkie said sympathetically. “You can see her, but you must remember what I have told you about her life. The Empire drove her more than half insane and she hasn’t had a chance to properly heal and gain the balance the Empire denied her.”

“Has she said why she abandoned me?” Rey whispered.

“She didn’t believe herself capable of raising you, and she was probably right,” Uncle Korkie said softly. “And I believe she was afraid of making you fall to the dark side – she called it ‘infecting’.”

“Those aren’t terrible reasons,” Rey said with a brightness she didn’t entirely feel. “They’re almost reasonable.”

“Almost, but she should have tried to set you up better,” Uncle Korkie said. “Would you like to keep your mother’s lightsaber?”

“Isn’t it a symbol for how her life was utterly controlled, and how she had no freedom?” Rey asked, frowning at the offending lightsaber.

“It is,” Uncle Korkie confirmed. “But from the same Kyber crystal, I think you can build a better, unique lightsaber, just as I think that with the same bloodline, you can build a better, freer life. Your mother gave me permission to do ‘whatever with it’ and I hope you’ll be able to heal the Kyber crystal.”

“To make it stop screaming and hurting?” Rey asked. She took the screaming lightsaber from her Uncle and cradled it. “I’d like to do that.”

Chapter Text

The blue blaster bolt froze in mid air and Poe Dameron froze with it. He didn’t freeze in fear, though he certainly felt that. No, Poe quite literally could not move. Two First Order Stormtroopers rushed to him, punched him, knocked his gun out of his hand, and started dragging him towards the masked figure known as Kylo Ren. Of course, once they had grabbed him, Poe could move again, but there was little he could do as he was dragged past his blaster bolt.

Poe was forced to his knees before Kylo Ren. The man crouched and stared silently at Poe – or at least Poe thought so, since he couldn’t exactly see the eyes behind the mask. Poe waited for Kylo Ren to say something, but after a few agonizing moments of silence, Poe had to break the staring contest he knew he wasn’t going to win.

“Who talks first?” Poe asked quietly. “You talk first or I talk first?”

“So, the old man gave it to you,” Kylo Ren said – or at least Poe thought that was what he said.

“It’s very hard to understand you with all the-” Poe began to informed the masked man when he stood suddenly.

“Search him,” Kylo Ren ordered.

The Stormtroopers pulled Poe to his feet and began to roughly pat him down. Even if Poe had the map still, he wasn’t sure they would have found it, since it was so small.

“Nothing, sir,” one of the stormtroopers announced in their mechanical-sounding voice.

“Get him-” Kylo Ren began, before something person shaped flew into him at high speed, sending him violently flying off to one side.

The two figures tumbled away past Poe’s blaster bolt, which unfroze, and separated around four x-wing lengths away from where Poe still was. The other person, dressed in what looked like black and purple armor in a style reminiscent but not the same as Stormtrooper armor, was on their feet first, quickly putting a little distance from Kylo Ren, who was still getting up.

The armored figure, who Poe decided to name Armor, then crossed their arms and waited for Kylo Ren to stand up.

“I challenge you, one warrior to another,” Armor said in another partially obscured voice, “for only the strongest may rule.”

“Where the kriff did you come from?” Kylo Ren – was he whining?

“Oh, I was flying along when I noticed you,” Armor said cheerfully, “and I decided I wanted to duel you. Where’s you lightsaber?”

“How were you flying? You don’t even have a jetpack!” Kylo Ren whined.

“Why would I need a jetpack when I have the Force?” Armor asked.

“Jedi!” Kylo Ren exclaimed, giving Poe a little bit of hope. If this was a Jedi, they might be able to defeat -

“No, I am no Jedi,” Armor denied. “I got the Kyber for my lightsaber from my family’s vault, where hundreds of lightsabers of both Jedi and Sith lie, trophies taken from the cooling hands of our enemies! And soon, I will add a new lightsaber to the Vaults.”

If they survived the duel, Poe was so not going to tell this mad person how to find Luke Skywalker. Chances were they’d try to kill him too.

“You may have a family history of fighting Sith, but I am the grandson of Darth Vader, one of the greatest Sith of all time,” Kylo Ren announced. “You are nothing to me!”

Poe’s eyes widened in horror at that information. It was now public knowledge that Darth Vader was once known as Anakin Skywalker and he had exactly two children: the twins, Luke Skywalker and Leia Organa. If Kylo Ren was Darth Vader’s grandson, then he had to be the son of either Luke or Leia. And didn’t General Organa have a missing son?

Armor, though, was unfazed.

“Then take out your lightsaber and fight me, then!” they exclaimed. “Don’t be frightened: I won’t cut off you limbs and leave you to burn in the fires of Mustafar, as my grandfather did to yours. I’ll just kill you.”

“Kenobi?” Kylo Ren guessed.

Wasn’t Kenobi the name of some General in the Clone Wars? Poe would have to remember the name in case he managed to get back and report the night’s events.

“Yes, that’s my name!” Armor confirmed, their irritation leaking through. “Now, I will repeat myself this once: I challenge you, one warrior to another, for only the strongest may rule. Now, fight me!”

“I didn’t now Kenobi had…” Kylo Ren started to say.

It became clear that Kenobi was done talking, since they leaped at Kylo Ren, a purple lightsaber igniting and throwing the purple and black patterns of their armor in stark relief. Kylo Ren managed to get his lightsaber up in time to survive the first blow. Then there were two purple blades emitting from the one cylinder, and Kylo Ren was blocking and blocking and backing up.

With obvious effort, Kylo Ren launched an offensive, beginning to drive Kenobi back. Poe felt his heart sink. Better a mad Sith-hunter than Kylo Ren, Poe thought, and if Kenobi had only had the offensive because they attacked first…

It happened so fast and so suddenly that Poe almost didn’t see it. But almost is almost, and he did see Kenobi reach up and catch Kylo Ren’s lightsaber blade in one hand and cut him in half along his waist with the other.

The red blade and one of the purple blades winked out as Kylo Ren fell into two pieces. Kenobi stepped forward and, blade sinking into the sand, beheaded the man they had just cut in half.

There was absolute silence from the watchers, from Poe and the villagers and the Stormtroopers as Kenobi leaned down to pry Kylo Ren’s lightsaber from his cooling hand, just as they had said they would. The silence continued, only broken by the crackle of flames from the burning village and not the roar of a jetpack, as Kenobi rose into the air and flew towards the watchers as if they did have a jetpack on. They landed not far from Poe, falling the last few feet and bending their knees to absorb the impact. Poe was pretty sure they were used to using jetpacks.

“You two,” Kenobi said, pointing with their unlit lightsaber at the Stormtroopers holding Poe, “release him.”

They did.

Shocked, Poe glanced around and turned to return to his x-wing.

“Seize him!” someone ordered.

The Stormtroopers yanked Poe back and he got a good view of a Stormtrooper with shiny silver armor marching towards Kenobi.

“You’ve gotten your duel,” the shiny Stormtrooper snapped. “What more do you want?”

“Did you not hear my challenge?” Kenobi asked.

“What,” the shiny Stormtrooper said more than asked.

“I said ‘for only the strongest may rule’,” Kenobi repeated. “I challenged Kylo Ren for leadership over all you, and since I killed him, now I am your leader.”

“I don’t think that’s how it works,” the shiny Stormtrooper said.

“It is exactly how it works,” Kenobi insisted. “It’s the main commonality between the Sith and Mandalorians.”

“You’re from Mandalore,” the shiny Stormtrooper realized. “Do you need us to glass-”

“No, actually,” Kenobi said. “I’ve never been to Mandalore. But it is the law of the faction ruling Mandalore and it has always been a truth among the dar’jetiise.”

“Well, it’s not how it works with us,” the shiny Stormtrooper said bluntly. “Since you killed our leader, our highest ranking officer takes control. In this case, me. And you are unimportant to this.”

“Oh, I see,” Kenobi said. “You’re challenging me! What weapons will you use?”

“I am not challenging you!” the shiny Stormtrooper shouted.

“Then stop acting like it before I behead you for insubordination!” Kenobi shouted back. “You two, I will not ask again.”

Kenobi’s unlit lightsaber lifted to point at the Stormtroopers holding Poe, who jumped away from Poe.

“Seize-”

The sound of an igniting lightsaber cut the air and a glowing purple blur went flying towards and through the throat of the shiny Stormtrooper, before rapidly changing direction and flying back to Kenobi’s outstretched hand. The shiny Stormtrooper’s head rolled away from their corpse as Kenobi turned off their lightsaber.

“Right, who’s my new second in command?” Kenobi demanded.

There was silence. Poe started to back away in the direction of his x-wing.

“Sir, this group is made up of multiple squads,” one brave Stormtrooper spoke up. “Each squad has a squad-leader. Above us were Captain Phasma, who you just killed, and above her, Kylo Ren, who you killed in the duel.”

“And you’re one of the squad-leaders?” Kenobi asked.

“Yes, sir,” the Stormtrooper answered.

Poe’s foot hit the sand dune his ship was hidden behind.

“What’s your name?” Kenobi asked.

“My number is DX-2549,” the Stormtrooper answered. “I don’t have a name.”

Poe stopped. Why, in the nine Correllian hells, did the Stormtrooper not have a name? Poe knew that the First Order was a thing of horrors, but the implications of a Stormtrooper not having a name spoke of terrible things. The First Order Stormtroopers were confirmed to not be clones, so they must have had parents who should have named them and raised them. Where was the First Order getting their Stormtroopers from? The numbers were unsurprizing – Stormtroopers had always had numbers – so the Resistance hadn’t noticed anything wrong. But a Stormtrooper telling a Force-sensitive – who could probably sense lies – that they didn’t have names meant that the First Order was not recruiting the same way the Empire had.

“Nickname?” Kenobi asked, as unfazed as always.

“Sometimes I go by 49,” the Stormtrooper said.

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’verd, Kotep,” Kenobi said. “You are Kotep, and you are my second in command. Coordinate with the squad-leaders to put out the fires, to gather our wounded and dead on the ships, and to provide medical assistance to the villagers if they desire it. Tal’aliik, blood marked, come here.”

Orders given, some of the Stormtroopers began moving. The circle of Stormtroopers broke down as they gathered and dispersed to obey their new orders, and the villagers scattered to gather their own wounded and dead. One of the Stormtroopers, their helmet marked by three streaks of red – probably blood – approached Kenobi. Poe was barely close enough to hear the conversation.

“What is your number and nickname?” Kenobi asked.

“FN-2187, and 87, sometimes,” the blood marked Stormtrooper answered.

“Ni kyr’tayl gai sa’verd, Tal’aliik,” Kenobi said. “You are Tal’aliik and you are my student.”

Kylo Ren’s lightsaber hilt rose in the air and came apart by itself. Kenobi reached out and plucked something from the heart of the lightsaber. The lightsaber came back together and was put back on their hip. Kenobi gave the thing from the lightsaber to the newly named Tal’aliik.

“I took his life and gave you its heart,” Kenobi said with an almost ritualistic cadence. “Do you feel its pain?”

Tal’aliik nodded .

“How can a rock feel so much pain?” Tal’aliik asked.

“It’s Kyber,” Kenobi answered.

Poe turned away and slipped out into the desert to find BB-8 again. He could figure out how to tell General Organa that a crazy Sith hunter had killed her maybe-son and stolen part of the First Order later.