Canca'saviin: A Clan Vasher Story [Part I]

It's quiet in space. There was a simple joy to flying through the cosmos, the only sounds coming from the low hum of the ship's engines and the electronic whir of its computer. They were sounds only heard when everything else was silent. It was a peace like no other, and it was one of Za'el's favorite moments. Well, it was his favorite while he was still wearing his armor. His favorite unarmored moments were when he was holding his wife in his arms. Nothing could possibly beat that. But the relaxing serenity that came from watching the planets and stars go by from the cockpit of the Silver Eagle was a close second. Sure he loved the excitement of combat and the challenges of trying to be the absolute best at whatever he did, from hunting bounties to guarding nobles. That was a defining trait of every Mandalorian. But the down times in between were important, essential. He could unwind and digest the most recent events, meditate on ways to improve himself. He always looked for ways to be even better. Unfortunately that peace was currently being interrupted by the crying of his latest query.

"Please let me go," the blue-skinned man begged. "You have the wrong guy!"

Sighing, Za'el swivelled his seat around so he could look at his prisoner. The young Chiss man sat cross-legged in a small, one person cell Za'el had installed in the back of the small cabin just for transporting captured bounties, his red eyes streaming tears. When he noticed the helmeted gaze of the Mandalorian, the young Chiss quickly looked down at his lap and sobbed more.

"Let's see," Za'el said, pulling out a data pad and pulling up information on the screen. "Male Chiss, aged twenty, goes by the name of Talon; wanted for embezzlement of the amount of seven-hundred-fifty-thousand Credits while employed with the Deacon Mining Company on Susevfi, AKA Suarbi 7/5, in the Suarbi system, located in the Quence Sector." He displayed a hologram of the man's wanted picture. At this, the young man sobbed even louder.

"Honestly," the Mandalorian said as he stood, "I can't believe you'd steal from someone like Harvey Deacon in the first place." He crossed the short distance between the cockpit in the front and the cell in the back, passing by the small water closet to the right and the maintenance/supply closet to the left. The young Chiss man looked up as Za'el stepped up to the bars separating them. "He is one of the most honest businessmen I have ever met, unlike the thugs and crime lords who might actually deserve it. Like the Hutts." The Mandalorian scoffed. "But you're way too much of a coward for that, so instead go after a small company owned by a nice guy. Probably thought he would be too complacent or weak-willed to put out a bounty for you. Or you simply weren't thinking at all." The sobbing captive turned his tear-stained face back down, staring at his lap. "A man like him, you could probably just apologize and return the money, and he just might forgive you and drop the charges. Of course, you'd still be without a job."

"I, I... I can't give it back... It's all gone," the man stuttered.

"Gone!?" Za'el asked. "All of it?" The captive nodded. "What could you possibly have blown that much money on in such a short amount of time?"

"The Arr-Twenty-Eight."

"The starfighter you were in? That ragged piece of junk? It wasn't worth anything but scrap metal! It's a miracle it didn't fall apart on you. Belonged in a junkyard. Definitely wouldn't meet safety standards. But even a brand new one straight from the factory wouldn't cost seven-fifty-thousand... You got it on the black market." Another nod.

"I was told it was for the black market fee, the forged license fee, and the laundering fee so the Credits couldn't be traced back to me."

Za'el sighed and put his helmeted head against the bars. "It needed to be laundered so the Credits couldn't be traced to them. They don't care if you fall, so long as they get away with the money. They sold you a junkyard scrap of garbage that could barely fly for three or four times what a brand new one would cost, even after licensing fees. It was a scam. And you fell for it. And now that ship is just a hunk of space debris." The captive's head and shoulders drooped further, and he said nothing.

Za'el sat back down in his captain's chair and turned to look out at the stars. After about half an hour of silence, his captive companion spoke up again. "How long until we arrive?" he asked.

"At current speed, we're about three standard days from Suarbi," Za'el replied.

"Why go sublight? Why not just jump there and get all this over already?"

The Mandalorian held up a gauntleted fist and extended two fingers. "Two reasons. First, this ship didn't originally have a hyperdrive. It once had a detachable jump ring that apparently got destroyed before I came into possession of it. And this ship was a discarded prototype, so there was no replacement available. I managed to install a decent backup hyperdrive, and it generally works well enough, but it's still a nonstandard modification and occasionally acts up. So I use it only when necessary. When I'm in a hurry or if the trip will take more than a week. I have enough provisions for a month.

"Second, I simply enjoy these sublight trips. It gives me time to relax and reflect. No point in being in a hurry. I'm well within the timeframe I gave Mister Deacon on when I'd return. Also," he added, looking back at the man in the cell, "it gives you time to think about what you've done and what you plan to do. To contemplate what you want to do with your life from now on."

"What I want to do with my life...."

It seemed the young man's tears had stopped. He sat in his cell, a look of contemplation on his face. Za'el turned his seat to the side and reclined it, kicking his boots up on the console. He closed his eyes and cleared his mind, letting himself doze....

About an hour and a half had passed when Za'el awoke. He glanced back towards the cell. Its occupant was lying down on his back, hands behind his head, which was propped up on a brown jacket he'd rolled up into a makeshift pillow. He was awake, staring up at the ceiling in deep thought.

Za'el stared back out at the endless expanse of space. He'd once again dreamt of his wife. It was the same dream he'd had for a few months now. It was fuzzy; he couldn't see anything except her face, and it seemed as if she were trying to tell him something but he couldn't hear her. Nyx was a Force user, born and raised amongst the Witches of Dathomir, though she was actually only half human and not at all Zabrak. Za'el was not Force-sensative but it was still entirely possible she was trying to reach out to him, whether consciously or unconsciously. She didn't seem to be in trouble. She actually looked happy, almost excited. So Za'el didn't see any reason to be concerned. Maybe one day he'd invest in a HoloNet transceiver....

"You're not how I thought you'd be," the Chiss man spoke up, bringing the Mandalorian out of his contemplation. "I figured you'd be more... well, brooding and scary, I guess.Typical Mandalorian: trained to kill or hunt people down and doesn't care about anything except getting the job done. That sort of stuff."

"That is a gross generalization," Za'el replied. "All Mandalorians are trained in combat and survival and generally love to test their abilities. Nonetheless, all Mandalorians possess different personalities, just like anyone else. Actually, we're probably the most diverse people in existence, considering we're made up of many different species. Sure, the majority may be human, human offshoots, or near-humans, but pretty much anyone can be adopted as a Mandalorian. As long as said person has the desire and a Mando sponser."

"So what does it actually mean to be Mandalorian?"

"Well," Za'el answered, "the specific meaning is personal to each clan or even individual. In general, though, it can be summed up in the Resol'nare, or the Six Tenets.



"This is the foundation of being one of the Mando'ade. Our tribe, or clan, is our family. It does not matter if you were born into it, were a foundling, or even if you were adopted as an adult."

"Wow," the young man said as he continued to stare up at the ceiling of the cell, as if he could see through the top of the ship and were looking at the stars. "I've never really had a family. Clans in Chiss society are more buerocratic than familial. And apparently I had an uncle that did something that was considered to have 'brought shame upon the family' and the whole clan was exiled. I never even knew what actually happened because I was just a baby at the time. Maybe it was something atrocious, or maybe it was simply the exile that did it, but my parents were driven to alcohol, death sticks, and tempest spice. Obviously it eventually killed them and left me as an orphan. I don't even remember my full Chiss name, just my short name. I've simply been Talon my whole life." He sat up and leaned forward against the cell bars, looking earnestly at the Mandalorian. "Do you think even someone like me could possibly be adopted?"

"First of all, remember that you were just snivelling and crying like a baby because you got caught after doing something incredibly foolish. Then cast aside the question you just asked and instead ask yourself, 'is who I am now the person I want to be, or do I want to be better? Do I want to strive to be the best version of myself I possibly can?' Instead of asking, "can I become Mandalorian?' ask 'do I desire it enough to work to make it happen?'"

"I..." Talon set his face with a look of determination. "I do want to be better! I want a place to belong! I want not to be judged for something someone else did but for how hard I work from this point forward! I want to overcome this setback and strike forward a new man!"

Za'el beamed with a wide, unseen grin. "That's a great start! If you're still serious after you are finished with your current situation, head to Concord Dawn. Say Za'el sent you and ask for a woman named Suzu Vasher. Tell her you are looking for a fresh start, your cin vhetin.

"Cin vhetin," Talon repeated, "and you're Za'el. Who is this Suzu Vasher?"

"She's the most badass person I know," Za'el replied. "My mother."