Kellaro only had a little time before Mako returned from her hunt, but he HAD to know.
He dressed in his father’s old beskar armor, pulling each buckle as tight as it would go to fit his slight frame. The helmet felt heavy on his head; it wasn’t his dad’s, for that had been lost. It instead belonged to a Zabrak Mako had filled a bounty on, and whose head hadn’t been the same shape as Kellaro’s. Kellaro thought it made him look fiercer, though really, the oversized Mandalorian helm looked ridiculous on the young teen.
He quickly let himself out of the ship’s hatch and jogged down to the cantina nearest the Mos Ila spaceport. The Outlander’s bounty was displayed on all the major boards, and Kellaro squinted at each one. Did his father really lurk behind that mask, he wondered, or was it a stranger: a monster like the Eternal Empire claimed? Supposedly the Outlander had shot Emperor Valkorian in the back…
A collection of bounty hunters was clustered under one such bulletin, paying it no heed but engaged in a game of sabacc. The chits they passed about stood not for money but for jobs. Kellaro felt his lip curl at the unprofessional practice, and he was very glad for the anonymity afforded by his helmet. He slipped among them, thinking he might pick up on some more information, and they gave him room, clearly wary of his Mandalorian armor. But when he continued to stand there in silence, one bumped into him with his shoulder and guffawed softly, derisively, when Kellaro staggered.
It was a test, one he had seen his mother put through innumerous times (and most often, failed). Kellaro suddenly missed the stoic presence of Akaavi, Mako’s new business partner, but at least he knew some of the older woman’s tricks. Once he had regained his feet, Kellaro placed his toe on the man’s calf and shoved. The man’s knee buckled, and now he was the one staggering. Kellaro let out a derisive guffaw himself, and it became him the others were looking at in appreciation. He had unofficially earned his place at the table.
Once the laughter had died down and the game resumed, Kellaro jutted his chin at the Outlander’s bounty poster. “Heard he was in town today,” he grumbled, making his voice gravelly where he couldn’t make it low. He hoped it didn’t suddenly crack.
The other bounty hunters paused.
“Bet his bounty would go for a lot,” Kellaro added.
“Yeah, to the one who’s tough enough to take him down,” said another of the hunters, an older man with a weatherbeaten face and grizzled hair. He watched as the hunter next to Kellaro moved to shove him again; Kellaro sidestepped, and everyone else laughed. “You think you can take him, young pup?” the older hunter pressed. “Scrawny thing like you?”
“Yeah, I do,” said Kellaro, squaring his shoulders defiantly.
The other bounty hunters laughed yet again, and Kellaro relented. “But, er, I would be willing to give you a finder’s fee if you can give me any information about him.”
The bounty hunters quieted, exchanging looks. Finally, one pointed towards the back of the cantina. “Mando with that same armor went in there a few hours past,” he said. “If you hurry — and you’re lucky — maybe you can catch him in there.”
“Just don’t let him know who spilled on him,” muttered another.
“Yeah, not likely,” said Kellaro. “I know how this works.”
And so he did. He took his leave and edged towards the back of the cantina, buying a drink here, talking up a girl there, to make himself look casual, though he was glad his armor concealed his nervous sweat. He passed through an open doorway into a quiet room, but not a private one. A band was playing a sultry tune in one corner and the lights were dim; he almost couldn’t make out the outline of an armed and armored figure in the corner. The Mandalorian faced the only exit so as to keep an eye on it, and it seemed he was looking directly at Kellaro. A courtesy drink was at the man’s elbow, untouched.
The Mando sat motionless, and as Kellaro approached him, the teenager’s mouth went dry. The other man did nothing as he came closer, simply tilted his helmeted head so he could see the band past Kellaro.
Kellaro swallowed hard, shoved his worries into the back of his head, then put himself in the line of sight of that emotionless mask. He cleared his throat.
“Su cuy’gar,” said the Mando in their tongue.
“Uh…” Kellaro had no idea what to say. “Outlander?” Might as well confirm his identity, he thought.
But the Mando said nothing.
Then… click, went something behind Kellaro’s head. He straightened abruptly: it was the arming of a blaster, and he was pretty sure he knew who it belonged to. “I told you I was going to take him alone and give you the finder’s fee!” Kellaro protested. “Go away!”
“We decided the credits would split more evenly without paying a kid,” came the sneery voice of the hunter who had kept shoving him at the sabacc table.
“One problem to that plan,” the Mandalorian suddenly broke in, his deep voice calm, though faintly annoyed. “I’m not dead yet.”
Quick as a flash, the Mando yanked out his own blaster and, zam, zam, let off two shots past Kellaro’s head. Someone grabbed Kellaro from behind and bodily threw him out of the way. Zam! Zam zam! sang more blasters, and Kellaro couldn’t tell what was happening as he hit the wall and his overlarge helmet spun in front of his eyes.
By the time he got it straightened out, a Mandalorian blaster muzzle was jammed against his neck, in the gap between his helmet and the beskar armor.
“Wait!” said Kellaro. “All I wanted to do was talk, I swear!”
The Mando cursed, and after a moment’s consideration, the blaster muzzle was lifted. “I don’t kill kids,” he said in disgust. And he started to leave.
“No! Don’t go!” Kellaro cried as the Mando stood up, but the Mando wasn’t listening.
“Run off, boy. This bounty is over your head.”
“No, wait!”
He had come so close. He couldn’t go home empty-handed now. Kellaro struggled to his feet and pulled off his helmet so the Mando could at least see him, though the light was still dim.
The Mandalorian looked on in silence, expression hidden by his own helmet.
“Are you really the Outlander?” Kellaro asked.
The Outlander nodded slightly.
“I think….” He just had to say it. “You’re my dad.”
Slowly the man took off his own helmet, and Kellaro’s heart yammered in his chest. The Mando’s face was pale and deeply rutted by scars. His eyes were a shocking blue and his long, plaited hair a platinum blonde.
Kellato felt tears spring to his eyes. “I knew it. I just knew it!”
“Brant…? Or… Kellaro?”
The name of his deceased twin made the tears spill over. Kellaro stumbled forward and hugged the metal breastplate, the man it enclosed: his father.
“Well, you’re one of them anyway,” grumbled Keel’ath and hugged him back. The two helmets dropped to the floor beside them, unheeded.
“Mother said you weren’t alive, but I knew it wasn’t true,” said Kellaro. He abruptly pulled back. “Where WERE you?”
“Frozen in carbonite,” said Keel’ath. Kellaro’s eyes went round. “Eh, long story. But now I’m here, aren’t I? And…where are the others?”
“Mother’s… out of town,” Kellaro said haltingly. “And Brant’s –”
Zam! Boom! Their conversation was interrupted by blaster fire, as a particularly large ion burst exploded over their heads. Keel’ath clamped Kellaro to his chest and spun around so his body shielded the teenager from the sparks.
“After you, or me?” asked Keel’ath as he pushed them both under the table.
“I dunno!”
“Regardless, stay behind me.”
“But I know how to fight!”
The next volley almost took off Kellaro’s ear as he tried to jerk above the table, and Keel’ath hauled him back down. “BEHIND me!” Keel’ath snapped, and the Mandalorian ducked sideways, letting out a return volley between the table legs. He rolled and grabbed his helmet, replacing it neatly before firing several more blasts.
“How can I stay behind you if you keep moving?!” Regardless, Kellaro flattened himself against the table leg. Another shot took out the courtesy drink, splattering him with liquid and glass. Squinting shut one eye, he peered over the table and took his aim. Keel’ath was moving around too much, almost like a Jedi, for him to get a clear shot that way. Then he spied a Twi’lek aiming at them from behind another table. Kellaro fired.
His shot caused the hunter to gasp and drop his weapon, and another shot finished the alien off. Keel’ath careered sideways into the falling Twi’lek, readied to punch him, then glanced up at Kellaro when he saw the man was already subdued. Kellaro grinned at him.
“Great,” said Keel’ath. “Now let’s get out of here!”
They ran into Mako’s hangar with the bounty hunters hot on their tail. Keel’ath held back, putting himself between Kellaro and the blaster fire again. The Mandalorian armor they wore would stop most blasts, but he didn’t want to take the chance with his own son.
Kellaro put on a burst of speed as soon as the ship was in view, calling to someone named Akaavi to man the guns. Obediently a pair of them dropped from the ship’s underbelly and began firing; Keel’ath had to drop to the floor to avoid the blasts. Of course this Akaavi would recognize Kellaro, but not him.
The ship’s hatch opened and Kellaro ducked inside, but to Keel’ath’s annoyance, the boy hung around, firing shots into the bounty hunters still coming up the passage. Keel’ath crawled to the side, only standing up when he had crates between him and the ship’s guns, and part of the hangar wall between him and the bounty hunters. There were six of them, working together as a team. Two set down shield generators that deflected the ship’s guns and Kellaro’s blaster. Another pair targeted the ship’s engines with rifles, though they only dared to use ray disruptors at this range, so as not to tempt an explosion.
None of them had seen Keel’ath apparently. He tiptoed up behind them, firing his blaster rifle point blank into one’s back and slamming the butt end into another’s head.
Then someone took him in the back. The blaster shot felt like plasma splattered across the back of his knees; whoever had fired it clearly knew Mandalorian armor and its weak points. The six must not have been so reckless after all. Keel’ath went down on one knee, gritting his teeth through the pain. Blaster fire zipped past his head, taking down two of the hunters with what seemed like friendly fire. Then zam! another shot got him just where his breastplate attached to his hip-guards, finding the small gap where the plates pivoted. Skies, that hurt!
Keel’ath dropped and rolled to the side, trying to give himself time to think. Kellaro was screaming something, and on father’s instinct Keel’ath darted upright again and blasted one of the last hunters standing. Their rearguard had come out of hiding, but either she was a bad shot or — zam! another blast took him, right on the kneecap. This one was at least deflected, but the ship’s guns echoed over his head as he dropped, reminding him of that problem, too.
“No! Stop! Don’t shoot!” A form darkened Keel’ath’s vision.
“Get out of the way!” His own snarl was echoed by another. The rearguard gunner was closing, her blaster trained on Keel’ath and Kellaro up front of him… then abruptly it dropped.
Keelath looked between Kellaro’s boots, and his heart flipped a few times. He forgot he was down on the ground with several blaster shot wounds on his sides and legs. The pain no longer felt so bad. Mako.
“Get out of the way!” Mako demanded again.
“Don’t shoot! It’s not what you think,” said Kellaro.
“This is no time for your games!”
Ah. She must have been returning from her hunt, only to find these hunters on her own doorstep, attacking her family for what must seem no reason. She probably had seen his Outlander armor, with no comprehension of who was inside it. Ironically, just as he had mistaken her for a bounty hunter, so she was now mistaking him…
Easily fixed, at least. Keel’ath reached up and pulled off his helm.
Mako’s blaster clattered to the floor and her hands smacked her face. Keel’ath would have laughed at her expression, but he was instead simply looking into her eyes like he’d never see enough of them.
“I told you!” Kellaro was saying triumphantly. “You didn’t believe me, but I told you so! I found him, Mom. I found Dad!”
Even the teen’s giddy joy wasn’t fully registering. Mako had become the only thing in Keel’ath’s world. His long search was finally over.
“What was that racket about?” came a new voice, as a woman Keel’ath thought must be Akaavi descended from the ship’s hatch. But no one answered, not then. Mako was suddenly in Keel’ath’s arms and he was kissing her hair, then her forehead, then her lips. He felt her sweet, soft form pressed against his armor, and even Kellaro was backing off with a soft cough of embarrassment.
But Akaavi wasn’t perturbed. “Who is this?” she demanded.
Mako sat back, but her hands didn’t leave Keel’ath’s shoulders, nor her eyes his. “My husband.” Even her words seemed to glow.
“Huh. He doesn’t look dead to me,” said Akaavi.
“I told you–” Kellaro started to crow, but Akaavi whacked him across the nape of his neck with her blaster’s stock.
“Don’t you start! You’re in a lot of trouble, sneaking out today.”
Mako stood up, the moment broken as her attention turned back to her son. “Sneaking out? What happened?”
“I found Dad,” Kellaro said, resentfully rubbing his neck. “He’s the Outlander.”
“Those bounty hunters were likely after me, not you,” said Keel’ath.
“Not likely,” said Mako. “Business had been bad… I didn’t get the mark, Akaavi. He flew the coop before I got there.”
“Damn,” muttered Akaavi.
“Tell me,” said Keelath, and everyone looked at him, as if they had no idea what to do with him.
“Where have you been?” Mako finally burst out.
“The Outlander –” started Kellaro, but Akaavi threatened him with her stock again.
“It’s true? It’s all true?” Mako squeaked. “I mean. I know you’re fierce, big guy, but… You killed the — ??”
“Yes,” said Keel’ath, “and that is why I was away. Look, it’s a long story, but believe me… I’ve been trying to get back to you ever since I woke up from the carbonite. Your absence been driving me nuts, woman.”
Mako went quiet and sidled into him, almost embarrassed, but Keel’ath felt her relaxing as they touched hips again. “I’ve missed you,” she began in a choked voice.
“And I, you,” Keel’ath assured her. “All of you.” He opened an arm to Kellaro, who bounded in enthusiastically, then sheepishly, to hug him. “You wear the armor well,” Keelath added to the boy.
“Th-thanks.”
“I’ve missed you,” Keelath repeated. “You and — where is Brant?”
Both of them abruptly broke away from his hug, looked at each other, then looked at him.
“Brant is–” Kellaro started.
“He’s–” Mako began with a choke.
“It’s a long story,” said Akaavi, seemingly unimpressed by the tearful reunion. “And we should exchange stories once we’re in orbit, away from all parties seeking to kill us,” she added.
“Oh, right,” said Mako with an embarrassed head-duck, and Keel’ath conceded it was a good idea.