Chapter Text
The funny thing about life is, it can’t really exist without death. I died thinking that I would simply cease to exist, I had even asked that I be allowed to decompose naturally. What I had not expected, was to open my eyes again.
It is very difficult to even move properly at first, and I’m lucky that I can only seem to access my higher thinking for very short periods of time for the first couple of years. As I grow more used to my new body, and learn how to control it, myself, I also grow able to actually think for longer periods of time. It’s pretty easy to come to the conclusion that I’m either in the future or some strange alternate universe because only one of the three people raising me even looks human.
I have three main caretakers; they all refer to themselves with the same title I assume means parent. Something about it tickles my subconscious as they begin encouraging me to speak more often.
It’s as one of them, the only one I’d call human, holds up a new toy that looks familiar, that I come to a wonderful and awful conclusion. I’m being raised by Mandalorians. Somehow, I had been born in some version of the Star Wars universe. Once I realize, I’m terrible embarrassed by how long it had taken me to figure it out.
My caretakers had literally been referring to themselves and each other as buire with what must be shortened versions of their names as prefixes. I must make a strange face at the revelation because my almost human buir makes a face in return and lowers the toy. Feeling bad I reach for it and smile a gummy smile.
This seems to perk them up and I hug the toy and listen as they talk in the rolling cadence of what must be Mando’a. It’s a softer language than I thought it would be. Maybe they just soften the edges of it when they talk to me, because I’m a baby. Either way, I soon fall asleep to the sound of their rolling voice and the feel of a gentle hand on my little head. I hug the toy closer to me and try to remember everything I can about Mandalorians as I fall deeper.
-
When I next wake up with my full mind, I’m determined to map out everything I know about where I am now. It’s harder than I would like. I loved Star Wars in my last life, but being a fan does not translate to knowing and understanding when and where you actually are.
Giving that up for a lost cause for now, I instead focus on my buire and learning the languages they spoke, as quickly as possible. That is another thing I soon realize, my buire speak in a mix of at least three languages. Though they talk to each other in a mix of two languages they each pick a different language to talk to me in.
Even without being able to really understand their words they are all clearly in love. Sickeningly sweet with each other, seemingly never calling each other by their actual names and only using various nicknames. They refer to themselves in the third person when talking to me sometimes, trying to get me to say their names first. Even then it seems to just be the first syllable as a prefix to buir.
I decide that Xen’buir is the one that focuses on Mando’a with me. Though I am far from fluent, and was definitely pronouncing things wrong in my past life, I recognize some of the terms they use with me. Xen almost looks human, though I would never call them that. Their head is blue and scaled and has fleshy tendrils of the same color instead of hair. Their eyes are a bright indigo that contrast beautifully with their dark skin, and even though they are humanoid in shape I am certain they are not.
Shlin’buir, the only one I would call human, focuses on the language I hear my buire sprinkle into their conversations with each other amidst the Mando’a. I say that they are almost human because I have never seen a human with eyes like theirs. They almost seem to glow, and I wouldn’t be surprised if they could see in the dark. Other than that, they appear human. They are also the one that spends the most time with me, the others likely working.
Because I spend more time with them, I am more advanced in the language they focus on. One day when the others are out they start using flashcards with Aurebesh and I connect the language with Basic. ‘Basic’ is not actually the same language as English. There goes any hope of having an easy language to ‘learn’ later. It would be funny how different it is from English if I wasn’t to learn the language from scratch.
My last buir is a Pantoran, a species I recognize from my last life as a fan. Co’buir has the biggest emotions out of my buire, so it is obvious whenever he intends to have a language lesson with me. He is not as strict about only addressing me with one language, often speaking to me with a happy mix of Mando’a and Basic, delighted even when I butcher both as I begin to speak more. When he teaches me the third language, he is solemn, and he always does it when we are alone. I don’t get the impression that he is trying to hide it at all, but he is always more subdued when we sit for those lessons.
After a few years I learn that he’s teaching me Pantoran, and I wonder why it makes him so sad to teach me the language of his people.
-
As I grow, and grow more confident in speaking and reading I am allowed access to more learning materials, mostly in Mando’a and Basic. Most of my cultural learning is through living with my buire and the community. We live in a small town on Conchord Dawn, a Mando’ade colonized planet that focusses mostly on agriculture. The planet seemingly has it’s own traditions and festivals around the harvest, but most of the holidays are still Mandalorian.
My family doesn’t really have their own farm, instead Shlin’buir runs a pub with some modest rooms that we sometimes rent out to Mando’ade passing through or visiting Concord Dawn. Co’buir and Xen’buir help out when they’re here, sometimes they go off planet on bounties when one or the other of them grows restless. As I get older still, I learn they used to all be beroya, and had worked as a team for nearly a decade before settling down and taking over the pub from an old friend. Shlin’buir just seems to have taken better to the calmer lifestyle.
It's a good life, even though I can’t connect the star date to anything in the Sar Wars canon, having never really been one to worry about specifics like that in my last life. When I give up on trying to do it that way, I ask my buire and our patrons about what’s going on in the wider galaxy. I usually get personal stories of bounties and adventure rather than the political climate and events, but I content myself with the glimpses of context I get.
For us to be this open as Mandalorians its clearly either well before or much after the Empire, so I try not to be too worried about it.
There’s not much I can do as a five-year-old after all.
-
“Trin’ika! What did I say about bothering your ba’vodu while she’s in the middle of the mid-meal rush?!” Shlin’buir fusses from the dining area as I ask our besalisk cook about her facial scar for probably the hundredth time. I don’t even know how she heard me.
She laughs at me, and I stick my tongue out at her before shouting back to my buir, “To not to!”
Mida had rolled into the pub three years ago and never really left, becoming something like an aunt to me and letting Shlin’buir go on the occasional bounty with my other buire when they wanted.
She eyes me as I carefully peel a tuber to help prep for late meal. “When do you start baj’hibir with the other traa’ike?”
“Primeday! I’m excited since they let me pick my own classes!”
She snorts in amusement, “You are the only mando’ade that’s more excited for sitting learning than battle strag.”
Co’buir chooses that moment to breeze in from the back entrance of the pub with Xen’buir in tow.
He pokes his head into the kitchen a gasps. “Is that my coplika ad’ika I see!” He says more than asks, before he snatches me off my perch causing the peeler and mangled tuber to fall into the sink. He twirls me and I giggle in spite of myself.
When he stops I scold him through my breathless giggles, “It’s the midmeal rush! You’re gonna be in trouble with Shlin’buir.”
“He’s gonna be in trouble with me for roughhousing in my kitchen.” Mida grouches.
Co’buir laughs and starts to carry me out of the kitchen. “The good thing about having two riduure is that one of them can distract the other when you get into mischief.” He finishes whispering before we make it into the seating area.
There I see Xen’buir is indeed distracting Shlin’buir and I make the disgusted sounds appropriate for a five-year-old upon seeing their buire expressing affection.
They break away from each other and Xen’buir levels me with an unimpressed look that makes me grin. Out of all my buire, Xen is the only one that suspects that I’m smarter than I should be.
As they steal me from Co’buir to smother me with affection I feel grateful that they’ve never confronted or held it against me. If anything, I have Xen to thank for pushing to get me into advanced placement. It’s because of them I was able to pick my courses and get classes like ‘Current Events’ and ‘Long Term Tactics’.
As far as I know, the three main factions during the franchise haven’t sprung up yet. Jaster Mereel isn’t Mand’alor and hasn’t published the Super commando codex anywhere I’ve been able to access. It’s continued to be difficult trying to figure out when in canon I’ve been born and I’m hoping I’ll be able to connect some dots in class.
At five standard years my buire still won’t let me do much, only having physical training disguised as games with my agemates twice a week. Luckily, I’ve found it easier to think even as a prepubescent in this life, and I wonder if it has anything to do with not being strictly human. I don’t really look like any of my buire, so I expect I am some kind of foundling, but there is something I can’t quite place that’s convinced me I’m not strictly human.
Regardless, it’s made planning for the future much simpler, despite all of the convoluted things that went wrong in Star Wars.
My plan pretty much boils down to:
Figure out when I am
Stop Jaster from dying
Stop New Mandalorian/Death Watch factions from gaining power?
Stop Jango from losing his buire and vod?
Prevent Galidraan
Abduct Obi-wan?
Profit?
I can figure out the rest of it later but with as little information as I have it’s the best I’ve got. I’ll have to update it as I learn more.
-
After Co’buir and Xen’buir had returned from their latest mission, my buire had presented me with my first pieces of training armor. The thin durasteel was lighter than I was expecting, though that is likely the point. We spent the night going over the different colors and patterns I could have, and the next day they took me to the local Goran to buy my own paints. Apparently, the paint used for training armor and Beskar were different, so even though I had chosen colors my buire already used I would need my own.
After a lesson on how to clean and safely apply the paint I impatiently waited for them to dry. Looking at my new orange, purple and white vambraces gave me new determination to make the most of this second chance at life. I may not know how I got here, but I would use this opportunity to make the Galaxy a better place to live. Not just for myself or the characters I had loved, but for this new family.
I was going to be the best Mandalorian, and I was going to drag the rest of the Galaxy into a future I could live with.
-
Class is a little nerve wracking the first week. Due to my age, not even the advanced placement convinces any of the adults to let me be in school all day, so I only take classes in the morning coming home for lunch. Even with all the accommodations, I am still in class with children at least twice my age, though they are more often older.
I stand out even more due to my lack of armor. Though a few are still in training armor, all of them have more than just vambraces strapped over their clothes. A large portion of the ade were clearly past their verd’goten and eyed me disbelievingly.
The instructor had insisted I sit in the front too, so there wasn’t even a way for me to hide from all of the eyes I could feel focused on my back. It doesn’t help when the instructor takes role and it is revealed that I am a part of clan Vizsla, which I had not known. It doesn’t matter that I was clearly a part of an offshoot that had never been to even see the main branch, the name is famous enough to hold the attention of the few kids that hadn’t been focusing on me due to my age.
I had assumed that my aliit weren’t affiliated with any major clans. Co’buir had been a foundling to a small aliit that occasionally visited the pub, Xen’s buir had been unaffiliated to anything except the bounty hunter’s guild, and Shlin’buir never talked about their aliit outside of us.
It honestly doesn’t make sense when the instructor calls my name at first and I don’t realize they’re talking about me until they look right at me. It’s only then that I confirm that I’m in fact there and the instructor moves on.
Being a Vizsla does spin up more aspects to my plan though. I still haven’t figured out when I am in relation to canon. With any luck, maybe Tor hasn’t yet become the maniac he would be in canon. Who knows, maybe I’ll be his ori’vod.
It hardly matters now; I need to figure out when I am. If my Current Events class couldn’t help then maybe I can convince my buire to let me meet the other Vizslas to figure it out.
-
When I ask if I can meet other Vizslas I am met with a range of emotions from my buire. Xen laughs, not at me I don’t think because I watch Shlin’buir lean down to whack their forehead on the table in front of them while Co’buir curses and pulls out his sack of credits. I watch confusedly as Co'buir passes a healthy handful of credits to Xen’buir while Shlin’buir continues to hit their head on the counter.
Not knowing what landmine, I had just inadvertently stepped in, I rush to grab a nearby cloth to shove under them on their next upswing. After bringing their head down on the towel they just let it rest there, and I glance nervously from them to my other buire still not understanding.
“Did I, say something wrong?” I ask haltingly.
Co’buir sighs, “No Trin’ika, you didn’t say anything wrong. It’s just that…” He trails off and looks to Shlin’buir where they’re slumped over the table still.
When neither of them finishes the sentence Xen’buir pipes up. “It’s just that Shlin’buir left home without ever explaining where they were going, and if we go back, they’re going to have to explain themself.”
I chew on that for a few moments before asking, “Are Shlin’buir’s old clan bad people?” Thinking back on what had happened during the Mandalorian Civil War in canon.
Co’buir quickly shakes his head though. “It’s not that, it’s just-”
Shlin’buir interrupts by finally lifting their head and letting out a derisive laugh. “If I go back that meddlesome old man is going to try to make me take over the Clan and be alor.”
My mind spins. Is this something I can change? By me being here can I convince Shlin’buir to go back and take over as Clan Alor, thus preventing Tor from taking power?
When I look closely at my distressed buir I don’t see anger or disgust at the idea, I see doubt. Making up my mind I clamber into their lap forcing them away from the table and take their face in my hands to pull them into a mishmure’cya.
“I think you’d be an amazing alor.” I whisper.
My other buire come close to put their hands on Shlin’buir’s shoulders. Shlin’buir crushes me to their chest and looks up at their riduure.
They must have appropriately supportive looks on their face because Shlin’buir says, “Maybe we can start with a holo-call.”
-
My buire have the rest of the conversation without me and they decide to do the first call while I’m in class to see how well it will go. I have a hard time concentrating, worried about the holo-call. If this goes well, I could prevent the Mandalorian Civil War. In spite of me getting lost in my head, I only get a couple odd looks from the instructor, otherwise not getting called out.
I map out all of the things that could change by this singular alteration and worry about whether it was okay to force Shlin’buir into a position to take on a leadership role they clearly don’t want. It may all be a moot point; they’d easily been gone a decade and a half. Fifteen years can change a lot. The clan may not even want Shlin’buir back.
When the midday chime sounds, I rush out of class without a backwards glance, eager to see how the call had gone. Xen’buir picks me up and instead of bringing me home they take me to the local café to get us sandwiches and warm drinks for mid-meal. They seem solemn so I stay quiet and wait for them to decide to say something.
They finish their sandwich and are nursing their spiced caf before they say anything. Clearing their throat, they wipe their mouth and look intently at me. “Trinde, I know we don’t really acknowledge it, but your other buire and I know you know more than a normal ad your age.”
I swallow and slowly set down my sandwich but don’t say anything.
“We make sure you go to physical training with ade you age and taught you everything we reasonably could, but you blew past all of the modules for ade your age, excluding science and math of course.”
I make a face, and they smile, “Not to say you’re not shockingly good at that too, but Coplan was relived that you slowed down at Xenobiology and Astro-navigational trigonometry.”
They pause to take a sip of their caf and I mirror them by taking a sip from my spiced Hoth chocolate.
“The reason I bring this up is because I don’t want you to start using that big brain to trick us into doing something you want.”
I go to defend myself but they hold a hand up before I can say anything. “Telling Shlin that they’d make an amazing alor could be seen as a simple attempt to comfort them, but I saw your thinking face before you said that.” They look deeply into my eyes with their bright indigo ones. “I want you to tell me what you are planning.”
I chew my lip as my mind races. I can’t tell them about reincarnating or how all of this was a part of a fiction in my last life. I couldn’t tell them I might know what the future holds if only I could figure out when I was in relation to events. I pause at that thought. Could I? Force sensitives sometimes have visions of the future. I’m not force sensitive as far as I can tell, that being one of the first things I had checked once realizing the universe I was in.
I glance up at Xen’buir to see them watching me patiently as I think. They’d have no way to know if I’m force sensitive. Mandalorians aren’t as learned in the force as the Jedi, so it’s unlikely to ever be a thing that anyone would call me out on, especially if I only told my buire about it. Making up my mind I nod to myself before taking a deep breath and telling Xen’buir a version of the truth.
After a long minute of silence digesting my words, Xen’buir decides that it is something they are simply unqualified to deal with on their own and packs us up to return home. When we get there Everything seems to be going normally, the late mid-meal crowd being helped by Shlin’buir and Co’buir, Merla audibly rattling around in the kitchen. Shin’buir doesn’t seem upset, so I hope they’re not upset by whatever conversation they had.
Xen’buir herds me upstairs and tells me to do my coursework before they tromp back downstairs, presumably to either help my other buire or talk to them about what I had told them at mid-meal. I am quickly distracted by an aruetii coming out of one of our boarding rooms. Something about them simultaneously makes me want to ignore them and puts me on high alert.
Narrowing my eyes I take stock of them, they wear mid-grade spacer gear and walk with a limp. The most prominent thing about them is a prominent facial scar that runs through one eye. Something about it scratches something in my brain and as they pass me on their way down the stairs, I find myself following them.
They find an empty table and soon have an order of our mild stew that Shlin’buir insists we have available in case any non-Mandos come in. I sidle up to their table and pop up onto the chair next to them. They look at me curiously but don’t say anything.
Weighing my options I decide to act on my hunch I ask, “Why’d they send a shadow here? We’re in the middle of nowhere.”
They pale and flit their eyes around as though trying to find whoever sent me over here. “I don’t know what you’re talking about kid.”
Not wanting to see what they’ll do if they panic, I wave my hands, “No, it’s okay. No one else knows, I just had a hunch.” I pause and tack on, “Don’t try to mind trick me though ‘cause I’ll scream.”
They sit back and observe me and our surroundings for a long while. “Why do you think, any of that.” They say with a vague hand motion.
“You’re clearly not from around here, but for some reason I didn’t want to immediately ask you a ton of questions. I actually wanted to ignore you, which made me sit up in my head because I always want to ask new people questions, even if I don’t.”
They narrow their eyes and look closer at me, not seeming to find what their looking for, they huff in a dissatisfied way before asking, “Why’d you call me a shadow?”
I look at them like They’re dumb, “You’re in disguise, and still haven’t confirmed anything I’ve said.”
Not acknowledging my last point they ask, “What’s your name kid?”
Feeling cheeky I say, “I’ll tell you if you tell me yours.”
Smiling a little they say, “Buq Treirvoth.” And it tastes sour.
“Fine, I won’t tell you. Guess you don’t want secrets.”
They get an odd look on their face, “It’s the name I signed in under, this inn uses your Ident to allow you to get a room.”
“Yeah, but that’s not your name.” I say, growing more certain in the conviction as time goes on. Seeing their face grow more shuttered I add, “I’ll tell you something about Yoda~.”
They quirk their lips involuntarily and say, “Tholme” in a quiet voice.
In contrast I squeal and burst out, “I knew it!” This draws the attention of a few nearby tables and Co’buir I blush under the scrutiny and apologize. A few regulars just shake their heads and laugh going back to their meals, Co’buir comes over though.
“I’m sorry, is my ad’ika bothering you? She knows better than to accost guests.” He gives me a pointed look and I shrink a little in my seat.
Tholme smiles, “Not a bother, your daughter just had some questions.”
Co’buir scoffs, “It starts with a few questions. Don’t let her keep you, she knows to respect other people’s time.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
Co’buir mouths. ‘behave’ at me before heading back to grab someone’s food from the kitchen.
Before Tholme can comment on the interaction with Co’buir I brush past it and hold an arm out, “I’m Trinde, and Yoda catches frogs to eat them live.”
Tholme blanches at that and I laugh. “How could you possibly know that?” he asks.
Grinning evilly, I pose an option. “How about we go back and forth answering questions and sharing secrets, we’ll both have three passes, and if you use all of them you can’t ask any more questions, we’ll go until we’ve both used all our passes.”
He narrows his eyes, “Just to establish rules, can we ask the same question twice?”
I shake my head, “No, we can only ask a question once, and we have to answer honestly. It can be vague, but the truth.”
“Deal,” He holds his hand to shake, and I bypass it and grab his forearm.
“This is how Mando’ade do it.”
He smiles and after a shake releases my arm, “Alright, would you like to go first, since I already got a secret?”
I nod and think. This is an amazing way to figure out where we are in the timeline. Fans naturally know more about the Jedi than Mandalorians due to the focus of most of the media. I decide on, “Who is Quigon Jinn’s apprentice right now?”
I let Tholme sit in his shock over the direction of my question for a moment. Eventually he says, “I believe he is training a young man that recently lost his master, I do not know his name though.”
Feemor then, Obi-wan probably hasn’t even been born yet. I’m early in the timeline.
Tholme leans forward a bit and asks, “How do you seem to know so much about the Order?”
Having expected the question I grin, “I know a lot of things I probably shouldn’t, I don’t know why.”
He sits back and hums. Having gotten what I needed already I let him ruminate. His food comes and Xen’buir gives me the stink eye when they see me. I grin at them, and they just shake their head exasperatedly walking off.
“Do you have another question?” Tholme asks before taking a bite of stew.
Weighing my options I finally ask, “Can I have Madame Nu’s comm information?”
Thome hesitates where he’d been about to take another bite of food and puts the spoon back in his bowl. “Why would you want that?”
“Hey, it’s my question. Answer mine first.”
“I don’t have her comm number. It’s bad enough seeing her when I need information from the Archives.”
I frown at the table, so much for that.
“Why do you even want that?” Tholme asks again, sounding truly bewildered.
“I’m from Clan Vizsla, I wanted to see what she has on Mand’alor the Ultimate.” I hum to myself for a second and decide to pivot, “Why are you on Conchord Dawn?”
“Pass. Who is Mandalore the Ultimate?”
Huffing in frustration at the abrupt brush off I answer emphasizing the pronunciation, “Mand’alor the Ultimate, otherwise known as Tarre Vizsla was the last recorded Mando’ade Jetiise. Are you here on a force mission or a senate mission?”
“Pass. Have you been tested for force sensitivity?”
“You can’t keep passing! Ugh, fine. No, I haven’t, but I’m not.” I chew my lip and think. “How do you feel about changing to future?”
Tholme chews a bite of meat slowly as he thinks. “I think that you need to be careful. Just because you change something, doesn’t mean the change is for the better. The repercussions from a single small act can be catastrophic.”
“By that logic I should lock myself in a room and never do a single thing for the rest of my life. Sure, everything we do invites change, but just because something we do goes wrong doesn’t mean we should give up.”
“Why do you feel so strongly about this?” Tholme asks softly.
Throwing caution to the wind I say the one thing I probably shouldn’t. “I have seen the fall of both our people, and I am determined to save mine. I don’t know if yours wants to be saved.”
With that I clamber out of my chair and dash upstairs. My frustration comes out through tears, and I rush to my room locking the door behind me. I’m not supposed to, but I don’t want to see anyone.
I don’t know what I had been expecting. It seemed as though all the Jedi felt the same way about future visions. Too frozen with the fear of what could go wrong to do anything that could actually be helpful or useful.
-
I wake up an hour or so later, having somehow fallen asleep. There’s a knock on the door and I quickly get up to unlock and open it, not wanting to get in trouble for locking it in the first place.
Shlin’buir is standing there with fruit slices and a sad smile. “Do you want to join us for a snack and a chat?”
Despite not wanting that at all right now I nod and follow them to the table in our personal kitchen. I take my seat and look at my buire wondering which thing they want to talk about. There’d been so much that’d happened in the last couple of days it could be anything.
“So,” Shlin’buir says as they take their seat and set the fruit in front of me. “Xen told us what you told them at mid-meal and we had some more questions.”
“Do you have other powers?” Co’buir blurts out.
I laugh at the reprimanding looks Xen’buir and Shlin’buir toss at him for his outburst.
“I don’t, I tried to move things like a Jetii but nothing happened. Sometimes I can tell when people are lying, but I don’t know if that’s a power.”
Xen’buir nods like that confirms something for them.
Shlin’buir glances at the others before looking at me and asking nervously, “Was there a reason you encouraged me to reach out to my birth clan?”
I tilt my head one way, then the other and decide to give a partial answer. “Part of it was because I wanted to figure out where we are in the events that will happen.”
“What’s the other part?” Xen asks as they lean back and cross their arms.
I shrug, “It will happen, or it won’t. I won’t know more unless I learn more.” Which is true. I don’t know how old Tor is, or if Shlin’buir will even be considered a candidate for alor anymore.
“You’re hiding something.” Xen says seemingly unimpressed by my answer.
“I’m hiding a lot of thigs, but I hope they won’t matter. I’ll let you know if I need help though.”
They sit with that, seemingly having a silent conversation with each other before coming to a mutual agreement.
Shlin’buir sighs, “The current Vizsla’alor wants to meet you. Since you just started classes, I told him we won’t make a trip to Manda’yaim until winter break, so we compromised. We’ll have a holo call with him after classes tomorrow, if you want to meet him.”
“What’s his name?”
“Vex, but he’ll want you to call him ba’buir. He has the whole clan call him ba’buir.”
I’m just relieved it’s not Tor already.
-