Saga Never Tell Me the Odds| Kessel Run 2023

Posting this so I can get it in under the wire; will do responses ASAP

Week 4
Title: The Mandalorian Girl
Genre: Action, AU
Characters: Ezra Bridger, Sabine Wren, Aliza Bridger (OC)
Timeframe: OT, 5 BBY
Synopsis: In an alternate universe in which his parents were not arrested by the Empire, Ezra Bridger and his younger sister Aliza encounter a Mandalorian girl in the marketplace.

Notes: This is a follow-up to my story “Sometimes I Just Know”, in which Ezra is a regular kid on Lothal, and has a younger sister, seven-year-old Aliza, who confesses that sometimes she “just knows” things before they happen. One of the things she just knows is that the blue-and-orange-haired Mandalorian girl she spotted in the marketplace wants to meet Ezra after finding the anti-Imperial flyers he’s been secretly making and distributing.

Thanks to @Findswoman for beta reading
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Ezra had almost forgotten about Aliza’s “Mandalorian girl”. He had more immediate concerns: his report on Lothal’s agricultural products was due on Primeday and he had to figure out what else he could possibly say about jogan fruit. Grav ball tryouts were next week, and it looked like he was going to have some real competition for center this year. And it was Taungsday, market day, and going to the market with Aliza took twice as long as going by himself. She was friends with all the shopkeepers and had to visit each one, even if they didn’t need anything at that particular stand.

She was in the middle of a lengthy conversation with the green grocer about the virtues of zoochberries, when Ezra got the Feeling, that tingle in the back of his mind that meant Something Was Going to Happen.

At the same time, Aliza broke off and tugged at his sleeve. “It’s her, Ezzie!” she said, pointing across the square. “The mandolin--Mandalorian girl!”

Aliza called any female younger than their mother a “girl”, so Ezra never would have considered that his sister’s “Mandalorian girl” would be his age; he also would never have imagined that she’d be beautiful. Her hair, as Aliza had mentioned, had been dyed deep blue with bright orange tips, but Ezra thought it kind of worked for her, as did her fuchsia and orange paint-splattered armor.

She loitered next to one of the recruitment posters for the Imperial Academy that had sprung up around the marketplace lately. As Ezra watched, she glanced casually up and down the street, slapped a gloved hand twice against her left thigh, and reached down with her right hand to draw something from her holster.

Ezra tensed, every story he’d ever heard about bloodthirsty Mando mercs suddenly coming back to him, but it wasn’t a blaster in her hand. It was a paint sprayer; the girl turned, and with a smile started defacing the poster by painting tall, striped ears on the stormtrooper’s helmet, followed by a toothy Loth-cat grin.

Another prickly feeling crawled up the back of Ezra’s neck just before his chrono buzzed. Fifteen hundred; the bucket-head patrol was going to come through here any minute.

Which meant they were going to see the Mandalorian girl gleefully repainting the poster of Lothal’s finest as the Galaxy’s goofiest Loth-cat.

He didn’t know why he did it. He didn’t know the girl; for all he knew, she was some kind of vandalizing juvenile delinquent and nothing but trouble. All he knew was that he was not going to let her get caught by the bucket brigade. He sprang towards her and grabbed her free hand, pulling her towards the nearest side street. “Come on!”

“What are you doing?” the girl hissed, dark-lashed eyes suddenly glaring vibro-shivs at him. She yanked back against his grip, but Ezra, fueled by a burst of adrenaline and the certainty that he had to get her away or Bad Things were going to happen, pulled her after him.

“Ezzie, the troopers, they’re coming!” Aliza sprinted up alongside him, clutching her bag of zoochberries.

“Oh, shavit! Sorry…” Ezra felt a twinge of conscience that he hadn’t spared a thought for her when he’d bolted into action to rescue the Mandalorian girl. He glanced up the narrow lane. If it were just him and the Mando girl, they might be able to make a run for it. They could probably even climb one of the stacks of packing crates that were always piled in the alleys and hide up on the roofs. It didn’t sound easy, but properly motivated, Ezra bet he could do it. Aliza, on the other hand--she might have a Loth-kitten’s knack for getting into things she wasn’t supposed to, but it was still a kitten’s knack and some of the crates were nearly as large as she was.

That gave Ezra an idea. He ducked into the first alleyway they came to and pushed the Mandalorian girl behind a stack of crates labeled “Westlands’ Finest Jogans”. “Quick, hide back here,” he told her. “We’ll cover for you!”

“Who--”

“Shh! Stay down!” Ezra pushed her head back down just before three white-clad stormies jogged around the corner, rifles drawn.

“What are you kids doing?” the captain demanded.

“Looking for my sister’s Loth-cat, sir,” Ezra said, putting on his most innocent, I-am-a-good-Imperial-citizen expression. “She’s got spots and she’s about…

The stormtrooper grunted dismissively. “Did a Mandalorian just run past here?”

“The one with the blue hair? Yeah, she went that way.” Ezra pointed down the side street. The trooper captain motioned to his men and they jogged off in pursuit of their elusive quarry.

A few moments later, once the plasteel footfalls had died away, the girl emerged from her hiding place, shaking herself like a Loth-cat that had smelled something distasteful and fluffing her blue-and-orange hair. “Ugh! Well, that was just great!”

Ugh? Ezra had put himself at risk for her and all he got was “ugh”? Maybe she wasn’t so pretty after all. “Umm…you could try saying ‘thank you’.”

“Thank you?!” She stared at him like he’d asked her if she’d like a dead giju on a stick. “For what?!”

“For saving you from the bucket-heads!”

“I didn’t need saving! I had everything under control!”

“Um, excuse me, hi.” Aliza stepped between the two of them and tapped at the Mandalorian girl’s wrist guard. She blinked like she’d just noticed Aliza there. “Ezzie’s the one you’re looking for,” Aliza said. “The one who made the flyers. See?” Before he could protest, Aliza pulled one of his latest batch of anti-Imperial flyers from Ezra’s satchel and handed it to the Mando girl. Her eyes widened as she read it.

Suddenly the girl’s commlink buzzed. “Spectre Five, come in,” came a deep, masculine voice. “What’s going on?”

The girl—Spectre Five—looked at Ezra over the flimsi, and replied, “I read you, Spectre One. I’ve got a bit of a…situation here.”
+++

I apologize for the cliffhanger; the story was exactly 1000 words Hopefully, I can pick up the thread in another entry!

 

Lol! Everyone needs a good mandolin girl. And I enjoy a good cliffhanger. Keep 'em coming.

 

great action and a cliffie that needs more

 

Ah, I can picture the sweet concern radiating off the lad ...

 

Oh, I certainly hope you'll pick up the thread in another story, because I went and read "Sometimes I Just Know", and now I read this, and while I have a pretty good guess as to what to expect for Ezra's future in this timeline, I really, really want to hear more about Aliza. She's just the epitome of the cute-yet-infuriating baby sister, and I'd like to see I-had-everything-under-control Sabine trying to handle her

 

The way Kaz originally made the cereal sounds delicious and cute! Tori is a darling although being reminded that's not how Mommy does it probably is enough to make Kaz feel frazzled ... Love how he was able to entertain Tori with pilot-centered games and a nap-inducing story
I definitely admire those who are smokin' awesome at sports, specifically hoops.

 

Darth Real Life has thrown a lot of stuff at me in the past few weeks, notably that I’ve started homeschooling my daughter. He and his attendant minion, Darth Anxiety, are a couple of real schuttas, so I haven’t been able to do proper responses like I wanted to. But I did want to take a moment to thank @earlybird-obi-wan , @Gabri_Jade , @pronker , @Vek Talis , @Findswoman , @Mira_Jade , @WarmNyota_SweetAyesha and @Chyntuck for your very thoughtful comments. I truly do appreciate that you took the time comment and that you are enjoying these stories. Thank you all!
———

Week Five
Title: Purpose
Characters: Zeb Orrelios, Kanan Jarrus, Hera Syndulla
Timeframe: OT, sometime before 14 BBY
Synopsis: Soon after he joins the Ghost crew, Kanan and Hera have a heart-to-heart with Zeb about his self-destructive brawling.

Thank you to @Findswoman for beta-reading

Juggernaut

Zeb was a juggernaut, an unstoppable purple force, bashing his way through the squad of troopers even when he was far outnumbered. It was a pastime he excelled at and to all appearances, one he enjoyed.

In the weeks since Kanan and Hera had pulled him unconscious from the wreckage of Lasan’s royal palace, Zeb’s mood cycled from morose silence to angry outbursts and back again. He only seemed to take a sort of grim pleasure in brawling with as many stormtroopers as possible. And if he hadn’t gotten to thump a sufficient number of them in the course of a mission-- sometimes even if he had-- they’d find him at the nearest cantina, heckling off-duty troopers, trying to goad them into fights. Zeb’s pugnacious tendencies were getting to be a problem; more than once, they’d had to scrap their mission because of Zeb’s nightly melees. His reputation was beginning to precede them, and they couldn’t afford the attention.

Perhaps more concerning was the way Zeb disregarded his own safety when he started brawling. It was pure luck that he hadn’t been shot yet, and Kanan wasn’t so sure that that wasn’t what he was trying to accomplish, consciously or not.


Shepherd

Hera shepherded Zeb into the Ghost’s common area after his latest set-to, medkit in hand. There was a deep gash across his left brow-ridge, and his eye was turning a deeper shade of purple where one particularly tenacious stormtrooper had landed a blow with the butt of his rifle. She opened the kit and sighed, “Zeb, you can’t keep doing this. One of these days, you’re going to get yourself killed trying to find out how many troopers you can take on single-handedly.”

Zeb winced as she dabbed antiseptic gel onto the cut and plastered a batca patch over it. “Maybe,” he grunted, “but I’ll take a few of ’em with me before they do.”

“Is that all you want to do with your life?" Hera asked, peering into his face. “Go out in a blaze of glory?”

“What else is left for me?” He pulled away from her ministrations, crossing his arms tightly over his chest and staring sullenly down at his foot. “Everyone I know and love is dead.” His voice thickened, dropping another octave. “I shoulda died, too.”

“But you lived,” Hera told him gently. “And you now have a choice what you do with that life.”

Undertaker

“Easy for you to say. You don’t know what it’s like, losing everything. You saw what the Empire did on Lasan…they killed everyone… And most of ’em… the disruptors didn’t even leave enough for the undertakers, assumin’ there were any left to do the burial rites. You don’t know what that’s like!” Zeb shouted, slamming his fist down on the dejarik table.

Without saying a word, Kanan pulled something from the back of his belt and unclipped an object from near his holster. He assembled the two pieces and laid a metallic cylinder about a half-meter long on the table near Zeb.

Zeb’s eyes grew large; he shook his head, muttering, “Aww, karabast, you’re a Jedi…and I’m a karkin’ idiot, sayin’--”

“You’re not an idiot,” Kanan answered. “You’re right; I can’t understand exactly how you feel. But I can tell you, after I lost my master, I spent a long time just existing. It was only when I found a purpose again that I finally felt like myself. Hera and I would like to help you with that, if you want.”

Zeb was silent a moment, then unslung his bo-rifle and laid it next to Kanan’s lightsaber. “Yeah…yeah, I’m in.”
+++

 

Glad to see Zeb has found a new purpose. Cracking stormtroopers open with your head only gets you so far in life... and then gets you a major headache after that. I should know...

 

fighting stormtoopers isn't bad but it can cost you your life. Great that Kanan rescues Zeb and shows him that there is a future

 

You know, Zeb reminds me of Obélix in the Astérix comics, with their shared love for beating up legionaries/stormtroopers, and I thought that this was a great backstory to flesh out not so much how he joined the Spectres, but how he committed to the cause. Under his gruff, brawlish exterior there's a heart of gold, and all it took was a bit of prodding in the right direction for him to see that he could do more for himself but also in memory of his people and for the galaxy at large.

 

Survivor's guilt unites them, with Kanan and Hera leading the way to some sort of balance. Good observations.

 

As satisfying as it is for him to bash the bucketheads, by working with Kanan and Hera, Zeb has a chance to hit the Empire where it really hurts...and bash plenty of stormies along the way. It's a win-win!

Zeb really is a lot more than just the muscle of the crew. It's understandably hard for him to envision any kind of future at this point, but it helps for him to realize that he's not as alone as he thinks he is. Kanan's experience is similar enough to Zeb's that he can empathize and guide Zeb to the realization that he can do more than just take out random troopers until they finally take him down.

I think it would be almost impossible to go through what happened to Zeb and not feel some sort of survivor's guilt. But (sadly) there are others in the Galaxy who have also been through similar things. Kanan, too, has lost everything he knew and loved, and can use his experiences to help Zeb.

Thank you! I've wanted to continue this particular AU for a while and this was a fun opportunity to do it. You know, I hadn't given a lot of thought to how Sabine and Aliza would interact in this 'verse, but now that you and @Chyntuck mention it, I bet she would throw Sabine for a bit of a loop. Sabine can be a bit prickly and dramatic at this point in her life. I can see Aliza being very interested in this Mandolin Girl, but Sabine being slightly less enthralled with the prospect of working with Miss Fluffy Loth-kitten! (And her protective older brother, but that's another issue )

Thank you! That means a lot coming from the undisputed queen of all things purple and stripy You know, I kind of envisioned Zeb trying to "commit suicide by trooper", for lack of a better term, at least on a subconscious level. He's overwhelmed by grief and guilt, and all he can see for himself is taking as many Imperials as he can with him. Fortunately he has Hera to remind him that he does have other choices, and Kanan to show him that he's not alone. He understands what it's like to lose everything, even if he hasn't experienced the full horror of what happened to Zeb on Lasan. And thank you for suggesting that Zeb lay his own weapon by Kanan's lightsaber, because you're right that it is truly a warrior's pledge and very Zeb. Thanks for your support and understanding throughout this challenge!

 

Week Six
Title: Mando-limerick
Characters: Din Djarin (Mando)
Timeframe: OT, ca. 10 ABY
Genre: poem, humor
Synopsis: It is what it says on the tin.

Thanks to @Findswoman for beta-ing!
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Mando-limerick

There once was a Mando named Din
Whose apparel was all made of tin.
It stayed on night and day,
Because that was the way.
So none knew what he looked like within.

 

Great to speculate and put whoever you wish inside there ... *recalls the heyday of Fabio and the way the oodles of hair would spill when the helmet finally did come off* Long live limericks!

 

Fun poem. No one knows what's inside the tin

 

As the proud author of the Wookiee version of the Cuppycake Song, I think you should be absolutely proud of your Mando-Limerick which I found both smart and fun

Here's hoping that DRL goes on holiday soon

 

I’m thinking of Omera on The Mandalorian now, wondering if she pictured long, luscious locks spilling out of Din’s helmet—would she have been disappointed if she’d actually seen the face beneath it? Hmmm….

You know, I hadn’t thought of that aspect of off when I wrote the synopsis! I guess maybe it’s not what’s on the tin that counts! Glad you enjoyed this little bit of silliness!

Thanks! I had fun writing it, short as it is, and DRL relented slightly, at least enough for me to write a real entry for this week.

 

Week 7

Title: Sister Time
Genre: Fluff
Characters: Bellona Ordo (OC), Wren Ordo (OC)
Timeframe: OT, ca. 20 ABY
Synopsis: Wren and Bellona Ordo spend sister time together, whether they want to or not

Thanks to @Findswoman for beta reading
————
The last Taungsday of the month was “sister time” at the Ordo Stronghold, the day when Bellona and Wren did something fun together, whether they wanted to or not. It was Mom’s way of getting them to spend more time together, since their interests lay in totally different areas, and otherwise Bellona would spend all day in the art studio while Wren played mesh’geroya and climbed trees. Some sister times were more successful than others; both girls had thoroughly enjoyed watching the holo-cast of the Galactic Cup limmie finals, while Wren had fallen asleep halfway through “Dance Across the Galaxy” and had to be woken up when the company finally reached their performance of selections from Dha Werda Verda.

Still, Bellona tried to be a good sport about sister time. She was twelve, practically an adult by Mandalorian custom, so she had to set a good example for Wren. If she kept suggesting things like dance recitals and art exhibitions, Wren would eventually develop some culture, right? She was just eight, so there was still time for her to mature into someone with an appreciation of the arts.

But today, it seemed like Wren was only interested in doing silly kid stuff. “You want to sleep in a tree?”

“In my treehouse,” Wren corrected her, her arms crossed over her chest stubbornly. “There’s a big difference. Mom and Dad won’t won’t let me stay out all night by myself, but if it’s for sister time, I bet they’ll say yes.”

Bellona tried very hard not to cross her own arms over her chest. She figured there were probably some good reasons for their parents to not want Wren sleeping in a tree like her avian namesake. How safe could it be, for one thing? Wren had built the treehouse herself, so it was probably only by the grace of the Ka’ra that the whole thing hadn’t collapsed with her in it yet. And…there were bugs in trees. Bellona was just fine with bugs, provided they stayed where they were supposed to. But sleeping in a tree where they could just drop on her…nayc, ori’vor’e!

“Anyway,” Wren continued. “You picked last time, and we had to paint pottery!” Clearly this was an activity that ranked right up there with dental cleaning in terms of fun, as far as Wren was concerned.

“We did that for Mom’s birthday!” Bellona made a vase with vormur blossom to give her, while Wren had painted a shatual figurine. It turned out a little blotchy, with crossed eyes and a goofy smile, but Mom had seemed to like it anyway.

“It was still your idea, and that means it’s my turn to decide!”

“Oh, all right,” Bellona sighed. Wren could be so impossible sometimes, but she, Bellona, was too mature to be drawn into childish arguments. Especially when she knew that if Wren called on their parents to decide, they’d agree with Wren. No point in fighting a battle she couldn’t win.

She’d make sure to take some extra insect repellent, though.
——
Predictably, Mom and Dad thought Wren’s sleepover idea was marvelous. Mom even made a fresh batch of uj’alayi and a carafe of behot tea for them to pack in their birgaane along with their bedrolls. Thus prepared, they set out across the yard to the enormous galek tree that stood at the border of the lawn proper and the woods beyond.

Up close, the treehouse was bigger and better constructed than Bellona had expected. “You did all this yourself?”

Wren paused on a branch midway to the treehouse; she’d scrambled up there like a squirrel despite her bulky backpack. “Well, Dad helped me plan it out and get all the stuff up there, but I did all the building. Don’t worry, Dad checked to make sure there were no nails sticking up or anything.”

“Oh, I…wasn’t worried.”

The climb up was more difficult than Wren made it look. It had been a while since Bellona had climbed a tree, and never with a backpack to compensate for, but she made it up without incident. If the treehouse looked impressive from the ground it was more so once she was inside. It didn’t have a door, but there was a canvas curtain (one of Mom’s old drop cloths, from the paint splatters) on a rod across the entrance, and similar curtains over the windows, tied back with twine. There was a rug on the floor, the one their cousin Octavian had spilled a pitcher of blumfruit juice on, and a pile of pillows in the corner, leftovers from when Mom had reupholstered the sofa.

“This is…nice,” Bellona said. She’d expected something a lot more…basic. Ramshackle, even, but Wren had actually made the treehouse into a cozy little space.

Wren blinked at her for a minute. “Vor’e,” she said at last. “So, we should probably get our bedrolls set up, and then the uj’ cake and shig, and….” She pulled a face, wriggling her fingers like claws. “....scary stories! Muhuhahaha!”

“You’re on!”
-----
After the cake and shig were gone, and after several rounds of stories that ranged from scary to just plain silly, the sisters finally laid down. The galek’s leaves rustled gently, and Bellona had just closed her eyes when something landed on her nose. She yelped and shot up, frantically swiping at it. The offending insect flew off, blinking like a tiny star. “Oh! A glimmer-fly!”

“Hmm?” Wren sat up. “Oh, yeah. Look.” She pulled aside one of the windows’ curtains to show a veritable galaxy of glimmer-flies dancing and sparkling over the Stronghold lawn.

“Wow…” The sisters sat watching the glimmer-flies, as Bellona tried to decide what medium would be best for capturing the image. A mosaic? Pastels? Water colors? “Hey, vod’ika, this would make a great mural for your treehouse, y’know, if you wanted…”

“Yeah, I would!” Wren smiled, leaning against Bellona’s shoulder. “Thanks, Bell. Best sisters’ time ever.”

And Bellona was not too mature to admit that it actually was.
+++

Notes:

Mando’a terms
Dha Werda Verda: Mandalorian epic poem, with accompanying dance. The title translates as “The Shadow Warriors”.
Nayc, ori’vor’e: No, thank you very much
Shatual: Mandalorian creature rather like a deer
Uj’alayi: a dense cake with fruit and nuts, topped with sweet syrup
Birgaane: backpacks
Vod’ika: little sister

 

This is wonderful! I liked the progression of grump-to-almost-agreeable-to-hey, neat!

Surprised, Bellona is.

Aw, more bonding. I'll bet they watch the glittery things for hours.

 

a beautiful scenery and staying in a tree-house. That sure is fun for the girls. Sweet response to the challenge

 

Wonderful @Raissa Baiard

I wonder if Bellona will realize that in growing up, she's also losing the childlike wonder - and trying to squash it in her sister? I couldn't help noticing that it had been a while since she climbed a tree and thought she was so much more mature for wanting to do pottery than sleep in a treehouse.

Good response to the challenge.

 

This was really a great little story, with Bellona realising that her little sister's hobbies may not be quite that bad, even if she's small and immature whereas Bellona is grown-up and serious and all about culture. The best bit though was when she realised the connection between their hobbies at the sight of the glimmer-flies. Best sister-time ever indeed!