Chapter Text
They corner him in a field, he was stupid. Of course they’d use herding techniques, he’s done the same for crowd control and criminal retrieval with his own squadrons.
His mind is scrambling to process from his long faded memories of history in this time. All he can remember is knowing the Mandalorian's (who he is not one of, despite his genetics) were all bloodthirsty and prone to infighting. There was the pacifist government in the war that got glassed to hell and slaughtered the first year of the empire and had been neutral democratic rulers for almost 10 years before the empire. Before that he barely remembers hearing of a civil war on the planet and the sector, and from what he knows the two factions were not much different. One fighting for money (honor and loyalty Boba used to repeat, saying he learned it from Prime, what a load of bantha-), the other for a return to violent conquest and killed indiscriminately. Honestly, same shit different latrines to Fox.
Either way, Fox wants nothing to do with any Mando’s, pacifist, mercenary, or cultist crusaders otherwise. He didn’t believe in any of their bullshit besides maybe armour is a good idea for everyone. Of which he doesn’t have any, not even his old plastoid.
Objective: Get the hell out of here alive somehow and get off planet and away from anywhere the Mandalorians might be.
Honestly he should just find the Jedi order and beg them to take him, he knows they ran orphanages and free schools on Coruscant before they were all drafted, maybe he can bide his time in one until he’s big enough to kill Palpatine.
Honestly was the best plan he had, and not dying here would be the start.
The Mando’s are clearly finishing talking with themselves as one raises a hand up and the others halt their herding of him. He’s trapped in an open field and they have their blasters raised.
The Mandalorian in front pauses, assessing Fox, and clearly finding him not a threat, the bastard, powers down his blaster, holstering it at his hip. The others follow suit, save one large blue fucker that lags behind the others.
Well fuck it, this is not what he had planned. At least he’s not getting shot at.
Status: Still fucking alive.
Objective: Get the fuck away from the Mandalorians and get the hell off planet NOW.
“Hey, ade, can you hear me?” The Mando calls softly through the vocoder in their helmet.
“Loud and clear asshole.” Fox bites out. The Mando seems to laugh from the small huff through the electronics and the slight shake of their shoulders. The other Mando’s seem to relax at the attitude, good, he can run away if they’re off guard.
“Are you okay, ade?” They ask.
Fox huffs, “Peachy save the fact you assholes started chasing me like an animal.” The others seem to tense a bit at that.
“Ni ceta, ade- Uh, sorry. We were startled, and didn't realize you were a kid.” The Mando pauses and looks him up and down. “What were you doing, hiding in the alley ade, are you okay? Do you need help?” His voice was concerned through the vocoder.
Fox scoffs internally, “I’m fine, and I don’t need help from a Mandalorian.” The others shift, both him knowing what they are and clearly they don’t believe him saying he’s fine. Fox recalls once about a Mandalorian creed some of the trainers said they followed, something about not hurting kids. A load of bantha from his own experience. Mando’s could not be trusted.
“Hey, we're not detaining you, and we aren’t going to hurt you. Haat, Ijaa, Haa’it. We just want to know if you're okay and what you're doing here.” The Mandalorian in front asks.
Fox swallows, breathing slowly through his nose to calm down, racking his brains for what he remembers from Prime's life. The date was far before Galidraan happened, that he knows, so the tensions between Jedi and Mandalorian's shouldn't be too bad. It also means whoever Prime was part of, the mercenary group, the faction that got killed, are still alive and the neo-crusader terrorist wannabes or the armor-less pacifist ones weren't in power, yet. A stupid thought crosses his mind, maybe he could ask them to transport him to the next major planetary port, then he can figure out how to get to Naboo or Coruscant from here.
“I’m not lost, I’m just passing through. I’m trying to get to the Core, but got stranded here by my transport. Kinda not sure where here is either, they were pretty shady.” He lies.
The Mando nods, seeming to buy it, but he can’t tell what they’re thinking or feeling through the beskar.
“Where specifically were you headed? We are in the inner rim, near the Korda System, the planet we are on is called Korvus 2.”
Fox hesitates only for a moment.
“Coruscant.”
The Mando lets out a whistle that sounds shrill through the vocoder, “Your pretty far out still kid, that's way in the Core, closest hyperlane there is Onoderon, and it's still about two days to Coruscant from there. Onoderon is still half a day's travel from here by hyperlane.”
Fox feels himself deflate a little.
Status: Inner rim, Korvus 2, near Korda system.
Objective: Get to Onoderon?
“Know where the closest port is then?” Fox asks.
“Well how bout you tell me first if you have an adult with you to travel with?” They sound tired. Fox just scoffs.
The Mando sighs, “at least got a name, ade?” They ask.
He reaches up to ensure his gaiter is still fitted correctly over his face, and that his hood was still in place.
"My name is Fox," he flounders for a moment. Trying desperately to think of a last name. He blurts out the first one that pops into his head. "Kenobi."
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
Curse the fucking Chancellor always yelling about Kenobi in his office, curse fucking Vader for always yelling about Kenobi period. And also Cody for always moaning about him on their 79 nights before-
Fuck.
It could be worse. He could have blurted out Skywalker. There was no way he was going to pretend to be related to that fucker.
The armored Mandalorian standing in front of him tilts their head curiously. "Fox Kenobi?"
Fox scowls. He may be a cadet again but he wasn't about to take anyone's shit. If that means he has to defend Kenobi's name then he'll do it. "Yeah. What of it?"
The Mando raises their hands in a universal gesture of peace and shakes their head. "No offense meant ade. I just wasn't expecting to meet a Kenobi who still lived."
What the actual fuck did that mean? Were Kenobi's fucking cursed to die? If so, General Kenobi certainly got the opposite sort of curse. Nothing could kill that man. Not even a battalion of heavily trained meat droids whose sole purpose was to kill the Jedi.
He shoves those thoughts ruthlessly aside. He'll deal with them fucking never.
Regardless. Fox needed a backstory. He needed to find someone who could help him figure out what the fuck happened to him. This was clearly some Force bullshit. Which meant Jedi. And he'd just claimed Kenobi as family.
‘How old was Kenobi now?’
Fuck it, it didn't matter.
"Yeah well… I'm adopted. I ran away a while ago. My brother,"
‘What was that sad backstory Cody had sniffled about while drunk?’
"-Was nearly drowned by our parents, but a Jedi saved him and took him with them. I'm going to Coruscant to see him."
Right. Parents drowning their baby. That's why this Mando is surprised to see a living Kenobi. Also probably not the best idea to bring up Jedi in front of Mandalorian's, well, Fox never claimed to be smart.
‘Shit, maybe they are cursed to die and Kenobi was just really good at avoiding it. It would explain why everything was always trying to kill him.’
The Mando shifts uncomfortably.
"I don't think they'll allow you to see him. If they stole him away I don't expect they would allow an outsider, especially a family member, to see him."
Fox bristles.
"Steal him?" He hisses.
Great now he was going to defend the fucking Jedi. He was already pushing it with a Jedi brother.
"Jedi don't fucking steal kids. They rescued him. Should they have given him back to our parents so they could try to kill him again? " He nearly shouts, getting genuinely riled up.
Memories of the Cuy'val Dar judging and marking his brothers for decommissioning for the smallest infractions bubbling to the surface.
"It's really funny that you like to call the Jedi child stealers, have you forgotten your own history, Mandalorian? You have no room to throw stones."
"What do you know?" Another Mandalorian sneers in Mando'a.
It was the big one that had holstered their blaster last, hand still hovering over the weapon in fact. Their armor was blue, decorated with touches of black, gold and green. The air around them seemed to swirl menacingly and Fox wasn’t going to question it, this one was bad news.
He also had what Fox recognized as two tiny Padawan braids attached to his belt.
Fucking hell.
They didn't wear any Death Watch symbols that he remembered, but they were clearly skirting the line. Remember it was either the side fighting for money or total destruction. He should be careful, yet he can’t help the anger bubbling up in him. He’d always had an issue with running his mouth.
Until Coruscant. Until Palpatine. Until the chips.
"More than you think, you ill-mannered asshole." Fox snaps back in the same language. Glad for once that Alpha-017 had made them learn the language. Though he'd framed it as being able to shit talk the natborn's off Kamino without them understanding. He refrains from calling the man what he truly is.
Demagolka.
That kind of thing is likely to get him shot by the man, regardless of if he's currently a child.
The Mandalorian's tense. Fox doesn't understand why. Maybe they've finally gotten fed up with his attitude. He wonders if he should run now or wait another moment. Either way he shifts on his feet just in case.
The lead Mando, hands still raised, takes a knee. "You're Mando'ad?"
Now that is a difficult and complicated question. Bringing up memories he would rather not be thinking about in a situation like this.
"It has been made very clear to me that I am not." He bites out.
It had been beaten, sometimes literally, into all of his brothers that they were nothing but livestock. No matter how hard the Jedi tried to give them freedom. Right up until the end.
Several Mando’s growl and curse. He can feel the pity wafting of quite a few of them.
Fox scowls harder. "Any people who would condemn the Jedi as child stealers for saving a child and not giving them back to murderous parents are not a people I want to be part of." He spits.
"Who knows, maybe you think it's better to cull those who are born with the power of your ancient enemy. Better they die than be raised in a place that teaches them to be compassionate and to use their powers safely, right?"
Because as much as Fox disliked many Jedi, even he understood that they were just as forced to be what the Senate wanted as the clones had been. He'd heard stories from the people of the lower levels of Coruscant of what the Jedi were like before the war forced them to be Generals.
Several of the armored assholes rear back as if he's hit them.
"We would never!" One snarls.
Fox scoffs. "You certainly act like it."
The lead Mando sighs. Reaching up he removes his helmet. The man underneath is Pantoran. Pastel purple skin with golden cheek markings that remind him, in a way that ached painfully, of Bly. Fox felt heat behind his eyes and grit his teeth to keep his emotions under control.
He wasn't going to fucking cry in front of these bastards.
"Mandalore has a long memory." The man says. "So long that we act without thinking sometimes. We would not hurt a child. That is not The Way."
Fox grinds his teeth, this was really bringing up bad memories he’d rather keep shut up and never even touch.
"Not the way until it is. Until you find a way to excuse it. Not the way until your code gets between you and revenge."
Jango Fett had been Mandalorian. Had apparently had a code that forbade hurting children, hell he heard from the Alpha’s there had even been a whole book on it, some sort of commando codex, or something. A code he threw away entirely for revenge. Millions of his children, used and abused to the Sith’s end.
"Don't try to pander to me. I know exactly what a Mandalorian would do. Or do you think I’m so young and blind I wouldn't recognize a Padawan braid." He jabbed a finger at the blue armored man, the one that had sneered at him in Mando'a.
"You know the smaller the braid the younger they are. The child you cut that off of must have been 12 at the most and you wouldn't have gotten it without a fight. Those are sacred." He spit.
The Pantorans face goes a shade paler.
The shift of the group is immediate.
Several Mando’s pull their blasters on the man with the braids.
The man, tense and agitated, hisses. "These are Wookie braids, collected from bounties." It’s still a terrible fucking thing to have, but mildly better than admitting he’d hurt or killed kids for them.
"My brother is a Jedi. You think I wouldn't know the difference?" Fox snorts. "If they did a test on one of the strands would it come back Wookie or come back humanoid? Or perhaps you found a loophole. Maybe it was a Wookie Padawan." He rolls his eyes.
"The beads give it away. The starter bead, it's always made of the same thing, has the order symbol carved into it. Then the pattern of where they're placed. Followed by how it's tied off with fabric specific to the Jedi Agricorps."
The Guard had been visited by several curious Padawans during the war. All wanting to get to know them and be friends. One had been giving lessons on Jedi culture every visit until they died while on campaign. Those lessons had stuck with Fox, little trivia he'd tucked away to honor the Commander’s memory.
Fox can't feel much through all the Beskar but he knows that the Mando is tipping into dangerously angry territory. The Pantoran is tipping quickly into horror and revulsion.
Quick as lightning the Pantoran pulls his blaster, spins at his waist while still crouched, and stuns the other man before he can react. The action startles Fox, his own hand reaching for a blaster that isn't there.
"Kerl, Mai-k, take Montross back to the ship and strip him. I want him in the brig. If the Mand'alor asks, tell him I ordered it on suspicion of the murder of ad’e." The Pantoran orders as he stands. He turns back to Fox.
"We will do as you suggest and test the braids. In the meantime would you join us back in our camp? You stated when we met that you were stranded here. I would offer you passage to Coruscant, even if I must take you there myself."
Fox looked between the Pantoran and the stunned man, Montross, who was being dragged away.
He honestly hadn't expected them to believe him or take his side. He figured they'd get annoyed enough to fuck off and leave him alone instead of trying to coax him like a feral loth cat.
"Who even are you?" Fox blurts out.
The man freezes for a moment before a laugh breaks free. "Shit. I forgot. Sorry, ade. I'm Myles of Clan Ordo of House Mereel. Second in command to Jango Fett. Who is the heir to Mand'alor Jaster Mereel."
Fox feels sick.
There was no fucking way he got sent back in time just to be stuck dealing with his fucking genetic template.
Fuck no.
Sitrep!
Status: I might be fucked.
Objective: He was getting to the Jedi as soon as fucking possible.