Echoy - Chapter 1: Eyaytir
Eyaytir - to flee or escape
The first thing I noticed was the noise. Very few things made the sounds I was hearing and only one of those things would be loud enough to be heard inside my apartment. More confused than frightened, I set down the datapad I had been scrolling through and picked up the little Mandalorian rishak wildcat figurine my husband Jaing had given me – it was his first gift to me, something small to remind me of him while he was gone, and I had taken to carrying it around my apartment with me while I worked.
He had given me the nickname rishak, or rish’ika, shortly after we met. He had a lot of little pet names for me – rishak (wildcat), jate’kara (good stars or his lucky star), cyare or cyar’ika (beloved), mesh’la (beautiful), Sig’ika(little Sigi, a Mandalorian term of endearment). My favorite, and the most unique, was meshurok. It means gem or jewel – or treasure, as he explained it. He always said I gave him poetry and that he had nothing comparable to give back, but he started the poetry with that unusual Mando’a word, though he didn’t explain the meaning to me until his brother Mereel, my best friend, arranged a night in a hilariously tacky hotel on Gerrenthum as a surprise a couple of months after we met. (And what happens on Gerrenthum stays on Gerrenthum, so don’t ask.) He told me:
“Precious stones are formed through powerful, even mysterious forces, and are found in dark places, either through tireless hunting or… just dumb luck. Jate’kara. They’re made even more beautiful by artistry learned over years of hard work, shaped and cut into many glittering facets. You are beautiful, precious, priceless. My meshur’ika.”
Pure poetry. I, in turn, had my own names for him, many taught to me by my grandmother in her mother tongue: sanadi (my strength), azizi (my treasure), hayati (my life), and the one that I used most, that meant so much to me – ya amar.
It sounds a bit strange translated into Basic, but in Teta’s language, which carries thousands of years of poetry in every word, it’s much more than just a reference to the rocks orbiting planets: We look at the moon to navigate. It lights up the darkness of night. It is a visual reminder of birth, growth, death, and rebirth. He is all of those things to me and more.
Jaing knew everything about me, things I’d never told anyone. He knew my pain, the darkness inside me and how it got there, my fears – rational and otherwise – and even my dreams, to the extent I allowed myself such hope.
He knew my most well-guarded secret, the reason I isolated myself, and he had found a way to help me – a former Jedi who taught me how to control and use the Force safely and effectively.
Jaing made me kotyc – strong, kotep – brave, his verd’ika – little soldier. With him, I was able to do things that would have been terrifyingly impossible on my own. He made me Mandalorian.
Despite the realities of war and combat that he had introduced me to, I couldn’t understand what was going on in the skies above me when I first looked. It made no sense to me – this was Coruscant. Galactic City. The Seps couldn’t possibly be…
A Republic fighter, spiraling, burning, and heading straight for –
It slammed through a massive comms array in the distance, destroying it and sending a brilliant shower of sparks into the air as debris rained down on the walkways below. The entire tower block went dark.
Coruscant was under attack.
Part of my brain froze while the other told me go, go, go – get out now! It took me more time than I’d like to admit to finally stop gaping at the terrifying chaos outside and move. I lived in a high floor of a building on one of the upper levels of the Entertainment District, right by a skylane. One of those ships could very easily hit my place. I needed to get somewhere less exposed, and fast, then find my way to the underground emergency reservoir where I was supposed to rendezvous with Jaing’s family when it came time for us to escape to Mandalore.
It seemed like now might be that time.
First things first – the data.
Before I met my aliit, I had been a… freelance researcher (not that Jaing’s buir Kal ever bought that description) and had accepted a job Kal offered me, one that involved a bit of light treason. I acted as an analyst and targeter for Jaing and his brothers, and had recently begun going through petabytes of highly classified data Jaing had socially engineered access to and then sliced for my analysis.
What we found in that data implicated Chancellor Palpatine in something far worse than we could have imagined.
I couldn’t just leave that lying around to be found by a Republic Intelligence agent like the goon that had been sent after Jaing’s sister-in-law Besany. The discovery of any of it in my possession or anywhere that could possibly lead to a connection back to me and my family was an unacceptable risk. I was decent at operational security – my apartment wasn’t even in my name and no mail for me was ever sent there – but Jaing and his brothers were absolute masters of the game, and they always covered their tracks, left no evidence no matter how remote the possibility of discovery was.
I had to strip that data from my network and wipe the entire system.
I stuffed the data chips into a pocket as they finished printing, hit the killswitch, and moved quickly to my bedroom. My mentor had taught me to always be ready to run, so I kept a large backpack pre-packed with a carefully curated selection of the basics I needed to survive on the run – with lots of extra pockets for energy clips and magazines for my customized Verpine blaster. As I pulled out my gear trunk, my eyes fell on the beskar plates I had worn to marry Jaing. We had promised one another the day we said our vows to wear our beskar’gam in any and every situation that posed any danger.
The matte black armor, trimmed with metallic gold, would keep me safe where I was going. I was a lone woman on the streets in a warzone, but there was little in the galaxy that provided better protection than beskar – even against Jedi lightsabers – and my beloved Jaing’ika spared no expense in having mine crafted.
It didn’t hurt that I also knew how to fight dirty and have always been a damn good shot, especially with my Force sensitivity. At that point, I could and had killed with both blaster and blade. I was anxious, but not about my ability to defend myself.
Properly kitted out, Verp at my hip, I tucked my rishak figure into a utility pouch on my belt and grabbed the little round box that I keep in my nightstand, slipped it into my ruck next to my jewelry – Teta had taught me as a child that precious metals and stones are more than just pretty baubles when you’re on the run, and I didn’t know what the future held.
As I left my bedroom, I glanced in the mirror.
I looked ridiculous in that armor – but properly intimidating.
Something exploded disconcertingly close to my building.
Helmet in place, I grabbed my bag and left my Coruscant terrarium apartment for the last time.
At any other time, a Mandalorian in brand-spanking-new mastercraft beskar’gam walking past the opera house might raise a few eyebrows. During an aerial invasion, however, my presence didn’t attract so much as a second glance. It was sheer chaos.
I knew where I needed to go, even though I hadn’t heard from Jaing yet. He was supposed to be my ride out of here, but he was still way out on the Outer Rim hunting General Grievous, though I suspected his quarry was currently somewhere above the Coruscant atmosphere and responsible for the cataclysm above Galactic City.
Mereel would get me out then. I would comm him as soon as I was clear of the crowd and chaos of the upper levels and on my way down to the underground reservoir.
That was the plan at least, but the downed starfighter had taken out the radio and communications network for the entire neighborhood. I wasn’t going to be able to send or receive comms until I reached somewhere with an intact comms network. Our devices may have been encrypted and invisible to potential eavesdroppers, but they still needed some kind of signal to work.
My nerves were already shot. I had been through more than the average civilian at that point in my life, but I still prayed I would have signal again soon, reciting the words my grandmother had taught me decades ago:With hardship comes ease. Verily, with hardship comes ease. I will never be faced with more than I can bear and there is always an end to the suffering.
I tried not to think of the pilot of the destroyed craft. That man was one of Jaing’s brothers. He had around three million brothers. He didn’t know most of them, and many viewed him and the other “Nulls,” as they were called, with derision. But they were all cloned from the DNA of a notorious Mandalorian bounty hunter named Jango Fett. They were all raised in a sterile, joyless environment, treated like cattle and trained to fight from infancy.
Jaing and his brothers – Ordo, Mereel, Kom’rk, Prudii, and A’den – were the results of the cloners’ early experiments: stronger, faster, smarter, more loyal, and more ruthless than Jango, because the Kaminoan scientists had manipulated the relevant genes. When the boys were only toddlers, after the monsters exposed them to live fire drills and other torment that I can’t allow myself to imagine for fear of my own suppressed rage, the cloners decided the enhanced genetics made the boys, barely more than toddlers at the time, too difficult to manage and deemed them defective.
But for Kal Skirata, another Mandalorian mercenary drafted by Jango to train the cloned army, the boys, dubbed “Null class” by the Kaminoans, would have been exterminated. Fortunately, Kal, for all his many faults, raised those boys to be proper Mandalorian men. He also recruited me to work with his sons, as he saw them, when the Galactic Republic was plunged into the war that seemed to be reaching its zenith above me now.
Highly intelligent, deviant, disturbed, and uncommandable. They were my kind of people.
I had only made it about half a click from my building when I heard the impact. I knew before I turned what I would see. A burning chunk of something had hit my apartment tower about a dozen floors above my apartment. I blinked in shock a few times before I realized everyone around me was screaming and running from the shards of transparisteel and permacrete raining from the sky.
I wasn’t in the mood to test my new armor’s integrity against falling debris just yet. I had to get down a few more levels. I would need to get lower to get to the reservoir anyway, and it was as good a time as any. I had complete faith in the beskar’s ability to withstand the more parochial dangers of the lower levels of the Entertainment District anyway.
I sprinted toward the nearest passage to the lower levels and terrifying uncertainty.
There was no turning back, no going back to my old life now. Ever.
I wasn’t sure how long I’d been moving when I finally noticed the little light in my HUD indicating that I had comm signal again. Though Bardan Jusik, the former Jedi who had been training me, had shown me how to draw on the Force for energy, I was shocked to see that it had been almost an entire day. I had taken a short rest in an abandoned furniture store and had ducked into a couple of public ‘freshers, but it didn’t feel like it could have possibly been that long.
The sky, now many levels above me, was still chaos, the streets, pure mayhem. But I had at least made it to an area that still had comms – assuming the signals weren’t entirely choked by the sheer number of people trying to reach loved ones or being reserved for official communications by first responders and the GAR.
My comlink operated on the Nulls’ private, decentralized pirate communications network and was capable of transmitting encrypted communications over almost any signal. That didn’t matter, though – I couldn’t for the life of me establish a link to Jaing’s freq. He was off planet, and with the battle still raging overhead, the planetary shield was probably closed.
I told myself over and over that it was okay.
I kept moving toward the emergency underwater reservoir, again praying to my grandmother’s god, desperate to find a functioning skylane or speeder train. In a speeder, on a normal day, it would only take a couple of hours at the most to get to the reservoir from my apartment. But this was not a normal day.
I was surprised when I stepped off a turbolift that had dropped me several hundred levels deeper into the city and my HUD indicated an improved signal.
I was less surprised when I was unable to establish a connection.
A few hours later, I reached a food vendor’s stall that was still open despite the adjacent walkways being nearly abandoned. I must have been subconsciously following the aroma of the rich spices and savory broth that was strong enough for me to smell inside my buyce. I desperately needed a break, and the spot was a decent landmark if I had to give Mereel directions to find me. And there was always the chance that I could get some helpful news or local color out of the vendor that might help me move faster.
I stopped a few meters away to attempt to comm Jaing one more time. Still no connection.
Hoping that the issue was just with off-world comms, I finally decided to try to contact Mereel. I knew he was on Coruscant. We had just cooked dinner together a few days ago. If he hadn’t been in touch yet it could be because he was busy dealing with the haran raining down on Galactic City.
I stopped catastrophizing and looked up to see the vendor, a squat, overweight man with kind eyes, waving at me.
“I got grub spicy enough to make the Mand’alor sweat. Come eat. Ya gotta be hungry.”
“Why do you think I’m hungry?” I finally asked, eyeing him warily. It was the first I’d spoken in a while; my voice sounded strange through the helmet’s vocoder.
“Well, case ya hadn’t seen already, the See Eye Ess has invaded and there’s a mighty fearsome battle happenin’ above the city right now. Someone out on the street when somethin’ like that’s happenin’? That kinda person could prob’ly use a hot meal.
“Haven’t seen ya ’round here before, and I know ev’ry person that comes through this neighborhood on the reg’lar. A Mandalorian in that nice armor? Oh, I reckon I’d remember seein’ ya alright. Figure this is prob’ly yer first time through here.
“And, well, not many reasons to be comin’ through here on yer own right now that I can think of. Yer not down here huntin’ or lookin’ fer a fight – sure, ya got that Mando steel and looks like a damn nice blaster on yer hip, but that big ruck yer carryin’? That’s the kinda thing ya leave on the ship if ya can. You look like yer tryna get to, or away from, somewhere and yer takin’ quite a lot of risk to do it.
“Yer startin’ to slouch and you were leanin’ ‘gainst that wall just now. Yer armor’s new, so yer either young or new to the Manda, either way, ya shouldn’t be that tired ‘less you been movin’ for a while.
“And since I’m the only sucker who opened up this mornin’, what with the sky fallin’ and all, and the next closest place to get chow that ain’t closed right now is a mighty haul from here on foot, musta been a while since you had a hot meal. Thought I’d offer.”
I fought back both amusement and suspicion. “How do you know about the Manda?”
“Known a few Mandalorians in my day. Have a seat, vohd – that the right word?”
I didn’t bother correcting his pronunciation. My own was bad enough.
“Name’s Hayt. Spent most my life in armor. Never got to wear none of that good bez-kar, though. Has to be earned, right?”
He had picked up on my skepticism but didn’t seem to take it personally.
“Don’t gotta tell me nothin’ ‘bout yerself, but at least let me get ya somethin’ to eat. Whole planet’s goin’ to hell. No sense in lettin’ ya go hungry. Besides, we’re gettin’ ready to close up fer the night and I don’t like wastin’ food. I can pack it up for ya if yer in a hurry, but sure looks like a nice sit would do ya some good.”
I closed my eyes behind the helmet so I could shut out other stimulus while I felt for him in the Force. I couldn’t sense anything dangerous there, but I kept my guard up as I slipped my heavy bag from my shoulders and sat down on a stool as gracefully as my exhausted and weighed-down body would allow me.
I was already impressed by Jaing and the others’ strength and stamina, even more so after a bit over a day on the move in full beskar with a ruck that weighed probably half what those boys carried.
“There ya go. Now I know some of you Mandos like to keep yer helmets on, so you just let me know if you want to be alone to eat.”
“It’s not an issue,” I said as I lifted the helmet off my shoulders. The world felt, sounded, smelled so different after being inside the filtered environment of the buyce for so long. “Feels good to take it off.”
He seemed to be pleased with my choice to show my face, like I had entrusted him with a secret. “Well, I’ll be. Wasn’t expectin’ you to be a woman. Not that women can’t be soldiers. My old lady, Curly, well…” He turned and shouted, “Curly, come on out here, would ya?”
I don’t know what I expected, but Curly was not it.
A rutian Twi’lek who stood at least a head taller than Hayt stepped out of the building behind the stall with a broad smile on her face. She was at least as old as Hayt and just as friendly. “Is my husband tellin’ tales again?” she asked in a cheerful voice and the same folksy accent. “Whatever he told ya, I promise it isn’t true, unless it’s about the noodles. Yes, those are handmade from a family recipe. Now how can I help ya, honey?”
The two were so unexpectedly charming that I almost started crying then and there. I must have looked like a gawping idiot.
“I hadn’t even started talkin’ ‘bout you yet, Curly. Our friend here was passin’ by lookin’ right worn out, so I offered up some of yer delicious Mandalorian-style home-cookin’ ‘fore we close up. Then she took off her helmet and, well, I thought you two gals might have some things in common to chit chat about.”
Curly laughed with her entire self. “He try to tell you wild stories about how I was a great warrior or pirate queen before I met him?”
“He hadn’t gotten that far, but I think that’s where he was heading…” I had a sneaking suspicion that I was in for an interesting meal.
“Now, Curly, don’t you go down-playin’ what you and that crew did,” Hayt chided her before turning back to me. “This beautiful woman here struck fear into the hearts of slavers and spicerunners from Ryloth to Nal Hutta. Ran a tight ship, but her crew would march into the twin suns of Tattooine if she ordered ‘em to.”
“Oh, Hayt, don’t go fillin’ this poor woman’s head with yer fanciful tales. She’s had a long enough day without you talkin’ ‘er ear off.” She shook her head and winked at me. “What can I get for ya, dear?”
“I – I’m not sure. Um… What do you recommend? Oh – I don’t eat roba, though.”
Curly’s face lit up, her smile somehow even wider. “Well, how ‘bout I bring you some of my personal favorites,” she recommended.
“Uh… Yeah, sure. That sounds great, Curly. Thank you.”
“Wonderful! I’ll get you started with some cold noodles. You just stay right there.” With that, she bustled back inside.
“Can I get ya somethin’ to drink?” Hayt offered. “’Fraid we don’t have any alcohol. I know some of you Mandos like to drink.”
I shook my head and realized how dehydrated I was – chapped lips, a dull ache behind my eyes. “That’s not a problem, Hayt. Doesn’t seem like a good time to be drunk. I could drink the entire Great Western Sea right now, though.”
He chuckled. “Gotta keep yer wits about ya, eh? Smart gal, ya are…” He placed a surprisingly clear glass in front of me and pulled out a large jug of water. “You drink ‘s’much as ya need now, ehhh – what should we call ya?”
A younger me would have shared my name, all kinds of personal details, let myself get swept up in their folksy charm. I’ve learned a lot in recent years, become more cynical and closed off. I couldn’t trust that any given person I spoke with wasn’t connected to the Chancellor’s office or Coruscant’s increasingly aggressive intelligence service.
“Rishak,” I responded just as Curly returned with a plate heaped high with noodles and vegetables more vibrantly colored than what I expected this far down from the surface.
“Now that is a lovely name,” she mused as she put the plate down in front of me. “Is it Mandalorian?”
“It is.” My mouth was watering at the sight of the food as Curly watched me.
“Go on, now,” she urged. “Try it!”
I obliged and was not disappointed. Curly knew her art.
“I knew you’d like it! Don’t go fillin’ up on cold noodles just yet. I’ve got some other things for you to try, dear.” She hurried away, not bothering to hide how pleased she was with herself.
“Wha’d I tell ya? My Curly knows her way ‘round a kitchen just like she does a ship. Best food on level 1312.” Hayt glowed with pride.
I nodded enthusiastically, unable to speak around the mouthfuls of crisp vegetables and savory noodles I was shoveling into my mouth with far less respect such expert cuisine deserved. Sure, I hadn’t eaten in over 24 hours, but those noodles were legitimately delicious.
“So, what do you make of all this?” I asked after finishing a few more mouthfuls.
“You mean the invasion or the whole war in gen’ral?” Hayt responded.
“Let’s hear both,” I prompted.
“Well, ain’t nothin’ ‘bout this whole war makes a lick of sense,” he began. “I’m no general but this strategy the Chance’ler’s been usin’ seems a guar’nteed failure. How they ‘spect to successfully hold off the Sep’ratiss with those boys spread out through the whole galaxy?”
“Ya know,” Curly added as she set a steaming plate of some kind of meat and rice in front of me, “if they hadn’t done that, there would be more troops here to defend ‘gainst this invasion.” She shook her head. “Never shoulda left Coruscant so vuln’rable.”
I nodded quietly. Hayt and Curly were definitely more than simple food vendors.
“Now!” Curly clapped her hands together. “Ms. Rishak, this” – she gestured toward the plate in front of me – “is the house specialty. Slow-roasted nuna and rice with Mandalorian spices, some ground shaak, nuts, and dried berries to add a little extra somethin’. That’s a simple yogurt sauce with some fresh herbs there on the side.”
She watched me expectantly as I worked to get the perfect bite onto my fork. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head as the flavors exploded in my mouth, and subconscious, blissful hum escaped me. Curly and Hayt both grinned, pleased with my reaction.
“Curly, this may be the most delicious thing I’ve eaten in… well, possibly forever, and I make Mandalorian spiced fruit cake regularly. Mabruk and shukran, as my Teta would say. Bravo and thank you so much for treating me to such a fine meal,” I gushed between bites. I had completely relaxed in their company at that point, and the meal was flooding my brain with dopamine.
A blush graced Curly’s turquoise cheeks, and Hayt looked up at her with pride. “Thank you, dear,” she said, genuinely flattered. “It’s Hayt’s favorite as well.”
“Mmmm hmmm,” the man confirmed. “Don’t fill up too much, though. Need to save room for dee-ssert We’ll box up the leftovers; don’t you worry.”
“Now, what were you two talkn’ ‘bout while I was in the kitchen?” Curly asked.
“Our friend here was askin’ ‘bout our opinions ‘bout the war,” Hayt explained, subtly inviting her input.
She shook her head. “Those poor boys. Clones or not, they are people and we’re treatin’ ‘em like they’re just driods made for fightin’ this silly war.”
I nodded. “Not a fan of cloning?”
“At least not the way the Republic is treatin’ them boys in the Gee Aye Arr,” Hayt stepped in.
Curly shook her head woefully. “Poor boys don’t stand a chance. Three million of them, the news says? That’s not enough for planet-wide battles throughout the whole damn galaxy. Now look what’s happenin’! Those boys are gettin’ slaughtered out there and Palpatine left Galactic City practic’ly unprotected. Just bad strategy.”
“Almost like it’s designed to lose,” I added.
“You can say that again,” Curly responded, pursing her lips.
“Now Aitch Enn Enn is sayin’ a whole ‘nother Republic fleet jumped in. Hundreds of new ships, ready to fight.” Hayt looked somewhere between confused and suspicious. “Fully staffed and ev’rything.”
My heart skipped a beat. Palpatine had created an entire second army in secret, just as we had suspected. But why? The question – and probable answers to related questions – kept me distracted for the rest of the meal and well into the night.
I fell asleep in a rented room above Hayt and Curly’s diner with a heavy sense of foreboding hanging over me. I had to get off Coruscant. I had to get to Jaing. I had to warn him.
