We Might Have Been Brothers

[Revenchent]

Strask was an old comrade. One whom provided the old Confederacy with all it needed in terms of intelligence. He and others within the Spynet had served as the hand behind the scenes for the Dreadguard war effort. They picked the targets. They determined what was worth going after. They figured out who was doing what and where they were doing it.

Without the Spynet, the Dreadguard would have never succeeded, and the downfall of the Confederacy would have been brought about far sooner than it had been. Unfortunately, it had fallen eventually. Its failure had been a culmination of smaller mistakes caused by dozens of different people, though Cal chose to lay most of the blame on Isley. He needed someone to blame, and Verd's connections to the Sith made that easy enough.

Fortunately, that was not why he had called the old Bothan to Mandalore today. They could discuss how and why their beloved nation fell at a later date. Right now, Cal needed someone he could trust, an old ally. Strask was one of very few who fit that description.

Clad in a black leather coat and plain black jeans, Cal awaited the old spymaster within the citadel of Kurs'taylir; the building from which he conducted all the clan's formal business. The office was small: furnished by three chairs, two on one side, the third occupied by Calico. A bookshelf lined the back wall and lights built to model the lanterns of old cast faint orange light across the wooden floorboards. A single large window showed the main square of Kurs'taylir below, and the dozens of houses with it. night was fast approaching, and snow had begun to fall once again, though Cal paid them no mind.

He sat back in his chair and sipped from his mug of hot chocolate; doing his absolute best to quell the anxiety within him.

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

It had been forever sense Stask had kept track of the Dreadguard. He had lost many of his contacts after the fiasco at Drunkenwell, and the assassination attempt after that. He had been presumed dead for years after that, his survival a closely guarded secret. The CIS had fallen, and changed, and come out something else. He hadn't gone back home. The Spynet wanted him dead, and he had the feeling that Barkt didn't want him in his life. The kid had his own company now. He didn't need his dad hanging around.

When Calico had called him, it had taken the old bothan by surprise. He hadn't heard from the man sense he left the CIS. The reason it had happened, from what he had gleaned, had surprised him. While he hadn't expected him to be that... It made some sense. Still, the bothan had stayed working, never confronted him, and kept to his job, more for his people than anything. He had left once the new administration appeared, and Alexandra's assassination attempt had only helped him escape the Spynet's clutches.

Now, as he entered the room where the Mandolorian sat, he could almost feel that something was wrong. Dressed in a black shirt and jeans under the terentatek duster, he nodded to the man. "Calico. It's been a while."

[member="Calico Tal'verda"]

 

[Revenchent]

"Yeah, it has."

Cal couldn't help but crack a wide smile. Most of the folks he ran with in the old days were long dead. The others had gone off to become self important Sith Lords. Funny how things worked out that way. The chieftain pushed up to his feet and clapped the Bothan on the shoulder, motioning to the chair opposite himself. "Y'know it's been almost fifteen years since I started that gig with the Confederacy, and you're the only guy left standing," he chuckled, "Fifteen Strask. That makes us survivors, I s'pose."

Standing made his knees hurt these days. Cal was getting older, though he hadn't allowed it to slow him down just yet. He had things he needed to do - people that needed to be shot. Perhaps one day he would allow himself the comforts of retirement, but not today. Besides, the stress of age was quite likely wearing on Strask far more than himself. The Bothan had a good ten years on him.

"How've you been? How's your kid?" He leaned back in his chair and lofted a brow, sipping from the mug of hot chocolate contently. "Oh, shab, Jinny just brewed some hot chocolate. Thirsty?"

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

The bothan gladly took the chair when it was offered. "Has it really been fifteen years?" he asked, a smile creeping across his face. "Man, I'm getting old." His smile faded for a moment. "Are we really the last? What happened to the rest of the Dreadguard?" he asked, unsure if it was a wise question to ask or not. He remember reading about Galaar's death, but he felt like Calico didn't want that brought up. Still, with how many there had been, it seemed wrong that they were so few left. Maybe he should have tried to track them. Maybe he could have kept them around.....

It took the old spy a moment to respond to the questions. "That would be lovely. You sure picked a cold place to live in." he commented. "I've been better. Mostly doing odd jobs for whoever I can. I've done more legwork in the past five years than I did in the previous ten." The smile would fade after that, and he gave a small sigh. "Barkt's doing well, as far as I can tell. He has his own shipbuilding company now. I've been trying to stay out of his hair. I don't think he's too keen on seeing me." As he said that last line, one of his hands rose, running through the graying beard on his chin. "And I don't even know where Elanna or Trask are, assuming they're still alive."

"What about you?" He asked after a moment, snapping out of his somber state for a moment. "You seem to have a nice place here, save for the freezing temperatures."

[member="Calico Tal'verda"]

 

[Revenchent]

Cal cracked a sad smile as the Bothan brought up the Dreadguard. The man was right, of course, there were far too many of the warriors to have all gone off and died in such a relatively short period of time. "Most of them came here to form Clan Tal'verda. The majority have families now. They ply their trade. Some are still mercenaries around the galaxy, but most helped us build what you see here." The smile faded. "I care for them, Strask, but they're my clansmen and my soldiers. My brothers all died long ago."

He pushed up from his chair for a moment to pour the Bothan a cup of the steaming hot liquid. Did he burn his fingers on the cup? Maybe. Did he shout a quiet curse? Perhaps. Grumbling a string of profanities under his breath, Cal returned to place it in front of his old comrade.

"We're both old these days Strask. Seems every day something decides to stop working," he took a sip from his mug, " - - and unfortunately, I'm not master of the Force. Can't find myself a new body." He huffed a good-hearted laugh and set the mug down. "The cold is good for my people. Keeps them on edge. Keeps them honed. They're constantly fighting to have a good life out here. When the war finally reaches this place, they'll be ready to fight then, too, and no man unused to the cold likes slogging through ten feet of snow to shoot at a few dug-in Mando'ade."

He fell silent as Strask recounted his children. It seemed he and Calico had a similar situation when it came to their offspring. Cal's mind drifted to Rawnie, Zius, and the late Corrin. Two of them wanted nothing to do with him. The third, so far as he knew, had passed away two years ago. "Sorry about your kids. I know the feeling. My daughter, Rawnie, she wants nothing to do with me. My son Zius is off hunting Sith for a living. He comes back from time to time to visit - - he's a good lad. Corrin...well, he had an honorable end."

Or so the elders told me.

"My wife ran out on me some time ago. Kurs'taylir is nice, but it feels a bit hollow with everyone gone." He offered a sad smile. "Figure you might be sharing some of the same sentiments. Spynet is a whole new beast these days from what I hear, and freelance work at our age..." He shook his head. "I think we both know there's got to be something more substantial. No offense, you do good work."

Another sip.

"I've been in the same boat for some time. Trained soldiers for foreign armies. I only recently returned; only recently reclaimed my title of chieftain."

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

The bothan smiled. At least the Dreadguard had gotten some peace in the end. "I sometimes want to settle down. Get a little house, maybe a farm or something, and just get away from it all." The thought brought a frown to his face. "But I know that I don't want to risk it. The Spynet's still looking for me. Turns out you can't just walk away from being spymaster." He gave an empty laugh, any mirth lost before it escaped his throat. He didn't like bouncing between employers, but he was afraid of staying in one place for too long. Paranoia from his line of work never really died out. "I don't know who even took over once I left. Probably that templar kid, Razer, I think his name was?" He hadn't looked into that for a while. Maybe he should.

He took a sip of the warm drink, enjoying the feeling as the beverage slid down his throat. "Age is coming to me a bit slower. My line of work isn't as harsh as yours." He didn't envy Calico. The man was nearly as old as he was, and he could only imagine what the stress of combat would add to the stiffness he felt. "I guess the cold is helpful in that regard. I'm just not used to it is all." He gave a little smile as he continued. "I was assigned to spy on some of the hutts on Tatooine for seven years. You never really get used to cold climates after that." He took another sip. Sometimes he missed those early days. Before everything changed.

When Calico mentioned freelance work, Strask gave a little chuckle. "People will hire a mercenary a lot more than a spy. I got stuck bouncing between hutts and small governments when they need someone who can't be traced. There's got to be something better to do." He took a sip and thought for a moment. Maybe he should try and rebuild a contact network, starting with the few of them who weren't Spynet affiliated. But something was bugging him.

"Why did you call me now?" he asked, his brow furrowing. Calico had been the last person he had expected to contact him. "If you just wanted to talk, you would have done it long before this."

[member="Calico Tal'verda"]

 

[Revenchent]

Calico listened to Strask's little fragments of stories with genuine curiosity. The Bothan had always been a source of speculation for both himself and Galaar. Just one of many little topics they would drone on about in the waking hours of the morning, when everyone else had long found the comfort of sleep. Part of him felt guilty for not calling sooner. When the Confederacy fell apart, and Galaar met his end, Calico had become truly lost. His wife had managed to pull him back toward some vague sense of normalcy.

He could only imagine what things must have been like for Strask.

"I should have called sooner. I've been a bad friend," he admitted, eyes flickering down to the mug of hot chocolate in shame. "But, you're right, I had a reason for calling you here Strask."

He drained what little remained of his drink and tented his fingers. "Galaar and I built this place as a retreat. It was to be a save haven for ourselves and our brothers in arms. That includes you." He nodded toward the Bothan. "You say the Spynet hunts you. I can offer you asylum here, if you want it."

He cracked a warm smile. "I won't ask anything of you, though your expertise would be appreciated. Things on Mandalore are rocky right now - - things in the entire galaxy are rocky. We're trying to deal with that all on our own. The Alore Council is effective, but..."

Calico shook his head.

"Things are a mess Strask."

[member="Strask Ak'lya"]

 

[Ak'lya]

Strask was a bit taken aback by the genuine sorrow that Calico seemed to feel. It took him a moment to remember that the life of a solider was much different than that of a spy. Friends were something you had to spare on the front, and something as rare as aurodium in a spy agency. After a pause to collect his thoughts, he sighed. "If you're a bad thread, I've been worse." He felt his face drooping. Almost immediately, some reflex in him forced it back to the neutral expression of a spy. "I didn't even pay attention to anyone after Drunkenwell. Didn't even try and make sure that any of you were okay." He took another sip, seeming to think about what the man had said.

A small smile crept across his face at the mention of asylum. It seemed too good to be true, but from Calico, he was almost certain it wasn't. Loyalty was something the man held to heart, even if the Bothan refused to rely on it. But if Calico saw him as a friend, then there were few safer places that Strask could think of to hide from the Spynet.

"I'd be more than willing to help." Strask commented. "Although I may need a crash course on the mandolorian side of politics."

[member="Calico Tal'verda"]