Out With the Old, In With the New

[Silver Cutlass]

Alzoc III, Skirata Outpost Hangar Bay, 2200 Hours

Alone in the hangar bay stood a lone man, dressed in a tan-tinted set of Mandalorian armor, clutching his helmet in his hands, the black visor reflecting his own, graying face back at him. A deep sigh seeped through the man's lips as he stared at himself, deep in thought.

This is Lyon Skirata. Mandalorian by birth, Clan leader by choice, and Veteran Soldier by force. A man who was once as foolhardy as a young soldier could get, but now was considered to be the wisest among Clan Skirata. He was also a man with a reputation. He had fought countless Jedi, Alliance soldiers, mercenaries, and to boot, he even once participated in a fight with the galaxy-renowned Yuri Sharp. And lived. Yes, he had lived a long life, and had done many things. Yet, still, he himself couldn't help but feel something was missing in his life. It had been present for a long time now, something that had started since before they left Mandalorian Space, and was coming to a peak. He knew what it was, and it called for two things.

The first was to call one of his warriors, a pilot, to get one of Skirata's ships ready for takeoff. The second was to call Lyon's most trusted friend to speak with him at this very time. That man was Dex Skirata. And he most likely had no idea what was about to be given to him.

 

[Grimlock]

He had been sitting in his quarters when the call from Lyon arrived. Repainting his armor to add purple to the red and black scheme he wore though the black stripe down his arm remained untouched. It was constant reminder of his service to the now disbanded Protectors. Debating between appearing before the Aliit'alor in half painted armor to arrive on time or being a few minutes late to ensure his armor was completed. He opted for the latter. Finishing the last stroke from the air brush he was using, he reattached the plates to his bodysuit and replaced his buy'ce upon his head before wrapping the scarf of Jedi and Sith cloaks around his neck.

Jorbe lay at the feet of Dex, glanced up through one open albeit sleepy eye before standing at it's full height and stretching out it's muscles. Following behind Dex as he walked out the door, the Mando and Strill pair made their way through the arctic command post toward the hangar. Upon arriving, Dex immediately noted a pilot preparing one of the ships for take off and Lyon standing by himself in the center. The Alor of Clan Skirata and in many eyes, the savior of the legendary clan of warriors. Walking toward his oldest friend, Dex stopped a few feet away from him. "Su'cuy, ner vod. Are we going somewhere?" asked Dex as he motioned to the prepped ship. He assumed this was going to be a simple run and gun mission to acquire something the clan needed. Jorbe meanwhile closed the gap between itself and Lyon, bumping it's head into Lyon's thigh plate in it's newly developed greeting custom.

 

[Silver Cutlass]

The near silence of the hangar bay pointed out Dex's arrival as his armored boots clanged against the metal floor. Lyon's eyes turned to watch the Mando as he made his approach, though his head did not move, still oriented towards the old buy'ce clasped in his hands. The younger verd stopped a couple feet away from him, and spoke, inquiring if they were going somewhere. For the next few moments, Lyon was silent as his eyes went back to look himself in the face, pondering his question. "We are going somewhere. You, myself, the Clan. Going somewhere." He slowly and quietly let out.

He had been in thought for this for some time. For many weeks actually, but he only now worked up the will to actually go through with it. He sighed again, putting his helmet underneath his arms, looking down to notice the Strill, Dex's favorite long-time pet Jorbe. His face expressionless, Lyon bent down to brush an armored glove against the creature's cheek, petting it. After a moment he rose and turned to Dex, their eyes meeting. "Dex. You've been with Clan Skirata for longer than I was alor. You've been my partner and my friend. You know, you've come a long way in the Aliit. You and I both have." There was another pause as Lyon's eyes drifted off.

Was he really going to be able to do this? Was it too early? Was it too late? Should he even do it at all? All these doubts coursed through his mind at lightspeed, all burdening him with the weight of a Star Destroyer. This was a hard decision, a very hard decision to make. But it had to be done. "Dex, what do you think og our current predicament?" He asked, his eyes slowly drifting back up to meet Dex's gaze once more.

 

[Grimlock]

"You know I'll follow you anywhere, ner vod." replied as he noted Lyon's seemingly absent emotional state. After spending his entire life in a culture that was faceless behind the visors of their armor, he had learned to read his fellow Mandos after being around them long enough. In the case of Lyon and the time the two of them had spent since before the civil war that ravaged them once again, Dex felt he was quite adept at reading his Alor. Though before he could voice his concerns on the matter, he was asked what he thought of the current situation the clan was in.

Dex admired Lyon for that exact reason. Despite the multiple other conversations they had engaged in where Lyon not only heeded Dex's opinion but acted upon it, showed that he truly valued Dex as both a friend and a leader of the verde. "I... Think that we're in a bad spot, Lyon. We have limited medical supplies, fuel for the vehicles and other necessary equipment. An expedition to Kyrimorut to gather what we can from our armories and motorpools is my suggestion." replied Dex as he removed his buy'ce to look his Alor eye to eye. "If any of us are going to survive, we need to prepare and train. Not whore ourselves out to the highest bidder... Perhaps even give up our search for the Jetiise. At least momentarily until we've rearmed and regrouped."

 

[Silver Cutlass]

Dex's ideas had much merit to them. That was one thing Lyon had learned about his friend after being with him for so long: he was no-nonsense, and loyal. He was right of course, about all that he had said. At least in Lyon's mind, it appeared that way. But on the other hand, Dex's wrods choked up Lyon. The Clan was in a dire situation, and yet, could he still go through with his plan. If that was the case, he was no better than a dar'manda. Then again, the Clan was in dire straights, and who had been leading them to this point? He had. It was his fault. His fault for not acting sooner to prepare the Clan. His fault for not voicing his opinion towards the Jedi and Sith earlier.

His fault.

Those two words were the same that always came to his mind nowadays when he considered his Clan's situation. He had been leading Skirata since before Coruscant's Fall. He was the one who had led them out of Mandalorian Space, just as the Imperial Blockade Ships were coming in. He was their leader. This mess was his fault.

That was why he needed to do this. He had gotten them into this mess. He might not be able to get them out. He had lost his old touch, it seemed. He wasn't the Mandalorian he used to be. And that needed serious fixing.

Prudii Skirata, the Aliit'alor before Lyon, had told him many times in conversations after he had become Alor of an old story. "Lyon," He'd always start off. "My father, and his father to him, told me of an old parable. One of a fire. What do you need to start a fire?" Lyon would usually raise an eyebrow and speak. "Firewood?" He guess. Prudii would nod. "That's correct. You need firewood to start the fire. And once it is lit, the fire can live on for quite a long time, yes? But what happens when the fire begins to burn low and die out?" This part puzzled Lyon the first time it was asked of him, and he did not know the answer. "I don't know." The elder Mandalorian would nod, and tell him. "You need new firewood, for the old wood is dried out, and cannot keep the fire kindling any longer. But the new firewood can breath new life into the fire. It can keep it alive for much longer, while the old firewood must be thrown out and find it's uses elsewhere. The same is said for the Alor of an Aliit. When the old man runs out of steam, he needs to be replaced so that new blood can breath life into the Clan."

Lyon awoke from his memory and found himself looking off past Dex, before returning his gaze to meet Dex's eyes. His face was as stoic as ever, doing his best not to give away any emotion. Not sadness, not regret, nothing at all. Just the cold glare Lyon had become known for. "These are troublesome times, Dex, you're right about that. Especially for us." He stopped himself. He couldn't postpone this any longer. This was something he needed to do. "Tell me Dex, do you know of the parable of the fire?" He asked. This was it. The time had come.

 

[Grimlock]

Watching as his closest friend seemed to drift to another time long past, he waited until he was back in the present. The shift of the Alor's eyes told Dex that was exactly what was happening. He saw it more and more each day from the verde of the clan. Staring into the distance as they recounted fonder times no longer possible made Dex weep more for the clan than ever before. They were lost without the comfort of Kyrimorut and they could never return while the Imperium blockaded their homeland. If it even still stood thanks to the civil war and firebombing campaign of the Sith.

Finally the Alor's sight returned to the present as Dex stood at rapt attention. When asked about fire, Dex hid his confusion behind the impassive mask he had learned to wear. He was not a man who was afraid to admit when he didn't know something. "I don't understand, Lyon." replied the younger Mando as he clipped his buy'ce onto his belt and clasped his hands at the small of his back with his feet at shoulder width.

 

[Silver Cutlass]

Lyon nodded as Dex voiced his confusion. The Mandalorian Clan Leader sighed as he began to recount the parable, just as Prudii had told him. "I'm sure you remember Prudii, don't you? He was Alor before me. He told me of this parable once I took his place as Aliit'alor. Do you know what is needed to start a fire?" After getting an answer from Dex, regardless if it was correct or not, Lyon replied with this. "Firewood. You need firewood to start a fire. Once you have the firewood, and have it lit, it can live for a very long time." He almost got choked up, but stopped himself from expressing his sadness.

He cleared his throat, with a weak cough, before continuing on. "When the old firewood begins to burn low and die out, do you know what is needed to keep the firewood going?" He asked again. Again, after receiving an answer from Dex, regardless of it's correctness, he continued onward. "You need new firewood. The old firewood is dried out, and cannot sustain the fire for any longer. The new firewood, though, it can breath new life into the fire. It can keep it alive for much longer, while the old firewood must be thrown out and find it's uses elsewhere." Despite his efforts not to, he did get somewhat choked up with the last line.

He calmed himself, and sighed, his face returning to its lack of emotion. He looked Dex straight in the eyes as he finally said it. "Dex, I am the old firewood. I am burnt out and cannot sustain the fire any longer. But you, you are the new firewood."

"Dex Skirata, as Alor, I hereby resign from my position and declare you as the new Aliit'alor of Clan Skirata."

 

[Grimlock]

Listening with the same rapt attention he always showed his Alor, he slowly grasped the meaning of the story until the final bombshell was dropped on the warrior. "Lyon.. You've never been the type to joke around. Don't start now." spoke Dex though he knew that this was no joke and he had just been given the responsibility of leading, protecting, and caring for almost 200 men, women, and children. At his waist he felt the push of Jorbe's head as he felt the shift in emotions that Dex underwent, giving a quiet whine of concern. An armored hand fell to the Strill's head as Dex looked his friend and leader dead in the eyes. The fact that Lyon was choked and almost unable to finish his tale was testament to that.

Dex even felt himself beginning to choke up as he thought on the miracles the man before him had performed. Saving the clan. Finding them a new home. Rebuilding them and leading them with the same passion he always held. This was truly aay'han. The bittersweet feeling of being with the only family he had known his entire life and the loss of their leader to whatever had urged this change of Clan leadership. "Lyon... You are my closest friend. A brother and there is no one I would rather have watching my back.." spoke the man through his own choking throat. "I'm not ready for this. I can't lead our clan the way you have."

 

[Silver Cutlass]

Lyon nodded. The only thing that kept him from shedding a tear at the sad moment was his stark stubbornness not to appear weak. This was hard. It was almost impossible to do. He would almost rather rip off his own fingers then do what he was about to do. He reached a hand over to Dex and placed it on his long-time friend's shoulder. "Dex, you are much more talented than you recognize. A leader is only as strong as those he has reinforcing him. If it weren't for you and your skills, we wouldn't have gotten off Mandalore. We wouldn't have got this base up and running. If it weren't for you, I may have faltered long ago, and become like one of the warring clans back home."

He gave his old friend a solid pat on the shoulder, and a forced, yet sincere, reassuring smile. "Dex, I've lost my touch. I feel like... like there's a part of me missing. Something that either I've lost, or I haven't had and now need. Until then, I don't feel I can lead the Clan." He said, his smile starting to droop into a solemn frown. But yet, his eyes looked back up, and met Dex's stare, imparting seriousness to the younger man. "You are the only person I want leading the Clan in my absence." He stated, as straight as he could be with the man. Dex was strong-willed and loyal, and would no doubt have the Clan's best interests at heart.

That part was over. But the bitterness had not yet ended. He had one last thing to tell of. He took his hand off his shoulder and started backing up, stepping a few paces towards the transport now ready for take-off. "Like I said, I'm in need of something... a part of me, that to be truly considered Mando'a, I need. And I intend to find it." He blinked a couple times, keeping at bay the tears that wanted to spout out from him. "I don't know why, but this missing part of me, I can't find it on Alzoc. Dex, I have to leave. I can't be a true Mandalorian without it." He stated solemnly.

He was leaving. That was the hard decision he had to make. Leaving Dex in charge? That wasn't hard. He was the only person Lyon fully trusted was capable to lead the Clan. But leaving his family? That was difficult. But regardless, he knew it in his heart and his soul: He didn't feel Mandalorian. He was missing something. And he intended on finding it. And once he did, he would return. Lyon reached down to his belt, and pulled out a special, long-range comlink, and threw it to Dex. "I don't plan on returning until I find it. But in case, in dire circumstances, you need me, I'll be ready to answer your call."

 

[Grimlock]

Biting his lip to keep himself from also becoming more emotional than he already was. "Understood, ner vod." choked out Dex. It was all he could say. There was nothing else that needed to be said. No good byes. They were too final and Dex was determined to see his friend again. Jorbe understood entirely what was happening as he pushed his head against Dex's thigh plate giving a long low whine. Catching the comlink that was thrown to him, he put it in a belt pouch that was worn with use showing that the things he prized or thought most useful found their place there. Placing his buy'ce back upon his head, he approached Lyon as he drew the man into a rough hug accompanied by the clatter of their armor's plates. "I hope you find what you're looking for out there, my friend. Never doubt that you are a Mandalorian. We'll be waiting to join your side in battle again."

Watching the man he had considered a brother for over a decade approach the transport, he let the tears finally sting their way from his eyes. Ashamed at his weakness even though his buy'ce hid his face. From behind him, Jorbe tilted back his head as he gave a long sorrowful howl.

 

[Silver Cutlass]

Lyon accepted the rough hug, bringing Dex in tightly, armored plates clanking against one another. "K'oyacyi, ner vod. You are Jatnese be te jatnese." When they let go of one another, Lyon started towards the transport, he turned his head back to face Dex once more, and nodded to him, a sign of respect. "We will meet again. Stay alive, brother." He ordered, as he finally started once more into the transport. The old Juri-class ship was fairly large, but it didn't take home long to get to the cockpit.

He took a seat behind the pilot, who was fully dressed in beskar'gam. He nodded to Lyon as the elder took a seat. "Where to, alor?" He asked, not yet aware of the change in leadership. Lyon thought it over before speaking. "Tatooine. Mos Eisley." The pilot nodded in response. Once the doors to the hangar opened up, the old Mandalorian transport hurdled out of the Skirata Compound and headed into space. Once they cleared the gravity well, the ship entered into hyperspace, while Lyon was left looking back once more into his own reflection in the helmet.

He sighed at the man looking back at him, as he placed the helmet on his head and drifted into a slumber, aided by the hum of the hyperspace drives.

/EndThread