Punitive Action

[Mandalore the Liberator]

If one were to describe the Sundari Royal Palace (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Sundari_Royal_Palace) in a single word, it would be impressive. The entire city was an impressive feat of architecture and engineering: when the New Mandalorians had chosen to build their new capital out here in the decimated deserts of Mandalore's annihilation (http://starwars.wikia.com/wiki/Mandalorian_Excision) by the Republic, they had crafted a city that was meticulously planned to fit within this fortified fortified dome, to endure and represent their ideals for centuries to come.

But the ideals of the Faithless were the wrong ideals. At least, that was how so many of the traditionalist Mandalorians felt. The True Mandalorians. The ones who revered and respected the old ways.

When Beskade Goza had led the liberation of his people from Imperial occupation, freedom had been the only objective on his mind. Becoming Mandalore, convincing the Clans to bestow upon him that revered, traditional title, had been the simplest means to that simple end. The Mand'alor could rally warriors from the far reaches of the galaxy; and he had done so. He had called an army unto him, and the Empire had been overthrown, ousted from the entire sector. He had gone further, drawing on friendships within the Alliance of Free Planets, to assure Mandalore's liberty under the terms of the great Treaty that had divided the galaxy.

That had been as far as his objectives had extended, but he had reached that end to discover that the greatest battle was still to come. The Mandalorians were warriors in their blood: even the New Mandalorians, who had merely aimed that determination in a war against temptation. Being at peace was a struggle for any Mandalorian, and while many saw the New Mandalorian pacifism as weakness and cowardice, Beskade understood the strength it revealed.

Most Mandalorians did not have that strength. If they were not given a war, they would go looking for it, and with so many disparate fractured factions within the Mandalore that Beskade had rallied together, the danger was that the war they would find would be against each other.

And that was why he was here, of all places. That was why Te Na'mirci Mand'alor sat on a throne in the halls of the New Mandalorians. It was an exchange; a compromise; and most of all it was a message. The Mand'alor and the traditional Council of Clans would meet here, in the New Mandalorian capital; the Parliament that the New Mandalorians had instigated to attend to the political affairs of their world would meet in the traditional capital of Keldabe. The leadership of one tradition, meeting in the home of the other: because no matter where you were or what you believed, all on this world were Mandalorians, and they would stand or burn as one.

Formidable as the battle for unity was, the skirmishes it precipitated were often of the most tedious sort: and today was of no exception. As Mand'alor slumped in his throne, the gaze of his one good eye swept across the arc of chairs arrayed in front of him, five in all. At the centre sat the accused: Mara Tallen, warrior of Clan Koine. To her left was her accuser, Mace Riko, the man who served as proxy for the Bounty Hunters' Guild in matters of politics; and to her right sat her defender, Mackenzie Tallen, the only other Koine left on Mandalore. Beyond them sat his two closest advisors: Sol'yc Falcris Ordo, his Al'alor, Chancellor; and Beviin Goza, his impertinent sister. No surprise, Beviin had chosen to sit on the side of the defense; the more confrontational of the two choices.

The entire situation was farcical, and yet necessary. A fight had broken out in one of Sundari's taverns, between Mara Tallen and one of Mace Riko's hunters. Such things happened a dozen times a day anywhere else in the galaxy, but in Sundari it was a grievous crime, and Mand'alor was forced to respect those laws. The perpetrator had been dragged off to be detained; the victim had been carried to the nearest medical facility, his pride by far the most wounded part of him.

This small tribunal had been rallied to pass sentence. It was so normal and therein lay the problem. The idea of New Mandalorian courts appealed more and more with each passing moment, but he knew that the True Mandalorians would see the idea of being subjected to their justice as an affront. This was the compromise, for now, until something better could be stumbled across; or until everything completely fell apart, and it ceased to be something for Beskade to worry about.

A hand pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"Explain yourself," he demanded of the perpetrator.

[Falcris Ordo]

This would be the fulcrum. The tipping point upon which the scales of justice would be calibrated.

Chancellor Ordo sat silent as Mand'alor began the proceedings without pomp, calling on the accused to dispense with her part in events. For now, he would simply observe and advise. There wasn't yet any precedent on which to lean on, and the divergent application of justice held by both True Mandalorians and New Mandalorians would require trials by fire in order to be fired, hammered, and folded upon itself like so much beskar. Already, he'd tended to numerous complaints that this would simply be a supercommando kangaroo court. He'd alienated more than a few of his allies by even being in the room today. For someone with such deep convictions, this was the proving ground. You couldn't simply lock yourself in an ivory tower of your own unchallenged ideals.

[Mara Tallen]

The young warrior sat in the center of the arc of chairs, devoid of the uniform and the aliik that had defined her life for the last half dozen years. There was no Rebellion anymore, there was the post-treaty Alliance. There were new lines drawn across the galaxy that left friends and family on the wrong side. There were worlds that had been synonymous with rebellion and freedom that had been abandoned behind enemy lines in her estimation. The first thing she was taught when she enlisted was that you never left anyone behind.

How then did any of this make sense?

It was too much to take in without feeling as if she were gong to burst. Morgan's absence on top of everything made it that much harder to bear. Mara wondered if this habit of the men she fell in love with leaving her was bad luck, her usual terrible judgement, or because of what she was. A horrible thought, but there it was...and no amount of alcohol was aiding her in forgetting the way it was supposed to.

And it certainly didn't make the current situation any simpler to deal with. This time, though, Mack was at her side, something she was intensely grateful for. Beviin was there as well, and while she counted the Mand'alor's sister as a friend, she couldn't help but wonder why she picked this moment to tweak her brother's nose with her presence.

Mara sat straight and still, eyes still the burnished gold of her feline half, focused straight ahead on a step just below where the Mand'alor sat. Auburn locks tumbled loose around her shoulders, hands folded neatly atop the buy'ce that rested in her lap. Her lower lip was swollen, but at least it had stopped bleeding where it had been split open. A small price to pay in her estimation, and a matter of pride that it was the only sign of the fight that she bore. Would that her father were there on Mandalore...he would have understood why she'd done what she had. Hell, he'd have likely done the same thing had he been present in the cantina when the bastard Houk had opened his mouth.

"Explain yourself," he demanded of the perpetrator.

She rose instantly, knowing the demands of protocol. When the Mand'alor spoke, you answered...even if you were a half-breed predator with the occasional anger issue and stubborn streak. Flickering golden eyes lifted to meet his gaze as she swallowed and paused a moment before voicing a reply, biting the inside of her cheek to keep her temper in check. Slender fingers, knuckles still bloody since she'd lost her crushgaunts in the fight, tensed on the helm they clasped between them.

"Therrre was a grroup of us having a a few drrrinks down at the Oyu'baat earlierr. I overhearrd Grrrom leveling a few insults at my fatherr, which I returned in kind. He then decided that my motherr made an excellent tarrrget, and that I would not tolerrate. With his rrrefusal to offerr an apology, I saw to taking one from him." She said simply, though her dark expression spoke of the volumes she wisely bit back.

[Beviin Goza]

She loved her brother. Truly, she did.

And she respected him for what he was...both the aliit'buir of their clan and the Mand'alor of their people.

But there were times...much like this one, that she wondered what in the kark Beskade was thinking. Mara was young, certainly, and occasionally foolish. But within her rights to defend the memory of her mother, in her opinion. Beviin would have gone so far as to wager hard credits on Grom having baited her simply because she was part of the Alliance. He wouldn't be the first or even the only to hold a grudge against the way the lines had been drawn. But these sorts of foolish vendettas did no one any favors...especially given the divisions their people already had in front of them.

They all carried the spirit of the Manda. They were all Mandalorians. Facts that everyone seemed to want to forget on a regular basis.

Beviin sighed faintly, reaching up to pinch the bridge of her nose, in an unintentional mirror of her brother's gesture. Dark eyes blinked as she dared a glance to Mackenzie, lingering but briefly as Beskade demanded an accounting from Mara. Her gaze lifted to her brother, and then flicked to her friend as she rose, standing tall and straight as she replied. Her lips twitched as she tried not to smile, casting her gaze down to her hands where they lay folded in her lap. Clad in her usual crimson leathers instead of her beskar'gam, with her hair bound back in a braid, she was every inch the impertinent sister that made the Mand'alor's life even more of a challenge.

[Mackenzie Tallen]

This was great. Truly wonderful.

Of all the places in the galaxy he could have been right now, this was probably somewhere towards the middle of the list. It certainly wasn't at the bottom: Mackenzie was far too aware of the abundance of dark, unpleasant holes that the galaxy had; he'd even sent a fair few people to some of them during his time with the Empire, and he knew all too well the kind of hospitality the Imperials provided in such places. His understanding of the universe provided far too broad a cushion of unpleasant for this situation to sink through; even so, it was a pretty crappy place to be.

Being in the Sundari palace might have been a pleasant, interesting experience were he here at a tourist, but he wasn't. He was sandwiched between his sister and Mand'alor's, both of them apparently on a mission to make their brother's life as difficult and irritating as possible. Yes, okay, this was Mandalore, and a certain degree of violence was an accepted norm. Yes, okay, this Grom really was asking for it, and probably deserved what he'd got. But the key component here wasn't why Mara had done what she did; it wasn't that everything seemed to work out appropriately in the end; it was that in order to get there, Mara had been hitting hard enough to subdue a Houk into unconsciousness: a hulking, battle-scarred, armour-plated Houk. There was a bar fight, and then there was excessive force. Words from the preamble of Integration in Alien Cultures 101 drifted through his mind in the voice of one of his Professors from back at the Imperial Academy. Apparently, the Alliance hadn't gone to quite the lengths to educate their soldiers in not making an ass of themselves; or how to speak to someone of ridiculously higher social status than you without sounding like a petulant bundle of displaced anger.

"Sorry to interject, Mand'alor -"

He rose as well; not like some rookie snapping to attention though; slower and more deliberate than Mara had. He turned a disapproving glance in his sister's direction, before giving the leader of their people his full attention.

"It may not seem that way, given the difficulty she is currently having with keeping her tone in check -" That word carried a little bite of edge, a sidelong glance briefly thrown in Mara's direction. "- and my vod'ike is too stubborn to openly admit it; but in truth, restraint is one of her strongest suits. Mara is a trained military operative, and has an instinctive mentality of threat assessment. What you perceive as a young woman losing control and beating a patron senseless over an argument is in fact a devastatingly formidable half-Felacatian restraining herself exactly enough to subdue a potentially dangerous opponent swiftly, and without causing any long term damage to the Houk, the venue, or any of the other patrons."

Mackenzie paused, carefully weaving together the net of defense that he had so painstakingly and meticulously researched. Mara was the soldier of the two of them, and had clearly inherited all of the impulse control and short-sightedness that went hand-in hand with that stereotype. Mackenzie on the other hand, his specialist field was intelligence; and his half-sister's distinct lack of that had evidently transferred to him. He'd have to do the thinking for the both of them, as usual.

"I'm sure Mace Riko can confirm this: Grom is an individual with a history of provoking violent and damaging altercations, goading others into throwing the first punch so that he can satisfy his lust for violence under the protection of local self-defense laws. On Mandalore more than any other world, the continued welcome of the Bounty Hunters' Guild is entirely conditional on their obedience to local laws; more so than ever, that tactic is Grom's only option. Perhaps if Mara were less witless, she wouldn't have allowed herself to be so easily provoked; but she was absolutely an unwitting victim to those machinations."

Another pause; a glance cast in the direction of the Chancellor and the Guild's representative. "Also, for the record? Sundari's laws regarding public violence stipulate that all participants should be subdued swiftly with all necessary and appropriate force, to remove the risk of collateral harm befalling any members of the general public. Not to disrespect the skills of your law enforcement operatives; but a conventional attempt to take Grom into custody for questioning would have ended with a lot more hurt than just an unconscious Houk and Miss Anger Management's messed-up face. In fact -"

He shrugged.

"- the whole Council would probably be here, and we'd be discussing the expulsion of the Bounty Hunters' Guild from Mandalore. Misplaced though it might have been, my sister's swift anger has spared you from a much more messy political incident."

[Mandalore the Liberator]

Beskade let out a sigh. He could hear the Empire's voice in those words; or the Empire's accent, at least. He had been lucky, in a way, to have avoided exposure to the Imperials, thanks to his time spent on Shedu Maad; but he knew the Republic all too well, and for all the universe's insistence that the Galactic Republic and Galactic Empire were two entirely different things, they had far more in common than anyone was prepared to admit. There was the same sense of supremacy. The same sense that their traditions somehow trumped everyone else's. The same twisting of laws and values to work in their favour. The same attitude that had provoked the Mandalorians into war with them for century after century.

Even so, Mandalore was fractured and precarious, and while Imperial excuses were welcomed by no one, they were equally unwelcome. That was the secret complexity of politics: not to try and make everyone happy; but to ensure that everyone's unhappiness was as equally distributed as possible. In a way, the Imperial was even right: the what if could have been far worse. Not that Mandalore's uncertain legal system could be built on the foundation of lesser crimes preventing worse crimes, of course.

"An accurate assessment of your hunter?" Mand'alor asked of Mace Riko. The man with that all too familiar face - the face of the Fett clan, so recently worn by the Republic and Empire's army - shrugged and nodded his reluctant agreement. It would have been easier had the Imperial been wrong; would have been easier if they could simply throw this Mara Tallen in a stockade for her actions, or exile her back to her Alliance. Of course, a whole new realm of messy complications lay down that path: the exile of your Ambassador's unruly daughter was not a headache Beskade looked forward to suffering.

"Sol'yc," he asked, addressing his Chancellor. "You know the laws of the True Mandalorians better than I. Do you concur with Tallen's interpretation?"

[Falcris Ordo]

Chancellor Ordo heard the request for council. For a moment, he remained in a state of contemplation. The Nautolan's fingers steepled in front of him. His impassable black orbs stared only at Mara Tallen, offering no hint of his thoughts. A moment later, he stood, a nod of deference as he reached his full height towards Mand'alor. He then turned his attention towards the elder Tallen.

"You speak of motive and of machination. I know of these things. The degree with which the hand thrusts the beviin into flesh. The Empire knows these things as well, do they not?"

Ordo raised a fleshy brow, his array of tentacles shifting at the observation of the Tallen elder's point.

"We Mando'ade, we agree so little at times. We argue. We fight. Aliit ori'shya tal'din, we say. Family is more than blood."

The Chancellor allowed a modest grin at the repeat of the saying. As a Nautolan Mandalorian, he was a visible embodiment of the sentiment. The smile was short lived, however.

"There are things we agree on, Mand'alor. Ke'gyce. Order. The warriors without it die in battle. The state without it falls."

Falcris once again regarded Beskade with a solemn nod.

"We stand for this," The Chancellor illustrated the tying bind between True and New Mandalore "or we stand for nothing."

Returning his attention to Mara, Falcris clasped his hands together.

"A law was broken. You stand accused. You admit to the transgression. Whether your Felacatian blood usurped your Mandalorian order is not the issue. The issue is that you reclaim your ijaat. Take back your honor, and accept the consequences of your guilt."