The Ability To Change

'I don't trust him.'

Juhani's voice was harsher than normal, the lilt of her speech soft and biting.

'And I don't trust your opinion of him, my dear. It's colored by prejudice.'

'Rightful prejudice, Jolee. His people destroyed my homeworld. He is a monster, and that will never change.'

Jolee let out what sounded like a cross between a snort and a harrumph. 'His people did some reprehensible things, sure. But he didn't, and he's not a monster. Can't judge a man by his race.'

There was a sharp intake of breath, and an angry growl rose from Juhani's throat, but Jolee cut her off before she could begin.

'Save your anger for Xor, Juhani. Leave Canderous out of it.'

Mission sighed from her position behind the door. Snooping on the Ebon Hawk invariably brought out more than she wanted to know. Somehow, she felt she would rather partake in the illusion of a friendly crew than the actuality of the one in front of her. While most of the crew spent time together, racial and ideological tensions sometimes drove the crewmembers apart.

Leaving Taris had been the best thing to happen to her. She had found a family in the Hawk. It wasn't a perfect one, and they had their differences, but at the end of the day, she loved each and every one of them. And hearing them fight was hard.

Juhani stalked out, and Mission held her breath, hoping that the Cathar was too immersed in her anger to notice the eavesdropper. Her luck held, and the Jedi passed by without incident. Jolee shuffled out after her, shooting an amused glace at the Twi'lek. Mission grinned sheepishly. She should have known she couldn't pull the wool over the old man's eyes. He was too crafty by far.

Her thoughts turned to the subject of the conversation, towards one Canderous Ordo. The Mandalorian had been suspiciously quiet since the Hawk's departure from Tatooine, and the source was a mystery. Well, not so much a mystery as the fact that Canderous and Seraya, the only two that knew what had happened in the time before the liftoff, were keeping silent about the whole thing. There had been a few whispered conversations, but other than that, Mission was in the dark. She didn't like not knowing what was going on.

However, at the moment there was nothing she could do about it. Mission sighed and stood up, working the kinks out of her knees and back. Next time she went snooping, she would bring a pillow.

The loading ramp was open, so Mission slipped out, conveniently stashing the warnings Seraya had given her into her short term memory. She wasn't a kid. She could take care of herself. And besides, Manaan was about as safe as you could get. Cameras and Selkath everywhere. No one would try anything funny.

Canderous was sitting on a crate outside the docking bay, a lit cigarra in his hand. He looked strange without his repeater, but Seraya had insisted that they had to follow some galactic laws, and the guns were the first thing to go. Mission couldn't help but notice that Seraya had kept her lightsaber, but that was water under the bridge.

She approached him, careful to make only the slightest amount of noise. If she was too obvious, Canderous would lecture her about stealth. If she was too quiet, she ran the risk of getting killed by Canderous before he noticed it was her. She strove to find a happy medium.

'Ya know, smoking will kill you.'

Canderous glanced at the Twi'lek, apparently unsurprised by her sudden entrance. He tapped the back of his neck with his free hand. 'Implant. Does its job.'

Mission clambered up the metal crate Canderous was sitting on and swung her legs over, shooting a wry look at the Mandalorian. 'So your implant supports your life of debauchery? I knew you didn't get it for the war wounds.'

Canderous chuckled and took another drag, letting the smoke swirl around his mouth before expelling it into the air. The sun glinted off the metal plates of Ahto City, and Mission had to squint to see.

Canderous tapped his cigarra against the edge of the crate, shaking off the ash that had accumulated. 'Where's your pet furball? I thought you two were an item.'

Mission sighed and looked out over the water. 'Z refused to leave the ship. Something about Manaan being worse than Taris. Too much metal. He gets nervous.'

'Don't think the Selkath would appreciate a Wookiee talking about their precious jewel like that.'

'Don't think they'd appreciate cigarras either.' Mission rebutted pointedly. 'They have a sign and everything.'

Canderous followed Mission's gaze towards the rather long list of restrictions posted up on the docking bay wall and smirked. Smoking was at the top.

He shrugged. 'If it bothers them, they can come in here and tell me.'

'Like that would do any good.'

Canderous nodded. 'Now you're learning.'

Mission smiled softly in response. For a few moments, the only noises were the sound of waves lapping against the walls of the city and the steady exhalation of smoke from Canderous.

For some reason, she felt like testing her luck. Talking was Canderous was a real mixed bag -- either he was in the mood to talk, or he answered questions with broken bones and cracked heads. But there had to be a reason for Canderous' mysterious silence, and Mission Vao was nothing if not curious.

'So...' Mission began, taking care to glance at Canderous. There was no reaction. That was enough of an invitation to continue. 'Anything interesting happen lately?'

'Nothing that I'd talk about.' Canderous replied gruffly. Mission didn't let his tone deter her.

'Ya sure? Cause I heard something about a fight. There mighta been blood. Or possibly red sand. It wasn't clear.'

Canderous blinked. Coming from the Mandalorian, it was about as loud as another man shouting in surprise. The cigarra paused in its path from his mouth to the edge of the crate. 'N'jurkad. You might not like what you find, Blue.'

'Shouldn't I know if my crewmates kill people on a regular basis?'

'As I recall, you've done your share of killing.'

Mission rolled her eyes. 'That was in self defense.'

Canderous was unmoved. 'So was this.'

Mission frowned. 'It's not like you couldn't knock out any guy who came at you. Ya don't have to kill them.'

Canderous flicked the cigarra into the water. He watched it as it sputtered out, the orange glow doused by the ocean of Manaan. 'Haat, Ijaa, Haa'it.' he muttered quietly, so softly that Mission wasn't sure if he had actually said it, or if she had imagined it.

Canderous turned to Mission, and she flinched involuntarily. Her life as a Tarisian street rat hadn't entirely left her.

'His name was Jagi,' Canderous said with finality, gaze intense. 'He broke our laws. That's all you need to know.'

Mission jumped down from the crate and walked over to the railing overlooking the water. She twisted her head to glace at Canderous. 'If that's what you wanna keep telling yourself, go ahead. I ain't gonna tell you otherwise.'

Canderous didn't respond. Mission looked at the skyline for another moment, then unhurriedly walked back towards the ship. A second before she entered, Mission snuck a look at Canderous. The Mandalorian had lit another cigarra and was sitting back, one large hand tapping against the side of the crate. He looked troubled.

Juhani stood by the door. She shot Mission a questioning glance as the Twi'lek passed by. Mission smiled cheekily and passed the Cathar without speaking. Juhani watched the Mandalorian for another moment, then shook her head, the beads in her hair tinkling in the sudden movement.

'Ya know, you should try giving Canderous a chance.' Mission's voice startled the Cathar. Apparently, Juhani hadn't realized that Mission was still standing in the doorway.

'I do not know what you are talking about.' Juhani responded coolly, one hand grasping at her robes nervously. Mission continued as if she hadn't heard the Jedi.

'I know he's all rough and morally questionable, but he's smart. He'll change.' She grinned again and flounced through the doorway. Juhani stared after her for a moment, expression disbelieving. She stared out at Canderous again. He still appeared to be deep in thought. Juhani sighed and turned to face the empty doorway, the disgust on her face slowly softening into a look of apprehension.

'Perhaps he will, Mission. Perhaps he will.'

Thanks, MissCora and Plutospawn! I couldn't have finished this without you two. :)