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The first time Carth Onasi lost his blaster, he took it hard. So hard that he would always remember the exact date that he lost it. Well, that wasn’t exactly true. There were plenty of reasons to remember that day, even without having lost his blaster, none of them good. It was lost on the day that Saul Karath betrayed him the Republic.
Trying to shift the rubble out of the way to reach his dying wife, spurred on by the pained moans of Morgana, he’d shucked his jacket and anything else that was weighing him down or might get caught on debris as he desperately scrambled to reach her on time.
He made it. The medics didn’t.
As they pried the Lieutenant away from he corpse of his wife, one of them handed him his jacket, he was too distracted by his grief to notice that they didn’t hand over any of his other possessions. He realised after leaving Telos that it was far far too late to go back and grab it. The blaster that had served him well through the entirety of the Mandalorian Wars was lost. Just like everything else in his life.
He bought the best blaster he could afford that was the closest approximation in make and model to replace it, and dutifully engraved his family’s symbol onto the side, musing as he did that the original blaster had been in his family for a few generations, and even these minor differences would constantly niggle at him in the front of his mind as a reminder that it would never be the same.
*
There were credits to be made on Telos’s surface, not just frivolously spent without regards to the ongoing viability of projects like these in rehabilitating the Republic. Really, it was doing everyone a favour to get the unsafe weapons catalogued for resale, or destroyed if unsellable. What chaos might be caused if some child accidentally dug up a blaster rifle once Telos was resettled? That’s what Jana Lorso was happy to tell anyone she could make listen.
Financially, the best use of her teams' time were weapons caches, but even scrap could be melted down and repurposed. Czerka employees swept restoration zones with metal detectors, collecting anything of value, or of no value so long as it held the potential of future value in it’s next life.
Still-functioning weapons out in the open were few, and a blaster with a distinctive insignia still protected by its holster was counted amongst their number, and then dumped without care into a storage crate near the entrance to one of the military bases.
*
'Another one?' Exile murmured to themselves as they picked through the weapons on offer, only to find another blaster with an identical insignia inscribed on it to one they’d collected off Peragus, although the make and model was only highly similar, rather than exactly the same.
'Did you say something, General?'
'Just talking to myself, Bao-Dur, don’t mind me.' They grabbed as many weapons as they could feasibly carry and shoved them in their pack - like Czerka, they were in desperate need of credits - making sure the distinctively-engraved blaster was among the ones taken.
*
On Dantooine the Jedi had just recruited Carth’s ensign for training with what he considered to be frankly insufficient consideration given the gravity of what was being asked of them. But if his soldier was fool enough to go along with whatever shady thing it was the Council wanted them for, well, he’d told them he’d never abandoned anyone on a mission before, and he wasn’t about to start now.
They’d just taken out a bunch of Mandalorian raiders, and he was acutely feeling the loss of his previous trusted blaster, even though his current one served him well enough through the Second Sith War, when they were set upon by a pack of kath hounds.
While the others ran up to meet the dogs with a reckless desire to fight within melee range, Carth internally congratulated himself for keeping out of danger while he concentrated on careful shots at the hounds nearest his former ensign, and the Wookiee and Twi’lek children they had managed to collect along the way.
Focussed as he was on the others, he didn’t notice one of the smaller pups sneak up and try to bite his hand until it was too late, causing him to accidentally drop the blaster. The kath pup was on it in a flash, collecting his weapon in its mouth and running off with it.
Carth attempted to give chase, but the overly excited pup got its tongue jammed in the trigger, and while shaking its head around, kept accidentally firing the thing in random directions, each shot startling the pup that couldn’t figure out it was the cause of the loud noise emanating near its face, increasing its excitement levels and the frequency and randomness of the trajectory of the shots until it was too unsafe to even consider approaching. If it had been his original family heirloom he might have risked it, but not for just any random blaster. He could pick up a new one from that Aratech dealer in the tiny spaceport.
He turned around to see the others had finished off the rest of the pack. Mission giggling at his predicament, Canderous shooting him an overly smug look, and his former ensign trying their best and failing not to snort in amusement at what they’d just witnessed. He considered it fortunate that at least Zaalbar didn’t care enough to react.
*
It was Gar’s lucky day! Not only had he convinced a Jedi to deal with the kath hounds and Mandalorians, but as he and Rilka were returning home they found a perfectly functional blaster laying abandoned in an open field.
'Not sure who would toss something like that away, whoever it was clearly doesn’t need it any more' he shrugged, picking it up.
'One way or another, that’s for sure” Rilka noted darkly'
~
Gar had a distinct empathy for his neighbour Jon’s earlier depression over the loss of his daughter Ilsa. He had watched Jon spend every spare minute patrolling the northern farms looking for whatever trouble he could throw himself into, and generally avoiding his concerned neighbours. If he managed to get even a sentence out of Jon, it was for him to vow that no-one else on this planet would suffer as he did, for as long as he could help it. Which was why Gar wasn’t surprised that Jon went out in a blaze of glory against the Sith occupiers.
Those bastards had killed Rilka, Gar now knew exactly what it was like to have nothing left, but he supposed that he wasn’t as brave as Jon. He kept his head down, and waited for them to leave.
There was nothing left for him on Dantooine, so he packed his belongings to try his luck elsewhere, anywhere that didn’t constantly and painfully remind him of that wonderful woman he had devoted most of his life to.
Being adrift in the galaxy as so many were during the wars, he eventually wound up on Nar Shaddaa. Big mistake. It was hard living, and he could find no viable employment. He started selling everything he brought with him one by one to that Duros merchant outside the refugee quad in order to afford even basic supplies.
Oh Rilka, I’ll see you again all too soon.
*
'You have the look of a Human who is looking for no cred-junk deals, yes, Human? No, no cred-junk here, only good-cred weapons, good-cred armor. No cred line, only cred up front for any item. Look, but do not look long, for I have many customers waiting.'
There were no customers waiting, contrary to the assertions of the merchant, so Exile took their time browsing the wares. Is that…? It is. Another blaster pistol with that distinct insignia. They hadn’t yet found the time to look up where it came from, but having sold all the other blasters they’d come across had the credits to spare, and fancied themselves perhaps a collector of the weapons of some long-dead army. It was nice to maintain some form of hobby in the face of total annihilation of everyone they ever knew by the Sith.
'How much for this one?'
'Fourteen thousand, six hundred credits.'
They’re worth how much? I mean, I know that they’re good quality blasters on their own, but seriously? Who were these people? And how much will I get from a collector if I manage to collect a decent set? 'A bit much for just a blaster pistol, don’t you think?'
Apparently that was the wrong thing to say to the Durosian male, and he started going off. 'What do you know, human?! You think sell business go elsewhere, to schutta not-male Rodian female? You are wrong!'
'Okay, fine, geez! That price is fine. What even is a schutta anyway?'
'Ask a Twi’lek' Atton helpfully supplied 'it’s not flattering.'
*
Hot was an understatement for the Dune Seas of Tatooine just beyond Anchorhead. Every movement had to be carefully considered to preserve energy, to avoid excess loss of water through sweat, and yet the desert wraid seemed intent on preventing that. They travelled in packs like the Dantooine kath hounds, and they were tough. Tough enough for the Jedi to be totally preoccupied with one each, leaving the rest free to attempt to take angry bites out of the non-Jedi.
'Damn it!' Carth yelled as he pulled his hand away from a snapping hulak wraid, just in time to keep his fingers, but lose his blaster. He reflexively punched the thing in the face, and then realised what a mistake that had been when it went in for another bite. He fell back behind Canderous. 'Don’t laugh' he ordered sternly, knowing full well the Mandalorian was going to do exactly that later, and probably right in his face.
Noticing it was the only one of its pack left, facing over half a dozen hostile sentients, the hulak wraid turned tail and ran. Carth considered chasing after it, but the heat and his own dehydration forced him to stay put. The rest of the crew could handle whatever was thrown at them even if he was forced to just stand back and throw grenades for the rest of the excursion at anything that wasn’t too close to any of the rest of them. If this is going to keep happening, perhaps I need a replacement and some spares. Carth hoped at least one of the weapons dealers in Anchorhead would have something of sufficient quality for his needs.
*
It was Tanis’ lucky day! A hulak wraid out by itself on the dunes? Easy pickings compared to the packs he normally found the things in. Or, comparatively easy pickings, it still managed to damage most of his droids before he could take the damn beast out. Oh well, that’s why he kept that shrew Marlena around. She could fix them.
~
It was Tanis’... whatever the opposite of luck day was. Karking day? Kriffing day? Whatever. Marlene had left him an 'anniversary gift', and then she left him for good. The sentients who rescued him couldn’t, or he suspected wouldn’t save his droids. And for what? All I did was make a pass at a fellow good looking Human. Some people are overly sensitive, geez. Now what am I to do? Try my luck at mining for Czerka? Wait... that might not actually be such a bad idea.
~
Mining for Czerka on Tatooine as it turned out, was such a bad idea. There was nothing worth anything out there, and he’d tried way longer than most. No, he was going to try his luck mining elsewhere. After all, nowhere could be as bad as Tatooine, right?
*
'Huh' Exile muttered to themselves as they sifted through some contraband weapons in the dormitory on Peragus. One particular blaster caught their eye. Better quality than the rest, and with a very carefully inscribed ornate insignia that they didn’t recognise, with only minor scratches that looked suspiciously like the teeth marks of a large predator. They weren’t sure where it came from, but shoved it in their pack with the rest of the things they’d collected. They had too few possessions and credits to their name after a decade in exile, it was worthwhile stopping to collect anything, of even dubious value, or in this case, of obvious value.
*
Individually, a tach wasn’t dangerous, but they sure were annoying. And agile. And somehow, his former-underling-turned-fearless-leader had managed to earn the ire of an entire nest of the little gremlins.
'Force damn it!' Carth yelled as he tried to fend off several of them jumping at him at once. One even managed to get ahold of his blaster, and retrieving the shiny prize it wanted, ran off with the surviving tachs in hot pursuit, equally coveting both the new prize and their lives.
'You right there, Onasi?' Canderous asked with too much amusement.
'Hey hey...' their leader intervened, unnecessarily walking between the two men and gesturing for them to calm down, fearing that things might escalate as they tended to whenever Canderous and Carth exchanged more than a handful of words.
Carth didn’t intend to justify the Mandalorian’s comments with a response this time. He just sighed heavily, and began rummaging through his pack for a spare blaster pistol.
*
'Did you hear? Mandalore’s helmet has been found, and he’s trying to reunite the clans.'
'Yeah, I haven’t heard much about the guy, except that he’s from Clan Ordo.'
'I heard he’s already beaten ten challengers in death matches!'
'Sounds unlikely- Haar’chak! These tach are just the worst, and so beneath my honour to waste time killing!'
'Seriously? It takes less than a second to deal with the little blighters, watch.' One of the Mandalorians pulled a grenade and threw it into the tach nest. Coveting a new shiny object, they all chased in after it.
'And… done. Hey, the blast uncovered something else... a blaster pistol.'
'Vod, give me a fully modified Mandalorian blaster any day. Just throw that in with the rest of the gear, we can sell it later.'
*
'You good?' Mandalore was watching his new Jetii’alor peruse the wares of the merchants stuck in the Iziz spaceport. 'If you’re really that desperate for a blaster I’m sure I can get one for you from my own stash. Do you even know how to fire one?'
'Yes' they replied indignantly. 'How much for this one?' they asked the merchant.
'Seventeen thousand, five hundred and twenty credits.'
'Seventeen- what? That’s three thousand more than I paid for the same blaster on Nar Shaddaa!'
That had Mandalore’s interest. Not only were they buying a blaster off a merchant he happened to know his verde often sold their spares to, but they apparently had several copies of the same… No. Onasi’s blaster? Seriously?
'Do you know him?'
'I've never met Margar before today.'
'Not the merchant, the man that blaster originally belonged to.'
'No... Do you?'
'Look, whatever you choose to waste your credits on is your business. Why don’t you pay the nice merchant your fourteen and a half thousand credits, and we can discuss this later.'
'But-!' Margar went to protest, but relented when the large Mandalorian turned their unwavering attention to him. 'Fourteen and a half thousand will be fine.'
*
Pack animals. I hate pack animals. Somehow Carth was not surprised that the tuk’ata chose him to swarm, avoiding the sentients with lightsabers and swords in favour of the one carrying the blaster that their minds didn’t understand actually did represent a potential threat to them. Although, not a threat to all of them at once, so perhaps they were smarter than he gave them credit for. Carth had the distinct fear that he was about to be overwhelmed any second, when once again he noticed at the last moment a set of sharp teeth aimed for his hand.
'Kriff!' he yelled, pulling his arm out of the way just in time, but dropping the blaster in the process. One of the pack animals darted for the blaster in case it was edible, and ran off towards the caves with the item it wanted for its next meal, only to realise on arrival that it was inedible, and dropping it, ran off to hunt something else.
*
'I don’t believe this' Exile muttered to themselves. 'Mandalore! How in the Force does one of Onasi’s blasters wind up on Korriban of all places?'
'Actually, this one has travelled the least distance for you to find it. I’ve seen him lose four of these things, I wouldn’t be surprised if he lost plenty more before and after I made his acquaintance. Frankly, I’m surprised you didn’t find the one on Dantooine, but I watched him lose them on Tatooine and Kashyyyk, as well as here.'
'Unbelievable.' Exile shook their head.
'Yeah, just be glad it’s a capable warrior like me you’re travelling with, rather than that clumsy space-jockey "soldier".'
'I’ll say.'
*
Exile was itching to get off Telos. They had to chase Kreia to Malachor V, and the longer they waited the more likely it was the old witch would kill herself out of spite, get killed by her former Apprentice that she was an expert at pissing off, or worse, simply die of old age. But they humoured the Admiral who had coordinated the Republic effort to save Telos. It would have been such a shame to have lost the Republic’s flagship rehabilitation program while defeating Nihilus, after all. They hoped most of what he was saying about his time travelling with Revan was irrelevant, because their thoughts were decidedly elsewhere.
'...And here you are, in the Ebon Hawk, without Revan.'
There was an expectant pause that Exile realised needed to be filled by them. Kark, I missed most of that. 'Revan’s ship?'
'Yes, wherever Revan went, your ship’s been there. If… if you return to that place, if you find some trace of Revan…'
They let go of the tiny breath they had been holding, apparently that had been an acceptable follow up question. 'Do you want me to tell you what I find?'
'No' he shook his head sadly.
'Oh! That reminds me, Mandalore mentioned that these belong to you.' The Admiral raised an eyebrow at them while they started rummaging through their pack, before presenting him with five blaster pistols of similar make and model, but identical Onasi family insignia.
Carth’s eyes grazed them until he spotted the original that he had lost almost a decade ago, returned to him in orbit over the very planet where it had been lost. 'I don’t believe it… Thank you. Thank you very much.'