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There had been a time when Fenn Rau considered himself honourable. When he had protected his planet with his life, served the galaxy and fought for those who couldn’t fight for themselves. He had made a name for himself, accomplished things he was proud of, engrained the name “Rau” in Mandalorian history.
And then the Empire attacked. Fenn had been skeptical of Bo-Katan, with her ties to Pre Vizsla and Death Watch, but he had been willing to give her a chance. When Clan Saxon overthrew her, forcing her to flee Mandalore, Fenn had considered her a coward. A Mand’alor was supposed to stand up and fight for their people, while Bo-Katan fled, never to be heard from again. Now that his ruler was gone, Fenn had one last thing left to protect: his people. The Protectors.
So he allied with the Empire. He tried to turn a blind eye to the happenings on Mandalore, the food shortages, the strict control put on their imports and exports, but it was difficult. He tried to focus on his job, protecting the space around Concord Dawn. Looking out for Rebels. It was, to say the least, uneventful. At least the Empire kept them fed, though rations were tight. Fenn tried to be happy. His men were his priority, he told himself. This was for the best.
“Sir!”
There was a woman, Teti, at the door to his tent. It was early morning. Fenn sat up, blinking the sleep out of his eyes. “What?”
Teti peeked in, face pale. “The ISB is on its way. It’s about Solas sir- Solas Jil. He-“ she cringed slightly. “Just come out, sir, he’ll explain.”
Fenn was out of his tent in five minutes, hurriedly putting on the pathetic remains of his armour, tucking his prized helmet under his arm, and walking quickly into the courtyard. Solas Jil, an honourable Protector in his late fifties, stood there with a few others, looking deeply ashamed and deeply afraid.
“Solas!” Fenn snapped, approaching him. “What have you done?”
Solas cringed. “I’m sorry, sir- I- my family on Mandalore- my daughter just had a baby, the rations just aren’t enough. They’re starving, sir. I tried to get them off-world. New names, a better chance for my grandson-“
“You forged papers?” Asked Fenn, unbelieving. “And the Empire found out?”
Solas nodded. He could hardly meet Fenn’s eyes. “I had to,” he said.
“Three minutes until ISB contact,” Teti said, checking her comm. “What should we do, sir? Jil’s actions are in alignment with Rebel activity- forgery as a method of hiding identity is taken very seriously by the ISB.”
Fenn looked at Solas, thinking. “Jil has been faithful to the Empire from the start,” Fenn said. “He has done his job as a Protector reliably. His actions were foolish, but he should not be charged for them. The situation can be resolved by his family receiving sufficient rations. I will talk to the officer. Teti, bring out a few more Protectors to greet the ship. They should be here soon.”
It had been a long time since the Empire visited. As the ship set itself down on the landing patch, Fenn couldn’t help but grow nervous. There weren’t many Protectors left, and he knew that the Empire considered them archaic and unnecessary. The only reason they were allowed to exist was because of their devotion to protecting the space around Concord Dawn from Rebel activity. It listened the Empire’s need to expend its own resources. But Fenn couldn’t afford to lose Solas He had a strong bond with his Protectors, and had known Solas for a long time now. The thought of handing him over made him sick.
The ramp of the ship slowly descended, and down stepped a familiar Imperial Officer dressed in the familiar black uniform and flanked by four stormtroopers. He smiled slightly as he saw Fenn, a smug, self-important smile. Fenn kept his face still. He couldn’t afford to display his distaste. This was a delicate situation.
“Gideon,” Fenn said. “What brings you to Concord Dawn so early in the morning.”
“Has your Lieutenant not told you?” Gideon smiled a bit wider. “I am here to arrest Solas Jil on the charge of treason. Hand him over, please.”
Behind Fenn, Solas cowered. “Would it not be simpler to simply give his family better rations?” Fenn demanded. “I need Solas here on Concord Dawn. He has been a loyal Protector for well over a decade, to have him arrested would be self-sabotage on the part of the Empire!”
Gideon narrowed his eyes. “Is that a threat?”
It might be, thought Fenn. He didn’t say it out loud, but evidently his face said enough.
“Right,” Gideon said. “Execute Solas Jil.” He raised a hand to the stormtroopers, who raised their weapons. Fenn’s stomach dropped.
Gideon, locking eyes, with Fenn, twitched his hand. The stormtroopers readied their blasters.
“Don’t do this,” growled Fenn, hand automatically moving to his blasters.
The hand moved, and before Fenn could think, the troopers had shot on Solas. As soon as he saw the flash of blaster bolts, Fenn drew his weapons and fired on the stormtroopers, killing two before Gideon drew his weapon and pointed it at Fenn’s head. Before Fenn could retaliate he felt Teti grab his arm.
“Al’verde!” She hissed. “Don’t.”
“You have just made a grave mistake, Mandalorian,” said Gideon, his tone even. “It seems your people are more treasonous than I thought. I would kill you here and now, but I suspect it would be far more painful to strip you of your identity. You are hereby exiled, Fenn Rau. No longer a Protector, no longer an Imperial. And now you are trespassing on Imperial space. I suggest you find a ship and leave.”
Fenn’s head was spinning. That couldn’t be what Gideon meant, surely. Leaving the Protectors? He had been with them since he was thirteen, this was his life. Without it he was nothing. Though he supposed that’s what Gideon wanted.
“Move, or I shoot,” said Gideon.
Maybe that would be preferable. Fenn stood still, staring at the officer. Behind him, Teti tugged his arm. Her voice wavered.
“Go, Fenn,” she pleaded.
He looked back at her, then relaxed his shoulders, nodding. “Lead them, Teti,” he said in a low voice. “I will be back.”
Fenn walked past Solas’ lifeless body towards the gathered ships. He did plan on returning. The Empire would regret this, and would have his Protectors back. It wasn’t up to Gideon to strip him of that title, and so as Fenn boarded his small fighter, he vowed to return and liberate his planet. He was a Protector of Concord Dawn, and nothing Gideon said would ever change that.
Sabine had never pictured herself alone, yet here she was. In leaving the Empire she had left her family, the protections granted by the name “Wren” stripped from her. And now that Ketsu was gone, she didn’t know what to do. The betrayal was fresh in her mind, stinging like a wound rubbed with salt every time she looked beside her and expected to see her friend. She had been on the run for around a week, and the solitude was beginning to get to her.
Now, she found herself on Draboon, planning her next move. Being so close to home was uncomfortable, though the planet was largely uninhabited, which is why she chose it. The looming threat of both the Empire and Black Sun had driven her into hiding, and no matter how much she hated being back in the Mandalore system, it was currently her best bet.
She sat in a quiet ravine building a small campfire to make her dinner on. Behind her was her ship which she and Ketsu had scrapped together to build something that fitted their needs. To anyone else, it would be a piece of scrap metal, but to Sabine, it was a lifeline. Sure, she had to repair it every two jumps, and she was worried every day that the engine was going to fail her completely, but it had held up so far. She would say that it was by the grace of Manda, but she wasn’t sure she was even entitled to that anymore.
Her comm pinged. It was her ship’s sensor (she had linked the two since she needed to be on high alert), and Sabine stood, climbing into the thing and sitting down at the controls. On the edge of the radar were two dots, fighter ships, one an Imperial scout and the other a small Mandalorian fighter. The Imperial ship seemed to be in pursuit, and Sabine watched closely as they circled Draboon, rapidly approaching her location. She held her breath. Why was the Imp chasing a Mandalorian ship? Weren’t the Mandalorians allied with the Empire? (Or, as she and Ketsu would have put it, under the influence of the Empire).
In theory, Sabine was invisible on comm scanners, but nevertheless, she watched with bated breath. Suddenly, the Mandalorian began a descent. Sabine couldn’t be certain, but it looked as if it had been hit. She swore. It was headed for the other side of the hill, not to far from where her ship was situated. Sabine hopped out, grabbing a handful of dirt and throwing it over the fire, then stamping it out. Using water would create too much steam, and she couldn’t afford the risk of being spotted.
Her comm pinged again. A distress signal. Looking up into the night sky, Sabine saw a streak of light, smoke, and then the flash of blue as a ship streaked through the sky, hitting the ground just a little ways away. It was a crash, that was certain, but it didn’t look like anything was on fire. Whoever was piloting was obviously very skilled. The distress signal was coming from the ship, and it was still pinging her.
She weighed her options.
The ship was obviously shot down by an Imperial. That was a good sign, it mean the pilot was a potential ally. But then again, checking the wreckage might make her a target for the Empire, if they sent scouts down to search for survivors. But on the other hand, there may be useful parts that she could use to mend her own ship. She made up her mind. She pulled on a cloak to hide her armour (in case she was mistaken for a hostile Mandalorian), grabbed her Westars, and headed up the ravine towards the crash site.
The ship was surprisingly intact. It wasn’t a long walk from her camp, and as she approached the site she could see movement inside, someone struggling to break free of the wreckage. Sabine hung back, hidden behind a rock formation around ten metres from the ship. As a large, armour-clad figure stumbled out of the ship, Sabine narrowed her eyes. A Protector. She was under the impression that the Protectors were allied with the Empire? What was one doing out by Draboon being shot down?
The man, now fully out of the ship, stumbled to the ground, leaning back on the ship and sighing deeply. It looked as if his ankle was injured, but Sabine couldn’t be sure. She shifted slightly, accidentally knocking a pebble to the ground, making the man look up. There was a tense pause before he spoke.
“I know you’re there,” he said in a gruff, exhausted voice. “Come out and state your intentions.”
Sabine put a hand on her Westar. He was injured, so posed little threat. Despite his size, Sabine figured she could take him out fairly easily. She stepped cautiously out of the shadows, eyes fixed on the man. As soon as she came into the clear, Fenn pulled out his Westar, pointing it at her.
“Hands off your weapon,” he warned. “Put yours down and I will put mine down. Who are you? Who do you work for?”
Sabine slowly took out her Westar, placing it on the ground in front of her, then raised her hands. “I’m not Imperial if that’s what you mean,” she said. “You’re a Protector, aren’t you? Why were you being chased by your own people?”
“Those aren’t my people,” Fenn said bitterly. He narrowed his eyes at her Westar, now laying on the ground between them. He lowered his carefully. “You’re Mandalorian, but not with the Empire. Are you House Kryze?”
Sabine scoffed. She hadn’t heard the name Kryze since her time in the Imperial academy. It was infamous there, used as an example of treason. “House Vizsla,” she said. “Why was that Imp chasing you?”
“House Vizsla?” Fenn growled. Suddenly his Westar was raised again, pointed directly at Sabine’s head. “You mean that you’re a traitor. Death Watch!”
“Hey, calm down!” Sabine said, raising her hands once more. “My mother was Death Watch, but I was raised in the Empire! Death Watch was dissolved a long time ago, you should know that! Listen, if you’re being hunted by the Empire we have something in common! I’m taking a risk being anywhere near Mandalore, I haven’t been here in at least a year!”
“Your house is an enemy of the Protectors,” Fenn said through gritted teeth. “Traitors to Mandalore. That you even associate with that monster all these years after-“
“What are you going to do about it?” Sabine demanded. “Shoot me? Or chase after me with that injured foot? Are you going to kill me? Would a Protector really stoop as low as to kill a child? I haven’t associated with Mandalore for months, let alone my own family! So yeah, maybe I was born into House Vizsla, whatever that means to you, but I’m hardly even a Mandalorian anymore, so what does it matter? I came here to answer your distress signal and now you’re pointing a blaster at my face! I guess I should have expected that, you can’t trust anyone these days. Everyone I care about betrays me, so why should a stranger do any different?”
She didn’t realize there were tears in her eyes until she felt one drip off her face, landing on the dust beneath her feet, the most moisture the ground had likely seen in months. Fenn stared at her, brow furrowed. Slowly, he lowered his blaster.
He spoke quietly. “The Empire is after you?”
Sabine shrugged, defeated. “I don’t know. Probably. Every encounter I’ve had with them has been hostile. I’ve had to encrypt my comm scanners to stop them from tracking me, I’m pretty sure if I’m discovered I’ll be arrested. And the Black Sun-“
“The Black Sun?” Fenn’s eyes widened. “You’re wanted by the Black Sun?”
“My… my former friend betrayed me for them,” said Sabine. “I try to stay as far away from them as I can.”
She blinked, confused, as Fenn extended a hand. “Rau,” he said. “I’m Fenn Rau. Former Protector of Concord Dawn. The Empire exiled me for defending one of my men. I would be willing to put our differences aside, if you would trust me.”
Sabine stared at the hand, unsure if this was a trick. It had to be a trick. The man was threatening to shoot her not a minute ago. “What are you offering?” She asked cautiously.
Fenn chuckled, hand still outstretched. “Protection. I’m a Protector. You said the Empire is after you, well I’ve just been freshly exiled. Our situations are quite similar. And you are a child. I can’t imagine how hard it’s been without anyone to look after you. Don’t give me that look, it’s a dangerous galaxy out there, especially for people like us. I have your back, you have mine. We’re both exiled Mandalorians, we might as well make the best of it.”
That’s what Ketsu had said. Right before she left Sabine for dead. Sabine continued to stare at his hand.
“I can see you’re going to need some time to think about this,” Fenn said, lowering his hand. “How about this: you help me repair my ship and lend me some bacta patches for my ankle. Then we’ll see how you feel about it in the morning.”
It was a terrible idea, Sabine knew. She shouldn’t be trusting this strange man, but something in her felt awful about the thought of leaving him alone, injured like this. She sighed. “Fine. You can stay the night with me. I have food and bacta patches. And I’ll do what I can for your ship. But tomorrow you’re out of here. Understood? You’re lucky I haven’t killed you yet.”
Fenn smirked. “You really are House Vizsla. Don’t worry about my ship, I crashed it purposefully to throw off the lucky Imp who managed to land a shot on me. At most the landing gear will need readjusting. I used to fly for the Republic, I’m no amateur.”
“The Republic?” Sabine raised her eyebrows.
“I’ll tell you more about that over dinner,” said Fenn, putting a hand on the ship behind him and painfully hoisting himself to his feet. “I could use a hand getting back to your ship.” He looked at her expectantly.
Sighing deeply, Sabine allowed Fenn to put an arm over her shoulder, supporting his weight. He was lucky she was as strong as she was, but still it was an effort to keep him upright the whole way back to her camp. He raised his eyebrows as he laid eyes on her ship.
“And what class of ship is that?” He asked.
Something in Sabine lurched as she remembered the day that she and Ketsu had assembled the thing. They had been so proud of it. It was like their baby, or at least it was to Sabine. Ketsu had left it with her in favour of a newer, better ship supplied to her by Black Sun.
“It’s an Onyo-Wren class transport,” said Sabine.
Fenn sensed her discomfort. “And would you be Onyo or Wren?”
“Wren,” Sabine said, throat tight. “I’m Sabine Wren.”
Fenn looked down at her, sympathetic. “Clan Wren is formidable. I don’t suppose your mother would be Ursa Wren? You said she was in Death Watch.”
“Yeah,” muttered Sabine. “She’s my mother. If I can call her that anymore.”
Sabine looked up, surprised, as Fenn gripped her shoulder reassuringly. He said nothing, so Sabine continued to help him towards the camp, where he sat down heavily against the ship. Sabine clambered inside to find her med kit.
What a broken galaxy we live in, he thought. Sabine couldn’t be older than fifteen, though Fenn supposed it wasn’t unusual for Mandalorians to get mixed up in things like this so young.
Not that it was in any way right.
“Take off your boot,”
Fenn startled, looking up at Sabine, who was now standing beside him with her med kit, and then leaning down to take the boot off his injured ankle. Once the bare skin was exposed, Sabine knelt beside him and applied a bacta patch. It was cool soothing against his skin, and Fenn could feel the bacta working on his damaged tendons. Sabine got to her feet once more.
“I’ll have to rebuild the fire,” she said, looking at the small pile of twigs charred twigs on the ground that used to be her fire. “I have enough rations for both of us, but you’ll owe me from your supply. I’ll fix your ship after dinner. Then in the morning, you leave.”
Knowing he wasn’t going to convince her to let him stay just yet, Fenn nodded. “Of course. Where are you headed next?”
“To get fuel,” Sabine said, kneeling to relight the fire. “And food. Stop being so nosy or I may change my mind about helping you.”
“What are you going to do, re-sprain my ankle?” Fenn asked, raising an eyebrow.
Sabine glared. “Just keep your mouth shut.”
Through a poorly concealed smirk, Fenn suppressed a chuckle. She had so much bravado. It reminded him of how he was at her age, though her demeanour was a lot more serious than his had been. He recalled what he had been taught as a cadet as he watched Sabine light the small bundle of tinder. The role of a Protector is to create and preserve a Mandalore that will house many happy, prosperous Mandalorians for years to come. He had failed in that aspect, he realized. Because here was Sabine, mature beyond her years, abandoned by her people and reluctant to trust even him.
The fire was built, crackling quietly in front of the pair, and Sabine placed the pot of food carefully over it and sat heavily beside Fenn. She glanced over at him. If she was honest, she was terrified of him. Terrified he was still working for the Empire, that he had been sent to capture her. To bring her back to Mandalore and continue work on the projects she had been involved in at the Academy. The longer she sat beside him though, the more she relaxed. If the Empire wanted her they would have come directly, hauled her away in a transport, not sent a pathetic Protector down to gain her trust. Not that she trusted him.
Eventually, Fenn’s breathing evened out, and Sabine looked over to find that he had fallen asleep. She wondered how long he had been up, how long ago it had been since he had left Concord Dawn. She checked her Westar by her hip, then leaned forwards to stir the pot of food. It was unlikely they would be found, but if they did, Sabine would protect Fenn. There wasn’t much thought put into that decision, it just seemed like the natural thing to do. Of course, she would get him to leave first thing in the morning, as soon as his ship was repaired. But for now Sabine would make him dinner and watch the shadows dance at the edge of camp, alert for any signs of potentially hostile life.
Their camp was invisible from space, but on the outer atmospheric edge of Draboon, a ship circled, undetected by Imperial scouts. It had been tracking a scrapped-together transport a few days now, and the crash of a Mandalorian ship on the surface near their target interested them. It was too early to determine if it was safe to approach yet, so for now, they watched.
Fenn awoke as the first rays of sun fell down into the canyon, hitting his eyes and rousing him from his sleep. He was sore and stiff from sleeping sitting upright, but his ankle no longer hurt when he twisted it back and forth experimentally.
The camp was empty, last night’s fire long burnt out, and Sabine nowhere to be found. Her ship was still there, so either she was repairing Fenn’s ship, or she had stolen it. He got to his feet slowly, his joints stiff, but as he put weight on his ankle he was pleased to find that it didn’t seem to be injured anymore. The bacta had done its job. He checked that his Westars were still on his hips and then made his way up the path that Sabine had walked with him last night, back to his ship.
To his relief, it was still there, and he could see Sabine on the roof of it with a toolkit open beside her. She had her helmet on and seemed to be working with a small soldering torch. She looked up as he approached, stopping her work.
“I was wondering when you’d be up,” she said. “The ship’s nearly finished.”
“I was worried you had run off with it,” said Fenn, teasing. “I would give you credits but I’m afraid I wasn’t permitted to take any when I left.”
“You can repay me by leaving,” Sabine pulled off her helmet, squinting at her work. “I’m almost done.”
“What about protection?” Fenn asked. “Some assurance of survival? I could repay you with that.”
Sabine glared, tightening a bolt with what was clearly pent-up frustration. “What makes you think I need your help so badly? I can handle myself.”
“How old are you?” He asked.
Sabine didn’t answer. Her eyes stayed focused on the bolt she was now tightening.
Fenn sighed. “Look. I can’t claim to know how you’re feeling right now. But I do know that you don’t hate me as much as you’re pretending to. You helped me. Let me help you. I won’t try to replace the people you’ve lost, that’s not what I want. To be honest, I don’t like the thought of being alone either. So if it makes you feel any better, my motives are partially selfish.
“Fine!” Sabine slammed the wrench down onto the metal roof of the ship. “You can come with me! But only for a few days, I’ll find a station to drop you off on! Besides, your ship is better than mine. Are you happy now?”
Fenn breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes. Thank you. You won’t regret this, I promise.”
“We’ll see.”
“Osik,” Sabine emerged from her ship, nearly tripping as her feet hit the ground. It was noon now, and Fenn was having lunch. Sabine had been planning out a route for them for the past hour or so. “An Imperial salvage ship’s entered the system thirty minutes ago. I don’t know how I missed it, but they’re dangerously close to the planet now. I think they’re looking for your ship, Protector.”
“They’re running low on Mandalorian ship parts,” he muttered, shovelling the last of the food into his mouth before getting to his feet. “Hard to find a good Mandalorian mechanic outside of Sundari these days, and they have to power a whole system’s worth of ships. They’ll be narrowing in on us soon. Come on. We have to go.”
There was a glint in the sky. Sabine sucked in a lungful of air. “They’ve found us.”
“Come on,” Fenn grabbed an armful of supplies, headed for Sabine’s ship.
“No!” Sabine put a hand on his shoulder, looking at the sky. She grimaced. “Your ship. Let’s go.”
Before he could protest, she had darted inside, grabbed as many supplies as she could carry, and pushed him away from camp. Fenn kept pace with her as best he could. He trusted her intuition.
“The ship passed over your crash site,” Sabine explained. “They’ve spotted my ship, I don’t think they’ve seen yours yet.” There was an edge to her voice.
“What about your ship?” Fenn asked. They were nearing his now.
“Let them have it,” said Sabine through gritted teeth. “Yours is better anyways.”
It was, Fenn realized, a turning point for her. That ship was all she had left of Onyo, of her past life. Leaving it would be admitting defeat, admitting that her friend wasn’t coming back to her. It was also a tremendous display of trust. They boarded Fenn’s ship, closing the hatch as quickly as possible. Fenn practically threw himself into the pilot’s seat, booting up the engines. Ideally, he would be able to test the systems before launching. It seemed they would have to skip that step. He turned on the cloaking. It was rudimentary but it was the best chance they had.
Sabine settled herself into the copilot seat as the ship lifted off. They could see the remains of the camp now, the fire still lit, Sabine’s scrapped-together ship tucked against the rocky wall. And they could also see the Imperial ship, which seemed to not have noticed them yet. It was locked onto the camp, probably scanning for signs of life. Sabine’s ship wasn’t exactly discrete, and Fenn realized that they probably thought it was a Rebel vessel.
“What are they doing?” Sabine muttered, voice tense.
Then there was a flash, a bang, and a small ball of fire as her ship exploded. Fenn pulled back on the controls of the ship, accelerating them forwards as quickly as he could manage. They breached the atmosphere, he ran some calculations, then pushed the ship into hyperspace before Sabine could process what just happened.
He looked over at her. Sabine sat motionless, staring out at the streaks of light in the sky.
“It’s gone, then.”
Whether she meant the ship or her old life it was hard to tell, but the next thing Fenn knew the girl had turned her chair and thrown herself into his arms, sobbing. He was caught off-guard, but then carefully put his hands on her back, lowering his head. Fenn had never been good with children, or with emotions. It seemed that now was the time to learn.
“It’s okay,” he muttered. “I won’t leave you. I promise.”
And though she hadn’t quite decided if she trusted Fenn to stay yet, Sabine felt a sense of security. After all that time alone, it was good to have someone else again.
They emerged from hyperspace an hour later. Fenn didn’t know exactly where they were, so he run some calculations and found they were still in the outer rim, and hopefully far away from any Imperial scouts. He allowed himself to relax. Sabine was still seated beside him, feet now up on the controls. Fenn didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. The cockpit was silent as he tried to formulate their next move.
A comm ping. Fenn checked the frequency to make sure it wasn’t Imperial, then answered.
“Ghost to Mandalorian vessel,” said a female voice. “Identify yourself.”
Fenn looked to Sabine. She shrugged.
“Are you Imperial?” Fenn asked cautiously.
“Negative,” replied Ghost. “And we know you aren’t either. We’ve been keeping an eye on you, you’re on the run from the Mandalorian system, correct?”
“We are,” said Fenn. “What do you want?”
“We want to refuel your ship and offer you a deal,” the woman sounded very satisfied with herself. “Any enemy of the Empire is an ally to us, and I think you could be a real asset to our cause.”
Fenn looked to Sabine again. She didn’t look sold, but the fuel gauge was running low and he knew that half their rations had been blown up back on Draboon. He could hold his own in a fight, and the ship’s signal wasn’t Imperial.
“Affirmative, Ghost,” he said. “Give us coordinates and we’ll meet up. Be warned that we are armed and willing to defend ourselves at the earliest sign of trouble.”
“We know,” Ghost said. “You’re Mandalorians. Sending coordinates now.”
Numbers blinked onto the holopad on the control panel, and Fenn glanced over at Sabine.
“Trust me,” he said.
Sabine narrowed her eyes, but nodded. “I’ve got your back.”
With a small smile, Fenn booted up the engines again and directed the ship to the meeting point. “And I have yours.”
