Cenobium - A Star Wars Fan Fiction

by Colin A S Smith

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... A Mandalorian seeks to lay to rest the last of the ghosts of a past - a past that saw him wear the armour of Death Watch and The Shadow Collective. A 'pilot episode' story featuring all-new (original) characters, written in 2015.

Cenobium - A Star Wars Fan Fiction

-1-

The Spice Run was a lively cantina. Discretely segregated, its screens and holopads showed a variety of sporting events and current affairs for distinctly different audiences. To a casual observer nothing untoward might be apparent, but to someone more knowledgeable...

Tall and willowy, dressed for the inclement weather conditions and thus mostly concealed from prying eyes by a heavy and hooded cloak, she slid into a booth to sit opposite a relatively unkempt male human - all beard and braids and utilitarian clothes - and set down two drinks on the table between them, casually sliding one in his direction.

He didn't react to her presence, merely continuing to do whatever it was he was doing with the datapad he was consulting.

"I'm looking to charter a vessel and crew," she said coolly, just loudly enough for him to have heard her over the ambient noise of the cantina. "I'm told you may be the best... locally."

The little sting, added after a beat, failed to elicit a reaction either. A slow smile crept across her face, but she kept it carefully guarded.

Eventually, amidst the ebb and flow of the noise of the cantina, he set down and closed his datapad, and then sampled the drink she had brought. As he did so, he raised a closed fist, palm out.

"First," he said, raising one finger as he did so, "this is a rather splendid beverage - my personal favourite in this particular venue as it happens - which means you've spoken to Wha Chu."

Setting the drink down, he raised another finger.

"Second: it's also expensive, so you're either attempting to discreetly show your worth or you're trying to buy passage in an unconventional way." He paused and actively considered the woman sat before him for the first time. "Which I wouldn't find surprising."

Beneath her cowl, the woman raised her eyebrows, amused.

"Meanwhile," she countered, "I appear to have been accurately informed of your capabilities."

It was the man's turn to raise an eyebrow, questioningly.

She nodded toward the datapad. "You are detail- and goal-oriented; you are focussed and not easily distracted; and, contrary to what I surmise to be a carefully-cultivated outward appearance, you appreciate - nay, value - quality and discretion."

The man settled back into his seat a little, nonchalantly reappraising the women sat before him, and then shrugged.

"I think you have the wrong person," he said, and slid out of the booth. "But thanks for the drink."

He finished the drink in a single swallow and, taking his datapad, left the booth and the woman.

Momentarily incredulous, then slowly becoming angry, the woman watched him weave his way through the cantina's patrons.

And then her commlink pinged discreetly.

Hanger 616. The Mourning Star. At your convenience.

Her anger suddenly turned to begrudging admiration.

"Oh," she whispered, "you're very good indeed."

---

-2-

Kiera mulled over what she'd learned of her potential pilot whilst she traversed the rain-washed walkways of the former capitol, remarkably invisible despite the garish lights and crowded surroundings. Few private vessels used actual hangars on Coruscant, save for in a handful of districts and then only those pilots or owners with the right contacts. Most vessels and pilots used open platforms, but an actual hangar suggested a level of professionalism that further enhanced what Wha Chu - the incredibly discreet Twi'lek at The Spice Run - had told her.

She ascended and descended numerous levels en route to the nearest hangars, as much out of habit as necessity. Not once did she sense she was being observed let alone followed, not that she made any effort to go unobserved.

The hangar numbers in this district started, as she'd surmised, at 600, and their pattern was quickly discernible.

Hangar 616 was, however, locked.

She snorted once, and then cast her gaze toward the discreet camera overlooking the entrance. Drawing her sleeve up, she quickly tapped a brief message into her commlink.

Knock knock.

The camera made a slight noise - a mechanical zoom mechanism perhaps, or an iris opening - and then the door's locking mechanisms audibly disengaged.

Stepping through, the door closed and re-secured behind her.

---

-3-

The Mourning Star was a sight to behold. At first glance it was just another YT-1300, and that was all anyone was supposed to do: just glance. Being subjected to anything more than a cursory inspection caused the façade to evaporate instantly.

She - weren't all ships she? - had been built to resemble an essentially stock YT-1300, and might even have had at her core the basic modular building blocks of the ubiquitous Corellian freighter, but she also appeared to share more than a little of her heritage with something that might have come from the old Republic or Imperial shipyards. Beyond that, she was maybe half as big again as she was 'supposed' to be, with her cargo mandibles being at least twice the usual length and of a far sturdier build and design - a charge easily levelled at the whole of the vessel, easily being to a YT-1300 what that vessel would be to a YT-1000.

But The Mourning Star wasn't just bigger and sturdier: she was sleeker too.

Flat or subtly angled plating covered the majority of her hull where conduit or mechanisms might otherwise show, giving the impression of her being more of a yacht than a freighter whilst also hinting at the speed she might possess. The subtlety of the plate angling and the increase in relative size of the her hull even went as far as to almost hide the bulk of the protruding docking rings, something which, due to their very nature, couldn't be changed.

If she'd been made of polished wroshyr wood instead of an apparently dull metal Kiera would have surmised this was a ship built by and for Wookiees.

The sound of servos heralded the lowering of the ship's gantry directly behind the cargo mandibles, and metallic footfalls signalled the arrival of a droid.

But why would a pirate or smuggler have need of a…

… protocol droid?

Kiera held her breath momentarily as the droid's legs came into view - it walked with a digitigrade stance, and she held strong memories - learned by rote as a child - of cybernetic terrors that had shared such an attribute.

As the rest of the droid became visible Kiera exhaled quietly. Much like the vessel it emerged from, the droid bore the hallmarks of an older ubiquity remade anew: in another era it might have worn armour and wielded an electrostaff or…

No, Kiera corrected herself.

It… But she was lost, there being an air of familiarity to the droid which she simply couldn't place.

"You wish to charter a vessel and crew," it said, its mellifluous tone suggested both a question and a statement. "Please follow me."

Ascending the gantry Kiera found herself further bemused. The interior of The Mourning Star mirrored its exterior, it being sleek and spotless but also bright and airy, and she found herself wondering what kind of a pirate or smuggler Wha Chu had set her up with.

Sat in what was ostensibly the ship's crew lounge was the man from The Spice Run, looking no more or less unkempt than he had in the cantina, despite clearly beating her to the hangar.

"3L," he said, looking to the droid, "would you make us secure… if you haven't already." He smirked as he spoke, as if sharing a joke with the droid.

"The hatch is secured," replied the droid without hesitation. "We are a silent shadow."

The droid's turn of phrase gave Kiera pause. It sounded almost…

Turning to Kiera, the man continued: "And if I might return the gesture, I keep some Corellian brandy onboard -" He held up his glass "- and there may be some Ebla or lum if either of those would be preferable."

"No. Thank you," replied Kiera.

The man shrugged. "To business then. Firstly: what has Wha Chu told you about me?"

Kiera was momentarily nonplussed.

"Nothing, beyond her assertion that you are the epitome of discretion and professionalism; she might also have called you 'the most honourable man I know'."

The man grunted, but failed to hide the briefest flicker of a smile with his glass.

"She didn't even give you a name?"

"'Names are for warrants' were her exact words," replied Kiera, and the man nodded.

"Which brings us to: who or how many; when and for how long; and, most importantly, where to?"

"Just myself. Sooner would be good; soonest would be better, but I understand it's not as if you can just take off right at this moment -" The man might have made as if to suggest otherwise "- as I've no real estimate of how long."

The man nodded, setting down his glass.

"So far you've told me everything I've asked you to and still managed to tell me absolutely nothing. That, if you'll permit me to say, is a rare gift… if it's deliberate."

"Malachor."

"And swearing isn't going to change my opinion of you."

"The planetary system."

The man took a deep breath and let it back out again as a ragged sigh, and even the droid - 3L - noticeably stiffened.

"Spast! That's not a place many know about; fewer still know where it is; I don't doubt none that do are eager to go there a first time… let alone a second time…"

Kiera said nothing in reply.

The man leaned forward. "So tell me why I should consider this contract rather than simply - and politely - telling you to leave? But if you're answer is 'Rot in Qasak!' or something equally profane…"

Kiera had wondered if their conversation might take this turn and had prepared accordingly.

"I'm a Dathomirian Nightsister, and…"

"No," the man stated firmly, cutting her off. "You're not. They were all killed during the Clone Wars."

Kiera maintained her composure. "I'm the last."

"And I'm supposed to believe that why? For a start, you're not old enough to be a Nightsister. Even if you'd left Dathomir as a child, before…" The man paused, considering his words carefully. "The Separatists didn't leave any survivors. Trust me: I know."

"True," Kiera conceded, giving the briefest and slightest of nods. "But there were Nightbrothers and Nightsisters not on Dathomir at the time."

The man didn't know that to be true - not for certain, at any rate - but he could hazard a more than educated guess on her statement being at least partially accurate… not that he was going to say so, one way or the other. "And you're not one of them," he said instead, as politely as he could, "not unless you've spent the majority of your life floating in a bacta tank."

"That wouldn't guarantee longevity… would it?"

The man actually laughed at that, finally leaning back.

"It might do, but I won't know for another twenty or thirty years, Kad Ha'rangir willing." He reached for his glass and took another sip. "You might well be Dathomirian by heritage, I'll give you that, and you might even by Dathomirian by birth - a lot might have changed since the Clone Wars, and I haven't really had cause to cross the Hydian Way in that particular direction in a long time - but that doesn't make you a Nightsister."

Kiera made as if to reply, but the man held his free hand up, causing her to bristle.

"However, you're statement to the contrary was meant to lead into something that would justify your charter, and I was impolite to not hear you out before making any statement of my own, for which I apologise."

The man took another sip of his Corellian brandy and set the glass down once more.

Kiera took this as a sign she was to continue, but her hackles were still raised, so she gestured toward the glass - he gave the subtlest of nods - and she took a mouthful rather than a sip. He gave her a conciliatory shrug by way of reply, and she set to regaining her composure.

"You may be correct, in that there may be no true Nightsisters left, but it is my heritage and I mean to make good on that. To do so, I need to find those who remain who are - or were - a part of it."

"And Malachor fits this personal quest of fulfilment and enlightenment how?"

Kiera ignored the subtle sarcasm in the man's question.

"Malachor is where the last known Nightbrother was sighted."

The man nodded. Any trail had to have a beginning, no matter how unpleasant it might be, and there were surely worse starting points than a dead planet nowhere near any of the established hyperspace lanes or trade routes - if his memory served him.

"How long ago?" he asked cautiously.

"Long enough that it's probably a worthless excursion."

"How long ago?" he asked again, already fearing he knew the answer to this and another as yet unasked question.

"It was before the Battle of Yavin."

The man shook his head. "How long before?"

"Three or four years."

"So… You're searching for a Nightbrother last seen almost forty years ago on a planet most people don't even know exists. And how much of this did you tell Wha Chu, because I'm beginning to wonder why it was she bothered to send you to me…"

Kiera maintained her composure in the face of the man's outburst.

"I told her I was looking for a pilot who might know the whereabouts of Malachor. She thought Malachor was a… person, until I explained that I was searching for a person who had been on Malachor, and then she asked me who that person was - as if a bar keep on Coruscant would recognise the name of someone they likely never even met from forty or more years ago. So I told her.

"I said 'I'm searching for a Dathomirian Zabrak Nightbrother named Maul'."

The man's shoulders sagged, and the glass he'd been lifting to his lips dropped back to the surface of the table - Kiera managed to catch it and right it before it tipped over - and his breathing became ragged, remaining that way for several moments; all the while there was a faraway look in his eyes.

Eventually he closed his mouth, licking his lips as he did so, and gave Kiera a brief nod.

"Put your affairs in order, as if you don't expect to be coming back… ever. My fee is one hundred thousand credits, non-negotiable, all upfront. 3L will supply you with all of the necessary details."

Kiera was incredulous.

"What kind of smuggler charges that much for a charter?!"

The man's face hardened.

"If you'd simply wanted passage Wha Chu would have sent you to any one of a dozen throttle jockeys who would have charged you less than a quarter of that - and they would still have been over-charging you - and would probably have sold you on to the highest bidder at the first hint of trouble.

"But, instead, she sent you to me because you tried to be clever and tell her exactly what she asked you to, without you even thinking that she might actually know more about it than you apparently do. And it's because of that that I can't in good conscience turn you down… but this ship and all of the droids on board mean more to me than you can imagine so I'm going to do right by them as well as you.

"Because I'm not a smuggler - least ways not the kind you're thinking of - and I'm certainly not some pirate - a privateer, once, maybe. What I am, in fact, is none of your business, but what I will be is what you're going to pay me for, and one hundred thousand credits gets you a Dathomirian Zabrak Nightbrother named Maul… or his final resting place."

---

-4-

Kelev Ra scrolled through the datapad's databases whilst he talked to Wha Chu via The Mourning Star's secure comms channel.

"You sent that girl to me deliberately, Chu."

Her shrug was practically audible. "You've been hunting redemption for fifty years, Ra. Between then and now you became one of the best bounty hunters the galaxy has seen. And you stayed honourable too, which a lot of hunters don't. You might be retired, but no one ever puts all of their guns away."

"Some people won't let me," he grunted, but he was smiling as he said it.

"You drink in my bar. You school anyone who needs it if my boys aren't up to the task. I'm not going to say you haven't missed a step or two in the years since you hung up your holsters, Ra, but that's only to be expected…" She chuckled heartily. "And there's not one of my boys don't hope to be as good as you when they get to your age."

"Smooth, Chu."

"What?! You've got beskar flowing through your veins, old man, and you're getting the chance to lay the last of your ghosts to rest when most men your age are dreaming of nothing more than still having a wife, home, and job at the end of their vacation."

"3L's made all of the arrangements then?" Kelev asked, idly flicking through the datapad's astrogation charts.

"Sure, Leet transferred the funds from your charter - who's called Kiera Nys'a, by the way, which is rather a nice name - along with the titles and deeds for The Mourning Star and The Range. All to be held in escrow, just like old times."

"Yeah," Kelev sighed. "Old times."

"Ra, I'd tell you not to worry, but we both know that wouldn't achieve anything. Go, do what you do and do it well, and when you come back we'll lay on a feast for you people will talk about for a year after… once you get out of the bacta tank!"

"If I come back…"

Wha Chu snorted.

"You talk like that, Kelev Ra, and I'll send your daughter after you to make sure you come back!"

It was Kelev's turn to chuckle. "You're a heartless bantha, Chu."

"Funnily enough, that's what your daughter calls me too, Ra. And she'd probably call you worse if she knew…"

"What? That I'm taking a contract that's almost out in the Corporate Sector and I'm not planning on visiting The Range while I'm there?"

Wha Chu sighed. "Oh, Ra. Some days you're can be a real moof-milker!"

"And here I was thinking that was part of my charm. I'll check in with you later, okay? Gotta prep'."

Kelev Ra reached out and killed the commlink.

---

-5-

The first rays of sun were clawing their way over the Coruscanti horizon as Kiera returned to Hangar 616. Regardless of the time, the air was still awash with a wide variety of speeders, 'though Kiera chose to walk whenever and wherever possible. It wasn't necessarily the wisest of policies in certain parts of Galactic City, but she'd never fallen foul of anything other than random vocalisations of whatever species was close enough and loud enough to be heard.

She still lived with her parents - not uncommon amongst young twentysomething Coruscantis - but their relationship might be best described as co-habitants rather than familial, so there were no questions when she strolled in late and began packing. Her parents had both been incredibly supportive of her 'heritage quest' - as she'd called it - and aside from the briefest of conversations over a warm drink and a cold snack - specifically: where she was going and how long she expected to be away - they had little to say on the matter, since they were going off-world the next day too. Perhaps that was just the nature of their family, she wondered: had there been bonds of blood then maybe her parents would have been more concerned, more protective.

Oh, how they'd looked as a family when she'd been younger: a Chagrian, an Umbaran, and a little Dathomiri... 'though everyone had doubtless seen the pale-skinned little girl as being Umbaran, just like her adoptive mother.

The advantage of a familial home in this instance was that, despite what The Mourning Star's captain had said, she didn't have to pack as if she were never going to return: a change of clothes; her 'heritage quest' journal; her collapsible dance baton; a few snacks, and a bottle of water. She had a compact datapad with her, too, loaded up with HoloNet clips and enough music to keep her dancing from dawn 'til dusk and back again if the need arose.

She was familiar enough with the landscape to have several different routes in mind as she appeared to meander her way through the early morning crowds, yet despite appearances meandering was not what she was doing. Every so often her senses would prickle and she would feel the need to change tack, either allowing herself to be swallowed by the crowd as it flowed in the opposite direction or suddenly stopping to view something which had apparently caught her attention...

This method led her unmolested to her first port of call - the train station - with the train then bringing her quickly and relatively quietly to the district containing both The Spice Run and Hangar 616. Thereafter, she retraced her steps from the night before - allowing for any sudden desire to 'meander' - until she found herself looking patiently but pointedly at the camera outside Hangar 616.

When the door opened, she was greeted by the protocol droid.

"3L?"

"Good morning, Miss Nys'a. A pleasure to see you again."

Kiera was momentarily taken aback by the droid's greeting - not once had she mentioned her name, nor had she been asked for it - but, logically, once the financial transaction had taken place her identity was an open secret to everyone involved.

With that logic exercise completed, their walk from the doorway of the hangar to the ship's gantry afforded Kiera an opportunity to fully appreciate the droid's appearance for the first time.

By and large, protocol droids were designed and built to reflect the general appearance of their masters and in a human-centric galaxy that usually meant a generally human appearance. There were exceptions, of course: the LOM series bore a passing resemblance to the Gand, and the RA-7 series were likewise vaguely insectoid, but both were essentially humanoid.

3L was undeniably humanoid, too, but idiosyncratically so.

As Kiera had already noted, the droid's legs appeared to have too many joints when, in reality, it was a toe-walker rather than being flat-footed, and it was its 'ankle' that gave that appearance. Under less than casual scrutiny the droid's hands also appeared other than human, either by virtue of each digit being too long or having too many joints - a distinction Kiera was unable to make without deliberate or up close observation, neither of which she felt entirely comfortable with at present.

Its body plating was another mild conundrum. Most humanoid droids were effectively closed units, one way or another, either with sealed but essentially empty plating giving the appearance of physical bulk - the older 3PO, LOM, and RA-7 units, and even the newer 4CO model - or the droids were stick-limbed and box-bodied like the majority of security droids.

3L, however, appeared to have been built to a different design aesthetic.

Each arm and leg featured a series of individual plates clearly mounted on supports extending from the droid's skeleton beneath, giving the impression of organic proportions along the length of each limb, featuring an elegant tapering that also cleverly drew the eye away from any exposed mechanical or electronic 'musculature' beneath. Its torso gave the impression of human femininity - or extreme masculinity - by way of the hip to waist and waist to shoulder ratios and the dynamic banded plating that ran from waist to mid torso, which gave way to a more solid and traditional armour-like plating from mid-torso to neck and shoulders.

3L's head was probably the droid's least out of the ordinary aspect. It might have been slightly slimmer and deeper than otherwise expected, in keeping with the overall design aesthetic, but it was otherwise unremarkable save for the faceplate giving it a vaguely felinoid appearance.

Its gait also suggested something felinoid, being considerably more graceful than any other droid Kiera had seen until now. 3L didn't so much walk as slink or stalk, its entire body a part of each step, suggesting far more points of articulation in the droid's torso than...

This gave Kiera pause for thought. She'd already wondered why a smuggler would need a protocol droid but now, as she watched how 3L moved, she began to wonder if it actually was a protocol droid.

At the foot of the gantry stood the ship's captain, and as she approached, he nodded to her.

"Kelev Ra. I'll be your captain for this adventure. Hope you've got something to keep yourself occupied with for a few days."

He said it so casually that it almost didn't register.

"A few days?"

"At least a couple, there and back. The Outer Rim's about a day from the Core using the trade lanes," he replied casually, "give or take, depending on exactly where you're going. After that... Well, it's not like ordering from the menu in your favourite cantina."

Kiera felt herself bristling. "And I'm paying you one hundred thousand credits for..."

"North to South, it's about 60,000 light years from Galactic Centre to the edge of the Mid Rim territories. You can add at least half as much again if you want to get to anywhere half-civilised in the Outer Rim." Kelev looked squarely at her. "But, if you'd prefer, I can refund you and you can charter another vessel - I think we've talked about that already, right? And they can go off on their merry way with little or no prep' and even less of an idea where they're going and what they're potentially getting themselves into."

Kiera dropped her backpack and stood firmly at the foot of the gantry, hands on her hips.

"Or you can just stand there like that for as long as you want, 'cause your money's earning all the while."

She pouted, almost theatrically.

"Okay," conceded Kelev, trying not to laugh. "Y'know what? Usually, it's just me heading off out there, so I'm going to take a moment and remember that I have a paying customer in tow who might not be as in the know as she would like to think she is."

Leaning against one of the gantry's gas struts he began counting off details on one hand. "First, I'm going to visit an old friend who I hope is still as up on local affairs as they used to be. Second, we're going to Malachor, which is entirely reliant on me being able to see that old friend. Third - and this is the bit you need to pay special attention to - I happen to have known the ghost you're chasing, and if he's still on Malachor - alive - then I don't expect him to be in any way pleasant or cooperative."

That detail caught Kiera's attention immediately.

"You knew the person I'm looking for? Maul?! Why didn't you say so..."

"Not now, Kiera!" Kelev said a little too firmly, as if he were a parent silencing their child.

Realisation sank in, and he took a deep breath.

"My apologies. That was... unprofessional. And probably not polite either. Now... if you can contain yourself until after we make the jump, and if you think you can keep yourself occupied for a few days without constantly bending my ear - because ships don't, generally, just fly themselves - then we're almost ready to go."

A sudden childlike fear of the great unknown gripped Kiera, knotting her stomach.

Behind Kelev, 3L stood sentinel. Seeing Kiera's face - she'd never make a sabbac player - the droid nodded subtly.

Swallowing her fear she forced herself to smile at Kelev.

"You said to make like I was never coming back." She picked up her backpack. "I think I won't be too much of a burden, captain."

---

-6-

The Mourning Star was easily as big as some of the yachts Kiera had seen descending and ascending behind or above the Coruscanti skyline, but Kelev and 3L manoeuvred her effortlessly.

Turning her on the spot and exiting the hangar - which was sealed by blast doors and magnetic shielding no less - the freighter glided into an empty sky without the slightest change in attitude.

Inside the cockpit Kelev and 3L occupied the pilot and co-pilot's seats respectively, operating silently and seamlessly. Their view from the radically off-centre cockpit - an issue for pilots not familiar with YT's - was augmented by a number of discrete holo-projections just out of the crew's natural eyeline and an equally discreet pair of heads-up displays just ahead of the main control panel.

Strapped into the third of the cockpit's four seats, at what ostensibly was the navigator's position, sat Kiera, quietly taking it what was for her a brand new experience, 'though she tried not to let it show.

They maintained a sedate pace exiting the sector, going with the flow of traffic in the direction of one of the nearby industrial sectors until a series of lights off to one side of the cockpit had all lit up green, at which point Kelev gently pulled back on the yoke and sent the ship skyward.

Maybe Kiera had let something slip, as Kelev turned to her and simply said:

"Look up."

The manoeuvre had been so subtle that she hadn't noticed it, but The Mourning Star was climbing through the atmosphere partially inverted. Combined with Kelev's instruction it afforded her a view of the ecumenopolis she had never seen with her own eyes before.

She almost managed to stifle a squeal but still had to figure out how to wipe away the unexpected tears brought on by the enormity of it all.

"And now it's straight on 'til Quermia, and then cut right," stated Kelev as he began prep'ing the Star for the jump.

"The next bit is just as pretty, but it gets boring rather quickly," stated 3L, somewhat unusually. "Or so I've been told."

Kelev opened the throttle and the Star leapt forward, still at sublight but easily outpacing any other ship also exiting Coruscant's atmosphere. He began making slight adjustments to a console to his left whilst 3L flew the Star, the droid making a series of casual course corrections of its own, apparently aiming for a particular but indiscernible point in the star-filled inky blackness stretching out before them.

"We good?" Kelev asked.

"May spice salt your wounds," replied 3L, and Kelev laughed, pulling back on the hyperdrive throttle as he did so.

The stars blurred, and became a blizzard.

---

-7-

Now that they were well underway Kiera left the Star's cockpit, leaving Kelev and 3L to monitor their route out of the Core and through the Colonies.

She'd seen very little of The Mourning Star's interior thus far, so a brief exploration was overdue.

Expecting the vessel to be cramped, she was pleasantly surprised to find otherwise. Her cabin was big enough that she could comfortably stretch and turn on the spot without touching the walls, and the rest of the ship's compartments were equally spacious, relatively speaking.

The facilities were obviously communal so she'd be competing with Kelev for their use, should their jaunt require it. Kiera doubted that would be necessary, but since Kelev had already put a timescale on this part of their journey it was a distinct possibility.

Aside from the two crew cabins and the communal facilities there was the lounge area she'd already been in.

It was the constant beeping, clicking, and whistling that led her aft.

The flooring here was made up of a series of grills and solid panels, and beneath the centre of a series of these grills ran a corridor of exposed electronics and machinery. Directly behind this area were a series of six droid sockets, each of which contained an R2 or R3 unit; between and behind these, in a slight recess, stood...

Kiera wasn't particularly well-educated when it came to astromechs - she knew enough to know that the ones with the angled heads tended to be of a lower specification than the ones with the domed heads - but she was certain that what sat in the alcove was anything but off-the-shelf. Resplendent in black and gold, at its core it was an R2 or R3 unit as evidenced by its domed head, except that the dome had been augmented by something roundly pyramidal. The legs Kiera would usually have expected to see on either side of its barrel frame had been radically reworked, apparently no longer hinged at the shoulder but solid attachments; presumably the retractable third leg had been similarly reworked, as a static foot stood proud of droid's base, front and centre.

Welcome to the Farm, stated a disembodied electronic voice. We politely request that you do not interact with any of us whilst we are docked.

The sound caught her by surprise. Astromechs spoke Binary and nothing else as far as she knew, so apparently hearing one speak Basic was...

She found herself grinning.

"Duly noted," she said aloud, as much for herself as for who- or whatever had just spoken to her.

Thank you.

What kind of ship needed seven astromechs?

She was, presumably, in an engineering area, given the grills and the astromechs - the latter of which also suggested the area had some navigational function - which meant that she was probably just ahead of the Star's engines. In addition to the corridor she had arrived by, which had led into the middle of the room, there was a corridor on either end which matched the curvature of the hull. Turning to view each corridor in turn she noticed the recess that ran just above head height for the length of each bulkhead and, in turn, what was nestled in the recess.

Each of them was apparently circular but flattened, a single lens staring out blankly from slightly above something obviously mechanical.

Droids of some kind?

She had a momentary temptation to reach out and touch one, but the words of the disembodied voice still rang in her ears so she left well alone, just to be safe.

Her initial impression of The Mourning Star was that it was incredibly sleek and clean, and her brief unguided tour confirmed that. It was no pleasure cruiser, certainly, but she didn't expect a working ship to be so...

The words escaped her.

Maybe she just needed to spread her wings more often, and then she'd have something to compare The Mourning Star to.

Her tourist urges temporarily sated, she returned to her cabin and, from there, the crew lounge.

She'd shed her heavier clothes in favour of the lighter, airier layers she wore beneath, and collected a few items from her backpack.

Setting her datapad on a flat surface she attached a small portable speaker to it.

As music filled the lounge area Kiera began to limber up, eventually reaching for a collapsible baton, whip thin, which she then used as an accessory to a dance routine she performed daily. This was something she'd done since childhood - she'd been good enough that it had earned her a scholarship - and this particular routine was equal parts exhausting and exhilarating. Done properly, with the necessary room to manoeuvre, the collapsible baton would be a flag on a pole, but she'd allowed for the possibility that she'd be pressed for space. It was also a routine with many variations, allowing it to be tailored to the individual and their circumstances.

It was positively meditative, and no matter what might be going on in her life she had always found that she could lose herself in the dance and come out of it refreshed and focussed.

She was also likely to come out of it a tad warmer and possibly even glistening more than a little, and that meant she might have to schedule a slot for using the Star's communal facilities.

---

-8-

Hyperspace travel could be many things but, in general, the larger the vessel or more established the route the less interesting it was.

Hyperspace travel via the established trade routes was usually the most tedious way to travel. The routes were so well mapped and so heavily used that the latter countered the former, to such an extent that someone in a single seat vessel with only an astromech could pilot a run from the Deep Core to the Outer Rims and still sleep the entirety of the way. As such, a freighter like The Mourning Star - equipped with a constantly updated high end navcom, supplemented and augmented by up to seven astromechs running in parallel - wasn't going to encounter anything more exciting than a slight shudder as it overtook something considerably larger.

The blizzard of stars visible from the cockpit was having a vaguely soporific effect on Kelev - an effect apparently lost on 3L - and he found himself reflecting on the life he'd led up 'til this point.

He wouldn't be here, now, if it wasn't for his past: specifically, his adolescence.

More specifically, Maul.

He'd been young, yes, but that had been no excuse. At any point, he could have made a choice to walk away, except...

He could blame his parents, and the stories his father told. He could blame the people around his father, and their sons and daughters egging one another on. He could blame Bo-Katan and Pre Vizsla and their rhetoric, building on and feeding the resentment he'd felt - for no reason other than because he'd been told all of his life that he should be resentful - and the anger that had bred. But, ultimately, the choices he'd made had been his alone.

From Mandalore to Concordia, exiled with his family as a child too young to know what was happening, much less why; from Concordia to Carlac, further exiled because he'd chosen to follow Pre Vizsla; from Carlac to Zanbar, because...

And then they found Maul, and everything changed.

Death Watch were, ultimately, terrorists who thought themselves something else, something more honourable, but once they threw in their lot with Maul and Opress... Allied with the Black Sun, then the Pyke Syndicate, and then the Hutts, they became nothing more than criminals themselves, no matter how much Pre Vizsla dressed it up or talked it down.

He'd had so many chances to walk away, and yet Kelev had remained loyal.

He remained loyal, as the Shadow Collective terrorised and overran Mandalore.

He remained loyal, aiding in the overthrow and imprisonment of Duchess Satine Kryze.

He remained loyal, watching as Maul slew Pre Vizsla and took the symbol of leadership of House Vizsla - the black bladed lightsaber - from his body... even though Bo-Katan saw the truth of it and rebelled.

He remained loyal, watching when Maul used that black 'saber to slaughter Duchess Satine Kyrze.

He remained loyal, even after Maul's disappearance and the subsequent Republic occupation exiled him from Mandalore once again...

When Cast and Saxon brought Maul back to Zanbar, he stood side by side with his Mandalorian brothers and sisters against the Separatist droid army, and he remained loyal.

On Ord Mantell, he stood side by side with his Mandalorian brothers and sisters against the Separatist droid army, and he remained... alive.

Just.

And then Maul and his Mandalorian super commandoes left for another outpost, Kelev amongst them, and...

The Republic forces overran them, but Maul and his elite survived, and... vanished.

On Zanbar and Ord Mantell, Kelev had worn the black and red paint-daubed armour; he'd worn the horns on his helmet. He'd fought for a cause that ultimately was no longer his, and when the clone troopers and Jedi assaulted the asteroid he'd only escaped capture by the skin of his teeth.

That was the point at which his loyalty ended.

It took another five or six years of bad choices for him to finally understand that he had to at least try to make amends and attempt to right the things he'd done if he had any chance of living, instead of just surviving.

Maul was the only thing he'd never been able to make right. That was why, when she heard the name spoken aloud by someone other than Kelev, Wha Chu had sent Kiera his way.

All of this time later, nigh on fifty years, the best he could hope for would be a sense of closure, but he'd happily take that.

"Everything green, 3L?" Kelev asked, surfacing from his reverie.

"Green and leafy," replied the droid, causing Kelev to laugh.

"You okay if I leave you up here while I check on our passenger?"

The droid nodded almost imperceptibly. "I will notify you accordingly ahead of our arrival, or if anything untoward occurs beforehand."

Unlocking his seat, Kelev half turned it toward his co-pilot - "Thanks, 3L" - before extricating himself and heading aft, his attention caught by the sound of music which might be emanating from the lounge.

---

-9-

Led by the music, Kelev entered the lounge just as Kiera was finishing up her routine.

Pleasingly - from Kelev's perspective - Kiera appeared completely unfazed by his presence, gifting him a brief nod as she collapsed her baton and set to packing away her datapad and speaker.

"My guess would be this isn't the first time you've had someone walk in on you," he said, realising the moment after he'd said it how it might be taken.

Kiera gave him a crooked grin.

"My parents have walked in on me a few times, but I managed to talk my way out of it."

Kelev didn't bat an eyelid.

"I had a dance instructor who kept insisting I should always practice, practice, practice. You tend to stop being self conscious about it after a while."

"Good instructor," Kelev said, with a nod. "It takes a lot of repetition for things to become natural, even if you're someone who's naturally gifted."

Surprisingly, Kiera felt her cheeks begin to heat up.

"It's not something I ever expected to be good at - much less enjoy - but..."

"Modest with it," chuckled Kelev.

"Well, I was never championship material."

"Alright," Kelev said, with a shrug, "I take it back."

"Ha! It got me a scholarship, though, so that and the occasional chorus line or... It pays for my studies."

Kelev leaned against the padded bulkhead join, apparently considering something.

"Hmmm... I might have to find this dance instructor of yours. The forms you were using - well, what I saw of them - would probably be pretty good defensively."

Kiera stifled a laugh.

"You're going to wave a flag or ribbon at someone to stop them from... hurting you?"

The obvious silliness of the mental image was enough to cause Kelev to smirk.

"If I wanted them to stop and giggle for a moment, maybe." He nodded in the general direction of Kiera's collapsed baton. "But something like that? Whip someone with that and they'll give a little more thought to stepping up again. Something heavier? A collapsible staff of some kind? I reckon that would be a good enough deterrent if you show you can use it... and most people wouldn't carry something like that unless they could use it."

From silliness to seriousness in a heartbeat, the conversation died.

Feeling inexplicably uncomfortable with the silence, Kelev asked "So what's this dance scholarship actually paying for then?"

To his surprise he realised that he was actually genuinely interested in knowing the answer.

Kiera rewarded him with a bashful smile. "I'm actually studying history. You could call it a personal interest."

"Ah," exclaimed Kelev, "and the plot thickens. You could probably have a few interesting conversations with my daughter."

"You have a daughter?" Kiera asked, incredulous.

Kelev tapped a stud and the dejarik table's holo-projector brought up the image of Wha Chu - who Kiera recognised from The Spice Run - and a younger woman who appeared to have lekku, braided hair, and...

"Are those horns?"

Kelev nodded.

"Her father was a Zabrak." Kiera gave him a mildly confused look. "Everyone's got a past. Anyway, Sey'la's a dancer - not professionally, but if I didn't know better I'd swear all Twi'leks are natural born dancers - and she's studying archaeology. Not quite sure where she got the idea for that, although Chu is certain she must have been on one too many salvage runs."

Kiera huffed.

"Isn't that cultural profiling? Twi'leks have been one of the most enslaved species..."

"People."

"... people in the galaxy."

Kelev nodded, a slight smile on his face. "Being forced to dance in the palace of a Hutt and choosing to dance in a cantina to pay your bills are two very different things. Wha Chu paid for her business degree that way, and every Twi'lek I've ever met has had more natural rhythm than I'll ever have. But that's just the observations of a seventy-something year old man who's spent most of those years travelling the galaxy."

It was obvious Kiera was trying to come up with a suitable reply, but a blush began to spread across her cheeks.

"Academia is all well and good, Kiera, you'll get no argument from me on that. And you'll get no argument from me where Twi'lek slavery is concerned - I've been to Ryloth, and I've had run ins with Zygerrians. It's like I tell Sey'la, though: sometimes you've got to get a little dirt under your nails... which is probably why she spends her free time crewing with a Wookiee and a Trandoshan or working the Boneyard."

Suitably abashed, Kiera tried changing the subject.

"So, where exactly are we going first?" she asked, towelling her suddenly warm brow and cheeks once more.

"We'll just ride the Perlemian Trade Route out to the Outer Rim, then kind of cut right to Mon Cala... Mon Calamari. Either, or. Same place, regardless."

Kelev appeared unfazed by the sudden change in subject, but Kiera looked amused by his answer.

"Memory going?"

"Ha!" Kelev apparently took the question in good humour. "More like they keep changing the names of places I've not been in years just to test me."

There was a questioning look on Kiera's face, and Kelev suddenly found himself feeling more than a little paternal.

"Some places get 'discovered', and the people doing the discovering are arrogant enough to think that gives them the right to name those places. Problem is, some of those places already got people there, and those people already got a name for the place."

"Ah," replied Kiera, sagely. "So you're anti-colonialist?"

Kelev shrugged. "Colonies are all well and good, providing colonists respect the locals and behave like good guests should." Setting himself down on a seat, he sighed. "Course, Mon Cala didn't have 'colonists'. 'Occupying forces' is probably about as diplomatic as any of the locals will get."

Kiera made as if to ask something else, but paused. Kelev appeared to be staring at the two helmets sat atop a foot locker across from where they sat. They were distinctive, of a design she'd never seen before, full face helmets with a T-shaped viewplate. One was painted a combination of grey and blue whilst the other was black and red, the latter also bearing a crown of horns - a tribute to his daughter perhaps?

Slowly, Kelev smiled.

"Good memories?" she asked.

"Not really," he replied. "But necessary ones."

"... oh... sorry." Kiera didn't so much curl up as draw back ever so slightly, and immediately sought to change the subject. "So: why Mon Cala?"

Kelev glanced at her, and a wry grin slowly turned the corners of his mouth. He knew what had just happened and what she was trying to do, but...

"When I was a kid, my old man and his friends would occasionally talk about Malachor." He tilted his head in the direction of the helmets. "I'm a Mandalorian, by birth. Malachor's part of my heritage, just like those over there."

"You were a soldier?"

Kelev chuckled.

"I've been a lot of things - most recently, a man of relative leisure - but a soldier's not one of those things. I might have kidded myself that I was one, once; a freedom fighter even. But the truth is: I was a terrorist."

Kiera looked confused.

"I keep the armour as a reminder of who I once thought I was. That, and Wha Chu would probably beat me to death with her lekku if I ever threw them away. We all have a past, Kiera: I'll tell you about it properly some other time, if you want. Anyway, Malachor figured in our oral history - mainly by way of 'no Mandalorian should ever go there' - but no one ever clarified where exactly it was that they were talking about."

"So... you don't actually know where it is?"

Kelev shrugged.

"I've got a good idea - rough coordinates I've never bothered pinning down to anything more accurate - but I'd prefer to be certain. Names change; bad things happen. When the Imperials tucked tail they destroyed a lot of records; BoSS haven't fully recovered from that, not even some thirty odd years later, so their navcom updates aren't... Let's just say that lots of places disappeared off the map, and they'll stay that way if you're only willing to use 'legitimate' sources."

Kiera smiled. "So I was right: you were a smuggler?"

"I've used shadow ports regularly, yes, but a smuggler? No. I might have run a few blockades in my time, but... No, I was a bounty hunter, amongst other things - still have Guild membership as it happens - so I've more than a few more-than-slightly-grey contacts."

"And one of those is on Mon Cala?"

Kelev nodded.

"Not been out there in a few years, and not seen him in about ten, but he's still there and he's still in business..."

"'More-than-slightly-grey' business?" Kiera asked, with a slight smile.

"More or less; sooner or later most... people aim for legitimacy, even if everyone including them knows it's a sham. H'Rin'ton apparently keeps his hand in with..."

"Other 'more-than-slightly-grey' businesses?"

Kelev laughed out loud.

"'Salvagers of questionable integrity' might be a better name for them."

"So, my guess would be that they tend to shy away from the main hyperspace lanes, meaning they have... more 'specific' coordinates you can 'borrow' from your friend?"

"Well, that's the plan."

---

-10-

Kiera slept soundly in her cabin, a dreamless sleep which she took as a good sign when she fully awoke, roused by a knocking at the cabin door.

She had a sense of what was on the other side of the door before she was sitting upright in her cot. She simply slid her legs out - drawing a slight breath as her bare feet encountered the cold floor - and made for the door wearing only what she had slept in.

As she opened the door she kept her attention focussed on where she expected to see 3L's head but, instead, found herself looking at nothing.

Please excuse the intrusion, stated an electronic voice.

Tilting her head down, Kiera found that it was the unusual astromech which had woken her.

"I didn't know astromechs spoke Basic," she said, lightly, for some reason not wanting to offend the droid.

The vast majority do not, and cannot. I, however, have been continuously augmenting and upgrading myself, and have found a vocabulator to be a most useful addition for instances such as this.

Kiera smiled.

"You do this regularly?"

The droid tilted back ever so slighty - it was hovering rather than standing - and 'looked' Kiera in the eye.

If by 'this' you mean interacting with organics without a translator droid nearby then yes, I do. However… most of the organics I interact with usually show far less of their 'organics' than you are doing now.

Kiera almost giggled: was this astromech being prudish?

"I've worn far more revealing clothing dancing in theatres in the Uscru District," she stated.

Artistry and exhibitionism are inextricably linked, opined the droid, and Kiera did actually laugh.

"My parents might say the same thing, just not when I'm around."

And then she felt the strangest urge.

"We might have met earlier, when I was wandering the ship, but we haven't been introduced: I'm Kiera Nys'a."

We did indeed, and I thank you for adhering to my request. I am Q-P1D, the primary astromech aboard The Mourning Star.

Kiera gave a slight bow. "Pleased to meet you, Q-P1D. And how may I be of assistance?"

The droid settled back to deck level and gave a little dance on the spot, presumably expressing its own pleasure.

Kelev Ra has asked me to advise you that we have passed Quermia and will shortly be arriving at our destination, if you wish to join him in the cockpit.

"Well," Kiera replied, still smiling, "I suppose I should probably cover up some of my organics first."

That might be for the best. Kelev Ra isn't as young as he once was, and we have no dedicated medical droid on board...

---

-11-

There were hundreds of water worlds throughout the galaxy that were home to a variety of different sentient species, many of which played home to indigenous aquatic or amphibious sentients. In the grand scheme of things Kelev had never quite managed to get his head around how such species had developed technology compatible with space travel, but there were so many beings equally at home in space and water that it was a moot point.

In point of fact, the history of the galaxy had been written, in part, by the Mon Calamari, whose vessels had provided the backbone for much of the Rebellion's military operations during the latter stages of the Galactic Civil War. As such - and despite its status as an Outer Rim system - Mon Cala had become something of a hub for commerce and culture in the years since the Battle of Jakku, with any number of artificial islands and airborne way stations hosting the less aquatically inclined of Mon Cala's more recent inhabitants.

Kiera joined Kelev and 3L in the Star's cockpit as the latter was preparing the ship for sublight travel.

"Cupid managed to wake you then?"

"Cupid?" Kiera asked, momentarily confused, and then realisation struck. "Oh… Yes. That's… a ... a unique droid."

Kelev didn't react as such, tending to his own duties.

"Unique is par for the course on the Star. Cupid and 3L… Well, really, this is their ship, and it's unique too, as far as I can tell. But it's a big galaxy."

As Kiera strapped herself into the navigator's seat - a redundant role, but an exceptional view - she frowned.

"The Star belongs to a pair of droids?" 3L might have twitched, ever so slightly. "No offense intended."

"Long story, short version: they found me. Literally. And I've been their 'business' partner ever since."

Said so matter of factly the statement might not have warranted any further conversation, but the context meant Kiera had so many more questions she wanted to ask. However, she knew enough to know that now wasn't the time.

"When you've a moment, I'm curious about something… unrelated."

3L nodded, imperceptibly, and Kelev glanced at Kiera.

"Before I went to sleep I did a little reading. From the Core to the Outer Rim, even using a major hyperspace route, this journey should have taken us two days. We've done it in roughly half that…"

As holographic projections began to spring up alongside of the main console Kelev nodded.

"You met the guys in the Farm on your walkabout," he said, jerking a thumb in the general direction of the rear of the ship, and Kiera nodded. "Well, you can have the best navcom there is, with the most accurate charts going, but if all you're doing is sight-seeing then the established routes are just as good at getting you from A to B as any smuggler's run... unless you've got a good reason to be cutting it close with black holes and gravity wells.

"The Star has a lot of headroom - and I mean a lot of headroom - in every department. Part of that's down to multiple redundancies: hence, the Farm."

Even though he was actively preparing for their imminent arrival Kelev still caught on to Kiera's apparent confusion.

"The navcom tells the Star where it's going, and the route it's taking to get there, but the guys in the Farm - who are plugged into the passive and active sensor arrays, as well as the ship's controls - keep the Star clear of other traffic, as well as supplementing and augmenting the navcom so that we can make full use of the ship's speed."

"But, I thought…" Kiera struggled for words. "I thought droid ships were…"

Kelev smiled.

"Not strictly speaking a droid ship, but... And that's why they keep me around."

3L reached out and lightly punched Kelev in the arm, causing Kiera's jaw to drop.

"Like I said: unique."

Coming out of hyperspace in 5…

Q-P1D's disembodied voice set both Kelev and 3L to their marks. The blizzard of stars resolved itself into a relatively stationary star field with a blue planet roughly central to Kiera's view without incident.

"Green across the board," commented Kelev, apparently to no one in particular. "Everything nominal?"

After a brief pause, Q-P1D replied from engineering.

Long- and short-range sensors say yes. Internal sensors say yes… even for fleshy ones.

Kelev glanced back at Kiera and shrugged, but Kiera only had eyes for the planet ahead.

"It looks beautiful. So your friend's a Mon Calamari?"

Kelev shook his head. "No."

"A Quarren then?"

Kelev shook his head again.

"... erm..."

"You know there are Nautolan colonies on Mon Cala too, right?"

Kiera's face lit up. "So..."

"Nope. And there are Gungans too, last I heard." Kelev gave her an open and friendly smile

"You're starting to make me feel far less cosmopolitan than I would like."

Kelev laughed.

"I'm sorry... He's Toydarian. Known him for best part of twenty years. Deals mostly in salvage, and he's mostly legitimate with it. He's also plugged in to a few less than legitimate business ventures, as I might have said before, but... Let's just say he's a bit of a scoundrel."

"And my guess would be that it's his less than stellar reputation that makes him... valuable as a friend?" Kiera asked with a grin.

Kelev looked taken aback, if only momentarily. "That's a tad harsh!"

"Oh, so, that's not why we're here?"

Kelev and 3L continued to make adjustments to the main console as one or other of them actually piloted the Star. "There's only so much an old man can accurately remember, and there's only so much data a handful of astromechs can retain at one go; likewise a navcom. There are a lot of systems out there, and the number of wars that have been fought in my lifetime means that a lot of the places that used to be aren't, and those that are might not even be the same place anymore."

Kiera looked puzzled. "You're not really making any sense."

"You can blame the Empire for most of it. Ever heard of Korriban?" Kelev asked - 3L might have twitched, again - as he gently rolled The Mourning Star so that it appeared they were approaching Mon Cala from beneath rather than above.

Kiera dutifully shook her head.

"Some people swear it's a real place, but where they say it is the charts show a planet called Moraband. Then again, maybe it's just like Mon Cala in that respect. But then again maybe BoSS should be the ones to shoulder some of the blame, since they somehow allowed their core records to get overwritten when the Imp's withdrew... and someone might have accidentally updated their own files from those..."

Kelev glanced sideways at 3L, but the droid maintained a steadfast eyes-ahead posture.

"Now, the Malchor I think I remember is in the Outer Rim, in the Chorlian sector. It was a story my father told - probably something his father told him, and so on - about a great war the Mandalorians fought in, a thousand years ago. It was a place we were never, ever supposed to travel to, but, of course, he could never tell me why."

"Because we all have a past?" asked Kiera, remembering how Kelev had looked at the helmets in the lounge, and Kelev laughed.

"Your people have a past. My people have a past. Doesn't mean any of it's true, though."

"So," asked Kiera, "we're here why?"

"To make sure I'm actually taking you to the place you want to go to," conceded Kelev. "Or, to find out if the ghost you're chasing is somewhere else. Either way, real gravity and real air won't go amiss for a while."

---

-12-

Trailing its solar orbit, The Mourning Star came in to Mon Cala under its southern pole, all the better to naturally burn off speed. Dropping down through the planet's atmosphere Kelev eventually levelled off somewhere just above sea level, a grin spreading across his face as the Star slalomed between the highest wave crests.

The way station Kelev was aiming for was in the planet's southern hemisphere, closer to the planet's equator than its pole, but between here and there were any number of artificial atolls, not least of which was an almost Coruscanti island that had Kiera in awe: easily city-sized in its own right, it was built around a sinkhole that could probably have accommodated a pair of commercial passenger liners passing one another if necessary.

Soon enough, howver, their way station came into sight, positioned just high enough to avoid the worst of Mon Cala's waves, and Kelev and 3L began preparations for their landing.

H'Rin'ton hovered at the break in the perimeter fence, even managing to do so casually.

The weather wasn't to his liking - a misty drizzle - nor was the time of day, but for an old friend he'd gladly put up with being wet and tired.

The Mourning Star quickly settled on its landing gear, and the vessel began its post-landing venting and recharging cycle. Amidst the steam and the clicks and the whirs, the gantry lowered and two figures exited the ship.

"Kelev Ra!" The Toydarian moved forward to greet his old friend, noting his companion quickly enough. "And this is who?"

Without prompting, Kiera nodded to H'Rin'ton.

"Kiera Nys'a."

He gave a slight bow, no small feat given that he was still airborne.

"My new Second Mate," commented Kelev with the slightest of nods toward Kiera - she caught on instantly - and the quickest of winks, the latter of which went entirely unnoticed by H'Rin'ton.

"Somewhere dry and warms calls us, no?" the Toydarian half asked, half stated.

Kelev nodded in agreement, and the trio made their way from the landing area toward a nearby building.

"Looking old, Kelev Ra. I can see why you need Second Mate," chortled H'Rin'ton as he deftly countered a sudden gust.

"You seen yourself recently, 'Rin? I didn't realise Toydarians aged so badly. And with all of this bracing sea air, too."

"Lack of variety in diet," opined H'Rin'ton. "Perhaps you and I arrange shipments of Toydarian delicacies to Mon Cala, old friends rates."

Kelev coughed, a fake cough meant to cover for a laugh which fooled no one. "Sorry, 'Rin. I'm semi-retired. You'd have to speak to Wha Chu about that."

"Pah! You and she, still partners?" Kelev nodded. "A most unique Twi'lek. And your daughter, Sey'la, yes?"

Kelev took a moment before answering. "Probably terrorising various young men as we speak, and probably with a Wookiee in tow… And I wouldn't be too surprised if there's a Trandoshan urging them both on to further heights of idiocy, which will probably warrant a visit from the Governor of Concordia next time I make planet fall."

They had reached the building H'Rin'ton had indicated, but the Toydarian apparently had no urgent need of entering said building, choosing instead to simply hover there. It took Kiera a few moments to realise that what Kelev had just said had genuinely shocked H'Rin'ton.

The Toydarian looked directly at Kiera. "Be sure to do right by Kelev Ra. When he disowns daughter…" He didn't finish what he was saying, instead waving a finger in the air and then tapping his temple.

Once they were finally inside H'Rin'ton's place of business - it wasn't really a shop and it wasn't really an office, but something that was both and yet neither - all three shook the drizzle from themselves or quickly shed their light waterproofs before taking up suitably and nonchalantly comfortable positions.

"So," began the Toydarian, "what business brings you to edge of unknown?"

Kiera glanced at Kelev, having chosen to follow his lead without consultation, and noted how relaxed and uninterested he appeared, which she chose to feign herself. It also helped in this instance that she understood what H'Rin'ton actually meant: Mon Cala was indeed on the edge of charted space.

"Malachor," Kelev said, much as Kiera had said it to him.

The Toydarian frowned.

"Hmmm... Malachor. Familiar, yes, but..."

Kelev shrugged, a non-committal gesture.

"I know. The name's been rattling 'round in my head for a few years now, and I'm not getting any younger. Figured I'd see if there's any credence to those stories my old man and his friends used to tell. Plus, I heard a rumour an old friend might have been there."

Kiera kept tactfully silent.

"Really?" chuckled H'Rin'ton. "And so you come to see me?"

"'Rin, why wouldn't I? Besides, it's not like I can just go on the HoloNet..."

"Ha!" exclaimed H'Rin'ton. "HoloNet?! Put your faith in that would you?"

Kelev didn't so much shrug as roll his shoulders. "It's a tool, nothing more. Anyway, the Imp's wiped a lot of what was worthwhile on their way out."

The Toydarian grunted, twitching his snout and scratching his chin.

"Hmmm... will take time."

Kelev put a hand in his hip pouch and produced a handful of gold credits.

"Five thousand. No questions, no history. The search disappears when I do."

H'Rin'ton grinned, his eyes glinting. "My memory will always be better than yours, old man."

Kelev grinned in return, and another handful of credits appeared. "Another five will cure that."

A moment passed, and then another, and Kiera waited for one or the other to say something more.

Then both Kelev and H'Rin'ton burst into laughter.

"Do we have to play this game every time, 'Rin? I mean, it's been ten years; don't you have any new or better games to play?"

"Some games always fun to play, Kelev Ra. Especially with people who know how they're played. Besides, when you disappear I make sure you really disappear. Call it favour for old friend."

Kelev cast a glance at and through one of the room's windows.

"The Blackened Talz still in business?"

"Sure is," replied H'Rin'ton. "Antzi and Chupa still own it, too. Almost legitimate."

Reaching for his poncho, Kelev smiled.

"There's a lot of that going around these days... apparently. Buzz me when you're ready."

---

-13-

The Blackened Talz hung precariously below the way station's lower level.

From the gantry leading to its entrance the two sub-levels of general recreation gave the appearance of being entirely unlicensed and accidental, but their addition was most definitely deliberate. Oversized cargo containers had been welded, bolted, and chained to one another and the platform above, and then been cut, furnished, and fitted out as required. Entirely deliberately.

"Is this place legal?" Kiera asked as they descended the stairs.

"Consider it mostly grey. The fact that it's still here..." He shrugged. "I put at least two holes in one of its walls about fifteen years back, and 'Rin might have bought me a drink here last time I saw him."

It reminded Kiera of one or two of the places she'd accidentally wandered into before finding The Spice Run, which was cause enough for concern.

"You prefer to go somewhere else?" Kelev asked casually.

Kiera considered it, for all of a moment.

"Sometimes you've got to get a little dirt under your nails, right?"

Kelev found them a table relatively central to the lower level, and a serving droid attended to them almost immediately. Kiera deferred to Kelev's experience when it came to what to order, and he erred on the side of caution - something meaty, hot but not spicy, and an equally hot beverage, ever so slightly sweet but also ever so slightly bitter - all the while treating the droid with a level of friendly familiarity that had Kiera wondering if he did indeed know it.

When the serving droid left to pass on their order, Kiera leaned in toward Kelev.

"Why do you treat droids the way you do?"

"You mean, like people?" replied Kelev with a slight smile.

"Yeah. I know I'm not as worldly wise as some of the people you usually associate with, but... well, I've not really noticed anyone doing that before, all 'please' and 'thank you', when they're dealing with droids."

Kiera seemed genuinely interested, and Kelev took a moment to consider his next words.

"The truth is… I did things I regret. Some things… aw, Mother of Kwath... Carlac… You try to make amends. Might take years, but… I never expected a second chance in life, figured I'd already made my bed and had to lie in it. And then a ship full of droids saved me."

Kiera frowned, puzzled. "The Mourning Star?"

Kelev nodded. "Yeah, and... People give droids a hard time for the same reason they give clones a hard time, I reckon: the Clone Wars. Sure, there are droids out there who might have been part of that war but that was fifty some years ago and there's been other wars since then. Me, I see droids as being no better or worse than any other person I've ever met: you get good droids, and you get droids that have gone bad."

"So even droids have a past?" Kiera asked, without a hint of irony or sarcasm, and Kelev laughed.

"You can't judge anyone based solely on what someone other than them did. I've known a few Zabraks: one of them almost got me killed a few times, and one of them actively tried to kill me. Doesn't mean I bear any ill will toward Zabraks in general though. Same's true of droids."

His comment about Zabraks piqued Kiera's curiosity, but she wasn't prepared to follow that line just yet: it simply didn't feel right to ask. Instead, and with a slight grin, she asked "And just how many killer droids have you known?"

Kelev shrugged. "This side of the Clone Wars? A few. Some malfunction, simple as that. A few reprogram themselves. There are - or were - a few droids out there taking bounties too. Things can get a little grey then."

"So you don't hold grudges... Ever?"

"I try not to. I mean, what's the point? Funny thing is... droids talk to one another. Word gets about. And, sometimes, things getting a little grey has worked in my favour. It doesn't mean I like all droids, and it doesn't mean all droids like me, but..."

Kiera nodded, an inkling of understanding taking root: "You treat them with respect."

"I try to treat everyone with respect," Kelev countered, cordially.

"And how's that worked out so far?"

"I've got a reputation," Kelev said, with a hint of a grin, "a good one, whether I'm wearing the armour or not. Worked hard to get it, and I've not intention of losing it."

Their food arrived far quicker than Kiera might otherwise have expected - proof perhaps of Kelev's good reputation in the wider droid community perhaps - and they both set to eating with no little gusto.

"About the armour..." Kiera said, hesitantly, uncertainly.

Kelev nodded, working his way through a mouthful of food before answering.

"I was an angry person when I was growing up, and I was angry at all the wrong people for all the wrong reasons. I grew up around people who had spent their lives listening to bitter old folks who believed there'd been a better time. A time of martial prowess; a time when Mandalorians would prove themselves in war..."

He shrugged.

"We lapped it up. Mandalore... At the time, there was a drive toward pacifism, probably a reaction to what was going on in the galaxy as much as our own history... all came to a head during the Clone Wars, but... So many of us were clamouring for - to be - something more..."

He fell silent, momentarily contemplative.

"Afterward? After Pre Vizsla; after Maul; I was lost. I fell in with more than a few disreputable types, and that lead to mercenary work and bounty hunting."

Kiera waited, wondering if more was to come.

"Maul would be the Zabrak who almost got you killed a few times, yes?"

Kelev nodded, contemplating his past and his drink in equal measure, and then he slowly smiled.

"In case you're wondering - about what I've just said; about what I said earlier - I didn't come by The Mourning Star: it came by me."

He took a sip of his drink, and motioned to Kiera - "Eat! You paid for it." - before continuing.

"We were tracking a smuggling cartel, me and a bunch of deadbeats, out passed Teth: they owed a lot of credits to another, bigger cartel; only to be expected on the edge of Hutt Space. We were way off the trade routes, nowhere near any of the usual hyperspace lanes. My guess would be that it was their home, 'cause they ambushed us. Couple of proximity mines, took out a lot of our ship's systems - it was an old piece of junk, anyway - and then another couple shattered a nearby asteroid."

Inexplicably, he chuckled.

"We're dead stick, and we're being battered to a pulp. Life support was failing so, obviously, we abandoned ship… and then my life pod failed, too."

He took another mouthful before he carried on.

"I had a long time to consider my life, and whatever I thought was left of it. Just me, the few things I called my own - two sets of armour, a few journals, a blaster - and a lot of thinking."

"You were abandoning ship, and you grabbed two sets of armour?" Kiera asked, incredulous.

He chuckled again, shaking his head.

"They were the ones you sort of saw on the Star. Besides, it was a leaky bucket of a ship; we actually bunked in the life pods. Anyway, I could go for melodrama at this point, and say I'd given up hope and was gasping my last breaths, but that wasn't how it happened. I'm there, ruminating on the poor life choices that had led me to my current predicament, and then I feel the pod start to move. Not tumbling, but actually moving with purpose.

"The Mourning Star's a freighter by design, 'though I've idea who built her or why - she's based off a Corellian design, obviously, but she definitely isn't a Corellian, or if she is then she's a one-off... and if the droids know then they're not telling - and she picked me up and pulled me in, and the pod told me the atmosphere was safe. 3L and the guys were already onboard, least I think so; might've added or lost an astromech or two in the years since... 'though what with Cupid tinkering about with itself and the others sometimes it's hard to tell who's who anymore."

Kelev's comm unit bleeped, signalling that H'Rin'ton had found whatever it was Kelev hjad hoped he'd find.

"Anyway, to cut a long story short, after they hauled me onboard and I got my bearings we came to an arrangement soon enough: The Mourning Star is their ship; they've got complete autonomy, and I act as their 'master' only when it's necessary."

---

-14-

The way from The Blackened Talz back to H'Rin'ton's place of business was so easily navigated by Kiera that she didn't even stop to think how it was she knew it, something Kelev quietly noted to himself.

"I've never visited Dathomir, but it's nearby, yeah?" Kiera asked casually.

Kelev mulled it over for a few moments before answering.

"Relatively speaking? Yeah. Practically neighbours with Mandalore as it happens. Maybe do it in quarter of a day from here, half a day tops."

"Good," stated Kiera, and then went silent for a few moments. "When we're done at Malachor, could we stop off there - Dathomir, I mean - providing it's on the way to wherever we're... erm... going?"

Kelev found himself grinning.

"Providing we have somewhere to go after Malachor?"

"Yes. No. I mean..." Kiera stammered. "Yes, I'm already prepared for Malachor to be a... to be a dead end, so we'll be heading back to Coruscant, and... well, Dathomir is kind of on the way, if I've got my bearings."

Kelev nodded. "Providing Malachor is where I expect it to be, yeah, why not." He paused, gently taking hold of her arm to stop her in her tracks. "And you've never been there before?"

"I know. It probably sounds more than a little strange. Here I am claiming to be a Dathomirian Nightsister, and..." Kiera began to blush ever so slightly. "... and I've never set foot on my own homeworld. I'd not actually left Coruscant until…"

"I know," grinned Kelev.

"Is it that obvious?" Kiera asked, momentarily crestfallen. She thought she'd done such a good job of hiding it 'til now.

"You…" Kelev began to say, and then stopped. He had no desire to bring her down, but he knew a little honesty wouldn't hurt her, especially given the path she was apparently set on walking. "You're a little too wide-eyed, but otherwise… And anyway, it's not that strange, really, you having never been 'home'. Sey'la is a Twi'lek and a Zabrak, but she's never been to Ryloth or Iridonia. But I get what you mean."

He shrugged.

"Besides, you know, I'm not sure how nice of a place it would have been to visit - Dathomir, I mean - even back before... well, before what happened. Can't say I've ever been there myself. Stories I heard, it's where Rancors came from - 'though I might be confusing that with Felucia... Actually, now I think about it, I'm fairly sure legend has it both planets have a Sarlacc too."

Kelev began to chuckle.

"Something funny?" Kiera asked, nonplussed.

Kelev simply shrugged.

"Bounty hunter lore," he said, still smiling. "And Mandalorian humour…"

Kiera waited, wondering if Kelev would expand on his otherwise meaningless explanation, but apparently nothing more was forthcoming. And then, out of the blue:

"Makes me wonder how you could afford me, though."

Kiera, who had been about to start walking again, found herself stopped dead.

Momentarily she bristled - how dare he! - and then a calmer voice in her head prevailed. That he hadn't asked before now might, in other circumstances, seem odd, but what she had gleaned of his history so far suggested that he was as open-minded a person as any she was likely to meet.

"I'm... I'm 'borrowing' it from my scholarship. And I have money set aside from dancing in theatre performances in the Uscru District. And... Well, my parents - actually, they're my adopted parents, obviously - aren't..."

She didn't quite know how to finish off what she'd wanted to say, but Kelev put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's okay, "he said. "I'm not going to ask for a full breakdown of your finances." In truth, he hadn't expected an answer, but the one she'd been giving him rang true. "Just call it professional curiosity."

He gave a slight nod in the general direction they were going and they began walking again.

Nervously at first, Kiera carried on talking.

"They've done everything to raise me as theirs, blood of my blood, but they've also made sure I know my heritage - because, they say, that's what they would hope others would do for them."

"Human?"

Kiera didn't answer immediately.

"No. My father's Chagrian; mother's Umbaran. I still live with them. But they're more like... roommates than parents."

"And they know where you are?"

She nodded.

"And it doesn't bother them that their daughter is running off on some damned fool Bantha hunt with a complete stranger?"

Kiera actually laughed.

"They know enough not to be too worried. Besides, they kind of set me on this path anyway. My heritage quest, they called it. Besides, they're probably on Hosnian Prime by now… Senate stuff; they're both in the Legislator. So it's not like they'd miss me for a few days."

Then she stopped in her tracks again, looking at Kelev.

"Growing up, looking like this... I was glad of my parents for everything they did to make me strong enough to be me. I mostly kept myself to myself, which wasn't always the best thing to do, but when you're different... How did your daughter cope?"

"Sey'la?" Kelev considered the question. "She was born on Coruscant. It's… diverse enough, I suppose."

Kiera shrugged.

"Easy enough to say if you're human. At last census you made up almost seventy percent of the population."

Kelev gave that fact its due consideration. "That's a fair point. But being Coruscanti is as much a state of mind as it being human, having lekku, or having horns - not that I've ever known anyone else who has both, like Sey'la does."

Kiera nodded, understanding that Kelev wasn't dismissing her point, simply illustrating his. "So she grew up on Coruscant?"

"Some of the time; rest of it was on Concordia and Mandalore."

"And she never... got bullied? For being different?"

Kelev understood the meaning behind the question: it wasn't really about her entirely, but also about her parents being a tadpole and a shadow, if you cared to use such pejoratives.

"She's got her mother's brains and her father's temperament - her birth father, mind, who, I should also point out, is the Zabrak who actively tried to kill me. People - okay, kids - might have tried to drag her down to their level but she ran rings around them verbally... and she could throw down with the best of them if she had to."

A slight smile began to light up Kiera's face.

"And I'd wager she got a lot from you too. I think maybe I do need to meet her and take a few life lessons."

"But life otherwise?"

She shrugged. "I survived. I danced. I read. I fantasised... probably far too much. Dathomir doesn't warrant much on the HoloNet, so I probably spent far too many nights entertaining far too many fanciful notions as a child - and beyond."

Kelev grinned. "Sounds almost idyllic."

Kiera gave another shrug. "Maybe. But I'd have liked to have had more friends," she said as she began walking again. "Not just adopted parents who acted like they were friends."

It took a few strides before Kelev thought he had the right thing to say.

"Never take an adopted parent's friendship for granted because - and I hope you'll trust me on this one - it can all go so very wrong so very easily. And, without wanting to sound patronising, in my experience, most other friendships have a tendency to be fleeting. A few years here, a few years there; people grow, and people change." Another stride followed. "Takes about half a lifetime for anyone to feel comfortable in their own skin, so..."

He caught her slight sideways glance and rewarded it with a wink.

"But... growing up somewhere you're different to everyone else - and them all being the same - I can see how friends are important. You give it time - in the right places, around the right people - and it happens without you ever realising it."

Kiera didn't react, but Kelev could see that she was listening, taking in what he was saying, and in that moment he felt good about the life he'd led.

"A lot of people I've met down the years, people I've only ever really thought of as business associates or rivals, they're actually friends - some of them good friends, as it happens - and it's just we're too stubborn to admit it most of the time, but that's just how it works."

---

-15-

Having shaken off the drizzle for the third time in as many hours, Kiera had now decided that what H'Rin'ton had was an office masquerading as a work shop or an artist's studio, but the flighty Toydarian had neither the inclination nor the patience to begin or complete any of the projects in it.

"So... Malachor, you said."

"Probably a ghost hunt," Kelev conceded, idly inspecting the carcass of a droid of some sort. "That rumour said something about it being a few years back, and..." Rather than finish the statement, Kelev shrugged.

"Hmmm... not likely to have left a trace that long, Kelev, eh?" commented H'Rin'ton.

"I know, but... Got to start somewhere, right?"

"So... This rumour? It gave a name of a place, but you don't know where place is? This I find interesting, Kelev Ra."

Kelev left the droid carcass alone, and turned to face the Toydarian.

"I've got an old memory of being told about it, back when I was young - probably my old man or one of his friends - and something about it being somewhere we Mando's were supposed to avoid... Memory seems to suggest the system is in the Chorlian sector, but, well, you know how much things can change..."

H'Rin'ton cast a glance at his datapad.

"Malachor... Malachor... Ah... yes, good memory for old man. Malachor system, Chorlian sector..." Holding out a small stick of some kind, the Toydarian grinned. "Hmmm... yes, Malachor, and all of other places friends have occasion to visit. Call it added bonus for old friend, no. System coordinates; planetary coordinates; satellite coordinates... Still have preference for solar orbital plane, trailing, polar approaches?"

Kiera found herself smiling, and cast a quick glance at Kelev.

"Except when people are expecting me to do that," Kelev said, his expression remaining neutral even as he took the data stick, giving the Toydarian a curt nod.

"Ah, but there is more," chuckled H'Rin'ton. "Hmmm, interesting... Not only ones interested in Malachor it seems."

"What?" Kiera said, despite herself.

Kelev cast a quick glance in Kiera's direction, for no other reason than he was surprised at her relatively low level outburst, and found her mouthing the word "Sorry" in his general direction.

"Hmmm..." H'Rin'ton said to no one in particular as he continued to read from his datapad.

"Well," Kelev offered, to the room in general, "it stands to reason there might be an interest in the system. There are trade routes that skirt that sector - might even go through there. Not everyone walks the same path... need to keep their navcoms and astromechs up to date, BoSS notwithstanding."

"But recently?" asked Kiera, feigning composure in the face of something she considered to be a minor revelation.

Kelev smiled.

"'Rin didn't say anything about recently."

However, H'Rin'ton held up a hand.

"'Recently', such a relative term. Hmmm... so, relatively, yes. But not smugglers Kelev Ra alludes to either."

Feeling remarkably mature and composed, Kiera asked "Who then?"

"Hmmm... First Order."

Neither Kiera or Kelev had to feign surprise.

"They were here?" Kiera practically blurted.

"Here, no," corrected H'Rin'ton. "Sighted, nothing more, entering Malachor system. Not well-travelled that region. Unscrupulous types only... usually."

"How long since?" Kelev asked, frowning slightly.

"Not certain," shrugged the Toydarian. "Planetary rotations; space travel; complicated. No input location, no log in details."

"So no way of knowing then." It was as much a statement as a question.

Raising an eyebrow, H'Rin'ton considered Kelev's words. "This is problem?"

Kelev didn't answer immediately, giving the issue some thought first.

"Not really... I think."

Not wanting to seem uneducated, but also very aware of Kelev's earlier comments, Kiera cautiously raised a point.

"I'm sure HoloNet said the First Order had based themselves in the Unknown Regions, somewhere out passed Ilum and Rakata Prime. That's the other side of the galaxy..."

"Exactly." Kelev said it in such a way as to suggest that he knew that but was acknowledging her knowing that. "'Rin's feelings on HoloNet notwithstanding."

"... but I know historically Mon Cala was a big part of the old Alliance, so..."

Kelev gave her a nod.

"What you're saying would make perfect sense - you're right, the Mon Calamari did a lot of the heavy lifting back then - but the First Order weren't seen near Mon Cala. They were seen near Malachor, and that's practically in the Corporate Sector. Means they thought there was something interesting enough in the Malachor system to risk being sighted."

Looking directly at Kiera, Kelev mouthed the word 'No'.

Oblivious to their non-verbal exchange, H'Rin'ton continued to scroll through his datapad.

"Hmmm... Star Destroyer, hard to hide, risky for them if spotted given Concordance."

"Wait... 'Rin: did you just say 'Star Destroyer'?"

"That's the deal-breaker I'm guessing?" Kiera asked, suddenly fearful that her heritage quest was about to come to an abrupt end.

"You'd think, right." And then Kelev grinned. "Something that size, they'd go one of two ways: either they get in, get out, no fuss, no muss..."

"Or?" Kiera stole herself for being crushed.

"Or they've decided to go big and set up shop."

Kiera sank back against the counter she had been stood against, deflated, which Kelev noticed.

"But, personally, tactically, I'd have to go with the former. Unknown Regions to the Outer Rim: even with the best navcom they're likely to come up short in a system that's off the main trade lanes. It's just bad luck on their part that someone spotted them. They'll be long gone by now."

It took a moment, but Kiera allowed herself a discreet smile, and Kelev rewarded it with a slight nod.

"Heads up!" Kiera was suddenly aware of something flying through the air toward her - only she wasn't actively aware of it - and snatched it out of the air just in front of her face. When she opened her hand she recognised the data stick H'Rin'ton had given Kelev, which Kelev had obviously just thrown at her.

"Why don't you head back to the Star and get that to Cupid or 3L, have them upload it and start planning the jump."

Not bothering to pocket the data stick just yet, Kiera put her hands on her hips and scowled at Kelev.

"Just like that? After telling me about… After BoSS accidentally wiped half the data from half the nav-computers in the galaxy, you're going to trust… your 'friend' here?"

For the briefest of moments Kelev didn't know whether to be angry at or proud of Kiera, but he had a particular pretence to keep up, so for the sake of that he went with mock-exasperation instead.

"Look, you can't keep blaming that whole thirteen thirteen thing on me, alright." Kiera, to her credit, didn't blink. "Besides which, it wasn't permanent, so… Look, get DD or one of the Dummies to scan if first and double blind it if you're that concerned."

Kelev glanced at H'Rin'ton.

"Not that I'm saying that I don't have faith in you - just so you know, 'Rin. Granted, Sey'la and Wha Chu would probably have kittens by the litter if they knew I hadn't at least checked it against a redundant nav system."

For his part, H'Rin'ton chuckled knowingly.

"Hmmm… Good Second Mate always call out Captain on risky proposition when First Mate not about. Meesa like dis!"

Kelev shook his head.

"'Rin ma boo-kee, keelee ka-lya dooka."

The Toydarian laughed, a strangely huge laugh for one so small.

"Your Huttese has improved at least."

Kiera made a show of looking at the data stick, then the Toydarian, then the data stick again, before pocketing it.

"Should I ask 3L to start prep'ing for take-off too?"

"Sure," nodded Kelev. "I won't be too much longer here myself, but there's something I want to ask 'Rin about and… well, to be fair, I'm a firm believer in plausible deniability, so unless you're wanting to stand outside in the rain waiting and then head back to the Star?"

Kiera legitimately didn't quite know what to make of Kelev's request, but ever since he'd first referred to her as The Mourning Star's Second Mate she'd actually felt a responsibility to live up to that fiction. Now, whether he was testing her or not, she had to decide how she was going to play this out.

When she danced she either lost herself in the moment, or in the character she was performing as. Her reaction to being thrown the data stick and Kelev's subsequent request had been one and the same - in essence, a mixture of anger and shock filtered through a vague recollection of her appointed role - but it had also been an honest one given earlier conversations. Certainly Kelev trusted the Toydarian, but that didn't mean she had to, and the same was true - in her mind - of any potential Second Mate Kelev might bring in on the Star: at the very least, 3L would have raised concerns if she understood what Kelev had said about BoSS as they approached Mon Cala.

"Okay, I'll give it to Q-P1D, and ask 3L to prep for take-off. But, since 3L outranks me - Q-P1D outranks me too, probably - I can't guarantee either of them won't decide to leave without you if you stay here too long."

As a closing retort, Kiera thought it had just the right amount of sass to it, and the look on Kelev's face seemed to suggest she'd got it just right.

As she turned to leave Kelev also turned, his eyes tracking her as she made for the door, meaning Kiera caught the sly wink and slight grin meant for her alone.

---

-16-

Once Kelev was certain that Kiera was gone - he stopped short of actually checking at the door - he leaned in toward H'Rin'ton.

"You still running your 'lost and found'?"

The Toydarian feigned a look of shamefaced guilt.

"You disapprove, Kelev Ra?"

Kelev shook his head, chuckling as he did so.

"No. We all got to make a living, 'Rin. And, besides, you've always been mostly reputable - and it's not like you've ever put a gun to anyone's head or actively stolen anything."

"Hmmm… Flattery, Ra."

"It must be my old age," suggested Kelev, "softening my heart."

Like the old friends they were, they both laughed.

"Hmmm… Your query has my curiosity piqued."

Kelev cast his gaze about the room they stood in, looking to see if anything matching his desires leapt out.

"Looking for something: relatively lightweight but sturdy, along the lines of an electrostaff but... preferably collapsible."

H'Rin'ton considered Kelev's description, mentally checking it off against an otherwise inaccessible inventory.

"Something like that... I may have."

Indicating for Kelev to follow him, the Toydarian flew toward the rear of the room and an otherwise obscured stairwell leading to a below deck room.

Unlike the room they had previously occupied, this room was the very picture of order. Transport crates lined one wall three high, end to end, with the opposing wall and the wall opposite the stairs likewise partially hidden from view by varying heights of crates.

H'Rin'ton flew to a pair of crates roughly halfway down the room's length.

"'Exploring' Wild Space out of Utapau 'friends' were. 'Salvaged' a great deal they did, some of which in lieu of credits I took for services rendered."

Pressing a thumb to a scanner, H'Rin'ton opened his preferred crate, gained height, and waited for the lid to open. It took a few moments of careful manoeuvring for him to reach into the crate and retrieve something specific from it - an act that, realistically, he probably wouldn't have attempted in front of anyone he didn't genuinely trust - and produced something cylindrical and roughly the length of a human's arm.

"Lighweight enough for your needs methinks. Sturdy too. For the woman, yes?"

If it was light enough for a Toydarian to lift it fulfilled one of Kelev's criteria. But beyond that?

---

-17-

Having left H'Rin'ton's establishment - she still couldn't quite think of a suitable way to describe it - Kiera began threading her way back toward the landing pad where the Star was berthed.

It should have been a short journey, simply the reverse of the one she had made with Kelev and H'Rin'ton when they'd first arrived, but her mind was elsewhere, preoccupied with thoughts of what she might find on Malachor and the events that had just transpired. As such, one wrong turn led to another.

Her reverie was only broken when she found her path blocked by several individuals.

Ah, no, not several individuals.

A group.

A gang.

As the realisation that she wasn't actually certain of where she was sank in, so too the keening wail of fear began to claw its way up her spine. She didn't, however, give it more than a passing thought.

I grew up on Coruscant, she told herself. I can deal with this.

"Ah, I'm glad I bumped into you," she said with a smile. "I've managed to get turned around on my way to the landing pads. Would any of you mind pointing me in the general direction I should be heading?"

She kept her voice relatively light and breezy whilst feigning a cheery if slightly confused demeanour, hoping that the combination would be sufficient to diffuse whatever situation was unfolding. But, just in case, beneath her borrowed poncho she was gently easing her collapsible dance baton from the belt pouch she'd put it in before leaving the Star.

Amidst general muttering one of the group stepped into her line of sight - an Aquilish - and barked at her in a language she didn't understand.

"My friend says..." began a Quarren off to Kiera's left, but it stopped speaking at roughly the same moment Kiera became aware of footfalls behind her.

"Truth is," she heard Kelev say, "I don't think my Second Mate particularly wants to know what your friend was saying."

Then he was stood beside her.

"I thought you were heading back to the ship, not off sight-seeing," Kelev said affably.

"I got turned around," she said with a slight shrug, determined to keep up appearances in front of the gang.

And then there were another set of footfalls to their rear.

"You're outnumbered, old man," stated the Quarren boldly. "So perhaps we will discuss that cost of passage after all."

Out of the corner of her eye Kiera could just make out Kelev's expression, noting calmly that it hadn't changed, despite the footfalls and the Quarren's implied threat.

Lightning quick, Kelev half turned - facing Kiera - and drew two blasters from beneath his poncho, one aimed at the group ahead of them, and the second...

A quick glance over her should confirmed that Kelev had his second blaster pressed firmly and squarely against the forehead of a heavily scarred Nautolan, his finger lightly resting on the trigger.

"The safety is still on!" sneered the Nautolan, and Kelev responded by squeezing the trigger.

The Nautolan dropped to the ground, stunned.

"No self respecting Mando' has a working safety on their blaster," stated Kelev clearly, as much for the benefit of everyone else as Kiera. "Now, before I change the settings -" Each blaster gave a faint whine "- ah, too late - perhaps you might want to ask yourself how it was The Blackened Talz got those holes in the wall above the bar, and why it is Antzi and Chupa never took me to task over it."

Kiera tried to stay relaxed and in the moment, but her grip tightened on the baton.

For his part, Kelev kept his gaze fixed on Kiera. "And I'm sure Antzi and Chupa will see it my way this time, too," he said to the alley in general.

The Aqualish apparently decided that he was above being put in his place by an old man and a young woman - regardless of their species or race - and went to step forward, bellowing his intent as he did so. Kiera, preternaturally calm and aware of everything around her, half-stepped to one side, pirouetted, and whipped her dancer's baton out. The arc it followed passed clear of the wall beside her, but struck the Aqualish squarely across the cheek and its 'mouth', drawing blood as it did so.

Now bellowing in shock and surprise, the Aqualish took a faltering step back, then recovered a little of its composure and slapped angrily at the Quarren, signalling a retreat to all. As the group ahead of her huddled and began to shamble away - making vaguely menacing noises as they did so - Kiera heard a body being dragged behind her - presumably the Nautolan Kelev had stunned - and held her breath for a few moments.

As the alley emptied of everyone but Kelev and Kiera, the former slowly holstered his blasters and then leaned in toward her ever so slightly, giving her a nod. "Nice," he said quietly. "Now, how about we make tracks ourselves?"

Not daring to open her mouth lest all of the air trapped in her lungs escape by way of a scream or some other equally appropriate hysterics, a wide-eyed Kiera simply nodded her assent, falling in beside Kelev as he set off, matching him stride for stride. She somehow remembered to collapse and stow her dancer's baton, and with each step she found a little more of her composure, her breathing gradually returning to something more in line with what she might consider normal.

---

-18-

Back aboard the Star, Kelev made Kiera take a seat in the lounge and set her up with a glass of something he said would do her some good.

"Tevraki whiskey," Kelev told her, pouring her a hearty measure. "It should help take the edge off while you try to process what just happened."

Kiera drank the liquid in a single mouthful, and hardly even coughed after the fact.

"No safety?" she asked after what seemed like an eternity.

"And what kind of idiot has no safety on a blaster?" A slow smile crept across Kelev's face. "I have them wired backward. Means if someone gets hold of them, they can't use them against me. Plus, it also means if someone wants to play cute..."

He shrugged.

"And that was really nice, what you did."

Internally, she was a mess of warring emotions, riding out the shock and fear on a wave of adrenalin. However, she felt a natural exhilaration, and no small amount of personal pride at being complimented on what she had done. If only...

"I got distracted, ended up somewhere I should have known better than to be."

"And that might be partially my fault," conceded Kelev.

Kiera didn't answer that immediately, but she didn't agree with him so she managed a slight shake if her head.

"Maybe if I'd had a blaster of my own..." she said, and Kelev cut her off.

"Having one doesn't mean a thing. You have to know how to use a blaster."

Kiera stayed silent.

"And even if you can keep hold of it, and it's only set to stun... Blasters have different settings - depending - but even on the weakest one there's always still a chance someone could die. Bowcasters? They're... they'll mess you up, one way or another. Any weapon... They're not meant for defending yourself: they're meant to stop other people wanting to attack you. Problem is, you pull out a vibroblade and someone else pulls out a blaster..."

"There's always a bigger fish," Kiera said, quietly.

"Exactly," agreed Kelev. "And the point isn't to escalate a situation..."

"... but to be prepared if it does escalate," Kiera said, and Kelev rewarded her with a nod.

"You can prepare your whole life for something that never actually happens."

"Or you can just wait, passively," Kiera replied, a little sheepishly.

"And you came prepared. I'm not even going to try and take any credit for that, 'cos it sounds like I might be telling you something you already know."

Kiera shrugged, nursing her glass.

"My parents were... They tried to raise a responsible adult, even if they did encourage some foolish fantasies too."

Kelev nodded appreciatively. "Not the easiest of jobs," he said, "but they seem to have done it right."

He considered giving her what he'd sourced from H'Rin'ton, there and then - he was wearing it across his back, beneath his poncho - but decided that now wasn't the time. Kiera probably needed to come down a little from what she'd just experienced, and probably by doing something familiar.

"Would you be interested in my advice right about now?"

Kiera gave the briefest, slightest of nods, which set Kelev's mind on the matter.

"I suggest you give me the data stick, which I'll duly run passed the guys first to make sure it's safe to upload, after which I'll get us on our way to Malachor."

Seemingly on automatic pilot, Kiera reached under her poncho and retrieved the data stick, passing it to Kelev without any other real interaction.

"And, in the meantime, I suggest you go get that datapad and speaker of yours, you set them up in here, turn up the volume as loud as you like, and you dance until your arms and legs are too heavy to lift."

Kiera took a deep breath, set her glass down, and then slowly stood up.

"That's probably a good idea," she said, her voice a little too quiet, and then she sat down again, but heavily.

She took a couple of deep breaths - "I've got this," she said, looking squarely at Kelev - and then stood up again. "Go. Do things. I'll... annoy you with loud music and... whatever."

---

-19-

In fairness, the sound of music filling The Mourning Star was a welcome change and, despite his initial reservations about what he might have been letting himself in for, Kelev found himself vaguely enjoying it.

Just as he'd expected the data stick H'Rin'ton had provided was entirely safe, but he was glad of there having been another person to call him out on what might have ended up being a costly error caused by blind faith. One of the astromechs had volunteered to run a double blind check on the data, superimposing the Toydarian's star chart on one projected by the Star's own navcom and both plotting the same course. Everything matched up where it was supposed to, and where the gaps were in the Star's navcom charts there was an undeniable sense of rightness and familiarity to systems displayed by the astromech.

By the time Kelev and 3L were sat in the Star's cockpit preparing for departure the music had stopped, and a freshly showered Kiera joined them just as they were about to leave Mon Cala.

---

-20-

With Mon Cala behind them and a blizzard of stars ahead of them Kelev gave 3L a brief glance - to which the droid responded with a nod - and then he turned to face Kiera, cocking his thumb in the general direction of lounge.

"Got something for you."

Once in the lounge Kelev retrieved a bag from beside one of the seats and withdrew something.

"I picked this up for you on Mon Cala," Kelev said, handing her a rod roughly the length of her arm. "H'Rin'ton keeps a well-stocked basement, and not all of it's strictly legal... not that I'm palming off stolen goods on you."

"What is it?" Kiera asked, as she eyed it cautiously.

"An electrostaff. Collapsible. Non-lethal, but it'll give someone pause for thought, and it'll mean a change of pants if you make contact."

"So I'm going to humiliate people rather than hurt them?" Kiera asked, causing Kelev to smile. "You think I'm going to need this?"

"No, but... Well, after what happened… I don't want to make a big thing out it: it was what it was, but one of my many mantras in life is 'It's better to have it and not need it, than need it and not have it'. Consider it a gift."

Kiera twirled the rod experimentally, like a dancer's baton.

"It's not a design I'm familiar with myself," continued Kelev, "but it should be enough."

He made to step forward, and Kiera had to resist the temptation to twirl the rod in his face. That would be just a tad childish, she thought, which immediately put a cheeky little grin on her face.

"You can extend and activate either end independently of one another," Kelev stated, "or both together. The controls are dead centre, near enough."

Continuing to try to take the matter at least relatively seriously Kiera examined the rod, hands at either end, rolling it over slowly and carefully until the controls revealed themselves. They were carefully recessed beneath some kind of gel covering: as such, her fingers couldn't miss their location or operate them accidentally.

Carefully and deliberately she gripped the rod with one hand and operated the switch furthest from that hand. The rod gently bucked in her hand, eliciting a slight gasp from Kiera, and doubled in length.

Her cheeky grin had become a slightly nervous one.

She operated the switch again, and half of the length that had just revealed itself lit up, a brilliant deep blue, thrumming and spitting and crackling.

"You tap someone with that and they're going to think twice about getting too close," Kelev said, his tone flat, his face sombre. "Hold it against someone for longer, you'll incapacitate them. Connect with it hard enough or long enough and it can stop a person's heart."

Kiera fingered the switch again, and the shock tip went dead.

"That might be... a little too much."

A slow smile crept across Kelev's face. "Now, how about you try doing your dance routine with that and see how it feels?"

With the shock tip still inactive but extended Kiera made a few exploratory twirls and lunges with the electrostaff, before stepping out onto the floor proper. The weight and balance were alien to her but she adapted quickly, adjusting her reach and her swing, tailoring her movements to accommodate for the differences.

A barely audible 'whoosh' caught her attention, and she turned to face it.

Before she fully understood what she was seeing or realised what she was doing she had fingered the activation switch to light up the shock tip and was swinging the electrostaff to block the incoming blaster bolt.

She was close, but not close enough, and yelped as the bolt slapped her in the thigh.

"Pfassk!"

Kelev held his hands up in mock surrender almost immediately.

"I know, I know..."

"You kriffing... nerf herder!" Kiera spat, but almost immediately she broke into a grin and laughed.

Kelev offered her a shrug.

"You okay?"

Kiera made to rub her thigh, but her hand stopped halfway.

"... yeah, actually."

Kelev cocked his thumb toward the sphere hovering at roughly head height across from them both.

"Combat remote. Might not have come across one before. Class 2. Don't know of many people who still have them let alone use them, but they're good for practice. Heard of them being used for defence in an emergency too, but..."

"It shot me."

"Yeah?"

"... well, I suppose it's no worse than my dance instructor hitting me with her cane," Kiera grinned sheepishly.

"She did that regularly?"

"A lot less than her other students."

Kelev nodded. "Well, you seem to be well keyed in to your surroundings. I didn't expect you to pick up on the remote."

Eyeing the droid cautiously it was Kiera's turn to shrug. "I... I think I heard it, but I'm not sure."

"So, I should just leave him here while you carry on then?"

Kiera might have huffed ever so slightly, but there was the hint of a glint in her eyes.

The point, Kelev said, wasn't to try and deflect the shots, but to be aware of the threat and take the appropriate action. Even on the lowest setting the combat remote's blaster bolts eventually took their toll, and the low level ache in Kiera's arms and legs - still heavy from her earlier therapeutic exertion - attested to their cumulative effect. When 3L alerted them to their impending arrival in the Malachor system she wasn't in the slightest bit sad to see the remote shut down and stowed away; however, she was strangely exhilarated by how well - relatively speaking - she had done defending herself against it. True, she'd been far more miss than hit, but she felt she'd become better at dodging the shots as the journey had gone on.

---

-21-

Kiera was making an effort not to appear excited, but it was a feigned nonchalance that Kelev saw through instantly.

"Better strap in," he noted dryly. "No telling what we'll come out into."

"And here I thought the nav-computer and all those astromechs made sure we arrived in safe space."

Kiera might have pouted ever so slightly, and Kelev gave her a wry grin.

"Some things don't show up on charts. Too recent, or just plain unknown. The guys don't know everything, and H'Rin'ton's gift only goes -" The blizzard of stars blurred and refocused, and then shifted back to normal space, and... "- Oh, spast!"

Directly ahead of them, in the shadow of the red planet behind it, was a First Order Star Destroyer.

"So much for not having to worry about the First Order..."

Kelev deliberately jerked and released the controls to put the Star into a slanting spin, killing the sub-light engines as he did so. "3L, we need to go dark."

"Going dark," stated the droid, and The Mourning Star did so, literally, as the droid instantly shut down everything bar life support.

A moment or two passed, and then the ship's emergency lighting kicked in.

Kelev slowly counted under his breath, and easily reached twenty.

"Hmmm..."

"What?"

Kiera had an air of confusion mixed with fear and excitement, and she practically thrummed in her seat.

"They should have lit us up the moment we came out of hyperspace. Might be nothing, but... 3L, are the guys registering anything... unusual?"

"Parameters?" queried the droid.

"Outside of expected operational output norm's for a First Order Star Destroyer."

Silence reigned, and Kelev's eyes didn't leave the Star Destroyer until the Star's rotation put it out of view.

"Interesting," concluded 3L. "They are registering no output whatsoever."

"Which means?" asked Kiera.

"Which means," replied Kelev, as he began to toggle switches, press buttons, and called up a holo-display, "we're looking at a dead Star Destroyer in a low - make that a decaying - orbit above Malachor."

"Shall I restore full function?" enquired 3L.

"Sure, 3L. Thanks."

Kiera frowned, as much at the exchange between human and droid - which she still found to be too familiar for comfort - as the situation they were all in. "Why would the First Order still be here?"

"If I may," offered the droid, "might I suggest an expedition?

Kelev appeared not to be interested, apparently continuing to examine various holo-displays and readouts as the Star's systems powered back up.

"An expedition?" queried Kiera.

"Indeed. The First Order maintained a political presence in the Galactic Senate until relatively recently, so it would be entirely probable that they were granted access to Republic archives. Thus they would also have had access to whatever archive fragments remain from before the rise of the Empire..."

"Means they might know why Maul was here," said Kelev plainly.

"So they're down there?"

"If they are then everyone is down there," Kelev stated, pointing to one of the holo-displays. "That Star Destroyer is on emergency power only. Life support looks to be fine, but there's no life signs on board. I'm not even registering any droid activity."

"My colleagues confirm your assessment," offered 3L, clearly not bothered by Kelev having cut him off. "The vessel is adrift and at peace."

Kiera looked at 3L, a brief glance that formed into a slight frown: where did a droid learn to talk like that?

Kelev sat himself a little more upright in his chair. "I need to get on board and find out what happened."

"Why?"

He held out his left hand and nodded toward it. "Because we either arrive on the surface and find it swarming with a Star Destroyer's worth of First Order troops and officers -" He held out his right hand and nodded toward it "- or we get back up here from the surface and run into whatever it is that left that Star Destroyer dying slowly.

Kiera nodded her understanding. "Which is more likely?"

Without answering her question directly, Kelev turned to the 3L.

"3L? I need one of the guys to find us a working docking ring on that hulk or, maybe, an accessible landing bay. A bay would be better - I'd prefer the Star not to be exposed if something comes back for another pass."

A moment passed before 3L said, "R3-DD advises he served the Alliance on a requisitioned Imperial II-class Star Destroyer following the Battle of Endor, and his familiarity may be compatible with a First Order Star Destroyer."

"Outstanding," grinned Kelev. "I'll bring us within EVA range, and then he can tell us where he wants dropped off."

---

-22-

The Star Destroyer simply hung there, a dull grey chevron illuminated only by the system's sun. As The Mourning Star made its slow approach both Kelev and Kiera were able to discern the incrementally slow roll of the vessel, as if it were slowly capsizing, probably as a result of Malachor's gravity pulling at its upper superstructure.

Drawing closer, it became apparent that the vessel also had its own debris field.

No one who travels regularly in space likes to think the word blowout, much less say it out loud, but Kelev found it repeating itself in his head as he surveyed the deteriorating halo of debris around the Star Destroyer. There was probably an algorithm or similar that he could access to estimate the length of time the vessel had been adrift and at peace - as 3L had put it - based on the debris field and its deterioration...

If there had been signs of spluttering fires;

If there had been scorch marks on the hull;

If the engines were visibly misfiring;

It had been standard operating procedure for the Imperial Navy to dump their trash before making the jump to hyperspace, so it was likely that the First Order would follow the same procedure. The debris field might be nothing more than that. No blowout. No disaster.

Kelev had survived being a member of both the Death Watch and the Shadow Collective; he'd been a super commando who had answered, ultimately, to Maul, and he'd survived the insane machinations of the Zabrak; he'd survived as a bounty hunter for a further forty years after that, give or take. He hadn't survived those situations and for that long without a certain degree of natural caution and common sense, and no small amount of on the job training - known more often as experience in certain circles. It was the latter informing the former at this moment, offset by the unconscious knowledge that a salvaged First Order Star Destroyer would probably make someone relatively wealthy - one way or another.

With 3L sat in the co-pilot's seat making adjustments of its own, he carefully positioned the Star alongside of the Star Destroyer, waiting for the signal to hold position.

3L nodded as it manually fired the landing jets, countering The Mourning Star's natural inertia as Kelev cut the engines, bringing the ship to a graceful full stop adjacent to upper superstructure.

R3-DD had presumably made a calculated risk assessment and decided that an airlock near to the bridge would be a better bet than finding an accessible hangar. Kelev hadn't been part of the decision-making process but that wasn't something he was concerned by; the droids had almost always come through in the past - not even droids could claim a perfect track record - and they probably held him in similar esteem.

Now, while DD found a suitable airlock for 3L to line up with, it was time for Kelev to find his focus and suit up for whatever was to come.

---

-23-

Telling Kiera she was staying on The Mourning Star went just about as well as he expected.

"It's my charter," she bristled, "so it's my call, and I'm not staying here whilst you're off roaming about on that ship."

Kelev remained calm, shedding his top layer of clothing whilst he spoke.

"With respect, Kiera, I have no idea what I'm going to find on that ship, and I would prefer not to be worrying about where you are or what you're doing while I'm at it."

Unperturbed, Kiera stared pointedly as Kelev began to put on the red and black armour.

"You already said that the ship is dead."

"And that's what bothers me," he replied. "Those things have a compliment of a few thousand to tens of thousands of people and droids. Even with the bare minimum... Look, this genuinely has me on edge, and I don't usually get on edge. Now, I don't mind getting in there; it'll be like the old days for me. But, if things go bad... well, I'm covered, and if you're here then I know you're covered too. 3L and the guys will get you out of here, and they'll either take you back to Corusant or wherever you'd prefer to be dropped off."

"Oh?" responded Kiera, incredulously. "So you die and I get this ship?"

"Not quite." Kelev chuckled dryly. "You get a guaranteed ride home. My daughter gets The Mourning Star, and the fee for this charter."

Kiera gave that its due consideration, before asking, "And who pilots the Star in the meantime?"

"3L and the guys."

"But DD isn't in the farm. He's over there... he'll be over there... with you."

"Don't tell anyone, but I don't think the Star needs astromechs in all six bays to run."

Kiera had initially been staring pointedly at Kelev as he began to strip down and then put on his armour, but now she was truly taking in the details of the application, admiring the fluidity and grace of an otherwise practical act - without her harassment, Kelev would probably have found it meditative - and the form and finish of the armour itself.

"So I'm expected just to sit here, waiting until you come back or until your droids -"

"- They're not my droids, they're the Star's droids... and the Star is their ship -"

"- the droids take me home... wherever that might be."

Kelev picked up the red and black horned helmet that completed his armour, mindful of the horns despite everything he was wearing.

"Kiera, I get the feeling that if anyone ever expected you to just sit around doing nothing just because they told you to they'd be in for a fight. That's not what I'm saying: I'm asking you to stay here until I know we're safe. After that, if you want to go exploring..."

He started to reach into the recess behind where his armour had been stored then stopped.

"3L? Any word yet from DD?"

A moment passed before 3L responded.

"He apologises. He neglected to consider the physical requirements of accessing an emergency airlock, but has now re-coordinated his search parameters accordingly."

"You mean he got cocky?"

"Not necessarily the terminology I might have used… but, yes, I'm afraid so."

"No big deal, 3L. Keep me posted?"

"I will."

Kelev sat down and allowed himself to relax a little. Then, aware of the passage of time, he nodded in the general direction of the cockpit.

"So, all things being equal," stated Kiera, "it looks like I picked the right ship to charter then."

"Nah." Kelev finally reached into the recess behind his armour, and brought out something that looked like a blaster but obviously wasn't. "You picked the right cantina, and the right person to speak to in that cantina, and then they put you on to me."

"And that'll be because of your reputation?" Kiera asked, her tone good-natured.

"In part," chuckled Kelev. "Wha Chu has a high opinion of me - for some reason. But mentioning Maul might have been the clincher though."

"'Everyone has a past', right. You and he... I know you share part of one, yes?"

"I fought for him on Zanbar and Ord Mantell, and I helped... I was part of what happened on Mandalore before that, during the Clone Wars. But… For what it's worth, I was a pawn and I was expendable. Turns out I wasn't even that: I was a pawn's pawn. Maul had his agenda, and someone else had an agenda Maul was part of... near as I could figure at any rate. Took me a long time to feel like I could make things right back home after all of that."

Just as they had reached the cockpit DD notified 3L that the astromech had found a suitable airlock, and Kelev took his seat next to 3L, the pair of them working seamlessly in tandem to re-align The Mourning Star with the docking ring DD had finally selected. As they worked Kiera knew enough to keep quiet: this was delicate work, and their concentration could do without her interruptions.

In the relative silence that followed time stretched out until a proximity alarm quietly sounded, followed by a distinctly solid sound coming from somewhere directly behind the cockpit.

"Nice work, 3L," Kelev said quietly as he rose from his seat.

Kiera was already out of her seat, and had picked up Kelev's helmet and 'blaster' from the spare seat before he was fully upright.

"I'm sorry if I opened an old wound," she said, handing each item to him carefully.

"Nah," he replied, shrugging. "I made peace with myself a long time ago now, and paid enough penance. Can't undo what I did - or was a part of - but..."

They walked slowly along the cockpit corridor.

"So why take this charter? Isn't it... uncomfortable for you?"

"Uncomfortable? No. If Maul was on Malachor then he's probably long since gone, and if he's still there then... Well, it's been fifty or so years since I last saw Maul. I can't rightly say I know how long Zabraks usually live - or whether being only half a Zabrak changes that - so..."

Confused, Kiera asked, "Half a Zabrak?"

A dry laugh caught in Kelev's throat. "Ah... right. When the Death Watch allied with Maul he had a vendetta against a Jedi; short version, the Jedi had cut him in half. From the waist down he was all machine as a result, hence 'half a Zabrak'."

Kiera nodded, despite the perplexing nature of how anyone could survive something so traumatic. "So if he's still on Malachor you expect him to be dead?"

"If he's still on Malachor... well, truthfully, I think the Jedi who cut him half expected him to be dead too, so I'm not making any wagers, regardless of where he's ended up."

"Is that the hint of a grudge I detect?" Kiera asked, a sense of playfulness in her voice and eyes.

Kelev might have given her a slight sideways glance. "Some things I never thought I'd get closure on. Maul's one of those things. After Ord Mantell he vanished, pretty much. Might have been a suggestion he made for Dathomir… but the Separatists levelled everything and everyone there."

"So much for my heritage," opined Kiera with a brief shrug.

"Aw, don't be like that. One thing I've learned in seventy odd years: you can salvage pretty much anything if you're willing to put in the effort."

It didn't take long for DD to signal that the seal was good, after which Kelev took another moment or two to check his equipment one last time and focus himself before stepping into the airlock.

He gave Kiera a brief nod before sealing the door, then took a deep breath and donned his helmet. As the airlock cycled and equalised he swallowed once, his ears adjusting to the temporarily closed environment of his Mandalorian armour. A moment or two later the Star Destroyer's dock opened, and Kelev purposefully but cautiously made his way across.

Setting first one then both feet aboard the Star Destroyer he paused, scanning the immediate area before stepping forward into the Star Destroyer proper, then half-turned to thumb the controls and seal the airlock.

Now he just had to wait for DD to catch up.

---

-24-

With Kelev aboard the Star Destroyer Kiera was left to wait for his all clear before joining him, and it was now that weariness hit her hard.

Yes, she'd slept for part of the journey to Mon Cala, but since then she'd had the fight-or-flight adrenalin rush of the face off in the alleyway, the physical exertion of dancing that off - not to mention the mental exhaustion that went with it - and then her first foray with the electrostaff.

Truthfully, and much to her chagrin, she probably wouldn't have been fit to explore the derelict with Kelev anyway - not without being a liability. Besides, the Star Destroyer wasn't the reason why they were here: it was a distraction at best. Their real goal lay beyond, below, on Malachor.

"3L," she said lightly, a sheepish grin on her face, "I'm going to go and lie down for a while. Much as I hate to say it, I think I've already had too much excitement for one day."

The droid nodded.

"Humour?"

A laugh escaped before Kiera caught it.

"Maybe. But, seriously, I might just listen to some music for a while or sleep - try to process... stuff. Would you mind letting me know if anything happens?"

3L may have sat up just a little straighter at her request, and nodded once more.

"Even we droids sometimes need downtime to process... 'stuff'," the droid said, its voice somehow seeming more human. "One of us will notify you if anything of note occurs, Kiera. In the meantime, please, rest."

Having admitted to herself how weary she actually felt, it was all Kiera could do to shuffle to her cabin, rather than stride purposefully, and when she got there it took all of her remaining strength - or so it seemed to her - just to kick her boots off before lying down.

She was asleep and dreaming almost as soon as her head touched the pillow.

---

-25-

The lights flickered and stuttered in the access way to the airlock, emergency power giving way to the bare minimum of life support as Kelev began to make his way toward the bridge.

But he didn't need the lighting to see what was wrong with the Star Destroyer.

DD had circled 'round via a service hatch on the Star to join Kelev in the airlock, and as the droid trundled alongside its whistles and chirps had a sombre air.

Inside of his helmet, DD's dialogue flashed up on one of Kelev's monocles translated into Mando'a.

Come to Malachor, they said. It'll be fun, they said.

Apparently the astromech had a grim sense of humour.

"Can't say I'm enjoying the scenery too much myself, DD."

A ship this size would have had a crew of near enough eighty thousand souls - roughly a quarter of that being its officers - and at a rough guess Kelev put the fatality rate at one hundred percent.

The first bodies were charred and twisted, perhaps the result of a thermal detonator.

The next set were equally as twisted out true, but they looked to have been repeatedly gored.

"I've got a bad feeling about this."

DD only offered a baleful wail, having rounded a corner marginally ahead of Kelev.

A handful of bodies were strung up along the walls of the corridor, each run through by chains and hooks.

"I've got a really bad feeling about this."

Another corridor, and another horror show: a dozen or more stormtroopers literally torn limb from limb, their parts distributed liberally and randomly; another dozen stormtroopers literally torn in half; another dozen stormtroopers...

This looks... wrong.

Kelev had seen the dead in various forms, sometimes piled high, but for a droid to make that comment?

He took a deep breath - glad of the sealed nature of his armour - and concentrated on the body DD was inspecting.

At first nothing seemed amiss, save for the wholesale butchering which had occurred.

Then, slowly, the reality of it became apparent.

The body before him wasn't a single body: it was near enough a dozen separate body parts, laid out just so.

Separate parts. From separate bodies.

There were helmets full on entrails; helmets filled with offal; helmets filled with...

The armour's self-contained environment expired, and as its seals popped the stench assaulted Kelev's nostrils and he instantly gagged and retched.

"If you think this looks bad, DD, you should be happy you can't smell it too."

For a few moments after he'd boarded the Star Destroyer he'd considered that something big and angry had broken loose - everyone had heard stories of what enraged Wookiees were capable of - but there was a level of sickness and brutality on display that required a clarity of thought a Madclaw of any species was unlikely to possess.

"DD, can you access one of the ports and see if you can reroute emergency power into the security systems? This..."

His words trailed off, but they weren't needed: DD was just as aware of the inherent wrongness of what was on display.

The astromech quickly found a computer terminal and attempted to access it. Several slightly annoyed beeps and squeaks followed - going untranslated by Kelev's helmet - and then DD gave a gleeful whoop as it managed to jump start the terminal.

DD hummed and whirred, working the port almost faster than it should allow.

I am a leaf on the wind; watch me soar!

There wasn't a droid on the Star that behaved like any other droid he had ever met, and it was at moments like this that Kelev appreciated that fact most.

DD swivelled its dome - Stop your grinning, and drop your linen! - and then the droid's holo-projector lit up.

"I don't know where you learned to speak..."

One diorama after another played out in miniature as DD cycled through the best part of a hundred different corridors, whilst Kelev's hand hovered over the manual controls for his shield and cloak.

Each holographic projection told the same story.

"Still nothing moving but us?"

Nothing... But...

"But?"

The ship's internal sensors are detecting an unusual energy signature two decks below the main bridge. It appears to be a secure area, but... I might be mistaken, but it bears a distinct similarity to a hyperspace signature... and then it changes...

"Changes to what?"

If it were possible, the astromech gave the distinct impression it was frowning.

In terms you are you familiar with: a black hole.

Kelev was certain he had misread the translation.

"My helmet says you just said 'a black hole'."

I know!

"So you really did say 'a black hole'?"

I'm really glad that we have your helmet to translate what I've said so that you can read it back to me so that I'm certain of what I've just said…

Kelev didn't quite know what to make of the droid's comment.

The holo-projector shut off, and DD disconnected from the access portal.

I should apologise. My life is hyperspace co-ordinates, gravity wells, and occasionally interfacing with other operational systems in all of their various forms. I sometimes forget that less hardy species such as yourself are not as well acquainted with astronomical phenomenon as myself.

"DD. You know me well enough, so I'm going to speak plainly: what in the name of Qasak are you talking about?"

There is something in a secure area two decks below the bridge which reads as both a hyperspace signature - specifically, it's emitting Cronau radiation - and a sizeable mass shadow - the event horizon of a huge realspace/hyperspace gravity well - such as a black hole.

Kelev found himself wondering: did that mean the First Order had something similar to the Empire's Immobilizer 418?

The smell and taste in the air had become less noticeable, such that Kelev didn't even realise he took a deep a breath before answering the droid. The breath came out as a sigh, and he allowed himself a slight smile.

"So… not an information void or something you just can't see then?"

Oh, this would be an example of 'humour', yes? Deflecting guilt?

Kelev grunted.

"Don't push your luck, DD. Accidents happen, remember."

The astromech emitted a series of clicks and noises Kelev's helmet failed to translate, which he duly interpreted as being Binary expletives.

"And E chuta! to you too, DD. Now… which way to the bridge, so we can try to find out what's actually happening?"

Now fully uncoupled from the access terminal, DD turned to face Kelev.

If I were a faithful little droid I'd point you that way… it said, turning its body to face down one corridor whilst its domed faced looked directly at Kelev.

"But, since you're also a syndicated shareholder in any salvage rights…"

I'd definitely be going that way myself, too.

Kelev might have chuckled to himself.

---

-26-

The song was enticing; enchanting; hypnotic...

It spoke to her of promises already made; promises still to be made; promises never to be broken. It twisted and it turned, a melody she could never anticipate, a rhythm she could never replicate, absorbing and consuming her. There were words she could not hear, in a language she did not understand, speaking of things she had no knowledge of. And yet... it was so familiar, as if it were a lullaby she'd been sung as a babe in arms.

The song was haunting, and with it came visions...

... of Dathomiri women, their heads shorn and bare or wrapped in crimson, their faces marked darkly and symmetrically, each one unique, walking between trees; ... of trees laden with cocoons, hung from threads like cables, gently swaying in a misty breeze; ... of a green mist, winding its way through the sparse foliage, moving with ephemeral grace toward the source of the singing.

She tried to concentrate on the women - her sisters, she felt, but for the barren stretch of the generations since their slaughter - but the song had her ensnared and her vision was locked unerringly on the path she walked.

Because it was herself she was watching walk, but it was a version of herself she might never have imagined before. Being alone in a world of strangers had meant a life of fending off the weak or the fearful, and her armour had been to appear mundane, dressing for utility rather than fancy, and wearing her hair practically. The version of herself that walked the woods of Dathomir had cast off that life. The woman - who wasn't her but was - wore leather or velvet; they wore their hair short and bleached and spiky or shaved; they were deathly pale or naturally so...

And then it was her, but unlike she had ever pictured herself before. There was leather and velvet, her midriff exposed, her arms bare; her hair was undercut, but long and loose or braided, coloured and vibrant, or both; there was makeup that might have been tattoos that might have been natural markings that might have been...

Her skin was vibrant, glowing...

---

-27-

As he stepped onto the bridge he heard it before he saw it, and was eternally thankful for that fact, because had he seen it first he might have faltered.

The laboured breathing;

The grunts of pained effort;

The sound of something being dragged followed by a dull thud, repeated;

The maddening white noise discharge of…

Kelev was no small man by any metric, but the Wookiee - or what remained of it - towered above him.

Half of its face had been scorched bare, the flesh exposed, and where that half's eye had been was a crudely inserted…

Had it come from an astromech, Kelev wondered.

Its face was not alone in having been scorched and reworked.

In Kelev's experience Wookiees rarely submitted to cybernetics, but this one had been thoroughly 'enhanced' - surely too pleasing a word for the horrors wrought upon it; burned and maimed; disfigured, then reconfigured; the whole bound together in unnatural ways. In places fur and flesh had been peeled back to expose mechanisms beneath, however arcane and archaic they might appear, only to be laced back together in new configurations to highlight the atrocity. Elsewhere, fur had been parted and flesh gently teased away from what lay immediately below to render taut what should have been free to move as the Wookiee did, leaving it pained and aggrieved by every movement. And in its hand, the source of the nerve-jangling sound…

No, not in its hand: of its hand…

In all of his years hunting or salvaging, Kelev had not once seen a Wookiee so much as look at a lightsaber - 'though he hadn't seen one himself since the end of the Clone Wars - so his brain took a moment to process what he was seeing.

In place of the Wookiee's right hand was a…

A lightsaber?

Pre Vizsla had wielded the Darksaber until Maul relieved him of both it and command of the Death Watch, and Kelev recalled both that and the distinctly different lightsabers wielded by Opress and Kenobi, however dimly.

But this?

It crackled and stuttered, a barely contained and raging storm of luminescent plasma running jagged from hilt to tip, and where the hilt connected to the Wookiee's stump two much smaller jets of plasma spluttered outward also. Its colour was questionable, as changeable and unstable as the blades themselves, lending nothing reassuring to its bearer or the passageway it inhabited, but its core was unquestionable in colour and appearance: it was nothing less than black lightning.

Kelev might not have witnessed its like before but it was no less a lightsaber for that fact, as the Wookiee's lopsided gait causing it to drag and spark on the floor, which duly melted away on contact.

And then the Wookiee saw him.

It roared something unintelligible and untranslatable - a profanity? a curse? - and set its feet to charge.

A Wookiee in full flight is terrifying enough, but this was something far worse.

This was a Madclaw.

Kashyyyk is a world of lush forests, and forests have trees; if you are as big and as heavy as a Wookiee then there is only one way you are going to climb those trees. Natural selection had seen to it that Wookiees had claws every bit as large and as intimidating as their owners, but social mores dictated that they never be used for anything but climbing: to do otherwise was a death sentence. One such Madclaw had chosen to flee Kashyyyk before sentence was passed, a self-imposed exile it deemed preferable and which led it to a life of bounty hunting… or so legend had it.

As the Wookiee charged Kelev's mind slowed the world around him, adrenaline flooding his system, giving him time to reflect on the bodies he had seen after boarding the Star Destroyer. He'd considered a Madclaw might have been responsible - maybe even a Trandoshan or a Selkath - but the way in which the bodies had been left…

The Wookiee moved with less speed than Kelev might have expected - the pain of movement alone was enough to slow it, whilst the parts that were not actually natural to the Wookiee might have hindered it further - but the force of its blows would be no less powerful, so Kelev planned his own movements as best he could whilst hoping that he would have enough tricks to keep him alive long enough to bring heavy weaponry to bear.

The Wookiee swung with the remnants of its organic hand, its claws fully exposed, but it was a wild swing that Kelev easily avoided.

It was a deliberately wild swing.

Kelev had guessed it would be - and had hoped as much - because he presumed the real threat would come from an unseen quarter or - he hoped - the stuttering, crackling torrent of plasma.

The Wookiee swung its stump-saber at the Mandalorian.

If Kelev had been the man most people thought he was when they looked at him, he would have died there and then.

Instead, trusting his instincts, trusting his reactions, trusting the armour he wore, he swept out an arm to block and parry the incoming lightsaber.

It spat, and it hissed, and it made a noise like a high tension coil burning out, but it didn't cut through the phrik alloy plating on Kelev's forearm.

It did, however, cause the armour's primary failsafe to activate.

The sudden interaction of an energy weapon and the armour ran through to the cortosis mesh beneath it, channelling that energy and tripping the cloak, instantly rendering Kelev all but invisible to the naked eye. A moment thereafter, it also fired up the shield.

Kelev was already stepping back from the Wookiee as it made to swing its stump-saber once more, setting the jump pack to give him enough breathing space for what he intended to do next. It fired up silently - repulsorlift technology being far safer than rockets - and when he landed, lightly and well out of the Wookiee's reach, he instantly went into a crouch - making for a smaller target - as he reached back to bring his preferred toy into play.

He'd earned the bowcaster long ago, and it had been crafted on Kashyyyk to his own specifications. As he brought it out of hiding he thumbed the catch that released the arms, and the weapon was ready to fire by the time he had it tucked into his shoulder.

Kelev inhaled.

Even in the heat of battle a single breath might be all that stands between the perfect shot and a near miss.

He gently squeezed the trigger.

The bolt flew true, and took the Wookie's head off in a spray of green mist and black lightning.

---

-28-

The whispering led her inexorably down corridor after corridor.

She couldn't pinpoint actual words nor could she articulate what the sounds she heard made her feel, but the ecstatic calm she felt deep in her core drove her forward.

Never straying too far from the corridor walls, she stalked like a predator, her footfalls near silent, even in the cavernous space of the deserted Star Destroyer, and as the lighting began to fail her purloined armour blended in with the shadows. If the security systems were functional she would no doubt have been spotted, but to the naked eye and the unaided ear she was all but a ghost.

The effect of the voices in her head was similar, masking the world she stalked through, leaving her blind to the atrocities visited upon the Star Destroyer's legions. She saw nothing of the dismembered bodies; she smelt nothing of their charred remains; the charnel house stench of slowly spoiling meat tinged with the acrid smell of burned circuitry failed to assail her nostrils.

All that she knew was the whispering song in her head, gently tugging her along the path only she could see before her.

---

-29-

"DD? Do a once over for any more life signs."

The astromech beeped and squelched, causing Kelev to frown.

Yours have been the only life signs I've detected since we boarded.

Still frowning, Kelev cast a glance back in the direction of headless Wookiee.

"In that case... Can you find a way to get the security shields up in here?"

DD made for the nearest access point, engaged it, and whirred and clicked away to itself for several moments.

As the Star Destroyer groaned - entirely natural, Kelev concluded, given its current predicament - shielding sprang to life throughout the bridge.

I think I should have a nice, friendly chat with the ship's computer, stated DD as it disengaged from the access terminal. There's a lot I don't like about things here.

Suppressing a smile, Kelev removed his helmet.

"If it's got anything interesting to say, let me know."

While DD attempted to make slightly less than idle chatter with the Star Destroyer's main computer Kelev took stock of the bridge. Its contents were no different than elsewhere on the ship, but these were people in uniforms rather than troopers in armour: somehow, that made it more disturbing, with each atrocity plain to view.

A younger Kelev might have viewed it differently, seeing it as even-handed, the brutality visited upon each crew member being no different regardless of uniform.

It was probably a good thing, then, that it wasn't a younger Kelev Ra who was here.

He'd seen any number of battlefields after the fact so he wasn't likely to be shellshocked by the number of bodies he'd seen thus far, but he'd never seen anything approaching the level of inhumanity that had apparently been shown to the dead here. At first he'd been willing to suspend his disbelief and accept the notion of a Madclaw of one species or another, no matter how twisted the remains suggested it might be, but the Wookiee had undone that notion.

Reports were sketchy at best where the First Order were concerned but, given their history as an Imperial remnant that had apparently grown strong in seclusion, he presumed them to be equally as speciesist as the Empire had been. The Empire had enslaved any number of species in pursuit of building their military might - both Death Stars were built by non-human slaves for the most part - so it stood to reason that the First Order took a similarly dim view of other sentients. Even with that in mind, however, Kelev couldn't quite picture the level of depravity required to do the things that had been done to the Wookiee.

And the lightsaber?

Time passed, and then the silence was broken by a series of disgruntled beeps and clicks from DD. Over time a person might pick up the very basics of Binary - much like they might pick up the basics of Shyriiwook - but very few organics could ever fully understand the language. Kelev couldn't even claim that, never having even an inkling of what any of the astromechs on the Star were saying without 3L to translate. DD understood this, and waited patiently for Kelev to put his helmet back on before continuing.

"And?"

An Alliance technician once said that the Imperial II-class Star Destroyer had 174,000 design flaws waiting to be exploited. Apparently, the First Order added another.

Given their earlier conversation, Kelev gave a considered response. "Care to clarify?"

It's... There's no discernible information: no coordinates; no destinations; no logs.

"First Order protocols?"

A logical conclusion, but no. It's as if...

"As if it's not making any sense?"

There's no sense to be made. Even bypassing its less than rudimentary communication skills to interrogate its memory, the computer is... it's just not there.

Kelev was about to ask what DD meant but then stopped himself. The translation was just words on a display, but the noises DD was making had a note of distress about them.

"Hmmm... So you've registered Cronau radiation and a mass shadow, simultaneously, in the same location, two decks below where we currently are, and no life signs other than mine."

He didn't need to look around at the carnage, least of all the remains of the Wookiee.

You won't be too offended if I say I hope it only affects organics... but I'd be much happier if we could leave sooner rather than later.

Kelev rested a hand on the astromech's head, nodding his agreement. "Get what you can, then we get out of here."

With the bridge secured and DD interrogating the Star Destroyer's primary computer system, Kelev allowed himself a moment to draw a breath and assess the situation: in a word, grim.

He activated his commlink.

---

-30-

Her vision swam.

The swampy red-lit forest with its swollen, low-hanging fruit melted away, but the mist remained, albeit of a different hue. Where it had been green now it was red, but this too was an illusion.

Panic set in almost immediately.

Claustrophobia came a close second.

She felt constricted - trapped - in an alien environment, and her sense of panic continued to mount.

A moment passed, and then another, the sound of her breath - rapid gasps, panting - amplified.

I'm wearing a helmet...

The dawning realisation had her reacting before she even thought it through, clawing at the helmet and practically ripping it off her head with the briefest of hisses.

Too late, she had the helmet in her hands, the integrity of the suit she wore violated, and she fought to not breath.

Tears streamed from her eyes and her lungs screamed at her, eclipsing the abject terror she suddenly felt, and then her body rebelled and she had no choice but to exhale or burst...

The inhalation was entirely without her consent, and she expected nothing less than searing pain.

Her body worked against her will, until further realisation dawned.

Her panicked breathing became the gasps of a person refuelling rather than dying.

At some point she had collapsed to the floor, bitingly cold despite what she now realised was Kelev's other set of Mandalorian armour, worn atop a base layer she was equally unaware of having put on. Slowly, she stood, thrusting her hands beneath her armpits in an effort to banish the freezing cold from them.

Some kind of cold store?

She turned on the spot, and gasped.

She was on one side of a large blast door, and beyond that door was a corridor.

I'm on the Star Destroyer.

A moment ago she'd been in her cabin aboard The Mourning Star, and now?

She felt a vague uneasiness at the notion of finding herself on a different ship with no real idea of how she had gotten there.

The corridor was where she had been. But as to where she now was?

The room she had found herself in was sizeable enough to hold a starfighter, accessible via its cardinal points with each blast door equally sizeable, but it was practically an empty space. There were a handful of portable workstations dotted about the room and a section at its heart that was ray shielded, but otherwise it was a barren white space coloured by its central contents.

At its centre, behind the ray shields, sat a single workstation with some form of cooling system beneath it - or so Kiera presumed, given the nature and temperature of the 'mist' leaking from the canisters and somehow spilling out across the floor.

The ray shield spluttered, coinciding with the room's lighting blinking out, and more of the 'mist' spilled out.

"Ah, that makes... sense."

Atop the work station was a single item, suspended a hand's width above the surface: a cube, roughly a hand and a half per side, poised on a single corner.

Kiera's mind immediately latched on to a single word.

"Holocron."

She'd never seen a holocron before - few people in living memory had - but her studies had referenced them regularly enough for her to presume she knew what she was looking at.

The work station's surface was presumably fitted with a small scale repulsorlift system - just as presumably powered independently of the room - allowing the object to be viewed from any angle with the minimum of effort on the part of an observer. As she circled it, slowly and cautiously, she tried to make out the supposed holocron's details through the spluttering ray shield. It looked to be a polished, transparent black glass, inlaid with intricate gold patterns that appeared to mirror one another on opposite sides, and at its heart something flickered. What that something was, she couldn't tell, but it might have been a brilliant crimson - or that might have simply been the after-effect of the ray shielding as it continued to fail.

How she had found herself to be here notwithstanding, she was fascinated and exhilarated, her curiosity well and truly piqued.

---

-31-

"We've secured the bridge, 3L, and DD's plugged in, 'though he doesn't appear to be too happy with what he's found." DD offered a comment of its own which Kelev didn't fully register. "Life support appears functional throughout the bridge superstructure, and probably in other essential areas. -" The comm line crackled "- Otherwise, it's..."

"I've switched to sub-vocal mode," stated 3L. "Communications are now silent."

"... okay," concluded Kelev, casting a glance at the astromech. "What's DD told you?"

3L paused before answering. "Nothing specific, but I am concerned by his generalisations."

Kelev sighed, his eyes now resting on the headless Wookiee. "I haven't seen anything like this - on this kind of scale - since Ord Mantell or Zanbar... not even when we were salvaging on Jakku. And nothing this… Well, nothing like this."

"You might want to be a tad less... vague," replied 3L.

"No. Really. I don't."

3L waited a beat or two, as if to allow Kelev to expand on what he'd just said. When nothing more was forthcoming, it said "DD suggested what he'd witnessed was akin to the droid pits."

Kelev raised an eyebrow. "Now who's being vague?"

"Quite," replied 3L, and Kelev imagined the droid smirking. "After the Clone Wars, you remember that battle droids were outlawed - but there were still tens if not hundreds of thousands of Separatist Class Four droids that couldn't be... 'legitimately repurposed'."

"I remember," stated Kelev dryly. "No droid control ships needed. Semi-autonomous and sentient Class Fours. And let me guess: they were rounded up and made to fight in these droid pits?"

"Indeed." There might have been a hint of disgust in 3L's voice, if that were possible. "It seemed to greatly entertain... some."

There had been a droid Kelev had once tracked down which had chosen to fight in gladiatorial arenas, but that had been the droid's choice. "Not a particularly pleasant image for you to picture I imagine."

Time passed, and then 3L spoke. "You would be correct."

Kelev found himself nodding, another layer of empathy and understanding forming. "Yeah... well... it's like that... but in a decommissioned droid foundry. And it's meat instead of metal; blood and organs instead of circuits and servos."

"How…" 3L paused, apparently struggling for the right words to say. "… unpleasant. I'm sorry you're having to witness it."

As 3L spoke so Kelev realised that DD was looking directly at him, and he wondered if 3L was seeing what the little astromech was seeing, so he gave DD a small non-committal shrug. "Yeah... well... Do me a favour, 3L? Make sure Kiera stays on the Star. At heart she's still pretty innocent, and she doesn't need to see any of this."

"Gladly," responded 3L, the droid's voice seeming to lift ever so slightly. "I believe she is currently in her cabin resting, whilst possibly listening to what apparently passes as music to her generation."

The subject change - albeit indirectly - brought a faint and legitimate smile to Kelev's face.

"3L... you sound almost as old as I feel some days."

---

-32-

The ray shield spluttered, stuttered, and finally failed.

She was still none the wiser as to how it was that she had come to be in the room, but the situation with the Star Destroyer was crystal clear. As the ray shield failed Kiera experienced total recall, 3L and Kelev having quite clearly stated that the ship was functioning on emergency reserves only, beginning to list under the the influence of Malachor's gravity, and it's position above the planet gradually degrading.

Given time, it would capsize and crash down to the planet below.

"Okay. So... I've no idea how I got here..."

She had no idea where "here" was, either.

It was barely perceptible to begin with, and Kiera put it down to her own gradually shifting stance, but the supposed holocron had begun to slowly move. Perhaps there had been a gust or a change in air pressure as somewhere in the corridor an air handling unit had kicked in or, more likely, shut down.

Degree by degree, it rotated...

Kiera blinked.

The holocron hovered on a corner, but it wasn't rotating on that corner. It wasn't rotating on any of its corners: it rotated as if it had been skewered through the centre of one face and its mirror image.

Intrigued, Kiera took a step closer, the holocron teasing her, tugging at her figuratively if not literally, almost begging for her to come closer still.

A step closer.

Somewhere deep within the belly of the Star Destroyer a groan sounded, ringing through the vessel's frame, causing the superstructure to shudder.

Malachor's gravity was beginning to take its toll.

---

-33-

Kelev's comm beeped quietly. He thumbed the toggle, and simply stated his name.

"Kelev."

"Kiera appears to no longer be on The Mourning Star," 3L stated flatly.

It might have taken a fraction of a moment for Kelev to process what had been said, but even DD reacted.

"What do you mean she's not on the Star anymore, 3L?"

Any other model of droid might stammer and become flustered by such a direct question, but 3L took the shot squarely on the chin.

"After you advised that you had accessed the main bridge and that DD had begun interrogating the main computer I checked in on our passenger... I checked all of the crew quarters and was unable to locate her. We carried out a thorough search and she is not aboard the Star. Additionally, she appears to have availed herself of your other set of armour." 3L paused, as if confirming something. "I believe she may have your gift with her also."

That was, presumably, 3L's way of saying the electrostaff wasn't aboard the Star either.

"Well, at least she's prepared," he sighed. "Can you get a fix on her position?"

"At the present moment, no, we are unable to," stated 3L. "And that has caused a degree of concern, so to speak, in Q-P1D, indicating that there appears to be some form of interference which might equate to a malfunctioning cloaking device or deliberate sensor jamming."

Kelev's frown might have been audible. "That suit doesn't have a cloak."

"I know," 3L said, "hence our concern. Either our passenger is not what she appears, or that Star Destroyer is not as empty as we believe it to be."

DD whistled softly, exchanging a brief glance with Kelev.

"What's the likelihood of one of the guys being able to get a fix from onboard?"

"Realistically? No better than at present."

Kelev sighed. "Okay. Keep me posted if anything changes. In the meantime I'll make sure DD is secured and then, if he's happy enough, maybe I'll start a sweep from the airlock, see if I can pick up any sense of where she might have gone."

"Understood."

---

-34-

In another place, at another time, she might have joked about the holocron having its own gravity. But here, now, all she could do was stare, mesmerised, as the holocron slowly rotated, drawing her in.

Without realising it she found herself almost close enough to the workstation to touch one of its edges.

The ray shield suddenly fired up one last time, stuttering and spitting directly in front of Kiera's face, and then just as suddenly failed in spectacular fashion. Each emitter burned out in a violent shower of sparks and flames, tripping every circuit in the room, plunging Kiera into darkness save for the dim lights of the corridor beyond and the deep red glow that she now knew was definitely at the heart of the holocron.

Momentarily panicked by the emitters' pyrotechnics, Kiera turned on the spot, taking an involuntary step backward as the room was plunged into relative darkness, bumping into the workstation. Already spooked, the impact jarred her and she whipped around once more, her instincts hardwired to fight or flight, her hands outstretched...

Her right hand brushed the holocron.

Instantly, the room was lit up by ragged lightning - blue and green and red - arcing between the holocron and her hand.

Despite being powerless, every light fitting in the room failed in a flurry of sparks whilst the intercoms began vomiting white noise.

Pinned to the spot, Kiera could do nothing but watch as lightning of various hues continuing to arc between her hand and the holocron.

She should be panicking.

She should be terrified.

Instead, she was experiencing a manic calm, aware of everything detail of what was taking place. The holocron, reacting to the lightning, was tumbling, rotating on multiple axes, its corners acting as conductors, throwing off random sparks and hints of filigree;

The multitude of small fires were growing in intensity, as if burning hot enough to split the carbon and the oxygen in the mist, feeding on the former whilst leaving the latter as soot stains on the walls and floors;

The intercoms, belching white noise, were conveying something else, something primal, feral, pitched both too low and too high for the human ear to hear, but unsettling and disturbing nonetheless;

The burning red glow at the heat of the holocron grew more intense, bathing the room in bloody shadows.

In the bowels of the Star Destroyer something apparently succumbed to the stresses caused by Malachor's gravity, sundering with a sound akin to a huge bell being rung. Immediately, the room groaned, its surfaces beginning to warp ever so slightly out of true.

The holocron began to slow, the lightning arcs losing intensity, and the slightest hint of a nerve-jangling melody hung in the air. As it settled so its faces began to rearrange themselves, elements of the intricate patterns sliding over or under one another; the corners, seemingly charged by the now waning lightning, twisted out of true, turning on some internal axis and further complicating the transition of the golden filigree.

The sound the corners made as they detached was silent yet deafening, an explosion of screaming melodic dissonance, and the heart of the holocron expanded to encompass the whole before imploding in on itself.

Stressed beyond the limits of the materials they were made of, all four corners of the room shifted too far and the walls splintered and tore apart.

Kiera drew a sharp breath, a pained gasp as she felt the freezing air burn her throat.

"What the pfassk..."

Her helmet - Kelev's helmet - had been all but forgotten, but the suddenly plummeting temperature caused Kiera to focus on locating it as quickly as possible: she might be naive in any number of ways but she was smart enough to know that Kelev's armour might be the only thing to keep her alive - however briefly - in the event of a hull breach, and...

The fires continued to burn.

The failed electrics continued to spark.

But the intercom...

There was whispering;

There was chittering;

There were anguished cries;

There were ecstatic moans;

There were...

A pale, sickly, wan light spilled into the room from its torn corners.

... shadows cast from beyond the schism.

---

-35-

When a droid has no specific task it might appear non-functional or it might busy itself with less than important tasks, depending on the model and its programming.

Given its unique nature, 3L managed to do both.

Even in apparent shutdown the droid was monitoring a variety of systems and sensors aboard the Star, as well as chatter between the astromechs in the Farm and any comms from the dead hulk Kelev and DD - and presumably Kiera - were on.

DD had already painted a graphic enough picture of the Star Destroyer's innards, whilst Kelev's own comments had, strangely, solidified those images for 3L. Having also realised Kiera was absent from the Star 3L had requested the astromechs concentrate their efforts on scanning the vessel for any sign of her whilst 3L ensured that everything else remained nominal.

As such, 3L's current demeanour was less than indicative of the droid's status.

And then 3L twitched.

In an organic that might be symptomatic of a dream.

3L twitched again, and then shuddered violently.

A nightmare?

3L began to spasm, the droid's limbs flexing and twitching, with no sign that 3L itself was active or aware of what was happening to it.

Its torso, unaffected a moment before, suddenly contorted, the droid attempting to involuntarily fold itself in half, and then it flexed in the opposite direction, causing the droid to fall from its seat to the floor.

Still showing no signs of awareness, 3L continued to flex, contort, and spasm on the cockpit floor.

Drawn by the sounds emanating from the cockpit, Q-P1D detached itself from the Farm to investigate.

Knowing that there were currently no organics aboard - its sensors clearly indicated that - the astromech was uncertain what to expect, but finding 3L twitching and steaming on the cockpit floor was the least probable of the scenarios Q-P1D had hypothesised. Faced with such a situation, the astromech's responses were limited by its size and original design constraints, but the basic principle was the same for organics and droids alike: Q-P1D tried talking to 3L.

3L? Can you hear me, 3L? If you can hear me 3L, I need you to let me know somehow.

However silly Q-P1D might have 'felt' there was no denying the sense of urgency in the droid's voice.

3L? Please respond.

Q-P1D was becoming more and more concerned. It had never seen 3L twitch or steam before - or any droid, for that matter - and doubted it was a good sign.

"Cupid?"

3L's voice was distant.

3L? You can hear me?

3L didn't move, nor did it respond further. Instead, something else happened: 3L began to light up. From beneath each piece of body plating black light began to spill forth.

"I..."

There had been a subtle shift in 3L's tone.

"I..."

Pushing itself up from the floor, 3L tilted its head almost experimentally.

"I'm fine, Cupid, just..."

"I'm"?

3L looked at Q-P1D and for a fleeting moment the black light solidified into the image of a woman - pale of skin, dark of hair - who sat in place of 3L.

The woman frowned, and then smiled.

And then she was gone, and 3L was back.

"I... felt a... a great disturbance... as if..."

You must have hit your head very hard, opined Q-P1D, because even I think you just became an organic.

---

-36-

The first of their number was corpulent to the point of Huttish proportions, the grandeur of its flowing velvet robes almost rendered moot by its shambling, incontinent shuffle and the stench that each faltering step unleashed.

Its hands, the only feature exposed, were three-fingered, each finger and thumb thick and leathery, their flesh pale. The hue of its skin was near impossible to determine in the flickering darkness and shrouded flames, but each digit ended in long thickened and cracked nails.

When finally it cast back its velvet cowl the face beneath might once have elicited laughter in another place, at another time. At first glance it was the face of a comically overweight, lop-eared ash-rabbit, long and droopy of ear and thick of jowl; greater consideration proved this a lie.

Fat and stunted, barely reaching its chest, each lekku had been deeply lacerated, time and time again, scars like trenches criss-crossing them. Moreover, these were lekku unlike any Kiera had seen before; most grew back from behind the forehead, but these grew outward from above the brow. As it turned its head to survey the room it now stood in - unblinking beady black eyes, sunken deep in doughy features, glinting like polished jewels in the flickering darkness, silently expressing both a savage intelligence and a rapacious hunger - Kiera realised it had another two lekku, equally fat and stunted, hanging from the rear of its head.

If this were a Twi'lek, it was unique in her experience.

The second of their number strode with a regal grace the might-be-Twi'lek lacked.

At a glance she was a Togruta, and like her companion she was grandly attired in a variety of leathers, laces, and silks, overlaid with a cloak that looked all too familiar to Kiera.

And like her companion, the Togruta had been similarly mutilated.

All three of her lekku had been severed at the scalp, and the wounds bound in something scaled, black, and shiny that wrapped around and between her montals; montals which had been just as viciously dealt with, teased and tortured with wires and wraps to mimic the horns of a Devaronian, but exaggerated, enlarged, as high again as her head and neck; and her face had been carefully flayed around the edges of each of the pale markings - tattoos? - that were usually a delight to behold on any Togruta.

Where the cloak lay open the Togruta's attire beneath was exposed and with it the extent of her mutilation was further hinted at.

From her boot tops to her throat, her clothes and her flesh appeared to be an interwoven lattice, one overlaying the other to a design lost on Kiera. That the clothing was not in tatters suggested the butchery was recent, whilst the lack of anything but vestigial gore suggested old wounds...

Kiera found herself caught in the Togruta's maleficent gaze, pierced to the very core, and the Togruta sneered then casually licked what remained of her lips.

The next of their number Kiera truthfully couldn't identify, but to her eyes its snout bore the hallmarks of Saurin or Snivvian heritage, except...

No, this beast was something far less amiable.

Tall and gaunt, its scaled skin glistened in the wan light of the schisms and the flickering shadows of the room. It hissed and clicked and rattled, a whole range of guttural sub-vocalisations, as its tongue ran across its rows of pointed teeth, lips permanently pulled back in a rictus, leaving its maw a hideous wet red wound. Between that salivating gash and the frilled, horny crests atop its pointy skull were empty sockets, its eyes gone and the holes scooped clean and glistening.

It too wore clothing, but far less of it than the might-be-Twi'lek or the butchered Togruta, and definitely of a far less noble or grand lineage then either. Long arms, bare but for the slightest of adornments, ended in three heavy clawed digits - two fingers and a thumb - and its bare feet ended in three equally heavily clawed toes. Its torso and thighs were, at best, modestly covered, but it was that covering which was most disturbing: fur and flesh, in scraps and patches, stitched together with no thought for anything but the most basic of necessity; the adornments it wore teeth, or fingers, or claws, strung together loosely or tightly and worn about its neck, its wrists, and its ankles, their paleness highlighted by the mottling of the dark scales beneath.

Thick and heavy scars adorned each limb, and further trinkets - hunting trophies? - threaded each scar, a pattern discernible in their arrangement if one were to study them long and closely enough, something Kiera was subconsciously aware of.

The last of their number tested Kiera's rational mind.

As it came from its schism slowly, pained but defiant, it was almost impossible to comprehend at first: a Hutt, but one unlike any other living or dead.

It was a Hutt that walked.

By some insane contrivance a prosthetic limb had been attached to one side of its girth, at what might be properly termed its waist. An archaic design, it nonetheless half supported the Hutt's weight, its tail sharing the load.

As the tail pushed down - coiled; extended; recoiled - durasteel held the Hutt aloft until the moment came for it, too, to ascend, and then the Hutt would brace its tail and throw forward its 'hip'.

Balancing the droid leg - figuratively? literally? - was a droid arm on the opposite of the Hutt's torso, at least the double in length of its natural arm, equally archaic in design, a natural match for the leg.

The Hutt itself, robotics notwithstanding, was unique.

Most of its species were bulky beings, and this one was no exception, but it was a lean, muscular bulk, its fat burned away by the constant effort of resting, let alone moving. It had, however, once been as corpulent as its kin; folds of flesh that might otherwise have hung from its bulk were, instead, teased out and pinned back, formed into intricate braids and plaits, or pulled taut to form canvases for others to illustrate.

Not that it required illustrations. Whilst many of its species were pale creatures with brittle skin, this one was of a darker hue - impossible to tell in the flickering darkness - with almost luminescent markings, and its skin appeared supple and moist.

Like its body its face, too, had been reworked.

Eyes that were once the size of a man's head were no more, replaced by - presumably - the eyes of whatever droid had donated its leg and arm to the behemoth. Less than half the size of the sockets they were meant to fill, they illuminated the void around them, unhindered by eyelids that had been stapled open.

The gaping maw of the Hutt had been stitched and sutured, such that it now had three mouths instead of one, and behind each opening serrated teeth could be seen gnashing, whilst below, beneath what passed for its chin, a plasteel plate and grill nestled in its throat: a droid vocabulator.

They waited, the four, staring silently at Kiera as she took quick, short breaths.

At last the Hutt spoke, its words unintelligible to her, and each in turn took to one knee, pained though they might be in doing so.

She effectively glided into the room on a trail of her own gore, freshly flayed, the grace of her stride and the languor of her entry belying the horror of her visage. Those parts of her that required no skin were clearly intact given the swell and flow of her form, but a sense of modesty seemed to prevail given that she was clothed in...

It took a moment for Kiera to understand that the gore was not the woman's alone.

The furs she wore were not furs, plural; it was a single fur, flayed from the body of a single creature.

A Wookiee pelt.

Worn loose over her shoulders and cinched at her waist, its legs dragged on the floor between and behind hers whilst its arms hung down as a pair of shoulder cloaks to the sides and to the back. Its empty head she wore as a cowl over her own, shielding most of face from prying eyes.

Beneath the pelt, flimsy and fleeting, she wore what might have been her own skin as a mockery of decency, barely more than a slave girl's attire.

As she threw back the cowl the might-be-Twi'lek rose from kneeling - a slight gasp of pain passing his lips - before bringing forward a previously unseen container.

With the Wookiee-woman kneeling before him now and the container easily her equal, the might-be-Twi'lek opened it and removed something large but light. The eyeless lizard, suddenly and silently behind her, took the might-be-Twi'lek's freight and carefully crowned the Wookiee-woman with it.

Blackened and charred, skeletal hands rested upon her shoulders - hands connected to arms; arms connected to shoulders - supporting a charred and gore-encrusted rib cage which sat about her fleshless head.

Thus crowned, she stood and the would-be-Twi'lek reached forward with another adornment, the eyeless lizard taking hold and securing it behind the Wookiee-woman's neck: worn as an attachment to the choker about her neck the spine hung to below her waist.

As her attendants withdrew so the Wookiee-woman turned to face Kiera.

"A witch is in our midst, or so it appears."

The words came slowly, clearly and carefully enunciated as if spoken by a patronising native to a more learned visitor, and thereafter Kiera remembered nothing more.

---

-37-

Aboard The Mourning Star, 3L was recovering from its fit. Recovering? Reassessing.

There had been an awakening of sorts, but for 3L it was still far too soon to understand it.

A reawakening perhaps?

'3L' was an approximation, a droid-appropriate label close enough to a hitherto forgotten truth, a name that was tantalisingly close to revealing itself.

She-El?

Yes. She-El.

She-El Huyang.

Q-P1D hovered, figuratively, behind 3L - She-El? - as it - he? she? - ruminated on...

"Cupid?"

Yes?

"I don't think I'm a droid."

The astromech shifted position, angling for a better look at its counterpart.

Well, aside from the lights, you still look the same... well, except when...

The pale-skinned woman looked at Q-P1D and smiled sadly.

... well, when you do that.

"I think I was a person, once, and I think I was called She-El Huyang."

Q-P1D drew a little closer to 3L.

Near Human? Female? Pale skin and dark hair?

3L tilted its head.

"Erm..."

That's what... who... you keep turning into.

"Turning into?" the woman asked.

Gotcha!

The astromech moved back a little, and then turned its head away from 3L. Its holo-projector lit up, and an image of the woman appeared above the Star's main cockpit console.

The quality is much better when you do it, and in full colour. Practically lifelike.

The woman and 3L flickered between one another. "I... I..." she/it stammered.

Does this have anything to do with the massive mass shadow/Cronau radiation spike we detected on the Star Destroyer?

Distracted by the image before it, 3L almost didn't register Q-P1D's question, its head snapping to as it did.

"When? And where?"

The tone was decidedly human, and decidedly urgent.

A few moments before I became aware of your... predicament. On the Star Destroyer, two decks below the bridge...

The woman frowned.

... which, coincidentally, is where we believe Kelev Ra's passenger is located.

---

-38-

"Kelev Ra?"

"3L?" Kelev's helmet comm was awash with interference, but he could still make out 3L's voice. Except...

"Yes. No. It's... Just call me 3L until I can fully explain."

DD rotated its dome to face Kelev, bleeping its own confusion at the voice that wasn't quite 3L's.

"Explain what? 3L, what's..."

"Kelev Ra: I'll explain later, all things being well. Until then, I very much need for you to listen to me. Cupid's located Kiera Nys'a, two decks below the bridge. She's probably not alone. You and DD need to scuttle that Star Destroyer any way you can and get back aboard the Star as quickly as possible, with or without Kiera Nys'a."

DD shifted its attention from Kelev to the port it was accessing, and then back to Kelev.

Voice analysis confirms it is 3L... just, different somehow.

Kelev was already unslinging his bowcaster.

"And where exactly is Kiera?"

There was a pause, and then 3L spoke again.

"Cupid says she's in the same location as something which apparently caused a massive..."

... mass shadow/Cronau radiation spike? DD said, interrupting 3L.

"Yes."

A stream of untranslatable Binary filled the air before DD calmed down.

Care to place odds on more Wookiee-related adventures? the droid asked.

Kelev flipped the catch to release the bowcaster's arms.

"You point me in the right direct, DD, and I'll lead."

Are you... sure?

Kelev gave the slightest of nods.

"3L? Make sure the Star is ready to get to a safe distance."

"Care to define 'safe distance', Kelev Ra?"

"DD: shut down all of the associated fail-safes and overload the reactor."

Seriously?

"Give us enough time to get to Kiera, get to the Star, then double it."

"You want to overload a Star Destroyer's reactor?" 3L sounded incredulous, quite a feat for a droid in Kelev's estimation.

Beneath his helmet, Kelev's face was grim. "You wanted scuttled; I'm giving you scuttled. You haven't steered me wrong since you picked me up near Anoat almost fifty years ago..."

DD went totally still, totally silent. It knew they'd been nowhere near Anoat when they'd first found Kelev.

"It was out passed Teth, old man," 3L said. "Near enough to actually being in the Rinn system."

The Mandalorian relaxed a shade and gave another slight nod to DD, and the droid immediately began trashing what was left of the Star Destroyer's computer and all of the ship's fail-safes.

"3L: you keep an eye on the reactor outputs. You go when you have to, whether we're back or not. Understand?"

---

-39-

When your life is astrogation and repairs there is little time to showcase bravery.

DD was by no means a coward: simply put, the droid had never been programmed to go into situations that required a sense of bravery. But self preservation was a concept the astromech was all too familiar with, underpinning so many of its core duties, and DD took heart in this fact - after a fashion - and further rationalised its current action by determining that all it was doing was navigating for Kelev.

Truthfully, DD wanted for nothing in life, aside from the one thing few droids had - complete autonomy - and not even Kelev Ra could give them that fully outside of The Range on Concordia or aboard the Star. Such was the state of the galaxy: droids and clones still elicited such irrational fears in some sentients.

Kelev had said DD should point but he would lead: instead, DD insisted on sharing the risk.

The droid kept its own counsel as they exited the bridge, inwardly concerned for their safety whilst outwardly droid-like. Keyed in to Kelev's helmet comm system and its built-in translator, DD transmitted rather than spoke directions, running as silently as it could on unfamiliar surfaces.

If anyone were to see them they might find themselves bemused by the human's body language - hand signals, head movements, and obvious eye contact - which the droid appeared to mimic in its own way.

Out of necessity the bridge of any navy's capital ship isn't meant to be accessible to just anyone, so the route out was just as convoluted as the route in had been, especially as so few of the Star Destroyer's systems were operational. Whatever system existed for moving between floors had been disabled, if not by whatever cataclysm had rendered the Star Destroyer a dying hulk then by DD's own intervention, leaving man and droid alike only two options: either find a gaping hole in the deck, or find some stairs.

Contrary to popular belief, stairs are not an astromech's enemy - not that they're on particularly friendly terms, either. With careful positioning an astromech can negotiate most steps or stairs, one way or another. Whilst the First Order may not have had droids in mind when fitting out their vessels their stairs certainly weren't the least droid-friendly DD had ever encountered; still, the droid fretted over scorching Kelev's armour with its jets as it descended the first set.

Having checked the corridor to ensure they were alone, Kelev signalled DD to hold.

"Kiera?"

No matter how quiet Kelev wanted to be he still had to be loud enough for the comm to pick up, hoping that Kiera was actually wearing his other armour.

"Kiera? If you can hear me, you need to let me know now, because this ship isn't going to be here much longer."

3L had been specific about Kelev's old Death Watch armour being missing from the Star, so it only stood to reason that Kiera was actually wearing it. That being as it may, the fact that she wasn't replying to any comm's from Kelev suggested that she either wasn't able to or simply didn't want to. Realistically, either was just as likely - he had, after all, clearly told her not to leave The Mourning Star without his say so, no matter how nicely he'd said it; added to that, she had purloined something she knew was extremely significant to him - but his gut feeling was that it was a case of the former rather than the latter.

Whatever DD had done before they left the bridge was presumably affecting what remained of the Star Destroyer's operational systems, causing lights to flicker and splutter throughout their route. As such, DD continued to signal the direction they needed to head in, but the pair subtly jockeyed for position - playful but serious - as they made their way along first one corridor and then another in search of the next opening to the deck below.

It turned out to be an actual opening, clearly marked along its edges and presumably served by a lifting platform or some form of repulsor system, and both man and droid approached the opening cautiously; the Star Destroyer had already noticeably shifted more than once during their brief stay and a fall from even a modest height might ruin Kelev's day, if not DD's.

Crouching down to get a better line of sight and then slowly circling the opening, Kelev assessed the drop itself and what lay beyond it.

"Looks clear," he said quietly. "Want me to give you a push?"

DD swivelled its dome and 'stared' pointedly at Kelev.

"I'll take that as a no," he said with a slight chuckle, and took up position on the lip of the opening.

And you?

"I'll pass, thanks, DD."

As the astromech trundled forward and launched itself upward and outward, Kelev pushed off, landing lightly in a crouch.

He took a moment, and then made to stand just as the lighting failed.

That was when he saw him.

Maul.

Except...

The lighting spluttered into life again, and he was gone.

A moment later, the lights went again...

This was Maul as Kelev had never seen him before.

Spacers once talked of angels inhabiting the moons of Iego. This, however, was everything an angel was not: the lights spluttered on and he vanished, but the image was burned into Kelev's mind's eye.

Modesty was no concern for the Dathomirian Zabrak: from waist to toe he was machine, and every surface of that machine had been intricately etched; from waist to horn he was naked muscle and sinew, with the black of his body likewise intricately etched whilst the red remained pristine.

But his horns...

Many of the Mandalorians of the Shadow Collective had customised their armour - specifically their helmets - to mimic and honour Maul, Kelev among them, but in those days the Zabrak's horns had been only a knuckle or two in length. The crown of horns he wore now were more like those of his late brother, Savage Opress, each roughly a digit long.

The lights stuttered out once more, and Maul was back.

But now, however, he no longer wore just a crown of horns: now he also wore the horns of a Devaronian, sloping back and outward from his temples.

And his eyes still burned just as Kelev always remembered them.

In his hand, whining and keening, he held the Darksaber, drawn back and ready to strike.

Caught utterly off guard, Kelev almost fell backward as he tried to shoulder his bowcaster and draw a bead...

... and the lights came back on.

What's wrong? asked a perplexed DD.

Kelev blinked, his breathing suddenly ragged, but Maul was gone.

"I..." he stammered. "I just... I think I just saw a ghost."

DD looked down the passageway in the direction Kelev had been attempting to aim, and then back to the Mandalorian.

If it helps in any way, I can confidently state that we're alone. And I'm fairly confident we have been since... well, since our furry friend upstairs.

Kelev muttered to himself, a string of old Mandalorian profanities he'd probably learned at his father's knee, and took a moment or two to calm his breathing.

"DD, you can talk to me directly via my helmet comm, so... Can you transmit what you're seeing directly to my scope?"

The droid didn't answer immediately.

I believe so, yes, it said. But won't that be... disorienting for you?

Kelev shrugged. "Maybe a bit, but I think I'd rather know I'm seeing what's really there," he said, reaching up and pulling the helmet's scope into place ahead of his right eye.

He might be cocooned inside his helmet and armour, but he was honest enough to admit to himself that he felt very naked at the moment: naked, and on edge, a sensation undercut by a dash of animal fear.

A younger Kelev would have flatly denied it.

"Are you getting any other... strange readings, DD?"

Only in the general vicinity of our destination, and even then I'm not sure exactly what I'm reading.

Kelev took a deep breath, nodded, and placed a hand on the droid's domed head.

"You follow. No more heroics. I need a clear line of sight if you can give it to me, but otherwise you toe the line, got it?"

DD looked at him.

And?

"Something's not right here."

That statement may be redundant.

Kelev allowed himself a grim smile. "You know how long we've got. We find Kiera, we go home. If something else happens, or we go off schedule... you get back to the Star, regardless. Understood?"

The droid shuffled from side to side.

If something else happens?

Kelev said nothing.

I don't think I'm ready to say goodbye to you today, Kelev.

"Good," said Kelev as he began walking. "Because I don't feel like saying goodbye to anyone today either."

---

-40-

Every few steps thereafter the lighting would stutter, and every time it did Kelev focussed on what his right eye was seeing - the one being fed images by DD - rather than his left eye, because what that eye was showing him was unsettling at best. Whatever horrors had occurred in the corridors leading to the bridge had left their mark here too, but whilst DD's vision showed only the visceral reality of the apparent torture and dismemberment it was Kelev's left eye that was gifted with a vision of something altogether more disturbing.

The dead were no more at rest than they had been among the living. They twitched where they lay, not by choice or design, and it took a concerted effort on Kelev's part not to look too closely. From the corner of one eye, however, in the flickering darkness, he nonetheless saw why.

Their attire reminded him of Clone Wars-era Umbaran soldiers, but the features behind their face plates were closer to those of Givins.

Except...

These were battlefield ghouls or hungry ghosts, their faces melted and warped, twisted out of true by something beyond Kelev's comprehension. Once seen they couldn't be unseen, save for the briefest of respites when the lighting reignited and they vanished. But each time the lights died once more Kelev found himself wishing his instincts weren't those of a veteran bounty hunter: every shadow flickered with flashes of ultraviolet light, the skull-faced soldiers hovering over the deceased First Order stormtroopers, their remains twitching in the darkness.

"They're feeding..."

Pardon?

In the darkness, and beneath the glow of their illuminated faceplates, the figures crouching by the disfigured dead appeared to be wafting a sickly green mist toward their own faces, their hands working in intricate patterns to collect it from the disparate parts laid out along the corridor's floor or hung from its walls.

Had this been going on all along, wondered Kelev, and he just hadn't been able to see it before? And if so, why could he see it now?

DD remained quiet, apparently aware of the gravity of the situation even if the droid didn't understand why it should be so. Simple instructions - directions; distances - were relayed to Kelev's helmet silently, displayed in Mando'a rather than Aurebesh, along with a constant feed of what the astromech was seeing.

Wherever possible Kelev gave the bodies on the floor a wide berth, carefully skirting them and their attendant ghouls and, for the most part, DD followed his lead. All the while Kelev's mind played over what he was seeing and what he had already seen, trying to make sense of the situation.

At heart he was a simple man, just trying to make his way through the galaxy. Yes, he had seen his share of things a rational mind might never fully explain, but he had also lived through the end days of the Jedi and seen firsthand what some of their number - and those who were not - were capable of. This, however, was utterly beyond his experience. That the ghouls were apparently ignoring his passage - and that of DD - was of cold comfort given the distinct unease Kelev felt in their presence.

He kept his bowcaster loosely shouldered but unaimed, trying to remain relaxed whilst all too aware of his surroundings, and he kept his breathing even and regular, ignoring the charnel house stench of spoiled meat...

That gave him pause for thought.

The stench appeared to be growing stronger the closer they drew to their apparent destination. The air aboard the Star Destroyer had been far from sweet-smelling from the outset - at best it had been stale - but now it was becoming noticeably more corrupted, the smell being of meat gone to bloat and rot.

DD's directions led them further down the corridor, taking them through a doorway on their left, and then turning right.

The answer to Kelev's earlier question appeared to be here.

The Star Destroyer's crew and the troops stationed aboard - their bodies and body parts bunched up against the walls of the corridor, knee deep in places, thigh high in others - had literally torn one another apart in some orgiastic frenzy.

The stench here was now bordering on unbearable.

And then the bodies stopped, and the walls and corridor were pristine once more, bathed in a sickly and wan light emanating from a room ahead, but what surprised man and droid alike was the sudden chill, so cold that Kelev even felt it through the bodyglove he wore beneath his armour's base layer - something which, from previous experience, he might not even notice during a brief exposure to the vacuum of space.

It couldn't have been more obvious where their destination was.

---

-41-

It was untouched by the visceral horrors that had been visited upon the rest of the Star Destroyer but, from Kelev's standpoint, it had been visibly twisted out of true by something else.

Smoke or steam hugged the floor - leaking coolant of some kind Kelev surmised, coming from a plinth near the centre of the room; cold, but nothing more - and a pale light seemed to spill into the room from its shattered corners, barely reaching its occupants. However, and much like the room they stood in, they're tortured nature was fully laid bare instead by the crimson hue emanating from above the plinth.

Rotating slowly on a constantly evolving axis it was a puzzle unravelled, a dark but glistening cube that had been dissected and its corners extruded, a webwork of golden fibres teased and stressed to run through and encompass the whole, whilst something darkly crimson flickered and belched at its heart and cast its own shadows.

Moment to moment the room appeared illuminated by frozen rhydonium explosions.

To one side of the plinth stood a motionless Kiera, replete in Kelev's purloined armour sans helmet, apparently transfixed but otherwise unharmed.

She's alive, but... asleep, offered DD discretely.

On the other side of the plinth stood...

It took a moment to fully process what he was seeing.

They circled her slowly, deliberately, silent in themselves but for a grunt of exertion or pain, and they watched her, the flayed woman reworked and attired in a Wookiee's pelt: the empty sockets of the Trandoshan; the droid eyes of the cyborg Hutt; the unflinching magenta gaze of the mutilated Togruta; the burning black pin-pricks of the Twi'lek.

She, however, stood sentinel opposite Kiera, her posture unchanged, the gore from the Wookiee pelt she wore slowly congealing on the floor at her feet. Unable to blink - her eyes were as lidless as her mouth was lipless - she continued to scrutinise Kiera.

"First we have a mist witch, opening the way, and now we have a Mandalorian, bearing arms." Slowly, she turned her head to face Kelev. "Tell me, soldier: are there Jedi and Sith waiting in the shadows as of old? Do they bear the black blade, and hopes of banishment for we weary travellers once more?"

Kelev refused to allow his eyes to lock with hers.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Was it possible for a lipless mouth to smile or lidless eyes to narrow?

"Ah, honesty at least."

DD seemed to have a handle on the moment. The droid casually surveyed the room and, as before, directed the feed to Kelev's helmet.

"And if we're being honest," added Kelev, "I have no idea who you are either."

Making a show of stowing his bowcaster, he held his hands aloft for all to see.

"I'm just here for... -" He nodded toward Kiera "- I'm just here for… my friend."

Flat and empty laughter filled the air.

"'Friend' he says," intoned the flayed woman. "Conflicted, I say. Paternal feelings, yet confused. You desire her?"

Kelev knew enough not to rise to the taunt. "You obviously didn't hear me," he said, subtly shifting his footing. "I said: I'm here for my friend."

"So certain he is, now," replied the flayed woman. "Or so he claims."

With the room's occupants orbiting both Kiera and the flayed woman Kelev could see no clear route in or out of the room, but he had a notion.

"Kiera," he said loudly, "put your helmet on. We're leaving, and we're on a schedule."

"We were all on a schedule once," said the Twi'lek.

"More haste..." said the Togruta.

"... less speed," hissed the Trandoshan.

"And darkness descended," intoned the Hutt.

"Darkness."

"Lightness."

"Greyness."

"Magick."

"The Living."

"The Cosmic."

"The Ashla."

Kelev didn't even bother following who was saying what. "There's not one of you making a lick of sense right now." Then, more quietly: "DD? Would you get Kiera..."

Get her how? asked DD not so silently, a note of incredulity apparent in its beeps.

"... improvise, and get her back to the Star."

Your new friends don't look friendly, opined the astromech, and Kelev found he couldn't disagree.

"You let me worry about them, DD."

Quiet laughter cut through the air.

"How quaint," said the flayed woman coldly, "the Mandalorian has brought a servant."

Kelev felt himself bristle ever so slightly.

"DD's no servant."

"Oh?" replied the flayed woman, her ruined features still managing to affect a look of surprise. "Another 'friend' then?"

Kelev gave a dry chuckle. "He might disagree."

"Enough," the flayed woman hissed. "Shili, hold the mist witch!"

DD fired a cable at the same moment as the lekkuless Togruta held out a hand, and the droid suddenly found itself attached to a hovering Kiera. Issuing a disgusted string of Binary that might otherwise have brought a smile to Kelev's face, DD set its treads firmly and the tug o' war began in earnest.

Kelev had seen this before: from Maul; from Dooku…

The time for words apparently over, black lightning exploded from the flayed woman's fingers, darkening the room with its passage and causing the workstation to Kelev's left to crackle and spark. Grateful for the near miss, old instincts kicked in once more - shield, cloak, jump - and Kelev instinctively quick drew his blasters, firing off a random volley just before he started the cycle, hoping to draw the opposition fire to somewhere he suddenly wasn't going to be.

Not one of his shots hit a living target. Several hit the room's walls as expected and intended, showering those beside them with sparks, but more than one had been on target to hit one of the monstrosities only to be stopped in its tracks, frozen in space.

Blaster bolts were energy, pure and simple...

Kelev repeated the process, firing deliberately wildly but jumping back toward his starting point, hoping to catch them off guard in doing so. Again, several shots simply exploded against the walls whilst another two were caught and frozen.

Mid-jump Kelev had holstered his blasters; on landing he drew his bowcaster.

Bowcasters were traditionally single shot weapons that required the natural strength of a Wookiee to re-cock between shots. Even then it was a slow process so some, like Kelev's, were rigged with an automatic re-cocking system.

Unlike a blaster the bowcaster was a projectile weapon, firing a quarrel sheathed in plasma. Essentially, it was a man-portable railgun. As such, and just like a slugthrower, it was effective against particular kinds of defensive shields. The room's occupants weren't shielded, however: Kelev had seen the Force being used enough in his younger days to understand why the blaster bolts were frozen - 'though he'd only ever seen blaster bolts being deflected - but he'd never seen a Force-user try either against a bowcaster before.

He drew a bead and fired at the four-lekkued Twi'lek.

Not waiting to see the result, he jumped back to his second position and then jumped again, putting himself within reach of Kiera's helmet.

Allowing himself a moment, he was grimly pleased to see he had at least winged the Twi'lek, relieving it of two lekku. He'd hoped for more but expected far less, and didn't dare to hope for a repeat of this limited success.

"Such an archaic weapon," the flayed woman stated scornfully, which only served to make Kelev more grimly determined.

"Not quite," he muttered to himself.

With Kiera still being held suspended in the air by what he presumed to be the Togruta using the Force, he needed something to provide DD with a suitable opening to secure her and make haste, since they couldn't have much longer until the reactor overloaded.

An archaic bowcaster would only fire one shot...

Even with an automatic re-cocking system, very few bowcasters were capable of rapid fire.

Selflessly earned - and built to very particular specifications - Kelev's was one of those rare few.

Calmly, a faint smile on his lips, Kelev fired a spread of quarrels, targeting the mutilated Togruta last. Only that one shot was true, and even then the bolt merely winged her.

But it was enough.

Caught out by the sudden explosion of pain - a better shot might have actually felled her - the Togruta's Force-hold on Kiera faded and DD responded exactly as Kelev had hoped: as Kiera fell from her grasp DD doubled down, not waiting for a second invitation, activating its leg rockets and setting them to the room, dragging Kiera's unconscious form behind it.

Hopefully the journey wouldn't be too bumpy for her.

As he stowed the bowcaster once more a lightning storm erupted immediately to Kelev's left.

"Pfassk!"

Now that he knew he had the undivided attention of the room's occupants he also knew he couldn't guarantee a hit on anything apparently flesh and blood. If he hoped to get out in one piece he needed something else that would provide a distraction.

What about...

He knew of holocrons but had never knowingly seen one, so he could only presume that what rotated at the heart of the room - blood-red light encased in obsidian darkness, highlighted by golden filigree - was the source of whatever was happening. And if it was, it was likely to be protected, but...

Instincts only ever carried a soldier so far: a sound strategy would carry them further.

Kelev's strategy coalesced in a heartbeat:

Cloak off;

Wait for a beat;

Cloak on;

And jump.

Kelev let loose a random salvo from both blasters and then he jumped again, holstering his blasters mid-jump and drawing the bowcaster once more.

He landed in a spot he'd not chosen before, crouching as he shouldered the bowcaster and drew a deep breath.

Exhaling calmly, he gently squeezed the trigger.

His aim had been true but, just as he'd expected, the flayed woman caught the bolt in mid-flight, somewhere nearer to her than to him.

What was unexpected, however, was what she did next: with the smallest of gestures she stripped away the plasma sheathing the quarrel…

… unintentionally causing the quarrel to shatter, spraying the room's monstrosities with shrapnel.

It was a boon Kelev would not waste.

His next shot - already planned, regardless of the first's outcome - was just as true, the bolt crashing into the holocron in a ragged and volcanic eruption of rainbow lightning and billowing green mist, a rhydonium explosion in negative.

That was when all Qasak broke loose.

As one the room's occupants bellowed or screamed, all save the flayed woman.

Then the razor wire came.

---

-42-

Exploding from the sundered corners of the room and the ruptured holocron alike, barbed hooks fit for catching or butchering sea creatures flew through the air trailing primitive razor wire in their wake. The hooks lodged in walls and workstations, floor and ceiling, with relative ease, turning the room into a brutal maze. More than once a flying hook or its trailing razor wire grazed Kelev as he sought to reach Kiera's helmet - Wha Chu would never forgive him for not at least trying to recover it - with his shield providing no protection. Scooping the helmet up with one hand, he fired off one last salvo from the bowcaster before triggering one more jump.

Black lightning and razor wire congregated on the spot he had just vacated.

Girders began to punch through the room's bulkheads as Kelev cleared the threshold, and he suddenly realised that his strategy had one potentially fatal flaw: only DD actually knew the route out of the dying hulk.

His cloak and shield still in place, his feet pounded the corridor floor as he tried to remember his way back to the bridge deck, ignoring the I-beams that exploded out of the walls and floor - uprooting the body parts that had lined the corridor walls and throwing them into his path - and the hooks and chains flying passed him. Even as he ran and dodged and zigged and zagged he found himself noticing the absence of the hungry ghosts in the shadows, something which might otherwise have filled him with a sense of foreboding.

He almost missed the opening in the left wall, his feet sliding in gore he didn't remember being present before, instinctively ducking and triggering his jump pack to navigate the flesh-confetti-and-razor-wire storm erupting around him. Hitting the far wall hard he collapsed to the floor, his bearings momentarily lost and his body suddenly in revolt. Sucking down air, he refused to accept what his body was telling him - you're too old for this – and he dug in and kicked off. Up ahead would be a hole in the ceiling - one more jump, providing he hadn't exhausted the jump pack's charge already - and then he had to find the stairwell.

The silence was deafening.

At another time and in another place he might have welcomed a claxon sounding, an alarm blaring, or emergency lighting flashing, but the cold hard reality of the silent hulk was more than enough to spur him on even as his body continued to protest at the sudden exertion.

The sign caught his eye at almost the same moment as he saw the opening in the ceiling:

Life Pods.

It took a moment to make the decision.

He had no idea how long he had left, but if he was near the Star Destroyer's life pods then he was near the hull. It would be quicker to use a pod than to go up a deck and double back in search of the stairs. Yes, it was a calculated risk: a pod might not fire - the ship was on less than emergency power - or it might even be damaged and be unable to launch, but...

He was gulping down air and limping, carried by adrenaline and an old soldier's desire not to languish on a foreign battlefield. He was also vaguely aware of the pain beginning to blossom in his left leg and right arm: what he'd thought of as being grazes were apparently something a little more troubling, and he was growing more certain with each passing moment that the warmth he was feeling was his own blood.

His only concern, however, was reaching the life pods.

Despite their elitism, and despite their speciesist nature, the First Order still used Aurebesh. That meant that anyone with even only a working knowledge of Basic could follow corridor signs or floor plans, with the former even going so far as to state distances where the life pods were concerned. It might even be considered grimly humorous.

Beneath his helmet Kelev knew he was grinning at the signage.

Wherever you are, Kelev, we have to leave now!

The life pods were directly ahead, but Kelev's vision was beginning to darken.

How long would a life pod take to cycle once activated he wondered as his hand struck the button to open the nearest pod.

Kelev practically collapsed into the life pod, but he managed to stay upright long enough to slap at the button to start the evacuation cycle.

"Life pod..." he said aloud, and then passed out.

---

-43-

He woke up slowly, his eyes refusing to open fully for what felt like a lifetime. Some part of him was happy at this, given that he happened to feel like he'd been beaten half to death by a gundark.

"You're awake then?"

The voice, familiar yet not, came from his right and he tried to turn his head in that direction. The sudden pain told him that was an idea best saved for another time.

"For future reference, a dedicated medical droid might be an idea. How we've managed for the last fifty years without one is... interesting."

Kelev nodded - mentally if not physically.

"Not in your newly discovered skill set then?" he asked with a smile.

There might have been a slight laugh in response - or it could have been a sigh.

"I might have to get back to you on that one."

Kelev managed a slight nod - physical this time. "How are we doing? How's Kiera?"

There was no immediate answer.

"Kiera Nys'a is unconscious, but otherwise appears to be in good health as best as we can surmise. She may have a few bruises, courtesy of DD, but... I thought it best to administer a sedative until... We fired an ion pulse at your life pod - to disable it for capture, which might account for some of the discomfort you're feeling -" Kelev grunted an acknowledgment "- aside from the deep lacerations you presumably sustained prior to, which have been temporarily patched up and shouldn't be stressed - and then we locked on to you and brought you in. After that... well... The shockwave from the explosion caused the primary hyperdrive actuator to rupture, amongst other things."

Kelev sighed. "Could've been worse. You should have jumped sooner, with or without me..."

"DD built in a reasonable degree of flexibility on that issue. The warning he gave you was more of a hurry up than... as it stands, we were in hyperspace when the shockwave hit us."

In spite of the pain, Kelev actually turned his head to face the source of the voice.

Her face alone was enough to give him pause - not to mention a stab of fear - but her apparent nakedness was a close second, and both minor shocks served to lessen the impact of what she'd just said somewhat.

"... A hyperspace shockwave? That's... that's... different."

The woman gave a non-committal shrug.

"We could have been on the other side of Malachor and I doubt it would have made any difference. But, the secondary hyperdrive is fully functional and the Dummies are working on any immediately repairable secondary and tertiary systems. We're on our way to The Range on Concordia, and I've already called ahead and there should be a nice tank of bacta waiting for you to slip into once we're berthed."

"And a full dip 'n' buff for DD, too," Kelev added, and the woman nodded, even if she didn't quite understand the inference.

Now that he was looking at her he couldn't rightly look away - the immediate pain being a sizeable part of why - and his initial shock at her appearance had begun to fade. "And... just who... what... exactly are you?"

She appeared to ponder the question.

"Honestly? I really don't have an answer for that, but I'm fairly certain you'll be one of the first to know when I do."

A blink would have to suffice in place of a nod. "So... What do I call you in the meantime?"

The woman sat a little more upright and smiled.

"I think my name is She-El Huyang."

"3L; She-El. That kind of makes sense. But..."

She-El frowned, which Kelev considered impressive.

"But?"

"You... Looking like that..." stammered Kelev, "you kinda remind me of Aurra Sing. And that's not the best of memories for... Well, she had a reputation."

The woman looked contemplative, and then nodded.

"For what it's worth, Kelev Ra, I'm not consciously aware of my appearance. I'm not even consciously aware of projecting an appearance. If not for Cupid..."

"Cupid?" Kelev might have smiled at hearing that.

"... if not for Cupid, I wouldn't even be aware that I actually project an appearance."

"I can... I think I can understand that," conceded Kelev, realising that he genuinely could. "But..."

"But?"

"... until you get a handle on it, you might want to consider clothes."

She-El looked momentarily confused, and even in his current state Kelev couldn't help but continue to be impressed by her visual emotiveness.

"I've seen a lot of holo-projections, but none of them as... real as you. And since you're not aware you're projecting..."

"Oh," said She-El quietly, as realisation dawned. "Cupid didn't mention that."

Kelev managed a pained laugh.

"You may not have noticed this before now, but Cupid can be a real moof-milker sometimes."

She-El gave a little exclamation of her own - not quite an actual laugh - and began to grin.

"This may be something of a steep learning curve for me then."

Kelev blinked a nod. "So... You promoting yourself?" he asked good-naturedly, which prompted genuine laughter from She-El.

"That would be... presumptuous on my part, no?"

"You could..." His next words were going to be 'pass for human' but he stopped himself. "I don't think anyone would question it."

Perhaps She-El was simply experimenting with the sound of it, but Kelev's comment elicited more laughter. "Tactful and polite as always, Kelev Ra."

From where he lay, Kelev managed a slight shrug.

"No, I think... I think First Mate better suits my... current condition," continued She-El, before adding a moment later, "providing you're still comfortable with that?"

Steeling himself for the sensory overload to come, Kelev slowly began to sit up.

"It's still your ship," he said as cold and solid metallic hands gently helped him, and he then let She-El guide him to the lounge.

"Our ship, Kelev Ra," she said. "That includes you."

"That being as it may, I've always thought of it as your ship - that's you and Cupid, and... Let's be honest, I don't think I could name every one of the astromechs or DUM's on a good day, let alone right now - and that still stands regardless of who you, specifically, are relative to yesterday, a year ago, or the day you found me... 'though Cupid might take issue with that if we're talking actual rank."

The holo-projection of a naked woman acting as his crutch smiled.

"Thank you, Kelev Ra."

---

-44-

With She-El back in the Star's cockpit keeping an eye on the ship's progress - and Kelev found it remarkably easy to make the transition to thinking of 3L as both her as She-El - Kelev remained in the lounge and watched as DD holo-projected what they'd witnessed aboard the Star Destroyer.

From start to finish he watched the footage twice, but the second time he had DD stop the playback and rewind it as and when, making notes on a spare datapad each time.

His notes were no more than key words, based on what had transpired aboard the Star Destroyer and what had brought them there in the first place, and those he whittled down still further as he sought to understand what he'd witnessed and been a part of.

To that end he needed to have something specific he could look for and, ultimately, it came down to four key words, two of which had been uttered by the flayed woman in the Wookiee pelt.

He gave DD a slight nod, and the droid lined itself up with him. When a particular light lit up on the droid's domed head, Kelev began.

"'Rin, we're heading to The Range. We're a bit beat up: the Star Destroyer was still there, in orbit, and all Qasak broke loose - literally, I'm thinking - so it might be an idea to give that system a wide berth for a while. Ship's gone, but... treat it like a nebula for a while. I know that doesn't make any sense, but there's a lot about what happened doesn't make any sense, which is why I need a search, deep as you can go. Key words are: Jedi; Sith; Dathomiri or Dathomirian; and Nightsister.

"Chances are it's a bust, but I need a hit on all four in the same context. Failing that... failing that, we'll talk and see what comes up."

At Kelev's slight nod DD stopped recording and trundled off to relay the message via the Star's communications array, leaving Kelev to try to relax as he waited.

The Mourning Star came out of hyperspace on the edge of the Mandalore system, with She-El switching the ship's IFF to the relevant setting a moment beforehand. The system's satellite safety net - a holdover from Republic and then Imperial occupation following the Siege of Mandalore, and directly attributable to Kelev's time in the Death Watch - immediately pinged the Star and the ship's computer began an intense dialogue with the Mandalorian Protectorate's central computer system.

Whilst that was going on, She-El laid in the Star's usual course for their home of the last twenty five or so years. Whilst she did so one of the cockpit holo-projections lit up, causing She-El to glance in its direction and then thumb the internal comm's.

"Kelev? If you're awake you have someone from Mon Cala on the line... unless anyone else is expecting a call?"

Kelev suppressed a laugh - it still hurt, and he suspected bruised or fractured ribs - and thumbed the nearest comm's panel.

"Dejarik table, if you don't mind."

It took a moment for the dejarik table's holo-projectors to reconfigure for something other than gaming, and when the image resolved it was of a Toydarian hovering adjacent to a console.

"Kelev Ra!" exclaimed H'Rin'ton in greeting. "'All Qasak broke loose' not an exaggeration I think. You look like poodoo!"

Kelev reigned himself in to shrugging with his eyebrows alone.

"I may be getting too old for this sort of thing but... well, I know for a fact I look better than the other guys."

"And find what you looking for on Malachor, no?"

Kelev shook his head. "Long story, short version: never made it to the surface."

"Ah!" responded the Toydarian. "A story for drink and meal perhaps?"

"Don't you still owe me dinner at your uncle's place on Nar Shaddaa?"

H'Rin'ton might have laughed or it might simply have been a slight choking noise.

"Anyway," continued Kelev, "I'm guessing you've got something for me."

"Indeed," replied H'Rin'ton, hovering over his console, apparently absorbing what it had to tell him before reciting it. "Hmmm... Partial journal entry... Transcript of memoirs of Senate Representative for... Naboo? Interesting dialect. Cult on Bardotta - demon worshippers... hmmm... resurgent, before end of Clone Wars. Dagoyan Masters were kidnapped - whatever 'Dagoyan Masters' are - and planet's queen, too. Sacrifices made... Something about Zardossa Stix... collection of Living Force... Dathomiri magick. A name too: Talzin."

Kelev frowned. "Why do I recognise that name..."

"Hmmm... Talzin... Dathomiri magick... Ah, yes: Mother Talzin, head of Dathomiri Nightsisters..."

"And mother of Maul," added Kelev, cutting off the Toydarian. "That's where I know the name from. Might have been... probably Ord Mantell."

The holographic H'Rin'ton gave Kelev a questioning look.

"And no, I don't know what any of it means. I've got a traumatised girl in one of the Star's med-stations; a droid that apparently isn't; and a head full of nightmares from that... Star Destroyer your 'friends' spotted on the edge of the Malachor system."

"Ah, yes," coughed H'Rin'ton dryly, discretely ignoring Kelev's rambling. "Malachor not alone in being visited. Friends tell me First Order were sighted in Moddell sector too."

Kelev paused for thought, joining the dots, and then grunted. "Endor."

"And reports they also visit Jakku before showing up in Tashtor sector… and destroying Maz Kanata's castle."

"Jakku I can understand if they'd already been to Endor," Kelev said. "They're both Imperial graveyards. But what the pfassk were the First Order doing on kriffing Takadona?"

H'Rin'ton shrugged.

"Resistance were there too. And then…" The Toydarian looked grave. "And then... Not good news, Ra. Hosnian system destroyed."

Kelev actually felt himself go limp.

Alderaanians had called the destruction of their homeworld The Disaster - too small an epithet for attempted genocide on the part of the Empire, albeit one of many - but he'd never expected anything similar to happen again in his lifetime.

"Took most of Republic fleet with it."

"Caraya's soul!"

Neither H'Rin'ton or Kelev had anything more to say or, if they did, the words with which to say it.

In the background something quietly pinged, catching the Toydarian's attention.

He frowned, and began muttering.

"What's up 'Rin?" Kelev asked when the muttering failed to come to a timely conclusion.

"Hmmm…" was H'Rin'ton's only reply, but he held up a hand to Kelev to stop any further queries whilst he finished examining whatever had him engrossed.

"Buried deep, fleeting. Sith; Jedi; Dathomiri; Nightsister. No information as such… nothing, but name."

News of the destruction of the Hosnian system and the Republic fleet made everything else seem insignificant at that moment but Kelev asked anyway. "Just a name?"

"Yes."

"And that name is?" He'd tracked bounties with little more than a name before now.

"Asajj Ventress."