A/N: So this is the third story in what's shaping up to be a series of Fanfics. I'd highly recommend reading the first and second fics first, as this one will contain spoilers for the previous ones. (Also, it will make more sense if you know the backstory :)

Disclaimer- I own nothing Star Wars. It all belongs to George Lucas, etc. All I own are the characters I've created and the plotline I've come up with :)

Ran Scorlo slammed his fist down on the table in front of him in frustration, ignoring the screech of protest the rickety metal gave.

Two days. Two days since he had watched his pilot and friend Kadira Sal be injured by a bomb placed on her own ship. He could still see in his mind's eye the way she had been tossed backward like a rag doll, her head slamming against the durasteel wall of her ship. He could still smell the acrid tang of explosives, and could still remember the feeling of Laniff Dreysel's armored body slamming Ran out of harm's way. Ran had risen to his feet in a daze only to find both Mandalorians pinned beneath debris.

"Get out of here, di'kut," Laniff had growled, struggling in vain against the objects pinning his red and gold armored form to the floor. "They find you and we're all dead."

And so Ran had been faced with a choice, a choice he had hoped he would never have to make. He could help those he had come to view as friends, or he could continue the mission he had dedicated his life to. Even then, he had known what his choice would be. Laniff had known too, fighting to get free in order to help Kadira who was unconscious, a deep gash in her forehead slowly seeping blood. The screeching of the ship's ramp had forced Ran's hand, making him choose before the Vanguard was boarded and the choice was made for him.
So he had chosen the mission, leaving Kadira and Laniff in the hands of the Empire as he made his way to the escape pods. And he hated himself for it every step of the way. More than once he almost turned back, almost chose to share the fate of his team. But Laniff's words stopped him, reminded him it wouldn't matter. The Empire wanted Ran Scorlo. Kadira Sal and Laniff Dreysel were simply a means to that end, and the moment Ran was caught they would be disposed of. And if Ran knew the Empire, their deaths would not be quick or painless.

"Kark it all," he growled, placing his head in his hands. It wasn't supposed to be this way. Kadira was never supposed to have become a target. She was supposed to have been the faceless Mandalorian, unknown by the Empire. But she had proven to be too good at her job. The Empire had latched onto her, placing a sizeable bounty on her head and leaving her unable to remove her helmet unless she was among friends for fear she would be recognized. Now she was not only a prisoner of the Empire, but they would think she knew where he was. And that was almost worse than a death sentence. Laniff was another matter entirely. He had signed on in order to help a friend, sticking with Kadira even when things had gotten dangerous—because that was who he was. He was Mandalorian, and Kadira was his vod, his family. Ran almost envied the relationship the two Mandos had, trusting one another without question, especially in the heat of battle. They bantered back and forth, trading insults and Mandalorian words that Ran was unable to translate. And yet when push came to shove they never doubted one another.

Ran sighed and pushed himself to his feet, leaning his weight on the rickety table in front of him as he lost himself in his thoughts. Things had all started to go wrong on the first real mission. It had only been Kadira and Ran then, Laniff had yet to join the team. They had gone to the icy planet of Belsavis in order to rescue a senator who had in fact turned out to be an Imperial spy. Ran had acted as an Advisor to Kadira until his base was attacked by a woman named Coorta Mashiri, leaving only himself and one other man alive. Coorta had become a thorn in their side ever since, following them on their last rescue that had led them to the jungle moon of Dxun. Coorta and Kadira had battled, leaving Kadira injured but with the knowledge that Coorta was a member of Death Watch, a radical splinter group and mortal enemy of the Mandalorians. And now Ran was left on his own, struggling to find a way to rescue Laniff and Kadira even though his mission demanded he leave them behind. He often reminded himself that loyalty was a weakness he couldn't afford, that Kadira and Laniff had known the risks when they signed onto this mission. And yet each time he thought of them as Imperial prisoners undergoing only Force knew what kind of interrogations he found his blood boiling in rage.

He couldn't abandon them to their fate. He wouldn't.

Kadira Sal obediently placed one foot in front of the other as her armored guard marched her down the hall at gunpoint. She could probably disarm him with no trouble. In fact, she was sure of it. The only problem came from the fact that the rest of the prison was crawling with guards. Even she didn't have the skills to take them all on at once, not without her armor and the many gadgets and tools it boasted.

As it was, she could still feel the throbbing in her side from the stun stick she had been jabbed with after her latest escape attempt. The rest of her bruised body seemed to back up the assumption that patience was going to be required in order to escape.

"Still feeling that stun baton?" her guard asked in the accented voice of a clone trooper. Kadira lifted one dark brow at him, earning a low chuckle. "I would have thought three escape attempts in two days would have taught you something," he commented, slowing slightly to match her tired pace.

"It taught me what doesn't work," Kadira responded in her rasping voice, earning another chuckle.

"You Mandos. Always so karking stubborn."

"Like you troopers are any better," Kadira responded. "Besides you were cloned from a Mando."

The trooper tilted his head in acknowledgement of the point. "But my vod were fellow clones, not Mandalorians."

Kadira stopped in her tracks and turned to face him, her eyes flashing in sudden anger. "You were trained by Mandalorians who gave up everything in order to make sure you didn't get your stupid selves killed. You speak the language, know the culture," her rasping voice was as loud as he had ever heard it, strained from the effort of lifting her voice above normal speaking level. As it was, Kadira didn't come anywhere near a shout, though he could tell she was trying as hard as she could. She pointed at the painted symbol on his helmet accusingly, the handcuffs on her wrists clinking with the force of the movement. "You even wear the Jaing eyes, a Mandalorian mark of honor. Get your head on straight, di'kut. You know Mandos have risked their lives smuggling your kind out of the Empire's reach, trying to find a way to reverse your insane aging rate. So don't pretend like you and your brothers are untouched by your Mando blood. You're not."

Kadira would have continued, but her attention shifted to another group of guards shuffling a blonde prisoner down the hall. Serious brown eyes met hers and Kadira froze. Laniff. He looked exhausted, the dark circles under his eyes looking like bruises against his pale skin. Still, he gave her a slight smile and a wink as he passed, somehow managing to brush his hand against hers. Kadira felt something solid drop into her palm and closed her fist around it, resisting the urge to see what it was.

She glanced up at the clone trooper beside her, noticing the way he watched her, almost as if he expected her to make a break for her friend. Kadira hunched her shoulders, her face losing all expression as she turned away from Laniff. The trooper sighed and stepped forward, taking her arm and guiding her down the hall to her cell.

Jett watched Kadira's face as he closed her inside her cell, wondering what was going through the Mandalorian's head. She seemed upset after seeing her friend, and yet she simply began to pace her cell calmly as she had been doing for the past few days. He recognized it as a manifestation of her military training, a demand that she keep herself in shape even though escape seemed incredibly unlikely. He knew he would be doing the exact same thing in her position. And yet, something about her had changed. Anyone else might overlook it, but Jett had been waiting for just such a change. She seemed more energetic, less hopeless and definitely more determined.

She glanced up at him suddenly, spreading her hands questioningly as she noticed the clone studying her. She lifted both brows sharply, demanding an explanation.

Jett merely smiled beneath his helmet, feeling certain something had changed. He turned away from the cell, headed towards the barracks he was stationed in. He had his own preparations to make.

A/N: Thoughts, anyone? Reviews would definitely make my day :)