A/N: Something that I forgot to mention in the last chapter is that the title of this story comes from the song Angel With A Shotgun by The Cab. Also, translations and their context will be at the bottom as usual.

Aftermath

Thunderclap
Returning to Wild Space
Twelve hours later

While Cormac watched the radar and Elara scanned for life signs, Yuun monitored all active frequencies. Jorgan had been broadcasting an encrypted Havoc Squad signal, a complex pattern of beeps, for the past three hours. One of the blokes rescued from Marr's ship estimated that nearly three hundred escape pods had launched as a result of Fynta's command to evacuate. Several had been shot down by enemy drones, but most made it to neighboring planets.

Balic needed to stretch his legs. He'd spent the entire trip in the kolto tank with the intention of being useful when Havoc reached its destination. His head still pounded to the beat of a Kashyyyk war drum, but after a few more dips, he'd be good as new. It killed Balic whenever he thought about the fact that if he'd been a man and done it sooner, he could have been there with the major. Maybe it wouldn't have made a difference, but at least she wouldn't be alone.

Though no longer subject to bouts of vertigo, Cormac's joints continued to ache in the aftermath of illness. He hobbled onto the bridge to check on Jorgan, and his heart broke a little more. The Cathar had been staring out the viewport since they arrived, scanning each body and every scrap of metal left from Darth Marr's ship. The captain had his datapad propped on one knee, bouncing so rapidly that Cormac wondered if he'd take off running if he stood up too fast. Balic couldn't imagine what Jorgan must be going through. He'd be a mess if Elara were missing.

Jorgan spared a glance over his shoulder, brow pulled into a permanent crease. "Nothing on the radar?" The Cathar's voice was deceptively calm, as if he'd shatter if even a hint of emotion slipped through.

Cormac shook his head. "Sorry, boss." Jorgan's mouth tightened into a straight line. "We'll find her," Balic promised with his most reassuring smile. "We're not giving up."

Jorgan took a deep breath and rose to his feet. He tapped the datapad against his palm a few times, still staring out the viewport. "I'm going to grab an hour of sleep," he announced finally, edging past Cormac towards the stairs.

"Sure thing. We'll come get you if anything turns up." Cormac doubted the captain would get any sleep; he just wanted to be alone. Balic listened for the door to shut and lock, then looked out at the darkness held back by a few layers of plexiglass. Cormac hated watching Jorgan collapse in on himself like this, knowing that he couldn't fix it. Fierfek, Fynta, he thought towards the unfeeling stars, you just had to be a hero.

Taris
Sinking City

Verin splashed through the shallow swamp, scanner in hand. He hated this planet. It stank, the rakghouls were still a pain in the ass, and the Cathar community had become more volatile than ever. Verin had been nearly overwhelmed by a group of hunters when he hesitated to take a shot at one of them. The male had looked like Aric, at first, and Verin's mind hadn't registered the wrongness of the Havoc soldier being here until the rest were on him. By then, all Verin had been able to do was make for the speeder and get the hell out. He doubted they would have believed him if he'd tried to explain that he had a Cathar brother anyway.

Verin risked burning the old device out by setting it so high, but he thought it worth the risk. Taris had just entered winter, which consisted of freezing rain, sometimes radioactive. The ice tinked against his armor, and the hunter muttered curses in every available language. Cinlat would have found the blasted part by now and moved on to the next bounty. Hunting alone was a lot harder that Verin had imagined, and he wished this newfound respect for his wife's skill had come before her death.

HK-51, the droid that Cinlat had pieced together with her own hands long before Verin came into her life, had burned out a servo and ruined his chassis. Since his late wife had found the original in the wreckage of the Endar Spire, Verin figured it was as good a place to start as any. If the irksome droid had belonged to anyone else, he would have left it at their place on Tatooine to rust in the sun. It wasn't just because Verin hadn't been able to bring himself to return to their summer home, but also because Cinlat loved the stupid piece of scrap.

Verin tripped over a hidden object in the shallow water and landed with a splash. It wouldn't have been so bad had he not removed his helmet for a drink of gal. Frigid water sloshed into his face and poured over the top of his chestplate, soaking the thermal suit beneath. He considered staying on his knees; the thought of getting up, moving on in a life without his wife, seemed like so much effort most days. Still, he'd managed this far, and Cinlat would surely spurn him in the Manda if he gave up.

Pushing to his feet, Verin kicked the thing that had upended him. The solid sound of beskar striking metal grabbed his attention, and the bounty hunter knelt to find a sheet of bent alloy that could pass for HK's new chassis.

Verin scooped the piece up and decided to call it a day. The brief elation he felt at finding something useful evaporated into thoughts of returning to an empty ship. With a sigh, he started back to the speeder, pausing in the process of climbing onto the seat when his HUD lit up. The icon indicated the shared channel between himself and Fynta's crew.

Given that this particular link lacked privacy, Verin could only assume that whoever had activated it was searching for him. He had ignored Fynta's last two attempts, mostly because he wasn't ready to face his aliit yet. He listened though, and Fynta knew it, so she'd ramble on with updates to let him know that everyone was still alive and in search of the emperor. Not that Verin cared, he'd gotten his revenge by killing Revan; the rest of the galaxy could handle the mad Sith.

Unlike the times before, only the sound of breathing followed the comm's activation. Verin remained silent, expecting his sister to start chattering at any moment. Maybe this time he'd respond, just to let her know that he hadn't offed himself. "Fynta do you read?" It was Aric's voice on the comm, not Fynta's. Verin's blood ran colder than the rain pelting him. The Cathar sounded hoarse, dejected even.

Verin listened carefully for a response. None came. "Fynta, I know you're out there. Respond." Jorgan growled, and the world tipped wildly around Verin, threatening to spill him from the speeder. Not again, not so soon. "If you can hear me, we are coming. We will find you."

Verin activated his mic. "Aric, what's going on?" As if he needed an explanation. Something had gone terribly wrong, and Jorgan was scared.

The long pause that followed said more than when the Cathar finally answered. "We were separated. We're searching the wreckage of the ship she was on." He paused. "There were escape pods."

The knot in Verin's throat threatened to strangle him. "Give me your coordinates. I'll help you search." Maybe Fynta's comms were being jammed, or she'd lost her link when the pod landed. Leave it to his little sister to be in one that crashed.

"See you soon," Aric responded. The icon light went out and another came on to inform Verin of incoming data. The hunter clambered back onto the speeder, swearing when he realized he'd forgotten to secure the alloy, and kicked into motion. He pushed the vehicle past its limits in his haste to reach the Mantis and left it smoking at the spaceport entrance.

It took twelve hours to reach the rendezvous, during which Verin beat HK's new parts into submission to clear his mind of the fear that tried to overwhelm him. Death had never shown an interest in his little sister before, and it wouldn't start now. Not before he'd had time to recover from losing Cinlat, not after she'd finally settled down with a decent man. Verin vowed to join Havoc on their search for the wayward commander, and he'd chew her out for being so di'kutla when they found her.

After what felt like an eternity, Verin stood at the airlock while he waited for the two ships to connect. He'd seen a lot of debris on his way to the Thunderclap, indicating the destruction of a massive ship. He wondered idly what Havoc Squad had been doing out in the middle of nowhere, and how they'd managed to get into a firefight where they were the last ones standing.

"It's good to see you, vod," Cormac greeted when the airlock swung open. The big man slapped Verin on the shoulder, and the hunter pulled a face at the pallid color of his skill. "I'm prettier now than I was yesterday," Cormac replied with forced mirth.

Balic ran an appraising eye over Verin, then motioned for him to follow. "New armor?"

Verin nodded. He had returned to Manda'yaim shortly after killing Revan and given his gear a makeover. He wondered if Fynta had gotten around to explaining why Mandalorians customized their armor, and what the colors meant. He'd settled for a drab, matte grey to signify mourning his wife. One day, maybe Verin would change it, seek out a new clan, and move on. For now, he needed space.

"It's in honor of Cin," Verin explained simply.

Tension entered Balic's shoulders, and he offered a quiet nod. "I say her name every day, though I still bugger up the words of the prayer." The big man cleared his throat, and Verin was relieved at the knowledge that preserving Cinlat's memory didn't rest squarely on his shoulders. He wanted to offer a few comforting words to the soldier, but they stuck in his throat, just as they had on Yavin. He didn't blame Cormac, he'd done everything he could. Verin simply wasn't ready to face it yet.

They had cleared the hallway when Cormac cupped his hands over his mouth. "Look who's here, Cap'." Balic gestured over his shoulder with his thumb as they entered the main room, stepping aside with dramatic flourish.

Jorgan took no notice, pacing from terminal to terminal. Yuun offered a polite nod as a greeting, and Elara slumped over the radar looking ready to pass out. Verin wondered how long it had been since any of them slept. Tanno Vik was the only one who spoke, folding his arms as he leaned back in a chair. "Seems we've lost the boss."

Even knowing what to expect, the words hit Verin hard. "How'd you lose her?" he asked, placing his helmet in one of the chairs in order to buy some time to remember how to breathe.

Elara spoke without looking up, though Verin understood the pitying look on Cormac's face all too well. "We were attacked. The major gave us orders to return to Republic space in order to warn them that we'd encountered a new threat." She cut off abruptly when Jorgan's fist slammed into the bulkhead next to the computer he leaned over. Everyone slowly melted away or became absorbed in their task.

Verin walked over to examine the dent the Cathar had left, then leaned against the wall. "What happened?" Aric glared at him, and Verin met him with an unyielding stare of his own. Finally, Jorgan closed his eyes, kneading them with his thumb and forefinger. His fight wasn't with Verin, but he understood the anger all too well.

Jorgan nodded towards the room to Verin's left. Inside, he found a large bed, a desk, lockers, and Fynta's helmet sitting on the side table. Aric shut the door quietly and massaged his knuckles while shaking his head. "I shouldn't have left her." His voice sounded muffled when he ran his hands over his face. Verin noted the broken skin on the Cathar's right hand; more damage than a single blow could have caused.

"Any idea who the attack came from?" Verin placed a hand on his sister's helmet, thinking of Cinlat's aboard the Mantis. He'd placed in a position of honor among the weapons.

"None," Aric answered with a sigh. "Fynta had just started her meeting with Marr. We know that he believed they'd found the emperor, but the attack began too soon for us to get any more details." Verin remembered hearing about Ziost, and knew that Fynta and Jorgan had been there. She'd spent a full fifteen minutes ranting about finding the hut'uun and ending him in ever more creative ways. Verin had been in a pub on Manda'yaim, but had found her language impressive.

The entire planet had been wiped out in under ten minutes, if the reports were to be believed. Millions dead. Verin drummed his fingers on the helmet before returning his attention to Aric. "They say Fynta provoked him."

Jorgan nodded, staring intently at his boots. "It was Lana's idea. She and Shan used Fynta as bait to draw the Emperor into the open so they could launch a massive electric strike to knock out all his pawns." He looked back at Verin, eyes narrowed and glowing. "It worked, for a little while. When he regained control, he wiped out every living thing. The planet is little more than ash now."

Verin wandered around the room, taking the chance to peek into his little sister's life. As expected, it was the picture of military tidiness, but there was evidence of Fynta everywhere. A clutter of datapads perched dangerously on the edge of the desk, likely reports that she'd put off in favor of doing something less productive. Grey cloth stuck out from under one of the locker doors, pinned and useless. Verin smiled at the subtle domestic feel of the room. This was Fynta's private life, the space she shared with her husband and let her guard down.

"So, you think this attack came from the Emperor?" Verin asked. When he looked up, Aric was watching him carefully.

"I don't know," the Cathar snarled, fists balling as if considering hitting something else. "The fleet was bigger than anything I've ever seen, and the ships' construction were completely foreign to us."

Aric took a steadying breath and relaxed his hands with visible effort. "Apparently, a few of the Sith planets have been attacked by something similar, but on a smaller scale. We've learned that this new force uses an army of droids called Skytroopers." He pressed a button on the desk, and a small holo of a ship appeared. It was tall and thin, with extrusions to each side. "There were thousands of them. They didn't have a hyperspace signature, just appeared without warning, and opened fire immediately."

"Did Fynta try to get back to the ship?" Verin knew the answer before Aric's scowl deepened. Guilt was written all over his face.

"Eventually," the Cathar answered at last, stepping closer to the table to lift Fynta's helmet in both hands. "You know how she is; had to help first. They were being boarded by war droids. The ship took a hit near us and jammed the docking clamps. We were venting atmosphere, so we couldn't board to help, but we couldn't break away either. She managed to get to the manual override to release us."

"But she couldn't get on," Verin guessed.

Aric nodded, staring at the faceplate. "The ships began to swarm, and Fynta told us to get back to the Republic to warn them. She gave me a direct order." His fingers tightened, voice shaking with anger as he pressed his forehead to the helmet and squeezed his eyes shut. "And, I followed it."

Verin gave the man time to work through his emotions, picking at a spot on his gauntlet to avoid looking in Aric's direction. It took only a few seconds for the Cathar to regain control. He sighed and lowered the helmet. "We got the message through, then got back as quickly as we could."

"So, all that debris I flew through was Marr's flagship?" Verin asked. Jorgan nodded again, setting the helmet back in its place with such tenderness that Verin had to look away. "Shab." Marr's ship was big and fast, and it would have been outfitted with the best of everything. Yet, it had been reduced to nothing.

"The Empire lost Marr too," Aric added. "The last transmission I received from Fynta was that she was meeting him in engineering." So, Jorgan knew that his wife and the Sith Lord were together, now both were missing. Verin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. This situation would be more complex than a simple search and rescue.

"Dorne managed to reach one of the men who escaped," Aric continued. "He said that Fynta called for the evac from the engineering deck. He couldn't say if she made it to one of the pods, though." The Cathar unhooked his datapad from his belt and tapped it in the palm of his hand a few times before holding it out towards Verin. "Then, there's this."

The message on the screen was time-stamped as twenty hours ago:

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Ret'urcye mhi

Remember me, riduur.

Verin stared at the screen, letting his eyes drink in the words before looking back at Aric. "She didn't think she would make it out." He handed the datapad back: that message would become invaluable soon. He still read everything Cinlat had ever sent him; from mission reports to the rare personal letter, it was torture and life all at once.

"I haven't shown this to the squad yet." Aric rubbed his face again. "I can't give up looking without a body."

"Do you know what it says?" Verin never thought his sister capable of such flowery speech; it was a bad omen.

Aric read over the words, then cast a wary glance at Verin. "It means, I love you, right?"

"Close," Verin hooked his thumbs in his weapons belt. "The exact translation is a little trickier, but I'll give it a try. That says that you hold her heart forever, that you know her more than anyone ever could. It's as close as we Mando come to traditional romance."

Verin hadn't known it was possible to tell under all the fur, but he swore the color drained from Aric's face. As expected, the translation hit him with more force than a simple 'I love you' could have. The Cathar understood what that phrase meant to Fynta as a Mandalorian woman.

Crossing the last few steps between them, Verin put a hand on Aric's shoulder. "I'll do everything I can to help you find her, vod. I promise."

Ilum
Underground Catacombs

Darth Kozen cursed under his breath when the comm fell silent. They'd chosen to split up to cover more ground: Jaesa taking the upper levels, while he traversed the lower. Three weeks of searching for a datacron that may or may not hold the answer to the Dark Council's questions seemed a poor use of the Emperor's Wrath. Quinn had been quick to point out that they existed to serve, not question. As punishment for his unwanted opinion, the Sith had set Malavai as lookout on the North Face, leaving the more sheltered positions to Vette and Pierce. Broonmark wandered over the surface, completely at home in the frigid weather.

Upon last contact, Vette had complained about the way the dry air affected her skin. Kozen had always found the Twi'lek's vanity amusing, given that he'd found her in a cage in the bowels of the Sith Academy on Korriban. Still, he promised to drop her off at a resort for her troubles.

Captain Quinn also found Kozen's relationship with Vette inappropriate, adding it to a long list of things he disapproved of. Kozen doubted that the stuffy man disliked the Twi'lek personally, she had a way of endearing herself to everyone, more that he felt Kozen's blatant fawning would be frowned upon if publicly expressed. Vette had proven herself to be loyal and indispensable. Her wants were simplistic, so the Sith found no reason to deny them. More importantly, she kept Jaesa's loyalty rooted to him.

By Kozen's estimation, he'd been out of comms contact for nearly twenty minutes. Long enough for Lieutenant Pierce to begin considering blowing holes in walls to make the search for their master more convenient. No doubt he and Quinn had devolved into a heated debate, leaving Broonmark to choose the winner. Given the Talz's proclivity for violence, there was little doubt whose side he'd choose.

As Kozen considered what awaited him on the surface, the dark unknown around him suddenly felt less stifling. Here, in the quiet, he wasn't required to watch over what accounted to a ship full of children his every waking hour, or for the inevitable blade that always sought to find his back. There were no threats from his own, just the silent peace that came with being truly cut off.

With a sigh, Kozen decided to mark his place in the catacomb and call it a night. His wrist chorno lit up the icy cavern, alerting him that the time was well past sunset, which put the rest of his team at risk on the surface. Down here, the ice insulated him, keeping the bite from the air. The comm crackled, echoing off the walls and bouncing Quinn's voice down the tunnel.

"My lord, do you copy?"

Kozen turned back the way he'd come and steeled himself for the return to civilization. "I read," he replied. "I am returning. We'll continue tomorrow."

Kozen allowed his people to spend the rest of the evening how they chose. Vette and Jaesa scampered off together, Quinn took his leave with a curt bow, and Pierce muttered about a beer and finding someone to warm his bed. Broonmark had opted to remain outside. The growling in Kozen's stomach was the only thing that diverted him away from his own quarters. The Sith opted for a quick stop by the local mess hall before retiring for the evening, perhaps one of the facilities less frequented by the rabble that huddled in the base.

As Kozen rounded the corner, a spark ignited in the Sith's mind so suddenly that he nearly stopped dead. His lip curled in disgust at the presence of the light side of the Force. He reached out carefully in an attempt to ascertain the Jedi's whereabouts. To his surprise, the mind he brushed welcomed him, and Kozen veered into a less inhabited hallway. The upper floors were too cold for permanent residence, but the computer monitors fared better. A few techs milled around in heavily insulated jackets, most carrying cups of caf and hunched beneath heavy hoods.

The Jedi was close, and Kozen ignited his lightsaber after ensuring that he was alone. He recognized the twisting emotions, felt them wash over him until he struggled to distinguish his own from those that belonged to his prey. A shadow moved, landing solidly from above and remaining just beyond the reach of his blade. The figure stood almost at height with the Sith Pureblood, and two purple blades sprang to life. She attacked without warning, and with a ferocity that forced Kozen two steps back. The tight confines of the space made for a difficult duel, but the Jedi wielded her sabers with practiced ease.

Kozen blocked each strike, but couldn't land his own. Blades locked as they pressed against one another, bringing their faces close enough to whisper. "It's good to see you again, Master Vaa."

Kaeto gave a throaty laugh and shoved them apart. Her attacks were relentless. Where less experienced knights might have worn themselves out with such heavy blows, the Togruta only grew stronger. Kozen pulled on the darkness within, feeling heat burn through his body as it flooded his system with strength. When Kaeto spun to snap her blade around, the Sith extended his hand, fingers pinpointing his target, and released the gathered energy directly into her chest.

The Jedi toppled backward, hitting the opposite wall with teeth-jarring speed. Kozen advanced, the red glow of his lightsaber making her skin shimmer like liquid gold. They glared at one another for nearly half a minute before he deactivated his weapon and offered her a hand. "I believe this round belongs to me."

Kaeto brushed her robes clean and huffed in reply. "I suppose I'm bound to lose one every once in a while."

"It only takes one." Kozen examined her attire, the black robes that made her appear unnaturally Sith-like. Even her eyes looked red, though he knew it to be a sham. He could feel the purity that, while tainted, still coursed through her.

Kaeto paused her inspection of her clothing and offered a hurt expression. "Are you saying that you plan to kill me, Lord Wrath?" She held herself with an air of defiance colored by hopefulness, and it made Kozen's blood burn in his veins.

"Not until I've grown bored of you." The Togruta chuckled, a deep sound that only fueled Kozen's desire more. "Why are you on Ilum?"

Kaeto put a finger to her lips, then closed the gap between them. "I believe you won our little duel, Sith. That means you get to set the parameters." It was a game they played, though he didn't fully remember when it started. Each time fate found them together, they fought. Neither ever struck the killing blow, but they didn't walk away unscathed either. The loser became the other's slave for the evening.

The Sith smiled at his Jedi lover. "You are trying to distract me." He felt her push at his mind, and closed it off too late. Emotions that Kozen knew weren't his nudged his body into reaction in ways that he didn't completely object to.

Kaeto's laughter echoed through the empty corridor when he pinned her against the wall. "My dear Kozen, you know the rules. Mission details are not a part of the game."

Kozen nosed along Kaeto's neck, allowing himself to be drawn deeper into her seductive mind games. "You are like no other Jedi I've met." Only Sith played with fire even after their palms had been charred, but Kaeto seemed unable to resist the pull. She flirted with the Dark Side as if it were something she could tame so long as she stayed beyond the reach of its jaws. Kozen knew that eventually, she would veer too close, and it would destroy her.

"No," Kaeto breathed in Kozen's ear. "I expect not." He heard the familiar tone of weariness creep in, felt her retreating from his mind.

"I've decided," Kozen announced, refusing to sever their connection. Kaeto shifted to look him in the eyes, and he pressed the memory of their time together on Nar Shaddaa against her consciousness. A sly grin spread her lips wide enough to glimpse the sharped teeth beneath. "But first," Kozen tipped Kaeto's chin towards his own. "You must remove the contacts. They do not suit you."

Kaeto's response was lost in a myriad of sensations that struck Kozen all at once. At first, he assumed it was Kaeto attempting to confuse his system until he realized that it was far too frigid to be connected to the Jedi. This-emptiness-crawled up Kozen's spine like a wounded animal, leaving a trail of searing cold in its wake. By the time it reached his chest, Kozen understood what it was. Death, not just the act, but the absolute absence of someone important. Someone he hadn't realized he shared a connection with. The name lingered in the back of his mind, refusing to make itself known, as if staying hidden would preserve it a little longer.

"Kozen?"

Kaeto no longer bore the smug expression from seconds earlier. She must sense it too, if not through the Force, then through him. Kozen pushed himself away from the Togruta, closing his eyes to drag the name into being. He had to be sure. The chill exploded outward, leaving a void in the Force. Kozen had his confirmation. Darth Marr was dead.

Dromund Kaas
Imperial Intelligence

"Vector?" Zolah asked as she knelt beside Lana. The Joiner crouched next to Solish, supporting her weight while being careful of his hand placement. He shook his head, easing the Cathar to the floor.

Moments ago they'd been discussing the aftershocks of the destruction of Darth Marr's flagship. Darth Nox had invited herself, her nose for gossip almost as legendary as the madness of that solidified her reputation. Zolah had just looked up to study to Cathar, noting Vector's discomfort as Solish read over his elbow, when both Sith went rigid.

Lana sucked in a breath, her eyes wide with what could only be translated as fear. Before Zolah had time to react, Lana's legs buckled, and she collapsed next to her desk. Vector's muttered curse, such a rare sound, showed him to be in a similar position with Solish. "What happened?"

"We are unsure," Vector replied. He sounded baffled, leaning back on his heels to meet Zolah's gaze.

Lana stirred, groaning as she rolled onto her side. "Cipher, help me up."

Zolah grabbed the other woman's hand and had just pulled her upright when Solish hissed. Vector stumbled backward to avoid the Cathar's claws as she launched to her feet. Golden eyes backlit by mania darted around the room until they finally settled on Lana. "Did you feel it?" Her voice grated as if she hadn't had a sip of water in weeks, forcing the hairs on the back of Zolah's neck to stand on end.

Lana nodded, politely shaking free from Zolah's support. "I did. I've never experienced anything like it."

Zolah waited patiently, watching Vector crawl back to his feet from the corner of her eye. "What was it?" Normally, she wouldn't push a Sith for information, but she felt the weight of what had just happened even without access to the Force.

Lana's eyes still looked dull from shock when she straightened her tunic. "The Emperor is dead."

Silence followed the statement. No one dared to speak, let alone breath. Lana had said it in such a cavalier fashion that Zolah wondered if the woman fully understood the ramifications of her pronouncement. Zolah's mind raced in a dozen directions, contemplating all the ways this would change the Empire. Though he may have been absent over the years, the Emperor's death would be felt across the galaxy, leaving a void in their delicate hierarchy. Whoever claimed the throne would likely want to reorganize the government again, meaning that Intelligence was looking at another overhaul.

These thoughts must have been evident in Zolah's expression, because when she looked to Lana again, the Sith merely nodded. "We will need allies."

Theron's name whispered at the back of Zolah's mind. He was trustworthy and would surely be interested in a threat strong enough to destroy a spirit who could eat planets. Zolah nodded, motioning for Vector to follow as she headed for the door. She'd need an encrypted line and room to dig. Upon her last report, Theron had been put on administrative leave and buried in paperwork somewhere in the Core World system. She didn't break stride until the Blade's airlock sealed behind her. As soon as Zolah was sure that they were safe from prying ears, she turned to her husband. "Vector, do you still have access to that burner?" The Joiner nodded towards the hidden safe in their room.

"Good," Zolah continued, motioning for him to retrieve it even as she headed for the bridge. "We've got our work cut out for us."

Mando'a:

gal [gahl] booze

manda [MAHN-dah] the collective soul or heaven

aliit [ah-LEET] family

di'kutla [dee-KOOT-lah] stupid

vod [vohd] comrade or brother

Manda'yaim [MAN-dah-YAI-eem] the planet Mandalore

hut'uun [hoo-TOON] coward

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum, Ret'urcye mhi: Based on my research, these words were never mean to be translated literally. They were a sentiment meant to show their trust in a partner. This was the ultimate commitment for a Mandalorian.

riduur [REE-door] husband