Set sometime between picking up Torian into the Alliance and the attack on the Eternal Fleet ship.


The hard chair that Theron currently occupied dug into his sore body, no matter how he tried to sit in it. He had a running theory that all medical facilities provided the most uncomfortable chairs possible, purely to determine the extent of a patient's fatigue or injury- clearly, only those most desperate for a seat would rest in such a torture contraption. Theron hadn't even thought his injuries were that bad (he'd had worse than a broken hand, a mild concussion, and a pile of bruises decorating the entire right side of his body before), but apparently the after-effects of being caught in a particularly sadistic Sith's wave of Force Lightning was draining on a body's energy. And that wasn't even taking into account his damaged implants.

Considering some of the other injuries borne by patients in this facility, Theron was well off. He was lucky he'd only been electrocuted and thrown around some, and that the Sith who'd caught him had wanted to prolong the torture instead of killing him quickly. If the lightning had been any more intense, he most certainly wouldn't be conscious now, and stood a risk of being dead from his wounds.

Weary hazel eyes looked to the kolto tank he was slouched beside, eyeing the limp, floating figure within again. Yes, Theron was lucky indeed. Xaja Taerich was less fortunate.


Twenty-seven standard hours earlier…

"Team Aurek has reached the objective," Xaja said into her comm as she stood guard in the server room of a Zakuulan outpost on Onderon, letting Theron and Lana begin their work in slicing into the secure files. This was apparently a secure transmission centre for the Zakuulans in the Outer Rim, which made it a target for the Alliance. "Beginning the data transmissions now."

"Copy that," came Korin's crackled answer into his earpiece. "We've managed to bottleneck the Skytroopers and they'll be a while getting to your position. You should have lots of time."

"Team Cresh is picking up some activity outside the building," Vette suddenly said, presumably still at her post of a lookout, playing spotter for Reanden and Torian, two of the best snipers in the group. "We can't see from this angle, but there might be reinforcements arriving for the Zaks."

Theron looked up from the console he was typing into, meeting Xaja's eyes as he answered back into his own comm. "Keep us posted. If it's Knights, we'll need Team Besh to intercept."

A heavy sigh, before Sorand responded to the channel. "On it. But Aurek, you might want to hurry it up some. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"It's not a small datafile we're sending to the shuttle," Lana grumbled beside Theron. "We're going to need these files if we're going to ever understand the Spire's communications systems. As long as it's not Vaylin herself, we'll be fine."


Theron stretched in the hard duraplast chair, his vertebrae popping with the motion. Why hadn't they all paid more attention to Sorand's ominous feelings?

The ex-Sith in question limped into the room, looking otherwise normal if one ignored the arm he had in a sling and the terrible dark bruises on his throat. Force-healing only went so far when healing a dislocated shoulder. "How's the head?" he croaked at Theron, sounding like he'd had his throat recently crushed and only barely restored to somewhat-operational capacity, which wasn't far off from the truth.

"Hurts, but my hand's worse." Ignoring the spurt of pain that movement caused him, Theron raised his undamaged left hand, his fingers trembling but not violently twitching like they had been not long before. "Look, I'm not twitchy anymore."

"Not more than usual." Sorand gingerly sat down in the next chair and gave the kolto tank a worried look. "How is she?"

Theron looked back at the tank and its lone occupant. "No change. She's been stable since they got her heart going again." Some part of him said it was good news, that she hadn't flatlined (again) and left him here alone, but on the other hand she was in there and she wasn't out with him and conscious and shaking her head at his worry for her. Trying to get his mind off of his concern and the fear that lingered in his chest, the spy looked back at the man who should have been his worst fear in another life, but now was something of a comrade or a friend, almost a brother. "Should you be talking?"

Sorand shrugged his good shoulder. "Probably not," he whispered as he settled in, trying to not wince as he bumped his arm and almost succeeding. Brown eyes glanced back to Theron. "Rest," croaked the younger man. "I'll watch over her."

Theron shook his head and valiantly ignored the vertigo that motion caused. "Can't sleep, not with her like this." He'd already stubbornly resisted any attempts to remove him from his post beside the tank, and had only let himself be treated for his wounds in here. He wasn't going to do anything that would risk him not being here for her if she woke up and needed him… or if she never woke up again. The last time he'd fallen asleep, he'd woken up to alarms and medical droids shoving him out of the way as they'd fought to stabilize her.

Apparently Sorand didn't have the will or the vocal capacity to argue the point with Theron, as he silently joined the spy in his vigil over the woman who connected them both.


"Transmission is at sixty-seven percent," Theron updated the team as he studied the transponder he'd hotwired into the console. A device of his and Dr. Oggurobb's design, the machine was programmed to transmit securely straight to an onboard computer on his own shuttle that Koth was currently waiting in as the escape pilot. This was the machine's first major test in an operation like this, and so far Theron was pleased with the results.

Xaja was less so. "Can your next prototype be faster?" the Jedi asked as she paced behind Theron, checking on the transmission status herself, then resumed walking around the console. "I feel like we're in more danger the longer we sit here."

"Cresh would have let us know if there were Knights trying to break in," Theron reassured the Jedi with a hand on her arm. Sixty-nine percent. "We should be okay for how long it'll take to get the rest of this transmitted."

"Assuming they haven't been all killed in a strike while we've been in here," Lana grouchily added, ignoring Theron's glare to the back of her blonde head.

The comms cracked. "That's a negative, Lana," Korin said, laughter in his voice. "You'd have heard it anyway."

"Heard what? A strike or you trying to sing them all to death?"

"Guys-" Vette's voice interrupted the bickering with a note of fear that dropped the smirk from Theron's lips instantaneously. "We got trouble."

"Like what?" Xaja demanded, suddenly all business and combat-readiness. "Knights? Arcann or Vaylin?"

"No…" Vette said, and she sounded as terrified as Theron had ever heard her before. "It's… it's the Wrath. Maglion is here."

Theron felt his heart sink into his stomach. The quite-likely-insane Emperor's Wrath was one of the three worst people in the galaxy for Xaja Taerich to ever meet- and the Sith in question had a grudge match out for her family as well, simply because they were all Imperial-born traitors who'd worked to bring down Vitiate. By extension, the man would be going after Lana for that same reason, and Vette because she'd been his slave before Reanden had somehow arranged for her escape and freedom. And then Theron was doomed simply for being a Republic agent, even before taking into consideration who his parents were, and Torian was guilty of treason by association.

The fact that Maglion Taerich was Reanden Taerich's younger brother only made the entire situation worse.

Lana jerked her head up from the display she'd been watching, her already-pale face now a worrying shade of white. "Is his apprentice with him?" she grit out through clenched teeth.

"We can't tell if she is, but that doesn't mean anything. Xalia can stealth anywhere." Reanden had replaced Vette on the comms, and he sounded as scared as the Twi'lek did. "Drop what you're doing and get the hell out of there, now. We need to run."

Theron knew how much of a terrifying reputation Maglion had, not to mention what his psychotic little assassin of an apprentice, Xalia, had achieved all on her own. That knowledge didn't stop him from glancing down at the transponder longingly, willing the numbers on the screen to rise faster. Seventy-four percent…

"We can't collect any more data from here," Xaja finally said as she moved to stand directly in front of Theron, eyes wide with fear but still commanding. "Grab the transponder and let's go. We'll have to make do with what we've got."

"I pull the transponder now, we risk losing all the intel we've just gained," Theron protested. "Is there a way to buy me time to-"

"Theron." That wasn't the loving way she normally spoke to him, that was the I-am-your-commander-and-I'm-giving-you-a-direct-order voice. "Abort the mission. We need to go now."

With a muttered curse, Theron grabbed the transponder, watching the number on the screen (seventy-five) go dark as he shoved the device in his jacket pocket. "All right, let's move. Korin, Sorand, Shara, what's your location?"

"Heading for the side exit," Sorand answered back over the comms. "You three take the back."

"We'll watch from here and let you know where he goes," Torian piped up. "Hopefully Koth can get a rescue in to- watch out!" The sound of a terrible crash filled the comms, and when it passed, there was silence.

"Cresh, come in," Xaja snapped into her own comm. When she received no answer, she tried again, her face draining of colour. "Cresh, do you copy? Dad? Torian? Vette?"

"We can't do anything for them in here," Lana finally said, grabbing Xaja's arm and trying to hide just how scared she was as well. "We need to get out of here before Maglion tracks us all down. Move!"


Soft voices roused Theron out of the doze he'd fallen into. It was a well-trained spy's instinct that kept him still while he quickly woke up, listening to identify who was near him and the subject of conversation. That was Sorand's voice, and there- Shara's with him, her tones softer and accented differently than her husband's. "... healers say he'll be okay, he's just got new burns and a head injury to recover from. The di'kut's dealt with those enough that he'll be fine in the long run, right?"

"What's a few more lost brain cells?" Sorand's voice was lower and gentler than Theron had ever heard him speak before. The ex-Sith still sounded hoarse, but it had improved some. "How are you feeling?"

"Me? I'm not the one who got into a duel with the kriffin' Wrath of all people." There was a pause. "I'm also not the one who didn't wear their beskar'gam again, Sor'ika…"

"I got choked and thrown around, and wearing the full kit wouldn't have helped!" Sorand protested.

"Yeah, I know, cyar'ika. I just... " There was a heavy sigh and the rustle of fabric. "I worry about you lot."

"I know, love. I'm worried too."

Another long pause before Shara spoke again. "How's he holdin' up?"

"He got to enjoy a few moments of being Xalia's plaything. I don't know how he was conscious earlier."

"How'd he get outta there alive?"

"She saved him."

"After what that dar'jetii did to her? Your sister's a walkin' miracle, ya know."

"Oh, believe me, I know."

And she needs a miracle of her own, Theron mused as he cracked one eye open to confirm the current status of the tank and its occupant before he settled back down, trying to not disturb Shara and Sorand's conversation.


Disaster struck only minutes after Team Aurek had run from the control room. As it turned out, Maglion wasn't the immediate concern for the three- Maglion wasn't the one who leaped out of thin air to Force-throw the team in three separate directions with a cackle and the ignition of two ends of a saber-staff. "Traitors and cripples!" screeched Lord Xalia, her golden eyes glinting in the darkness. "My blades deserve better blood than yours!"

Xaja was the first to regain her feet, twin blue lightsabers lighting in a challenge to Xalia's weapon. Behind the Sith, Lana's single red lightsaber lit the air around her. Knowing he was outmatched here, Theron rolled to a standing position and raced for cover behind a crate. He hadn't moved too soon, because he felt the air electrify only inches away from him as he dived for the protection of the storage unit. Xaja had barely waited to confirm Theron wasn't dead before she was flying through the air at Xalia, blades first. The Sith turned back to meet her Jedi target and grinned maliciously.

All Theron could do was hide and watch the fight. With Lana and Xaja both fighting Xalia, the risk of him accidentally hitting one of the other two women with a dart or a bolt was too high, and he certainly lacked any of the melee combat skills that the Force-users wielded. So he waited, and silently cheered when, for a few seconds, it looked as if Xalia was near defeat.

That was before the assassin got a kick in that made Xaja stumble backward and sent Lana flying again on a wave of lightning. Lana screamed once, then struck the far wall hard, and Theron couldn't tell if she was unconscious on impact or if the crate he'd been hiding behind, suddenly moved and thrown hard at the blonde, was the reason why she didn't move.

Xaja swore loudly as she regained her footing and jumped back at Xalia. "Get to Lana!" she shouted over the sounds of battle, although Theron was already in motion, moving to his fallen one-time rival as quickly as he dared. Lana stirred weakly as the spy dropped to one knee over her.

"Hold still," Theron hissed as his implants picked up Lana's vital signs. Probably broke a few ribs getting thrown like that. Lot of bruising. Nasty concussion. We get out of here to a medical facility and she'll be fine. "Can you move anything?" he asked as her eyes flickered open, her face tight with pain.

Lana groaned, but managed to shift her arm and foot. "Can't move my left arm," she gasped out, her eyes squeezing shut again as she tried to fight the pain off. "It must be broken."

Theron leaned over to examine the limb in question, and winced. "Yeah, it's bad. Good news is, nothing vital's hit."

"Wonderful," Lana groaned. "Xalia?"

"She's still fighting Xaja-" The clink of metal on the plating interrupted Theron as he watched a too-familiar lightsaber hilt go rolling past him. Xaja had lost her offhand weapon to a clever move of Xalia's, but wasn't out of the fight yet, switching to what Theron recognized as the Juyo form- a ferocious, purely-aggressive form that most typical Jedi wouldn't have trained as a preferred style. It was one more typically seen in Sith or Dark Jedi.

Xalia's eyes widened as she was forced to defend from Xaja's sudden onslaught, and for a second Theron thought that the victory would be the Jedi's. But then Xaja stumbled on something, and her guard slipped for a fraction of a second, but that was enough for the assassin.

Theron heard a voice screaming "NO!" as one of the red blades pierced Xaja through the stomach, the Jedi's movements ceasing as the plasma shot out in a neat crimson line from her back, her face frozen in a horrified, pain-filled expression. Some part of his brain registered that he was the one screaming, and that Xaja wasn't even making a sound as her remaining lightsaber fell from her fingers, clattering away as her blue blade winked out of existence. Xalia withdrew the blade and smiled cruelly as the Jedi fell to her knees, then collapsed entirely and didn't move. No, not her, anybody but her, please…

He wasn't fully aware that he was moving until he'd raised his right arm, ignoring Lana's shout of "Theron, no!" behind him. His focus was vengeance. How dare this psychopath of a Sith take Xaja from him after he'd lost her already! "Toxicity ten!" he snarled as he aimed his arm at Xalia, his fist clenching as the toxic dart fired from his wrist gauntlet.

Xalia stepped aside like she'd dodged an insect, and raised a hand as if in boredom. Theron recognized his strategic mistake as the lightning hit him hard, and for what felt like an eternity the pain in his heart was matched by the agony on every single nerve ending in his body. He thought he was screaming in pain, but he couldn't tell until the lightning stopped, replaced by the feeling of a hand and long, cruel nails grabbing his shirt. "Awww, poor little crippled spy," Xalia cooed mockingly. "You cared about my cousin, didn't you?" She giggled. "Stupid, poor little man." She released Theron, but he didn't have time to try and process his next move before the lightning hit him again.

This time he knew he'd screamed, just by the ache in his throat when the lightning finally ceased. "Hmm. What am I gonna do with the crippled little spy who can't even feel my cousin die?" Xalia tapped her deactivated lightsaber hilt against her lips in thought as she paced. "Maybe I should let you live, so that every time you breathe it'll hurt when you remember she's dead." Her pacing brought her to tread painfully on Theron's right hand, taking the time to grind her heels firmly down on him- the spy cried out as he felt more than heard the snap of breaking bones in his fingers. "Ooops, clumsy me!" Xalia giggled. "But see, the other side is that torturing you like this is so much more fun!" She stepped off of Theron's broken fingers and turned back to look at him. "So really, what would be better- torturing you to death now, or letting you suffer forever?"

Theron groaned, but when he looked up at Xalia, it was with pure hatred. "Toxicity nine," he whispered, and clenched his damaged hand as best as he could. The dart shot out silently, only to be neatly sidestepped again.

"How rude." Xalia raised her hand again and grinned maliciously. "But thank you for making up my mind, cripple spy. I do so love hearing a good scream…"

And Theron had no choice but to oblige her as the lightning raced through his body again. Some absent part of his mind whispered statistics and facts to him as he writhed among the streams of blue-white electricity. Sustained shocks like this can produce permanent damage to a target's nervous system, if the victim doesn't die. Prolonged exposure can result in permanent damage to a target's lungs or heart. This is gonna fry my implants-

The lightning ceased, and he was thrown through the air, landing hard on his back. Stars swam over his vision as he struck his head on the wall, fumbling left-handed for his blaster, determined to not die without a fight. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lana struggling back to her knees, holding her broken left arm against her chest, but more importantly he could see Xalia approaching him, re-igniting her saber-staff as she did. I'll see you soon, Xaja, he thought as he raised his uninjured hand, some little part of his mind wondering what his parents were going to do when they received the news of his death here on-

A blue beam pierced Xalia from behind, exiting from where her cold and twisted heart once beat. Looking around the mortally-wounded Sith, Theron felt his heart leap when he saw Xaja rolled onto her stomach, one trembling hand raised in Xalia's direction, still holding her Force-thrown lightsaber in place. She looked away from her kill, met Theron's eyes, and managed to give him one final, weak smile.

Then she collapsed, her lightsaber falling with the rest of her body, the blade deactivating as the weapon left Xalia and rolled away. Xalia stayed upright for only a fraction of a second longer, the mad yellow light leaving her eyes as she fell in a heap, her last breath rattling out of her mouth.

Adrenaline alone got Theron first to his knees, then to his feet, lurching to where Xaja lay motionless, his limbs helplessly twitching from the remainder of the electicity he'd just suffered with every other step. He was just aware of Lana struggling up somewhere to his right as he fell beside the Jedi. "Xaja... " he whispered as he pressed his fingers to her throat, his voice hoarse both from the grief he was trying to hold back and the screams he'd made only minutes before. "Please, no, don't leave me here like this…"

"Is she-?" Lana finally made it to the fallen Commander, and only now Theron could see the blood matting her blonde hair and the fear in her eyes. "She can't be… we need to get her out of here, Theron. We… we can't leave her like this." That was so unlike the ruthlessly-pragmatic Sith that Theron almost looked away from Xaja to see her- if he had, he would have seen one tear fall down her pale cheek.

The spy leaned forward to press his forehead against Xaja's still-warm temple, feeling his own tears build in his eyes and fall to meet her skin. "Please, don't leave me. I need you." He moved to press his lips against her skin, then froze, his fingers shifting on her throat as he fought the lingering twitches his electricity-abused body was still giving off. That was a pulse- a weak and fluttering one, but still there. "... Lana."

The Sith's breath came in a gasp that wasn't all pain. "She's still alive? Can you carry her?"

"Can, or I'll die trying." Gritting his teeth against the pain from his damaged hand and sore body, Theron slid his arms under Xaja's shoulders and knees. The wounded Jedi's face tensed for a second with pain, but she didn't stir otherwise. "You able to move at all?"

"I'm not as hurt as she is." Lana had to use the wall to stand back up, but she'd managed it, despite wavering back and forth, her entire body shaking like a leaf. "Koth," she said into her comm, "are you still there?"

"What the hell's going on down there?!" Koth's frantic voice echoed in Theron's ears. "Last I heard was something about Sith and then all of you went silent!"

"The Commander's hurt. We need med-evac now." Lana groaned as her body reminded her of her own substantial injuries. "I don't know what the status is of the other teams-"

Blaster fire sounded, and the far door slid open. Torian gasped as he hurried to Xaja's other side, returning his blaster to his back; the Mandalorian's face was pale and marred by blood and new bruises, but he was in a far better condition than anyone else currently present. "Fierfek- Vette!" he shouted over his shoulder. "Get in here and help Lana! Team Aurek's all got it bad!"


Theron's eyes flashed open as the vision of Xaja falling in front of him again, impaled by the blood-red lightsaber, haunted his memory. For a moment, he was proud of himself for not gasping, and then his hand started throbbing as he bumped it against the arm of the chair and holy hell that hurt-

"Easy, son." A surprisingly gentle hand rested on Theron's arm to guide him upward, and it took a second for the disoriented spy to recognize Reanden standing over him. The older man sported a bandage over his temple, an impressive black eye, and thoroughly scraped-up skin on his hands and arms that Theron could see, but he'd come out of the encounter remarkably lucky. Not many people could say they'd shot the Emperor's Wrath and lived to tell the tale. "You're all right. You're still in the medical facility."

Trying to not act embarrassed over his display of panic, Theron nodded as he slowly stood up, waiting for the dizziness to pass before moving his head around. "What's the latest?"

"Xaja will be in kolto for another day at least. Korin's out of the tank, but the medics tell me he'll be unconscious for hours yet. Sorand and Shara are with him. Lana's been up and walking around, but she's pretty much living off painkillers right now." Reanden gave Theron a worried look. "I'm half surprised you're not, too."

"Didn't want to be out in case…" Theron looked back at the kolto tank.

"Theron, you got lightning-tortured by a psychopath and nearly died for it. She'd be worried about you if she knew you were doing this." Theron felt a pair of hands settle on his shoulders. "I got one of the droids to bring in a cot for you, since we both know you're not leaving. Go use it."

"You're not at a hundred percent either," Theron argued. "You're the one who got thrown from a platform and got hit by shrapnel. And didn't you just shoot your own brother?"

"To save my sons!" Reanden turned away for a moment, and Theron regretted his short-tempered words when he saw the older agent's shoulders tense under his jacket. But when Reanden spoke again, his voice was level. "Yes, I killed him. But he ceased to be my brother years ago. The son of a bitch arranged for my wife to die, and tried to kill both of my sons. He deserved to die."

Theron wearily lowered his head as he went through what he'd been told on the shuttle flight to the medics, Koth piloting like a madman and Vette bringing the spy up to speed as she'd tried to help him patch up the injured and dying. Maglion had been the one to trigger the collapse of the hidden platform that Team Cresh had been watching from, and then had immediately gone to hunt down Darth Imperius' Force-signature, letting his apprentice and daughter Xalia sneak in to kill Xaja. The Wrath hadn't needed stealth to take down Sorand's team- he'd just been able to overwhelm them, sending Shara flying and nearly crushing Korin to death with the Force. Sorand had barely managed to save his brother's life by fighting against his uncle and keeping the older Sith's attention away from the smuggler or the bounty hunter. But even then, Sorand had been disarmed, and had been held by the throat with the Force at Maglion's hand, slowly dying until Reanden rounded the corner and managed to get the fatal shot off before Maglion could react.

Yes, Maglion Taerich had deserved death. But his had come from a lucky chance and his brother's ruthlessness. "I'm sorry," Theron finally said. "He was a murderer and a lunatic, but he was your brother."

"He used to be. My little brother died when he was sent to Korriban- what came back in his place was a monster." Reanden took a deep breath. "And I don't regret choosing to save my children over him. I'd make the same choice again." He looked back at Theron, and for a second the younger man saw deep pain in the older spy's gaze, and a tight attempt at a reassuring smile. "I made the right decision. I'll be all right- I mourned my brother years ago. He just took forty years to die fully." He turned back around and rested a hand on Theron's shoulder. "Rest, Theron. I'll keep watch."

Theron let himself be finally guided to the cot against the far wall, still within easy view of the kolto tank that Xaja floated in. "You sure you don't need rest?" he mumbled.

Reanden bitterly snorted. "Like hell I'm going to sleep. They need me." He gestured in the general direction of Xaja fighting for her life, and toward the door through which Korin was still slowly recovering. "I'll wake you if anything changes."

Too weary to argue, Theron settled in on the cot, feeling his pain and fatigue rapidly overpowering his desire to stay awake. His last image was of Reanden taking the spot he'd just vacated, stretching out his legs, and making himself as comfortable as he could for his vigil. Come back, Xaja. We've already lost you once, and now there's even more riding on you. I miss you.


The flight to the nearest medical facility was only eight minutes, yet to Theron it felt like forever. Unable to really do anything to patch up any of the injured with his muscles spasming every few seconds and his broken fingers swelling up to the point of uselessness, he'd been unceremoniously pushed into a chair and ordered to sit still.

He felt like he'd gotten off far too easily, compared to the rest of the team. Lana occupied the next seat over, gritting her teeth against the pain of her broken arm and ribs. Sorand, while he was up and moving, was limping and communicating in whispers when he could speak- the Force-choking had nearly killed him, his power over the Dark Side notwithstanding. Shara was moving stiffly under her beskar'gam, but it didn't stop her from frantically working on her brother-in-law with Vette's help. Korin was in just as bad a state as his sister- while Maglion's lightsaber hadn't hit him, he'd still been the recipient of Force-crushing, and it had been moments away from killing him. Theron hadn't yet decided what the worse way to die was- impalement or Force-crushing. Looking at Reanden, who'd been working with Torian to at least keep Xaja alive until they reached help, Theron had to marvel that the older agent hadn't had a complete mental breakdown yet with the knowledge that two of his children were quite likely dyin- no, Theron was not going to entertain that thought, because the Taerich survival rate was exceptionally high, and both Xaja and Korin were too damn stubborn to die like this.

The shuttle bumped as it landed, and in the next second Torian was already carefully picking Xaja up, the tiny Jedi not a great burden to the Mandalorian, injured as he was. Koth came tearing out of the cockpit to help Reanden lift Korin up. "I called ahead to warn 'em of incoming injured. Vette, run out an' let 'em know that-"

"On it!" Vette was down the ramp before it had fully descended and ran like Vaylin herself was after her to the medical facility. Torian wasn't far behind the Twi'lek, running as fast as he could move without jarring Xaja's wounds further.

Theron started to get up to follow the Mandalorian and his precious burden, but then the shuttle started spinning dangerously and he found himself being pushed back down. "Take it easy, spy-boy," Shara said as she gripped his shoulder. "You ain't gonna do her any sort of good if you die doin' something stupid. 'Sides, you look like you got a hell of a smack upside the head a few times in there."

"You don't look much better," Theron grunted as he started getting back up (slower this time). For all that Shara swore by beskar'gam, it hadn't really helped her when Maglion had thrown her like a rag doll across the corridor, although it had saved her from the pipe that had been thrown at her a second later. Despite her bruises, she was in a far better state than most of the rest of the team.

"I was a low-priority target." Shara sounded like she wasn't sure if she was offended by that or relieved. Hauling Theron's uninjured arm over her shoulders, the Mandalorian woman started making her way to the ramp as Koth and Reanden disappeared with Korin. "You sure you're okay, Sor'ika?"

"Fine," croaked the ex-Sith as he started helping Lana up. "I can still walk well enough."

"That's debatable," Lana hissed as she was propped up against the taller Sith's arm. "You're hardly in a fit state to do much of anything."

"Pots and kettles," Sorand wheezed. "'s an old metapho-" He suddenly gasped, dropping Lana to the floor of the shuttle and earning a yelp from the blonde. "Xaja!"

Theron's heart stopped in his chest. "What?!" he demanded as he started to push away from Shara and hobble faster to the ramp. "What is it?"

Sorand didn't answer with anything but a white face and a horrified look to the exit of the shuttle. Ignoring Shara's sharp curses, Theron staggered to the hull and looked out, and nearly cried out when he saw a small army of medical personnel gathered around one of the two stretchers being moved to the building. Korin lay relatively unattended, face pale and bruised and far more solemn in his coma than he normally looked, but he wasn't the source of the current commotion. Theron's fears were confirmed when the breeze brought words back to his ears. "... the defibrillator over here, now! We're losing her!"

A defibrillator. Her heart had stopped beating. Theron fell to his knees as the blood drained from his face, unable to register Shara behind him as the bounty hunter tried to make him look away. "Theron... you don't wanna watch this," the Mandalorian said over the sound of Theron's pulse roaring in his ears, sounding more worried and uncertain than he'd ever heard her before. "Neither do you, Sor'ika. She... awww, blast it, not like this, jetii!"

He should have looked away. But he couldn't tear his eyes from the scene as another medic came running to the scene with the crate containing the de-fib unit, and the flurry of activity increased as the medics set to work on their dying patient. Some part of him saw Reanden fall to his knees, Koth's hand on his shoulder, and Vette turning to hold onto Torian's arm with a deathgrip apparent even at this distance. A medic shouted "Clear!" and Xaja's body jerked on the stretcher. The frenzy slowed for a second, then picked right up to its fervered urgency- it hadn't worked. Another shout, another sickening jolt into the tiny redhead's body, and then Theron heard the faint "Got it! Let's move, people!"

The spy sagged as the Jedi was rushed out of his vision, the wounded smuggler right behind her. Please, let her live...


It was another day before Xaja could be safely moved from the medical facility and onto the shuttle. The medical droid had argued against it, but Reanden's sense of paranoia overruled anything the droid could counter with. The best place for the wounded Alliance Commander wasn't in a dangerous area of neutral space- it was back on Odessen with a tight security detail.

Two days into the journey home, Theron felt himself being roused from sleep at her bedside by the feeling of a hand on his wrist. When he opened his eyes, it was to see Xaja slowly blinking herself back to awareness. Her eyes found his, and the discomfort on her face melted into a small smile. "Hey."

Theron leaned forward and ran his thumb over her cheek. "Welcome back," he whispered. "We missed you."

Xaja shifted her weight a little bit closer to Theron and tilted her head toward him. "How long?"

"Four days this time. We're flying back to Odessen right now. The rest of the team's still alive." This probably wasn't the best time to let her know just how close she'd been to losing her family. "We were worried about you."

"Sorry," Xaja whispered. Her fingers managed to find his right hand, still bandaged as the broken bones recovered. The Jedi's brow furrowed in worry. "Theron… you're hurt?"

Theron shook his head. "It's not bad, I promise. Mostly healed already. How are you feeling?"

Xaja seemed to think about her answer for a second, but the twitch of her facial muscles seemed to give her away. "Hurts," she finally admitted, and Theron was amazed that she hadn't registered the pain of her near-fatal wound sooner. "Tired, and hurts."

"I know." Theron kissed her forehead before standing up to inject the Jedi's next dose of painkillers into her arm. "You need rest."

"Don't… don't go," Xaja whispered, her eyes already drooping as the drugs began to take effect.

"Wouldn't dream of it." Theron sat back down and pressed another kiss to her cheek. "I love you."

Xaja's lips relaxed in a soft smile, and she mumbled something that could have been "I love you too," before fading back into sleep. Theron sighed as the Jedi relaxed, shifting his weight on his chair so he could keep his watch over her. There'd be time enough later to confirm for her that Darth Maglion and Lord Xalia were both dead, and to admit that they'd only recovered part of the data Theron had tried to transmit to the shuttle and were still no nearer to finding a backdoor into the programing of the Spire droids. But they'd all made it out alive (even if Xaja and Korin had been far too near to death for Theron's ease of mind). We'll find another way in, and this time we won't have your uncle trying to kill us all. We're all alive to plan the next round, you most important of all.


See? Told ya the Outtakes weren't always happy and cheery. This plot bunny's been sitting in my head for literally years, ever since Xaja was made for an RP site and I wound up developing her family backstory, and I'm happy it's finally written out.

I promise the next Outtake will be back to goofy silliness, for real! Thanks for reading.