A/N: We've all played through the escape by now, so we're going to blast through some of these parts, and I'll to my best to make the transitions as smooth as possible.

The title was inspired by the song I See Fire by Ed Sheeran. I can't help but imagine that's exactly how any Outlander would have felt being woken into a galaxy that was in worse shape than they'd left it. Particularly the lines:

I see fire, burning the trees
And I see fire, hollowing souls
And I see fire, blood in the breeze
And I hope that you'll remember me


3632 BBY
Udesla
Orbit Over Darvannis

"We've got our next objective, are you ready?"

Torian stuck his head into the locker room aboard the flagship. Verin thought Flagship might be generous when describing the skiff that shuttled the young chieftain's most trusted warriors around the galaxy. It contained barracks, refreshers almost large enough to accommodate a small army, and plenty of space for weapons.

"Just about," Verin answered as he buckled on his holster, then patted the long-barreled ripper that rested against his thigh. He had never mastered the type of accuracy that Cinlat commanded while wielding two, but he couldn't bring himself to part with them. Verin kept one with him, and locked the other in his trunk.

Shaking himself from the memories, Verin strapped his grandfather's blade across his back. When he turned to join Torian on the bridge, the man found his way blocked by a woman with short hair, dark skin, and a challenging smirk. "Too busy stroking your beskad to heed the chieftain's call?"

"Jealousy doesn't become you, Keshal," Verin replied with mock offense. He tugged the strap tight around his chest and smiled. "I'm intimately aware of this particular kad's capabilities."

Verin sidled up next to the woman and leaned closer. "I'd be more than happy to teach you how to wield it properly ... if you ask nicely."

Keshal shoved Verin into the wall, knocking him out of view of potential passersby. He chuckled and slid an arm around her waist, meeting her mouth as their tongues dueled. When Keshal pulled away, brown eyes narrowed in accusation. "You left early again this morning."

"I wanted to check on Tranx before we landed," Verin admitted. He righted himself, then straightened the various weapons that Keshal had knocked askew.

Only a twitch at the corner of Keshal's lips indicated that she wasn't still furious. Crossing her arms, Verin's new wife waved a hand for him to continue. "And? Does my son still live?"

Verin nodded. "We came to an understanding."

Of course, that didn't get the boy out of the brig.

Tranx and a couple of friends had gotten ahold of one of the alor'ad's prized strill pups and painted it fluorescent green. Truth be told, they were lucky that the mother hadn't ripped their throats out for looking at her young, much less handling one. Not to mention, the repercussions of pissing of the alor'ad while in hyperspace. There were only so many places that a group of five boys could hide on a ship the size of the Udesla.

A nostalgic smile pulled at Verin's lips. He'd tried to talk Cinlat into starting a family for years, but he'd never imagined being a dad could be this complicated. Keshal's husband had died in battle nearly seven years ago. Tranx had been five and barely remembered his father apart from the stories Keshal told him. According to the holo that Verin had seen, the man had shared his wife's skin tone and boasted a tall, broad build with a serious demeanor; Verin's opposite in every way. Then again, Keshal looked and acted nothing like Cinlat, so he supposed that made them even.

"That is good," Keshal replied with a hint of laughter. "It would shame me for the boy's father to meet him in the Manda so soon."

Keshal and her late husband were native to Clan Cadera, and she had been the first to return from exile when Torian sounded the call. She'd also been the last to accept Verin into the clan, only relenting when their aggressions towards one another ended in a target contest. The woman had shamed him, scoring sixty-seven to his fifty-two. Those numbers would be forever ingrained in Verin's memories. Not that Keshal had any intention of letting him forget.

Afterward, they'd drank too much ne'tra gal and managed to get caught in a Skytrooper ambush. Verin resorted to using his beskad to work off the frustration of losing so badly, and his skill had won Keshal's respect. They stumbled back to camp, then, into Verin's bunk.

"Do you think he's ready?" Keshal asked, though it took Verin a moment to follow her meaning. Tranx was twelve, soon to be thirteen, with the verd'goten looming around the corner.

Resting his hands on Keshal's shoulders, Verin gave them a squeeze. She was a fierce warrior, someone that he'd never want to cross again, but every now and then, she'd allow herself to fret like any mother should. "He's a strong boy. We all do stupid things."

Keshal snorted, but her smile returned. "Yeah, I've managed to find an even bigger di'kut to raise my little di'kut," she teased, ruffling Verin's hair. His chest tightened pleasantly.

After nearly a year of functioning as a cohesive family unit, Keshal had allowed Verin to adopt her son as his own. He'd never experienced a more proud day than when Tranx called him buir. It felt surreal knowing that after his death, Verin's prized beskad would pass down to his son. For the first time, Verin felt that he had a future in the afterlife.

"Come on, it's best not to keep Torian waiting," Keshal said, punching Verin's chestplate playfully. He let her walk ahead, then smacked her ass, beskar clacking against beskar.

Keshal threw a challenging look over her shoulder, exaggerating the roll of her hips as she walked. "Not so fast, al'verde." She rubbed a circle over the spot Verin had struck, enunciating his new rank. "You'll have to work extra hard for this."

Verin met his wife's gaze with a lopsided smile that promised he'd do just that.

Location Unknown
-Veritable Hell-

"I have always loved the stars. . . ."

The conversation always started that way. Valkorion appeared when he wanted to show Fynta something she was missing, then vanished to let her think over what he'd revealed. As far as deaths went, this one was hell. Fynta heard blaster fire and inched towards it. Time moved lethargically here, setting her nerves on fire as her brain screamed for the normal flow of action.

Fynta's afterlife was a rocky wasteland, but sometimes, it did have a nice view of the stars. Icy blackness surrounded her most of the time, so cold that Fynta had to look down to make sure that her body was still there. A film covered her eyes, hazing the world around her, muting it to shadows. Unless, Valkorion had something spectacular that he wanted her to see.

"Your soldiers followed you beyond all reason," Valkorion continued, no more than a whisper in the wind. It appeared that today would be another you are special, I am special, we should join forces and be special together, kind of chat. As expected, when Fynta followed the voice, she found her aliit, Havoc Squad, sprawled at her feet.

Fynta walked down the line slowly, taking in each detail from the odd angles of their broken bodies to the blood soaked armor. She never wanted to forget their faces. A litany of curses spewed from her lips when Fynta reached Jorgan. A particularly painful death had been arranged for him this time. Still, she made herself look at her husband. As long as she had the strength, Fynta would fight the shabuir who haunted her steps. But, damn, she was tired.

As if sensing a crack in Fynta's resolve, Valkorion appeared as a barely perceivable figure by her side. "Ah, yes." He practically sighed with satisfaction as he gazed at Aric. "The bitter survivor. The one you claim as your beloved."

It had been a slip of the tongue a long time ago, back when Fynta was less resigned to her fate. Valkorion had latched onto the confession and used it to torment her relentlessly. She grit her teeth to keep from being baited into losing her temper again. Valkorion always looked pleased with himself when she showed anger.

"Love is such a delicate thing." Fynta cut her eyes at the Sith Emperor, suspicious of his sudden change of tactic. "This, I understand all too well. When left alone, it will wither and die."

"You don't know Aric," Fynta spat, then instantly regretted it when Valkorion smiled.

"No," the former emperor whispered, his form becoming more solid than Fynta had ever seen it. "But, I know you, and our time is short. It is time for you to learn who you really are."

Searing pain burned through Fynta's skull. She didn't remember falling, but her cheek pressed against frigid rock nonetheless. Valkorion's voice filled her mind, but she couldn't understand the words. They washed over her as she stared into Aric's brilliant, blue eyes. Then, darkness.

Coruscant
SpecForce Barracks

Jorgan sprang forward in bed and grabbed his skull with both hands. It felt like it had been split open. He'd dreamt the same dream about Fynta for years, so long that they'd become almost comforting. But whatever that had been... He'd never heard a scream so tortured, and he had watched in horror as golden flames consumed his wife's flesh. A lightsaber exploded from her chest, the shock of which had ejected Aric from the nightmare.

"Everything okay, sir?" Kanner asked, hanging her head down from the top bunk. Light green tendrils followed, accompanied shortly by two, large black eyes. Both females blinked at Jorgan, and he shook his head.

"Just a nightmare. Sorry to wake you." Aric took a shaky breath and rubbed his eyes, only then realizing why the image before him seemed wrong. The Cathar heaved a sigh before glaring at his XO. "Kanner, why is Shillet in your bunk?"

Shillet, the malnourished little Nautolan girl they'd found on Null, had made a full recovery and been unofficially adopted by Havoc Squad. They'd put together a bank account in her name to pay for the best schools and training in whatever career she wanted to pursue. Jorgan tried desperately to dissuade the girl from joining the military, but she snuck into the barracks nearly every week. When Jorgan asked what she'd used to bribe the guard, her green lips parted in a feral grin.

Kanner and Xaban enabled the girl, while Torg, Cormac, and Abbeth turned a blind eye to whatever mischief she got into, leaving Jorgan as the only voice of reason. Not even Elara provided much help when they were able to reach her. Shillet usually stayed in a boarding school on Coruscant, but she had a penchant for slipping off campus when she heard that Havoc was plantside.

Elara's brother, Aleksei, kept Tayl at home while she traveled, but often visited Shillet. It helped assuage some of Jorgan's guilt about being away so much. Sometimes, Aleksei checked Havoc's self made mascot out of school for the weekend in an attempt to give her some semblance of a normal childhood. As a matter of fact, that's where Shillet was supposed to be now, not sleeping in the bunk above Jorgan in the SpecForce barracks.

Kanner swung down from her bunk, landing on the balls of her feet, and sat at the foot of Aric's bed. "She showed up after curfew, I couldn't just send her back out. So, I told her she could sleep with me." The woman's raspy voice carried a hint of amusement when turned brown eyes on the Nautolan. "For tonight only, right?"

Shillet nodded so vigorously that the tendrils framing her face thumped against Jorgan's head. He shoved them out of the way and pointed up. "Fine, then I expect you to be asleep in less than two minutes, or I'm calling Dorne." Shillet yelped and vanished. The mattress squeaked as she situated her small body, then grew quiet. It always astounded Jorgan how Elara could evoke such terror in people without ever raising her voice.

"Sir," Kanner began, voice barely louder than a whisper. "You've had these dreams for years. Don't you think it's time you stopped hiding them from us?" Her hand hovered over his arm before finally resting on it lightly.

Kanner was terrifyingly perceptive, just like another hard headed woman he'd known. Some days, it was a comfort, others, more painful. Tonight, he found her straightforward approach to be the thing he needed to loosen his tongue.

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Jorgan sighed. "Dreams, yes. Not like this. This was something different."

Kanner's eyebrows pulled together, and Jorgan growled in frustration. The mattress shifted above them, and he shook his head. "Go back to bed. It'll be fine in the morning."

Kanner hesitated, then gave Jorgan's arm a gentle squeeze before climbing back into the bunk with Shillet. Aric lay back and did his best not to consider everything that nightmare might have meant for Fynta. The dreams had been such a constant that he'd taken them for granted. A weight settled in his gut when he considered the implications. What if he'd just watched his wife die?

Zakuul

"Would you shut up, I'm trying not to die out here," Koth growled as he weaved through the buildings below the Spire. Things had gone so well until that unplanned patrol ventured by. He'd been wrapped up in his argument with Lana about whether or not to shut down the reactor, that he hadn't seen the danger until it was too late. They'd spotted his shuttle, and Koth had been forced to take evasive action.

"Koth, where are you-" Lana cut off, and he pictured her lips pressed into a thin line when she continued. "Is that blaster fire I hear?" Koth switched her on mute until he got out of his current bind.

"Told ya, you should have brought me along," Hirani quipped on Koth's private line, and he wondered again how in the hell that woman had wheedled information out of him. He remembered of course, in vivid detail. But, a fantastic lay was no excuse to give the frustrating Twi'lek even more of a foothold in his life.

The shuttle shook, nearly wrenching Koth's shoulders from their sockets. He spared one more glance back at the reactor to ensure that it had gone dark before allowing himself a steadying breath. Unfortunately, he'd breathed too soon. One of his pursuers scored a direct hit, and the shuttle angled into a steep dive. Koth gripped the steering column and said a quick prayer to whichever god would listen.

The landing had been rough, but as luck would have it, there was another shuttle not far away with Koth's name on it. Of course, he needed to get through the waves of Skytroopers first. "Come on, HK, let's get this done." Koth kicked the door open, but paused to lift his personal comm closer to his lips so that Hirani could hear him over the noise of his ship tearing itself apart. "I've got to go, see you soon."

"Be careful, Koth." For once, his feisty Twi'lek didn't sound like a smart ass, and that troubled Koth.

With the sun setting, the blackout would hopefully make getting to Lana and the Outlander easier. Koth reactivated the link to Lana and was met with what sounded like the middle of an interesting conversation between the two women.

"I took a calculated risk. It paid off." That was the infamous Fynta Wolfe, the woman Lana had spent years searching for. She'd just saved thousands of Koth's people by doing whatever she'd done to thwart the overload that Valyin had started to flush out her prey. Naturally, Lana was displeased.

"You engaged in an unsuccessful attempt to kill us both, is what you did," the Sith shot back. Koth chuckled. Five years searching for this woman, less than twenty minutes into her rescue, and they were bickering like an old, married couple. Lana must have heard him, and tured her ire towards him. "Koth, where are you?"

Koth looked at the smoking pile of slag that used to be his shuttle and grimaced. "Ran into sort of a maintenance issue." He motioned for HK to follow, and the droid instantly opened fire on the incoming hostiles.

"How bad is it?"

Koth believed in honest answers, even when they sucked. "It's not great, but we're on top of it," he paused and glanced at HK. "Give us-three minutes?" The assassin droid nodded in agreement, then resumed firing. "Hang tight. Hope you're not scared of the dark."

Odessen

Zolah sighed and opened her mouth to berate Theron for his incessant pacing, again, when Vector laid a hand on her arm. She swallowed her sarcasm and gestured in defeat. Vector was more qualified to deal with Theron in his current state. All Zolah wanted to do was shoot him in the knees so that she could silence the frustrating click of boots on the metal balcony.

"Theron," Vector called. He waited until the other man stopped to look over the railing at them. Vector tilted his head towards the uneaten rations spread over the table. "Come down and eat. Lana will alert us when the job is done."

Theron ran a hand through his hair, mussing it further, and clomped down the stairs. If Zolah didn't know better, she'd say he was pouting. Theron flopped onto an overturned crate and snatched a ration bar. "We should be there."

"Alright," Zolah snapped so suddenly that both men looked at her. "If I find something for you to do, will you stop moping?"

A man in Mandalorian armor coughed as he carried a load of supplies past. Theron glared at his back until the man vanished, then at Zolah. "Thanks for that."

"It's no more than you deserve," Zolah answered, ignoring Vector's silent plea to drop it. "Lana, Koth, and Fynta are all perfectly suited for this mission. Having you hover like an old schoolmarm would only make things more difficult."

Theron took a bite of his ration bar, chewing deliberately. Zolah sighed. "The War Council is set, and even should everything go as planned, it will take Lana three days to arrive here." Theron swallowed, and Zolah saw his jaw relax in preparation to protest. She held up a hand to forestall his argument. "Fynta is suffering from carbon poisoning. I have an old ally on Alderaan who may be able to help. Doctor Lokin has worked on more complicated matters than a simple case of botched stasis. Why don't you and Vector fetch him?"

"We know this man," Vector added with subdued enthusiasm. "He would be a valuable asset and great benefit for Commander Wolfe."

Theron looked between Vector and Zolah as if betrayed. Finally, he shoved to his feet. "Fine, but we'll talk about that comment, eventually."

Zolah smiled sweetly. When Theron relied on dredging up past offenses, no matter how recent, she knew she'd won. "Of course, my love." Zolah stood and kissed him gently on the lips, then bent to offer Vector the same. "You boys run along, fetch us a doctor, and have some fun."

"How exactly do you plan for us to run along?" Theron asked, crossing his arms in a way that made his jacket squeak around his shoulders.

Zolah's grin widened. "I have an acquaintance who has been itching for a chance to get offworld again. I'll contact her while you pack."

Sensing that he had nothing left to bargain with, Theron threw his arms up and stalked towards their shared quarters. Vector stood, speaking while he watched Theron's retreat. "Who will we be passengers of?"

"Darth Nox," Zolah answered, pleased that she'd managed to keep the cringe out of her voice. The Cathar had set her sights on Vector as another potential oddity to add to her collection. She had eyed Theron as well, but who didn't?

Vector turned towards Zolah, his fathomless black eyes unblinking, and one, thin eyebrow hitched upward. "Theron won't like that." She noted that her husband made no mention of his own feelings.

Zolah wrapped her arms around Vector's waist and smiled lovingly at him. "I suspect not, which is why I'm sending his closest friend." She hoped that together, her boys could fend off Solish and her pet pirate's advances. She didn't voice this concern, of course. "The two of you haven't had any time together in a while. It'll be good for everyone." Not to mention, their absence would allow Zolah to finish the preparations on Odessen without worrying about diplomacy, or Theron's skewed vision of perfection, getting underfoot.

Vector sighed and finally returned Zolah's kiss. "Very well, but we won't lie to Theron." Without allowing her to answer, he strode in the same direction as their favorite spy, presumably to pack for the upcoming trip.

Zolah waited until both men were out of sight, then turned her attention towards Doctor Oggurobb's lab. He had yet to turn in his acquisitions list for her approval, and Zolah highly doubted that it had slipped his mind. "Now, where is that slug?"

Zakuul

Five years.

Koth's words echoed in Fynta's ears as she stumbled into the wall of their battered shuttle. He yelled for someone to extinguish the fires springing up throughout the small vessel while Fynta tried not to empty the contents of her stomach. Someone swore, it might have been her, but when Fynta's eyes cleared she stood before a freshly smothered blaze with the fire suppressant in her hands.

Fynta dropped the now empty container and staggered to the bridge. Everything hurt. Her muscles screamed from disuse, and more than once Lana had needed to offer aid when Fynta's cybernetic leg shut down. As best she could tell, the damn thing had suffered in the cryo and was stuck in a bootup loop. She'd get roughly ten minutes out of it before the whole thing gave out. It took sixty seconds for the circuitry to come back online. Not to mention, the uncomfortable jolt up her spine with each cycle.

"Alright, hotshot," Koth called over his shoulder. "Lana said you could fly. Take the reins, and I'll see what I can do about our guests."

Pushing the pain aside, Fynta crawled over Koth's lap as he slid from the pilot's seat. She took comfort in the familiar feel of shuttle controls in her hands, and nudged the thrusters to maximum in an effort to shake their pursuers.

"Oh, hell no," Koth shouted. "Hold on!"

The shuttle jarred so violently that Fynta banged her knees into the console. She muttered an oath that was lost in the wailing of alarms. Whatever that had been, it hit a lot of vital components of their transportation. Fynta's arms shook with the force of keeping their nose from dipping as she angled out of the city. They'd barely made it over wilderness before one of the engines blew, and the shuttle rapidly lost altitude.

"Fierfek," Fynta ground out between clenched teeth. She hadn't survived imprisonment and poison for five long years to be taken out like this. Banking hard, she shouted a warning to her companions. They were going in fast and hot, Fynta just hoped the densely packed jungle would cover their landing enough to make an escape. She had an emperor to kill.


Mando'a:

beskad [BESS-kahd] slightly curved saber of Mandalorian iron)
kad [kahd] saber, sword
alor'ad [al-OHR-ahd] captain
manda [MAHN-dah] the collective soul or heaven
ne'tra gal [NAY-trah gahl] black ale - sweet, almost spicy black beer similar to milk stout
The verd'goten was the name of the traditional rite of passage in Mandalorian culture in which a Mandalorian youth was accepted as an adult.
di'kut [DEE-koot] idiot
buir [boo-EER] father
al'verde [AHL-vair-day] commander
shabuir [SHAH-boo-EER] extreme insult