"We all felt we needed to grieve then, and none of us had the time for it. In a way our dire straits were a blessing, because they focused us on what lay ahead instead of the things behind us. The crisis at Bavinyar, awful as it was, kept us from being swallowed by our loss."

A'Sharad Hett was alive, but it felt like a waking dream.

They'd swept him into Scarlet Thranta's airlock, hurried him into a bacta tank, and soaked him in it the whole ride back to the fleet, but he'd hardly needed it. His spacewalk over Belsavis had left some of his extremities damaged by the cold, and a brief shortage of oxygen to his brain, but that was all.

When the shuttle from Thranta carried him over to Iconoclast, he felt as though he was strangely dislocated from his body. He could feel the tense moods of the shuttle pilots, though they kept their faces blank. As he looked out the viewport at passing ships he could feel the life presence emanating from all of them; fainter for the smaller pickets, but blazing bright from big ships like Iconoclast and Slayke's flagship, Freedom Song.

Most bright of all, however, was the strange, ugly vessel now hanging in space between the two flagships. It looked as though multiple bulk cargo haulers had been melded together. Hett could feel the Force-presence of many Jedi radiating from that ship, more Jedi than he'd thought still alive.

It was a miracle he'd never expected, and it should have cheered him, but he felt strangely detached from their luminous presence. After the Force had gifted him with the vision of Skywalker's descendant, it felt as though the path he'd been set on put more distance between him and other Jedi, not less.

When the shuttle landed inside Syne's dreadnaught, he was met by the woman herself, with Sajin waiting patiently on one side and two columns of Bavinyari troops behind her.

Syne kept her expression cold as Hett walked down the ramp, but he could feel her relief in the Force. Something else felt strange about her presence, but he couldn't place it. He wanted to embrace her right there on the flight deck, but he knew she wouldn't approve, so he stopped himself a meter in front of her and snapped a salute.

"It is good to have you back, A'Sharad," she said, and her voice didn't waver.

"It's good to be alive." He lowered his hand and nodded in Sajin's direction. Her face was grim and his spirits fell. "I've heard about Bavinyar."

"Grant started by destroying the settlement on Waylar," Sajin named the planet's second-most-inhabited island. "That's over a hundred thousand people."

He glanced at Syne. "Have people started evacuations?"

"There is no place to evacuate to," Syne scowled. "Grant's raised an interdiction field over half the system."

He could still feel her relief, but it had been overtaken by a surge of anger and restless helplessness. Grant had caught them in the perfect trap: surrender or let Bavinyar be destroyed.

He could feel her will, strong as durasteel these many months, finally start to waver. He knew she was honestly thinking about giving in. It would save so many lives; from a moral standpoint, a Jedi standpoint, it was hard to object.

Sajin said, "Mister Hett, you arrived just in time for a meeting about the situation."

"Lead on, then," he said.

The blond woman nodded and started for the exit. Syne followed and Hett slipped alongside her. As they entered the corridor their shoulders pressed together and he felt a touch of firmness and warmth, and a sudden clarity through the Force.

He felt the memory of her father, still calling for revenge. He felt bitter knowledge the futility of their endeavor. He felt deep, deep hatred for Octavian Grant, the man who had killed her family and brutalized her world.

He felt the life growing inside her.

He staggered and nearly fell against the wall. Syne and Sajin both stared at him but he pushed himself upright and kept walking.

He could feel it now, faint but impossible to deny, a fourth presence among them. He didn't know how old it was, or what gender, but he knew there was a child inside Syne.

She kept her face hard and her eyes ahead. Hett wanted the answers to a thousand questions but knew he could ask none.

Everything had changed in an instant. Even the vision of Skywalker's child was banished by the reality of his own. The Jedi Temple hadn't prepared him for love or war; it certainly hadn't prepared him for fatherhood.

The universe had become a different place in an instant. As his mind struggled to adjust, he followed Sajin and Syne into the same conference room where they'd first met Slayke. The big red-haired man was there again, as was Yvolton. Two new men were there as well. They sat side-by-side but looked profoundly uncomfortable together. One was an older man, gray hair tired back in a messy ponytail, dressed in ragged brown Jedi robes. The other one wore his gray hair short; he had sharp, angular features and wore jet-black body-armor. A T-visor Mandalorian helmet, also black, sat on the tabletop in front of him.

He didn't see Hallena Devis's dark face. It took him a moment to remember she was dead on Belsavis.

He sat down next to Syne. The old Jedi was looking at him intently but he didn't say a word. Syne introduced him to the newcomers, who in turn named themselves as Djinn Altis and Walon Vau.

Yvolton started by explaining the details of Grant's siege, and listed the settlements he'd targeting thus far. He'd started with Waylar to get his point home, but since then he'd mostly been targeting smaller islands with populations of less than ten thousand. When he'd move back to bigger targets was anyone's guess.

"Our options are extremely limited," Yvolton said. "We simply don't have the ships on Bavinyar to evacuate the planet and we have no way of getting them through the blockade. Grant's forces outgun ours almost four-to-one." Grimly, he looked at Syne. "For the good of Bavinyar, it would save the most lives if we surrendered."

"That's not an option," Hett snapped. All eyes went to him. Altis' felt especially probing, though he felt no penetration in the Force.

"Surrender's never been my style." Slayke put in. "Madam Syne, my men are willing to fight. I know we can't straight-up beat Grant, but there's got to be some way to break that interdiction field and get people off the planet."

"I'm afraid we just don't have the ships," Yvolton said. "The atmosphere-capable ships in this fleet are too small in number to evacuate anything more than a portion of the population."

Master Altis cleared his throat. "My ship, Chu'unthor, is atmosphere-capable."

"How many being can she hold?" Slayke asked.

The old man considered. "I'd say at least two hundred thousand, if we pack them in."

A silence fell over the table. Hett could feel minds working through the new possibilities and accompanying risks: Slayke, Syne, Sajin. Yvolton wanted to surrender as soon as possible, that was clear, though he wouldn't go against his madam by saying so. Walon Vau was the one Hett couldn't read: the man sat there with arms crossed over his black-armored chest like he didn't really care.

Syne didn't have the Force, but she must have sensed the same thing. "Mister Vau, I'd like to know what your forces are and whether they're at our disposal."

"They're not my forces, and they sure as shab aren't yours." The man sounded as harsh as he looked. "We lost almost half our number busting some Jedi brats off Belsavis."

"I'm very sorry about that," Altis said.

Hett could tell how guilty he felt, but Vau waved him off. "It doesn't matter. The point is, we have more boys we need to get home. They're going to be at Bavinyar and so will we. That's our goal, so no offense, darling, but we're not going to fight your war for you."

"Chu'unthor is still at your disposal," Altis clarified quickly.

"Mister Vau, could you specific?" Syne asked. "Where are your 'boys' now?"

"They're riding a star destroyer back from Belsavis. They'll be at Bavinyar in about five hours."

"Are you talking about prisoners?" Sajin frowned.

"I'm talking about clone commandos, boys I trained, and I'm getting them out of Palpy's clutches. Problem is, one of 'em's being held prisoner, which is a long story, so we're going to have to find a way to bust them out."

"You're going to board a star destroyer to rescue your men?" Yvolton said in disbelief.

"If that's what it takes." Vau sounded determined and unafraid. "By the way, my ears on Valediction- that's the vicstar- say they brought a few more prisoners from Belsavis. I hear a Jedi, a kid, and a woman, don't ask me who."

"Oh," Altis paled. "Oh, dear."

"What is it, Master Altis?" asked Syne.

"Call me Djinn," the man muttered. "But… since Belsavis, I've felt a presence in the back of my mind. It almost feels like Master Plett, the Jedi who ran the safehouse there, was calling for me… But I'd been told he was dead."

"So this ship's got Jedi and clone deserters onboard," Slayke stroked his red beard. "Throw in a pack of Mandos and that's one less destroyer to worry about."

Vau said, "If you're suggesting something, come out and say it."

Slayke grinned at Syne. "Want to try jacking a star destroyer?"

The room reacted with stunned silence, but Slayke didn't stop grinning. He said to Vau, "We took my ship, Freedom Song, at the end of the war. Granted, it was full of tinnies and we found a way to switch most of 'em off, but we still managed to take it. I'd love to have one of the Imps' best new ships in our fleet."

"This is entirely different," Yvolton protested. "You can't just 'switch off' clones."

Vau made a sound, deep in his throat. Everyone looked at him, expectant. He said, "Might have to get back to you on that."

"Madam, are you actually considering this?" Yvolton spun on her.

She was; Hett could sense it. She didn't want to surrender, even now. The question in her mind was what good it would do to seize one enemy destroyer when they were still so badly outnumbered.

"If we take that ship we can throw Grant's whole plan into disarray," Hett said. "If we can get close enough to destroy an interdictor, we might be able to get people off-planet."

"You have to get to the planet first," said Vau. "With an interdiction field that big, they'll see you crawling at them from a long way out."

"There are ways to force Grant's fleet to break its placement grid," Syne said. "They will, however, be very costly."

"Madam Syne, please reconsider," Yvolton's voice cracked with desperation. "Tens of thousands are already dead. If we attack, and we fail, the entire Bavinyari people will be wiped out. Just like Gibadan. Just like Caamas."

"If you surrender now," Hett said, "What kind of Bavinyar will you leave behind?"

Yvolton raged at him but didn't speak aloud.

"Mister Vau," Syne said, "Please look into our options regarding Valediction."

"I will," he nodded.

"Andrein, Mister Slayke, I want a potential tactical plan for an evacuation of Bavinyar in one hour. Understood?"

"Yes, Madam," Yvolton nodded, loyal to the end.

"Excellent." Syne rose from her chair. "Sajin, observe their meeting. A'Sharad, please follow me."

She went immediately for the door. Hett hurried after her, and he felt Altis' eyes on his back. He had a feeling the old man had already figured out everything.

They made it all the way to the lift before he asked, "Jereveth, what is it? What's wrong?"

The lift started to move, taking them toward her private quarters. "You're acting strangely, A'Sharad. I don't need you to speak for me."

"I'm not speaking for you, I'm just-" He stopped. There was no point in hiding anything. He stabbed a finger on the lift controls, bringing it to a halt. He looked down at Syne, pressed close to him in the crammed space of the lift tube, and said, "You're pregnant."

She blinked. Her dark eyes betrayed nothing but he could feel her alarm.

"I didn't… I didn't look into your mind with the Force. I felt it, when I got off that shuttle. When we touched."

"Is feeling different from looking, A'Sharad?" she asked stiffly.

"It just happened. Ever since the battle, since I went EV, I've been having… I don't know how to describe it. The Force, it feels… different. Stronger. I don't know."

Her features softened. "Being near death can change a person."

"I've been near death before. This is different. Don't ask me how, I don't know. But it is."

She took a breath. "Is there anything you've felt that I should know about?"

"Yvolton hates your idea. He thinks it's suicide."

"I don't need magic powers to tell me that. What about the Jedi and the Mandalorian?"

"The Mando wants his boys back. I trust him that far and no further. He doesn't care whether you save Bavinyar or not."

"And Altis?"

"I think he just wants to save lives."

"If I wanted to save lives I'd surrender."

The bitter truth hurt. He spoke another. "If you surrender, our child dies."

She nodded. Her resolve still wavered, he could feel it. Syne was a patriot above all else, and her people were dying by the thousands as they stood there and talked. No matter what she chose, many more would die soon, and it was tearing her apart.

He put both hands on her shoulders. "We can't surrender now. We'll beat this. We'll survive."

"We can't win, A'Sharad. Someone is going to break before today ends."

"It will be the Imps. I promise you. We'll make Grant pay for everything he'd done to us." He squeezed her shoulders hard enough to make her squirm.

"Is this your Force speaking?" She said with faint mockery.

"No. Only me."

Silently, he thought: Me, and my father.

After all this time, A'Sharad Hett finally understood the man who had made him.

-{}-

The flight from Belsavis had been awful, but when we arrived at Chu'unthor I found myself terrified to step onto its deck.

I couldn't bear to see Kal'buir after I'd gotten his sons killed.

I felt genuine relief when I didn't see him, but his absence soon became just as worrying. Most everyone else was there: Kina Ha, Uthan, Ny, Besany, Ruusaan with you in her arms, Ordo now standing, Laseema wilting between her crutches. Just seeing her broke my heart. Scout stood on the edge of the group with Lord Mirdalan improbably pressing his flank against her leg.

Mereel came down the ramp first, and he staggered into Ordo and Jaing's arms. For a moment all of us stared at the tableau of the three surviving Nulls before we forced our attention elsewhere. Besany quickly explained that Vau and Altis had gone over to hold conference on the dreadnaught that was apparently leading this fleet. When Ordo broke away from the other Nulls, he pulled Corr and Fi aside. I later learned that he was informing them that one of their Omega brothers was dead, the other captive, and that Vau was working on a plan to save them. They gave no outward response to this new wave of grief. Like the rest of us, they'd been broken so much already that one more blow failed to register.

Behind us, the second freighter roared into the hangar. It settled on the other side of Cornucopia and began to disgorge passengers. Most of Kal'buir's family hovered awkwardly apart, but Scout and Kina Ha went over to help Margolis and Ash get all the children off the ship. I didn't want to join them. Grief and self-blame had centered me and made me all Mando again.

I found the strength to ask where Kal'buir was. I directed the question at Ny and Ruu, but it was Besany who answered.

"He's taking it hard, Bardan." She hooked a hand on my arm and led me aside.

I realized that while I could feel shock and grief bleeding off her in the Force, she looked more composed than anyone else. Someone had had to become the emotional stabilizer of the group, and I suppose I should have expected Besany to take on that role.

"Where's buir?" I asked her.

"Just leave him be for now, Bardan, please. Ny already tried, but…" She shook her head.

"Does he blame me?" It was a stupid, selfish worry, but it leaped out of my mouth.

"What do you think?" Besany said harshly. "He blames himself, Bardan."

Of course he would. That was Kal'buir.

"What can we do for him?" I asked.

"I don't know. Grief is something you have to work out for yourself. When Etain died, he…"

She trailed off. We both knew this was worse than even Order 66. That night, the order of the galaxy had been torn apart.

This time something more important had been broken: family.

I looked back at Laseema. Ruu and Ny had gathered around her and all three were staring at the young boy in Ruu's arms, like they were expecting you, Kad'ika, to take their pain away.

"Laseema's doing better than I expected," Besany said. "Better than Ordo or Jaing."

"Mereel's been almost catatonic. Part of him's just gone. It's too much for them."

"What about you?"

I blinked, surprised, then looked away. "I'm okay."

"Bardan, it wasn't your fault."

"I knew you'd say that."

"You might believe it, one day." Her tone softened with sad knowledge.

"We'll see."

"Do you know how they died?" she asked. "I mean, I think the others might want to know."

"Kom'rk and A'den were keeping fighters off our backs. They were shot down. Atin, he was fighting… a woman. One of Palpatine's special agents."

I couldn't call her Sith. The word had been so many things for me all my life: first bogeyman, then another breed of hated Force-user, and finally a label for an evil genius I'd never met. All the while it had been abstract. I'd never actually expected to face one in combat, or to hate one like I'd never hated anyone before.

At that point I didn't know whether or not Corr had killed her, but I prayed she'd died, slowly and painfully in those tunnels, right next to Atin's body.

"What about Prudii?" Besany asked. "What about Maze and Zey?"

Nobody had said my old master's name since we left Belsavis. Even hearing it seemed surreal somehow. I'd spent so long trying to distance myself from the man and everything he represented, only to have him elbow his way back into my life, and after some struggle I'd almost gotten used to that. Suddenly he was gone, gone for good, just like I'd always wanted, but never the way I'd wanted it. I was too stunned to feel anything about Zey at all.

"I don't know," I said finally.

Besany didn't ask me if I was okay again. She knew me, and she knew when not to press any more. She put her hand on my arm again and kept it there, and we stood in silence watching people move slowly through the hangar: the clones huddled in their grief, the women around the child, Uthan and Mirdalan drifting and lost, and in the far corner the Jedi children, terrified but alive, whom so much had been sacrificed to save.

For a moment, but only a moment, I hated them too.

-{}-

There wasn't much Scout could do for the children rescued from Belsavis, but she felt she had to try. The children were a mix of species but they all gave off the same harrowed emotions through the Force. Ash, the Margolis woman, and their Ho'din handler Ustu did their best to move the children out of the hangar and to someplace more welcoming. Ash in particular tried to use the Force to calm them, and Kina Ha had her own powers to amplify those calming efforts, but even the ancient Jedi Master could only do so much.

Scout had to wonder if that was how she'd looked to the Mandalorians when she'd first shown up on their door: confused, scared, helpless, pathetic.

She wished she could say she felt any different right then.

Scout helped get the kids up to one of the garden domes. Being among nature seemed to calm them and remind them of the planet they'd fled from. Kina Ha, Margolis, and Ustu stayed with the kids while Ash hooked her arm into Scout's and led her back toward the hangar.

The Jedi woman had done a pretty good job projecting confidence for the kids, but now that they were alone Scout could tell she was still reeling from the deaths of her friends, just like everyone else.

"Master Altis went over to the flagship with Walon Vau. That was a couple hours ago. I'm not sure when they'll be back." Scout explained, though the full sweep of things had gone well over her head.

"We heard about the siege at Bavinyar," said Ash. "I don't know what we can do about that. I wish there was something, but I don't think there is."

The thought of the settlements on Bavinyar being wiped out, island by island, filled Scout with horror and help-lessness. "There has to be something. We're Jedi. We can't let all those people die."

"We can barely protect ourselves right now. And those Mandalorians…" Ash shook her head. Strands of red-brown hair fell over her face. "They've taken a lot worse than we have."

They stepped out into the hangar to see the group still clustered in front of Aay'han. Scout's heart fell, not just because of the pain they were obviously in, but because of how separate she felt from them, from anyone.

Being a Jedi was about saving lives, protecting people, bringing justice to the galaxy. Scout had never been a good Jedi but she'd believed heart and soul that she had to try and do it right. Now she felt as lost and helpless as those children, uncertain of the first step to take.

She heard the sound of thrust engines and turned her attention to the hangar mouth. A two-seater Starchaser flew in through the gap, over the docked freighters, and settled in the rear of the hangar.

"Master Altis," Ash said, clearly relieved, and Scout followed the older woman across the bay. They were joined by Ranik Solusar, a middle-aged Jedi whom Scout had briefly met.

The Mandalorians, too, were walking in that direction. Scout didn't understand why until the fighter's cockpit popped open and the black-armored figure of Walon Vau jumped onto the deck, followed by Altis himself.

Lord Mirdalan dashed up to its owner, all six legs pumping, but Vau barely noticed. He pointed at Uthan and called, "Doc! Get over here! We've got to talk!"

The scientist stepped out of the group, strangely nonplussed. Vau grabbed her roughly by the shoulder and pulled her aside, probably talking, though with his helmet on Scout couldn't see his lips move.

Altis, meanwhile, went straight for Ash and Scout. He had a look of surprising determination on his normally soft, genial face.

"Ash, Ranik, come with me. You too, Scout," he added, though he'd barely even looked at her.

"What is it, Djinn?" Solusar fell quickly in step and Scout did her best to follow.

"We're going to try and evacuate people from Bavin-yar," he said as they entered the hallway.

Ash skidded to a halt and Scout did too. "Master, is that even possible?"

"There's a plan being considered right now. We need to prepare. That means we should start by taking as many people as we can, including the children, and sending them somewhere safe, including your son, Ranik. We have enough ships for it, I think."

Ash was still gaping. "The Imps have almost twenty ships. They have a huge interdiction net. They'd destroy us before we even get close to the planet."

"Ash, we can't just sit here and do nothing, not while thousands of people are dying. We wouldn't be Jedi if we did. We have to act. And don't call me Master."

"He's right," Solusar prodded. "We've got to help."

Ash swallowed. "This is what got Geith, Callista, and Nor Vald all killed."

"I'm not going to hide," Altis said firmly. "I'm not going to play Yoda and sit in my temple and send other beings off to die because I don't want to get attached to something. I get my hands dirty, mine. I always have. You know that."

"I do, but this isn't a fight we can win."

"If we work with Skirata and Syne, there might be a way," said Solusar.

"Exactly. For that, we'll just have to trust our new friends. And the Force." Altis gave a wry smile. His attention shifted, finally, to Scout. "I won't tell you what to do. I was never your Master. You should probably get on a ship with the children and get far away from here. It will be safer."

Those were exactly the words Scout didn't want to hear. Her hands balled to fists and she stared up at the old man. "I'm a Jedi, sir. I want to do something, not run."

His expression softened. "Nothing Ash said was false. What we're going to be doing is exceedingly dangerous. In fact, we'll probably all get killed."

The typical good humor had drained from his voice. He was deathly serious. Scout mind flicked back to all the dead Jedi she'd known, from Master Maruk to Whie to Arligan Zey, and to her own surprise she didn't feel afraid.

"I have to do this." She swallowed. "I was on a mission with Master Yoda once. I know you and the Mandos don't like him. You think he was cold and detached but you're wrong. He was ancient, and he knew more love and pain than anyone."

For a second Altis, the revered Jedi master, flinched from the accusation in her gaze.

"Master Yoda told me even one candle can hold back the night. He said we can be that candle, or we can be the night, we just have to chose. I've thought about that every day since the Order fell, every single day. That's what I want to be now."

His expression relaxed into one of those easy smiles. He put a hand on her shoulder and said, "You shine brightly, Scout. Come with me, then. We have to get ready."

-{}-

When the news had come in from Belsavis, Kal Skirata had been in one of Chu'unthor's small kitchens with Ny and Ruusaan. Altis had come to deliver it. His voice had cracked with honest sorrow and he'd said, over and over, how sorry he was. Ny and his daughter put their hands on him and told him it wasn't his fault, there was nothing he could have done.

Being surrounded by so much kindness had made it worse. He'd thrown off their touch and shouted at them to leave. When Ny had insisted on staying he'd knocked a pan off the hot stove, spilling scaling water on the floor, and thrown an empty glass against the wall, shattering it. He'd nearly struck his daughter before the look of shock and fear on her face had stopped him with shame.

They'd retreated, all of them, leaving him alone in his pain. The door had hissed shut, drowning out all sounds except his own ragged breathing and the blood pounding in his ears. He'd sunk to a floor glinting with shattered glass and spilled water, back to the wall, knees against his chest and hands on his head.

He stayed there for a very long time. They marched through his head, a grim parade: Ruu and Ny staring at him in shock and hurt when they'd only tried to help. A'den, Prudii, Kom'rk, Atin, Gilamar, even Jilka, Maze, and Zey, all ghosts. He knew they'd never leave him.

He stayed there and no one dared intrude on his grief. He hated himself for that, too; Ordo and Jaing, Laseema and Besany, even Scout must have been broken with their own flavors of grief, and as their father he should have been there for them. He should have been able to do something to help them heal, but he'd failed them just as he'd failed the dead.

When the door to the kitchen hissed open he didn't look up. He could see, just barely, a pair of black boots and beskar-plated legs in the doorway, and he realized that he'd been expecting them all along.

"Look at you now, Kal," a familiar voice grated. "Look at you now."

Walon Vau was the last person he'd wanted to see. Even Altis or another of the shabla Jedi would have been better than Vau, but as punishment went, he knew he deserved much worse.

He looked up at the black-suited figure hovering over him. Vau hadn't brought his helmet. Seen from below his face looked old and gaunt, like someone had carved away his flesh with knife-strokes.

"More bad news," he said. "Something happened to Darman and Niner. One's dead, one's in prison on a star destroyer. We're not sure which is which."

Anger came from nowhere. He sprung to his feet. He grabbed Vau by the edges of his chest armor and threw him hard against the kitchen counter. He found himself spitting rage into Vau's cool gray eyes, his pinched aristocratic face.

Anger wilted as fast as it had come. Energy drained and he fell back into the exact same pit of self-reproach he'd jumped out of. The new loss should have hurt more. The unknown of it should have been an extra knife-twist in the gut. But instead he felt the same, as if he'd reached his personal limit of grief.

"Scorch ended up with Niner's buy'c," Vau explained. "We're lucky he did. I've been talking to him. We're hatching a plan to get our boys home."

Confusion broke through the grief. His limbs felt heavy but he kept clinging to Vau's armor. "What 'we'?"

"A lot's been going on. You've been out of the loop, Kal. I've let you indulge in self-pity osik long enough. It's time to get in the game."

"Tell me, shabuir. What 'we'? Jedi? That friendly fleet from Belsavis?"

"All of the above."

Skirata had known Walon Vau for decades, and he'd never been more surprised by him than now.

"I'm not working with the shabla Jedi any more," Skirata snarled. "Not working with anyone. I should have listened to you. You were right. Is that what you want me to say? What you came here for? You were right. We should have let those little kids die, we should have sold Altis to the Imps. If we had, then Kom'ika and At'ika and Prud'ika and-"

Vau hit him with a closed fist. Pain shot out from his cheekbone and numbed his face, but only for a second. His arm shot up for a return punch. Vau blocked it with a forearm and punched him again. His head snapped back and he stumbled, then fell back against the opposite kitchen-counter and sunk to the floor, right where he'd been when Vau came in.

The other man dropped to a crouch and stared Skirata in the eyes. "We don't have shabla time for this, Kal. Get your osik together and do it now."

"Easy for you to say, you chakaar," Skirata snarled as he touched his stinging cheek. "You never gave one fat shab for any of those clones-"

Vau punched him again. His head snapped back against the wooden cupboard.

"Don't you dare, Kal," Vau snarled. "Atin was my boy too, remember?"

Skirata groaned, "You beat him so hard he ran to me."

"He couldn't handle a tough buir. He needed a soft one like you."

"That's not true-"

"Don't even say it, Kal. You shabbed up your blood family so bad let those boys into your heart when you knew what was going to happen to them. You knew from the moment we joined Jango on Kamino. You got soft, you lost perspective, and now you're wallowing in shabla self-pity. Well, my other boys are still alive and I'm going to do something besides cry on the floor. I already let Sev down. I'm not failing the rest.

"We're getting Scorch, Fixer, and Boss out, and we're getting Niner or Dar too, whoever's left. If we have to join hands with the jetii and the Bavinyar fleet, fine. We'll be using them as much as they're using us."

Kal ran a hand beneath his nose. He saw only a little blood. "Explain," he ordered.

Vau explained. He talked about Grant's siege and ultimatum, about Syne and Slayke's combined fleets, about how the Omega and Delta boys were on a star destroyer now en route to Bavinyar, along with a handful of Jedi prisoners from Belsavis. He talked about his conversations with Scorch, the impromptu lab he'd thrown Uthan into, Altis' mad plan to play savior to a planetful of trapped civilians, and Syne's madder plan to break through the interdiction field.

Skirata listened to it all, and when Vau was done he said, "That's crazy. That's absolutely nuts."

"You're damn right it is. The one good thing is, it's so nuts Grant'll never expect it."

"There's got to be another way to get our boys off that destroyer. We can't go charging in, no matter what Uthan cooks up. It's a shabla destroyer and we're half strength."

"Well, about that." Vau allowed a rare smile; it made him look even more vicious. "Jaing's been making some calls. He says we've got backup, less than an hour out."

"Backup? From where?"

"Mandalore, di'kut, where do you think?"

"Mandalore?" Skirata's mind reeled. "You mean Levet and Sull and-"

"And Bralor's kids and a couple more. Our boys aren't the only clones who want to live real lives."

"And they're coming here? Are you sure they're not followed? There's still Death Watch and the Imps and-"

"I hear they cut a deal with Shysa to get off-planet without the Imps knowing. Don't ask, I don't know. Maybe they'll explain it when they get here."

Stupid hope was bubbling up and he tried to shove it into a hole where it belonged. "Even another boat full of Mandos can't take out an entire Imp fleet."

"I know, and if it gets too hairy we cut and run once we get our boys. Altis and Syne can fend for themselves."

A day ago he would have felt guilty about abandoning Altis, probably the only Jedi he'd ever met whom he'd actually liked, who actually seemed to give a damn about people instead of rules and dogma and Sith bogeymen.

Now it was different. Vau was right, but he was also wrong. Skirata had gone soft, and laid himself open to the pain of losing his sons, but same pain renewed his deter-mination.

"Okay," Skirata said. "Fine. Let's get our boys back."

Vau nodded and got to his feet. He held a hand down but Skirata shook it off. He braced his hands against the cupboard and pushed himself up. He stood on wobbly legs for a moment, then followed Vau to the door.

When it slid open, Skirata stepped into a crowded hallway, and every eye was on him. Ordo, Mereel, and Jaing stood along one wall. Laseema stood with Besany's arm around her shoulders and Fi's hand placed gently on her arm. Corr had one arm resting in sling but a soft smile on his face

Ny and Ruusaan were conscpicous in their absence. They'd finally seen him at his worst and he might have scared them off forever, just when it felt like he'd put together a real family instead of a shelter for wayward clones.

Right in front was Jusik, Bard'ika, with deep pain in his eyes and an apology on his lips.

"It's okay," Skirata cut him off. "It's okay, son."

He fell into Jusik's arms. His face pressed against the younger man's shoulder and it stung his fresh wounds. They all gathered around him, touched his shoulders, his hair, his neck. He even felt Lord Mirdalan snake its long body through the crowd and brush his legs.

When he disengaged from Jusik he found himself facing Ordo. His put his hands on his first son's shoulders and said, "We've got one more mission to do."

"I know, buir."

"It's going to be hard. We could lose more."

"It's okay, buir." Ordo reached up and gently laid a hand on his father's face, careful not to touch the darkening bruises. "We're getting everybody home."

Everybody still left, Skirata thought as tears stung his bruised cheeks.

Everybody left.