"Why do you hate the Mandalorians, Master?"
The question took Ulasac by surprise, prompting him to look at his companion, the bearded Kiffar Kit-Sun Wolfgana. The Jedi knight looked quizzically at him, head tilted slightly so that his long black hair spilled over one shoulder. He sat across the dining table from Ulasac, a steaming cup of tea resting untouched before him.
"A Jedi does not hate." The Twi'lek's response was immediate and entirely reflexive.
Kit-Sun lifted his teacup, took a moment to breathe in the aromatic steam rising from it, then sipped carefully. Setting it back down on the table, he said, "You have. Ever since Jomel—"
"Must I hate a murderer to pursue him? To pursue justice?" Ulasac demanded, snarling through pointed teeth. Then, aware how he must have looked, the Jedi Master composed himself, his green skin flushing with embarrassment as his cheeks burned.
To his credit, Kit-Sun remained impassive, stirring his tea. "Grief is just as much an attachment as an airspeeder or credits, Master. Until you let it go, the only thing you pursue is revenge. And I pity those innocents that get in your way."
###
The wrist rocket spiraled wildly off course from the Padawan, bringing down pieces of the canyon wall as it detonated, and Buruk brought his blaster rifle to bear on the distracted Jedi, squeezing the trigger. The Padawan, a Zabrak girl in her mid-teens, leaped forward as the staccato stutter of blaster bolts echoed through the enormous underground chamber, deflecting them away from her master.
Of course it wouldn't be easy, Buruk grumbled silently, firing his jetpack and triggering his flamethrower as he retreated. Zabth, his Jedi target, was a resourceful one, all right; he whipped off his cloak, throwing it between them and the gout of fire, and pulled the girl aside with a Force-assisted leap in the split second it took to ignite the heavy fabric.
So far, the Jedi Master did exactly what Buruk expected him to do: protect the Padawan, even if it meant leaving himself open. Alighting on a nearby ledge, the Mandalorian stitched his landing spot with blasterfire. Zabth swatted it right back at him and Buruk threw himself from his temporary perch.
A single bolt impacted his chest plate, drawing a wheeze from him and spinning him through the air. A quick burst from his jetpack made sure Buruk landed on solid ground, however. Pulling himself to his feet, he saw the two Jedi splitting up, bounding from ledge to ledge across the canyon toward him. Trying to make me choose one or the other, he snorted derisively, reloading a wrist-rocket. Fine.
He crouched down and slapped the sides of his knees, launching a quartet of tiny rocket darts in the Padawan's direction. More projectiles would mean more for Zabth to focus on. They burst around the Zabrak girl, four blasts that tore the rock from under her. Her master halted his advance, reaching out to her; she froze in mid plummet and Buruk could see the strain on the Jedi's face.
With his attention drawn away from the Mandalorian, Buruk took cover behind one of the ornate statues—just in case Zabth was putting him on—and fired his wrist-rocket. The Jedi hurled his Padawan onto solid ground, somersaulted over the incoming projectile, and rushed forward.
Slashing with his lightsaber, he cleaved through the statue's base, then used the Force to push it on top of the Mandalorian. Buruk tumbled out of the way barely in time to avoid being crushed, ending up on his back looking up at the Jedi. Without hesitating, Zabth pivoted, sidestepped, and thrust the tip of his lightsaber into Buruk's chest plate.
###
"Osi'kyr!" Qate demanded as the ear-splitting siren wailed through the controlled substances room, echoing down the hallway.
"They must have equipped the room with a bioscanner," Maalku supplied, anything but helpfully. "And seeing as how we're covered from head to toe in bio-hazardous residue from out little jaunt up the incinerator chute…" He let the explanation hang there, a conclusion unnecessary.
"Haar'chak," she growled, jabbing her security blade into the mechanism of the nearest locker. There was no time for subtlety now, they had to get the meds they came for and get out fast.
With a little muscle, she jimmied the locker open and began tossing boxes of drugs at the Gand, not even bothering to read the labels; they'd sort them out later. "Take everything you can carry," she snapped. Maalku stuffed them into the bag he'd brought, as well of several of the pouches on his gun belt until they bulged.
"Give me a boost," Qate said, similarly loaded down. She climbed up on the Gand's shoulders and set to work on the grate in the ceiling, prying it loose with the security blade. Once it was free, she replaced it at a slightly off angle and climbed down. "Okay, come on," she said, shouldering her bag. Police would be converging on the hospital soon and she hoped they'd be taken by the ruse and waste their time trying to find them in the ventilation ducts. Hopefully then they wouldn't think to cordon off the incinerators.
Qate led the way down the corridor back toward the turbolift. Turning a corner, she skidded to a halt with Maalku bumping into her from behind. "Freeze!" a guard shouted, drawing his blaster. They ducked back around the corner before a snapshot kicked sparks and masonry into the air. "Can't go that way," she breathed, shoving the Gand back up the hall.
They broke into a run, boot heels pounding against the ceramic tile flooring. By now the guard would have called in their location and more would be on their way up to cut them off. Qate knew they'd be eager to catch them before the police could arrive; saving face was always high up on the rent-a-cop's priority list.
For a moment her thoughts drifted back to the kidnapping job that had landed her and Buruk together for the first time. Now here she was, making the same shabla mistakes like some di'kutla nibral.
As if reading her thoughts, Maalku buzzed behind her, "I hope that Tortoise is faring better than we are."
###
Zabth was distantly aware that his surprise registered on his face. There he stood over his fallen opponent, having driven the tip of his lightsaber into the attacker's chest armor, and it hadn't penetrated even a centimeter. Impossible! his mind shouted at him, even as he leapt away, bringing his weapon back up to a defensive posture. Very few materials in the known galaxy could stand up to a lightsaber blade, and it was even rarer to encounter suits of armor fashioned from them. Perhaps this mysterious assassin was a Mandalorian after all.
Whatever he was, he was back on his feet, pressing forward as he triggered his flamethrower again.
Zabth called on the Force, launching himself into the air before the fiery tongue spitting forth could envelop him. His attacker tracked him with the flame, painting the cavern with a bright orange glow. Absently, the Jedi admired the subtle contrast it made with the bluish haze suffusing the chamber from the various crystal-bearing statues as he flipped onto an empty balcony.
Sarule he could feel approaching, leaping from one stone bridge to another through the underground canyon, making her way around behind the armored warrior. Suddenly, her orange blade appeared with a snap-hiss as it sliced neatly through the hose feeding the Mandalorian's gauntlet. The column of fire abruptly died as pale fuel poured from the severed tube.
The Mandalorian spun as she swept her blade at him again, raising the now useless gauntlet to parry her blow. Sparks showered as energy blade contacted metal. He grabbed her wrist to take control of her weapon hand but she threw him back with the Force. He hit the ground, rolled several paces, and came up in a crouch, drawing the blaster pistols holstered cross draw style at his belt.
To Zabth's dismay, Sarule charged forward. Leaping after her, he drove fear and worry from his mind, calling on the Force to lend him speed.
###
With an effort, Qate kicked in the door to the emergency stairwell. Hospital security had sealed off the turbolifts on their level while the Hanna City Police made their way up the stairs, leaving their only viable avenue for escape the turbolifts on the next floor up.
"Hell of a day," she whispered, listening to the pounding of boots several floors below.
"Agreed," Maalku replied, his vocoder carefully modulated to a lower volume than normal. "Maalku does not like our chances." Then, after a pause, he hazarded, "We would make better time if we ditched the drugs."
"Not on your life," Qate hissed, fighting the urge to mount the stairs two at a time; with his shorter legs, the Gand would surely fall behind if she did. "Ganhuff needs those."
Reaching the next landing up, the Zabrak went to work on the door's locking mechanism with her security blade; as an emergency stairwell, it was normally only accessible under certain circumstances, when the central computer would release its failsafes, and remained locked otherwise. The cacophony of police boots thundered louder as they neared the floor the intruders had been on and Qate estimated they had about thirty seconds before they caught up to them.
Finally, the lock broke and the two thieves bustled through the door, running full tilt for the turbolifts. Qate's breath burned in her chest as she pumped her arms furiously; the police would be right behind them in seconds. At her back, Maalku's own labored breathing could be heard as hisses of static through his breath mask.
They rounded a corner and spotted the turbolifts at the end of the corridor, just past a row of windows the overlooked the picturesque city of Hanna. Below, landspeeders and pedestrians could be seen going about their business, oblivious to the plight of two petty thieves running for their freedom.
Halfway to the lifts, the windows exploded inward, showering them with tiny, smooth-sided safety cubes of transparisteel. Even so, Qate and Maalku ducked reflexively, throwing their arms up over their heads as armored SWAT officers rappelled down through their makeshift entrance. When Qate looked up, she found they were surrounded, staring down the barrels of several primed and ready blaster rifles. Heart aching for Ganhuff, she stood, putting her hands on her head. Maalku did likewise.
###
They were on either side of him now, closing in, and Buruk was running out of options. He backpedaled, still thankful the Padawan hadn't simply thought to lop off his arm when she'd disabled his flamethrower, and fired his blasters.
Zabth batted his shots away easily and the Padawan thrust out her hand; Buruk felt like he'd run full speed into a wall and tumbled backward off the bridge. He fired his whipcord, satisfied that it coiled around her ankle, and dragged her down with him. "Sarule!" he heard Zabth cry.
She screamed as she was dragged over the ledge and Buruk fired. The high-powered blaster bolt struck her in the chest, silencing her. Her body tumbled limply past him as he fired his jetpack, lifting him back up to safety.
###
Zabth stared in shock at the receding form of his Padawan, his heart shattered. He reached out through the Force to touch her but there was nothing; Sarule Narbrea no longer existed. He straightened up from the edge and turned to see her murderer rising up as if from the black pit of Chaos itself to land lightly on his feet several meters away.
He'd failed. Failed to protect her, failed to train her, failed to ensure her the bright future that had been rightly hers. Her death was his doing and guilt rent his spirit asunder. He will pay, he thought, glaring at the armored warrior.
Zabth called on the Force to lash out at the Mandalorian, to sunder him in return. It filled him, flowed through him in a torrent like he'd never felt before. He knew it was stained with the dark side but he didn't care; all that mattered at that moment was that the Mandalorian paid for his crime.
Throwing his head back, the Jedi released a vengeful scream, a battle cry of pure killing intent that reverberated off the surrounding stone, echoing not only through the kilometers-long canyon but also through the Force itself.
The Mandalorian staggered back a step and he fired his wrist-rocket. Zabth used the Force to hurl the missile aside with no more effort than as if he'd been swatting a stingfly, stalking forward toward his enemy. He pushed with the Force, sending a wave crashing against his foe that slammed him against a statue. When he tried firing his jetpack to escape, Zabth caught hold of the device, closing his fingers into a fist, crushing it.
The Mandalorian snatched a grenade from his belt, held it up so the Jedi could see it, and ordered, "That's far enough!"
Zabth snapped bones in the man's forearm, forcing him to drop the explosive. Another twitch of the Force sent the grenade skittering harmlessly over the edge of the bridge. He let a smile curl his lip as the warrior screamed, clutching his injured arm to his chest. Reaching out, he closed invisible fingers around the Mandalorian's windpipe, not to cut off his cries of agony, but to immobilize him. Standing before his enemy, Zabth place the tip of his lightsaber blade between the plates protecting the man's chest and abdomen, and thrust forward.
To his surprise, the Mandalorian possessed enough of his senses to grab the Jedi's wrist, immobilizing his weapon. At the same time, a glint of light in the corner of his eye, accompanied by a subsonic buzz caught Zabth's attention. A humming vibroblade ejected from the gauntlet sheathing the man's broken arm, which he thrust into Zabth's neck.
The Zabrak released his hold on the Mandalorian and his lightsaber, staggering back and clutching at his throat. The wounded warrior sank to his knees, the blade in his guts automatically retracting into the hilt and clattering to the floor. Zabth tried to speak but his words came out as nothing more than a wet gurgle while blackness crept fast into his vision.
###
"Need some help," Buruk's voice had wheezed over the comlink. That was all Lynli had needed to hear to order Morran to fly the ship toward her partner's location on the outskirts of Hanna. In typical fashion, he'd gone out alone on the swoop bike to go Jedi hunting.
They found him lying at the mouth of a cave, his left arm bent at an unnatural angle; rushing forward to see if he was still conscious, Lynli found he also had a hole burned in his stomach, an obvious lightsaber wound. "Sithspawn, are you okay?" she demanded.
"Oh yeah, I'm top 6et'se," he moaned, obviously anything but.
Feeling panic rise up in the form of a lump in her throat, the Twi'lek called up the ramp to his son, who stood staring from the airlock. "Aerek, get a splint!" Then, she and the pilot carried Buruk into the cargo hold where the boy immobilized his father's fractured arm.
"Hospital, now!" she barked at Morran, who's normally slouching posture suddenly went parade ground straight before he turned on his heel and charged up the stairway to the cockpit.
Turning back to Aerek, Lynli softened her voice and said, "Take his buy'ce sweetie, okay?" Aerek nodded and reached up to remove his father's helmet and set it aside.
"Top notch on the field splint, son," Buruk said through gritted teeth, trying to sound warm and fatherly despite the pain in his guts. Aerek forced a smile.
"How do you feel?" Lynli asked seriously, removing his back plate so the body vest could be removed.
"Like I may have torn something open on the way out of the cave," he admitted. "Liver feels like a leaky sieve."
That wasn't good. In fact, Lynli thought that was pretty shabla bad! "Could be worse," she said aloud. She didn't want to scare Aerek any worse than he probably already was; Buruk was the boy's whole life. "Aerek, could you go ask Morran how long until we get to the hospital? I'll finish up with your dad's armor."
When he was gone, Lynli opened Buruk's flightsuit to take a look at the cauterized lightsaber wound. He'd torn it open on one side, all right, and it was slowly bleeding dark venous blood; that was better than she'd feared, at least.
"Where's the doc?" Buruk asked, still gritting his teeth.
"Still restrained his quarters," Lynli answered.
"Qate and Maalku?"
"Breaking into the hospital to steal him some medication."
He cocked an eyebrow at her. "And you're taking me to a crime scene?"
"Do you have any better ideas?" she snapped, swabbing his stomach with disinfectant.
"Nope," he hissed.
###
Hours later, Buruk awoke in a bacta tank, a breath mask fitted snugly over his face so he didn't drown. Even so, he could taste and bitter fluid in the back of his throat, telling him the medics had made him ingest some while he'd been out. He never quite got used to the unpleasant aftertaste, no matter how many times he underwent bacta therapy in his life.
After having his arm placed in a bacta cast, collecting his clothes, and signing his discharge papers, he found Lynli, Morran, and Aerek curled up in seats in the hospital waiting room. He tapped her gently on the shoulder with his good hand. "Hey," he said softly. "I'm back."
Lynli sat up groggily, rubbing sleep from her gold eyes, and yawned. On either side of her, the others stirred. "What'd the doctor say?" she asked, stretching.
"Liver's fine. Arm'll heal in a day or two with the cast on," he answered. As he spoke, Aerek hopped down from his chair and gave him a big, welcoming hug. "Did they ask you any questions?"
Lynli frowned and looked at Morran; Buruk didn't like the way she hesitated. Then she looked guiltily back at him and said, "They wanted to know how you got the burn through your stomach—"
Morran cut her of, dropping his voice low so no one would overhear. "We couldn't tell them it was a lightsaber," he explained. "For obvious reasons. So I did the only thing we could."
Buruk looked at them bewilderedly. "Which was?"
"We told them you were a bounty hunter," Lynli said, but was cut short by the pilot as he took over again.
"I explained that you had caught Ganhuff but he'd shot you with a hand laser he'd had concealed on him."
Buruk's eyebrows shot up as the implication sank in. "They took him?"
She nodded shamefully. "Turned him over to the Judicials based here, along with Qate and Maalku; they're all in Republic custody."
An invisible fist closed around Buruk's heart, like the Force grip Zabth had used on him in the caves. They'd taken his crew. Forcing down the grief, he set his mouth in a grim line and said, "We're getting them back."
###
Ulasac and Kit-Sun didn't even bother to enter the crystal caves. From the mouth, they could sense they were too late, the feelings of anger, hatred, and death swirling about wildly into a palpable miasma that warned them away. Kit-Sun looked down at his boots, feeling his friend quiver in silent fury.
"This is the Council's fault," the Twi'lek hissed. "They're responsible, for all of them."
Kit-Sun returned his gaze to Ulasac, placing a hand on his shoulder. He reached out to touch his friend's mind, to calm him, bring him back to the peace of the Force. "No on is to blame but the one who did the deed," he insisted gently.
Ulasac brushed his hand aside, even as he flung aside the mental influence. "The Council would not act!" he snapped. "They only hindered those of us who would!" His eyes shone with poorly contained anger. "I'm through following in this Mandalorian's wake of violence; we are going to Tarant and we are meeting him head on and I will kill him to avenge Zaruul, Kralo, Zabth, and Jomel."
The knight sighed. He'd been afraid Ulasac would say that. "We will not," he said. "I'm afraid if you insist on doing so, I have no choice but the report your actions to the Council."
"Fine!" the Jedi Master snapped. "Maybe they'll pat you on the head for being a good little dog when you do." He turned and stormed away from his friend, burning with hatred.
Kit-Sun watched him go, shaking his head in dismay.
###
They'd been shackled like animals and herded onto the prison transport bound for Coruscant, along with fifty other passengers and Ganhuff. The doctor had at least been sedated and placed in a straitjacket, more for his own safety than the other prisoners. Qate looked at his still form, buckled into the transport's restraints, and felt a pang of guilt for having failed in her promise to help him; his face seemed peaceful, at least, no longer lost in the feverish dreams that plagued him during his withdrawal.
Beside her, Maalku sat with his three-fingered hands curled in his lap, the translucent membranes closed over his multifaceted eyes. He looked to be at peace too, meditating as always. He'd taken their capture in stride, like everything that happened to them; if he was there, it was because the mists had guided him there. Qate, on the other hand, had to force herself to remain calm. Losing it now would only make things worse.
Around them, the other prisoners—mostly humans, a few Rodians, and one hulking Herglic bound in the same manner as Ganhuff but without the medication—eyed them warily, like hungry predators. Qate returned their stare, injecting enough venom into her gaze to paralyze a rancor.
"A vision…" Maalku buzzed quietly.
She snapped her head around, fixing him with a stare. "What?" she demanded.
"The green tortoise kills the gold tortoise."
###
Buruk's footsteps sounded hollow as he clanged up the boarding ramp into the deserted Cuun'yaim. It felt like a crypt, as if he were entering the ghost ship, the Duska Antilles, all over again; the only difference here was the ample light and the lack of flesh-eating Bando Gora cultists crawling out of the ductwork to tear him limb from limb.
He took a moment to survey the hold while Morran headed up to the cockpit; he could feel Lynli's and Aerek's eyes on him and looked down at his datapad just to avoid their gaze. What he saw made him sigh in dismay. There, in nice black numerals, was his account's credit balance, having just increased by twenty thousand—ten percent of the doctor's bounty. Still a lot of money, but it felt like he'd betrayed the man. Worse, he knew Lynli felt the same way even though she'd only gone along with it to save Buruk from the Judicials.
So, he resolved, they'd go after them. No matter what it took, no matter where the Republic locked them away, Ganhuff, Qate, and Maalku would be freed. He turned to Lynli to tell her as much when the intercom buzzed. "Buruk," Morran called from the cockpit, "got a message for you."
The Mandalorian grimaced, and made his way up from the hold, leaving his Twi'lek partner to seal the ship. "Mulokhai want to know where his squalls are?" he asked, bracing his hands against the cockpit hatchway.
"Don't know," the pilot confessed, swiveling to face him in his command seat. "It's audio; no voice, just a bunch of random bursts of static." He flicked a switch on the control panel and the message played.
To his surprise, Buruk recognized it as a Mandalorian code called dadita. Each series of long and short bursts corresponded to a letter of the Mando alphabet, spelling just six simple words.
I can help you find Kex.
###
This, ladies and gentlemen, will be what I consider the end of Season 2, heralding my sabbatical from updating this story. It will return in the spring, as will you all, I hope.