"An entire week?" asked the Huntress, watching the Mandalorians lay out their dead. It was only three, crushed under the rubble of the collapsed towers, but the wounded numbered almost a dozen.

"At least. That's when the construction was happening. I think that would have been the best time to sneak in and hide explosive charges all over the place, but it could have been earlier."

The Huntress pulled off her black tricorn and fanned the dust away from her face. "So, even the greatest warriors in the galaxy are capable of becoming complacent."

"They won't be caught sleeping twice," said the Officer, pulling off her helmet and touching the scar on her left cheek. "They don't take failure lightly and I would hate to see what they do to the people responsible for this."

"Bikes, hold tight. Hopefully, the Mandos can keep the fire off of us."

Boot thought about letting their covering fire fade away, so the speeder bikes could be blasted apart by the turret, but he knew Mandalore would never forgive him for that.

But it was tempting.

"We can't keep the fire up and land at the same time," he told the Blood's Field Commander.

However, as if the Hunt suddenly favored them, the turret on top of the ship suddenly began spinning uncontrollably, before the glass dome was blasted apart from the inside and thick black smoke began to pour out.

"Waste no time. Move in," said Boot, swerving his jetpack to land on top of the ship, along with the other three Mandalorian warriors.

The Field Commander also wasted no time issuing orders. "There is no hope of stopping that ship from the outside. Bikes, move to flank but give it a wide berth. Transports, that dome will be our breach point."

As the Mandalorians attached themselves to the surface with their magnetized boots, the speeder bikes inverted their V-formation, moving the rear vehicles forward to flank their target.

Meanwhile, the old mass-transit transports swept up to the sides and prepared to drop off their cargo, a dozen Blood Battalion infiltrators.

But Boot could sense that something was wrong. The hull was too thick for a thermal scan and the turret still read as blazing hot from the explosion, but as he looked deeper into the thick smoke he could see a hooded figure in a black mask still sitting at the controls.

"Aero, now!" he called out. The other three warriors followed without question, launching themselves off the speeder just in time to see the turret swivel and blast one of the troop transports at point-blank range.

All four Mandalorians gently floated to the ground. Boot hadn't even received one scratch on his crimson Beskar plating, but the Bloods were another story.

One transport flew away in a massive fireball, while the swerved away from the active turret, trying to hold itself together while under enemy fire. All the while, one of the speeder bikes was crushed by the falling transport while the others broke off the chase.

All in all, it was a catastrophe, but he had to give some credit. The remaining transport got away safely and the bikes quickly swerved to help their fallen comrades.

"Should we assist the Bloods?"

"No. We have our own dead to attend to," Boot said, vividly picturing the masked figure in his mind, the young smuggler. "But that doesn't mean we're giving up the chase."