Events playing out on Bastion were drawing the attention of the whole galaxy, and Darth Kroan was hardly out of place in stopping his normal routine to watch, even if he knew more of what lay behind the events than nearly anyone. According to Darth Wyyrlok, Sith agents had been placed in Ravelin and were in position to hunt down an eliminate any Jedi Veers' soldiers failed to take. They'd been ordered to hide their presence from the Imperials whenever possible; the more ignorant Veers was of the nature of his partnership the less likely the Jedi would be to trace things back to the Sith.

In the midst of that good news, Kroan got a hail promising even more. He slipped away to his private office and open the comm line to see Gevern Auchs' masked face staring back at him.

"Well?" he asked. "Did your trap work?"

"It did. We captured the two Skiratas who were looking into our mission."

"Was the woman with them?"

"We have her."

"And Arlen Fel?"

"No sign of him. We've locked down their ship and are searching it now. No ship matching Fel's is at this port. I don't think he's on the planet."

Quite likely he was racing back to Bastion to save his sons. The question was whether he'd be bringing anything back from Broken Moon. "Where do you have the Skiratas now?"

"I've taken them back to my ship. I'll interrogate them and get everything they know."

"And kill them?"

"That was the plan. Unless you want them."

"The woman can be useful. Keep her alive. The man-" He waved a hand, dismissive.

"You want Tamar Skirata packaged for you?"

"Yes. I don't care about her condition so long as she's still breathing when I get her. Alive she's a hostage we can use against Arlen Fel. Dead she's not."

"I understand," Auchs grunted. "It'll be done. Where and when do you want to rendezvous?"

He thought a moment. Events in Imperial space were still unpredictable. He wanted the Skirata woman alive for interrogation, as Auchs had promised her all those years back in Senex-Juvex. Her escape had started the end of everything. He and Auchs both knew that; it was the only real time his Mandalorians had failed their service to the One Sith.

Kroan could contact Darth Wyyrlok and have her send an agent to meet Auchs. Some things, though, were best done yourself.

"Can you be at the last planet in the Exodeen system in exactly forty hours?"

"Done."

"Then I will see you then, Mand'alor. I expect to get what I'm promised this time."

Auchs simply nodded. He knew what Kroan was, what he was capable of, just as Kroan knew Auchs. The Sith Lord closed the link, pondered a second, then brought up the latest news from Imperial space to see how Veers' siege was going.

-{}-

Once they knew they were no longer being pursued, once they were close to safe, Marin and Ninet found an empty building in the spaceport to hide, catch their breath, and figure out what to do next. All they had between them was one pistol, a beskar knife, and a lightsaber. Their goal was simple but so difficult: rescue their parents and get the hell off this planet.

The landing pit wasn't big, nor was it well-guarded. With a pair of ragged, heavy cloaks thrown over them no one spared either girl a second glance. They went back to Harm's Way first and were unsurprised to find one Mandalorian standing guard at the base of a landing ramp that must have been forced open. Marin wasn't positive, but she thought she sensed more people inside the ship, surely ransacking it for useful information. Their copy of the recording from Sherev'ath was aboard that ship and Auchs' people might have already found it. The only remaining copy was with her father, and she hoped he'd passed it on to her uncle by now.

Hidden behind a pile of emptied equipment crates, Marin kept watch on Harm's Way while Ninet slipped back to find Auchs' ship. Marin didn't know what to look for, but her cousin did; after less than ten minutes the Mandalorian girl came back next to her and said, "I found their ship."

"What about our parents?"

"I found them too."

Marin ducked beneath the crates and asked Ninet, "Did you see them get taken inside?"

"I did. Auchs and Galaset went in, plus Salvoc. Two more patrolling the outside of the landing pad. Can you get us past them?"

Desperation and need were plain on Ninet's face. Mandos might not have kept high opinions on Jedi, but with her father captured she needed something to believe in.

"I can try," Marin whispered. "We need to get to the landing zone. Scout around."

"Right. Let's get going."

"Your ship-"

Ninet clasped her arm. "Can't do anything about that now. We need our parents back."

There was no arguing that. Marin followed her cousin through the dark and dirty corridors that connected the docking pads. When they passed the cracked-opened gate to an empty lading pad Marin grabbed Ninet's arm and dragged her through the gap.

"We're going the wrong way," the Mandalorian girl scowled. "What are you doing?"

Marin scanned the empty space and spotted a collection of storage crates piled high in the far corner. "Come on. Let's get up higher."

Ninet took her meaning instantly. The girls tossed off their awkward robes and clambered up the crates, Marin first. When she reached the top one it was still a hop of more than two meters to the top of the wall surrounding the landing pit. Compared to knocking over part of a building, she thought, this would be easy.

She drew on the Force for just a moment as she kicked off from the top crate. Then she was in the air, and then her boots slammed on hard surface, and when she looked back Ninet was staring up at her and trying not to look impressed.

"Need a boost?" Marin asked.

"Please."

"Jump. I'll lift you." She'd done with trick with Vitor enough times.

Ninet had strong legs, and even with heavy armor on she was able to jump halfway to the edge of the roof. Marin grabbed with her mind and carried her the rest of the way. Ninet's gloved hands grabbed the edge and she pulled herself up from there.

The Mando girl stood up and scanned the landing zones. From here, atop the walls, they could move quickly from one landing pit to another. Marin asked, "Do you know which way?"

"Over there." Ninet pointed. "Three berths over, should be. Let's go. And keep low."

Ninet dropped into a running crouch, back low, torso almost parallel with the rooftop, blaster in one hand and knife in the other. Marin followed behind her with lightsaber in hand.

When they reached the rim of the right landing pit they fell down onto their stomachs and scanned the area. Auchs' ship wasn't much bigger than Harm's Way or Starlight Champion but it looked newer, sleeker, with an oval shape and four rotating directional thrusters for fast take-offs and landings.

As Ninet had promised, two Mandos walked slow circles around the ship. There looked to be an entry ramp extending from the bottom of the ship but at least one of the guards had it in visual range the whole time. Ninet explained that most Mando helmets had three-hundred-sixty-degree sensors, so even with their backs turned they might still spot two girls trying to sneak aboard. There was no way of knowing what internal security Auchs' ship might have too.

"I wonder why they haven't taken off yet," Marin whispered.

"Still got guys at Harm's Way searching the ship," Ninet reminded. "They've probably got people out looking for me, too. Tying up loose ends."

"How many do you think there are, total?"

"A ship that size could fit thirty commandos, but I don't think Auchs brought that many. Counting him and Salvoc there were only six in the warehouse. Maybe two more to search our ship. Two more to guard."

"That few?"

"I don't think Auchs plans to advertise his side trip to Chorax. He's going to want to end this quietly, probably so nobody can trace our parents' deaths to him."

"You're sure they're in there?"

"I saw them dragged in with my shabla eyes," Ninet hissed.

"Right." Marin breathed out and closed her own. She tried to sense her mother. Their connection had never been easy and natural like it had been with her father, but all it took was a little effort this time. She sensed anger and she sensed pain; she sensed a desire to hurt so raw and visceral it sent shudders through her body. All of that was coming from Tamar Skirata, without a doubt.

"You can feel them, right?" asked Ninet.

Marin nodded. "We need to get in. But those guards-"

"You think you can take one with your lightsaber?"

Marin swallowed. Ninet might have been a hard Mando warrior, a killer at fourteen, but she was not. She said honestly, "I wouldn't count on it. Can you take out another guy in beskar with your knife and pistol? All before they call for help?"

Ninet scowled and shook her head. "We need to get the shab inside somehow."

Marin looked around and spotted at a medium-sized repulsorlift dolly hovering unused at the far side of the landing pit, near the gate. When she squinted she could just barely make out the arrangement of the simple control panel.

"You see that cargo dolly?" she whispered.

"Yeah. What do you think you can do with it?"

"Distraction, maybe."

She looked back at Auchs' ship. From the look of it, it was designed for fast deployment in any environment, so she wasn't surprised to spot the oval frame of a secondary airlock on the ship's dorsal side, near the aft.

"Can you get us over there?" Ninet had the same idea. "Unseen?"

"That's what the dolly's for. Get ready."

There was no time to second-guess whether she could do this. She could feel her mother inside that ship still: pain and hate and anger all ready to burst. She stared at the repulsor dolly, stared at its control panel, reached with invisible hands across that distance until she could almost feel the hard grip of its control stick.

She grabbed it with her mind and pushed it forward. The dolly jerked too, as fast as its low-grade repulsorlifts would allow, and careened without warning right into the lowered security gate. It plowed through and kept going for two more seconds until it smashed into the corridor wall. The repulsors died and it came crashing down to the ground.

The guards both went for it at the same time. Marin stood up and grabbed Ninet by the wrist. The two girls surged forward and jumped past the edge.

-{}-

The next blow was less a slap than a punch. The knuckles of Gevern Auchs' half-closed first slammed into Tamar's cheek and scraped across the front of her jaw, tearing the soft skin of her lower lip. Pain shot across half her face, erasing all other feeling. When she scraped her tongue across her mouth she felt nothing but tasted fresh blood.

Auchs stepped away and began another slow loop around the two prisoners bound to their chairs in the empty storage chamber. Galaset and Salvoc stood against the wall, faces unreadable behind their helmets, but Galaset had a long beskad sword dangling from his belt.

"Once my men find your brat we'll take off," Auchs said. "Shouldn't be long now."

"Just kill us and get it over with, chakaar," Dorn grunted.

"Why? Do you think I'm some kind of sadist, Skirata?"

"Could have fooled me," Tamar tried to say, but between the residual effects of the drug and the half of her face still numb with pain it came out all slurred.

"You're one to talk, dar'manda jeti," Auchs waved a finger. "You should have stuck to what you were doing, chasing bounties on osikla planets. Better yet you should have stayed with the jeti on Bastion. Then Veers could round you up with the rest."

She lifted her head and tried to blink her eyes into focus. "What…. What happened?"

"It's going on right now, actually. Lockdown of the Jedi academy. Charges of treason leveled against Admiral Fel and your jeti cyar'ika. Collusion with the Kaleesh. Accessories to the murder of Neela Avaris."

"You ever get sick of spewing osik?" asked Dorn.

Auchs reared back and kicked him in the stomach. Dorn's chair was bolted down; otherwise he could have tipped over. They'd had their beskar stripped off before being strapped to these chairs and there was nothing to stop the blow. Auchs' boots cracked ribs and pumped the air out of him. Dorn keeled over as far as his bonds allowed, gasping for breath and retching from pain.

"You damn Skiratas," Auchs shook his head. "Always shabla trouble since the days of Palpatine. A refuge for jeti and clones and any other freaks you could dredge up. I would have been perfectly happy to ignore you barves but no, you never know your place so you couldn't stop meddling in real Mando business."

"At least we don't sell ourselves to the Sith for twenty years," Tamar rasped.

Auchs froze. Slowly, he turned to look at her. When he spoke his voice was as hard as his faceless mask. "We're feared and respected today like we haven't been for centuries. I did that, dar'manda jeti. Me. I've got a planet full of loyal men back home. They'll make sure nobody knows what happened to you. The rest of your mir'osik half-jeti clan might think I had a hand but they'll never prove it. If they even try some blood vendetta we will wipe them out, every single one."

Auchs looked at Galaset and held out his hand. The other warrior stepped forward without a word and placed the long beskad sword in his palm.

Dorn had picked up his head by now. He and Tamar both watched the Mand'alor step between them, holding the sword upright, as though measuring the weight of the blade. She couldn't glean much from him in the Force- she never could- but his intent felt even more hard and cold than before. It felt lethal.

And she knew, dead knew, that at least one of them wasn't leaving this chamber alive.

"My men will be back from your ship soon," Auchs said, almost conversationally. "They've searched through your data files. Found a really interesting recording you must have picked up at Broken Moon. Stupid of us, using that base. Should have figured that little Twi'lek dal'ika had more going on than some nice blue curves. But we'll deal with her later."

The beskad swiped out in a flash. Its point stopped inches from Tamar's eyes. A little longer reach, a little less control, and she'd be dead.

Very softly, she breathed, "Show off."

Auchs shifted the blade away. Its sharp edge rested on Dorn's shoulder. Tamar's cousin looked straight ahead, refusing give Auchs the satisfaction of fear in his eyes.

The Mand'alor turned his helmet back to her. "Now you're going to tell me a few things. Or you'll watch him die. Don't tell me I'm lying, dar'manda jeti. You know better."

She did. She could sense his lethal intent in the Force; not just his willingness to kill Dorn, but his determination to do so. He'd killed her cousin whether she talked or not but he wanted her alive: to suffer, to talk.

And she felt something else too, something she hadn't expected to feel. She felt her daughter somehow, not far away. Marin was telling her to stay calm, stay strong, and get ready.

"First question," Auchs said. "How many more copies of that little recording are there?"

She had to stall. "I don't know. By now there's got to be hundreds."

Auchs pulled the beskad's tip from Dorn's neck, then jabbed the point into his right pectoral. Blood welled to stain his dark suit and he bit his lip hard to keep from screaming.

"Don't be cute," Auchs warned. "Let's try this. Who else went with you to Broken Moon? Don't say nobody."

She could feel Marin telling her to hold on it, she was almost there. Tamar swallowed. "Arlen Fel."

"And let's assume Fel is on his way back to Imperial space to save his dear buir from the nasty stormtroopers. How long ago exactly did he leave Broken Moon?" A rare hint of amusement crept into his voice. "I'll give you a minute to think. I want to make sure you get it right."

-{}-

Marin knew her mother was on the opposite side of the doors; she could feel Tamar and feel Tamar press back. Auchs was there too, and probably a couple other Mandos. Ninet had just confirmed that her father had released that agonized scream a moment ago.

For the Mando girl, anger trumped fear. She moved smoothly and steadily to place direction charges at the corners to the door. She'd kept them in a pouch on her belt, for emergencies she'd said, of which this clearly qualified. As soon as all four were secure she skirted back down the hall, dragging Marin with her.

"Far enough," Ninet said and dug her heels into the deck.

"You sure?"

She hesitated. "Can you block the blast with the Force?"

"I can try."

"Good enough. Got your saber?"

Marin switched it and tried to keep her hands from shaking. She reached out to her mother and tried to tell her they were coming, now.

Ninet raised the charges' small detonator so Marin could see it and thumbed the trigger. Marin raised a wall of resistance in the Force; the charges blew the door inward but kicked a wave of hot air back down the hall. Marin softened it with best she could but smoke and ash followed, choking her and obscuring their vision.

Ninet charged anyway. Marin ran right after her, gold saber bobbing ahead. Lasers lit up the smoke ahead. Marin summoned a wave of Force energy to clear the air. She saw Tamar and Dorn bound in their chairs, she saw Ninet throwing herself at Salvoc while Galaset scrambled to take cover behind Dorn and pulled his rifle off his back.

And she saw Gevern Auchs, long-blade beskad sword in hand, next to her mother. He looked at her, looked down at Tamar; then she felt a flash of rage from him, saw him lift his sword over the woman strapped helpless to the chair.

Marin leaped. Galaset released a round of lasers in her direction that barely registered in time to duck low, roll beneath them, and come up in the space between Tamar's chair and Auchs' legs.

She came up, swinging wildly. Her blade cut too close to block the fall of his sword. Instead it burned through his elbows like they were nothing and kept going. Auchs' body tipped forward and momentum carried the rest; her gold blade slipped above his beskar shoulder-plates, beneath the bottom rim of his helmet, and cut neatly through his neck.

Pieces of him clattered to the floor: sword, hands, head. The Mandalore's body, slack and heavy, fell forward. She jumped away and let it fall hard and loud onto the deck.

And for a moment, everyone stopped and stared.

-{}-

Tamar moved first. Marin was more shocked than anyone; her mother Force-plucked her lightsaber from her weak grip and flung it into her own hands. A flick of the wrists cut her arms from the chair-back; with hands free it was another two quick thrusts to free her feet.

By then everyone had started moving except Marin, still shocked stiff by what she'd done. Tamar grabbed her daughter and, gently as possible, threw her to the far wall. Ninet had pinned Salvoc to the ground and stuck her knife into his chest but the older Mando fumbled for his pistol and fired two bursts into the girl's stomach.

Tamar called on the Force again and pulled Ninet away. She spun toward Dorn, deflecting laser-blasts from Galaset with her daughter's lightsaber. She wielded a Jedi weapon like a Mando: fast, fierce, fueled by anger instead of inner peace. When she got close enough she sheared off the barrel of Galaset's gun. The Kerestian jumped back and reached for another weapon but Tamar jumped over Dorn's head and delivered a fast kick right into Galaset's helmet, snapping his neck back, but that wouldn't be enough. She came down behind Dorn's chair and dipped Marin's saber back, carefully cutting her cousin's hands free of his bonds.

Galaset was coming up again, this time with another blaster. He got off two shots before Tamar was on him; she deflected his shots, got in close, and carefully cut his gun-hand off at the wrist. The Kerestian howled in pain but stood on his feet. Tamar was so tempted to run him through with Marin's saber but a small part of her spoke through the blood-fever: if she could get him alive she could use him.

She used the Force to pin him to the wall and wrench his helmet off. His brown, jowled alien face growled at her.

"Do it, shabla dar'manda jeti!" he said, "Kill me!"

A blue stun blast sizzled over Tamar's shoulder and caught Galaset in the exposed face. He dropped. She turned around and saw Dorn, still bound by the ankles to his chair, grasping a blaster pistol with both hands as he sprawled awkwardly across the floor. He didn't say anything; she didn't thank him. She moved quickly and cut his legs free. He immediately crawled to Ninet, who lay on the deck face-up next to Salvoc. She, at least, was breathing, but one of those close-range blasts had slipped between her beskar plates. She smelled of scorched fabric and scorched flesh.

"We can't move her," Dorn said, voice shaking as he felt his daughter's pulse.

Tamar spun on her daughter, now pressed against the side wall, staring at the body of the man she'd killed. "Marin!" she snapped. "See if this ship has a medical bay! Now!"

The girl nodded and started for the door just as they heard feet pounding down the corridor. There was no time to hesitate; Tamar charged ahead first and Dorn was right behind her. Two more Mandos, probably the guards outside, had rushed into the ship on hearing the sound of battle. Tamar let adrenaline and anger carry her further; she batted back laser-blasts from the surprised commandos until she got close enough to spear one through the stomach. He grunted and keeled forward; the second popped off a shot that winged Tamar in the shoulder, forcing her back a step and sending pain through her left arm.

Dorn was right behind her, and he'd scooped up Auchs' beskad on the way. He pushed past his cousin and fell on the remaining Mando. Hard metal slipped through fabric and skin and organs, spilling blood and ending the brawl fast.

"Get to the cockpit!" Tamar grimaced. "See if we can take off!"

Dorn pressed ahead. Tamar didn't hear any more battle-sounds so she lurched after him. By the time she got to the cockpit Dorn was already in the pilot's seat running hands over the controls, starting systems, warming up engines and weapons.

"Looks pretty standard for this model," Dorn commented. "Probably not Auchs' personal ship."

"I bet he didn't want to be noticed," Tamar wheezed. She'd spent close to twenty years hating that man. Now that he was gone- the way he'd gone- she had no idea what to feel. None of this seemed real.

Marin popped into the cockpit. "I found a medical bay! Looks full-service!"

"Then let's get out of here," Dorn said, and kicked in the thrusters. They jumped into the air so fast Tamar and her daughter were nearly thrown into each other.

"What about your ship?" Marin yelped. "Auchs still has people there!"

"No choice, then," Dorn gritted his teeth. "I really liked that ship too."

"Wait, what are you-"

Marin was thrown at a bulkhead again as Dorn swooped them low over the honeycomb structure of the landing pits. They could see Harm's Way resting where they'd left it, with two little forms scampering around it. They looked like toy figures in their armor as they pointed up at their Mand'alor's ship in confusion.

Tamar found the weapon controls. Guns were already hot. She aimed, stabbed the button, and sent a chain of five laser blasts that turned the landing pit and everything it- ships, people- into a ball of flame.

Tamar knew he'd been fond of Harm's Way, but Dorn didn't spare another glance at his ship's pyre. She spun them toward the sky and punched them away from the planet. They hadn't stopped bouncing through the atmosphere when he pushed out of the pilot's seat, shoved Tamar down in his place, and went back for his daughter.

-{}-

They'd safely jumped to hyperspace by the time Marin finally started to get a grasp on everything. Ninet was hurt. She was in the medical bay, sedated and being looked over by her father and the onboard med-droid, which had said she'd probably be okay.

They had a prisoner aboard, one of Gevern Auchs' most trusted lieutenants, the one they'd seen in the holo-record Sherev'ath had given to them. They had the bodies of four more warriors, all dead.

The fifth corpse belonged to the Mand'alor himself. Marin had killed him; without wanting to, without even trying. She'd simply jumped in to save her mother and swung her saber, desperate, unthinking. It has cleaved through flesh and bone with no effort at all. Murder shouldn't have been so easy.

A couple hours after leaving Chorax, Marin went to the medical bay and politely asked the droid if she could talk to Ninet. To her slight surprise, the droid had waved her forward. Marin's cousin was out of her armor, strapped to a bed with tubes in her arms and a white blanket up to her armpits, covering the place where she'd been shot. Her face was pale. She stared at the ceiling and breathed slowly, steadily.

Marin stopped beside the bed. "Hey."

Ninet rolled her head to see her. "Droid says I'll be okay."

"How do you feel?"

"Like absolute osik. But it's better than the alternative."

"Right. Um, I'm glad you'll be fine." She looked down at her hands, uncertain what else to say.

Ninet said, "My buir told me what you did. You killed Gevern Auchs."

"Yeah. It, um…. It just sort of happened."

"That's good. You did good. The shabuire deserved it. All he's done."

"Yeah. I, um..." She swallowed; her mouth felt so dry. "That time you told me about. When you were at that, um, safehouse or whatever. When you killed that guy to save your dad… Did you feel okay after that?"

Ninet smiled tiredly, sadly. "That was a lie."

"What?"

"Sorry. I was trying to make you think I had hard shebs."

"So it never happened?"

"I froze up. My uncle Kragal, he took the shot. Saved my buir. Called myself a hutuun for a long time after that." She dropped her eyes and added, "I never killed anyone until today."

They both stared down like they were lost in thought; Marin was still too stunned, to exhausted, to think anything clearly. She fumbled to say, "Are you okay? About… what you did?"

She placed a hand on her side. "Salvoc almost killed me. Only fair I kill him, right? And Auchs, he'd have killed you. Without a doubt."

"Yeah. I get that. It's just…. I don't know." She wanted to say I'm a Jedi, it's not supposed to be like this, but even in her head it sounded like the whine of a pathetic child. "You probably need your rest."

"That's what the droid says." She reached out and grabbed Marin by the wrist. "You know where to find me."

"Thanks," Marin smiled weakly and pulled away.

She felt a little relief to slip out into the hallway; that disappeared when she saw her mother standing there, arms crossed, five steps away and close enough to have heard everything.

Neither of them moved nearer. Neither knew what to say. In the rush to escape Chorax they'd worked together but once things had gone quiet they'd avoided each other. Tamar had secured the prisoner and moved the bodies. Marin had taken stock of everything in this new ship. Now space and silence yawned between them.

"I've had a chance to look at the news-nets," Tamar said. "Things are happening on Bastion."

Marin stiffened. "What things?"

"Head of State Veers has declared the Jedi outlaws. He's laid siege to the academy. He's declared your uncle a criminal too, but it doesn't sound like he'd been arrested yet. I don't know anything about your cousins or grandmother. Or Arlen. I'm sorry."

Marin stepped closer. "Is it a war?"

"They haven't started shooting yet. But it's probably only a matter of time."

The whole galaxy had turned upside-down. She hugged herself and still felt chilled. "What do we do now?"

"I don't know. Dorn and I are going to have a chat with Galaset in a few minutes."

Chat. Interrogation. Torture. It was all too much. She wanted to go back to the Jedi academy, to her father and grandmother, to Vitor and Roan and her other friends, where everything was calm and safe and secure, but even that refuge was gone. She'd been expelled from it all before she knew it, cast into a life where there was only desperation and cruelty and killing.

When she started trembling Tamar's arms appeared around her. She lost strength in her legs and pitched forward. Her mother supported her. She reached up and placed a hand on the back of her head, stroked it, ran fingers through her hair.

Tamar wrapped her other arm around her shoulders, squeezed her tight, and said, "It's okay. Do what you have to. I'm not going anywhere."

Soft words and firm embrace, after all this. Marin rested her face against her mother's chest and allowed herself to cry.