CHAPTER 48

Revelation

Stinger Mantis – 1 BBY

Zahira Eon's nostrils had a knack for picking up even the slightest smells in the air. It had been a skill she had honed for years; one Master Yoda had insisted she master before even attempting some of the most basic Force defensive powers. A Jedi being able to take in all of their surroundings was the first step in entering a larger world…one she'd done her best to teach to all the young students on Artakha. She'd thought she'd done well thus far, but after spending some time with her mother, she realized that she herself still had much to learn about the Force and all its intricacies.

The strongest Jedi were always willing to learn.

This, of course, was more routine, as it turned out Greez Dritus, the latero pilot, had once again burnt something in his over. Even so, she didn't need her nostrils to see him racing across the central area of the ship as she sat peacefully on his couch, maintaining a perfect meditative posture.

"Oh, gah! Son of a—" Greez cursed, and she heard the oven cover opening. "Forgot to set the timer…ah, come on Greez," he mumbled to himself. "Now, where are those…oh come on…"

"On the counter, to your left," Zahira pointed, detecting the mittens he was searching for not far from him, before shutting her eyes again. "You can't miss them."

Greez let out a silent oh, before sliding them on and chuckling to himself. "You know, I'll never get tired of having Jedi who can do Jedi things on my ship. Super convenient," he said wittily, before setting the half-burnt pan aside and shutting the oven. "Well…some of this might work. You want some, kid?"

Zahira grimaced. "I do hope you are referring to the girl beside me," she looked towards Katara, who was pretending to meditate, but obviously had her mind wandering with a blissful smirk on her face.

"You're all children to me," Greez remarked, making his way down the steps with plates in hand. "You, Cal, Merrin…heck even your older brother."

Zahira rolled her eyes. "By the Force, we're twins…and I came out first."

"Right, right," Greez waved it off, pacing back up the steps and into the kitchen area. "Doesn't really change the point."

"That just means you're old," Katara pointed out, her eyes open and mocking smirk evident.

Greez scoffed. "Yeah, when you get to my age, I know damn sure you won't look this good," he returned, placing the dish on the central table. "Heh, heh. I still got it."

Zahira frowned, noting the splotches of black across the nerf loaf. "I'm vegetarian, Greez."

"Oh, well I'm sorry, your worship, let me just get out my gluten free ingredients. Would you also like the low-carb option? How about I fish out all the yoke in the—" he was interrupted by Katara digging in without any restraint, and scooping some of the tender meat onto her plate. "Puck-puck eggs."

"Mmm," Katara munched, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "This is pretty good. What's your recipe? I'll have to steal it."

"Well, you see, patents, contracts, non-disclosure agreements," Greez swayed his open arms. "Messy business."

Katara was too busy eating to notice his joke, and Zahira did her best to shut her eyes and return to her meditation.

Immediately, she felt a tremor in the Force.

"Something's wrong," she remarked, and then began pacing towards the cockpit on a lark.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" Greez protested, pushing past her leg in a quick movement, and then hobbled into his pilot's chair. "Okay, what is it?"

Zahira kept her eyes shut, probing the Force for its warning…tracing the thread…stretching out her feelings.

Her eyes opened. "Something isn't right. I sense something awaiting us at our destination."

"Could be friendly," Greez shrugged, prepping the ship to exit hyperspace. "Hey kid, strap in!"

"Coming!" Katara called out, sliding around Zahira to take the co-pilot's chair. "Monitors again?"

"Uh, yeah, that's why you're even allow to sit there, kiddo," Greez remarked, securing his grip around the yoke. "Remember, blue good, red bad. Nowadays, it's mostly red. You gonna sit down, your highness?"

Zahira clenched her fist. "Would you please stop calling me that?"

"Only if you take a seat!" he raised a finger, eyes focused forward on the hyperspace tunnel, leaving the woman to merely sigh, and assume the open chair at the sensor station. "There you go."

"You're taking this rather easy with the potential for ambush," Zahira chided him, assuming her duties.

"It'll be fine," Greez waved off, and then pulled back on the hyperspace lever.

Immediately, he had to pull hard to starboard as turbolasers crisscrossed in front of them, ducking behind an Imperial frigate currently being bombarded by orange laser fire.

"What the hell?!" Greez exclaimed, getting ahold of the Mantis' stability as he weaved around each stationary vessel. "You weren't kidding!"

Zahira groaned. "You know, if you spent less time calling me princess and actually listened to me, we might've avoided this!"

"Focus now, criticize later!" Greez protested, and then yelped after he rolled his ship, barely avoiding a scrape against an Imperial hull. Katara was cheering internally, or at least Zahira could sense the girl's excitement at the scene, and it only made her feel more uneasy. Usually their intel was good, and had never stumbled upon an Imperial blockade, let alone one being attacked.

Had the rumored Rebel Alliance finally made their move?

The hailing channel pinged.

"Don't answer that!" Greez insisted, grunting as he pulled the Mantis into another harsh bank. "You got the ID mask working right?"

"Duh," Katara shrugged. "I'm a professional!"

"Yeah, thanks for reminding me," Greez said dryly. "Let's just hope that bucket of bolts scrubbed it properly."

"I'm gonna tell her you said that!" Katara pointed.

"No you're not!" he admonished, pulling the Mantis into a deep dive. Zahira was forced to grasp ahold of the armrests just to keep herself steady as the latero kept yanking and pulling as they weaved around each Imperial warship.

"Uh…I think the Empire got tired of us not responding!" Katara warned. "TIE fighters incoming!"

"Ah, they're not gonna weave their way through a battle just to take out some rinky dink old—" Greez's comment was cut off by a harsh hit to their deflector shields. "Ah! Okay, okay! Moving!"

Zahira growled to herself, but managed to suppress her rising annoyance with a few calming breaths, instead focusing on how to fix the problem instead of complaining about it. Working her sensor station, she tapped into comms as best she could, and as she probed various encryptions, one of their listed solutions hit the jackpot.

"ISD Corona," Zahira called out. "Admiral Daala's flagship, and these look to be rebel vessels."

"Perfect, just…perfect," Greez mumbled, dipping underneath the final Imperial vessel. "Let's get us the hell out of here."

Seconds later, they were back in hyperspace, leaving Zahira to wonder how the Empire knew they would be there…no matter how oblivious they pretended to be.

"We've got to warn the Admiral!" Katara exclaimed. "She could be—"

"Oh, I'm sure she already knows, kid," Greez eased. "We've had more and more routes compromised over the last half year…and it doesn't look like our beloved Fulcrum will be finding us any new ones any time soon."

"Still, we should regroup with her. Three jumps to shake our tail," Zahira suggested.

"Five more like. Settle in," Greez insisted. "We're going home."

Kom'rk-class Starfighter – 1 BBY

"You don't really think she's going to shoot at us, do you kid?"

Bo Katan wished she had an answer to that question, but the fact that Nara was at the yoke and not herself told her all she needed to know about her gut feeling. Nara was the better pilot by a fair margin, and would also be able to find an avenue in which no one had to die…should Ursa Wren decide to fire on a collection of enemies of the Empire. She was fairly certain that Ursa was no friend of them…but that didn't mean she wouldn't do whatever it took to defend her family.

And the fashion in which the two had parted…it was hardly clean. Rondir hadn't seen that…and if he had, he probably wouldn't even be asking such a question.

"I still don't understand why we're even here," Arrum grumbled from the back of the cockpit. "Ursa Wren is a traitor, like Saxon, and should be dealt with as such."

Bo Katan managed to stay her own tongue before she protested a point that had more merit than she gave it credit. She wasn't a traitor…not yet anyway. Today would be the judge of that, as it seemed.

"Our numbers are too thin to be choosy," Bo Katan reasoned, turning in her chair. "And she's not a traitor until I say so, understand?"

"Don't let your soft heart cloud the necessity for justice, Kryze," Arrum stabbed his finger in her direction. "Like so many others, she betrayed us and left you to scurry around while the Empire hunted us like sand rats."

"She did what she had to in order to protect her family, Arrum," Rondir argued, an edge working into his tone. "If your niece had been the one at risk, I think you would've done the same."

"I trained Elise to take care of herself, Rondir, unlike your own grandson," Arrum accused. "Mandalore has no time for the weak and fainthearted, not while Saxon continues to plunder our riches and lick the boots of his precious Emperor!"

"We're here to work towards unseating Saxon," Bo Katan straightened herself, letting her own demeanor instill a projection of authority. "Like it or not, we can't do that without Ursa's help, along with the rest of Clan Wren."

"Clan Wren has spent more time practicing their artwork than their martial prowess. I'd be surprised if they had even a shred of spirit left within their empty hearts," Arrum pressed further, and then let his cold gaze meet Bo Katan's. "Not unlike your late sister."

"That's enough, Arrum," Rondir stomped his foot lightly.

"No, no, let him speak," Bo Katan raised a finger, her eyes never leaving his. "Now is as good a time as any to relieve himself of any precursor doubts."

Arrum held his stare, and Bo Katan could feel him trying to pry under her flesh and peel away at her resolve…but he found nothing to pull from, no niche to work his way into. He had tried for years, and Bo Katan had welcomed the challenge to her own self-confidence.

And kept potentially her most dangerous enemy close to her.

"When this goes wrong, Kryze, I'll be the one to tell you so…and don't ever think I'll forget it," he made clear.

"I wouldn't expect anything less," she said, before turning in the co-pilot seat, just as Nara began prompting for a landing.

"Not to break up the cat fight, but you might want to sit your asses down," she directed, pressing down on the yoke. "We're making our approach towards Krownest…and it looks nice and homey."

Bo Katan figured she was referring to the frigid, arctic landscape, which apparently was the natural preference of chiss biology. Sometimes she envied such an adaptation…but then again remembered the time they had visited a desert planet, and how miserable the poor woman had been. At least Alhara had been happy then.

"Are you sure about bringing your…" Rondir cleared his throat. "Foundling along?"

"Where I go, she goes," Bo Katan reiterated for about the hundredth time. "Besides, I have a feeling her presence might help."

"You're going to try to guilt Ursa into helping us?" Arrum almost scoffed from his seat.

"If that's the best your imagination can come up with, I'm sorry to hear that," she retorted, and left it at that. "Take us down, Nara."

Bo Katan herself had only been to Krownest a couple of times in her life, and unfortunately, never for a good reason. She imagined Ursa would inwardly desire to see her again…but also be wary of the danger she could bring down on her entire family. With what had happened on Dathomir, Bo Katan was now permanently an enemy of the Empire if she wasn't already, and according to reports, Ursa was fully loyal to Saxon.

But Bo Katan knew her better than anyone, and she was certain Ursa would never betray Mandalore fully. All she needed was a little bit of hope…

She felt her glove rest on the Darksaber hanging from her belt as they breached the atmosphere and began navigating the thick cloud cover, doing her best to stay hopeful, yet maintain a practical mindset. This would not be an easy visit, certainly, but it was necessary, no matter how much Arrum argued otherwise.

With a breath, she reached for the comm control…and prepared her rusty Mando'a. Her fluency was perfect, of course, as it was expected of her people to speak the language as well as Basic, but its use had been so limited with the scattering of her people. Luckily, she managed to wrap her tongue around the words effectively.

"Krownest, this is Bo Katan of House Kryze, requesting an audience with the Countess Ursa Wren of Clan Wren," she said in Mando'a.

The response was rather immediate. "Power down all weapons, starfighter. Prepare to be boarded."

Arrum growled, already scooping up his helmet. "Like hell. I'll give them a welcome," he began.

"Sit down," Bo Katan growled with a sideways glance, and then returned to the comm, just as she spotted a half dozen Mandalorian warriors emerge from the clouds, jetpacks activated. "Clan Wren, we do not seek hostilities, but if you force our hand, we will retaliate. You all know who I am, know my voice…and know exactly what I am capable of. Do not test me, or you shall have war with the entire combined forces of Clan Vizsla, Clan Ordo and Clan Kryze."

At first, nothing seemed to change…but moments later, the six Mandalorians abruptly came to a stop with their approach.

"I will say again," Bo Katan pressed on. "I ask for an audience with the Countess Ursa Wren of Clan Wren—"

"Request granted…Lady Bo Katan," a begrudging, male voice replied through the comm. "But understand we will be confirming identity upon your landing. If you are not who you say you are, you will be dealt with accordingly."

The comm died, and Nara snickered. "He just wiped the piss from between his legs."

Rondir frowned. "He didn't sound very frightful to me."

"Oh, trust me," Nara argued. "Men always try to sound tough when their egos are most vulnerable."

"I do not do that," Arrum spat…only to have Nara regard him with a skeptical smile.

"See?" she shrugged.

"Alright, that's enough," Bo Katan interrupted. "Set us down where you can, and when they come aboard, do not be the ones to shoot first."

Valkyrie – 1 BBY

"I'm telling you, it was the Corona," Greez reiterated, standing tall, so to speak, up against the imposing figure that was Admiral Reyna Vorchenko. "Daala is on our tail again, and I don't feel safe bringing more kids through the Veil if it stays this dicey."

Vorchenko didn't seem halfway phased or put off-balance, and Katara once again gained nothing from trying to sense her emotions. Of all the people she knew, besides Rava, she had never been able to fully understand how the woman's mind worked…but it seemed no one really did, unless her mother and father simply kept the truth from her. That couldn't be true, though…her mother had never lied to her, and she promised as much many times. Maybe some things just weren't meant to be known or understood, kind of like the Force itself. Katara never understood why it was so strong with her, or why it made her see things, or why everything around her seemed to shake when she got a little too upset. Sometimes it scared her.

But she wasn't a little girl anymore…not like how she had been. Now the top of her head was up to her mother's chin, and her muscles had finally started to take root with all the workouts and conditioning she was constantly doing. Sometimes she felt like she could take on anyone…and confronting fear was the destiny of a Jedi.

A destiny she planned to fulfill.

"Not to worry. I have already informed Cal Kestis that he should not leave Artakha unless he never intends to return, as I already fear its secrecy is in jeopardy," the Admiral admitted, pacing over to her data board in her personal office.

"You can't be serious. I would've sensed if they were in danger," Zahira argued, only to have her shoulder pulled slightly by her brother, and Katara's father.

"It's not something you can sense, Zahi," Xur Eon explained, gesturing towards the board. "It's in there, buried in the data…which is out of our skillset's reach."

"The Corona, and subsequently Admiral Daala, is merely a feint to cover up a much larger threat," Vorchenko acknowledged Xur's point. "Over the time since we revealed ourselves on Botajef, we have lost over twenty percent of our vessels to various smaller skirmishes as we were forced to divide up our forces. Not just anyone can systematically tear through at the rate they have, and even with the Rebellion's support, I fear we may suffer one too many losses to still call ourselves competitive."

Her father furrowed his brow, just as Zahira calmly clasped her hands in front of herself. She usually did that when she acknowledged she was out of her element, and began to just listen instead of allowing herself to get frustrated. Katara had tried to emulate that many times, and found that she tended to learn much more when she just listened to others speak, picking up on the patterns and various bits that could make understanding something complicated far easier. Unfortunately, Katara found naval combat jargon and strategy to be beyond her ability. She much preferred being more creative, sometimes drawing or cooking.

"Who could do this?" Xur queried. "We'd better figure it out, I'd think."

"Oh, I already know who it is," Vorchenko answered, and turned back to her board, stroking her chin as she thought. "He's been after me for many months now. The trick is finding a way to draw him out."

"Draw him out?" Katara questioned. "But he's chasing us."

"Yes, and it is quite adorable," she remarked, still studying the board. "Grand Admiral Thrawn is nothing if not persistent, but he is the true threat, and I have already put into motion a plan to neutralize him."

"Neutralize? Why don't we just kill him?" Xur argued, now taking his turn to have a hand on his shoulder, this time from Zahira.

Vorchenko shook her head. "I do not want him dead, not after what I have learned about him. His skills and knowledge are too valuable to dispose of…and I believe…with the right persuasion…"

Katara blinked, remembering the distant, fading memories of the chiss woman who had abducted her when she was very young. Despite all that terror of being separated from her loving mother, Nerah's kind heart had been enough to keep her from losing complete control. She had never forgotten that kindness, and had considered that maybe not all Imperials were as horrible as the trope insisted. Last she'd heard, Nerah was working for this Thrawn person, a fellow chiss apparently, and if she had a kind heart…then maybe he did too.

But it wasn't likely, she imagined, and it wasn't a risk Katara could take.

"Is there anything you would like us to do then?" Greez shrugged. "I feel like we're just spinning our wheels here, and if Cal and Merrin are out of the picture for the time being, we're shorthanded. Odds aren't good without those two."

"They are an investment we must not squander," Vorchenko argued. "The more time we buy for them, the more powerful those Jedi will be, and possibly more capable of defending themselves. I understand your feelings for them, Captain, but I believe they are in agreement with me on this issue."

"Ah," Greez grimaced. "Stubborn kid. You're probably right, Admiral."

She inclined her head. "General, I'd like to speak with you about your current engagements. Everyone else, you're dismissed for now."

Katara shrank slightly with disappointment, but nonetheless obeyed, following her aunt out of the office and down the hallways. Sent away again to do…something…something useless most likely.

A soft hand was on her back. "Things like this take time, Katara. Besides…you should be in no rush to grow up. No need to squander your youth so quickly," Zahira eased.

Katara sniffed. "It's not that…I just…I'm worried. I feel like there's something inside me pressing me onwards, but I don't know what it is, or how to control it."

Zahira smiled. "It's completely natural to feel lost, especially at your age. You're changing so much that it's hard to make sense of everything, but if you spend more time dedicated to focusing and strengthening your mental fortitude, you'll find that nothing is as scary as it seems."

Katara sighed. "Grandmother says I shouldn't restrain myself so often…that if I let myself be more free, I can learn to control my power with more confidence and ease."

Zahira frowned slightly, and Katara sensed that deep distain that she always detected when speaking about her grandmother. "With that, you run the risk of losing control and hurting someone. It might be the fastest route, but it's dangerous…and can lead you down a path you may not be able to turn away from."

Again, more warnings against letting herself go…but there was so much more she could do. She could already lift a starfighter with great effort, so why did she have to content herself with mundane practices and rituals? Surely she was ready for the more advanced techniques by now.

"Just be patient, Katara," Zahira insisted. "I know it can be difficult, and sometimes even frustrating…but trust me. It'll be worth it in the end."

"But what if the Empire wins?" Katara argued. "What if it's too late by the time I'm ready?"

"They won't, Katara, I promise," Zahira said.

Katara scoffed, beginning to march off. "You don't know that."

"Katara…"

She ignored her. They always said the same thing, promising her everything would be alright when she knew they were lying to her, thinking she was too stupid to notice. Her aunt did it, her father did it…everyone did it.

Everyone except her mother…but she wasn't here right now.

Right now, all she had was herself.

Krownest – 1 BBY

Alhara hadn't been able to figure out why her one-armed push-ups were becoming more difficult lately, and at first she figured she was just a bit more tired than she thought. That seemed rather ridiculous, since she never really had issues with her conditioning and stamina. Bo Katan had made sharpening those paramount in her training, and the best part about it was that her mentor also had to partake in most, if not all of them as well. Admittedly, it was a little embarrassing watching her do double, if not triple the amount of reps she could do, but it was something to work against. Alhara enjoyed healthy competition…even if, for now, it wasn't that competitive.

Still, the last push-up left her heaving and rolling over onto her back, catching her breath as she let her hands cover her eyes. What was wrong with her? Why had this become so difficult?

Footsteps.

Alhara rolled over as someone lunged at her position, and then kicked up, her boot crashing into a beskar gauntlet…before staring directly at a drawn vibroblade.

"Dammit," she cursed. "Little slow today."

"Not bad," Bo Katan praised nonetheless, letting the blade slip back into her gauntlet and straightening herself. "Your feint kick just needs to be faster."

Alhara nodded. "I know, I know…just…everything feels heavy today."

Her mentor frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I wish I—" she stopped herself as her voice abruptly went high pitched, prompting her to clear her throat. "I don't know."

"Hm," Bo Katan mused. "Whatever it is, we'll figure it out later. It's time to go."

Alhara shook it off, scooping up her proper Mandalorian-shaped helmet. Since she had turned nine, she now was eligible to call herself a recruit, which began the four-year process of properly preparing herself for the verd'goten when she reached thirteen. That meant she got to wear duraplast at least, or ultralight durasteel, whichever worked for her. She figured it was temporary because she was still growing, and would be a waste of resources to make something more permanent for her at this stage.

Besides, she didn't want the beskar now. She hadn't earned it yet, and Bo Katan had insisted she use it as a drive to press on.

Following her out, she noticed that the top of her head was almost up to her mentor's shoulder, and Bo Katan was rather tall compared to the other girls Alhara had seen. She remembered how tall her mother was, and taller still her father…and wondered if she was meant to surpass her one day.

Nara, she would definitely surpass. Who couldn't surpass her?

She was literally an inch shorter than Bo…but still.

"Hey girl," Nara smiled, just as they met at the back end of the ship, and then ruffled Alhara's half-braided head. Sometimes she never had time to fully braid all her hair, as the situation demanded she merely acted accordingly…and recently she noticed that she might like leaving it alone a bit more, either that or come up with something new.

Nara always seemed to treat her like a child, either that or she was just trying to be overly loveable. Alhara couldn't tell.

"Hey," Alhara replied, same as always to that typical greeting as she tried to readjust her hair.

"You're all stinky," Nara quipped.

Alhara scoffed. "Done putting on your makeup?"

"Not yet. Figured I'd spend an extra thirty minutes just for you," Nara winked.

Alhara winced internally. Nara was getting better and reacting to her pokes and jabs. Now it was almost like a game instead of a daily dose of pleasure Alhara gained from her reactions.

"Take an extra thirty. We wouldn't notice," Alhara winked back.

Nara mock-gasped. "Hey, that was mean!"

"Haar'chak can we go?!" Arrum almost bellowed, closing his fists. Alhara never cared much for him…always being excessively rude towards Bo Katan, but she'd never been angry with him for anything he said. Sometimes Alhara wished her mentor would shout back at him to shut him up, but maybe she did it for a reason.

Grown-up stuff.

"Defrost that heart of yours, Vizsla," Rondir pointed, and then began to alter his voice and pretend to shiver. "You're getting chilly."

Alhara smiled at that. She liked Rondir, even if he was a little overly-nice at times. She'd never been worried about the way adults treated her, so long as they gave her respect.

"Maybe it's the planet," Nara pointed out. "What? Can't take the snow, buddy?"

"I can handle anything," Arrum declared with steadfast confidence.

Nara smirked. "Remember what I said about men and bruised egos?"

Alhara frowned as the others chuckled, even Bo Katan a little. "What?"

"For once I'm in agreement with the aruetii," Arrum looked towards Alhara, fixing her with a halfway dismissive gaze. "You've really improved her perception, Kryze."

"Thanks, back to work," Bo Katan dismissed. "Remember what I said. If you shoot first, I'm going to let them gun you down," she reiterated, leaving Alhara even more confused. "Stay close to me."

Alhara huffed. "I know the drill."

She gave her a confident thin smile of approval, before turning to Nara. "You're staying out of sight."

The chiss snorted, scowling slightly as her eyes glowed a bit more intensely. "What? Why?"

"Because we need a backup plan if things don't go well, and you're the best at working alone. I have a feeling we might need you when it matters most regardless," Bo Katan said, and Alhara could kind of see where she was coming from…but that also meant she didn't trust this Ursa lady that Bo had kept talking about. She thought they were friends for a long time before she was even born…so why was she so on edge?

Grown-up stuff.

Nara sighed. "Alright…but you let me know as soon as things go bad. If I don't hear from you when shooting starts, I'm coming in."

"That's the idea," Bo Katan squeezed her shoulder lightly, before pulling away. "Everyone else, let's move."

Alhara kept close to Bo Katan as they descended the loading ramp, pulling over her helmet just as they did their own, and soon they were strolling through a wintery path. She felt herself shiver slightly, bracing herself against the brisk cold that the zabrak half of her revolted against, but contented herself with its beauty. To their right was a completely frozen lake that stretched out towards a snow-capped mountain, the clouds barely brushing across its summit.

"I know you said you wanted us to stay our blasters, kid," Rondir noted through his helmet. "But the last time I spoke to Ursa, she made it quite clear that she never wanted to see you again."

It took a moment to realize Rondir wasn't talking to Alhara, and to be reminded of the oddness of his 'kid' pet name for his mentor. Weird.

"If they shoot first, it's weapons free," Bo Katan reminded him. "Then we just have to improvise."

Apparently, they wouldn't have much time, as jetpacks sounded off in the sky, and armored Mandalorians began to surround them. Alhara counted at least six, not quite a fair fight for them, but the seventh that came in…

"Imperial!" Arrum growled, drawing his pistols, only to have more weapons drawn from the surrounding enemies. The seventh was in the full-white armor that Alhara remembered from the super commandos on Dathomir, and held the butt of his rifle against his shoulder.

"Stand down, dammit!" Bo Katan waved her arm in front of Arrum, probably just in time before he started shooting.

"You've got five seconds Kryze, before I blow his bloody brains out," Arrum cursed, holding his blasters steady.

Bo Katan growled to herself, and in a swift movement, she removed her helmet, letting her autumn-colored hair glow against the white backdrop. "You wanted your confirmation, there you have it," she said, letting her helmet rest in her off-body grip. "I have come to speak with the Countess Ursa Wren."

The super commando let his barrel lower slightly, but not completely. Alhara could see a slight tremble of realization in his stance, something Bo Katan had taught her to watch for, but he attempted to hide it quickly. "I am her son, Tristan Wren. I will lead you to our ancestral home, Lady Bo Katan."

Valkyrie – 1 BBY

Katara spent a long time in her personal quarters, pacing, reading. Luckily, no one had come to bother her in that time, giving her a chance to be alone for a while. Sometimes that was best for her to recharge…and shake off whatever issue had rubbed her the wrong way earlier.

An issue that seemed to perpetuate itself.

Once she had spent too long in her own head, letting the previous moments where she had been sidelined and told to be patient broil within her, she finally decided she was going to do something about it. Right now, she really wanted someone to help her get it all off her chest, but everyone on this ship would tell her the same damn thing. Her father would offer her virtually nothing useful, just blabber on about how everything is going to be alright, and that she should just keep working at it. Empty, thoughtless words that told her he was too busy to worry about whatever was bothering her.

Mother had been gone for almost two weeks now, and of course, when she needed her most, she wasn't here. What could she possibly be doing? What could be more important than spending time with her own daughter?

That was the next question that stirred within her mind, and eventually, she decided to act on it.

No one asked her why she was walking in the direction of her mother's quarters, since that was basically commonplace enough for no one to question it. She got waves and smiles from various crew members, some not offering her anything, which was fine. Sometimes it irked her to wonder why they didn't look at her, but that was a rather childish standpoint, something she'd tried to grow out of.

She was thirteen now, after all, finally a teenager…and no longer a child.

To her luck, no one was around when she reached the door, and with a look both ways down the hall, she twisted her hand before the mechanical lock and forced it open.

Her mother's quarters were clean, fancy, and full of various books and trinkets on display. She always enjoyed bringing something back from the places she visited, and had spent many hours telling her stories about each one…most of them anyway. Some she had refused to tell her about, or told her something so broad that it didn't seem very truthful.

But her mother never lied to her, and she knew that for a fact. Some stories just weren't that interesting.

Katara looked around the dark room, knowing better than to turn on the lights and possibly alert someone she was in here. Various holos illuminated themselves as they detected her motion, showing captures of family atop a drawer set. Coming around the desk, Katara slid into the chair, and switched on her personal computer. Another holo illuminated beside the screen, this one of herself and Alhara when they were much younger. It made her tremble slightly as she looked at her little sister once again…now plagued with worry as to what she was doing at this very moment. Their family bond wasn't that strong, unfortunately, since Alhara's force sensitivity wasn't strong enough to maintain over long distances…but she occasionally experienced raw emotional feedback that seemed to come from her, making Katara wonder if Alhara sometimes felt something from her.

Probably not. Besides, that wasn't important right now.

She activated the computer and tried a couple passwords that might work, but none of them purchased, prompting her to search through the drawers beside her for some kind of clue. Her mother was too smart for that, certainly, but it was worth a look.

When she opened the final drawer, she froze.

Inside was a black lightsaber hilt.

"What?" she whispered to herself, leaning over to pick it out. It was strange looking, with the same kind of half circle track her mother had designed with her own blade.

Was this her old lightsaber?

Stepping out of the chair, she carried the hilt to a more open area of her quarters, and made sure to keep the emitters pointed away from her. It felt…cheap…so to speak, as if it had been designed with terrible materials, and almost as if she could crush it with her bare hands. Her personal blade was made from ultralight durasteel, something she could never hope to crush in her wildest dreams. Hers was purple…her favorite color…and she wondered what color this one would be.

She snapped it on, and the room went red.

…aster, don't leave us!

Katara seized, feeling her mind ravaged by a horrific, blood-curdling scream as she froze in place, events and images flashing through her mind. Someone screamed in pain…her mother's voice, before silence.

NO!

She watched the force reverberate through a room, wiping out many lives in an instant…all except for one, before flashing to an unending chase, feelings of insatiable hunger for vengeance. So many lives…so much pain…so much suffering.

You'll never escape here alive!

Sabers clashed on a dead world, the Force torn and devoid from all that remained there, she watched a continuous background of more dead, more lives lost, more terror, more screaming. A black-cowled woman cut down Jedi in a blaze of fire, her hunt unrelenting, her hunger never ever satisfied. She taunted, and tortured, and left nothing but despair in her wake…a monster of a proportion Katara couldn't even quantify.

The woman turned to her. She tried to scramble away, but was only torn from the ground, yanked towards the woman until she could no longer look away.

"Don't be so scared, darling…" the monster sneered as Katara began to cry out in terror. "You and I are more alike than you could ever imagine."

"GO AWAY!" Katara screamed. "GET AWAY FROM ME!"

"Now, now," she pointed a finger, and then brushed her gloved fingers against her skin. "Is that any way to speak to your mother?"

Katara froze.

The hands reached up, and in a swift hiss and lock, the helmet was gone.

Her mother stared back at her…but it wasn't her mother. This…she…was something else entirely.

"Ah," the woman smiled sickly. "Now you see it."

Lightning blazed through Katara, feeling as if she was being burned alive and frozen to death…all in the same frame. She screamed…oh did she scream.

And then, as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone…and she was in a strong, tight embrace.

"You're alright, you're alright!" her father held her tight, not letting her squirm away as the experience passed. "It's me! It's your father. I'm here…I'm here, Katara."

Finally, she felt herself relax, and then sobbed endlessly in his grip, and he only held her closer. "Mama…" she whimpered.

Xur pulled away slightly, letting her look into his eyes before he kissed her forehead, and pulled away. "You're okay, hun. I'm here. Just…deep breaths."

There were no breaths to take. She'd seen it all…the whole truth.

Her mother was a liar.

"She's…" she trembled. "She's a monster."

"Who is?" Xur asked, and Katara only felt primal, infernal anger.

"You know," she growled. "You know."

In his eyes, she saw that truth laid bare.

Her mother had been an inquisitor.